#have my little paper doll equivalent of these two

[rosesncarnations]

A prelude if you will for at least one of my Eris week posts

[valgeristik]

once again i have made the digital equivalent of those dress up paper dolls i used to play with as a kid. anyway, I wanted to work on what clothes Chicory would have, like, out on the road. Speaking mechanically, (and by that i mean their character sheet) he would have his regular clothes+armor and two Performance Costumes. So i decided to just sit down n design those. each thing is on its own layer etc...so its kind of like a fun little thing but also a great reference sheet situation Needless to say, my brain has been working so hard on the logistics of it all (and also on the goddamn color scheme of the jester-inspired outfit. yall would not believe the trials n tribulations i went thru to get there....................)

[dreamyzhou]

Two Pawn War

Pairing: enemy!chanhee and fem!reader

Genre: worn out students!enemies to friends (?) AU

Words: 4,3k

Warnings: both you and Chanhee are high school students and are enemies there, verbal abuse from mother, substances, talks about mental health, mention of clowns, terminologies of chess, pre-calculus (you will still understand even if you don’t understand any of them deeply)

Inspired by: Law and Order SVU (Season 10 Episode 12) and my own experiences

Premise: You were high school students, yearning for a mother’s love. You’d do anything for it, even if it meant antagonising a boy for a conditional one. As you grew older, you both realised none of the fights were worthy… might as well be with one another.

Dedicated to three people. First, a fellow Chanhee-biased, Sana @sanaxo-o. Second, the chaotic Izzy @from-izzy who still bombarded my discord and this account despite me being inactive. Finally, Mona @quaissants, my closest friend out of the server. This took me almost 4 months to write, because I was heavily depressed, but you brought me back up.

Tagging: @deoboyznet

2nd of 31st Alternate Universe by Ellie unlocked by Chanhee.

You were a puppet. A doll orchestrated to compliment your mother’s image. You had your own life, but living it didn’t matter. You didn’t win anything if you reached your own dream, since you spent about seventeen years not knowing what they were. All you wanted was your mother’s love and there was hope to get it. As long as you did whatever she asked, her love will be earned.

She ignored you every morning until you came back with a 100 on a test paper or anything equivalent to that. In return you get acknowledgements… of your existence. While your friends thought knowing one’s existence is the least anyone can do when having a parent-child relationship, for you it was a reward.

Though, something changed one time. You remembered when it was the start of Year 1 of Junior High. A woman and her son appeared to apply for the school. Your mother happened to be there to check for that year’s syllabus and the extracurricular lists, a habit that she happened to be obsessed with. When your mother and this one woman saw each other, you swore you never saw two people turn so sour as they saw each other. She approached that woman with you following her, clueless

“What is this, Choi? Stalking my daughter now, is that it?” Her mouth foamed from anger’s toxicity.

“Oh please…” That woman laughed wickedly at your Mum, probably the only person you had seen to ever do that. You were a little impressed for a second.

“Do you think you and your daughter are worth stalking? This school is the best school in the country. I’m pretty sure you admitted her here for the name, not to take advantage of the intelligence the school can put in her head.”

“You need to watch your mouth. One of these days, someone is going to attack you for it.”

“Ma’am, is there a problem here?” There was a man with a black shirt with trousers with the most pockets you’ve seen, and a belt with a security stick.

“No… These two might be attacking me, but all they end up doing is tickling me. It’s hilarious. Let’s go, Chanhee.” As the woman and the son left accompanied by the security officer, your mother positioned herself to be in front of you and locked her eyes on yours.

“Listen to me. I don’t give a damn what you have to do, you come home better than the kid, you hear me? If he got 100 in a Math test tomorrow, you come home 100 average in the whole Math course—”

“But why? Who are they?” Your mom leaned to your face with hers that expressed great disgust, as if speechless that a kid cut her words off.

“Should I put your mattress on the porch, Y/N?” The anxiety rose, starting to take your breaths away, choking your throat.

“No, Ma’am.” Your voice broke a little. She corrected her posture in front of you.

“Good. Don’t let me down.” She left you to go to the car.

You didn’t go with her, since you knew she’d be surprised you had the nerve to go to the car with her, when you were supposed to walk to your summer tutoring class. It was not because she didn’t love you enough to drive you there willingly… right?

You joined the sword battle reluctantly, thinking that if you brought a spoon, the battle shouldn’t have to exist within you and him.

But no.

You learned as soon as you took out your hand for him to shake and from the way he just stared at it and didn’t introduce his name, he was bringing his own Excalibur.

It felt like he, too, was with your Mum in this one.

You learned quickly that his name was Choi Chanhee. Your mother applied you to more than the maximum number of extracurricular activities a student can apply for in the school. You were never allowed by your Mum to go back home with a wrinkle on your uniform to show your diligence as a person. No button is off from the collar or loosened messy tie to show potential rebellion phase in puberty age.

You had to show up to school, proving you were the best. All that, when you already were. You just weren’t the best in your mother’s eyes.

Snap!

You’d been a little bit too focused on how you’ve gotten in this chair lately. One minute, you were thirteen, seeing Chanhee for the first time. Next, you were in the present time, seventeen years old in the final year of high school. The kids were exiting the class, talking about the meal they were going to have for brunch. While you just stood there, taking a photographic memory of what was written on the chalkboard.

“Find the centre and vertices of the hyperbola… square root of eleven-X…” You were whispering to yourself, but truth be told, this was what you called anxiety rush.

You were speeding with your terrible handwriting, taking just one question out of the five presented by Ms. Hong, making sure you picked the most difficult one so that you were sure you could solve the other four if you could solve the one you picked.

Done!

You left your seat and went to the back of the classroom, once all the students emptied out the room. There were lockers for students who studied in the room. You opened Locker 18, taking this used vitamin bottle. You stopped to look at the five pills inside: three orange capsules, and two white tablets.

You were running out.

You shut your eyes feeling the guilt of ruining your body as your throat felt the bitter bits. Effects weren’t instant but you could feel the hypersomnia creating bigger sacks of blue eyebags caused by the white Provigil and the plastic-tasted Adderall.

Clang!

Shutting off the locker drawer, you walked to the cafeteria with hands trembling; a usual habit your body owns when you feel like you have sinned. You had to put up the “just-like-any-other-day” face, but deep down? It was… something that shouldn’t have been normal.

Eating with Jacob, Kevin, and Eric was the only thing that made you feel human. There were 3 kids acknowledging that you deserve them and maybe to share stories and food. They were there when you didn’t want the other kids to understand your talks in English.

“So, finals in 2 weeks… wanna study at mine when school’s over?” Kevin suggested.

“Sure!” Jacob smiled gently.

“I’m down. I don’t have a basketball club today.” 

“Sorry. Chess.” The three fell silent whenever the word ‘chess’ came out of your mouth.

They knew what it meant. Duels with Chanhee that always ended up with upset nights and sometimes verbal fights with Chanhee. Mr. Ryu might be impressed how genius both of you are in playing chess, but oh the grey hair that grew out of the teacher’s scalp when you both fought.

Chess came eventually. Mr. Ryu believed competition is the best way to better oneself, which you didn’t agree with entirely. He forgot the harm in self comparison when competition happens, which makes competition ineffective sometimes. His principle resulted in you being paired with Chanhee, since the competition results were too constant. You could have 4 terrific wins, but he would catch up with his own 4 just-as-terrific wins.

So there you were, in front of Chanhee, not even bothered to stare at each other. You placed the black wooden pieces on the chess board. In times like these, where you prepare yourself for extracurricular class, Mr. Ryu hated waiting. Before the class started, Mr. Ryu expected all the pieces to be on top of the board, ready to be played. This resulted in those who were paired together to help out their opposition across the board to put on the chess pieces.

Both of you were petty, though. Things like helping out would never happen.

“Alright, today I want you both to play, the winner will get a higher score by 5 points in their extracurricular grade if you play without using the ‘pawn-centre-square’ method as your first 5 moves, to earn another 2 points. Please start strategizing. The first person to tell me they're ready to play is to play against their opponent, even when the opponent isn’t ready with their own strategy. Then, all of us watch their match. We’ll discuss mistakes and blunders. Today’s focus is about having the upper hand when it comes to strategizing from the beginning. This is what makes a good chess player. Whether or not you can fool your opponent in the beginning to make them fall for your traps. Whether or not your vulnerable moves confuse them enough for them not to capture you when you are at those moves. The lesson lies in your mind games and strategizing skills.” Mr. Ryu explained the task.

“Ready!” You quickly said, not knowing Chanhee said the same thing.

“As usual. All right, gather around kids! Let’s watch the prodigies.” You hid a wince, the word no longer pleasant to hear but only brought heavy pressure on your shoulders.

Chanhee had the white pieces so he moved first. As soon as he placed the pawn in front of his king piece, so did you, but by 2 squares. Then he moved his pawn in front of his knight piece.

“Mistake.” A high-pitched voice exclaimed.

“Nope.” Mr. Ryu replied to the student, which was something you wished you could deny at the time, but you weren’t sure.

You moved your bishop piece to B4, where you can capture a pawn in front of the queen. He moved his knight to F3, which confused you.

“Uh… Mistake?” Someone hesitantly said, while you deep down thought it wasn’t. It was more of a move that could make or break a long-game takeover plan, which you had to figure out by now.

You moved your bishop from B4 to get rid of the pawn Chanhee had on D2, the one that was in front of his queen, making a check on his king.

“Check!” You said.

“Doesn’t mean anything if your strategy is too easy to figure out and your mind is too vulnerable to be read. Chanhee has the upper hand from the beginning.” Just from Mr. Ryu’s words…. you got a déjà vu.

Snap! You’d been a little bit too focused on how you’ve gotten in this chair lately— Clang! Shutting off the locker drawer, you walked to the cafeteria with hands trembling; a usual habit—

“Blunder…” You whispered as your eyes widened at your bishop’s position.

“What were you thinking, Dollie?” Mr. Ryu asked, gently.

You checked the class calendar. It was Wednesday. You had Chess. You had to be at your best when you go against Chanhee. You shouldn’t had taken those pills. What is happening?

“Continue, Chanhee…” Mr. Ryu said. It was obvious what Chanhee’s next move was.

His queen captured your bishop…. You didn’t know what to do. You had to go back to one of your pawns and let them do their frontline jobs. You moved the pawn in front of the queen also by 2 squares to the front.

“Extra 2 points coupon is no longer valid, because you used the ‘pawn-centre-square’ method on the 4th move.” Now all you were was a prodigy who just lost their intelligence and dignity because of 2 wooden chess pieces.

You could feel your brain tightened and loosened in the pace of your elevated heartbeat. Pounding. Soon enough, the bell rang, you looked behind you, but then the students were bewildered as they shot their stares onto you. The ringing lost its vibrations and turned into a flatlining machine sound. You could feel your neck getting hot and sweating, even when it was a chilly autumn day.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Mr. Ryu asked.

Gravity was pulling you down to the ground. You knew the floor wasn’t going to be a cushion, but you couldn’t fight where your body wanted to take you. So you closed your eyes as you felt heavy, landing on the wooden floor, not even fighting yourself.

“Y/N!” The last sound coming out of a student’s voice before the world distorted in your eyes and the shadows of unconsciousness dimmed the lights in your body, putting you to sleep.

Even in your dreams, everything was pitch black. You realised your body grew tired of this competition. You realised the girl who used all of her to beat one boy for the sake of proving her worth to her mother is gone. The body that gave up its night time sleep for the sake of one more Chemistry homeworks, the hand that wrote Trigonometry formulas faster than anybody, and the eyes that had determination to follow words in Literature books from left to right so rapidly, the ears that listen to Economy lecture finally grew tired of the words like ‘stocks’ and ‘values’.

You woke up in the first aid room, vision spinning as if you were the centre of the universe, motion blurring as you felt like your brain in the clouds, floating and light, but pounding along with the drum of your heartbeat.

Your mother was there, fighting with your school’s principal and the school’s nurse. The tension and the noise only added to the pain on your head. You grunted, catching the attention of the three fighting adults.

“Let's go.” Your mother gave an unreadable, cold tone.

You knee what your worst fear was, but you didn’t know what it felt like. For years, you avoided it by scoring 4.0 GPA for every year, being the top student, even going to an intelligence-measuring war with a boy. So now that it was happening, you lost the abilities to do all of those. You lost the one thing you needed in order to be your mother’s daughter: your mind.

“Mum—”

“Shut your mouth. Follow me home.” Your mother turned around and walked, not even looking back knowing she got you wrapped around her finger in the name of fear.

The principal and the nurse looked down on the floor, surrendering too. You got off the creaky bed, vision still spinning. Grabbing your heavy backpack, you felt your legs couldn’t even strengthen themselves for you to walk properly. You saw a digital clock that displayed the day of the week: FRI, 09:18 AM. Okay, what the hell? Despite the bewilderment, you ran after your mother with those weak legs and shifting centre of gravity.

“Mum, please wait—” You fell on the wooden floor of the locker hallway.

Just in time, the kids in school were exiting from every door to the hallway. It was break time and every student could see the commotion of you on the ground. Your mother spun to face you and approached.  She lifted her right shoe, bringing your jaw up. It was probably the most gentle, yet the most humiliating action she had ever done to you. Most students locked their curious gaze on you and froze in their place, gasping and murmuring.

“You’re not my kid.”

These four syllables rolled easily and clearly from her mouth. She wore this expression that somehow showed the whole school that if you ever claim her your mother… it would be humiliating to her.

You looked around, faces of pity were on you like creepy clowns haunting kids from afar, except this time in a large volume.

However… you caught him right there. Black hair, pale skin, small face, gentle soft features. It was the first time you saw him wearing a shocked and empathetic expression.

You hated it.

You were at the rock bottom, but you were being pulled away to Mariana Trench where you wouldn’t ever come back. You failed so much that your enemy had chosen to give you empathy. You failed so much that your mother was disowning you in a commotion with everyone’s eyes on the both of you as if she was setting a good example.

You were ruined… Who do you live for, now?

Who do you fight Chanhee for, now? Who do you get good grades for, now? All these questions had no answer, but one thing you knew certainly was… the person you fought everything for… never fought for you.

Maybe that was why this public disowning act felt like a tight chain busting from your chest. You were finally breathing… and free.

She turned around and walked away. You slowly got up and stood where you were. Letting the backpack slip away from your arms, you looked at her back once more.

“HARGH!” You roared, throwing the bag to her back.

She turned around in disbelief, eyes wide at yours, frozen in place.

“And you were never a mother! Let alone mine!” Your throat tightened as you shouted.

You shook your head slowly, tears flowing on your cheeks. It felt your ribs were imploding and tightening your heart.

“How could a mother make her child treat home like a shop for love and the child has to pay with good grades as currency? How could a mother tell her child to beat her competitor’s son by making sure the child goes to school solely for that purpose? As if the child is nothing but a soldier to deploy for war that she never caused!” Your throat hurt as you screamed, expressing to the world how much pain you went through.

A warm tear slipped on your cheek. You usually felt embarrassed to even tremble in front of everybody, but this time ‘care’ was no longer present. Your mother bit the insides of her cheeks, eyes widening in rage, fists clenching.

“Will you even love me if I’m not smart?” You choked, waterfall streaming from your eyes to your jaw.

“Y/N, don’t bring up love. I loved you enough to put up with you. You just don’t respect me enough to come back home and repay it. I hope you know it’s equal to unrequited mother-daughter love.” She walked away once more.

It was then you knew you weren’t welcomed home anymore. Yet, the feeling evoked after knowing so was like a liberty given to a pet on a leash. It was like… the world was really your oyster now and you knew there were going to be pearls.

You looked around once more, locking your eyes with Choi Chanhee. Why were there… tears on his cheeks?

“Hey… We can stay with you at Jacob’s house tonight…” Kevin held your shoulders as Eric and Jacob surrounded you, shielding you from the sharp pierces of pity gazes.

The night passed with your friends, trying hard to lift your mood up. It was only then they realised after your body was glued to the spare bed Jacob had for about 3 hours, that this was more than a mood downhill. This was a life downhill. They realised that as much as they were your friends since forever, they could never understand the pressure of impressing for the sake of receiving, supposedly, mandatory parental love.

That was how they came into Jacob’s bedroom with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s for each person. Eric gave your favourite pint of flavour, while sitting on the lower bunk bed across the bunk bed you occupied. Jacob and Kevin hiked up the top, scooping the cold dessert.

“Spill your thoughts, girlie.” Kevin said.

You sat up, throat bubbling with groans.

“You all saw what happened…”

“No, we don’t mean that one.” Jacob gently responded as he scooped his own spoonful of ice cream.

“Yeah… we meant the Chess class on Wednesday until this morning. How come you blacked-out for two days?” Eric’s eyes were a pair that thought there was something fun or dramatic to know about.

“I’ve been… using medications to stay awake and study.” The revelation shocked the three boys in front of you.

“...Do..." Kevin hesitated. "Do you need help?”

Opening the pint, you scooped up your favourite flavour. That was when you saw that happiness lost its definition. It was as if seeing black and white in a world full of rainbows. Tasting the neutrality of water in a world full of Ben and Jerry’s and cakes. You lived for a baseless baseline until it went flatline.

“...Yeah. I think I do.” Tears started streaming.

For four months, with the help of your Anglophone friends, you were progressing in tapering off. Staying under the Bae family’s roof, you somehow became the little sister that they adopted. Your mother never reported it as kidnapping whatsoever. Though it looked like her new journal paper that talked about the theory of time became a good expression of her anger towards you.

But during those four months, you quitted something else other than your overproductivity pills: Choi Chanhee. You left every club where Chanhee was in. Never again did you challenge Chanhee in every teacher’s question.

But it seemed like Chanhee was the one experiencing withdrawal because of it. He was the one with tears as the school ended. He was the one who couldn’t chew his food in the canteen.

Another rising sun for this old Earth, you were early in school, playing chess on your own. For once chess wasn’t something to dread, but something fun just like the purpose of a game should be. But soon, the door behind you creaked. You looked behind you and saw a surprised Chanhee.

This was weird. You had unleashed yourself from academic pressure that shouldn’t exist and you took liberty for yourself, but somehow it made your relationship with Chanhee strange, but you couldn’t point where.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” You felt curiosity tilting your head.

“What do you mean?” Chanhee walked to the chair in front of you and sat.

“Apparently, we don’t know each other at all. Despite making each other our mission to finish when we wake up and go to school… we don’t know anything about each other.” He was right.

Maybe that was the point where it was weird.

You nodded slowly, but also indicated for him to keep talking.

“... I’m like you, you know…” Chanhee tidied the pieces you finished playing with.

“I go home, telling my mother the bounty-hunting result— if you will. Then, I get my cash. Wasn’t like other kids who love seeing dead presidents on coloured paper. Just want the invisible warmth of a recognition coming from one woman.” Chanhee then put the pieces on the chess board, according to their places; his side was the white one.

“But… why? Education got me far enough to tell me that nobody should live to serve a person that deeply. I get it, you know… I’m a child. I need her love, her attention— The things that a juvenile inmate lacks from a mother, I need it. But… from a woman who expects me to be good first?” Chanhee looked up to your eyes.

“Why…” He disguised his cracked voice with a whisper.

“But just so you know… without you, I lost something too.” Chanhee cleared his throat after whispering those words.

“We don’t know each other, yet after freeing ourselves from Mommy… we end up freeing ourselves from each other…. when we don’t even know each other.” Chanhee placed one of his pawns forward that blocked his queen, two squares in front.

“When we don’t even know ourselves…” He placed yours that blocked your king, also two squares, now adjacent to his that he moved.

“.... because we were so lost…” His pawn knocked yours down, making it lie horizontal on the board.

Then, he took his queen and placed it beside his pawn that he used.

“....in impressing our little queen.”

The sight of the three pieces in the centre of the board resembled her life… and apparently his as well. A queen mother tall and enjoying the sight of the knocked down enemy with her pawn.

“We forget that life had other pieces and that we were in control. That we played the pieces and we were not the pieces itself. When you’re not the pawn, the game goes on because the player doesn’t die. We forget that though life is not a game— just like chess sometimes may not just be a game, it may be a career or a hobby to invest in— we can still be supportive of one another during checkmate.” Chanhee looked at you once more.

“We were so lost in the wrong war… that all we know of is the ugliness— the desperation of wanting to live on and in war like these… especially like our pawn…. you play with your life. We were so lost that I only know your violence… but once that war is done…. I don’t know who you are behind that galea.”

Chanhee leaned back to his seat then watched the birds during the spring sunrise.

“I lost my purpose in life because of that. And my Mum is getting busier. She gets even more jealous with your mother with that new theory of time paper. These days, I don’t come here to earn her love anymore. And it seems like you don’t want to be in this war. And you know what? I get it… It’s peaceful… No more war…” Chanhee turned his head to you.

“It’s not worth it… Not worth getting stressed out for… My Mum’s love I mean…” Chanhee lent out his hand for a handshake.

“So again…. Now that the war's over... Toss that galea away like a graduation cap. Let's get to know each other... Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Somehow, that was the most peaceful speech you ever heard. It felt like forgiveness by the gods and now your life would be a bit easier. You no longer had to wonder why won’t we work out, even as friends?

You smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Chanhee.”

[burialboy]

bit of a weird question but do you think you could, if willing, make a little tutorial how to make that little paper doll?

Not a weird question at all, let's get into it:

First off, heres all the shit you will need to make your very own riley little doll

-Thin cardboard, I used a coke box -An exacto-knife or something equivalent, you could probably use scissors if your silhouette isn't too complex -Paper, probably -Paint, or markers, or whatever you can get your hands on -Something to pin the limbs together, I used thread for Riley due to character stuff but split pins/paper fasteners probably work better (He has a habit of loosening despite my best efforts)

I started off by pasting paper over the printed side of my cardboard and drawing out all the body parts I wanted, sort of like this:

This isn't the exact body plan I used for Riley but it gets the point across. Feel free to use this plan anyway. The X marks are (roughly) where you'd punch holes to later connect the pieces, however, if you want to use thread you'll have to make two holes in each spot, see: above close up of Riley's arm.

Alternatively, you could just start painting your pieces without pasting paper onto the cardboard but this is just how I did it.

After that, I cut out the body parts, painted them, threaded my red string with a needle, and tied them together. For his hair I just used paper cut into shape and pasted them onto the head piece, it adds a bit of depth.

If I attempted this little project again I would definitely use embroidery thread instead of the thin sewing thread I had on hand, so keep that in mind if you want to try this with string.

Also: If you do make a doll using my choppy ass method, make sure to show me, I'd love to see it

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

Ace Plicarta

Magic: Paper Magic

Rather than being able to generate and manipulate sheets of paper, this particular brand of paper magic (mostly) allows the caster to treat other objects/people as if they were sheets of paper or otherwise affected by paper. Spells that can transform a person cannot be used on the caster.

Death by One Thousand Cuts: One thousand paper cuts are dealt to an object/person. They are shallow and otherwise nonthreatening, but the amount of them overwhelms most defenses. Can be concentrated to one area more precisely, but takes a full five seconds rather than instantaneously. Paper Doll: Shapes the air around the caster into semi-transparent, two-dimensional humanoid figures. Can be issued one very simple and straight forward command: "Protect Me", "Fight My Opponent", etc. The base spell can summon four figures that can individually withstand ten Dark Cloaked Avidya Slashes and deal individual damage equivalent to one Dark Cloaked Avidya Slash. If used to summon more figures beyond the first four, the defensive abilities are incrementally reduced by half, to a minimum of one Slash. After eight total figures have been summoned, their offensive abilities are reduced to a basic non-magical fist-fight, strength equivalent to a little less than Yami at the start of the series. Origami: Summons an origami paper swan to be used as a mount. Paper Plane: Turns written messages into paper planes that magically fly to the recipient. If they are intercepted, they can't be opened by anyone other than the recipient. A stack of papers can be pre-enchanted in batches so that each individual one doesn't need to be enchanted when written upon. Copy: Can copy other spells onto scrolls to be cast at a later time. Copies can be made from other copies, but the spell gets weaker the further from the original casting it gets. Hide & Seek: Surrounding terrain takes shape into a child's play castle. As long as those inside believe that the structure is impenetrable, it will remain so. Bigger on the inside than outside, restores a portion of mana, and heals minor injuries. Despite the name, you aren't actually hiding—the structure is fully in view. Paper Trail: Can be used in two ways—"Place Paper Trail" leaves clear evidence of a path that was taken (alternatively, "Place False Trail" can be used to leave a false trail and leave the real one disguised to even the most discerning of eyes/spells); "Find Paper Trail" works to find the evidence of a path that was taken. Invisible Ink: Turns objects/persons invisible; easily exposed by the most basic of Light or Fire Magic spells. Paper Thin: Can make objects/persons as thin as a sheet of paper; effectively makes them two-dimensional. Can be very dangerous if the spell ends. Record Keeper: An extra-dimensional space that takes and holds information. As long as it's written on a sheet of paper, it can be put inside Record Keeper, which will file it either automatically based on the information written, or manually with spoken instructions when the spell is cast. Individual "filing cabinets" can be summoned for searching stored information. Contingency Plan: The caster meticulously writes out the details of a plan, and every path it can take as each step is triggered (whether accomplished or not). As a part of each step, different spells, tools, and information are revealed and utilized to move to the next step of the plan. Every alternative path must be accounted for, otherwise, steps will not progress until their specific conditions are met. Paper Stars: A form of amplification magic, the spell uses up all of the caster's existing mana, to copy and amplify someone's else's spell up to 200 times over. If used with an offensive spell, the spell now spreads in a "starburst" pattern across a large area. Using this spell in conjunction with any of Yami's spells has been classed as war crimes in the Clover and Heart Kingdoms. Contract: Creates a written document of a verbal agreement and accounts for any loopholes that would allow the contract to be breached and eliminates them. Signing it is a polite formality. If a Contract is broken, the party that broke it will be faced with Death By One Thousand Cuts: Paper Stars edition.

Synopsis:

Currently married to Sukehiro Yami; Currently Fake Engaged to Fuegoleon Vermilion; Emotionally Adoptive Mother of Every Black Bull

Daughter of a noble family; Has four siblings of similar age: James (+4 years, Family Heir; has not left home), Christopher (+2 years, Magic Knight: Coral Peacock; joined 3 years after me), Samantha (-2 years; Maxine's twin, Sister of the Church; left home 2 years after Christopher), Maxine (-2 years; Samantha's twin, works in the Royal Archives; left home 1 year after Samantha); Also has a younger half-sibling that was the result of an affair with one of the house staff: Andrew (-25 years, too young to manifest much in the way of magic).

Was no-contact with my family for 15-ish years; they largely thought I was dead; Christopher was the exception, as he found me when he joined the Magic Knights—we did once a year check-ins so that when my dad interrogated him, he didn't have the ability to say anything about my existence.

Joined the Magic Knights under Julius Novachrono in the Grey Deer at 15; partnered mostly with William Vangeance; Would later found the Black Bulls with Yami.

Despite being Co-Captain of the Black Bulls, I spend most of my time in the Capital working for Julius; I'm kind of a glorified secretary, working in tandem with Marx Francois, much to his displeasure; at least once a week I'm convincing Julius to shirk his duties and go find some hidden pocket of the country to discover ancient ruins or someone's cool magic.

I have low mana stores. Part of this is my generally poor health (caused by a not-so-great childhood), but it's also because of the amount of spells that I have running in the background. Existing Contracts & Contingency Plans constantly draw on my mana in small amounts to uphold them; if they're ever triggered, then the draw on my mana is more severe. Record Keeper is also a constant draw on my mana, but it's largely supported by the natural mana in the air. Paper Planes can be enchanted en-mass in advance, but there is a small draw on my mana when they reach their recipient, so that it can be opened. This causes a lot of issues in the middle of battles, obviously, so I'm not allowed in the field anymore without like 30 magic items of precaution (stored mana, health potions, etc.) and/or William within line of sight. He has saved me with World Tree far too many times to count. Yami has seen me on the verge of death no less than six times since we got married.

Important Notes:

There is a secret civil war brewing among the Clover elite that runs parallel to the canon plot. The only thing keeping the country together is my indeterminate, but upcoming nuptials with Fuego.

I am also quite proficient in the use of Runes, which allows me to use Magics that are otherwise inaccessible to me.

My brand of paper magic is seen as inferior and a disappointment. My family's brand of magic is actually largely meant to be employed for espionage; I was also late to develop my magic, so even though I have "espionage" type spells now, they didn't exist when I was 15. James: Can transform his body as if it were a sheet of paper, though not always two-dimensional like my Paper Thin spell. His abilities are near-identical to my father's magic. Christopher: Can summon sheets of paper and transform them to be used as weapons/armor. His imagination is literally his limit. Samantha: Can transform her body as if it were a sheet of paper, but smaller square footage than James. James can fold his whole body at the same time; Samantha can transform a single limb at most at one time. She likes turning her hands into shadow puppets for the children in her orphanage. Maxine: Can create sentient stick figures that she can imbue with different abilities; everything must be written very precisely, no room for nuance. She also has a version of my Copy spell, it's more picky about how you copy spells, but it doesn't lose any of its potency the more that it's copied. She has the closest to our mother's magic, which is a type of Art Magic.

Sam, Chris, and Max all left home because of the abuse they began to endure in my absence (I was my dad's favorite punching bag, literally and figuratively). They never knew how bad it was for me until it was turned on them. James remains at home out of obligation and to keep our father in check. As they are all forced back into my life because of our father's involvement in the civil war, there's a lot of tension and hurt feelings. But they all love to see me stand up to him because I am a soon-to-be Royal.

[savventeen]

I posted 1,220 times in 2022

That's 1,220 more posts than 2021!

154 posts created (13%)

1,066 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dokyeomblr

@woozi

@97-liners

@junranghae

@savventeen

I tagged 1,190 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#in my queue world - 728 posts

#savv speaks - 139 posts

#savv reads - 83 posts

#woozi - 68 posts

#seokminnie - 64 posts

#god - 52 posts

#moot chats - 52 posts

#fanart - 51 posts

#mingyu - 49 posts

#like - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i desperately want to go to the pumpkin patch with him and drink spiced apple cider and laugh at the antics of the goats in the petting zoo

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

2 ... With mingyuuuuuuu 🥺

break the curse, break my heart

pairing: cursebreaker!mingyu x cursebreaker!gn!reader rating: M (mostly for reader's potty mouth) wc: 5.1k prompt: ‘things you said through your teeth’ (from this list) summary: what's supposed to be a simple hex job turns into something much deadlier, and suddenly the two of you are fighting just to stay alive warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, near-death experiences, exorcisms (kinda), convulsing, blood, hospitals, but there's a happy ending friends no worries!!!, mingyu is self-sacrificing, self-harm (mingyu cuts himself so he can use blood for magic reasons), descriptions of a panic attack tags: modern magic au, curse-breaking as a career, they’re partners (in the business sense AND romantic sense), non-linear narrative, alternating pov, reader calls mingyu stupid approximately a billion times, but he absolutely deserves it so *shrugs*, seungcheol also makes a guest appearance as #1 hyung a/n: sorry this took approximately 84 years to complete (it was only supposed to be a drabble lmao) but i hope you enjoy it despite the wait!! also a quick note on the magic in this world: hexes are the equivalent of small pests and are more annoyance than anything whereas curses are Extremely Dangerous and often deadly

Hex hunting is not what you expected to be doing tonight.

Well, it was your job, of course, but usually you weren’t called in on a case so last minute, and especially not on one of your few days off.

But apparently whoever owns this house-turned-antique shop called in a favor or two at the guild, and everyone else was busy, so here you were — hauling yourself up a ladder and into a dusty attic at nearly midnight on Saturday night because there was pesky little hex on the loose that apparently couldn’t wait until morning to be taken care of.

Whatever. Jeonghan would owe you one, and you plan to save that favor for something big. Plus, it’s not like you’re doing this job alone.

Right on cue, Mingyu’s voice filters through your earbuds in a petulant whine. “Jagi-yahhhhhh.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he can't see it, a hint of fondness trickling through the exasperation in the form of a smile, and you continue your scan of the first room of the attic. The bright teal glow at the end of your wooden staff is your only source of light as you look for any signs of the wayward hex.

"Why did I have to be the one to search the basement,” Mingyu continues. “Why couldn't we have switched?"

You snort, peering around a stack of old moving boxes that tower over you and seem to be more duct tape than cardboard, miscellaneous protective runes scribbled all over them in sloppy permanent marker. "You lost rock-paper-scissors fair and square, babe, I don't know what else to tell you."

Besides the faint scorch marks you've found that match the ones throughout the rest of the house, you haven't had any luck in finding traces of the hex.

"But it's so creepy down here," he whines, pout audible through the phone call. He's right, of course — you suppress a shudder at the thought of having to face the numerous shelves lined with antique porcelain dolls stored down there, and thank the stars for letting you win that particular battle of rock-paper-scissors.

Even still, you can’t help but tease him just a little. “If you stop complaining and actually clear the basement, you can get out of there much sooner, you know.”

There’s a moment of silence over the line, and you take the opportunity to do one last sweep of the haphazard piles of boxes and broken artifacts — your staff’s glow unwavering — before heading to the door that opens into the attic’s second room.

“Wow,” Mingyu deadpans. “I think I hate you and everything that you stand for, actually.”

You bark out a startled laugh, loud and carefree in the way that only seems to happen with Mingyu, and you feel a smile bloom across your face. “Oh, wow,” you giggle. “Whatever did I do to deserve such sweet words from you?”

The teal light flickers slightly as you trace your staff in a familiar pattern in front of the door, checking for traps and finding none. Satisfied, you push it open with a creaking groan and step carefully past the threshold.

“You know exactly what you did,” Mingyu scolds indignantly as you step fully into what appears to be an empty room. “And you will get sweet words when you stop forcing me to go down into scary basements, y/n. I swear, some creepy possessed toy is going to be the death of me one day.”

“Sure,” you reply, distracted. Something about the room is…off.

There’s nothing immediately amiss — boxes and antiques just like the previous room propped up and shoved against the walls — but there’s something, a feeling, that you can’t quite seem to put your finger on, and it sets you on edge. “Should’ve picked a different career if you wanted to avoid scary basements, though.”

“Funny, we have the exact same job description and yet somehow you never have to go into the basements — only me.”

“Yeah,” you murmur quietly. “Funny.”

Something’s wrong.

Your bad feeling coalesces into a pressure that starts to build in your chest and the hair on your arms stands on end as goosebumps race across your skin.

“Gyu, something’s wrong.”

Belatedly, you realize you’d just interrupted him in the middle of a sentence, but you’re too busy tracing a quick series of protective sigils in the air around you to care too much.

His tone turns serious in an instant. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Not sure yet, bad feeling.” There are only a few strokes left for you to complete when the teal light at the end of your staff flickers and then goes out.

“Shit,” you whisper.

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63 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#4

jihoon is exhausted.

to be fair, he can’t really remember a time in recent memory that he wasn’t exhausted. and he knows it’s been the same for you, too — covering for other departments and working overtime and spreading yourself paper thin between friends and family obligations.

you both consider yourselves workaholics, and he knew what he was getting into when you decided to move in together. but he feels like he’s barely seen you these last couple of weeks and — he misses you. he misses you a lot.

you make sure to talk everyday (communication had been something you both struggled with in the beginning) but with your conflicting schedules he feels like it’s been eons since he’s gotten to just, sit with you.

he’s never been much for initiating physical affection, but he misses the way you let him wiggle his cold toes under your thigh when you’re watching anime together on the couch. he misses the way you seem to be magnetically drawn to him whenever one or both of you are trying to cook in the kitchen — a hand at his elbow, his waist, a cheeky hip check, a cheek pressed to his shoulder, a nose to his neck. he misses the way you press your fuzzy socks against his bare feet under the kitchen table when you’re both eating cereal at one in the morning. he misses the way every once in a while you’ll take his hand and pull him out of his thoughts and the apartment and into the passenger seat of your car, pulling up an artist you’ve been meaning to show him and letting the music play over comfortable silence as you take the scenic route to nowhere — one hand on the wheel and one hand holding his.

he misses you — and when he drags himself through the door well past midnight to find you fast asleep on the couch, laptop still open precariously on your stomach, something in his chest slides into place with an aching clarity.

silent beneath your light snores, he takes off his shoes and shuffles over to your sleeping form, delicately removing the glasses that were slipping off of your nose. the laptop is next, and then there’s just you in your oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers and your stupidly adorable fuzzy socks, and — jihoon is so, so in love.

he sighs, feeling his heart swell behind his ribs, and he decides he’s tired of missing you. it’s easy for him to crawl up and over until he’s laying on top of you with his head resting against your chest. the movement wakes you up, but only barely — enough for you to instinctually bring your arms up around his back and waist and mumble out, “hoonie? ‘ssat you?”

he hums, and you hum back before immediately drifting off again, a “love you” trapped on the tip of your tongue.

jihoon hears it, though, as he always has with you — as you always have with each other. and so he tempers his thoughts to the metronome of your breathing, and with the solid tempo of your heartbeat beneath his cheek, he finally lets himself succumb to his most precious melody.

102 notes - Posted September 13, 2022

#3

the D in DK stands for Dihydrogen monoxide

pairing: dk x reader rating: G wc: 0.5k tags: fluff summary: seokmin just wants to make sure you stay hydrated :( a/n: this is for you @dokyeomblr bc ur last reply gave me brainworms and also hydration is important >:(

staying hydrated is hard for you.

not for any particular reason, of course. it’s just always been something that you struggle with. and no matter how many times people tell you how important it is to drink lots of water, you can never seem to remember until it’s hours too late and your body is cursing you for forgetting to take care of one of its basic needs.

you’re not sure when it was exactly that seokmin first took notice of your little predicament (probably the first time you complained about a headache in front of him), but in the last few weeks, he’s made it his personal mission to make sure you stay hydrated.

it started off with him giving you a water bottle every time you saw each other on campus, always making sure you took at least a few sips before he had to run off to one of his approximately 2380238 obligations. and then it upgraded to a personalized tumbler full of ice water — the cup was your favorite color and covered in adorable angry cartoon cats. when you’d taken your first sip from the straw, he’d smiled so wide and proud that you’d felt your heart skip three beats. (and then you’d choked on your water and ended up hacking up your lungs as he worriedly patted your back, but you try not to remember that embarrassment).

which brings you to now, the week of midterms, and the realization that you’ve somehow acquired your very own hydration fairy.

you know he has his own busy schedule to attend to, but somehow, every few hours seokmin manages to find you and refill your tumbler with fresh, cold water. sometimes there are even little pieces of fruit in it — "for the vitamins, y/n!" —and more than once, you’ve been so focused on your work that you didn’t even realize that seokmin was there and putting a straw to your lips until half the cup was gone and you felt like you could focus again.

it’s one of those times now, late thursday afternoon in the campus library, and when you turn to look at where he’s crouched down next to where you’re sitting, your breath catches in your chest. he’s tired, you can tell – who isn’t right now? – but even then, he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. the golden light filtering in from one of the nearby windows gilds his silhouette, and the light of his soft smile brightens all of the dark, exhausted corners between your ribs.

finally, after weeks of keeping the question on the tip of your tongue, you hold up your nearly empty cup and ask, “why do you keep doing this?”

his smile brightens, a sun cresting over the horizon. “can’t let my beautiful sunflower wilt, can i?”

110 notes - Posted September 27, 2022

#2

you glow pink in the night

pairing: non-idol!the8 x fem!reader rating: G wc: 1.7k prompt: none, i just wanted to post something for minghao's bday <;3 summary: you and minghao are in a long-distance relationship, and minghao returns to his apartment after meeting you in person for the first time. he finds a surprise you left for him in his luggage warnings: none tags: fluff, just pure romantic fluff, long-distance relationship, Yearning™️, talks about kissing, they are so in love it's insane, love letters a/n: i wanted to break my angst streak and post something soft for minghao day. also, while it's not explicitly stated, i wrote this as the reader being a transwoman! if that bothers you in any way, please do not interact, thank you 💜 (this was originally a sapphic minjoon threadfic that i'd posted on twitter) a/n pt. 2: there are two theme songs for this fic — can't help falling in love cover by ingrid michaelson and pink in the night by mitski

The apartment is quiet as Minghao enters.

First, there are the soft thumps of his sneakers when he toes them off in the entryway. Then, the jingle of keys as he drops them onto the countertop, the acrylic frog keychain you had gifted him clinking softly against the tile, followed by the low whirring of wheels across the wood floor as he drags his suitcase behind him to the bedroom.

The springs squeak as he flops face down onto his mattress with an exhausted grunt, and then — silence.

He's never been a huge fan of silence. Don't get him wrong, he loves the quiet — soft moments in nature or normally bustling parks.

But silence, pure silence, the kind that feels like it compounds in on itself until it feels like you're completely ensnared in it — it always leaves a little too much room for unwanted thoughts to flutter to the forefront of his consciousness, swirling and uncatchable like dust motes in the afternoon sunlight.

This particular silence echoes a little louder than usual, though. The absence is felt a little more keenly — the yearning leaning a little bit more towards unbearable than not.

He really should have expected this — a crash, one that would inevitably come after such an incredible high.

And oh, what a high it had been.

He had saved and managed and planned and saved some more until finally, finally, the stars had aligned, and he'd been able to take time off of work and school and book a flight to New York — to where the other half of his heart lives.

To you, his long-distance girlfriend of two years and the woman he planned to marry someday.

For an entire week, you'd gotten to live in each other’s pockets, gotten to never be more than an arm’s length away instead of thousands of miles. Gotten to be face-to-face, heart-to-heart, (lips-to-lips), instead of screen-to-screen.

It had been heaven.

And like all things, the good and the bad and everything in between, it had come to an end.

So here he lay, a fourteen-hour flight and an hour-and-a-half bus ride later, in a space devoid of the warmth of soft skin and high-pitched giggles that he'd just had the privilege of getting to hold in the palms of his hands.

His surroundings had so swiftly gone from hallowed to hollow, and he releases a shaky sigh into his pillow.

He doesn't want to sink any further into that line of thinking, so he rolls over and pulls his phone out of the pocket of his oversized hoodie, turning on his playlist full of swooping orchestral music and blasting it at full volume.

He tosses it beside him and goes to get up and start unpacking before realizing he almost forgot to do something important.

Snatching his phone back up, he holds it up above him as he's lying on the bed and turns on the front-facing camera.

Before he can overthink how tired he looks, hair falling all over the place and bags under his puffy eyes, he snaps a quick photo and sends it to you. He follows it up with a few quick texts letting you know he made it home.

to: y/n ❤️✨🌻

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145 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hey :)) I love that promt list.Can I request things you said at wedding with coups

our ending is made for each other

"Choi Seungcheol,” you start lowly, a dangerous edge to your tone, “you had better not be proposing to me right now, at our best friend's wedding."

pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader rating: T wc: 1.1k warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk), lots of cussing (reader has a potty mouth oops) tags: fluff, just pure ooey-gooey fluff, humor, established relationship, talks about proposing/marriage, reader is an angry drunk and it's adorable summary: while at their best friend's wedding, seungcheol brings up the fact that he wants to marry reader someday. reader proceeds to have a little bit of a breakdown (the mostly good kind) a/n: hihi thank you so much for the request! i'm not 100% satisfied with this, but i still had a blast writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it :) title from svt's 'happy ending' || prompt from this list

You don't process what he says at first.

The wedding reception is well underway, cheesy romantic pop music blasting through the speakers as different groups of people let loose on the dance floor. You've also had a little more to drink than usual, already tipsy and steadily heading towards drunk, so when Seungcheol murmurs something from where he's next to you, it's no surprise that it takes your brain a while to catch up.

And then you think you must have heard him wrong. You turn in your seat and ask, "What?"

Ethereal is the first word that comes to mind when you look at him. His suit jacket hangs abandoned on the back of his chair, and he's rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms. His long hair is pulled into the half-up style that you love, and the colored lights dancing across his face remind you of the stained glass windows you grew up around — like he's something almost holy.

You're brought out of your momentary reverie when he turns to look at you, surprised, like he didn't realize he'd spoken aloud. "Huh?"

You elaborate, "What'd you just say?"

"Oh." He looks back over to where he'd been staring before, and you follow his gaze to where the bride and groom are seated, falling into each other as they laugh about something. When you turn back to Seungcheol, he's already looking at you, a soft smile on his face. "I said, 'That's gonna be us someday.'"

Quite suddenly, you don't think you're sober enough for this, for the way an earnest kind of yearning bleeds out of his big doe eyes — especially when he pulls your hand off of the table to hold it gently between his own and promises, "I'm gonna marry the hell out of you someday, y/n."

You think your heart might have migrated into your throat, and it feels like the rest of your organs have decided to play a spontaneous round of musical chairs.

Of course you've thought about what your future together looks like, of course you have, especially after years of being together. You've spent more time than you'd like to admit daydreaming about what it would be like to go from calling Seungcheol your boyfriend to calling him your fiance and then your husband. And more than once, the two of you have talked about and reaffirmed that you're both in it for the long haul, but…

"Choi Seungcheol," you start lowly, a dangerous edge to your tone, "you had better not be proposing to me right now at our best friend's wedding."

His eyes blow impossibly wide in shock, and you would laugh at his expression if your heart wasn't trying its damndest to suddenly become an Olympic gymnast.

"No, oh my god, no," he assures, squeezing your hand. "He would actually murder me if I did."

You raise your eyebrows, confirming, "No?"

He smiles, sheepish. "No." His expression smooths into something soft and contemplative, and he doesn't let go of your hand as he scoots closer to you, knees touching.

"No, I was just..." he trails off as he searches for words, and you get distracted by the way he starts playing with your hand. It's an endearing habit he has whenever you're together — using whatever part of you he can reach as a fidget toy while he's thinking.

Finally, he asks, "You know how sometimes something doesn't feel real until you say it out loud?"

"Yeah?"

He trails a callused fingertip down your fourth finger, stopping where it meets your palm. "I realized I wanted it to be real." You look into his eyes, and he's looking back at you with a hopeful kind of longing, one that steals the breath right out of your lungs. "That I want it — a future of forever, with you — to be real."

For a moment, you feel suspended in time. The lights continue to paint Seungcheol in a kaleidoscopic chiaroscuro, the music and laughter a faint mumble in the background. You know you love him — have loved him for a long time now — but in this moment, you feel so full of that love that you think your chest might explode like an overinflated balloon.

And since you can't actually explode, your inebriated body does the next best thing. Angry tears start burning in the corner of your eyes, and you feel one of them drip down your cheek as you say, "Fuck you, Cheolie. I'm so mad at you right now."

Seungcheol's jaw drops. "What?"

You use the hand not currently being held to angrily scrub at the tears continuing to fall. "I bet Seungkwan that I wouldn't cry at the wedding, and now I'm about to be out fifty bucks, and it's all your fault."

He laughs, incredulous and confused, and he uses one hand to start gently wiping your cheeks with a napkin. "I— I'm sorry?"

"You should be! You can't spring something so disgustingly romantic on me when I'm drunk and already in a state of heightened emotions!" You send him a particularly scathing glare over the hand he leaves pressed against your cheek. "Especially when I'm realizing how utterly and irrevocably in love with you I am! Fuck you!"

He starts giggling, and it's one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard, and it only serves to make you even angrier. With the tone of a man who's absolutely besotted, he says, "I always forget you're such a belligerent drunk."

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156 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[90stvshowgoth]

—THE BET

summary: you thought that as a member of the phantom troupe you were supposed to be smarter than this, yet here you were betting against hisoka. everyone knew that hisoka was a master at poker, cards were his weapon after all, but you couldn’t resist wagering one more bet on a drinking game.

w/c: 4587

tags: dubcon, drunk sex, creampie, blood kink, hate sex, begging, brat taming

a/n: this originally started as a chrollo oneshot, you can kinda tell from how the opening paragraph is about him, but once i started writing the poker game i was like “okay no i gotta make this its own thing,” and because of that decision we now have loose ends getting ch.3 rn :) also no, i couldn’t help but kinda reference phantom of the opera cause it slaps and nobody can tell me otherwise. also, no, before anyone asks, this is a oneshot. it aint getting a sequel.

big thanks to the lovely miss @sealedrosewater for beta reading this clownfucking nightmare.

The heist had gone off without a hitch, Chrollo’s plan worked like a charm and before the night was out you had all flawlessly extracted each and every one of the gilded texts being held in the museum. You still remembered the childlike gleam in your boss’ eyes as he ran his fingers over the aged leather, its binding parchment laced with gold. The faintest ghost of a smile fled from his pallid lips as he admired his new conquest. It made your chest swell with pride, happy to help the man you respected so much. Besides, your cut was nothing to sneeze at.

Your rendezvous was inside a long-abandoned opera theatre where dust clung to the red velvet of the seats and the chandelier was seemingly hanging by a thread; your boss always had a flair for the dramatics. Once all members of the spider had finished reconvening at the empty theatre to gather their spoils it wasn’t long before someone, probably Uvogin, brought out the drinks. Nobunaga had already begun nursing a rum and coke, all while Feitan kept turning down Shal’s insistence to “Just try some, Fei,” Even Shizuku cracked open one of the ice-cold bottles, knocking back an impressive swig. As soon as you saw Machi pulling out a deck of cards you knew you had to stay for the after party.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of your leader. He’d gone to his room with the book you recovered tucked under his arm. A few other members who couldn’t be bothered took after your leader and went off to whichever side room they’d stashed a futon in the week prior; the Phantom Troupe’s equivalent of picking out a bedroom. A shame, really. You’d seen Feitan drunk once before and it was truly a sight to behold.

You sat crosslegged on the wooden floor, watching your comrades slowly get comfortable for a night of fun. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat above you, looking up to see Pakunoda with a soft smile on her face and an opened beer in her outstretched hand.

“Paku, have I ever told you how much I love you?” You couldn’t help but shower the woman with praise. She had been the one who recommended you to Chrollo after all, and she served as your mentor for your first few months until you found your feet.

She scoffed at the compliment, “Far too much,”

Sticking your tongue out playfully at the mindreader, you took a deep sip of beer, enjoying the familiar taste. Paku sat down beside you and it wasn’t long before the two of you were drinking shoulder to shoulder.

“Machi! Deal us in,” You raised your drink to the transmuter and she flicked two cards towards you both.

Scooting away from Paku, you quickly scanned the cards you’d received before pressing them face down. A queen and an ace. Not great, but not awful either.

The others had formed a haphazard circle, each glancing at their cards with an unreadable poker face. Well, all except Hisoka, who seemed pleased as punch with whatever hand he’d been dealt. Silently, Nobunaga took out two coins and threw them into the center— the Troupe’s house rules counting it to be equivalent to 2 billion jenny.

“Call,” you answered, matching the swordsman’s bet with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Oh? Well then, I’ll raise you,” Hisoka purred, pushing five extra chips into the pot without breaking his gaze from yours.

‘What was he planning?’ That smug look of his just made you want to win that much more. The same seemed to be true of everyone else, each calling the clown’s bet in a row. After all, to a member of the Phantom Troupe, five billion jenny wasn’t that much of a loss.

When Machi turned up the first three cards your heart skipped a beat. Two queens and a seven. Winning a round of poker against some of the smartest criminals the world had ever known was an uphill battle, seeing as how you’d been a member for years without winning a single game.

‘Three of a kind already... what should I do?’ Your face was as stone-cold as before, even with the excitement bubbling in your gut. As nonchalantly as you could, you raised another two billion. At that, Uvo and Shizuku both folded, the enhancer grumbling with a disappointed frown.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I haven’t got enough coins~” Hisoka slapped down a twenty, and a chorus of annoyed groans broke out like a choir, the abandoned theatre’s acoustics amusingly echoed the loud noises of displeasure.

After that little stunt only three others remained: Pakunoda, who’s facade hadn’t cracked all game, Nobunaga, who was glaring daggers at Hisoka, and the aforementioned magician holding up his cards in front of him like a child playing for the first time.

All three of you matched his bet, but none were happy about it. As Machi flipped over the fourth card you found yourself holding your breath. Not because you particularly cared about the money at stake, but because you felt closer to a victory than you had in months. The caricature of a medieval jester being illuminated under the light made you dig your nails into the palm of your hand.

Joker. That meant you had four queens.

It never felt harder to fight a smile off your face than in that moment. Without betraying your excitement, you called, and to your surprise so did Hisoka. Was he bluffing? Or did he have something else in mind? Nobunaga took a deep breath, knocking back the rest of his drink before calling alongside Pakunoda.

All eyes were on the card beneath Machi’s fingertips, the seconds it took to turn the paper on its head filled the theatre with a suspense liable to bring its fragile walls to the ground.

An eight of hearts. Oh well, no big deal.

Nobunaga muttered a curse under his breath, revealing a simple jack and ten of the same suit. Pakunoda was unreadable when she showed the pair of kings she held in her hands. She must’ve thought that the three of a kind would’ve won her the game. The smile on your face felt sweeter after holding it in the whole round, and Nobunaga rolled his eyes when he saw your hand, pushing the pot towards you.

“Well, look at that~” Your victory was interrupted by Hisoka’s insufferable tone, the cards he held up making your jaw drop.

A nine and a jack of hearts. A straight flush.

“That’s bullshit!” You cried, enraged over the loss. It wasn’t even that you cared so much about losing, It only mattered because you lost to him. In an instant you had summoned your nen into the palms of your hands, ready to lunge at the clown when Pakunoda grasped your shoulders, holding you back. Sometimes you forgot how much brute strength was hidden under that pantsuit.

“Just flip a coin, don’t give him what he wants.” Your first reaction was to ignore her, squirming against her iron grip to try and get to Hisoka, who was dramatically scooping all your winnings into his arms.

Uvogin tossed yet another empty beer can over his head, “C’mon Paku, I say let ‘em fight,”

“I concur~” The magician chirped, dramatically stacking each and every coin he’d won while boring his yellow eyes right into yours. His tongue parted his lips, a manic excitement hiding behind the coy expression.

Although every muscle in your body screamed at you to rip into him, you knew you wouldn’t win. He knew your abilities and you couldn’t say for certain you knew all of his.

“Never-mind,” You spat the words out at him like they tasted sour, “You’d probably get off on it anyways.”

A few laughs from the peanut gallery followed your words and Hisoka shrugged, the intense bloodlust from a few seconds ago vanishing as if he’d changed his mind about fighting you on a whim. “You may be right, darling,” your face scrunched up at the nickname you knew he only used to get on your nerves, which it did. “but what if we played a different game?”

Despite how badly you just wanted to ignore him and laugh the night away with all but one of your comrades, you couldn’t turn down the idea of a rematch. Your pride wasn’t nothing to you. “What kind of game?” You asked hesitantly.

He hummed, standing up from the towers of coin he’d made, sauntering over to the cooler of drinks Franklin had provided. After digging around the cold box he pulled out a bottle of fruity tequila and two empty shot glasses.

Your eyes narrowed at the “innocent” smile on his face, looking over to Pakunoda for reassurance.

“You’ll kill him if he spikes my drink, right?” You asked your mentor, who nodded resolutely.

Paku was staring at Hisoka like she was already thinking of ten different ways how to kill him. After sizing him up she flashed you a reassuring nod, “Without question.”

Resolute in your decision, you marched forward, snatching one of the shot glasses from his hand. The stage lights shone above him, making his eyes gleam like the plastic gloss of a doll.

“Shall we begin, then?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What are the rules first?”

He waved his hand in the air, brushing it off, “Nothing too complex, I assure you. The first one who taps out will lose. The loser will do something for the winner. That’s all.”

You still weren’t convinced it could be that simple. “What’s the catch?”

That smirk from before returned to his painted face and he suddenly leaned forward, feeling far too close for comfort. Still, you didn’t step away, your face expressionless as he whispered into your ear. If you did you felt like he’d somehow win whatever stand-still the two of you had on.

“If I lose, I’ll leave the Phantom Troupe,” You reeled away, stunned at his declaration.

Being accepted into the Troupe was the best moment of your life, it always would be. When you looked into the mirror at the tattoo that curled under your ribcage you felt such a warm swell of pride. You couldn’t imagine throwing it all away over some drinking game.

“And...” You blinked rapidly, trying to collect yourself, “If I lose?”

The laugh that echoed from his chest was far from reassuring.

The evening slowly ran into the early morning, each of the other Troupe members wandering off eventually in varying stages of drunkenness. Even Pakunoda headed off to bed after confirming that Hisoka hadn’t spiked your drinks with anything other than a strawberry vodka base. It was unnerving at first, to be completely alone with Omokage’s replacement. Luckily his tastes ran strong, and your vision was spinning before your knew it.

“Match.” Another shot went down your throats, the taste disgustingly sweet, and you watched as his Adam’s apple tensed from the burn.

You’d long since stopped counting how many drinks you’d had, losing track once you got to the double digits. You were both using nen to reinforce yourselves, obviously, but it wasn’t infallible.

‘How is he so good at this?’ You wondered, because as the bottle ran low you started to question just what had made you so confident as to enter a bet with Hisoka in the first place.

“My dear, why not rest for a minute? At least try to enjoy each others company?” His legs were crossed, resting his hand on his palm as he not-so-subtly checked you out. It wasn’t uncommon, and certainly not unexpected from someone like him, but what you hated wasn’t just the nerve of him, but how it made you feel. His scrutiny sent chills down your spine, the unnerving edge to his tone only making you shift your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,” you knocked back two consecutive shots, unable to hide the wince it caused on your face. Good, you wanted it to sting. Anything to take your mind off the magician in front of you.

He pouted as he poured another row of drinks, “Aw, now why’s that?”

You answered his question with another, pointing towards the half-empty bottle of liquor, “Whats in this, really?”

The magician rolled his eyes, “I did pick an unopened bottle for a reason, dear, I do so want you to trust me.”

Without much fanfare he threw back four shots, over your stunned reaction.

“Just give up already, Darling~ I promise to make it worth your while,” You were reaching your limit for sure, but you were far to stubborn to give up without a fight.

“Fuck you,” you took the first of your next four shots slowly, not managing his fast pace.

He grinned a cheshire smile, “Oh, say that again, will you?”

If he were to call you out on the blush slowly spreading across your nose you’d just blame the alcohol, but the truth was that his words just egged you on even more to the point where you were almost—barely even considering...

“What do you mean, make it worth my while?”

He leaned forward like a cat, agile and silent, whispering his words against your temple, “I’ll tell you how I won that hand,” He got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“You’ll tell me how you cheated?”

Hisoka nodded, a clawed hand coming to stroke a stray piece of hair behind your ear, the action far too intimate for someone like him.

There was no way you’d win against him in this match, that much was clear from the very sober way Hisoka held himself against you, inhumanly still, so what did you have to lose?

‘Your dignity,’ A part of you answered back, but it wasn’t all that convincing. You’d left your dignity behind four shots ago.

“If I lose...”

“If you lose,” He mouthed the words into your cheek, his eyes closed in thought, “You do know what I’ve decided my prize shall be, right?” Of course you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, and the way he nuzzled himself into your neck was far from subtle.

Were you actually so desperate to learn how you lost that you’d sleep with him?

No, you weren’t. But the ache between your legs was getting harder to ignore, and the idea that you could write off what you were about to do behind the excuse of gathering intel sounded like a win-win.

You dug your hands into his hair, not trying to be anything but rough, basking in the moan that spilled from his lips, breath hot against your neck before you yanked him back to meet your gaze.

“Fine. You win, Hisoka,” He smirked, and although he was on his knees he still towered over you, “so how did you cheat?”

Before you could blink his hand had wrapped around your throat, the magician slamming your head into the wood of the stage. You’d had plenty of time to block the damage with your hatsu but the action left your brain rattling inside your skull.

“I’ll tell you later,” He promised, the disorienting blur was slow to fade from the alcohol, and distantly you could feel his other hand stroke your face, his nails like filed daggers trailing over your cheekbones.

“What to do with my prize, then, hm?” He mused, tilting your head from left to right as if examining a block of wood he was about to carve. You coughed on impulse when he let go of your neck, guiding it up instead and taking both your small hands into his palm with an iron grip.

With a flick of his wrist he drew a card, the eight of hearts, seemingly out of nowhere, his nen sharpening it into a thin blade, “Don’t move,”

“Wait... Hisoka, don’t—!” You were far too late to stop him, the frigid air of the ghostly theatre rushing to meet the bare skin of your chest.

Your shirt fell to ribbons along with your bra and you thrashed desperately in his grasp, angry over the loss of your favorite top. He paid your escape attempt no mind, enraptured with the way your tits rose and fell with the timing of your breath and the way you tried to wriggle yourself free.

Still holding your hands to the floor above you, his head bent to wrap a skilled tongue around your tits, a soft sigh involuntarily falling away from you.

“I fuckin’ ha-ate you, Hisoka—ah,” His teeth bit down on your peak at the comment, peering up at you from under his fiery hair.

“Oh? Then why is it you’re moaning like a little whore?” He shifted his weight above you and you saw an opportunity.

You kicked with all your strength between his legs, pulling your knee back and shoving him off with a dig of your shoe into his stomach, “I’m not, don’t call me that shit!”

He actually loosened his grip on you clearly not intending for you to get free from his grasp, a choked sound of what you thought was pain devolving to something much more heated as he stared into you.

“You... are well worth the wait, my dear,” His bloodlust seeped out from every pore, grounding you to the spot. You could usually hold your own against someone like him but it wasn’t hard to see the disadvantage you were at.

Within a fraction of a second he was on you, twisting your waist in his clawed grasp until your ass was hiked into the air, a sharpened playing card slicing through the denim until he could rip it from your legs, yelp echoing like music in the long-silent theatre.

“I knew you’d have some fight left in you,” He crawled forward and you started to realize why he wore exclusively baggy pants, his length hot against you through the fabric as his hips caged you in. As he began to remove that street-performer getup he always wore he’d occasionally curl his hand around your waist to mercifully tug on your ignored clit, your groans muffled and cursed, “I love it. That resilience? It just turns me on.”

You could feel your confidence fade as he tugged those sweatpants down, the weight of him grinding into your ass made all your bravado vanish.

“It will make it so much more satisfying...” He pointed his finger upwards, and suddenly your hands became magnetized to each other, no amount of struggle even budging the rubbery nen substance. “...when I break you.”

Without warning he slid himself inside you, hands holding your hips still as he forced your back into an arch. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, the flailing of your bound arms useless as he shallowly began pumping his cock deeper inside you.

Your muffled curses whispered into the floor made him laugh, pulling his hand back and cruelly slapping the vulnerable flesh of your ass without a warning.

“Wh.. Why?”

“Because, darling, I want to hear you beg for me.” He pouted, teasing your clenched walls with only the tip of his slick head.

Despite the desire coursing through your veins you still had your pride in tact, “Never gonna happen, asshole.”

Gripping your hips, he dug himself into your dripping cunt as far as he could, both of you unrestrained with a moan at the feeling of his cock brushing near your cervix, your hips traitorously snapping back to meet his eager thrusts, movement near impossible as Hisoka forced you into the ground.

You cried out softly with each quick pull and stretch, only able to say his name one syllable at a time,

“Hi-so—kah...” It was hard to turn your head to the side from his brutal pace but somehow you manage, craning yourself in order to see him; His head was thrown back with a sheer bliss softening his glistening skin, his eyes closed and lips parted. The sight made your keening grow louder, the simple image of him losing himself in your twitching pussy sending a wave of slick dripping around his length.

He must’ve felt your gaze on him because soon enough his was staring at you, his pupils blown wide with desire in a way that made them look like a sun eclipsed, black outlined with a ring of fiery gold.

All at once his hips froze, digging his cock so far as to leave an indent in your pelvis. For a confused second you thought he’d finished, but his gaze was cruel and focused, his lips in a smirk, and you felt no more full than you had a moment ago. He was doing this on purpose.

“Wait, no-nono, wh..y?” You hiccuped, taking his break as a moment to wipe unshed tears from your glossy eyes.

He sighed, “I don’t like repeating myself, darling,” He accentuated the infuriating nickname with a slap to your thigh, face unchanged as he trailed his sharpened fingertips along the reddening skin.

“His..oh.. fuck, Hisoka—“ The banished tears returned, falling silently down your pink face as you whispered, “please,”

“Hmm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, my dear, mind saying that again?

Your voice hiccuped as you spoke, “Please, alright? Please,” You thought it’d be enough, that he might finally go back to toying with your clit while he fucked you into the old floorboards, but you’d underestimated the magician’s self-control.

Innocently, he tilted his head, “Please what, dear? Please hit you again?” Hisoka didn’t blink as he slowly brought up his palm, giving you plenty of time to try and wiggle free from your punishment just to show off how futile escape really was, lashing his hand down on the same patch of skin as before, grinning at the shriek he yanked from your lungs.

“No! No, fu-uck.. just—“ You whimpered, brain seemingly disconnected from your mouth as you struggled to form the words, “just fuck me, Hisoka, please.”

“Look at you, huh? You were a slut after all,” He purred, letting the weight of your words hang lifeless in the air along with your stubborn pride. Before you could argue again his hand had returned to your clit, pace unforgiving as he pulled your nerves ever closer to snapping only to halt the second he grew bored, “Say it,”

Mindlessly, you nodded your head, “I’m yours, I’m your slut, Hisoka,” you intentionally clenched yourself around him, mumbling lucid pleas for more as his hard cock twitched, pre cum dripping from your heat onto the floor as your conscience trying to deny what your body so willingly accepted, “want you to fuck me, Hisoka, fu-ck,” you whined, the still presence inside your sensitive walls drove you insane.

With each word a truly unhinged aura began to surround him, and by extension, you, the intoxicating menace dripping over you like a drug as you faced forward once again, wiggling your ass as best you could in his grip.

That was his breaking point, ripping you away from his cock only to drive himself back in, digging the full blade of his nails into your hips, blood pooling around the crescent cuts.

“Fuck, ah.. Darling, ‘doing so good, so good’fr me-ah,” He slurred his words together, more drunk on you than the vodka as he leaned back, forcing you to meet him as his thrusts became so quick that it was getting hard to breathe, your ribcage creaking with discomfort as you were nailed into the stage.

“M..o-re, more...” You begged, and he was happy to oblige. the smearing crimson of blood running hot down your thighs, the pain only making you more pliant in his sculptor’s hands as he folded your body however he liked, ignoring your pained weep from the stretch as he slung one of your bleeding legs over his shoulder.

It was almost weird to hear him say your actual name, so often he used a pet name to mock or flirt with you, sometimes both, “So good for me like this, taking me so goo-uh,” He choked on his words as your cunt tightened around him, your hands clinging for balance in his hair, and Hisoka clearly didn’t mind if the slew of moans from his lips was any indication.

The angle his hips cut into had the edges of your vision turning into a vignette, “I’m close, so close, gonna cum inside you, yeah? Right here,” The hand that had been toying with your clit changed angles, his fingertips spinning spirals onto your aching bud while the flat of his hand pushed against your stomach, your shout swallowed by his pretty lips, tongue toying with yours.

“Ye-es cum inn-side me,” You were too far gone to care, anything he said sounded good as long as he said it in that sultry purr, arms numb as they lay suspended above your head.

“Take it, take it, Darling,” With what little strength you had left you curved your calf beside his neck, pulling him in until his cock brushed your cervix, the pain indistinguishable from the pleasure, “Uhn, cumm-fuck, i’m cumming—“

His cum was thick, the curve of his cock jutting inside you as he filled you up, mercifully swallowing your hallowed scream as he kissed you deeply, almost all feeling in your raised leg lost until he lowered it to his waist, involuntarily snapping his hips up although they had nowhere left to go until your moan turned into a broken sob of lingering bliss.

“Shh, dear, I’ve got you,” With a whirl of his wrist your arms were free of his bungee gum, shakily pulling them to your sides again as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, whispering a slurred mess of sweet words, stopping to suck a particularly deep hickey into the vein of your flesh.

“Hisoka, quit it!” Your fight had returned along with feeling to your fingertips as you wrenched him back by the hair, his cock jumping.a bit inside you at the grip, “I’ll have to wear sweaters for weeks now, you jerk.”

The capillaries had already begun to burst as he laughed, reaching up behind your head to pull his discarded top forward, digging out what looked like a piece of smooth cleaning cloth from its pocket and lying it over your neck with a simple point of his finger, gyo revealing the pink gum of his aura that controlled it before he smoothed the fabric over your skin, the texture so light you could barely feel it.

“A deal’s a deal, love, I’ll tell you how I cheated,” He smiled as satisfied and smug as he could ever be, a tingling sensation overtaking the patch of covered skin.

As he pulled your hand away you ran your fingers over the cloth, not finding a seam among the normal tone of your chest. Eyes wide as you looked at him for answers he was already happy to provide, “It’s called texture surprise. I can apply it to any flat surface and change its appearance. It’s quite handy,”

“It works on skin, paper, even playing cards,” You felt like an idiot. During the match you kept analyzing him for a sleight of hand trick all while he was using a second nen technique to win. It was so simple but genius, and you felt a little bit better knowing you weren’t outwitted by something obvious.

“You’re the worst, Hisoka,”

He chuckled, kissing along the new unblemished canvas of your neck, “I know~”

[lady-literature]

I rewrite Sky High

okay so, disclaimer: sky high was actually pretty damn good for it’s time and a lot of the plot twists/tropes used in it were still just starting out and not as commonplace as they are today. so 10/10 really good movie.

Also as i was writing this, it turned into half analysis of what’s already in the movie and half things I would change about the movie so,,, yeah. enjoy!

***

So the point about Sky High is that and the way the school and hero society as a whole works, is that you, as the audience, are supposed to look at it and know that it’s a flawed system. We’re supposed to see it as an injustice that kids are sorted into hero or sidekick- Sorry, I mean ‘Hero Support,’ on your first day of school based on something you can’t even control.

(This movie was my hero academia-ing it up before it was cool.)

Anyway, the movie calls a lot of attention to it in the beginning, but then doesn't actually give it the resolution it deserves in the end. Which, not cool guys.

The Hero/Sidekick debacle is, on the whole, a very thinly veiled metaphor for the problems minorities face. Specifically, those of the alphabet mafia, or LGBTQ, as we’re more commonly known.

There are a lot of examples for this so I’ll speed through the big ones real quick:

Will’s nerves regarding not having attraction to girls superpowers?

The way he tries to fake having an attraction to girls superpowers to get approval from his dad?

Being literally outed in front of his whole class (by someone named Boomer no less) and then immediately trying to hide it from his parents as long as possible?

The constant references to being a ‘late bloomer’. Doesn’t it remind you of the common phrases: ‘it’s just a phase’ or ‘don’t worry. You’ll start liking [opposite gender] eventually.’ ?

The scene in the kitchen, right after Will introduces the Sidekick Squad (and yes, that is what I’ll be referring to them as for the rest of this essay tumblr post). Will is so obviously trying to gauge how his dad is going to take his friends being sidekicks and also him being a sidekick. I just, this is so blatantly a coming out scene? How does anybody not see it as that?

(also the dad talking so offhandedly about bigotry and the hatred his own father had for sidekicks??? Who else has been there?)

Will telling his dad that he doesn’t care, that he’s proud of being gay to be a sidekick is just,,, *chef’s kiss*

With all of this backing behind Will and him growing into not being ashamed of his lack of powers, My first change would be that Will does not, in fact receive his father’s super strength. It’s just such a cop out! The movie had all this amazing build up, and this brilliant metaphor it could have used and, instead, they threw it all away.

The sudden acquisition of powers and immediate acceptance by his peers, feels too close to someone being ‘fixed’. That Will wasn’t good enough the way he was and had to be better, had to be his father in order to be good enough.

So, no. Will remains powerless.

Instead of the revelation of ‘he’s strong’, we get to let the Sidekick Squad shine.

Lash and Speed still cause a fight between Warren and Will, but when Will is under the table, the sidekicks actually do something.

Will knocks the table over (not, like, lifting Warren up but something closer to pushing him off. I mean, even I could push upwards from underneath a table fast enough that if someone is standing on it, they’d lose their balance and fall to the ground) and that starts things.

The Sidekick Squad all grab forgotten lunch trays or cartons of milk or something and throw it at Warren. It isn’t long then that the whole scene devolves into a food fight (Zach, at least, does not have good aim and probably hits a bystander accidentally, drawing more people in, until the whole cafeteria is involved.) The fight turns into something more playful, but still with that bit of an undertone of trying to actually hurt each other.

Ethan melts at one point and (accidentally) causes Warren to slip and land on his back, Magenta probably punches someone (not Warren) and Zach is just mouthing off to anybody who gets close enough. Near the end, right before Principal Powers shows up, Layla finally gets the right idea and just fire extinguishes the shit out of Warren.

(Side note here: I am very much also nixing the Layla crushes on Will plotline. I love best friends to lovers just as much as the next person but… no. Let kids see boy/girl friendships! 

Instead, I will be inserting a Layla/Warren love story and you can consider this the first scene on the road for that.)

Anyway, the whole Sidekick Squad plus Warren ends up in the detention room and all of them are covered in food. Right after Principal Powers leaves, the Sidekick Squad is immediately talking excitedly to each other about how cool they just were and what they did. Basically it’s very wholesome and they’re all hyping each other up and then one of them, Layla or Will, excitedly turns to Warren and goes, ‘and that thing you did with the fireballs? God! I don’t think Lash is going to have any eyebrows for a month’ and the tension between them all but drops.

Warren, of course, tries to push them away and not get involved with their ridiculousness, but the Sidekick Squad is stubborn and by the end of detention, everyone but Warren is in agreement that he’s a part of the Squad now. They will not leave him alone. They also start hanging out at the Paper Lantern all the time just to annoy/make fun of him in that loving way friends do.

(I just want Warren to be a part of the Squad guys. Will calls him his best friend at the end but what did the movie actually do to show they were friends? Nothing, that’s what. I want that fixed.)

So the cafeteria fight boosts the whole Squad’s reputation, right? People think those sidekicks are pretty cool, and they get their fifteen minutes of fame. Only… Will gets a little hooked on the feeling of being popular. He doesn’t want to be a capital-h Hero or anything! But, well… he’d be lying if he didn’t like people thinking he was cool.

The others don’t really care all that much about being cool, but Will does. He hates that he does but what is he supposed to do? He can’t change how he feels. So he starts trying to make himself more popular and sometimes tries dragging his friends into stupid schemes.

And then enter stage right, one Gwen Grayson.

I prefer Gwen being Royal Pain’s daughter, actually. A girl who would’ve had no stock in this fight but her mother, who is sickly and weak and survives mostly because her daughter takes care of her, practically brainwashes Gwen to do her bidding.

Gwen is a minion here, and also, perhaps, a victim.

At first, she follows her mom’s orders and charms Will into dating her. She also feeds into his desire to gain popularity but can’t, in this world, break him from his friends. Actually, Will brings Gwen along to the Sidekick Squad hangouts and, slowly, she becomes a part of the group too.

She starts to doubt her mother. Starts to care for Will and the Squad.

She throws the party, and the Squad is all invited (trying to break them up isn’t conducive to the Plan her mother has anyway and wouldn’t work besides) but she lures Will away to make out and… other things, and he brings her to the Sanctum for privacy just like before. She still steals the pacifier (or whatever death ray equivalent you want idk) but she and Will don’t break up at the end of the night.

It’s not actually until two days later, right before the dance is going to start, does Gwen decide she can’t stand back and let this happen anymore. She spills the whole plot and her betrayal to Will when he comes to pick her up for the dance. She’s crying and apologizing and basically expecting to be hated forever by the only people she thinks ever actually liked her.

And, well. Will is furious at her for lying but there’s more important things to deal with at the moment. They’ll talk more about this and he’ll be angry, but that’s all going to be later. Right now they have a school to save so he grabs her hand and starts running to warn the rest of their friends.

Things happen mostly as canon from that point with minor changes.

It’s Warren who pulls Layla into a kiss before they all split off into groups, telling her to kick ass and stay safe before sprinting off after Speed. There have been scenes throughout the movie where the two are very obviously getting closer and are into each other. And then, before the dance, while Gwen and Will we’re technically going as a couple, the whole Squad was going as a group.

When Warren and Layla saw each other all dolled up, it’s very cliché. Warren says she looks nice and Layla visibly gulps at his outfit of a button down and suit pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows (because homeboy does not wear a full tux you can fight me on this).

And also, Will doesn’t fight Royal Pain by himself. Instead, Gwen is there with him and they don’t fight with super strength. Gwen’s been helping Will build an arsenal of gadgets a la Batman and the two face off against her mom together, Gwen with her powers, and Will acting as half support and half as a watered-down Batman who still needs some more training before he’s totally polished.

The school falls from the sky, but Gwen buys them time by keeping the anti gravs working through sheer force of will, while Will holds off her mom from attacking her while she’s vulnerable and concentrating. Magenta eventually kills the EMP or whatever it was, and the day is saved.

Gwen passes out, cause ~drama~ but she ends up okay so don’t worry. She’s just exhausted. 

The sidekicks get their recognition and then immediately bounce because dances suck and they all agree that they should go to the Paper Lantern instead to celebrate cause they’re tired, alright? Saving the day is hard.

So it’s all of them, a little battered and bruised and exhausted, crowded into this corner booth and laughing and being kids. The camera does it’s fade to comic book page thing, and the narration is something more along the lines of:

“Royal Pain and her cronies got locked away. Gwen and I talked things out, and she’s getting help for all the stuff her mom did to her. We’re taking things slow in the meantime.

The school is undergoing a lot of changes to the curriculum and getting rid of the whole ‘hero/sidekick’ divisions. (Mostly at the urging of my parents… and Layla). Next year is going to look a lot different, I think.

But it’ll be a good different, just like we are. None of us were what we were expected to be, and, I think, we’re going to keep defying expectations. There’s a whole world out there that needs changing.

And I can’t think of a better group of friends to do it with.”

THE END

(just give me found family saves the day by being themselves rather than somebody else, give me them saving the day because they care about each other, give me them fighting for what’s right and fixing things. please i am b e g g i n g.)

***

Additional nitpicks that are small but Very Important to Me

Coach Boomer is still called coach Boomer because there is no way I am missing out on the ‘okay, boomer’ jokes

Layla stays like Layla, but i’d like for the movie to stop trying to make her seem annoying for her beliefs or like she’s wrong to be so vocal about them. Her caring about things that are wrong ends up as the butt of too many jokes and i… do not like that.

Why so many dad/son scenes? Why this janky imbalance parenting dynamic between the Strongholds. Knock that shit off. I want happy functional family thank you very much

Mr Boy and the mad scientist are very obviously in a relationship

Wait, actually: mr boy, mad scientist and Boomer are al in a poly relationship and are ridiculous about it

I’d like to see more of the sidekick classes going over like, ‘the boring’ parts of the job, and teaching the kids how to deal with the aftermath of the heroes heroics, just to hammer in the fact that the system is fucked up and that it’s messed up that the heroes get all the recognition while the sidekicks are left to clean up the mess

Use actual 14 year old actors? These kids look like seniors.

Or, if you want more ‘mature’ characters make it so sky high is like,,, a finishing school or smth. Something kids 16 and over go to.

(What the fuck kind of parent thinks that their freshman child dating a senior is a good idea?? An almost adult coming onto a fourteen year old??? Are you trying to make Will’s parents (particularly the dad) seem like irresponsible assholes??)

Gwen is, at most, a year above Will in this rewrite, kay?

[funnyexel]

Quiet Tsundere x Reader

A/n: This is a drabble. If you like it don’t be shy, leave a request. In the requests on my page. Enjoy <3333

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Yawning, your locker slams shut. You jump at the sudden action, drowsiness present in your form. He towered over you. Looking down at you as if you’re a lesser being than him. You stared back at him. Silently having a staring contest until you gave in. Yawning once again, you lean against the locker. “Yes?” You grip onto your books as they slowly slip out of your hands. He only looks you up and down. Hitting your books with little effort nearly knocking them out your hand and poking you with minimal force. “I’m tired. I was up all night.” You rub your watery eyes. He walked away from you. Maybe onto his next class but it was beyond you as the bell rang to continue your tiring school day. 

You sat in your usual choice of seats. In the back, you’ve been doing this since the first few weeks of school. The words coming out of the teachers mouth was equivalent to gibberish. You didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand. Sleep was taking over your body as your head met the comfortable school desk. And just like that you were back into dream world. How you ended up sleeping in class was an interesting reason. To think it’d be because of studying or something like that but no. It was because of dumb, never gonna happen fantasies. And with the last person you thought would be in your head in this type of way. How in the world did this happen? Funny story...

“You’re telling me. You have no feelings whatsoever. If he’s not sexually harassing you, they say it’s a sign he likes you.” You roll your eyes at her ridiculous accusations. In your mind, the day he likes you is the day pigs fly. “Mhm. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. He doesn’t utter a word to me. What makes you think he likes me.” You chuckle, hearing how crazy it sounds coming from your mouth. This goes on for days and days on end. Until you’re up at night, thinking if he really does like you. Making scenes and scenarios in your head about confessions, dates and other things.

 And most unexpectedly fantasies about his voice, if it would be deep and smooth or high and premature. It really stumped you. You heard rumors around the school about how his voice is deep and gravely like concrete. Whatever that means, but then again it’s just rumors. Could be true, could be false but only the one the rumor is about will know. On the flip side, his “friends” were noticing his actions towards you as well. It was sudden nonetheless but it was frequently that they would see him around you. He had one true friend. One he knew since the crayon stage. 

He’s the only one that he got comfortable enough around to speak and use his voice. Why is this? He was insecure about his voice. It wasn’t bad or anything but he thought it was super deep, so one day after puberty hit him he decided to stop talking and only talk around those he’s comfortable around. He wanted you to be one of those people. Oh, how it would overjoy him for you to be one of those people. He could talk for hours and hours on end if he had the right person. And in the back of his mind, you were his right person. Corny? Yes and he knew this so he kept to himself. Keeping it well hidden at that. 

The girls that hung around his “friends” hung around him too and he disliked it. These wasn’t his kind of people, they were cool and whatever but not his type of crowd. They started to pick at you while he turned a blind eye. Saying small remarks like “such a pick me girl” and “she came outside wearing that?” It was subtle at first but became more and more obvious. Even though he wouldn’t talk, his body language spoke volumes. With a stare he stopped them from picking at you but it only stopped momentarily. Given they saw how it riled him up and they thought it was hot in a way. Very weird I know. 

“Y/n.” What’s that noise? You thought. “Y/n L/n!” A pair of hands slam on your desk causing you to jump up. They could visibly see the tiredness in your face. “Y/n, go to I.S.S.” They demand. The class inserts cartoon like noises, while you pack up your belongs and make your way to the classroom. You huff as you close the door to your classroom. Sleepily walking to the I.S.S. classroom which is turning into a jog as the hall monitor cracks down on you. They follow you to I.S.S. and close the door behind you. You look at the basically empty classroom with barely anyone in it. 

Sitting down at one of the back desks, you take out a notebook and doodle. A few minutes pass by and a piece of paper slides its way onto your desk. You didn’t see where it came from so you opened it. “how’d a goodie two shoes end up in here?” You lip sync to yourself, now knowing who its from. There lay, the way too familiar bookbag. You sigh and crumple the paper in your hand, putting it in your backpack. Now going back to your doodling activities. This time a paper ball hit your head and landed in front of you. “stop crumpling up my note, idoit.” You roll your eyes and write under his words. 

“you spelled that wrong and I’ll keep crumpling it up if I want to.” You throw it into his lap. He sat at the desk, in front of you to the left. “I know I did, you autocorrect junkie. did you break a pencil or better yet fold a paper wrong.” He was messing with you. “shut up and stop throwing this back, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” You finally go back to your doodling. You feel a minor yet hard kick in your leg. You jerk up ready to place your fury upon the poor soul. He puts his hand up for you to stop then points to the teacher, she was pregnant and out cold. He throws the paper at your chest and turns back.

Frustratingly, you open and read it. “she’s not even paying attention. and you have nothing better to do.” The temptation to crumple this paper is unbearable. “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” You throw the paper at his head, turning your body to the right and continue your doodling. Now in peace, you realize what you’re doodling. It was a mini comic about confessing. Alertly looking around, you rip out the page and shove it into your bookbag. ‘I hope no one saw that.’ You breath out at the thought. You felt little hits at your head, again and again and again. It was slowly getting to you. 

‘can’t this be over already.’ You bury your head into your arms. A soft tap is placed upon your right shoulder. Lifting up your head, an unbothered female rests the note on your desk. You’ve seen her before around the school, she was pretty antisocial as far as you knew. “Those group of girls in the front are staring at you.” At the last word, you lift up the note a bit to get the girls in your eye range. Placing the note on your desk, you reply. “nice to know...you wouldn’t happen to know why. would you?” You drop it on her desk. He stopped throwing paper at you. 

Unfolding her note. “because of your friend. watch out for them, they’re not so...friendly.” You glance at the women again, this time they notice you. “he’s not my friend. but thanks for the heads up. I’m y/n. what’s your name? I’ve seen you around before.” As you pass her the note, he gently places a note on your desk. “This is alot of note passing.” You mutter to yourself. “look at the door, stupid.” Rolling your eyes, you look and see your best friend. A smile creeps it’s way onto your face. “What are you doing?” You lip sync to her. “Class is over come on it’s lunch.” She motions you to come out.

Shaking your head, you receive the note from the girl. “Vera.” You put the note in your pocket and look back to your best friend having a silent squabble with him. You motion for her to stop. The sound of the bell echoes in the class, awaking the teacher. Looking to the ground, a puddle of papers engulf your feet. Thinking fast, you move your backpack closer to the papers and shove them all in your bag. “Ok. I don’t feel like filling in a report so this time, I’ll cut you all lose. Out.” She motions to the door and she didn’t have to tell you twice. You dashed to the door, almost knocking your best friend out. 

Taking her wrist, you pull her to the cafeteria. Sitting her outside at your usual table, she sighs. “He’s annoying....” You slowly nod to her observation. “Just right for you.” She adds to her unfinished statement with a devilish smile. You slap your hand to your forehead and shake your head. She chuckles, leaving to get lunch for you and her. You pull out the papers from your bag. All were blank except for one. 

“This note is for the Idiot who finds it.  You Lack In the brain department. Just so you Know. It Even hurts mY brain to talk tO yoU. Even though I don’t talk.” 

This note made no since what so ever, some letters were written over as if he made a mistake. You put the confusing note in your pocket for later. Feeling the breeze, you close your eyes and relax. “What do you want with Arthur?” A girl in close contact, spits with a noticeable cruel attitude. You open your eyes and they land on the same girls that were in I.S.S. They stare at you intensely. Causing you to answer. “Nothing.” You awkwardly say, playing with a piece of paper. She snatches the piece of paper from you. “Like hell! You’re ugly. He doesn’t like you and would never like you.” 

They encourage her hateful words. “Honestly, she’s the bottom of the barrel.” They begin to cackle at the ‘not so insulting’ insult. It was insulting but not so much for you to go crying to your mommy. Taking their leave. “And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” A snarky remark leaving your mouth, loud enough for them to hear. “What did you just say?” She turns her head, doll like. Reminding you of Annabelle. “I said, And him being with you would be the top of the barrel. Wouldn’t it?” You repeat yourself but speak slower so it can sink in. 

“Can we help you?” Quinn says, placing the food on the table and standing by you with her knee on the seat. “Listen here, skank. He doesn’t want you.” You roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I can tell. I’m not interested in him. You can knock yourself out. Metaphorically.” You sigh and take a water from the tray. She gets visibly more frustrated and mad at your unbothered state. Scoffing loudly, she leaves you alone. Glancing at the surroundings, people were gathering around you. They soon realized it was just a disagreement and go back to their business. Quinn was very surprised at how you handled the situation.

Surprised that you even responded to her. “I’ll beat her up.” You chuckle at your best friend. “Words can’t hurt me.” You breathy huff and lean your head in your palm. Secretly staring at her approaching him, smothering him. ‘He looks so uncomfortable.’ You stop staring at her and look at him. He catches your eye and you revert your eyes back to Quinn. She was staring at you the whole time. “I’m not interested in him, she says.” She mocks you, even adding her own commentary. The end of the day came pretty quickly. The halls were practically empty as you went to your locker for the rest of your stuff. 

“I just had to get held back by that teacher. Wasn’t I.S.S enough for them?” You say to yourself as you put your stuff in your backpack. The click of your lock, set about some rapid footsteps coming towards you. You looked and two people grabbed you by the arms. “Let go of me!” You yelled in her face. She laughs wickedly as you get dragged into the bathroom. They striped you of your bookbag and threw you into the stall doors. Your back hit harder than it sounded. As they started to beat you up, you reached into your pocket and pull out your taser, tasing someone in the ankle. 

They dropped down to the ground and this was your chance. Hurriedly crawling to the bathroom door, you push it open. At that moment, you got away. A tight grip is placed upon your ankles with all your might you hold onto the door frame and scream to the top of your lungs. All the while, one of them were pulling your ankles with all their might. Your hands gave in as soon as another pair of palms gripped onto your ankles. Your screams echoed from the bathroom for a moment until an inhuman slam came across the door. Silence filled the restroom, you laid on the floor bruised up and lightly bloody as they stopped their movements to the new person. 

Hearing yelps of surprise, soon enough you were being lift up bridal style in strong arms. Your left eye refusing to open, you stared at him with your right. A heavy sigh of relief, left your lips as you leaned into him a little closer than before. The far too familiar sound of cheap paper crumping fills your ears as he sets you down on the nurses table. The nurse wasn’t there but the door was unlocked. He got some band-aids and alcohol. Sitting on a chair next to the table, he patched you up best he could. You avoided eye contact with him at all costs. “This is awkward.” His voice shook you to your core. Though you were already shaking from the recent events. 

“y-yeah.” Voice low and sore from screaming. He finished, putting all the stuff back, placing a ice pack to a huge bruise on your leg and giving you another for your eye. You stayed quiet for the most part, but you reached into your pocket and held out the crumbled note to him. He looked to you and took it. Leaving the ice pack on your leg, he unfolded it and immediately saw your writing on the bottom. “I like you too.” He lip synced your neatly written words. Shoving the note into his pocket, he gazed into your eyes with hopefulness. “can we leave?” You state, feeling like someone is watching you. He offered you a ride home which you gladly took, having already missed the public bus. 

You both talked the whole ride. Getting used to his voice. He took you to get some food. Throughout the ride, you both established that you’ll keep this relationship on the down low. Arriving at your home, you invited him in but he politely declined. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You leaned in the window and nodded with a smile. “Bye.” You flash one last smile before turning and walking to your front door. Putting in the passcode and entering the house. Walking into the kitchen you but your fast food bag on the island and took a sip of your drink as you dialed a frequent number. “Quinn. You will not believe what just happened.”

[mimisempai]

The beat of your heart soothes me to sleep

Summary

5 times where Loki falls asleep in Mobius' presence and once where Loki helps Mobius to fall asleep.

Answer to an anon prompt request on tumblr

"Loki falling asleep with Mobius around"

As always when it goes on this trope, I got carried away.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32649739

2597 words - Rating G

1.

As Mobius emerged from the shelves of the archives, deserted at this hour of the evening, his gaze fell on the tables, and one table in particular.

The table that reminded him of the first days of his meeting with Loki, and the very first time he had realized how much Loki trusted him.

They were both still in the taming phase at this point in their relationship, each gauging the other's reactions.

They were doing intensive research. Mobius, immersed in the files, had not noticed that Loki had become silent while a few minutes earlier he was commenting on every sentence of what he was looking for. He yawned and at that moment noticed something unimaginable, Loki had fallen asleep.

Moreover, it was not a light nap. From the sound of his steady breathing, it was a deep sleep.

For someone as suspicious as Loki, the fact that he slept in this way in the presence of someone was a miracle in Mobius' eyes.

To sleep in front of someone you barely know. How much trust does that take?

At that moment Mobius knew that something had changed, at least for him.

He didn't know at the time what the future would hold, but before waking him up, Mobius told himself that he would do everything in his power to preserve the trust that Loki seemed to have in him.

Whatever it takes.

He recalled the memory fondly as he stroked the table with one hand in passing, right where Loki had fallen asleep that day.

As he looked up to continue on his way, he was surprised to see Loki waiting for him on the doorstep. He wondered, blushing slightly, if Loki had seen his gesture and if he too remembered.

Mobius didn't have to wonder for long, Loki leaned over, kissed him on the cheek and simply said in his ear, "I remember, too." Then Loki straightened up, took Mobius' hand and added, "Come on love, let's go home."

2.

"Okay, tell me what are the top 3 laws to avoid breaking?"

Loki sitting at his desk, let out a deep sigh before protesting, "Mobiuus, I can't take it anymore, you've been making me repeat the laws and workings of the TVA for two hours."

Mobius replied firmly, "Even if you think you don't need them, it's important that you know them, you're going to be responsible for training recruits in the field and while I have no doubt about your teaching skills, you'll be a role model and as such you-"

"Do not disrupt the flow of time," Loki began to enumerate in a sullen voice.

Mobius smiled fondly and nodded approvingly as Loki continued, "Avoid time travel and do not contact people in the past to save them from their future."

Loki yawned ostensibly to show his annoyance.

"Perfect!" replied Mobius who walked away from the desk as he spoke, "Now we will review some of the punishable crimes by the TVA, such as time theft, time misconduct, or time jumps that can destabilize the continuity of space-time. What can you tell me about that last one, Loki?"

Silence answered him.

"Loki, stop being a child and answer," said Mobius in a slightly irritated tone.

Still no reaction. Mobius turned around and couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of his eyes.

Loki had fallen asleep, his head on his arms crossed on the desk.

Mobius approached and looked with tenderness at the black locks that had slid down his lover's face, the little puffs of air that came out of his mouth and made the sheets of paper in front of him tremble, but above all the look of complete surrender.

Mobius shook his head and looked around before finding what he was looking for. He went to grab a blanket folded on the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. He unfolded it and laid it gently on Loki's shoulders. He leaned over, placed a kiss on Loki's head and whispered in his ear, "I'll come back later..."

Loki answered with a groan under Mobius' amused look.

3.

"According to Hesiod, Eris is the daughter of Nyx and gives birth alone, like her mother, to many children, all evil. She is the relentless Discord, both companion and sister of the murderer Ares, who at first rises timidly, but soon touches the sky with her forehead and treads the earth with her feet. The most famous story of Eris tells that she started the Trojan War by provoking the Judgment of Paris. The goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite had been invited, along with the rest of Olympus, to the forced nuptials of Peleus and Thetis, who would become the parents of Achilles, but Eris had been dismissed because of her tendencies to cause trouble.So she gives birth to the worst calamities and seems to announce the apocalypse."

Mobius paused in his reading as he felt Loki fidgeting, shaking his head in Mobius' lap. They were enjoying what was probably one of Mobius' favorite activities since they had been living together.Loki lying on the couch, his head in Mobius' lap while Mobius read aloud, one hand in Loki's hair or in Loki's hand on his chest.

Loki, surprised to learn that Greek and Roman mythologies had many similarities with Norse mythology, had asked Mobius to read him the story of the goddess Eris, Loki's Greek equivalent.

"Of course, there's nothing good about my Greek equivalent!" snapped Loki. "Whatever our origin, we can only do evil."

Mobius grabbed Loki's chin to turn his face upward and said in a scolding tone, "Loki, I thought you knew by now that this was not the case. That you didn't have to live up to this destiny. After all this time, you still don't believe it? You still don't believe me?"

Loki sighed and took hold of the hand that held his chin and intertwined his fingers with it, "Of course I believe you, it's just hearing that, brings back memories that taste bitter."

Mobius leaned over, pressed a kiss to Loki's mouth and resumed reading. "I think you'll like the next part... Eris is also the one Zeus sends to awaken the fighting spirit of the warlords so that they will throw themselves into battle.She is therefore also the goddess of emulation.  Eris is a portal that opens to individual energies. It generates the pioneers, to move the collective energies. She unconsciously forces us to take a direction, to take a path."

"Hm you're right," Loki interrupted him, "I really like that. "Go on."

Mobius chuckled and continued, "Eris forces action, reaction.  Eris causes chaos to prepare the necessary future mutation. Eris is a trigger, a revealer. She participates in the tragedy of life."

"Hmmm..."

"Loki?"

Mobius felt Loki's head get heavier on his lap and Loki's hand clutching his own slowly loosened its grip. He leaned forward a little to see that Loki had fallen asleep. This was no longer a rare occurrence, but it never ceased to amaze Mobius as to its deeper meaning. He pulled the plaid that was at the end of the couch over Loki's legs, taking care not to wake him up, then resumed his reading.

"Eris turns our lives upside down, plunging us into chaos. If she spreads mischief through all, she also throws the trouble in oneself. It is to open a new way. A new life where we will never be the same again."

These last sentences made Mobius smile, because this is exactly what Loki had done in his life. He had opened a new life for Mobius that had changed him forever, for the better.

He closed the book carefully and put it on the armrest. Carding his fingers gently in Loki's hair, who purred in response, he let himself be lulled by the sweetness of the moment and fell asleep in turn.

4.

"I am exhausted, ex-haus-ted!" exclaimed Loki as he entered their apartment.

Mobius, busy preparing the meal, watched him enter the kitchen, smiling at his lover's antics as Loki continued to talk while undressing.

8 hours training new recruits in combat techniques combined with magic!  8 hours! Mobius you are the boss, you could do something!"

He had arrived in front of Mobius, planted a kiss on his lips before continuing to unbutton his shirt without giving him a chance to respond. "I'm going to shower and come eat, love."

Mobius followed him with his eyes and shook his head before returning to the dinner preparation.

Later, sitting at the table, they ate dinner and talked about their day. Loki was much calmer and more relaxed after showering.

Although the training had indeed exhausted him, Loki was nonetheless enthusiastic about his students' progress. But towards the end of the meal, as Mobius told an anecdote about one of his day's events, he saw that he was losing Loki's attention. His head was nodding as he visibly struggled against sleep.

"Loki, sweetheart, let me put the dishes away and you go to bed, I can see you're really exhausted," Mobius said in a gentle tone.

Loki didn't protest, got up and gave Mobius a gentle hug before saying, "Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve someone as caring as you."

To which Mobius replied, "Nothing, you're just you and I'm just me."

Loki smiled and gave him one last kiss before walking off to their room like a robot.

Mobius went to put the dishes away, turned off the lights and headed for their room. When he entered he was surprised to see Loki sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Loki?"

Receiving no answer, he walked over to find that Loki had fallen asleep like that. He must have really been exhausted.

"Loki, sweetheart, you should go to bed."

Loki groaned in response. Mobius laughed silently. He opened the sheets, gently helped Loki to lie down, carefully removed his sweatpants and T-shirt, Loki malleable as a disarticulated doll in his arms. The degree of trust and acceptance that Loki had in his arms was something new for Mobius every time. Something absolutely extraordinary.

Mobius laid down beside him, covered them both before taking Loki in his arms and after a tender kiss on his forehead, let himself be carried away by sleep.

5.

Loki knocked gently on Mobius' office door before poking his head through the doorway.

"Ready to go home?"

Mobius looked up from his work sheepishly and replied, "Loki, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to leave right away, I have some urgent reports due tomorrow, so I'll be staying late. It's not even worth waiting for me."

Loki didn't hold it against him, he walked over to him, took his face in his hands, kissed him gently before pretending to wipe the creases on Mobius' forehead with his fingers. "Don't worry like that, love, take as much time as you need. I'll leave you a piece of dinner in the fridge for when you get home."

"Thank you for being so understanding."

"You're welcome." replied Loki as he walked away.

Mobius followed him with a grateful smile on his lips before getting back to work.

Three hours later he walked through the door of their apartment, the living room was in darkness except for a small lamp lit near the armchair where Loki was sitting.

He gasped as he approached, Loki was sleeping, that was something he was used to, but what surprised him was that Loki was wearing one of his shirts. Mobius swallowed when he saw that he wasn't wearing any pants, just the shirt and his underwear, bare feet curled under him on the chair. He looked so vulnerable like that, that Mobius' throat tightened. Mobius crouched down in front of the chair and lightly placed his hand on Loki's bare knee so as not to startle him as he called softly, "Loki... Sweetheart... our bed is much more comfortable to sleep in."

Loki's eyes flickered before slowly opening, a smile lighting up his face when he saw Mobius.

"Mobius, you're finally home."

Mobius nodded, stood up and held out his hand to Loki, "Come on, the bed is more comfortable."

He accompanied him to their room, watched him go to bed before going to get ready for the night, also feeling exhausted.

A few moments later, he joined Loki in their bed. He lay on his back and Loki came closer, resting his head on his chest and wrapping his arm around his stomach.

"Loki..." Mobius had a question burning in his mind.

"Hm..."

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Loki cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, "I tried to fall asleep in our bed, but without you I couldn't, so I thought if I wore something of yours, maybe I could, but no, the bed is too big without you, so instead I waited for you in the living room, and finally fell asleep in the chair."

Mobius tightened his arm around Loki's shoulders and said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "you can go to sleep now, I'm here, sweetheart."

Loki snuggled up to him in approval and it wasn't long before Mobius felt the weighted head and steady breath against him, which in turn lulled Mobius into a deep sleep.

+1.

Mobius sat at the kitchen counter, clutching a cup of tea. He couldn't stop shivering.

It was the middle of the night,  it was half past two in the morning. He had been awakened by a nightmare and could not get back to sleep. He didn't want to wake Loki, so he came to the kitchen to try to calm down with a cup of tea.

The nightmares of Mobius were often the same, reminiscences of the lives that he had erased in the name of the previous TVA. It was often the conversation with Sylvie that came back to haunt him.

"All that time, I really believed we were the good guys."

"Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls, classic hero stuff."

Of course Mobius had never thought of himself as a hero, but he thought he was doing good and now realized how blind he had been.

And it was hard because there was no way to make amends, no way to redeem himself, because most of the people he had taken had ended up in the void and had not survived Alioth. At night Mobius could not think beyond the throbbing pain of guilt.

Suddenly, hands rested gently on his shoulders.

"Mobius? Are you okay?"

Then without waiting for an answer the hands slid forward and Mobius found himself with Loki's chest pressed against his back and Loki's chin resting on his head.

"I had another nightmare," he whispered, hoarse and vulnerable. Loki hummed, moved back and gently rubbed the back of Mobius' neck..

"Come back to bed with me," Loki's voice was warm and sleepy. Loving. Soothing. He took the cup from Mobius, discarding the now cold tea and rinsing the cup, before taking Mobius' hands and dragging him towards their room. Loki made him lie down before tightening his arms and legs around Mobius who in turn tightened his arms around Loki.

"Thank you," he whispered into Loki's soft hair.

Loki simply tightened his arms around him, and said softly, "Sleep my love, I am here, this time I am the one protecting you."

Mobius fell asleep, a dreamless sleep, only aware of Loki's presence shielding him from the world and from himself.

Beloved.

________

Whole series of one shot here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[hockeyboysiguess]

Jerseys and Dumplings

a/n: some good old friends to lovers Tkachuk for your Thursday!

warnings: swearing

word count: 6.3K

You yanked the restaurant door open harder than you’d meant to, but you were in a rush. A last minute assignment had kept you at work later than you’d planned, much later than you’d planned, and you were running later than would ever be considered fashionably late by anyone who made insane amounts of money to recite a bunch of shitty dialogue to a camera. You pulled at the bottom of your skirt to adjust it as you walked through the door before giving up. Your skirt was definitely crooked, your hair was definitely a mess, but your mother’s words played over in your head, “It’s never the job of a successful, powerful to look a particular way. Success is messy. Own the messy.”

“Hi, sorry,” you whisper-yelled to the hostess. “Uh, Hanifin? Pretty sure everyone else is already here.”

“Right this way.”

She was clearly unimpressed with your disheveled appearance and your tardiness as she looked you over from top to bottom from over the top of her glasses. You pushed thoughts of her and work out of your head to focus the evening. Meeting your best friend’s boyfriend was a hit-miss experience with Tessa as your best friend. She alternated between introducing you to immature, outrageous guys who were all about having a good time who always ended up cheating on her or guys who were basically the human equivalent of a completely dried builder-grade beige wall. This one was apparently some moderately famous hockey player, which automatically had you leaning him in the first column, but she pleaded with you to reserve judgment until you met him tonight. You were desperate for her to finally date a guy that was somewhere on the middle of her two extremes. She always countered by saying she wanted you to go on a date, any date. You brushed her off every time, telling her you were focusing on your career and yourself.

“There you are!” Tessa shouted, bumping the table harshly as she stood up to great you. “I started to think you forgot about us.”

“Sorry, babes,” you sighed as you let her pull you in for a quick hug. “I-”

“Got caught up at the office.”

You pulled back from her and glared at her. Tessa saying the words that all too frequently left your lips was just a little passive aggressive, usually your specialty. You rolled your eyes at her and she giggled before reaching out to the guy next to her to pull him to his feet.

“This,” she wrapped her hands around his forearm in a sort of death grip, “is Noah. Noah, this is the ever-discussed best friend slash somehow roommate even though I see her more out to lunch than I do in our apartment.”

“Thanks, Tess,” you mumbled. Noah offered his arms out to you gingerly and you accepted a soft hug. “Nice to meet you, Noah.”

“Really nice to finally meet you,” he smiled softly as you took your seats.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind.” The sing-song tone in Tessa’s voice drew a groan from you because you knew what was going to come next. “Stop it! Anyway, Noah brought one of his teammates along, so you weren’t third wheeling.”

“Is he invisible?” you asked with a wave of your hand to the empty seat next to you.

“Just in the bathroom, actually.”

You turned your head and were greeted with a bright, toothy grin and mop of curly hair. The restaurant was dark, but you could tell he had a beautiful pair of baby blues to go with his dimples and sharp jawline. Tessa has clearly hand-picked this one out of the Flames line up for you. He was exactly your type. You watched as his light eyes broke contact with yours and gave you a quick once look over, lingering almost indiscernibly at your chest and your hips.

“I’m Matthew,” he said, his smile starting on a slippery slope to a smirk as he sat down next to you.

You debated calling him out for checking you out, but Tessa rapped her foot on your shin, letting you know she was ready and waiting to give you a swift kick if she didn’t like how you were acting. People thought Tessa was soft. You thought people shouldn’t underestimate Tessa, so you swallowed your comeback and introduced yourself instead. Matthew gave you a quick nod, his broken curls bouncing with the sudden movement. A smile began to pull at the corners of your lips against your will and something in your chest told you he was going to be trouble if you let him be, so you resolved not to let him be. You watched his attention shift to the couple across the table and his face scrunch up in disgust. Noah and Tessa were seeming trying to figure out if it was possible for two people to become one via their open mouths pressed against each other.

“Come on, guys,” Matthew whined as one of his hands came down roughly on the tabletop, causing the silverware to click together loudly. Noah and Tessa separated at the sound, not at Matthew’s words. “The single folks don’t even have drinks yet. Can you save the foreplay until we at least have some alcohol in us?” 

“Seriously,” you joined in. If Tessa was going to set you up against your will, at least it was with someone that hated Tessa’s fondness for wild amounts of PDA as much as you did. “Please keep all tongues, hands, and arms in your own seats tonight.”

“Genitals should remain their not upright and locked positions” Matthew added. Tess blushed at his words, causing Matthew to turn his head towards you. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Too much?” 

You answered by continuing, “Excellent addition, fellow date attendant. Fasten your seatbelts as we expect there might be some turbulence on tonight’s date.” 

“Turbulence?” Tessa asked, her voice a solid octave and a half higher than normal and her eyebrows raised, daring you to continue. 

“Oh yes, turbulence,” Matthew cut in. “So, Tessa, where did you grow up?”

“I’m sorry, I’m back on turbulence,” Noah jumped in verbally and physically, a hand raised across the table. 

“We,” you informed him, gesturing between Matthew and yourself, “are the turbulence.”

“Yes, thank you, good blind date I didn’t ask for,” Matthew nodded to you, curling bouncing again in a way that made you have to bite your lip to avoid smiling like a schoolgirl with a new crush. “You both worked together to set us up tonight, unasked for based on just how fed up my fellow date attendant seemed by my very presence. Esteemed co-worker, can you confirm, for the record, that you did not ask for this set up and that you’re just as tired as I am of your friends across the table setting you up with people?” 

Matthew grabbed a breadstick from the basket in one fist and presented it to you like a microphone. You laughed softly, making an out of character smile crack across Matthew’s face before you both pulled yourself back into the accidental routine you’d created. 

“Yes, yes, Matthew. I can confirm I was not made aware of your presence tonight and I have not asked Tessa to set me up with anyone at this time,” you replied seriously, putting on your best politician impression. 

“You sounded like you were doing an impression of Tina Fey doing her Sarah Palin impression from SNL,” Matthew laughed at you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he turned his attention to your friends who had no idea what monster they’d created tonight. “As my good colleague Sarah Palin just said, neither one of us asked to be here. So now, we’re teaming up to see if we really approve of this union or not. So, I repeat. Tessa, where are you from?” 

The evening was filled with you and Matthew teaming up to flip the script on your friends. You grilled Noah, with Matt’s support, and you offered some direction to his probing questions for Tessa. They took in stride though and you realized somehow, some way beyond your understanding, Tessa had fallen into a good relationship for the first time since you knew her. 

Just after making a two-bite dent into your incredible dessert, Tessa pulled you to the bathroom with her, the classic story of girls never being able to pee alone floating at the excuse. When you left the stall, you were greeted by Tessa, arms across her chest, one foot tapping on the ground, and wry smile on her face. 

“So, things seem to be going well with Matthew,” she said with a smirk and a soft nod. “Figured it would be sink or swim but didn’t think it would go quite this.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned as you turned on the water for the sink to start scrubbing your hands, “we’re just being friendly.”

“Are you kidding me?” she practically shouts at you. “He literally has not taken his eyes off you once all night. He’s so into you!”

“Tess, stop,” you told her with a sigh as you shut off the water. You grabbed a couple of paper towels before spinning on your heels to face her. “Seriously, Tess, he’s not into me. We’re just getting along as friends, okay? Be happy this didn’t blow up in your face for the first time.” 

“You cannot be serious right now,” Tessa whined. She reached for your arm as you tossed the paper towels away, pulling your attention back to her. She bounced on her heels a little and gave you the most frustrated look she could muster. “He is into you. Noah thinks so too. Just, can you just try? For me?” 

“I don’t want a relationship, Tess,” you replied curtly. “Why can’t you just accept that?” 

“He’s perfect for you!” Her frustration with you was growing with each word that she had to say as she tried to spell it out for you. “He’s your type. I know I nailed that one. I know you have to think he’s attractive, so you can’t lie to me. You have really similar senses of humor. He totally thinks you’re hot, which you are. Don’t you dare, that’s not up for debate. Come on, babes. Give Chucky a chance.” 

“Chucky is a murderous doll,” you retorted, skipping over everything else she’d said. “Look, Tess, can’t you just be happy I might have made a friend tonight? That’s growth for me right there.”

“But he wants to be your special friend!” she insisted, bouncing on her heels again. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image presented by her bouncing and her words. She was channeling herself at age six for sure, an age you didn’t know Tessa at, but from the stories her brothers and mother told you, you were kind of happy you didn’t know her at. 

“Jesus, did you just say that?” you got out between laughs. You sighed as you pulled yourself together. It was time you both escaped the bathroom as the boys were bound to get suspicious soon. “Look, I’m just not really in the sort of place to put myself out there at all right now. If Matthew really does want this and he really does try, I’ll think about it for real, okay? Does that work for you?” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes before saying, “I mean, no, it doesn’t because he would totally give you the good dick right here in this bathroom and probably buy you brunch tomorrow if you actually showed the tiniest bit of actual interest in him, but, it’s the best you’re going to give me, so it’s fine.” 

Your desire to leave the bathroom and get back to your chocolate cake overwhelmed the desire to correct Tess. You pulled her back to the table with you, collapsing into your seat and immediately diving back into the dessert you’d been hearing call your name since you’d left the table five minutes ago.

“You’re murdering that cake,” Matthew noted. “It’s impressive, honestly. Where does the cake go?” 

“Hopefully out my pores tomorrow in the stupid hot yoga class Tess is dragging me too,” you replied, halting another bite on its way to your mouth just to answer. “I wanted to watch Love is Blind and Too Hot to Handle as our new best friend activity for the month. Tessa wants to do hot yoga, so we’re doing hot yoga.” 

“So, you’re the boyfriend in this relationship?” Matthew joked, gesturing between you. 

You dropped your fork to your plate and reached for your almost empty drink instead before replying, “Gender roles are a completely unnecessary societal standard, Matthew, and they do not need to be enforced by heteronormative men who play an incredibly heteronormative sport. Who is the boyfriend and who is the girlfriend is unnecessarily gendered, especially considering I’m clearly the left chopstick and Tessa is the right. ” 

Matthew’s nose scrunched up when he laughed, a sight you were quickly growing used to over the evening, maybe even starting to like. He shook his head softly at you as he took a sip from his glass. 

“Says the girl who pitched to watch a bunch of trash Netflix dating reality shows that are all pretty heteronormative, right?” Matthew countered with a nod of his glass to you. 

“Garbage is not heteronormative,” you replied. “Trash TV is just trash TV, Matthew. Don’t read too much into it. I still haven’t gotten to watch any of it though.” 

“If you need someone to watch with, hit me up,” he told you. “I need an excuse to get drunk on a Wednesday night and sounds like it I would need to be incredibly drunk to watch any of that.” 

“So, this Wednesday then?”

—————

Standing in front of Matthew’s apartment door with a wide variety from your favorite Chinese takeout place in one hand and a six-pack from your favorite local brewery five days later, you were beginning to regret the life choices that led you to this particular moment. You didn’t have much time for the regret to sink in though before Matthew opened the door. 

“If there is something the resembles a dumpling in that bag, I will be your servant for the rest of your life,” was Matthew’s verbal greeting.

“You’re about to be my servant then, but it’ll be worth it. These are the best dumplings I’ve ever had,” you informed him as you pushed past him into his apartment to drop the bags and beer on the counter. You started pulling containers out of the bags as you continued, “I will say you should never Google this place. I’ve only ever ordered via Grubhub delivery before today. I did pick up and this place honestly looks like the architect was drunk and the builders forgot their glasses for the entire build and I’ve never been more horrified, but the dumplings are killer, so I’ve just decided to put it in a box and try to forget I ever saw where they originated.”

You heard a beer crack open beside you and Matthew’s large hand came into view as he set it in front of you. He was close to you, closer than you had thought he would be. You could feel his tall frame behind you, his loose t-shirt brushing against you as he set the beer by your hand. His arms brushed your softly, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Good brewery pick,” he complimented you, his lips near your ear as he spoke. “Also, if you give me food poisoning from your weird Chinese food place, I’m released from my servitude.”

“You know the word servitude?” you countered, trying to pull your mind out of the gutter it was sliding headfirst down with sarcasm and chirping him.

Matthew laughed lightly and shifted himself closer to you. He leaned into you, his chest gentling coming into contact with your back with each breath you took. His large hands gripped the edge of the counter on either side of you. He towered over you and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to let him bend you over this counter right here and now.

“Mm, I know a lot of things that might surprise you,” Matthew laughed in your ear.

He pulled back without warning and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Matthew shifted over to the opposite side of the counter, grabbing a beer and popping it open on his journey. He didn’t say another word before turning on his heels and heading toward the couch. Your brows furrowed as thoughts began to swirl and bleed together in your mind. Was that just all in your mind or was that nothing that your mind turned into something? You didn’t have time for something like this. The fact that you’d found time to have dinner with Matthew within two weeks of meeting him astounding given your inconsistent hours and his season. No, you didn’t want him to be flirting with you, you decided, so he wasn’t. You came over looking for a friend, so that’s what you were here for, the only thing you were here for.

“Hope you can use chopsticks,” you told him as you sat an overly full plate of food in front of him a few minutes later.

“I play hockey. I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he threw back at you, a joking smile on his lips.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed with a roll of your eyes.

Matthew tossed the remote as you with his free hand as he brought a dumpling to his mouth with the other, dropping the entire thing into his mouth in one go. You watched his eyes go wide as he bit down for the first time. He looked at you in disbelief as he chewed.

“Holy fuck me,” he told you through a full mouth. “I want to marry whoever made this.”

“Now,” you open Netflix on his TV, “you get me, Tkachuk.”

Matthew had already shoved another one in his mouth by the time Netflix loaded the first episode. Matthew was in food heaven, shoving dumpling after dumpling into his mouth. You laughed a little as his stuffed cheeks. He looked like a curly-headed chipmunk and you told him just that as you grabbed another container of dumplings out of the bag on the counter. He almost chirped you back, but when you dropped a full container in his lap, the chirp died before it had even fully formed.

“I think you’ve ruined dumplings for me from everywhere else in the world. Also, is that guy hot? I feel like they’re just trying to convince us he’s hot when he’s not.”

You were amazed he was able to pay any attention to the show with the speed at which he was consuming food. It was equal parts impressive and disgusting.

“He’s alright,” you shrugged as you reached for your beer. “Not my type. You’d be better off asking Tessa.”

Something you’d said finally beat out the interest of the dumplings. Matthew dropped the container to the table and skewered a dumpling with his chopsticks in exchange for a beer and turning his attention to him. He raised an eyebrow at you before he spoke.

“A type, huh? I wouldn’t happened to fit that type, would I?”

He took a sip as he watched you roll your eyes at him. He chuckled a little against the edge of his bottle at your response.

“Why would you think you would?” you countered, barely pulling yourself together in time to say something within an acceptable response time.

Matthew shrugged casually before replying, “Noah asked me specifically to come the other night and after meeting Tessa, I have a hard time believing she let Noah pick whoever he wanted since that was definitely a set up and blah, blah, blah, so I’m definitely your type, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed as you took a sip of your beer to try and disguise the anxiety his question had brought on. “My type is definitely guys who are obsessed with trying to be my type. It’s so sexy how much you need my validation right now.”

Matthew’s head fell back as he laughed, curls shifting back in tandem. His mouth opened wide as he laughed a full belly laugh at your words. One of his hands came to his stomach as his laughs became breathier and he slowly brought himself back down.

“You’re something else,” Matthew mumbled through a smile, beer on its way back to his lips and soft shake of his head with his words.

“I’m a goddamn goddess and you know it,” was all you had to say to get him laughing again.

—————

“Let’s fucking go, Calgary!” Tessa screamed next to you out of the blue, jumping to her feet as she shouted, making you and several other people around you jump a little in their seats.

“Jesus,” you sighed. “Tess, can you take it down a notch or eighteen, please?”

“It’s the Battle of Alberta, baby!” she shouted in response, a wide drunken grin on her face as she retook her seat next to you with a flop.

The referee blew the whistle, stopping play, and you pulled your attention back to the game with a soft smile on your face. You looked down the ice to see someone wearing a red and black jersey tangled up with a white and blue one. You craned you’re neck to try and see who it was, your breath catching in your throat at the idea it as Matthew. Your eyes were flying back and forth between the ice and the screen, trying to see a number or part of name to figure out if it was him or not. Your racing thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the glass in front of you. You were greeted with a smile that was slowly becoming more and more familiar, just with a mouth guard hanging between his teeth, and some curls peeking out from under a helmet.

Matthew waved at you with two gloved hands, his light blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You were relieved he was standing in front of you, a goofy smile on his face, rather than down the ice in that fight. At least the linesman has managed to break it up by now. Matthew’s eyes broke contact from you to give you a once over. He pinched his jersey between his gloved fingers and his eyebrows furrowed down as he looked at you

“Where’s your jersey?” he shouted, though you had to read his lips to actually understand him

You just put your hands out next to you, palms up, and shrugged with a slight pout sticking out your bottom lip. You didn’t own any Flames gear of any kind, certainly not the Tkachuk jersey he was probably looking for. He shook his head at you and glared a little, just to get a small laugh out of you, before he turned his attention back to the game.

“Look at your guy!” Tessa said way too loudly for how tender she’d said it, hands stacked over her heart. “He likes you so much.”

“We are just friends,” you countered firmly, which made Tessa frown.

“He likes you! Aren’t you going over to his place after the game? You should make a move,” she nudged you in the ribs with her elbow.

“I’m picking up exactly four containers of dumplings and we’re watching exactly two episodes of Love is Blind because we’re going to finish up the episodes before they go on vacation with their new fiancés, okay?” you told her. “That’s not exactly a hot date. Besides, I don’t want to make a move. I like him, as a friend.”

“Okay, whatever,” Tessa rolled her eyes at you. “You keep denying that I set you up with a good one until you can’t anymore. Chucky is so smitten with you, he’ll probably wait for you for a ridiculously long time, like rom-com style long time, babes.”

—————

It was your new routine. Well, it wasn’t regular enough to really be a routine. Matthew would text you when he felt like he hadn’t seen you recently enough and demand you show up that same day with dumplings and your sparkling personality. You had tried to deny him, push him off a day or two due to work, but he might be the only person you’d ever met more stubborn that you were. Over garbage television shows and Chinese food, you’d made an actual friend out of him and despite Tessa’s insisting that both of you wanted more.

“Oh, suck it!” Tessa shouted as the Bruins pulled out a last-minute OT goal against Edmonton. She hated the Bruins, but you were pretty sure the only thing Tessa hated more than your insistence that you didn’t want to date Matthew was Edmonton.

You sighed, realizing you’d lost the bet you’d made with her, even though you picked that Edmonton would win to piss her off. She was shouting and jumping up and down, trying to rub her win in your face, but a text cropping up on your phone was pulling your attention.

Tkachuk: pls get five orders of dumplings and bring them right over

You: worked hard today huh?

Tkachuk: you know I fucking did. See you in 30?

You smiled softly, catching Tessa’s attention in the middle of her winning tirade.

“Is that Chucky?” She was already leaning over you, trying to get a glimpse of your phone screen. “Are you ditching me for him again this evening?”

You glared up at her and tilted your phone back, hiding the screen from her view. She stated to glare back, but then her face softened as the corners of her mouth started to pull up. You caught a mischievous glint in her eyes start to form she spoke.

“Hey, the bet was that I get to pick your outfit next time you go out, right?” Tessa asked hesitantly.

“I mean, yeah, but your face is scaring me a little bit here,” you replied, concern for yourself dripping off each word.

“And out could just mean when you go to see Chucky in a few minutes, right?” Her excitement was beginning to leak out, but you couldn’t understand why. “Because since you’re leaving, that’s going out, right?”

“I mean, I guess- Tess, what are you getting at here?”

Tessa didn’t reply. She ran out of the living room, cursing as she banged her elbow on the corner as she turned into the hallway. You heard some rustling in her room, followed by another curse, before she came bounding back into the living room. She tossed something red at you, a borderline evil smile on her face as she did so. You grabbed the red garment. As soon as your fingers touched it, you had an idea of what it was based on the fabric and you groaned as you flipped the garment in your hands. You were greeted with Tkachuk in large bold letters when you looked at the back of the jersey.

“I’m not wearing that to Matthew’s apartment,” you whined, letting the jersey fall into your lap.

“Ah, yes you are. You lost the bet. You wear what I let you to wear,” she told you, waving off your complaints. “Besides, Chucky gave it to Noah to give to me to make sure you wore it to next game anyway. We’re just getting you in it earlier than he had in mind, that’s all.”

You sighed as you stood up to head to your room where you exchanged your comfortable, worn in sweatshirt for the new, crisp jersey. When the red fabric finally hung off your body, you turned and let out a groan when you saw his last name on your back. You knew he wasn’t going to let you live it down the entire time you were with him, but Tessa’s wrath was worse than Matthew’s chirping would ever be.

Tessa was laughing as soon as she caught site of the red fabric, but you didn’t give her much time to feel satisfied with her handiwork. You grabbed your wallet, keys, and phone and headed out the front door. You paused as you sat in the driver’s seat of your car. Tessa had said Matthew wanted you to have the jersey to wear to the next game you went to, but why was he insistent enough to get Noah to give Tessa one of his jerseys? Why didn’t he just give it to you himself? 

You tried to analyze the gesture as you waited in line at the restaurant. You’d taken to just coming in for pick up since you’d been unsuccessful in forgetting just how terrifying seeing this place for the first time was. You never called ahead anymore. You just showed up and the chef knew to start making dumplings for you. They were ready when you got to the counter to order, so you paid, grabbed your food, and returned to your car quickly. You decided the gesture was probably nothing, just Matthew being odd per usual, and tried to force the thought out of your mind as you drove over to his place. 

The thought hung around as you parked in his spare parking spot. The parking pass had gone from being loaned out to every guest to living in your car after the fifth dumpling and trash television visit. He said you were his most regular visitor and he was tired of having to leave to put it in your car for you since you always argued that you’d brought him food, so it was the least he could do. Your mind was racing, trying to figure out if all of it added up to something, or if you were adding up things that didn’t really exist to get to an answer that definitely didn’t. 

You only got one knock in before Matthew opened the door. He moaned when he saw the bag in your arms. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, his eyes trained on the brown paper bag his hands were reaching for the entire time he spoke like a prayer had been answered.

You laughed at him and let him take the bag from your arms before following him inside. He dropped the bag on the counter and began grabbing containers and chopsticks while you kicked off your shoes. You let out a long sigh as you prepared yourself for the chirps that were bound to come when you took your coat off and the jersey was finally in his line of site. You chewed your bottom lip between your teeth as you spun around to face him. 

Matthew was frozen in place, a partially opened to-go container on the counter in front of him and chopsticks about to be ripped apart in his hands. His eyes were trained on the flaming logo on the front. 

“Tessa made me wear it,” you admitted quickly. “I lost a bet and she made me wear it.”

Matthew slowly put the chopsticks down and one of his hands came up to his mouth. His hand was on his chin, thumb crossing his lips as he shifted his weight to his other hand braced against the counter’s edge. His light eyes were darker than you were used to as they scanned up and down your body. They came to rest on the number partially visible on the shoulder. He moved his hand from his face to hovering in front of him with his index finger outstretched. Slowly, his index finger began to make small circles as he looked at you. 

“Oh, you’re rubbing this in now,” you huffed, hands going to your hips. 

Matthew just shook his head softly before he swallowed hard, then said one word, “Spin.” 

You sighed, knowing he wanted the full picture for future ammunition, but you wouldn’t get to enjoy your food until you gave him what he asked you. You slowly let your feet shift across the floor, moving you in a gentle circle, giving Matthew a perfect view of his last name across your back. You closed your eyes as you reached the point in your circling where you’d have to see him again. You didn’t need to see the smug look on his face. 

You heard Matthew sigh and you knew whatever he was about to say next was going to be brutal. Instead, all you heard was his feet shuffling quickly across the floor before you felt his hands on you, pressing you back against the nearest wall. Your eyes flung open when you made rough contact with the wall. Before you could fully process it, Matthew’s head dipped down and his mouth was on yours. You almost pulled back, but he was kissing you in a way that took your breath away. You couldn’t not fall into the moment with your palms coming to rest on his chest, but you needed some sort of explanation and you weren’t even sure if this was really what you wanted, so you pushed gently on his chest and he instantly separated from you.

“What the fuck?” you breathed out at him as you lifted your eyes to look at him. 

He was towering over you, his arms boxing you in on either side of your head. His eyes were even darker than they had been and while you could usually read Matthew like open book, you couldn’t recognize the expression on his face. 

“I can’t be your friend if you’re going to look this fucking good with my last name on your back,” he told you. His words were so matter of fact, as if it was the most obvious thing the world. “You have absolutely no idea how bad I want you right now.” 

“Matthew,” you said between deep breaths, “I don’t know.” 

“You know,” he said, his baby blue eyes locking your gaze on him. “You know you know. You’ve known since that first dinner. Tessa knew too. Hell, even Noah knew, and you know how fucking thick he is. We’re not supposed to be just friends. You,” he sucked in a breath through his teeth when he broke eye contact to look down at the jersey while balling some of the red fabric in his hands, “you are too perfect for me to be my friend. God, it’s like someone took everything I ever wanted and put it all in one perfect, stupidly sexy girl, except that someone made her fucking oblivious to her own feelings.”

Matthew let out a soft laugh and shook his head as he released the fabric from his hands. His eyes rolled up to lock with yours again. 

“You can’t stand her and tell me that kiss wasn’t different,” he continued. “stop being so fucking thick for two seconds and you’ll really feel it. I know you feel it. Because if somehow, I feel this goddamn strongly about someone, and they don’t feel a single ounce of something for me, then I must have really fucked up in my past life and deserve to have the perfect girl right between my fingers and feel her break my heart instead. Like, fuck, you know this is different, that this is something that stupid kinds of special. Just let yourself feel it. Let me in, baby. I’m right here. You’re not gonna fall. Nothing is going to break. I’m right here. I’ve got you, if you want me to.” 

Matthew was wrong. You felt the walls you built to keep you from having to put yourself out there, from having to risk anything, start to crack under Matthew’s gaze. His eyes started bouncing from feature to feature on your face, trying to figure out what was going on in your mind since you hadn’t said a word yet. When his baby blues met yours again, the walls broke, and you felt everything. You felt everything he said and somehow, so much more. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked his mouth down to yours. He kissed you back instantly, his hands reaching down to the backs of your thighs to pull you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands moved to your torso, yanking at his new favorite piece of clothing you owned to get under it and feel your skin under his palms. 

You broke the kiss to breathe. His mouth moved to your neck as you tangled your fingers in his curls. 

“I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to wear this while I do it,” Matthew breathed out against your neck with a faint tug of the jersey, “if that’s alright with you.”

“Little aggressive,” you told him with a tug of his curls. Matthew pulled you away from the wall, switching to support your weight so he could start walking you towards his room.

“Oh, shut up, would you?” Matthew laughed against your skin. “If you actually have objections, fine, but the peanut gallery is closed for anything other than curse words and my name for the next few hours, okay?” 

“Whatever you say, Tkachuk.” 

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (11)

new chapter at the behest of one of my patrons! hope you enjoy! >:)

warnings: terrible coping mechanisms, antagonistic but not "evil" deceit, semi-vivid panic attack, suicidal implications/thoughts, arguing, an antagonistic and also genuinely evil cliffhanger, take care for realsies

-

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side.

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways.  

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash.

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once.

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?”

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either.

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out your key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown.

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric.

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair.

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.”

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool.

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.”

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan.

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded.

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind now, Roman?”  

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes.

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to grow!”

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is, why is this happening to us all of the sudden? It’s certainly not something we’ve had to deal with before.”

There was a terse silence.  

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.”

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?”

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.”

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug.

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!”

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if his host recognized him?

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.”

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.”  

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!”

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman.

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba.

Right in front of his host’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.”  

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?”

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most.

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his host’s face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him.

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, his host was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need.

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his host’s chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why.

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.”

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!”

No, no no no. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come.

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless--

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?”

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit.

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that liar daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.”

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about himself and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off.

“Like I care about your newest pet project,” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.”

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?”

“Not just some way. All the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.”

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes.

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…”

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.”

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?”

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!”

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained.

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.”

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s Anxiety.”

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?”

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.”  

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out.

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye.

-

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated.

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.”

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for your plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come home.”

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.”

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming.

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.”

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs.

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go?

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense.

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the solution remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent.

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap.

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously.

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows.

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken.

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred.

Then, there was only Puff.

[genaleah]

ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible. 

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that. 

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually. 

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done. 

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess?  🤔  I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc.  It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere.  Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM  Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with. 

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite. 

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join: 

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

[spooky-raccoon]

Road Trip (Part 13)

Part 13 of Road Trip

Rufo X Female Reader

Bold is Rufo’s perspective

Tag List: @chii2blog​ @the-clown-crypt​ @booklover2929​

        I don’t even know when I fell asleep that night, but I woke up to a knock on the door before Albert let himself in with two cups of coffee.  One for himself and I assumed one for me.  He was already dressed for the day and looked put together as usual.  I suppose I was too, but I could deal with a shower and a change though that could be later. I got up carefully from the bed, giving a slight nod to Albert as I took the extra cup of coffee from him.  He nodded his head to the side, and I followed with him into the hallway.

       “Sleep well?”  Albert sipped at his coffee, one hand slipping into his pocket.

        “Could be better.”  All I could do was shrug as I shut the door behind us.  A little harder than I meant to.  I knew the sound wouldn’t bother her, but it was still rude.

        “I want you to get out and get some fresh air.  Being cooped up and stressed the way you are isn’t going to do you or her any good.  I have a list of supplies you can get for me in town that should be helpful.”

        “Yeah, yeah, sure.”  Truth be told, he was probably right.  Getting out and some fresh air would be good.  I just didn’t want to leave her there in bed all alone.  I knew Albert would be there, but it didn’t feel the same. “Let me get her showered and something in her and I’ll go for you, Albert.”

       “Good, good.  I already made breakfast for the two of you.  You know where to find it when you’re done cleaning up.”  He had a soft smile, a sympathetic one.  It’s one I never saw often.  Only one other time when my great nieces body had to be brought to him.  But that’s a different story.

       “Thanks, Albert.  I appreciate it and I’m sure she does too.”  I gave him a smile back.  A weak one, but a smile, nonetheless.

        When my cup of coffee was done I slipped (Y/N) out of bed and carried her into the bathroom.  Albert already had a set of clothes out for the both of us on the counter.  I couldn’t help but chuckle as I got her undressed while the shower warmed up.  He was always a pretty good host when he wanted to be.  It was pretty easy getting her in and washing her up never took long.  The only thing I took my time for was holding her close.  My arms were around her waist and I leaned her head down on my shoulder. The last shower we had together she held me back and right now, that’s all I wanted.  I help her tighter as I let myself let loose a few tears.  I’m not usually a man who cries.  I tend to get more angry than anything and wreck things in my way as I try to calm down.  Or take my anger out on something a bit more fleshy.  But sometimes you just need to cry now and then.

       When she was dried and dressed I carried her to the kitchen so I could get some food in her belly.  Albert had made a large breakfast of pancakes, bacon, biscuits and of course some more coffee.  She took the food like a champ like always.  When we were both done I got her settled back into bed.  Truth be told, I didn’t want to leave her side.  I didn’t want anything to happen while I was gone and not be there for her.  She was in good hands with Albert around though.  That didn’t stop me from taking my time though.  Yet when I could feel his stare as I was tucking her back in I knew I had to wrap it up.  With a soft peck to her cheek, I left the room and Albert handed me a list of what to get him.  With that I was off.

       The town was small, but I still insisted on taking the car.  I gave the excuse of being able to listen to some tunes in my time that I drove around to the various shops, fetching and checking off each item on the list.  I had everything on the list within twenty minutes.  With some spare time I popped into one of the few antique stores, looking for something for (Y/N).  Among some jewelry, I found a locket.  The little label said silver and it had filigree detail surrounding a pale aquamarine stone.  Almost reminded me of my eyes.  I decided to get it for her as a little ‘Welcome Back' gift.  As I was leaving that’s when I ran into Crowley.

       “Ah, there you are.  I was about to stop at Albert’s to check in on the patient.”  Crowley didn’t have much of a smile going but I could see hints of it at the corners of his mouth.

      “She’s resting.  About in the same boat when you last saw her.  Albert has an idea though.”  

       “Good, good.  At least she seems to be steady.  I’ll leave you to it than, Rufo.  Next time, tell me any updates you have.”  Crowley gave me a slight nod and went to turn to walk away.  Something had been irking me though ever since I last saw him.

       “Crowley.”  He stopped and turned his head to look at me.  “Why did you help me as much as you did?  You could have taken me right out there, but you didn’t.”

       “You know my rules Rufo.  I help those who ask for it.”

       “I didn’t ask for it though.”

       “No, but she did.”  

       With that, Crowley continued on his stroll, leaving me standing in confusion. Had she said please when she was screaming? I could barely remember anything, just the string of emotions that fogged me at the time.  I was yelling out my own pleas and woes at the time so I may have missed it.  Either way, now she was in good hands and things would be taken care of then I could get her back on her way to her life.

        There were some light gray clouds up in the sky and it was starting to drizzle outside once I made it back to Albert’s.  He greeted me at the door and took the bags from me except the small paper bag with the small box from the antique shop.  Albert went his own way into his office, and I slipped into the guest room.  She was still laying there and when I got closer I saw that her eyes were closed. I assumed she was resting or the equivalent of it as I set the box containing the necklace on the nightstand. Sitting on the edge of the bed I gently ran my fingers on the side of her face, just to brush some hair to the side and get it tucked behind her ear.  Her skin was still cold and clammy despite the blankets that I placed over her.  A solemn smile lifted at the corner of my lips as I watched her for just a moment.  For a moment it seemed like she was just taking a nap and not like a lifeless doll.  Just a moment though.

       Her eyes suddenly opened up, but they weren’t their usual color. No, they were pure white.  The blanket flung off her without even her touching it and she was starting to flail on the bed.  For a brief moment there was probably a look of panic on my face as I dove to get her pinned down to the bed. My next thought was to yell out to Albert to get his happy ass in the damn room.  I had to wrap my limbs around hers to trap her from hurting herself and getting tangled up in anything.  

       “Doll!  If you can hear me you gotta calm down!”  She was thrashing harder than I expected and I didn’t want to grab her too tight; worried I may end up breaking a bone or two.  But maybe that’d be better at this point.  Her mouth started to open, and I could see something faintly glow. “Albert get your damn ass in here right now!  She wants to put on a fucking light show for us!”  

       I grabbed the bottom of her jaw with one hand and with the top of my head with the other, I forced her mouth closed.  As I did, Albert burst into the room with a bottle of whatever the fuck strange concoctions he has on hand.  Albert got to work, popping open the bottle and dipping his finger into the liquid then wiped it across her forehead.  All the while, mumbling weird words that I couldn’t understand and probably didn’t want to.  Her thrashing got more wild for just a moment before she suddenly stopped; her body going limp in my hold.  After making sure she fully stopped I carefully took my hands away.  I tilted her head back ever so slightly so her mouth would open to get a peek inside.  No strange light.  I checked her pulse and her breathing which was all back to what it had been before.

       “That was a close call, Cecil.  She’s been more affected than I realized.”  Albert said with a sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed after the bottle he had was plugged up.  “Good news is at least I have almost everything ready.  Give me ‘til tomorrow and we can get her back to normal.”

      “Good, because I don’t think she can do that again.”  I gingerly ran my fingers through her hair, tucking some behind her ears once more as she laid there.  She looked more tired than usual somehow and I couldn’t blame her.

       “No, she can’t.  Spirits are fighting for her body it seems.  She’s strong though which is impressive.  Most don’t last this long.”  Albert was staring down at her and then looked at me.  “I know I don’t have to tell you this but keep an eye on her. I’ll be bringing dinner in a few hours.” With that I watched Albert get up and leave the room.

      When he left I just stayed in the same place, cradling, and holding (Y/N) close as I could.  I laid my head down on her chest and just focused on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.  Dinner came and went in a blur.  Even watching the Cops reruns I enjoyed just couldn’t help the numb feeling in my gut. Sure, she was strong, but I didn’t like the position she was in.  There was a battle going on inside her and there was nothing I could do about it.  I hated it.  I spent hours hating it and that numb feeling only getting worse with each passing minute.  I had a chance to help someone close to me unlike every other time and yet I felt like I wasn’t much help.  The other times I at least got some scores settled.  Here, I couldn’t do anything.  Any time when she would move in her sleep it made me tense.  How could I sleep like this?  I decided I couldn’t and the only time I left her was to make myself a thermos of coffee.  I would stay awake to make sure she would be alright.  All I had to do was wait for Albert to wake up.

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 15

Nearly there, ish, i promise :)

It is a proven biological fact that serum helps metabolise alcohol faster than unenhanced people can manage. This is why enhanced can’t get drunk as easily and recover quicker. However, given enough alcohol, and inadequate recovery time, and it is also proven that enhanced can get drunk and then feel like hell the day after.

Proven by me. Right now.

I woke up in my bed, blurry eyed, blurry headed and confused. I thought we were watching a movie? Weren’t we? It was only later that I found out Bucky had put me to bed. I moved my head slightly and then winced as the room spun and my head pounded. Looking beside my bed I could see a bottle of water, some pills and a note.

I sat up, slowly, then paused half way while the room whirled again and my stomach churned. I made an involuntary groan of nausea and self-pity. After a few minutes, I was able to pull myself fully to a sitting position, and slumped back against the headboard.

“Jarvis, what time is it?” I asked, followed by a muttered “and what the hell did I do last night?” to myself.

Jarvis responded: ‘Good morning Miss Ruby. It is 8.07am. I can confirm that last night you drank the equivalent of two bottles of wine, two glasses of champagne and some of Ms Romanov’s Russian vodka. You laughed a lot and then fell asleep on Sgt Barnes, who carried you to bed approximately 5 hours ago. You have been sleeping ever since. I can confirm that your liver function is unimpaired however I recommend that you take the pills that Sgt Barnes left out for your stomach and head. I can also confirm that last night in your sleep, you snored for approximate 12 minutes in total, and said three words – Bucky, doll, and something I wasn’t able to detect. Would you like me to play you a recording of anything from last night?’

“No, that was excessively comprehensive Jarvis, thank you”. I slumped over to reach for the bottle of water and pills, and took them, sitting extremely still after until I was sure my body wasn’t going to reject them. Then, in a fog of self-pity and alcohol sweat, I slithered back down into the bed and fell asleep again.

Two hours later, I was woken by a loud pounding on the door. I sat bolt upright and felt a matching pounding in my head, slightly tempered by the painkillers and the serum. Luckily my stomach had settled while I slept but I wasn’t feeling at my best.

“What… who is it, what’s wrong, come in?” I yelled, and Jarvis unlocked the door to reveal Bucky, wide awake, obviously feeling fantastic and also obviously highly amused by my state.

I grunted and threw myself back down onto the bed, pulling the covers over my head. “Go away. I have the flu. I’m dying. Probably contagious” I groaned, then whimpered as he pulled the covers off the bed with enthusiasm and laughed at me.

“Come on kiddo, no excuse. I’m 70 years older than you and I’ve already been for a run! You need a shower and breakfast and to let us all make fun of you”. He was more hyper than I’d seen him before, his eyes sparkling and slightly manic.

“Noo, I need sleep and peace and then to hide away!” I countered, then yelled as he picked me up and walked me into the bathroom. I remembered how he’d helped me shower when I was first rescued from Hydra but now that I felt more… human… I squirmed at the memory, unsure if it was shame or something else that made my skin flush. He obviously didn’t intend to go so far today though, but dumped me in the shower, fully clothed (only then did I realise I was still wearing the dress from last night), turned on the shower, and left, laughing.

I called out “Nat is going to kill you, this is her dress” as he shut the bathroom door, then sighed and realised that the feeling of warm water was actually soothing. I took off my clothes, leaving them dumped in a soggy pile on the floor of the shower, and washed myself, then stood and let the water beat on the back of my neck for a few minutes before sighing and getting out.

Drying myself, I caught sight of my face in the mirror. I was still careful not to look too often, as it could trigger my anxiety, but today all I noticed was the large bags under my eyes which, on closer inspection, turned out to be smudged mascara. Delightful. I scrubbed myself clean, cleaned my teeth, and put on a robe before opening the door.

Bucky was lying back on my bed, arms folded behind his head and a grin still plastered on his far-too-handsome face. I scowled at him, then gathered up some clothes and shut myself in the bathroom again to dress. When I re-emerged, he sat himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and spoke, more gently this time.

“You feeling OK doll? I mean, not just your head, but you feeling OK about yesterday?”

I nodded, then said, blushing “I don’t actually remember all that much about some of yesterday evening, but yeah. It was horrific, and better than I expected” He smiled, and I continued, thinking I’d better get it out before I got too embarrassed. “Bucky. I… Thank you” I looked up at him and met his eyes. “Thank you, for looking out for me yesterday. I know it’s stupid but I wouldn’t have got through a lot of that yesterday without you. The meal, the roof, Sam. Just, thank you”

He stood up, and put his arms around me, resting his cheek on top of my head, and sighed quietly. “Already told you doll, no need to thank me”. I shut my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of my head against his chest, able to feel the warmth of his skin and hear his heartbeat through the material of his shirt. I realised I was enjoying it a bit too much, so pulled away and asked “you mentioned breakfast?”

He’d also mentioned making fun of me, which was pretty accurate. We went up to the kitchen where most of the team were gathered – not all looking their best to be fair. Clint was nursing a black coffee, while Sam lay on a couch nearby, arm over his eyes, and snored gently. Steve and Thor were working their way through a giant plate of food each, looking, as always, feel of life, while Tony and Loki chatted to them from across the table.

As I entered the room, Thor looked up and let out a cheer. “The vanquished warrior has arisen!” he boomed, and I saw Clint wince at the volume. “You have proven yourself capable of drinking at a level not often seen outside Asgard!” Oh god. I had vague memories of talking over the dinner table, becoming more relaxed, but a lot of the evening was lost to me and I hoped would never return. I was quite glad it seemed I’d relaxed, but hoped that I hadn’t done anything embarrassing. I was sure they’d let me know if I had.

I made toast and coffee, and then sat down at the table while everyone made jokes at my expense about headaches, and enhanced Alka-Seltzer, and about tests to see just how much alcohol it took to make me start singing… I glowered, although the combination of Bucky’s painkillers, my serum, and some carbohydrates, meant I was feeling pretty much fine by now.

“Well let’s not forget I am actually underage, so it’s all on you lot. Encouraging a minor to drink, shame on you all! I can’t be held responsible for the actions of my elders.” I was feeling slightly hyped up myself, able to give as good as I got. The feeling was a combination of adrenaline and embarrassment, but just for now I felt part of the team. I grinned as I drank my coffee. They’d forgotten that I was still 20. The years of training, the effect of the serum, everything I’d been through, most people assumed I was older. I knew the teasing wouldn’t stop but it at least shut them up long enough for me to get another cup of coffee and head back to bed for a bit.

I needed to be alone anyway. I felt physically fine now but I was aware that there was a lot going on in my head that I needed to process. I sat on the bed, leaning back against the wall, drinking my coffee, and thinking about yesterday. I’d gone into the day full of nerves at all the company and yet I’d come out of it feeling good. Some of that could be alcohol in my system still inhibiting my anxieties, but something had changed. Maybe it was the effects of my talk with Sam which had been rolling through my head throughout the day, maybe it was the care everyone had shown, which I hadn’t expected – the gentle teasing about my hair, the way they involved me in conversations. I found it hard, still, and I needed my space, but I almost believed that I could fit in here. I knew I had to find Steve and thank him for forcing this on me, and thank Sam for talking to me – and ask if we could make this a regular thing. Thank Nat for the dress. Thank Bucky again… my skin prickled when I thought about Bucky. It was a relief to have someone who genuinely knew what I’d been through; someone I didn’t have to explain about the rage and the fear. But it wasn’t that that came into my head, it was the tender way he’d kept hold of me when I was scared on the roof, the way he’d kept his leg touching mine throughout dinner so I knew he was there. It was a hundred little things that made me know he cared, and which terrified me. I was starting to believe I could be accepted now, despite everything, but I couldn’t accept myself yet, and I certainly couldn’t allow myself to have feelings for someone.

I blew out a huff of breath and rolled my head to ease a stiff neck, then noticed the piece of paper Bucky had left beside the bed with my water. I picked it up and unfolded it.

‘Hey doll. Hope you’re not suffering too much this morning. Just wanted to let you know I’m proud of you, you got through the day and you did great. You know we won’t let this be the last time you relax, don’t you? I’m glad you could put the mission aside for a day, and I’m glad I got to be there with you. Call me when you wake up? Bucky x’

I didn’t realise I was smiling as I read the note. I carefully smoothed it closed again and put it safely in a drawer. This was something that was just for me, the way I felt. I couldn’t admit it to anyone but in the safety of my locked room, I knew I’d read that again. For now, I needed to get back into the safety of mission prep, and not let myself risk emotions just yet.

I was about to go and beat up some punch bags, and try not to think about Bucky’s arms around me, when Jarvis’s voice spoke up. ‘Miss Ruby, Captain Rogers has asked if you can head to the control room. The team is preparing for a mission and would like you to accompany them’.

I garbled out an acknowledgement to Jarvis, telling him I’d be on my way, but stood, paralysed, in my room. They wanted me out on a mission? Could they trust me? Could I trust myself? Could I even make it outside, after the fear I’d felt yesterday? I took a shaky breath, and made my way upstairs.

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[jhmyguardiangel]

☕️ two shots of coffee ☕️

barista!jeonghan x designer!femreader

category: seventeen days of christmas

———

normal. just normal. just another normal day at a coffee shop jeonghan worked at for almost a year. it was days before christmas eve and he was happy about the shop closing just for the day tomorrow.

known as the ‘bae-rista’, he offen made heads turn, not because he was good looking and good at coffee making, but because he was the consultant of troubled kids his age. as a psychology student, he thought his workplace was a good place to put his learning into practice. 

the squeaks from the last glass he rubbed with a towel filled was the only sound prominent in the cafe as he readied himself with closing; his other colleagues had already left for the holidays. the glass he was holding barely made its way back to the rack and greeted the ground in pieces. a loud thud, sniffs, unstable movement, and slurred words came from a girl who suddenly barged in. she seemed like someone who had her heart broken, and definitely drunk. luckily in this situation, jeonghan knew what he had to do. he knew who she was, very well, in fact.

“not fair...” she said, her body slopped on the leather seat by the wall. when jeonghan approached cautiously, he spotted a paper on her hand, his eyes widened reading the words ‘flirt, stealer, unsuitable’ and all the negative words he could think of.

he sat across from her, holding a box of tissues.

“get me a beer!” she said, pointing to the coffee machine.

the silver haired boy sighed, it was rather difficult to deal with this certain person. “y/n, you know drinking isn’t the answer.. what happened?”

“they’re doing it again, ‘han..” you said as your eyes welled up, “i- it’s the fifth t-time..”

jeonghan’s eyes softened, he knew you were hardworking when it came to your studies. as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was partly one of the reasons why you were treated this way.

you’ve been dating jeonghan not for long, it was almost a year. he was a model student that everyone at the university adored. he had everything- good family background, a dean’s lister, excellent grades, a basketball star player, friendly, and extremely good looking.

you on the other hand, were the opposite. that was why people questioned jeonghan’s eye on you. why were you special? why would someone like you- just ordinary- be with someone way out of her league? you’ve had a fair share of discontented stares and whispers from the girls in different courses. don’t even mention the ones in his major.

jeonghan sat beside you, his arms held you around the back to your waist. in the cold weather, this gesture never failed to keep you warm. almost instinctively, you placed your head on his shoulders as you cried softly. your heart melted when he gave you a long kiss on the top of your head. if you had to count, there were probably three long kisses.

“i don’t care what people say about us, y/n.” he carressed your arm, “they only look at you on the surface, but..” you looked up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence, “but i look at your heart. the inner you, the real you.”

“thank you, han.” you hugged him, “we can’t avoid it, people will say anything. we’ll just have to get on with it.”

oh boy how jeonghan disagreed with that, “no babe, no. i’ve got a better idea.” poking your nose and gave you a mischievous smirk.

———

“jeonghan no!” you stopped yourself from exiting the car, face all covered. his grip on your wrist was amazingly strong and tight. “i’m not going out there!”

“oh come on, you’ve come this far to back out now?” he said with hint of tease, obviously succeeded in his plan. “don’t ruin my dignity!”

it was the annual christmas ball at your university before the holidays. it was fancy one at its best, also an equivalent to a high school’s prom. it was something people in their 20s look forward to.

after that night of your breakdown, jeonghan decided that it was best to give you a makeover. the next day he brought you to a salon, his cousin’s place.

for someone who cared less on appearance, this was new to you. and your boyfriend simply admired the simplicity you had. you were beautiful, but he thought how much more so you’d be if you had put in a little makeup and a fancy dress.

you held back a bit, still not confident in yourself. “i- i don’t know jeonghan.. i’m not used to this.”

jeonghan gave you a sweet smile, “you look beautiful. it’s time to prove those haters wrong. it’ll be alright.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks turning pink, “keep your eyes on me, okay?” your foot took a step out of the car. “other stares still get to me.”

he smiled and wrapped his arm down your waist, a habit he loved that showed the world that you were his. “trust me, i’ve always had my eye on you since our freshman year.”

as expected, people turned heads to see your boyfriend all dressed up in a white sparkly suit. his angelic features even made professors look at him. students started to greet him and he’d give them a wave.

but what they didn’t expect to see was you.

after observing jeonghan, girls turned their attention to the boys who were gushing about the girl he had his arms around. and they were more than surprised to see you, all dolled up. your white sparkly v-back gown matched jeonghan’s suit, with silver jewels and diamonds surrounding it. your hair was dyed in a lighter brown, curled on the fringe area, and a snowflake hairpin attached to your loose, low bun.

it was definitely a sight.

“is that y/n?” “has she always been this stunning?” “the rumours were fake, she’s an angel!” “ah jeonghan won the jackpot.” “can’t believe i just noticed her now.”

as much as jeonghan loved your get-up tonight, the attention you got from the other guys got him all annoyed and protective of you, so he gave them a slight glare and a fake smile, making them flinch.

“i heard she designed both of their outfits tonight.” chaeyoung, your best friend, purposely said as she walked past the girls who talked trash about you. “no wonder jeonghan loves her.”

the girls just scowled and continued on.

finding a spot inside the halls, jeonghan turned to you, and the smile you had on your face made him awestruck. his felt his ears heat up and immediately hugged you to hide himself.

“jeonghan?” your confused self hugged him back. “is everything-“

“i love you.”

you paused, it was the first time any of you say those three words.

“now you say it.” he stared into your eyes.

“i love you, too.”

jeonghan squirmed and made giddy noises, taking your hand in his. “let’s celebrate.” holding a glass.

“i thought drinking isn’t good in the winter?” you smirked.

“i know. so.. in honour of the first thing we bonded over...” he ducked his lips, before handing you something that made you both laugh. “two shots of coffee?”

“i’ll be glad to.” you kissed his cheek. “cheers?”

“cheers.”