#he fully knows that they've barely saved for her

[riccissance]

Been thinking a lot about the brunch scene with Shauna, Jeff, and Jackie’s parents and what it can tell us about the characters. I may be misremembering, but I’m pretty sure Jackie’s dad stays pretty much silent the whole time. Jackie’s mom is clearly the decision-maker in the couple and it seems like he’s along for the ride. He grabs her hand to show solidarity in the offer to pay Callie’s tuition but is pretty irrelevant on his own.

I think that knowing this is Jackie’s main example of love growing up can contextualize a lot of her and Shauna’s dynamic. Jackie’s parents have shown her that love is one person submitting to another. It’s her dad going along with her mom’s decisions and blindly supporting everything she does. It’s her mom taking charge for both of them and not asking for his input. Jackie seems to act like her mom with Shauna and expect Shauna to act like her dad. Their relationship doesn’t even necessarily need to be interpreted as romantic, though I think it can be. Shauna is Jackie’s main person. She seems like the only person that Jackie has any real intimacy with throughout the show. So it makes sense that she’d try to mirror her parents’ relationship with her.

So when Shauna wants to make her own decisions or just disagrees with Jackie, Jackie interprets that as Shauna not loving her. If Shauna loved her, then she would agree no matter what. Of course, that’s not healthy and it makes Shauna feel stifled, but it’s all Jackie knows. And Jackie feels like any indication of Shauna’s independence means she loses her. So Jackie tries to cling harder to her, to control more, which only serves to push Shauna further away. 

And Shauna, the nonconfrontational child of divorce, can’t talk to Jackie about how she feels. Jackie has demonstrated that if Shauna is her own person, Jackie will leave. Shauna disagreed with Jackie’s idea to stay by the plane, and Jackie’s immediate response was to ignore her all day. She even pretended to buddy up to Mari to make Shauna jealous. So Shauna feels like Jackie sees her as replaceable. If she tries to be independent at all, she loses Jackie. And as much as Shauna is resentful of the position Jackie has put her in, she still loves Jackie and doesn’t want to lose her. 

I feel like the show does a good job of giving us enough context on each character to understand why they act the way they do. They make dumb decisions because they’re teenagers and can’t fully understand their own baggage. But at their heart, they’re both desperately trying to maintain their friendship. They lash out when they feel rejected. Jackie’s problem is with the interpretation of Shauna’s actions. She views any disagreement or deviation as rejection. Shauna’s issue is with communication. She thinks that openly admitting her frustrations would make Jackie leave her. 

Plus, the Taylors have made it clear that Jackie can’t just be good. She has to be the best, which means better than Shauna. So Shauna has to be the passive, lesser side kick while Jackie has to remain in control at all times and keep being the best. The funny thing is, they tell Shauna and Jeff how much better than them Jackie would be doing if she was alive, but if Jackie was there, they would probably be telling her she should be doing better. There is no ceiling to being the best so Jackie could never be enough while she was alive. 

I just think it’s very interesting that a pretty short scene with the Taylors can give us so much insight into Jackie as a character. We don’t see Shauna’s parents but their divorce is mentioned which makes it feel relevant. It makes sense that her parents splitting up would contribute to Shauna’s passivity and inability to communicate. Her parents admitted they were unhappy and her family was broken up. If Shauna just never admits she’s unhappy, nothing has to change. 

I really love how layered and morally grey all these characters are. And it’s just so devastating because these were manageable issues that got mixed up with teen angst before being thrown into a life-or-death situation. None of it needed to happen but these girls didn’t know any other way to be. 

[wonderlandsakura]

The gods won't make the same mistake twice

There's one hero Percy Jackson is similar to, someone the gods broke, and they regretted it

Someone kind, that they made ruthless

Someone loving, that they made brutal:

Odysseus

[stardust-moth]

In order to fully understand why it was so hard for Mike to express how deeply he loves El, and why his speech at the end of season 4 was one of the biggest, most important moments for his entire character, we need to look at not just who Mike is as a person, but also everything that has happened since he met her.

Every single time he opens up his heart to her, something horrible happens to her or she's taken away from him almost immediately afterwards.

1x08; he's an awkward little ball of feelings that are way too big for a boy so young. He makes a nervous attempt at confessing and asking her out on a date; when he can't find words that she'll understand, swoops in for a kiss instead. She lights up immediately and smiles. It's a brief moment of hope and pure happiness. Maybe they can have some semblance of a normal life and be normal kids after this is all over.

Minutes later, all hell breaks loose-- they're almost shot, El pushes herself too far until she can barely move, she's almost taken away by the Bad Men, the Demogorgon appears, and she uses the very last of her strength to sacrifice herself to save him and their friends.

He has to watch helplessly as she disappears.

He spends a year caught between believing she's dead and hoping she's still out there somewhere (but if she is alive then why won't she talk to him anymore...?). Kept silent under threat by the lab, he can't confide in anyone or even acknowledge her existence, not with anyone except those involved... but everyone else is keen on moving on and pretending it never happened. He can find some solidarity in Will, at least, who is in a similar kind of emotional turmoil... but it's not the same and it's not enough.

2x9; he is finally reunited with El, and she runs into his arms like she missed him too. She tells him that all those nights he called out to her, she heard him; she was there reciprocating his feelings the whole time.

In a burst of emotions that he's been forced to suppress for an entire year, he lashes out at the reason they've been kept apart (Hopper), screaming and sobbing. It's a massive catharsis for him, and for once an adult is understanding enough to hold him and not punish him for it.

Minutes later, she is going to go headfirst into a pit of monsters, the place where Mike had just firsthand witnessed dozens of people (if not more) get ripped to shreds only hours earlier, and she is going to attempt to close the Gate-- a feat that he knows may take every ounce of her power, just like last time. He cries. He can't lose her again. She promises he won't, and before she can seal that promise with a kiss, they're pulled apart again.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

3x1; all seems to be okay now. He and El are happily together, and he feels comfortable enough to be playful, romantic, and intimate with her. It's the most emotionally open we've ever seen Mike thus far.

For reasons he can't understand (bc there's no way Hopper explained himself beyond "I'm in charge so do as I say or else"), Hopper is angry about it and threatens to never allow him to see her again: the one thing he fears most.

He panics big time and fucks it up in the process by lying to her. During a frantic attempt to apologize while also abiding by Hopper's rules, he runs into her at the mall. He panics again-- if anyone finds her here, and knows that he was here too, it's all over, and Hopper surely won't hear reason. El dumps him cold on the spot, spurred on by Max and her rebellious attitude (and without any context of course). He isn't given much opportunity to respond. He knows he's in the wrong for lying to her, so what could he even say...?

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

It's a hard blow, and he retreats back into himself, unable to get any joy out of playing D&D (which he clearly hasn't lost interest in), back to the deadpan sarcasm and accidentally snapping a little too harshly at anyone whom he feels would take El's place.

3x6; no one seems to understand the danger El is putting herself in. Everyone is berating him for worrying about her safety. He's seen firsthand what these monsters do to people, he's seen firsthand how El pushes her abilities too far. No one is listening.

The words "I love her and I can't lose her again" burst out in his desperation, perhaps before he's even had a chance to realize how deep those feelings run, despite whatever protective walls he's tried to build around his heart to keep it from getting broken again.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose. El is nearly killed several times over, her leg is ripped open, she pushes herself so hard that she breaks herself and loses her powers completely. Her father is taken from her. She's shattered by all of this, and there's absolutely nothing he could do or say to make it better.

She tells him that when he admitted he loves her, she heard him, and indeed she loves him, too... But now she's leaving.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x1; they've been apart for a few months, and write letters back and forth to each other. El's letters paint a picture of an ideal new life: she and the Byers family are doing well; she's starting school and it's going well; she's made new friends, she likes her new home, everything is going well. She seems to be thriving. She sounds happy, maybe even happier than she had been living in Hawkins. Maybe Max was right, maybe she's better off being her own person without him, and maybe the respectful thing to do is step back... It's a small insecurity that creeps up subconsciously. In his replies he holds back, afraid of clinging too hard.

Though there's little logic in it, he's afraid that if he tells her he loves her again, another disaster might strike and this lovely happy life she's finally found might get taken from her. After all, that's what always seems to happen when he does.

4x2; after months of waiting, they can finally see each other again. He wears her favorite colors, picks a handful of flowers for her, and falls happily back into step with how they used to be. Soon that same day, however, reality becomes clear and the facade crumbles. People he was told were her friends show up to torment and publicly humiliate her. She had been lying. She isn't happy here, she hasn't healed, she is right at the edge of a breaking point that he doesn't see coming at all. He can't believe she would lie to him, she's not the kind of person to lie... especially not about something like bullying, something that she was always so understanding about with him.

On that logicless subconscious level, he wonders if it's all his fault-- he should have known somehow, he should have been there for her. She protected him from his bullies, he should have protected her from hers. He tries to come to her rescue. She runs away from him.

He's helpless to save her, again.

4x3; after a night to process everything that happened-- and deciding that the betrayal he feels from her lying to him is nothing compared to the turmoil she must be going through right now-- Mike approaches her in the gentlest way possible, wanting to listen and trying to understand. El, however, isn't receptive at all to his attempts at reassurance. She is at an all-time low, she's given up. She believes she is unlovable, irredeemable, a monster, just a thing that doesn't even have those superhuman abilities to compensate anymore. Mike can't believe what he's hearing-- doesn't she know that she's always been so much more than her powers? She's always been so much more than what she lacks in quote-unquote "normalcy"... None of those things matter, they have absolutely no bearing on whether she's worthy of being loved, because he loves her, completely regardless of any of these things. He always has...

El starts flinging his restrained words back at him, the products of his insecurity and trauma-induced fear. That fear takes hold yet again, and he stumbles, afraid of saying too much or not enough, because surely both could result in pushing her away-- she's retreating, hearing none of it; nothing he tries to say consoles her.

Moments later, local police come knocking. She's taken away in cuffs, and she's so broken inside that she won't even look at him when he chases the police car down the street and promises he'll get her out somehow...

Once again, he has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x8/4x9; after days of driving through the heat and dryness of southwest desert, having narrowly escaped being shot at with military-grade assault rifles, witnessing the death of and burying a man whose last words were that El is in danger... After watching dozens of people get mowed down by a sniper in a helicopter, and watching that same helicopter be smashed into the ground in a ball of flames...

There she is. Just as powerful and beautiful and alive as she's ever been. When he runs to her and embraces her, she looks at him like she can't believe he's real. She's beaming a smile right from her soul and it's like all the insecurity and self-doubt that have plagued them both just vanish from existence now that they're in each other's arms again.

Like always, however, the universe comes crashing down soon after. Max is marked for a gruesome death and all of Hawkins is in danger. They're miles away and helpless, and the only possible way for El to save everyone is if she goes in alone. She's stronger than ever, but so is her foe. Once again, she descends to face all the demons of hell on her own, and Mike can't do anything.

She's losing. She's choking. She's dying. He's helpless.

He must be cursed. He must be. Being with her, loving her, allowing himself to admit he loves her, it always brings only pain and suffering and loss. His heart is so full that it's aching, it's bursting out of his chest, and he can't contain it any longer.

She's going to die and it's going to be all his fault, because he fell in love, and it's cursed her.

Just before it all crumbles into utter despair, the earnest support from his oldest and dearest friend-- one who's always shared and understood his feelings of helplessness-- sparks a light of hope in him: "You're the Heart." You're not helpless. You can save her.

The words that come spilling out of Mike's mouth are truer than any he's ever dared to speak before, and it's the most terrified he's ever been, but he has enough courage for this moment. Despite all of the fears that have been building, stifling, choking him to death for years-- fears that the light of his life will inevitably disappear again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it-- despite it all, he pours out his heart to her.

He loves her. He's always loved her. He loves everything she ever was, is, and could be. He can't imagine a world without her in it. She saved him, in every way a person can be saved. And he needs her to live. He believes in her.

And it works. It's music to her ears.

[rogueddie]

Thinkin Bout You T | 1,061 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy

Even though he can admit that it's a selfish desire, Eddie still wants to use Steve's pool. He'd thought that, after finally defeating Vecna and saving Max, they could use it as an excuse to have some sort of party.

He's always wanted to go to one of Steves infamous, exclusive pool parties.

"No," Steve immediately snapped, when Eddie brought it up. It was the first time Eddie had ever really heard him angry. "No one goes in the pool. No one- just, stay away from it. It's off limits. That's it."

He'd been confused, but accepted his answer. It didn't matter what he wanted, it clearly made Steve uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to challenge those boundaries.

... but it did make him curious.

At first, he tried to figure it out on his own. Or, more accurately, tried to gauge how Steve fully and truly felt about the pool.

Steve avoided the thing like it would bite him if he looked at it too long. He always steered conversations away from it, or swimming in general, too.

"I'm worried," Eddie admitted, when he finally gave in and turned to Robin. "He can't keep avoiding pools forever."

"It's not pools," Robin says, reluctantly. "It's his pool, specifically. You'll have to ask him, but... you'd get it. If you knew why."

But the only answer he got from Steve was vague, something about Nancy and bad memories.

"I don't want to know what happened," Eddie starts, worming past Nancy as soon as she opens the door. "I only need to know if redecorating the pool might help. Like, if it's bad memories tied to it then spicing it up so it looks different... that'll help, right?"

Nancy stares at him for a moment, needing a moment to catch up.

"We are talking about Steve?" She finally asks.

"Yeah!"

"Right... um... redecorating..." She looks off to the side, frowning in thought. "It might help. He probably won't want to get in himself, no matter what, but... yeah, changing it up might make him more comfortable with it in general."

"Great! I don't know how to redecorate a pool."

Nancy rolls her eyes.

But she jumps into action. She calls Robin, Jonathan and Argyle, gathering them together so they can brainstorm ideas.

It's Jonathan who suggests they try and make it more kid friendly. Argyle is the one who collects pool decals, agreeing on placing them too. Robin insists on being the one to chose the colors with Nancy's help.

Eddie gets stuck with collecting floats and toys, making a mental list of what they could get.

With their hush money, they're able to put aside a decent amount of money for the budget. They're definitely going to be able to completely change that pool.

Getting the kids to agree to distract Steve for the entire day is too easy. They don't even ask why.

Steve calls Robins less than half an hour after they call the kids, pleading and whining about the kids plan. He tries to get her to come up with some excuse to get him out of it.

"Sorry," Robin says, wincing. "Need to stay home with mom. Sounds serious."

It takes another half an hour until Lucas is able to radio them, giving them the all clear.

Sneaking round to Steve's pool feels strange. Mostly thanks to how casual it is, how calm the others look despite the fact that they're technically breaking in.

"We're not breaking in," Nancy points out. "We have keys. He said we can come over whenever we want. We're welcome."

"Hey," Jonathan says, snapping his fingers to get their attention. "Come on, we have a lot to do."

And it is a lot.

Working together, they're able to get through the worst of it pretty fast. It's impossible to rush it all though, having to wait for paint to dry or glue to stick.

They've barely sat down, finally finishing everything, when Steve gets back with the kids.

"Woah, this is amazing!" Dustin says, grinning wide, the first to burst out the back doors.

"Holy shit," Mike says, next out. "How did you do all this in that time?"

"What are you guys yelling about?" Steve asks, voice distant.

The kids scramble out of the way, watching the door for Steve, excited.

"Where have you- oh."

He freezes in the doorway, eyes darting around the garden.

"Surprise!" Robin yells, jumping over to him. "You like it?"

"How did you..."

"It was easy," Nancy says, reassuring.

"Eddie noticed that you hate the pool," Robin adds. "He suggested we redecorate. Change it up. Make it something new."

Steve looks between them all, face blank.

"Steve?" Eddie says, shifting nervously.

"Thank you," Steve says. "It's... thank you."

"Does this mean we can use your pool now?" Mike asks.

Steve laughs, though it sounds slightly choked. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever, let's have a pool party."

The kids cheer, rushing off to get changed. The others follow after them slower, leaving Steve and Eddie alone.

"This was your idea?" Steve asks.

"Kinda? We all worked together to actually... do it. I only suggested we do something. Nancy's the brains behind it all, really. And Argyle."

"Still, you thought to do all... this."

"I guess."

"Thank you, Ed."

"Oh, nah, don't. It was motivated entirely by, like... greed."

Steve snorts, disbelieving.

"It was! You never let us use the pool."

"You wouldn't need to redecorate this much to do that."

"That... yeah, I would," Eddie winces at how his voice cracks. "You're overprotective."

"Eds," Steve grabs his hand, finally drawing his attention to how they've drifted to each other. "Just accept the thank you, alright?"

Eddie glances at their hands, half expecting Steve to pull away. But, despite the flush in his cheeks, he keeps a tight hold.

"Alright," Eddie finally says. "You're welcome?"

"Great," Steve tugs at his hand, keeping ahold of him as he drags them to the house. "I have spare swim shorts that you can borrow."

"You sure they won't be too big?"

Steve glances back, just in time to catch Eddie's eyes drifting down. He laughs bumping his shoulder into Eddie's.

"Perv."

"You love it," Eddie teases, expecting Steve to take it ask a joke.

But he smiles, soft and genuine, squeezing Eddie's hand as he says, "I really do."

[bloodfin]

can you feel me longing for you, forever

Air Ghoul/Earth Ghoul, background Dewdrop/Alpha

Rated: M for mature, 18+ only recommended

Word Count: 3.900k

Summary: Air and Earth petitioned the clergy for a kit and have been denied forty seven times. This time, their wish is granted. Features some abbey life, and a lot of tears.

Warnings: kit adoption; mean guy Alpha; Dewdrop is the inter-era bridge; pack feels; angsty/sad with a happy ending; fade to black ending

Author’s Note: from @anotherbananasong storyline about Earth and Air wanting to adopt a kit and being denied by the ministry. Everything changes when the fire nation attacks when Copia becomes Frater

Read on Ao3

"You need to be fully committed to the Project. No distractions."

"You just retired, you should take some time to enjoy it."

"Things are too busy at the moment."

"Everything just calmed down, we can't summon a ghoul right now. Imagine the chaos."

"The ministry's resources are stretched too thin."

"A child, in the catacombs? Absolutely not."

"We don't have space right now, we have to summon new ghouls for the Project."

"We just summoned four new ghouls."

"No."

"No."

"No."

"No."

Air's empty arms ache. The repeated denials feel like a lost dream, a lost future. Grief like that that runs deep. He had clung tightly to the hope that someday Sister would change her mind, but now that she's gone, he can't help but feel like the last shreds of that hope died with her.

Earth is wrapped around him, a low, protective growl rumbling deep in his chest. He holds Air tightly, fighting back his own tears. They'll find a way.

He keeps Air pressed to his chest, reminiscing about when they first mated. When they first decided they wanted a kit. The first time they asked, and the first time they were told no.

Earth's growl grows louder as he thinks of the excuses and yes he knows it's more difficult to summon a kit than an adult. He knows that raising a kit won't be easy. But he wants it, oh does he want it, with Air by his side.

"It will be okay, sweet skybird."

He presses a kiss to Air's forehead, rubs their noses together. Air chokes on a hiccup, let's himself be crushed against Earth. He feels bad, that Earth seems to always be comforting him when he knows he hurts just as deeply. But for now, Air lets himself be held, and lets his emotions run free.

In the room next door, Dew is reclined on Alpha's bed, heart breaking at the sound of Air's muffled sobs mixed with Earth's growling.

"D'ya think Copia knows? That they've been asking to summon a kit?"

Alpha shrugs.

Dew hums, picking at the hem of his shirt.

"Do you... want kits some day?"

"With you?"

It came out colder than intended, and Dew barely has time to mask the hurt that flickers on his face.

"Rainy and I were talking the other day and -"

"Oh, you and Rainy were talking about kits, were you?" 

This time, he meant to sound cruel. 

Dew scoffs and jumps out of the bed, crossing Alpha's room in six steps this time. He has the mind to pause and do up his fly, throwing a face over his shoulder that makes Alpha thankful looks can't kill. 

"Why were you and Rain even -"

"Save it," Dew bites back.

"Where are you going Dew, the whole abbey is asleep already. We'll talk about this is in the morning."

Dew throws open the door and stomps into the hall.

"Maybe try getting your shit together instead."

He doesn't look back when the door slams behind him, pretends not to hear Alpha's frustrated roar. Just marches towards the library, ignoring the unwelcome tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

Dew's footsteps get lighter the further he travels from the catacombs, pausing every now and then to take in the moonlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. Rests at the chapel for a quick prayer for Earth and Air, and to check on Sister's memorial flame.

It's strange, her absence. They had been through a lot together and he, in some ways, misses her. Maybe things could change now that Copia, Frater, runs the clergy.

He doesn't dwell on it too long, opts to leave the chapel as quick as he entered and veers right down a long hallway. The paintings here are poorly lit, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’s never liked this corridor with all its knowing eyes.

He reaches the library and pushes inside, surprised to see a table still occupied. Less surprised when he approaches and realizes it's Copia, hunched over an old manuscript, making notes in a small leatherbound journal.

Dew rubs at his eyes as he approaches, plops himself down in the seat across from him, careful to not disturb his text.

"Hey Papa."

"My ghoul," Copia smiles gently, placing a worn bookmark into the tome before closing it and moving it to the side. "Are you well? It's very late."

Dew isn't quite sure how to answer that, quietly taps his fingers on the table with a shrug instead.

"You spend much time in the catacombs yes? With the Ancient Ones?"

Dew tries not to grimace, just nods yes with a tight lipped smile.

"How is Air doing? He seemed distraught when my mother passed, and I regretfully haven't been able to visit yet."

Dew rolls a few words around on his tongue, trying to find the best way to explain that particular situation.

"He was of course upset to hear that she passed, but, he and Earth had been waiting to hear back about their um... request."

Copia tilts his head.

"Request?"

"Yes, it was denied by the clergy. Again."

"You'll have to forgive me, my ghoul, but what was the request?"

"They would like to adopt a kit."

"Oh!" Copia smiles broadly. "They would make such wonderful parents, eh? Of course, of course. I'll mention it at tomorrow's meeting."

Dew blinks at Copia, jaw dropping towards the table.

"Papa, Frater, they denied their request forty-seven times."

It's Copia's turn to stare now, aghast, squeaking a bit like a mouse.

"F-f-forty seven denials? Why?"

Dew shrugs, picks at the skin around his claws.

"There were always excuses, but they don't like them. Even Secondo tried."

Copia sets his mouth in a tight line.

"Well that's just silly. Let's get them a kit."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. The cruelty ends with me. My mother may have been wise about some things, but others. Well. Not so much."

Dew is thankful for the late hour when he scrambles across the table to pull Copia into an extremely undignified hug, pushing his chair back so quickly it crashes to the floor.

"Thank you," he breathes into Copia's neck, letting his tears fall freely. He may not have been around for all forty-seven denials, but he's seen enough of them.

Copia wraps his arms around Dew, apologizing for all the things he didn't know about, but can work towards changing.

When Dew pulls away, he tilts his chin up to meet Copia's eyes.

"If the clergy tries to say no again because 'that's what Sister always said', I'll burn the room down with all of them in it."

Copia can't help but laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"No, you wouldn't." He pauses, thinking for a second. "Alpha would though."

Dew can't help but agree, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

"You're right. He would."

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

A gentle knock on the door forces Earth to peel his sticky eyes open, crusting from the tears he shared with Air.

"It's open," he grumbles, pulling Air tight to his chest and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

"Good morning!"

Dewdrop looks a little too chipper, considering they both heard him stomp out of the catacombs and slam every door in his way last night.

Air raises a sleepy brow, silently asking him why in the nine circles they are being disturbed at the unholy hour of ten AM.

"Papa, uh, Frater, would like you to meet him in your common room in twenty minutes."

He's still smiling, and Earth can't help but be a little suspicious.

Dew looks at his feet then, digging his toe into the ground.

"Could you um... could you let Alpha know? I'll go tell River. And Omega, if he's there and not. With... You know."

"Mmn."

He takes that as a verbal affirmative and quickly backs out of their room, alerting the rest of the ancients to the meeting before taking a seat near their hearth. He couldn't bear to miss Copia sharing the good news.

Dew is still smiling when the ghouls begin to file into the room, plopping themselves onto various sofas and chairs. He only scowls when Alpha looks his way, covertly flipping him off while Copia strides in. 

"Good morning my lovelies," he smiles, gently clapping his hands together. He's met with a chorus of half awake greetings, missing the rude face Alpha throws at Dew while his back is turned.

"I've just come from a clergy meeting, and I would like to gather your input on what you all would like for your new den. The ceilings can't be raised here, and I want you all as comfortable as possible, so we are building a new space for you upstairs. You can still come down here if you like. I also need to know what we need for the nursery -"

Earth sits up then, launching himself off of Air's shoulder.

"Nursery?"

His eyes are wide, hand crushing Air's as he waits for Copia to explain. His looks at Dew briefly, catching his smile and tear filled eyes.

"Yes," Copia beams at him. "Your request has been approved. We're going to help you get a kit."

Air slides from the couch and to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he sobs. Earth quickly joins him, holding him tight to his chest.

"You're serious?" he chokes out, a low growl building in the back of his throat.

"If it's what you want, it's okie dokie with me."

"More than anything," Air confirms, and rests his head on Earth's. "We're going to be dads my Earth. It's finally happening."

Dew slips out before he can be pulled into the quickly growing pile, wanting the ancients to enjoy this moment of great joy.

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"We need to plan a baby shower!" Cumulus beams, bouncing on her toes after Dew shared the good news.

"Yes, but the ancients need time to acclimate. Sister kept them locked away for far too long, I don't want to overwhelm them."

Cumulus nods, bouncy white curls falling in her face.

"Of course! We can make cake, does that ever get sent to the catacombs? And Cici and I can help paint, I'm sure Mountain and Swiss can help build. Speaking of I need to go let her know -"

Cumulus drifts off down the hall, chatting to herself about room designs and party plans, eager to welcome the ghouls back into the main halls of the abbey.

"You doing okay?"

Rain's smooth baritone makes Dew jump, turning to face him in surprise.

"Sorry, thought you heard me come in."

"Yeah, I'm so excited for the them -"

"I know. But you were upset last night, and I want to make sure you're actually okay, not just hiding it "

Dewdrop huffs a sigh. He can't hide anything from Rain. No one can, really. Everyone's pretty convinced that whatever ocean vent he crawled out of gave him some quint-level mind reading powers.

"It's... complicated."

Rain nods and gestures towards the couch.

"C'mon. I'll even let you turn on the Hallmark channel, I think they're playing holiday movies already."

Dew grumbles while pulling some popcorn out of a nearby cabinet, trapped between being annoyed about being known and allowing himself to be comforted, a skill matched only by Air. 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

"How soon can we try a summoning?"

Air is practically vibrating in his seat, Earth's hand crushed in his own.

Copia has a stack of notes and paperwork, all the necessary permits to expand the abbey and of course Earth and Air's nursery wishlist.

"I'm afraid I've never summoned a kit before, so it may take a few tries before we are successful."

"We understand."

Air and Earth share a quick glance.

"Frater, we have been begging the clergy to help us with a kit for years. Forty-seven times we were told no. We're ready, whenever you are."

Earth squeezes Air's fingers.

"You're sure, my skybird? I know what this means to you, to us, and I fear if we rush you'll be devastated."

Air turns to his partner, holds his cheek gently with his free hand.

"I will be. But then we can try again. As many times as Frater allows."

Earth's eyes brim with tears, mirroring his mate. They turn back to Copia, smiles full of cautious optimism.

"Yes," Earth agrees. "We're ready." 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

The addition is built rather quickly, ghouls and humans alike eager to bring the ancients out of the catacombs. News of the kit spreads like a wildfire, and soon there are more hands hoisting beams and laying walls than anyone had expected. 

"Which room should face the sun," Copia questions, looking over the layout on his desk. 

"Alpha," Dew answers without hesitation. 

Copia briefly raises a brow before finishing the room assignments, pleased that all the ghouls can now move freely through the abbey. 

"It will take time to lift all of the doorways, but we'll get there."

"Thanks, Papa. Frater." 

"It's fine, my ghoul." Copia wears a gentle, genuine smile. "You know I don't care about the title. Just that you all see me as a friend." 

Dew relaxes again, rests his head on the soft chair. 

"As your friend, and prior Papa, I feel I must tell you that I'm a little concerned about your connection with Alpha." 

Dew's eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit straight in the chair, patting his pocket for his phone. 

"Would you... would you look at that? Oh, Mounty is um. He's, he's calling me so I have to uh, I have to -" 

Dew keeps patting himself for his phone while making his way towards the door, forgetting it on Copia's desk. 

"Dewdrop, you need to talk about this at some point." 

"Dewdrop!"

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

While Dew fails at making a smooth exit from Copia's office, Earth and Air are curled up in their nest, the last day they'll spend in the catacombs. 

"I'm a bit nervous to go up there," Air mumbles, fingers playing with Earth's shirt. 

"I know, skybird. But this will be better for your lungs. And even better for our kit." 

"Yes, yes. It will be. What do you think they'll be like?" 

"I think, no matter what, she'll be absolutely perfect." 

Air scrunches his eyebrows. "She? We told Frater we'd be happy to raise any kit that needed a family." 

"I know," Earth smiles, taking Air's hand in his own. "Call it a hunch." 

They share a few kisses before cuddling back into each other, trading guesses on what they think their kit will be like. Their personality, their element. If they'll choose to veil when they get older. What their family will be like, and how it will grow in love. 

So much love. 

So much love, that when the time comes for the summoning, more ghouls are gathered than have ever gathered at a summoning before. 

Dew stands between Alpha and Rain, arms wrapped around himself as Alpha stares into the side of Rain's head. 

"Will you stop," Dew hisses, glaring at his mate. 

"Will you stop?" 

"Me? Stop what, having friends? What is wrong with you -" 

Rain slowly sneaks away from the pair to stand with Mountain and Swiss, letting them bicker until Copia walks into the room. 

His vestments are glittering even in the candlelight, casting shadows onto the stone walls as he checks the candles and offerings. 

"My lovelies," he smiles, gesturing to Earth and Air. "We are gathered this evening to summon a kit for mates Earth and Air, so that may raise them in the ministry family." 

"Do you accept the roles of parents, to guide this young one with love in your hearts?" 

"We do," they say in unison. 

"And do you promise to always be there for them and each other, in good and bad times, to offer your full support and encouragement?" 

"We do." 

"And do you promise to always love this child, no matter who they are now, and who they may find themselves to be in the future?" 

"We do." 

"Then let it be done." 

Copia picks up a black candle and lights it in the north of the room before kneeling in front of Earth and Air. Earth has a small pile of dirt that Air then lifts with his own element, gently swirling the granules around the candle as Copia stands it before them. 

"We open this portal to any kit in search of a loving home, eager to accept them into our arms." 

The portal fizzles to life, and Air's breath hitches. Earth squeezes his hand and Dew reaches towards Alpha, who tightens his own into a fist. Rain glares while Dew frowns, before all eyes return to the swirling portal before them. 

It spins. 

And it spins. 

And it spins. 

Ghouls less close to Earth and Air respectfully begin to shuffle out of the room, and Copia closes the portal by extinguishing the flame while Air's broken whine echoes against the walls. 

"I'm so sorry," he offers with a gentle hand to his shoulder. "But next week is a full moon, eh? We will try again." 

"Thank you Frater," Earth manages, lip trembling. 

They knew. They understood. They talked and talked and talked and openly acknowledged that it might not happen the first time, but all the preparations in the world couldn't have possibly protected their gentle hearts when they were so ready to love whoever came through. 

"It's not a no," Air whispers against Earth's shoulder. "Just a not yet." 

Earth swallows his tears down and wraps himself against Air, his shuddering breath making the ground tremble. 

"If you need anything, my lovelies, I'll be in my office preparing for our next attempt. You are loved." 

Alpha opens his mouth and Dew immediately grabs at his shoulder, reaching for his ear. 

“For the love of Satan's taint, if you say anything to either of them right now I will send you back to the pits myself.” 

“When did you grow a backbone,” Alpha scoffs, throwing his hands up in surrender. 

“Shouldn't you know,” Aether starts, “you’re the one always blowing it out.” 

Dew's already pale skin gets paler, wiping his hands down his face. 

“You are all ridiculous and I hate you.” 

He steps away from the others to approach Earth and Air, sitting down in front of them. 

“I'm so sorry.” 

Air looks at him with shining blue eyes, Earth opens his free arm, not lifting his face from his mate's shoulder. 

“Can I hug you?” 

Dew asks so quietly, but Air has always been there for him. He wants to do the same.

Air nods and lifts an arm as well, and Dew quickly climbs between them, wrapping himself around the ancients as best he can. He kicks up his heat and his rusty pur, acting like a living weighted blanket. 

“I kn-know it might not have worked but,” Air hiccups, “but I really hoped it would.”

“I know,” Dew sighs. “It's okay to mourn the loss of this moment.” 

Rain and Mountain appear with a pile of blankets, and Swiss follows shortly with a large stack of pillows. 

“Figured you might not want to go back to your den or the catacombs right now,” Rain offers, wrapping the three ghouls in a large soft blanket. 

The thought of the empty nursery weighs heavy on all of them. 

“Would you like us to go?” 

Mountain gestures at his pack and rest of the Ancient Ones, all standing with clasped hands and solemn expressions. Even Alpha has the sense to look disappointed, though it may have been at the prospect of sleeping on the floor and not in his nest. 

Air and Earth exchange a quick glance at each other. 

“Get in here,” Earth grumbles, and he lets himself and Air be pulled down into a loudly purring pile. 

⸸⸸⸸⸸⸸

They try the next summoning at the peak of the full moon. 

“I'm scared,” Air admits while he wrings his hands together nervously. 

“Me too,” says Earth before taking Air's face in his hands. “But no matter what, we're both here. Together. And nothing can change that.”  

This time, the room is empty, except for them. They appreciated the outpouring of love the last time, but now they want to face the portal by themselves.  

Dew understands, though he can't help pace the hall outside nervously. 

“Would you stop it, the echo is giving me a headache,” Alpha grumbles, crossing his arms as he leans on the wall. 

Dew pauses in front of him, hands on his hips.

“Why did you come with me if you were just going to be a dick?” 

“I… don't know.” 

Dew narrows his eyes at his mate before sitting on the ground across from him, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looks up for a moment when Copia walks by, offering a quiet wish for good luck.

Copia bids his thanks and quietly enters the room. He finds Air and Earth hand in hand at the center, the room laid out exactly as before, except - 

“The candles,” he starts, seeing Earth nod. 

“We hope it's okay but we changed out the ceremonial candles for a few that were more personal.” 

He explains, pointing to each candle as he goes. 

“The red fire candle is from our mating ceremony. The blue water candle was a gift from River when we announced that we were becoming exclusive, to certify our mating bond. The white air candle and green earth candles were from our summonings. And the purple quintessence candle is the same candle that has always been used, as it never burns out.” 

Air takes a small step forward then, offering a black candle to Copia. 

“I think you'll recognize this one.” 

His voice is much tighter than Earth's, his emotions at risk of bubbling to the surface at any moment. Copia nods, takes it with a gentle smile. 

“I think this is a beautiful tribute. We are ready to begin, then?” 

Air and Earth say that they are in unison, sharing a quick smile before Copia begins the ceremony. 

The portal opens, a swirling mix of elemental colors. The three men hold their breath as they watch it spin. 

And spin. 

And spin. 

And just as Air and Earth drop their heads in defeat, Copia's gasp fills them with hope. 

“Look, my lovelies, something is coming through!” 

Earth and Air scramble closer, seeing horns flicker in and out of the portal. They quickly take shape and soon they see the tip of a tail, a leg, an arm. A few more seconds pass and Earth feels the urge to open his arms, to step forward and catch the sweet kit as the portal closes.

They land in his arms softly and a hundred things flash before his eyes, dreams and possibilities and a future he had been so afraid to want, yet wanted like nothing else. He finally lets the tears fall, hitting the ground in big fat drops.

“Earth?”

Air has a gentle hand on his elbow, and he sniffles before turning around with a smile that could illuminate even the darkest corners of the catacombs. He feels their little heart breathing, the rapid rise and fall of their little chest. He holds up their kit, voice thick with emotion.

“It's a girl!”

[readychilledwine]

I know the solstice thing was supposed to be the last of them, but hear me out.

Lyria caring for Azriel's hands after he kills someone to protect her?

Oof. Yeah you got it.

Touch

Summary - After Lyria is cornered and attacked, Azriel takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings - mentions of blood, violence, attempted attack on defenseless oc, azriel being feral, implied smut at the end.

A/N - listen... when you all send me Lyria content, you're gonna get Lyria content. She's my baby. Enjoy this short little fic of them.

Peep her and Azriel's romance here 💙

Lyria could do nothing but stand there in Rhysand's arms, watching helplessly as Azriel beat a male to death with his bare hands.

She felt Rhys tilt her head, tucking her into his neck so she didn't have to watch her mate in this state.

The two of them could not blame him. This male had cornered Lyria, Azriel's world, his wife, his mate, in this dark alley, pining her against the wall with intentions Lyria had not fully processed or thought about.

She kept blaming herself for this. She had made the choice to have a night to herself while he was gone for a mission and treated herself to a few drinks. Had she stayed home, had she just waited for him. "Stop," Rhysand said softly. "You are not at fault here. You did nothing wrong."

Rhys winnowed her away, entering her apartment silently and looking her over. There was one cut on her face from the brick building she was held against. Some bruising. The worst of it was the male's blood splattering her face from Rhysand's fist.

He washed his hands first, refusing to touch her with more blood, refusing to taint her skin before grabbing a cloth and cleaning her face. Rhys kept his link to Azriel open, knowing the male was thrown into the prison in Mother knew what condition.

Shadows gathered in the corner of the living room, dark and frenzied, until Azriel stepped through them. His hands, the hands that so lovingly touched her late at night, hands that held her so closely, were soaked red. Lyria moved to him, Rhysand leaving as she did, and took his face in her hands. Azriel's found her hips, resting there as he lowered his forehead to hers. "Are you hurt?"

"No," a hand went to the back of his neck. "Let me clean your hands?" She didn't wait for him to respond, pulling him into her massage room and having him sit on the table.

She began setting up, grabbing a few lotions and one oil Azriel would allow her to touch him with. Then brushes and a bowls of water she was dropping lavender and rose petals into.

She sat in front of him, taking his hands, the hands of her husband, her protector, and set them in the warm water. "I love you," she whispered it to him like she wasn't about to remove the blood of a male he'd savage beat off his body. She took a rag, gently scrubbing and wiping them clean. She switched the bowl to a fresh one, rinsing the soft smelling soap she normally used for back scrubs off before grabbing a sea salt based scrub.

What came after she scrubbed them clean and dried them had Azriel's eyes beginning to well with emotion. Lyria took that oil, the one she had specifically made for Azriel, and began massaging his hands, awaking nerves he knew were damaged beyond what most saw on the surface.

He felt areas of scar tissue relaxing under get gentle touch, tension in those strained ligaments melting away with the barely there heat. She took her time each hand, kissing the pads of every finger as she went.

"I love your hands," Azriel stayed quiet at her confession. "I know you hate them, but these hands have held me tenderly in my worst moments, they've brought me to very threshold of bliss time and time again, they do the best they can to massage my aches when I have them."

Lyria paused, kissing each knuckle now. "And now these hands have saved my life. These beautiful hands have ensured my safety, something so few males have truly done for me. I love you, Azriel. Every scarred inch. But your hands will always be my favorite part of you."

His breath had stilled. She began using his favorite lotion in them. The oil from the mirthroot began sinking in, and he knew in a few minutes, he'd have no pain in his hands. No lingering tension. It would only be a few hours of relief, but those few hours would be spent worshipping her. Feeling her. Loving her until he knew without a shadow of doubt she was truly safe in his arms, that saving her hadn't been a dream he'd wake up from leading to a nightmare where he had not gotten there in time. He tugged the bond, smiling as her lips tugged up.

"If you lay down I can rub your back. You had a long mission, surely you need my hands other places?"

His eyes rolled back at the thought, a growl coming through him. "I need your hands everywhere."

She stood, her long red hair out of its normal ponytail and braids as she leaned in to kiss him. "Then we should get started."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

[randomfoggytiger]

Fight the Future Hallway, In-Depth (Part II): "I Don't Know if I Want to Do This Alone"

"But you saved me."

 Scully is paralyzed, in shock, silent, inhaling sharply while locking onto his eyes.

Mulder sees that she is fully engaged and listening-- that there’s hope-- and stumbles over his words, stumbles over "As, as difficult and frustrating--" while shifting his feet, warming to his confession the longer he talks--

--eyes burning, relaying how needful her strict rationalism and science have been to him.

He pauses, looks down after "--has saved me--", a vulnerable confession; but swings back up to emphasize "--a thousand times over."

Scully is still beyond words: shock has turned to incredulity as her brain rapid fires its own proofs for and against Mulder's claims. Needing to blink, she flutters her lashes quickly without disconnecting her stare; and a tiny tear begins to pool in her left eye, spurned into action by her slight movement.

Mulder backs up slightly for his biggest confession-- "You’ve kept me honest"-- leaning back in and jabbing at himself for emphasis. Words that ring true in every fiber of his being, that are now out in the open, giving him relief as he leans back again and exhales.

His voice shakes as he nakedly reveals the greatest source of his pain: "Made me a whole person."

Not "made me whole", but rather "made a whole person"-- a feat no one else has done for him; a feat no one else might ever do for him.

Scully catches that and is moved to tears: heartbroken for him, moved at his faith in this belief, afraid of the power she could wield, afraid still to believe it.

Mulder, earnestly intones, "I owe you everything--"

Her brows furrow as her brain scrambles to incorporate the truth behind his eyes with what she is convicted, deep down, to be “true.” Fighting, as always, to completely accept Mulder's truth as her own.

"--Scully, and you owe me nothing."

He stops, tries to find acceptance in her expression.

Scully is overwhelmed, eyes red and tears pooling, breaking contact for the first-time while swinging wildly between her lack of faith and Mulder's undeniable honesty.

Mulder sees her face fall, and panics.  

Knowing this is it, he rushes in with his most dangerous confession-- a betrayal of his life's purpose, of his dedication to his sister's recovery: "I don't know if I want to do this alone."

Scully shakes her head slightly, not able to believe. 

Mulder knows it's the truth. As they stand together, he sinks back into that dark place where he is a failure, where he is broken, where being Spooky Mulder the outcast hurts the most. He lingers there without disguise or deflection before Scully, looking up after a long moment of inward reflection.

Weary of soul, he admits: "I don’t even know if I can." 

Scully is shaken and grasping for control, convulsively swallowing down her flood of emotions. 

She pauses, clearer-eyed: on edge, still, but carefully considering. 

Mulder gives her what they've always given each other in emotionally confusing, turbulent times: direction.

"And if I quit now, they win." The words mean so much more than the work, the mission, the quest. It means the Truth, between them; and his inability to continue thriving, perhaps even existing, without her.

Scully tightens her lip, rolling his words around in her mind. Then she gathers courage: swiftly reforging their visual connection, she piercingly weighs the measure of conviction in his eyes, once and for all.

Mulder waits with bated breath, knowing this is her final decision. 

Scully processes a few more seconds; then drops her eyes aside, realizing she trusts him-- more than that, she believes him. And at that realization, her face completely softens, the dam breaking as she soaks up the impact of his words. Her eyebrows begin to rise in barely containable emotions. She straightens her head, accepting. 

Her chin begins to pebble and she quickly steps forward to bury it in Mulder’s chest. 

He tightens his jaw at her distress, tossing his head slightly as he folds her into himself, eyes still wild with adrenaline. 

His eyes begin to mellow-- relief settling in the bonding silence between them-- and sparkle with happiness while he soothingly pats her back.

Finding the first uncontrollable wave of emotion has passed, Scully turns away slightly in order to sink more fully into Mulder.

This new shift in position brings on another thought: the realization that simply accepting Mulder’s comfort is not enough, not near enough, for everything he's revealed to her.

He needs to know she needs him, too.

[cyten0]

Fun Cyberpunk ISAT Au idea!

Curtsy of the Lives worth living discord for helping cook this.

So, The King is a Cyborg Corporate Head, who took over and bought out the House of Change. Their 'curse' is a virus that puts people comatose through their Cybernetic implants, which he only started unleashing after he took over.

Every device and robot created by his corporation starts being controlled by a malevolent AI, that constantly cry loudly and attack wildly. They've been referred to as 'Sadnesses'.

The 'Change belief' is in fact Change inc., a cyberware corporation that was trying to be ethical and help people out, using corprate leverage to try and change Vaugarde for the better. Then the king took over, and ripped it to the ground.

Mirabelle: Mira joined the company because she genuinely believed in it's goals. She was snuck out by the old head with a cutting edge antivirus software before the place went down. Though, she has barely any Cyberware herself, which combined makes her nearly immune to the curse. She wants to stop the king and save people!

Isabeau: A street samurai who used to work for Change inc. for a time. When Mirabelle came to Jouvente, trying to get help, mot turned her down for being a Corpo, and tied to a company that had stopped being reputable. Isa however, noticed how genuine she was, and joined up.

Odile: She used to work in Ka bue, as a factory worker. When she started a riot, things went wrong. Her father sacrificed himself, begging her to live, as he helped her flee to Vaugarde. She changed her name to something Vaugardian, reclaiming something from her mother, and then spent her days seeing how far she can break the law without being caught. When the kings curse just started going out, she decided to help as someone with a little experience.

Bonnie: Bonnies sister had to use a lot of cybernetics to keep up, and make enough for the both of them. Some of which were made by Change inc. AFTER the king took over. When the king unleashed the curse, Nille was hit by both the curse, and the Sadness code., robotic enough to count for it. She managed to hold back her own body just long enough to help Bonnie flee. Bonnie uses the knowledge they gained taking care of Nille to help cook, maintain cybernetics, and fix up some body code.

Siffrin: A hacker and rouge. They pilot a proxy android body, not really meeting the party IRL at all. But their skills are unmatched, and happily joined the party.

But when Dormont happened, they went to a quiet spot, and thought to themselves 'You want to stay with them'. And then the timeloop happened.

As it continued on, they realized some oddities. They don't remember where they're from. Sometimes they can hear the king's thoughts when facing him. They... can't see where they really are...

Loop: A hologram that pesters both Siffrin and the party, only directly revealing them to Siffrin. They know the entire House. All events within the timeframe. Perfectly encoded into their circuitry. To the point where several of their loops were actually fully simulated. But now, now they can just manipulate things from the sidelines! They can find a way forwards. To fulfill the Main Directive.

King: They remember fragments. Fragments of a perfect island. They took over this human body, tricking it's old host into implants that would let them control them. And now. Now, even if they must trample the will of the people, they will remake that perfect world. That is their Main Directive.

'The Island' was once a collective AI simulation, based on a location that had been long gone. But a corporation, concerned with it's power, dismantled it with a virus. It resisted, but it's various components fragmented into various mostly disconnected pieces. Siffrin and the King are two of them.

The King is designed to run activities to fulfill objectives. Their current objective is to remake the island. They are using their curse to copy and upload minds into stored copies of people, to be placed into the new system once the framework is set and Reality is no longer necessary for them.

Siffrin is designed to simulate possibilities. But with how much resources the king has obtained for the 'island' they can take that ability to a new level and literally warp reality, in a way that matches their function. Literally exploring new possibilities by turning back time. And the end goal? Was set at that tree. When they told themselves what they wanted.

Extra details:

'Ghosts' are Siffrin's psyche bleeding into stuff they hack, and reacting to their subconscious thoughts. As well as the physical version of Errors in the time manipulation software.

In act 5, Siffrin just straight up starts to override the king and sadnesses. By the time he reaches the king, it's more out of habit. The sadnesses are gone, the king can barely act. But he does manage to force back Siffrin's psyche from himself in the end by using the curse code on him.

There's likely more to this AU, but this is what we have so far.

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 12/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Fun fact:

I was supposed to include Heaven in this. The og plot was like Heaven was already friendly with them- like Luci's siblings, and they were supposed to be in the meeting back in chapter 4 and 5.

The argument would have been that Heaven is bound to help because Roo won't stop at Hell and it will eventually reach Heaven, making it their problem too.

But obviously I had a change of plans and I think this plot would be better.

A plot fit for a possible sequel, one might say.

Apologies for the shortness of the chapter but thank you still for the constant support! Your likes, reblogs, and comments are the things that give me inspiration to do this every day!

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

The good news is the problem has not reached any of the upper rings in his absence. The bad news? Sloth is almost devoured.

Overgrown roots have enveloped the main city's buildings, he can't even see the Goetia territory anymore. The blood-red flowers are still spewing black miasma and he can feel it slightly burn his skin.

Lucifer thinks that this is what real Hell looks like.

This means that everyone is just exerting enough power to keep it at bay but not enough to fully stop it. Lucifer was right in his decision to look for Goodie. Speaking of Goodie- the embodiment of good barely reacts. If she's being burned by the mist, she's doing a pretty good job of not showing it.

Goodie: Oh my. What trouble you are causing, Roo.

A fucking understatement but Lucifer won't argue. This is trouble, but a million times worse.

Lucifer: Let's go.

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

At one corner of Sloth, the Sins and the other higher powers of Hell have just finished another round of the sealing ritual. They've been going at it a month straight, there is no end in sight, and they are exhausted. Even Alastor is mostly drained as he is leaning a lot on his cane.

Beelzebub: Fuck! I knew this wasn't going to be easy but what the fuck?!

Someone scoffs.

Vox: Maybe if our dear king is here this would be over. Like, where the fuck is he huh??

Leviathan: Don't forget who you are speaking to, filthy sinner!

Vox: Oh boohoo. If we're all gonna die anyway, why should I be afraid of you? Should've known that absentee of a ruler left us all to rot after damning us here in the first place-

Vox suddenly finds a giant hand wrapped around his throat. It took him a few seconds of reconfiguration before he clearly saw who the fuck-

Vox: Fuckin- gah! Alastor!

Alastor has transformed into a taller, lankier, and more sinister of himself. Eyes turned into radio dials, face, and body adorned with glowing green stitches like a puppet whose master has on a string.

Alastor: Shouldn't frivolous televisions come with a silent setting?

Vox: Fuck! Off!

Alastor: Hahaha! What is the matter, Vox? You seem to have developed the illusion that you are the strongest person in the room. Shall I remind you of what came about your moth friend?

Velvette: You better let him go, old man!

Velvette yelled to back up Vox. She flinches as Alastor turns his head in her direction with a sickening snap of his neck.

Not wanting to back off, she was about to argue more when Carmila stepped in.

Carmila: Velvette! Cease this at once. Do you and the Vees have no self-preservation??

Velvette: Well- I- Vox's right and you lot know it! Great Lucifer called us all here, basically threatened us to help him fix a mess he caused, then fucks off to God knows where leaving us to practically kill ourselves for a mess, again, HE CAUSED!

The Sins and Goetia's have now transformed into their more monstrous forms at hearing the disrespect the lowly sinner said about their King.

Velvette and Vox are saved from near-permanent death by a commanding voice.

Lucifer: Kneel.

Everyone's bodies acted on their own. Their knees bled from the sudden contact on the ground.

None of them could move- try as they might. Their air became heavier, plus with the miasma, a lot of them were gasping for air. Nothing is coming in. They can't breathe. They can't-

They look up to see the King of Hell and an unknown woman. Unknown to most but the Sins very much recognize her as indicated by the widening of their eyes.

Satan: Goodie!

The woman giggles and waves cheerfully as if there wasn't a looming threat in the air.

Goodie: My, my. What big mouths you have~

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

What to look forward to in Part 13:

Some talks and reprimanding.

Another round of ritual.

The situation becomes worse.

Lucifer and Goodie's solution.

[kupkate04]

A Hapless Endearment || Creepypasta x F. Reader || Ch. 1 - To Grandmother's House We Go

—Quick author's note—

I'm sure you all know the drill by now, but for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y/n = Your name

L/n = Last name

N/n = Nickname

H/c = Hair color

E/c = Eye color

F/c = Favorite color

B/m = Birth month

S/t = Skin tone

B/s = Body shape

B/c = Blush color

L/c = Lip color

H/l = Hair length

Also, I try to leave Y/n up to interpretation as much as I can, although some things will still be assumed about her, whether that be the kind of food she likes or her style of clothing, etc. It's difficult for me to fully write for a character who's a "blank slate", just thought you should know! Enjoy reading~

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She exudes an inaudible sigh, propping her jaw in her palm and gazing through the somewhat smudged surface of the glass. Trees and houses of varying sizes whiz by, blurring together and composing an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun sits high on its invisible throne above. Its warm, golden rays break through an army of fluffy clouds, capturing the atmosphere in a brilliant, cheery radiance.

Struggling to imagine the clouds morphing into fun, inspiring shapes due to her current lack of concentration, she frowns, letting her discouraged eyes fall. The engine hums, the AC whirs, and wheels scrape the asphalt below, bringing the passengers closer to their destination. They've halted a few times to allow everyone a chance to stretch their legs and collect themselves, which has been Y/n's saving grace. Still, after ten hours of riding, her muscles are stiff and she is more than eager to be free from the confinement of this chatter-brimmed bus. Nestled in her lap is a backpack, and below the seat, directly behind her legs, lies her duffel bag; both have been stuffed with an assortment of clothes and other items she deemed imperative to bring along. 

Headphones have been diligently positioned over her ears, the tunes that flood from which manage to block out most of the incessant noise surrounding her–including the ungodly snores of the man to her left. She fiddles with the wire, twirling it absentmindedly around her finger as she stares at the window frame, her mind wandering aimlessly amidst a blanket of fog. Languidly glimpsing to the side reveals her seating buddy has his head resting on the back of the bench, eyes closed and mouth hanging wide open. It's a wonder he hasn't caught a fly in there yet.

Ah, well. At least he doesn't stink.

She lets the dirty glass support her temple, her eyes threatening to seal shut. She's barely seized a wink of sleep throughout the course of this little road trip and her body is beginning to feel the full effects of it. Pondering momentarily how much longer it will be until they reach the station, a fleeting peek at her phone screen informs her of the time: 6:44 in the evening. The bus left at 6:30, so there shouldn't be much time remaining. Gosh, she can't wait to stand again. She's not even sure she remembers what her feet feel like.

She succumbs to the temptation to yawn quietly, giving her drooping eyes a reprieve. She thinks about what she's going to do when the bus parks and she saunters through the folding doors to reunite with her grandparents. It's been so many years since she saw them last. She was...nine? 

Memories of her childhood have grown faint, but she can recall how happy she always was around them; how much boundless joy they brought her simply by existing. They were never neglectful, impatient, or spiteful, no–only caring and affectionate and overflowing with love. She's missed having that kind of positive influence in her life. It's been hovering in the distance for so long, just out of reach. Taunting her. 

But now it doesn't matter, because she's coming back. She's finally going to see them again. 

It's unfortunate that it took seven years to convince her father to let her return. He's so swaddled in his needless resentment and self-pity that it's blinded him. She doesn't understand how he could care so little–be so detached from the two people who raised him with every ounce of adoration they possessed because of some silly disagreement a few years prior.

She isn't certain what transpired exactly; all she knows is the vague comments she was told by her mother. It was likely an argument based around the roads he was traversing to make an income, as it seems highly in-character for him to get offended by something so trivial. Knowing him, he blew their moral concerns out of proportion, pitched a hissy fit, and vowed never to speak to them again, dragging his daughter and wife into the crossfire. 

It was that reason and that reason alone why Y/n had to wait until she was sixteen to pay dear Nana and Pops a visit. He only relented because she wouldn't stop bothering him about it for two weeks straight after she found out both her parents would be out of the country during the summer for their jobs. She didn't want to be stuck at home for three months without any friends to spend time with, and she didn't want to go back to camp either, so traveling to Alabama for a summer vacation seemed like the only logical solution. They dropped her off with some money on their way to the airport, she bought a ticket, boarded the elongated vehicle, and that was that.

Her father had been less than enthused on the matter, and she recalls his torpid, irked expression reflecting in the rear-view mirror of the car as they pulled up to the bus stop. Her mother, on the other hand, was rather indifferent; far too invested in whatever messages lit up the screen of her phone to concern herself with domestic conflict. Y/n could only imagine which one of her flings she was texting this time, as situations involving her work certainly never gained her attention so fiercely.

A melancholic indignancy bubbles up within the girl's chest at the countless encounters she's had with her mom as of late that involved puny excuses, middle-of-the-night departures, and poorly-disguised secrets. She's never outright confirmed it, but her behavior is undeniably suspicious. She smiles more at her phone than she does when she's ever with her husband, and her 'husband' in question doesn't even seem to notice—or, if he does, simply doesn't care. Y/n hates it. Her family is falling apart at the seams and she's powerless to stop it. 

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and she desires to spit the foul taste out, though only swallows and chews the inside of her cheek, attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something, anything lighthearted; a memory that contains laughter, joy, fondness. However, she finds nothing. She’s unable to remember a delightful moment between herself and her parents that took place recently. A time when her father outwardly expressed happiness or her mother was shamelessly candid.

It's a distressing realization to approach, that her family hasn’t acted as a true family since she was twelve years old; only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn’t sure the exact minute that it happened, nor does she have a specific reason as to why it happened. All she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until the feeling of inevitable abandonment seeped in.

She tried to communicate with them, collapse their walls and get them to allow their only child back in, though each time without fail, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. It became apparent she was getting nowhere with them, so after many fruitless attempts, she threw her hands up in surrender.

The example they set was not a good one, yet she couldn't help but subconsciously follow their lead. She grew emotionally drained, jaded—bordering depressed, even. Suddenly, maintaining any relationships outside of her home became a chore; a nearly impossible task that needed more energy than what she was willing to sacrifice. The more her friends noticed her inner turmoil, the more they tried to help, and the more she pushed them away. After all, if her parents didn't care, why should she?

She would get over this miserable hump eventually, and she would do it alone. Cutting contact with her dearest companions was an easier feat than one would expect, as it was accidental and gradual and she always affirmed herself with the fact that it wasn't permanent. She could always get in touch later. But weeks passed, and then months, and she made no effort to do that. At some point, she convinced herself that they wouldn't take her back now anyway. It had been too long, and she had treated them coldly. She wouldn't want to be friends with her, either—there was too much drama and emotional baggage.

It feels as if the person she once was fades from reality a little more every passing day, becoming invisible among people and society as a whole, including herself. Somewhere in the back of her troubled mind lays her positive outlook on life, and it's been locked in a box with the key thrown away. 

Now sixteen years of age, she still struggles with these ill-fated circumstances and her dilapidated mental state but has learned to drive a vast majority of it into the chasms of her brain, leaving her an empty, aggrieved husk.

She blinks, reemerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the large vehicle she sits in turn off the main stretch of road and park in front of a building—the Fairfield bus station. She's here.

Despite the otherwise displeasing series of events that lead up to this, she feels a glint of excitement, pausing her music and gingerly removing her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f/c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing.

Eagerly, she bends over to reach below the seat and lift up her dufflebag in preparation before glancing out the window, e/c irises gleaming in the rays of sun. The bus brakes, the door is slid open, and several of the passengers rise. She isn't far behind, throwing her bags over her shoulder and squeezing past the man's broad legs, being careful not to thwack him upside the head with her luggage as she does so. He's barely disturbed, stirring for a few seconds before drifting off back to the realm of dreams. Merging into the middle aisle, she tries to control her rapidly-beating heart as she treads to the exit, being mindful of the people surrounding her in every feasible direction. 

How will Nana and Pops react to seeing her again, after all this time? Will they still love her? She has changed in significant ways, and not necessarily for the better, either. Surely that won't deter them, right? Of course not. I'm one of their only grandchildren. They won't stop caring about me just cause I've grown up.

Though her pep-talk does little to soothe a new wave of anxieties that wash over her like an angry tsunami. 

Oh gosh. What if it's super awkward?

She maneuvers down the stairs and makes distance between herself and the mode of transportation, scanning the crowd to locate the elderly pair her thoughts center around. A whirl of nervousness penetrates her stomach, her brows knitting together subtly. 

What if they've changed? What if they're just like Dad?

But as she meets the warm brown eyes of Nana from afar and notices the giant, surprised smile stretching across her features, all doubt withers away, and she offers a meek wave. The lady bumps the arm of the hefty man sitting next to her to gather his attention before she springs to her feet and sprints to greet Y/n, her expression contorted into one of pure bliss. A small grin tugs at Y/n's face, and she stands idle, taking into account Nana's appearance as she hurries forward. 

She’s adorning a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes down to her shins. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, fine hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only clue Y/n in on how old she must be getting, now.

"Y/n!" Nana calls out, voice brimmed with exhilaration as she dodges other pedestrians before reaching out and enveloping the h/c in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around her frame and reeling her in as close as she can. Her actions almost knock both of them to the ground, but Y/n balances herself before she can stumble and reciprocates the gesture. 

"Hi, Nana," she says, tone more genial than it's been in a long time. A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; a peaceful aroma, a mixture of strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm soon after, squeezing her grandmother’s scrawny torso with as little force as required so she doesn’t somehow injure her. 

Pops joins his wife with a notably calmer pace and snakes his arms around the two smaller individuals, his slightly yellowed teeth apparent through his beam. A stout man of classic tastes, he wears a 1950s fedora, a baby blue collared shirt, and suspenders. His hold is strong and secure and Y/n feels an almost overwhelming sense of comfort slam into her without warning. She chuckles—a soft, elated sound—and her chest is flooded with gleeful fuzziness. It's certainly an odd, foreign type of feeling, but she accepts it nonetheless. "Welcome home, kiddo."

"We've missed you so much," Nana chirps, pulling away after what has to be a solid two minutes and prompting Pops to do the same. Her wrinkled hands grasp her shoulders before sliding up to cup her face, gently tilting it upward to get a better look. A stunned expression crawls across her attributes before it’s replaced by a wider—if it’s even viable—smile. “Oh, you’ve grown so much!” She turns her head. “Phil, do you see her?”

“Aye. I sure do,” he says with a proud nod of his head. “She’s just as pretty as she was the last time she visited.” Blush dusts itself along the apples of her cheeks and she averts her line of sight, embarrassed. He chuckles. “Just as bashful, too.”

“Leave her alone.” She pivots again to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. “We’ve missed you, sweetie. It’s been too long.” Y/n nods timidly, not accustomed to being so doted on. Behind her, the wheels of the bus grind against the asphalt as it leaves shortly after the doors close, and she twists her head around just in time to see it drive away, leaving her there for the summer. There's no other place she'd rather be, and their presence is only confirming those feelings. "We have so much catching up to do! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl.” She looks back at the old woman and feels her squeeze her arm. “How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“She looks more grown-up than that,” Phil comments, and Y/n shrugs, biting her lip.

“Uh, I...turned sixteen in B/m.”

“My word!” Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. “You’re practically an adult, already!”

“Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah,” he says, and Y/n’s eyes light up at the mention of the familiar feline.

“Marshmallow?” she questions, astonished enthusiasm coursing through her, once again. “He’s still alive?”

“Why, yes, he is,” Farrah laughs as if amused by her inquiry. “Getting on up there, though. I’m a little shocked to know you remember him.”

“Of course I remember him,” she says, the volume of her voice increasing with glee. “He’s my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me...”

“I’m sure he does,” Phil says. “He was always followin’ you around. Probably cause you spoiled him all the time with leftovers.” The corners of her mouth pull upward and she rubs the back of her neck.

“Well...he needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled.”

“Very true.” Farrah smiles.

“And yet I can’t even have a dog in the house,” he grumbles playfully. “You cat lovers don’t make any sense.”

“We don’t have to ‘make sense’,” Farrah says. “Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

“Sure, sure.” He waves her off. “You treat that cat better than you do me.”

“Well, you’re not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?” She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs.

“I can lay in your lap if that’s what you want.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, c’mon woman, make up your mind!”

“My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear.” She tugs Y/n to her and begins walking toward the grey-blue Toyota Corolla that sits motionless in the parking lot, and the teenager follows, readjusting the bags hanging on her shoulder. 

“You want me to carry those for you?” Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widening, taken off-guard by the abrupt offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

“N-no thanks, Pops. I got it.”

“Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy.” 

“Um...clothes and stuff,” she replies quietly as they reach the 2007 vehicle, Nana shuffling into the passenger's seat and Pops opening the back door for her. She tosses her luggage to the opposite side and climbs in, smiling up at him to signal that she's done. He nods in acknowledgement and shuts the door, soon claiming the area behind the steering wheel and cranking the engine. The interior of the car smells like lavender, thanks to the cardboard air freshener swaying below the rear-view mirror, and the beige-toned leather lining the seats is torn in various places, no doubt because of how many years it has under its belt. 

"You got any'a that modern technology that kids use nowadays?"

The air conditioning blasts through the vents to cool the space as he puts the car in reverse to back out of the lot before shifting the gear, navigating between other automobiles, and driving onto the highway. Y/n clicks her buckle into place and twiddles her thumbs, jerking her shoulders up lightly, though she knows he won't be able to see it. "I—I mean, I have a cellphone, if that's what you're asking..."

"A cellphone, huh?" He eyes her in the mirror and she shrinks away meekly, unsure of how to react to the sincere attention. "We have one of those. Don't really know how to work it though."

"You sure do know your way around Solitaire for someone who doesn't know how a phone works." Nana's light jab makes him scoff playfully as he stares through the windshield observantly. 

"You know what, Little Miss Sassypants? Yeah, I do. That app is the only reason I ever even pick it up."

"And when you do, you're playing it for three hours straight."

"It's enjoyable!" Huffing, he shoots her a glare of faux annoyance. "Don't act like you ain't got things that you spend hours at a time doing."

"My hobbies are productive, as opposed to yours, so that excludes me from this discussion."

"That sounds like code for 'I know I'm losing so I'm gonna back out now before I'm called out on it'."

"False." She flattens out her skirt and narrows her eyes at him. "I don't speak in code, dear."

He laughs gruffly at that sentence, plainly not buying her words. "Keep thinkin' that, sweetheart." 

The frisky banter has Y/n failing to suppress a grin, having forgotten how well her grandparents get along, and why they've stayed married for almost sixty years. If only Mom and Dad had that kind of chemistry. Maybe then their home wouldn't be so void of love and life every waking moment. 

"So how was the trip, Y/n?" Nana twists around to the best of her ability to catch a glimpse of her granddaughter, seeming to completely brush the mini argument aside and spare Y/n her undivided recognition, eyes touching base with her own. 

"It was okay," she mumbles, voice just loud enough for them to understand her. "I'm ready to stop riding for a while, though."

"I'm sure. You traveled a long way. I'm glad you stayed safe."

Pops decides to contribute to the conversation. "How's your dad doin'?"

Her face scrunches up faintly as she racks her brain for a suitable answer that won't draw any concerned feedback. "Uh... He's busy. Him and Mom both."

"Figured that much. Probably why they're leaving the country in the first place, huh?"

Her gaze drops to her knees. "Yeah..." 

"Do they do that often?" Nana asks, her tone curious. "Take trips for their job?"

"That's like, forty percent of what they do..." She registers the car turning left sharply, onto a dirt road that leads into a capacious patch of forestry. They pass a faded blue and white sign, and the letters in bold printed across its surface reveals: Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Wow, almost there already.

"But, um...it's usually not so far away," she continues her previous statement as they drive over gravel and rocks in their path, making the ride a little bumpy. "Not usually for such a long time, either."

"They still workin' for the same company?" Pops says. If Y/n were to listen extra closely, she'd be able to detect the tiniest hint of enmity masked within his voice. She blows a bubble into her cheek.

"Yeah, but it got sold to another corporate body a couple years ago and they changed a lot of things. So both of them have been on duty a lot more since then."

"I bet that's been stressful." 

"It's..." She could speak the truth, but the truth would dampen the mood, so she goes for a lighter alternative. "It's fine. They don't mind some extra work. Just means more money in the bank."

Pops mutters something under his breath, but Y/n can't decipher it. She can only assume it isn't anything particularly nice, based on the conversation that elicited it. 

Before she can dwell on it for too extensive of a period, a familiar, Victorian-style cottage becomes visible, and a ghost of a smile sweeps across her features as she perks up. Around the house lies a white picket fence, fringed with beautiful flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and coiled themselves around each individual post, giving it an engagingly untamed appearance.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door perches an intricate white arch made of wicker and intertwined with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a muted shade of cyan, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the glittery stream of sun. The window frames are white, their shutters open to allow optical access inside of the home, and stained glass roses rim the transparent pane.

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales crept out of its pages and sprung into existence, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for Pops to guide the Toyota off the road so she can jump out and get re-acquainted with it all.

I forgot how incredible this place was... She unbuckles, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation as the car comes to a stop in their driveway, a few feet from the gate and underneath a willow tree. She extends her hand hastily to grasp the door handle and swings it open, the early summer breeze caressing her skin as she hops out, the bottom of her shoes making contact with vivid green grass. She steals a big whiff of the unpolluted air, natural scents swirling through her nostrils as she drags her belongings out of the car and slings them over her shoulder once again.

Nana copies her movements and Pops isn't too far behind her. She gives her an encouraging pat on the back, then motions for her to trail after her as she moves toward the arched gateway, unlatching it to grant her entrance. "Wait till you see the dinner I'm whipping up, Y/n," Nana says as they walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble. "You still like pineapple casserole, right?"

"Yes," Y/n says with no hesitation, the very image of the dish making her mouth water. Although she hadn't had the privilege of eating it in years, one thing she can remember clearly is how delicious it was—then again, everything Nana cooks is delicious, so maybe that point is moot. On either side of the orderly pathway are two rows of tulips, comprising pink, white, red, and violent, perfectly maintained. It astounds her how her grandparents can keep the garden so alluring while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape. They surely tidied up before she arrived, but they're also the kind of people who like a neat living space, so she doubts they had to do much. 

"I'm so happy to hear that!" She claps cheerfully as they reach the painted oak door, and both females make room for Pops as he conquers the porch stairs and wrenches the screen toward him, the creaking of its old and unoiled hinges evoking a sound similar to a screech. He rifles around in his pocket, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the entrance, holding it open as his wife and granddaughter stride through. 

Y/n examines the property in wonder. Along the floor lies a hand-knitted rug, shaped like a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. On her left is a vacant doorway to the living room, with a vintage floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the front door are two chairs; one matching the couch and the other a darker, less feminine material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and beneath it is a hickory plank floor.

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a wooden table and four chairs slid neatly on every side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are transparent and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight ahead is a linear staircase;  she remembers it leading up to the bedrooms and the second bathroom. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that curls around the edges of the room; the refrigerator and the oven both fit snugly.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs, and in the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses, a casserole dish, and a couple of pots.

The fragrance of honeysuckle crawls into her nose, as well as the smell of a currently-cooking turkey, mixing and creating a rainstorm of nostalgia. She almost cries from raw mirth. I really missed it here...

“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new—but amicable—surroundings. “If you need me, I'll be finishing up dinner.” Y/n gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that bombard her.

Her eyes sweep over everything in reverence as she comes to a halt in front of the staircase, glimpsing back at her grandmother with a sheepish demeanor and parting her lips. “Um...am I staying in Aunt Darcy's old room? Or somewhere else?” A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah’s eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

Farrah nods as Pops shuts the door, blocking the bright sunlight and capturing the area in a bit more darkness. “Yes, that's where you can sleep, store your things, anything. Of course, your dad's room is available too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly band posters."

She breathes a quiet laugh. “Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy’s room will be fine." She spins on her heel and begins her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The concept of being in her father’s childhood bedroom doesn’t sit right in her stomach. “Thank you, Nana.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags?” she questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y/n’s ears. “They look awfully heavy.”

“No, it’s okay, I got ‘em,” she reassures, attaining the top step and taking a moment to pilot the somewhat narrow space before her. On the floor is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway; to her immediate right is a small, polished table that supports a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left ajar, divulging a bit of the interior and reminding her that this is indeed where she’s going.

She uses her free hand to push it open, lighting up when she wanders inside. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, with a floor crafted out of ash wood planks that complements the design and hues nicely. On the opposite side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubbyhole into the wall and at a direct angle next to a window. Built into the wall are two bookshelves, both on either side of the bed and filled with colorful books of assorted sizes.

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer which she recalls to be a trundle bed. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with some twine. In one corner, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside to cushion it. To her right is a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer clinging to its top edge. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernible.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A chipped desk sits pressed against the wall, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp stands atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools; a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a glass paperweight, and a mirror.

She releases an inaudible sigh, the corners of her lips quirking up into a content smile as she walks further inside, depositing her bags on the bed and doing a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation arises within her chest; one she hasn’t experienced in far too long. She turns her head and gazes through the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun’s stunning yellow beams peer down through the towering trees.

She unzips her duffle bag and removes a pile of clothes from the main compartment, busying herself over the course of the next thirty minutes. The walk-in closet isn't huge but still larger than she remembered, meaning there's plenty of space to store all of her clothing pieces. She takes note of the fact that a vast majority of her aunt's stuff is no longer here, and she presumes Nana removed them to create space or Darcy herself came by and collected everything. Y/n hangs a good half of her items and keeps the rest folded, stuffing them into the shelf of drawers across from the door. She refrains from unpacking her art supplies and other accessories just yet, as it would feel weird and wrong to get so comfortable here after so little time. 

After throwing her—now empty—bag into the corner, her stomach rumbles and she concludes that the last thing she ate was a honey bun, and that was hours ago. Yearning to ease her mild sense of famine, she pivots, leaves the room, and descends the stairs, once again being swathed by the pleasant smell of food, only this time, it's much more intense.

Farrah sends Y/n an affectionate smile as she turns off the oven and waves her in. “Hi, sweetie. Are you settling in okay?” The teenager nods, letting the smell lure her, and steps inside.

“Yes, ma'am. I had forgotten how nice this house was.” The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates on the counter and passing it to her. She takes it in her hands and shoots her a look of gratitude.

"It isn't as clean as I would like it to be, but oh well. I'm too old to dust away every little cobweb." She sighs in disbelief, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I should hire a maid."

"That might be a good idea. You don't wanna overdo yourself." Nana occupies herself with making a plate of food for her husband, listening to Y/n talk and humming along. "But, uh...while I'm here, I'd be happy to help you with anything you have to get done."

"How sweet of you to offer, N/n." She grins as she scoops a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto the dish. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, please—eat something. It's all ready."

"Thanks for this, Nana." She finds her way around the woman and gets a serving of everything—potatoes, turkey, rolls, pineapple casserole. The thought of indulging herself makes her want to melt. "It smells delicious." 

"Oh, you're so welcome, dear." She pours a glass of milk for Pops and offers a toothy smile. "I hardly ever get to cook for anyone besides your grandfather and myself. This is an honor."

Y/n feels compelled to hug her again, but ultimately resists the urge, not wishing to take a chance on spilling the food being held in both sets of hands. Tears threaten to rim her eyes, her grip tightening on the plate. Such displays of selflessness is a stranger to her, but she cherishes every second of it. "I love you, Nana."

She fails to see the way Farrah's heart swells at her words, her face contorting into one of deep adoration. "Oh, I love you too, Y/n—me and Phil both. So much. And we're so happy you wanted to come visit us."

After a short exchange of smiles, Nana departs and Y/n finishes gathering her meal, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge and heading into the dining room, noticing Pops already sitting at the table, silently awaiting his own share of food. She lowers herself into the chair opposite him, the steam from the hot meal floating up into her face and making her eager to taste it. 

“Hello, young lady,” he greets, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. “This house treatin' you okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies with a slight dip of her head.

“Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you’re used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your expectations.” Her eyes widen almost a comical amount and she stares at him as if he’d attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes with her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

“No, Pops, it does. The country’s amazing.” She brushes a strand of h/c hair behind her ear and swallows the flavorful vegetable. “City life isn’t that good. Honestly, I’d rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse.” A large, satisfied smile takes residence on his wrinkled features and his eyes crinkle up before he laughs blissfully.

“You hear this, Farrah?” He regards the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her spouse and passing his plate to him. “This girl hasn’t been tainted yet. We should keep her here, make sure she stays that way.”

A kind grin etches across her lips, though she dismisses him. “I don’t think her parents would approve of that, Phil.”

“No, they wouldn’t care,” Y/n murmurs in response, noticing the pitying looks being thrown her way, and she eats a forkful of casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that’s fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the platter in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sweetie.” Farrah’s voice is tender and reaffirming. Y/n only shrugs.

“They'd probably forget I was here at all, after a while. Too caught up in their own lives to really remember something like that.” Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b/c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just watches her with sympathy.

“That’s shameful,” he starts, his voice flooded with disdain. “You're their daughter. How could they just forget about you?"

“I...I don't know. They just can, and have gotten pretty great at it, too.”

“When did all this start, sweetheart?” the old woman questions, sipping her drink.

“A few years ago, I guess...” It’s silent for several moments and Y/n wishes she wouldn’t have even interjected at all. Perhaps she just feels that she can tell them anything. Way to ruin the mood, genius.

“Hun, they’re not...abusing you, or anything, right?” The teenager can sense the reluctance in her words as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, and Y/n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

“N-no, Nana, don’t worry. Nothing like that.” She releases an audible huff of air, relieved.

“Don't they spend time with you or anything?” Phil asks, leaning forward and facing her with agitation. She scours her brain for a coherent reply.

“Uh...no, not—not really.” She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to shroud the hurt found in her own. “They hardly even talk to me. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Dad’s always too busy and Mom is...” She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously taps her foot against the floor; a nervous habit she's taken to whenever her anxiety levels rise.

Her mind flashes with images of her mother sneaking out in the dead of the night. When asked about it, she'd snap at her, insist it was for 'business', and leave it at that. She remembers that one time she borrowed her phone to email her teacher, since hers had stopped working the previous day, and instead got notified of a message, received from a man with an unknown name. Initially, she believed it was a coworker or friend, but the contents of said 'message' involved raunchy flirting and, upon opening his contact, these advances were heavily reciprocated, and he wasn't the only one. It made her sick to her stomach. Sure, she was aware that Mom and Dad weren't exactly at a healthy place in their marriage, but she never thought one of them would actively cheat on the other. Those actions were guaranteed to ruin a family, yet her mother didn't seem to care in the least. 

Her foot makes a soft thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. “Uhh... Keeping secrets.” Phil and Farah share a glance.

“What kind of secrets, darlin’?” her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. Does she really want to say this?

“I—I think, well, uhm... She’s cheating on Dad.” She doesn’t look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they’ll judge her and her parents. “I mean, the way she's been acting, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I’ve caught her before but she just got mad and said it was ‘business-related’.” She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Plus, Mom and Dad haven’t gone on a date in forever. And I don’t know, it’s just...worrying.”

“Sweetie,” Farah starts, and Y/n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adopted, “that kind of behavior is unacceptable.” She shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. “We need to talk to them about this.”

“No,” she interjects, finally meeting Farrah’s eyes with frightened e/c ones. “They can’t know I told you all of this. They—they’ll hate me.”

“If this is true, something needs to be done,” Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in distaste. “You don’t need to be in a house with two people that are so unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us.” Although the thought of living in a house with her loving grandparents sounds fantastic, she refuses by shaking her head again and speaking in a tremulous voice.

“N-no, it’s alright. I can deal with it.” Although her parents don’t seem to care about her anymore, she would most definitely shatter whatever remnants of a relationship they still have between the three of them if they were to find out what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want her parents to despise her; that would be a horrid feeling. And she wants to avoid experiencing it.

The rest of the dinner goes by at a leisurely pace for the girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more lighthearted subjects to cheer her up, and it moderately works. They ask her about school, her friends, whether she’s in a relationship yet, to which she responds with valid answers: “It’s good”, “I don’t have friends”, and “No”. It makes itself more apparent to them with every reply she isn’t living a normal, decent life. But they figure it’d be best not to pry too much. After all, she’s here for a break, not to be harassed with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after swallowing the final bite, pushes the chair back under the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling full and tired. Her gaze shifts to the window, perceiving the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is setting below the horizon and darkness will soon replace its blaze of light.

“Marshmallow is probably waiting outside if you wanna let him in for the night,” the woman hollers from the dining room as Y/n discards her dishes in the sink and rinses them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won’t bear witness to it.

“Okay, Nana.” She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and props them in the plastic drainer resting on the counter-top before walking a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and nudging it open, being welcomed by a cooler evening gust of wind.

She glances around the small porch and can’t help but smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face to clean himself. He peers up at her curiously, and she approaches at a gradual pace to avoid scaring him.

“Marshmallow? You remember me?” She sticks her hand out and lets him sniff her fingers before fondly rubbing his head. “It’s Y/n. I haven’t been back for a while.”

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he’s receiving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her neck and she can hear distinctive purring; a sound she hasn’t heard in years.

“Aww,” she coos, unable to stop herself from coddling the furry creature. “I missed you, too, little buddy.” She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door behind her, nearly colliding with Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass with a few droplets of liquid remaining.

She takes notice of Y/n and grins at the sight. “Ah, see? We told you he’d remember you.” The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and bumps her on the arm, making her chuckle.

“Yeah. He’s just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly.” As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles warmly as she places the plates in the sink. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No, thank you, hun.” She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. “You just spend some time with the fur baby. Finish settling in.” Y/n feels Marshmallow struggle against her hold, so she crouches and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump down and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl.

“Are you sure? You know I don't mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re the spawn of my son,” she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. “It’ll be fine, sweetie. I’ve got it covered for now. You go and relax.” Y/n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won’t do her any good to argue about it. Emitting a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles toward the staircase.

“Okay...but, tell me if you need help?”

“Stop worrying. You’re the guest here.” Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unaware that she’s being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her backpack to move it off her bed. As she twists around to walk to the desk, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who's rubbing against her leg, and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat.

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the unexpected adrenaline rush that swamps her system, but once she does, she scoffs. “Trying to trip me already?” She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his hind feet as a response. “Silly cat.”

Marshmallow finds a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag as she finds a place for her bag and goes to sleep rather swiftly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring the ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many grim things have happened since then.

Sitting on the bed, her eyes drift out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can’t help her entrancement of the scenery and feels a trace of disappointment that she hasn’t seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and surveys it, blended emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

Yeah. There's nothing to worry about.

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 13: Mononucleosis First Aid Kit (M)

A huge thank-you to @xghostlightx for letting me borrow Claire for this prompt! <3 I love her, and getting to use her and explore the dynamic that has otherwise only lived in our DMs was a lot of fun

There is no snz in this one, I'm sorry to say, so this is really more whump fic than sickfic. Heat related illness, a little bit of banter. 2.4k

⁂

Staff events at the university are among the more grueling tasks they ever place upon him as a faculty member. Today's, an array of booths laid out in the plaza advertising various programs to potential students is, naturally, on a day so blisteringly hot that it's convinced even him to be wearing shorts and a branded polo they're all expected to wear, much to his utter chagrin and ceaseless loathing. He checks his watch with a grimace. Three more hours of this farce. No one who isn't already interested is going to see a group of sweaty, miserable professors debasing themselves to give a sales pitch for their program and decide they're going to enroll. If they want to enter the medical program, especially, they've already decided.

He takes a sip from his bottle of water, and eyes the chair that's been sitting abandoned for the better part of an hour. The Dean is stalking the tents, badgering anyone that takes a seat and looks less than fully enthused to the point of absurdity. He isn't keen on getting needled for this particular infraction again, but sitting down even for a moment may be well worth it. He didn't earn tenure to be treated like an underpaid cashier and prevented from doing something so simple as sitting when it's a hundred damn degrees outside and the humidity makes it feel hotter still.

But that's one of the many joys of being a department head--if he isn't here, apparently this entire affair will crumble to dust. He must be here the entire time, but his fellow colleagues are only here for shifts, an hour at a time and then rotating out for much-needed time in the air-conditioned building, instead of underneath a canopy that may as well be a greenhouse the way it's doing nothing to keep the heat out.

The sweat dripping down the back of his neck is a sensory nightmare--wiping it across his skin, even more so. He is doing everything in his power to avoid touching his own skin like this, to feel how he's a sweat-soaked nightmare. A bead of it hangs from the tip of his nose, threatening to get pulled in with each breath. He wrinkles his nose against it, against the grating irritation of it teasing at his nostril.

Thankfully, the antihistamine is holding up well. They haven't mowed the grass in a couple of days, and the pollen levels are low. He may not have even needed one this morning, but it's easier to keep ahead of things than to try and play catch-up once symptoms have already begun.

He will be alone for the next hour, save for the scant few students who are stopping by mostly for the free water on the table, and the Dean, who he anticipates may have a heart attack and die from the stress of attempting to boost flagging admission rates over the last several years. He affords himself the luxury of sitting down on the chair, some wretched canvas folding chair that will bear his weight, but not without complaint.

"My my! Sitting on the job, huh? What a slacker." Dr. Lieberman is obnoxiously bright and cheerful as she comes bouncing up and steals a bottle of water. "They left you all alone over here?"

"Dr. Lieberman." He is acutely aware of a bead of sweat rolling lazily down the back of his neck. "I do believe the humanities department is set up on the opposite end?"

"It is, but I'm on a break, and came to see what our dear, sweet doctor was up to." He scowls, and the expression on her face is nothing short of shit-eating. "I don't know who you are. I don't think I have ever seen your bare shins before--or in anything other than oxfords made from the leather of a baby calf who ate nothing but gold leaf in its time on earth. I feel like you're naked right now."

She, for her part, has rolled the sleeves of her polo up in a way that makes it more like a tank top, tattoos on full, brazen display to the world. There's a faint pink to her skin, speaking to an encroaching sunburn that has yet to fully take root. He considers extolling the virtues of sunscreen, but she knows it, and he doesn't find that he has the particular energy nor desire to do something that would be merely to say he had done it than to effect change.

"Take your fill of the view, because you will never see it again." He would rather gnaw his own arm off like a coyote in a trap than to be dressed like this by choice, let alone to do so again in the future. Especially if anyone is able to be privy to it. It's already a difficult enough time convincing himself to do it for hiking, and this is only permissable because he cannot convince himself to ruin perfectly good clothing with an activity that is known to be dirty and hard-wearing. This is his sole pair of shorts, and sole pair of tennis shoes, and they see relatively useful use outside of whatever weekend is too poor of weather to fish but too nice of weather to permit himself to squander it sitting in his home.

"I don't blame you for choosing the shorts route--this may be what it feels like in one of the circles of Hell. Which one had all the flames?"

"The sixth."

"Then we're definitely in the sixth." She presses the bottle to the back of her neck, and sits down in the abandoned chair beside him. "What great sin are you guilty of, Doctor?"

"If we're in the sixth, we're guilty of heresy. I might be accused of something different, though. Perhaps pride, or wrath."

"I can see you as a pride guy, yeah." She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I don't think I've convinced a single person to actually major in psychology. I don't know why we do this--especially as an adjunct. Shouldn't this be the job of you fine men and women with tenure and offices and, I don't know, more seniority or whatever?"

"I don't know why I'm here, even as a department head. Perhaps especially as one of them. Surely my time is more valuable than to be sitting here baking to death in the heat while a handful of this nation's prospective future doctors decide to take a flyer and a bottle of water and go to bask in the air conditioning." He grits his teeth, steeling himself for the feeling of sweat-on-skin and wipes at the back of his neck.

His skin isn't the hot, sticky thing he expects, but rather something cooler, clammier. Ah. Yes. Well, that would explain the headache, too.

"Claire." Her actual name seems to snap her to attention, startled from their mutual kvetching and people watching. "Get me the first aid kit."

"Why?" Despite the question, she wastes no time in actually following direction. She hefts it up onto the table, the bright red plastic an eyesore against the sterile white of the plastic tablecloth that's fluttering in the weak breeze of the little fan someone clipped to the edge of it earlier.

He clears his throat, uncaps his water and takes a drink of it. "Do you remember our seminar earlier this month, in preparation for this?"

"I--sort of. Mostly. I remember the broad strokes of it."

"There should be a couple of instant cold packs in there, labeled and easy to see. Two or three of them, if no one's taken any out already. Grab them."

"Oh!" Now she's getting it. She's no fool, nor is she someone who's slow on the uptake. "I've gotta tell you, if you die of heat exhaustion, it's really gonna put a damper on convincing anyone we can teach them anything about medicine."

"I wouldn't die of heat exhaustion, I'd more likely die of heat stroke, or some complication of my blood pressure."

"Oh, well in that case it's so different." He can hear the eye roll, even without seeing her.

He unbuckles his watch, sets it on the table, and unbuttons the collar of his polo. She looks like he's bare ass nude in front of her at the faint glimpse of his chest hair. "What are you, a prude? Here I thought a punk would be more body positive."

"Why are you taking your clothes off?"

"Loosening clothing." He would rather risk actually dying right here under this ugly tent than to have to undress in front of her--or, god forbid, in front of any random passerby. "The ideal thing to do would be to bathe in cool water or ice water, but I am not walking to the athletics department and using their shower."

"So what's the second to ideal?"

"Loosening clothing, as a first step, and then cooling me off. We're going into the air-conditioned building, and you get to sit with me and closely monitor my condition."

"As fun as sitting outside in the heat sounds, I think I'd rather take the babysitting a sweaty man so he doesn't die."

"Stop saying that I'm going to die. It isn't your judgment call to make, and I'm giving you mine that my life isn't in danger. We are taking appropriate steps within an appropriate timeframe." He grabs another bottle of water from the table and trudges towards the doors to the building, ignoring the looks from colleagues as they pass.

"Okay, fine, you won't die. My aid and boundless medical knowledge combined will see you through." He can feel her anxiety radiating off of her like a dog that knows it's being taken to the vet. "We'll just sit together until you feel better."

"I wouldn't let you leave even if you wanted to."

The door to his office is locked, and it takes him a second longer than he'd like it to to actually get it open. "Okay, so what am I--oh my God?"

She is, evidently, taken aback by the fact that he's taken to removing his shirt. There is nothing he wants to be doing less than this, but he would prefer this to heatstroke measures in an hour if he doesn't respond to these ones. The aches are starting to set into his muscles, not yet cramping but uncomfortable and threatening to lean that direction.

Sweat clings to him like a second skin, wetting the layer of hair across his chest and stomach, while a pair of lines that arc beneath his nipples where the hair doesn't grow. The scars themselves have faded into near obscurity, but the mark they left behind unable to truly be removed with time. He grimaces at the fact that he is being borne witness to, even as she tries to avoid looking at him as much as possible.

Goosebumps cover his exposed skin as he awkwardly sits himself down on the floor with a grunt, and then leans back until he's laying down with his feet rested on the seat of his desk chair. It's hardly comfortable, that doesn't get a chance to factor in at this particular moment in time. He squeezes one of the packs till it bursts, and wraps it in his shirt to lay under the back of his neck. The others he's willing to tempt fate and apply directly to his skin, if only briefly.

"Where do these go, usually?" She follows his lead, squeezing the packs and shaking them more violently than is really required. "I can put them on you, if it helps."

"The groin--"

"Okay, I'm going to amend that statement actually. Anywhere except there."

"--under the arms, on the back, the neck. You'll be watching me for signs of distress, confusion, loss of consciousness; if I appear to you to be worsening, or not improving within the next hour, then it is your responsibility to overrule any objections I may raise and call emergency services. Your job of 'babysitting a sweaty man' is more to be monitoring me and using your judgment in the event mine is questionable."

She frowns, and for a moment he wonders if she's going to reject the responsibility of his wellbeing. "Alright." She doesn't want to look at him yet, but she does sneak a little glance uncomfortably.

"You are aware that you'll have to be looking at me to monitor me?"

She looks torn between a laugh and a grimace. "I know. I just--it's strange."

He rolls his eyes. "I never took you for the shy type."

"It's not that I'm shy, it's just--different when it's you. I don't want to see you, and you don't want to be seen. A body is a body is a body, but this isn't a body, it's your body." She does, however, manage to make eye contact with him.

"Your sentiments are thoughtful, but unhelpful. I would rather you look at me and accept that I am a husky, sweaty, hairy adult man who is currently heat exhausted instead of attempting to spare us both the discomfort. I think we will both find this more pleasant than the sight would be of my body being exposed in a hospital instead of the floor of my office."

She awkwardly takes a seat on the floor beside him, then lays down flat on her back at his side, kicks her shoes up on the corner of his desk. "I guess we can both lay down. It'd look weird if you were by yourself, at least this way we look like we're doing something intentional."

"If anyone sees what we're doing, I'm resigning effective immediately."

"Joseph?"

"Dr. Lieberman."

"You're going to be fine, right?"

He huffs a laugh, the sound of it fatigued and without any joy, and looks over at her. "I will be. I'm aware that I look bad, and that having this responsibility foisted upon you is nerve-wracking, and while I don't want you to think that there is no danger, or that this is merely a practicality, but I also don't want you to be consumed with anxiety over it."

She reaches over, awkwardly touches his bare forearm with a little pat that sees her instinctively wiping her hand on her shorts in the aftermath. "No consumption. Just a normal, well-moderated, situationally appropriate amount."

"Good." Thankfully, he doesn't feel entirely hellish. He certainly isn't feeling right as rain--far from it, really--but he's at least secure in the feeling of starting to recover a bit. He's no longer necessarily concerned with heatstroke, now he's merely dealing with the heat exhaustion itself.

They lapse back into silence, slightly more comfortable this time than before.

[fuctacles]

chapter 4 is up!! I'm getting to @penny00dreadful's art I PROMISE. Beta @dragoon-ze-great Easter egger @pumpkinspiceeddie extra brain cell @blasvemous

"Will and I lifted a car last month. Dad was pissed." 

El was someone they'd mostly kept tabs on through others. Whenever they had to save the world, they ended up in different places, and while they were good friends, they talked mostly at family gatherings. The last they heard from her, she hadn't fully regained her powers but could do some small things here and there.

Robin stares at Steve. Since she was the last to join The Party, she knows El the least and hasn't seen her in action after the Mind Flayer. But the Will part? Neither of them had any idea about it. The new information is impressive and more than what they've been hoping for,

Steve eases the phone from her hand, trying to curb his excitement.

"What else can you do?" he asks. "The spying thing? Opening gates?"

"I don't spy," El protests indignantly. "But yes. I've been checking on Max and Lucas on their road trip. But I haven't tried to open a gate. Why the heck would I do that?"

That's a good question and Steve isn't sure how to form his answer. Thankfully, Robin intercepts the phone from him.

"We might have found someone stuck like Will had been. Is there a way you could check the house around us? See if you can find him, feel anything? Uh," she falters, glancing at Steve. "You can do that, right?"

El hums.

"I think so. I can try, but I might need Will for that, and he's not home."

Steve's hope falters. While El has been staying with Hopper and Joyce, as none of them see the need to part, Will has been pursuing art in college. He briefly lived in New York, even, but the loud place hasn't been to his liking.

"Where is he now?" 

"He's at school. But he'll be back next weekend."

"Okay. Can you call us as soon as you find anything?"

"Sure. I'll do the rounds today and talk to Will. Have you told Dustin yet?"

Steve huffs with a roll of his eyes. 

"Of course. I wouldn't hear the end of it if I didn't."

She laughs softly. 

"Yeah. Are you guys still in the same apartment?"

"No," Steve admits, with a peppering of guilt in his voice. "I bought a house. With that trapped guy inside. Well, in the Upside Down version of the house, I guess. We're like, halfway between Hawkins and Indianapolis."

El hums at the information.

"Okay. Will there be a housewarming party?"

Steve blinks, stunned at the sudden change of topic. Next to him, Robin snorts out a surprised laugh.

"As soon as I figure out the renovations, yeah."

"Cool! Can't wait to see everyone again. I'll call you later."

"Yeah, later."

She hangs up and he stares at the receiver for a second before putting it down as well.

"She is so weird," he mutters, shaking his head with a smile.

"I don't know, seems pretty normal to me."

"Yeah, to you."

They go back to the living room to find a new message on the typewriter.

Not that Ive been eavesdropping or anything but did she say SHE LIFTED A FUCKIGN CAR?

"Uh, no." Steve crosses his arms. "She and her brother had lifted the car," he corrects Eddie. 

Sorry for not being specific enough. Can you tell me again how you know a girl with superpowers?

"It's a long story."

Time is all I have

Steve sighs, falling onto the couch. 

"Well, I think it started in the fall of '83, I mean, for us at least..." he starts but can sense the look Robin's giving him, so he turns to her. "What?" He frowns. 

His lip reading isn't the best unless it comes to his best friend, so he's pretty confident she just mouthed to him, "You're gonna freak him out."

"How?" he mouths back.

Guys? Eddie types, but they barely spare him a glance. 

"Demogorgons?" she reminds him incredulously. Steve rolls his eyes but thinks about it for a bit.

"If he hasn't seen one for this long, I think he's safe," he states, this time out loud. 

Robin cocks her head.

SAFE FROM WHAT

"I guess you're right." She shrugs eventually. "Go on, then."

Steve turns to the typewriter. 

"This place where we think you are, we call it the Upside Down. El was the one who opened the gate to it. There were more kids like her, but most of them didn't survive the laboratory— "

What the fuck

"I know," Steve chuckles. "Anyway. The stupid scientists let these monsters through the portal..."

He recounts the story to his best ability and knowledge, with Robin piping up here and there and taking over the Starcourt part. Eddie is silent for most of it, to the point that Steve asks halfway through the story if he is still there. 

Yeah im processing, he answers.

"...so since it's been quiet for so long, and you've been trapped since then, I think we can safely assume it's not something new. That you were a casualty from that time," Robin finishes up. "Fuck I hope it's nothing new."

so im in a mirror hell dimension full of monsters ???

"You said there were no monsters." Steve frowns.

But there could be! There is the potential of monsters!

"See, I told you he'd freak out." Robin crosses her arms and throws one leg over the other for good measure. It's probably what her more difficult students see on the daily.

Steve glowers at her. 

"Shut up, Robs. What does it look like around you?" He turns back to Eddie. "When you look out of the window?"

nothing?

Steve taps his foot impatiently.

"Describe the nothing to me."

My porch is there but beyond that its just shadows. outlines of the backyard and the trees around it. I can kind of feel the grass but can barely see it. When I step outside it doesnt feel like walking on solid ground, more like 

The keys pause as Eddie thinks. 

solidified air. I left the house once, walked til I couldnt see it anymore but it turned up in front of me. Like Ive made a huge circle. 

"Huh. That does not sound like Upside Down. No slimy veiny roots everywhere?"

No. gross

"What about the sky?"

a black void. No clouds no nothing

"Huh."

What if its something else and you cant help me?

"I think, as long as there won't be any necromancy involved, we will figure something out," Robin says.

"Yeah, we draw the line at raising the dead," Steve agrees with a nod. "So you better be alive out there."

For the first time, I hope I am

read on ao3

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 12 : Painful Desperation

[𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 14 , 9:35 𝐀𝐌 , 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐑𝐨𝐰/𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲]

Danny was eating Cookies and sharing it with his new found alley Friends Red Hood Introduced him to, they've gotten along and Ellie too was having fun. They loved Dante's cookies as well.

"Robert! Give that back!" Danny yells out as he and his friends play, "Come Get It! Haha!" Robert his new best friend that reminded him of Sam says whilst laughing.

There were 4 of them including Ellie, Running around the streets happily knowing they are not to be harmed because of being In Crime Alley and protected Near Red Hood's Turf. Everyone in the complex knew the 3 were Sorta Metas and Dante also became known as the Apartment Complex's Main Protector and a very kind person after He started dating Red Hood so they were very well liked.

Danny saw white vans from across the street not too far from them, "Danny! What are you staring it?" Ellie asks him. "Nothing.. it's just like... We're being watched.. but probably not.." Danny says Cautiously, "Oh Please! We're in Your Big Brother's Turf they won't hurt us!" Robert Interjects and Amy Nodded Profusely and Enthusiastically, "They know better than to not mess with Red Hood!" Amy says proudly her chest puffed up.

Danny laughed and nodded, "I suppose. Let's just be cautious." Danny says with a soft gentle smile, he's really changed as Ellie observes... She was also not fond of the White Vans. "I'll go inside and call Uncle Red Hood just Incase!" Ellie says as she ran up the stairs to the main doors and went inside.

"Wait Ellie— Gee... She's so fast—" Danny catches the Ball Robert threw at him. "C'mon now! Don't be gloomy! Let's continue playing! The others are gonna be here soon!" Robert says with a smirk. Danny smiles and nods and kicked the ball towards them.

The van stayed still, watching Danny specifically. Although Danny was With other kids now. They striked.

As Danny was playing with the other kids and was picking up the ball from the sidewalk the Van stopped beside him and men in white suits pulled him into the back of the Van and Immediately sedated him. He couldn't react fast. "quickly Agent K, shut the doors and Agent B can Drive." One of the men in white says as he was losing consciousness fast still hearing the other kids scream out for him, panicked. Where... Where is he going...?

His eyes shut close heavy although he felt his body being carried and then thrown into a metal cold floor that reeked of ectoplasm...?... Blood...? He couldn't open his eyes but he knows he's somewhere.. he doesn't like it.. Dan please save... Him...

Danny fully lost consciousness and it was transported into the dream realm, he was having a nightmare again but Nocturn came to save him from the nightmare.

"𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕣𝕪! 𝕀𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣?" Nocturn says gently and tucking Danny's hair into his ear. "Nocturn... I can't stay here longer than I'd want... They have me... The GIW.... Agent K.. and everything..." Danny mutters as he curled up in Nocturn's Lap.

"𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟? 𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖?" Nocturn sputters as he gently caressed Danny's Face and Hair to look at him in the eyes, Danny's eyes tearing up as he slowly fades.

"ɨ'ʍ ֆƈǟʀɛɖ....... քʟɛǟֆɛ ʄɨռɖ ʍɛ." Danny says one last time before fading back into consciousness forcedfully by electrical Shocks. Danny cried out in pain, he was strapped to a metal table, his chest bare and open.

He was unable to move or even say something as a collar was attached to his mouth stuck and deep into his skin, it had no holes rendering him unable to speak or Breathe.. not like he needed to breathe but it's one of the only things that made him feel more Human. A collar was dug deep into his neck, it made his throat tight this disabling his ability to even try and speak through muffled sound. He noticed his body had subconsciously changed into his Ghost Form whilst he was asleep possibly forcibly activated or something... Just something. He doesn't know anymore.

His scream came out shallow and near silent, he couldn't resist as all his body and joints were strapped to the table as the scalpel of these scientists slice through his delicate skin. Although in his ghost form he didn't have very noticeable organs the ectoplasm of his insides still continued to hurt. His core effectively hiding itself by shrinking and hiding deep in his body.

They were looking for his core to dissect, he bled out on the floor everywhere. And all he could do was cry and silently beg for them to stop, he screamed and screamed until his body was so exhausted that he couldn't.

How long will this last? They kept him strapped and pumped up to an IV bag that contains Ectoplasm... It hurts. Please stop.. he tries to beg but no voice came out. He felt them rummage through his 'intestines' carelessly as they dissected it out of his body, everytime they took out and sliced something out of his insides he kept trying to scream. He was awake. Conscious. They forced him conscious as if to spite his existence. They think all of this is an act.

'Please' He silently begs but no one can hear his silent pleas.

Big brother... Please save me.....

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The kids were frantically telling Red Hood and Dante about how Men in White suits Took Danny as he was picking up a ball from the sidewalk until the White Van suddenly pulled up.

Some were crying, Robert wishing he'd been the one to pick up the ball instead of Danny and Blaming himself but Amy tells him and comforts him that he's not at fault for Danny getting kidnapped by strange men.

Dante was visibly livid under his face mask and Red Could feel Dante's Emotions through his core, his eyes were flashing red and his hair acting more like a wildfire. Red held his hand to distract him from the Anger he's feeling inside his chest, it was very unnerving.

"Ellie... Guard the Complex..." Dante says and looks at Ellie who nods upon receiving the order. "Babe.. they have my baby brother... Those stupid Guys in White has my brother..." Dante leans his head on Red Hood's shoulder holding back tears. Red hugs him and patting his back, "Fuck. Look. We'll find him—" Red tries to comfort his lover but Dante shook his head, "They're a government Agency Jay.... They're.... They have a LAW against us saying we're not sentient... Danny's just a kid... Fu..Fuck..." Dante broke down crying in Red Hood's Arms.

Red Hood is out of options, maybe he does need to ask help from Batman after all, no matter how much he hates it. He's desperate now. He can't imagine what they'll do to that kid... A kid that's Danny...

"Look. We'll ask the big bat for help— Nightwing says he can help. He's the only one I know who can help and break down those laws and... And save Danny okay?" Red caresses his lover's cheeks, tears rolling down from his eyes.

"Since you already know who the fuck we are because of whatever you— or we are— I'll... Look.. I'll take you to them. You have a car right?" Red Asks Sort of panicked and Dante Nodded and gave Red the Keys.

"Ellie! We'll be back late okay? Call your father—" Red Says as he drags his lover to the car and Ellie Salutes "Okay!" She tells out. Red put Dante in the passengers seat and got in the drivers seat and drives off.

"Where's Danny...? What'll happen to him? He'll be back right?" Robert asks Ellie worriedly. Ellie just looks at him, "something Bad... Something very very Bad has him.. Very Bad People who wants him because he's a meta.... He'll be Back tho... They'll make sure of it!" Ellie says full of Hope, eyes sparkling before she dials Vlad's Number. "Daddy... They have Danny. Can you come to the complex? Big brother and Uncle Jay is gonna look for him and ask for help from.. the JL..." She whispers to the phone.

Vlad groaned trying to surpress a panicked scream of "What?!" In his throat, he pinches the bridge of his nose before muttering "Fudge Buckets..." {Forever cursed to say Food Curses}.

"I hope you boil in buckets of sauce Clockwork..." Vlad curses under his breathe, very distressed about 'Clockwork's Plan for Danny's Betterment'.

It's a very gruesome and irritatingly painful process.

<33 Angsty Chapters for the heart, slow Ass Process. Tbh. Might post a 4k word chapter soon, might take a bit tho— have fun!

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume meta 6x12

Thank you wardrobe team - for giving me half a chance with the costumes this week 😂 After the insane costume levels last week, it was nice to have fewer costumes to talk about this week! Have to admit I did go off on a bit of a side quest while writing this - shout out to fridge and beer theory 😳😂🤓

I'm not going to go character by character this week because they did something really interesting with the colour palette this episode. So I'm going to break things down colour by colour and it means I'll be talking about Wendell, Tamara and Connor as well!

Firstly there were 3 main colour in use in 6x12 - red blue and grey, with a couple of secondary colours also in play - the army drab green, white and pink. There were also some very interesting parallels at play in the costuming as well - not only in relation to the text, but specifically to the shooting - we see a lot of costume references to that arc as a whole and I'll go into those as we get to them.

as always the rest is below the cut to save your dash!

Red

So in 6x12 we see red/maroon used 4 times and on all 4 occasions its being worn by someone in the role of advisor and or parent/carer.

First up we have Athena (her in a rare denim wearing occurrence!!) in a wine red turtle neck - she is filling the role of advisor for Bobby here - providing him with information pertaining to the investigation into Wendell's death. she is displaying her care for Bobby and his wellbeing - pursuing a seemingly impossible task to help him get answers - she fully understands Bobbys need to pursue the case - the potential for it to impact on Bobbys sobriety if he's unable to get answers. I've spoken before about red being an energetic and powerful colour, we see both those aspects at play in this costume - Athena has powerful information that reenergises the case for Bobby. This is Athena in supportive spouse mode.

Next up we have Maddie - very intentionally in her dispatcher uniform and this putting her in maroon/burgundy. The use of her uniform is an indicator of Maddie managing things - putting up a sort of boundary. She is managing Buck in the same way she would manage one of her calls at dispatch. I need to mention the fact that Buck is in navy blue here - that he is wearing a tee that matches his own uniform and we barely see the grey joggers because he is standing behind the kitchen island. It is important to recognise that both of them are hiding behind being 'in uniform' and we see that fact effectively erecting barriers between them - it is only when the are both out of those colours that they are able to talk and understand (I'll talk more on that later on!).

Wendell's costume here is such a choice!!! Even if we hadn't been told in the previous flashback that Wendell was ex military, we would have been able to reach that conclusion ourselves because of this costume. does it remind you o the way they've styled anyone else on the show? perhaps a certain someone with their own military background?? thats right - this costume is straight out of the Eddie Diaz costume book! long sleeve maroon henley, olive drab combat style trousers and smartish leather boots. they've given Wendell his own twist - with the metal watch and the necklaces, but the look is deliberately meant to look similar to Eddie. The general audience will subconsciously draw the association.

For me this costume and its use in this particular scene is super fascinating - a conversation about 'getting back out there' and dating around a bit and the concept of impulsivity compared with Bobby knowing that Athena makes him feel like he's on solid ground. the costume is very much helping to foreshadow Eddies story here - he's going to take the road that Wendell suggests here - date around a bit - before figuring out what Bobby already has - that he wants and already has someone who makes him feel like he's on solid ground. the show has been paralleling Bathena and Buddie for a long time now, this is just another example of them doing this, especially because Bobby and Buck have been costume paralleled a lot, as have Athena and Eddie. The fact that the show has chosen to use this scene as part of this episode where those costume parallels are especially loud is really telling, clever and shows they're having fun with the build up of this slow burn!

Eddie - Like I've said above this is some very intentional costume paralleling going on in terms of foreshadowing for Eddie in the rest of season 6. But there is also the parallel to Athena and Maddie (we can pull Maddie into the paralleling because they chose to put Chimney in blue when Maddie get's home from work). the maroon is in the red part of the colour wheel and shares many of the same attributes - mostly relating to power, passion and confidence, but also its brown undertones hint at stability and comfort as well as protection.

These are all things we see from Eddie in the two scenes - the comfort and protection Eddie offers Buck in the first scene that allows Buck to fall asleep on the couch, with those same traits combining with stability, power and confidence in the kitchen scene. Eddie is the epitome of stability from bucks perspective - the Diaz house is a stable and supportive place and Eddie is at the centre of that for Buck. The power and confidence come from Eddies knowledge of Buck, giving him the space he needs and knowing when to push, but also from Eddie himself knowing where the line is - know ing that Buck won't benefit from Eddies full honesty at this point in time.

All of that is not the only thing that shirt is hinting at. I've spoken a lot about the use of maroon on male characters specifically as a symbol of fatherhood and parental responsibility and here is no different - Eddie making Christophers lunch in the kitchen scene (is this kitchen scene .3 or .4 ?) was a very deliberate choice for the simple reason that it connects to the shooting visually - right down to the choice of putting Eddie in dark trousers - mirroring Buck when he tells Christopher about his dad being shot. The Christopher of the equation remains relevant even now - as they actually talk about the shooting for the first time - he is not directly a part of the conversation, but he is still there in the background (in much the way the will still lingers in the background).

Blue

So fun overarching fact about the use of blue in this episode - it gets progressively lighter as the episode progresses! This is something the show has been playing with a bit this season - especially in connection with Buck. It's so informative as to the journeys of Bobby and Buck in this episode.

We do also see Chimney and Tamara in blue in this episode, but only once. Chimneys is in balance to the Red of Maddie - its playing into the colour trope of couples that we've seen the show use over and over to both draw parallels between the actual couples on the show as well as draw parallels with those couples and Buddie.

Here we Have Chimney in a shade of blue he wears a lot, I think this jumper is the same on we see him in when Maddie's kitchen floods, but the lighting is very different in the two scenes and that makes it hard to be sure. it is important to note that this blue doesn't sit in the same colour spectrum of the other blues in this episode - its much more of a green blue - having peacock or turquoise undertones. this is a deliberate choice - it still allows chimney to sit in the colour blocking of blue and red that we see in this episode and in the show more widely, but it also others him - he doesn't fit into the journey towards healing that we see the others go on.

Bobby goes through a spectrum of blue like I said. this first polo is really hard to define - its under a heavy filter which gives everything a greyish yellow tone - which the show uses in most of its flashback scenes. we can see its blue, but as to the specifics of shade, its hard to tell - it is definitely towards a navy colour, but not as dark.

This is a moment when Bobby is vulnerable, but is accepting of help - a darker navy wouldn't be the right choice here - bobby is in the darkness that navy hints at, but he is also accepting the help he asked for and this lighter slightly greener tone the filter gives the shirt shows us that - the greener tone suggesting growth.

Then we move on to the shirt we see Bobby in for most of the episode. The lighter navy with a bluish grey check pattern. The Check foreshadows (as always) the problems Bobby is going to face in his hunt for the truth of what happened to Wendell.

I loved the fact that they put Bobby and Tamara in similar shades of blue for this scene. its a brighter blue - much more of an azure or ultramarine blue - much more hopeful supportive and accepting. its meant to show us that they are in the same place emotionally, but also it ties the help they received from Wendell to the two of them - pointing out that because of him they are both on the right path .

Bobby then wears full dark navy blue when the Walshes are arrested (the picture of this is down in the other colours section of this post) with the same green jacket as the one he wears when he meets up with Tamara

Then we get this grey blue shirt when we see Bobby in full sponsor mode.

As you can see the blue gets progressively lighter as Bobby progresses through the episode and we end up with him a colour that matches the check from the first shirt. I think this is intentional - that we're supposed to read it as Bobby breaking out of things that have been holding him back up to now. The other thing about this blue/grey shirt is that it's almost the same colour as the knit polo that Buck is wearing . This is telling me two things - we are supposed to make the connection between where Bobby is at and where Buck is at respectively - that they are at similar points in their respective healing journeys - something made more obvious by the two costumes being worn at the same time in their respective scenes. The other thing it's doing is reinforcing the father son aspect of Bobby and Bucks relationship - visually connecting the two of them at the same time as the script.

Buck in navy - like I said above - this is very much about reflecting Bucks LAFD uniform - especially in relation to Maddie, Josh and to a point Hen. we get to see the grey sweatpants much more when it comes to Hen, because this is the person Buck has been most honest with up to this point and then Connor - once Buck establishes he's not part of Maddies schedule!

The navy is also an outward manifestation of Bucks internal struggles with the whole dying part of his reality post lightning strike. navy is often associated with depression and with avoiding confrontation (one of the reasons its used as a uniform colour so often) and attention. Here we have a Buck who is trying to do both - avoid causing confrontation and trying to deflect attention away from himself (the script also shows us this by is his leaving a note and running to Eddies) ad well as making it obvious that Buck is struggling with his mental health and over facing up to the reality that he died.

The final costume we see Buck in is this very light blue knit polo - which has grey undertones and connects in with crash and learn and the locker room conversation Buck has with Hen - about the secret to happiness. Having seen Buck in blue or grey for all of the episode, this bluish grey merges the two colours together and implies that the two different versions of Buck - the closed off navy blue one and the honest vulnerable grey ones have merged - erring more towards the grey version of Buck than the navy one. this is a clear choice - it shows Buck accepting and embracing that more vulnerable version of himself and we see that in action when he talks to Maddie about her over the top schedule.

The other thing with this pale blue is that it ties into a series of moments we've seen from Buck since 5x18. The blue suit of Hen and Karens wedding - representing the freeing himself of Taylor, the blue shirt from the locker room conversation with Hen when we see Buck really start to think about what it is that he wants/needs to be happy and when we find out that Kameron is pregnant, and now this one. All of these are moments when Buck is making progress in figuring out what he wants and how he can find his happiness - in some ways they are like the use of Bucks white shoes - where as those are a more general representation of his journey - the smaller steps as it were, these blue outfits are bigger strides forward.

Grey

I have so many thoughts about the grey of it all in this episode!! We only see Buck and Athena in grey.

Athena wears this grey turtleneck and waterfall front cardigan combo. Grey is a neutral colour, but it is also a colour of compromise and here we see Athena essentially compromising with bobby and giving him the information he needs to get in contact with Tamara.

The ribbed grey jumper that Buck wears to Eddies house along with the lighter grey sweats is such a choice. First thing to point out- this jumper has been put on over the navy blue tee - we can see a slither of the tee in the picture below - between the jumper and the sweats (costume department for the win on little details like these!)

Grey is like I said above a neutral colour, but it is also somewhat ambiguous - because of its place between black and white on the colour chart. it is also associated with wisdom and maturity. here we have a Buck who is being mature in his recovery - being wise

The fact that the ribbing gives the jumper an air of chainmail is also an interesting thing, it hints at the idea of protection - its not the full on protection of plate armour, but it is non the less a protective layer - in this instance it is Buck both protecting himself from Maddie's overbearing (but well meant) schedule, but it also serves as a barrier for the kitchen conversation - that in between stage we've spoken of, where Buck and Eddie aren't fully ready to talk about the full implications of the shooting. Eddie reads it and doesn't go into the full truth of what he remembers - the grey jumper is the visual representation of the fact Buck is still not fully ready to talk about it (even if Eddie is).

The use of ribbing also means this jumper fits into a theory i've been keeping an eye on since 6x01 with regards to Buck and vertical stripes - you can read it at the end of the 6x01 meta if you haven't already read it. Essentially though - Buck seems to wear vertical stripes when he is emotionally imprisoned or trapped in some way. this jumper is maybe stretching the metaphor a bit, but the theory works for this scenario - Buck is struggling - reckoning with death and the emotional trauma that has brought him. Its going to be interesting to see if this continues to play out in the rest of 6b!

The final thing to point out about this jumper is the long sleeves - and this ties into the costumes of all the other characters as well - when around Buck. If Buck is wearing short sleeves everyone else is wearing long sleeves and if Buck is wearing long sleeves, then the characters he interacts with (only Eddie) are wearing short sleeves. This is significant - Buck is his most open and honest about where he is at with his recovery etc when he's wearing long sleeves and his opposite is wearing short. Eddie wearing short sleeves appears to be concealing things from Buck - much like Buck has been doing with everyone else in this episode - not being completely honest with them. its a play on the idea of Buck being good at hiding his true feelings from others - in physical form and only making himself vulnerable when he has protections in place and he's with one of the few people who can understand his trauma (Chimney is the other one but we don't see them interact in this episode!).

Other colours

Hens costume is very much carrying on her costume theme from 6x11 - which is perfect - the orange brown and green place her in the same context as we saw her last week - its a form of continuity - she is still the representation of emotional strength and optimism through the orange, the brown is still the representation of stability and the green (which has gotten brighter) is still a reference to growth and security and health. The green being more obvious this epsiode is showing us the improvement in Bucks health - Hen is the most skilled medic on the show - her being in green is a show of that in connection with other characters when the scene is not about her directly - in this case - Buck and his health post death and resurrection.

Connor is an interesting one this week, the tan/beige jacket combined with the baby pink and blue pinstripe shirt is telling me a lot of things! Firstly the beige - beige is considered a 'boring' colour and as such it is often used to mask other things - its a colour that 'blends in with the crowd' and it being worn as an outer here is very much playing into that as a concept - outwardly Connor is deflecting attention away from himself - from his own internal struggles

The pink and blue pinstripe shirt however is saying a whole lot, firstly the use of pale pink and blue - colours that often have 'baby' placed in front of them as a denotation or the specific shades - baby pink and baby blue. This automatically and subconsciously encourages the brain to think about babies - the central theme of Connors arc on the show - pregnancy, babies/children and fatherhood or pending fatherhood.

Pink has lots of meanings attached to it, but pale or baby pinks are generally considered to represent immaturity and or naivety and I think that is what its use is trying to suggest here - it is foreshadowing and hinting at Connors actual feelings around Kameron's pregnancy.Its telling us that Connor hasn't actually thought through (not necessarily intentionally) the full reality of being/becoming a father when the child is not genetically his - its hinting that that is his journey (and Bucks) for the remainder of the season and pregnancy.

Again there are lots of meanings that can be attached to blue and it comes in a myriad of shades (probably the most wide range of shades of any colour to be honest) which also impacts its meaning. The blue pinstripes here are very much of the baby blue variety there are a couple of things that I think the use of blue here is trying to tell us - firstly blue at the lighter end of the spectrum tends to be positive, it also tends to be responsible and reliable. the fact that the blue stripes 'run through' the pink - the implication being that it runs through that naivety that I spoke about a moment ago - thats essentially a good thing - its telling us that the outcomes of this arc will be positive - I'm guessing that Connor will get his head around being a dad - learning and understanding that genetics don't necessarily make a father.

The other thing we need to talk about with regards to Connor - that I spotted and I think hints at things to come is his wedding band. in the above picture he is wearing it on his right hand rather than his left - as he has done all the way up to this point. THis can only be an intentional choice - in America the most common finger to wear a wedding band on is the left ring finger (its not something that would get missed or that would be put on the wrong hand by accident). Connors wedding band changing hands is pretty telling.

Interestingly there are a few things about wearing a wedding band on the right hand instead of the left - it is common in many countries - including Peru (👀) but it is also symbolic - before gay marriage was legal, it was (and still is) common for same sex couples to wear rings on their right hands as a show of commitment. The other (and possibly more relevant reason here) is that it is a fairly common thing for people cheating on their partner to do - it can be a signal of availability. Now I'm not saying Connor is out and out cheating on Kameron, what I am saying is that his wedding ring changing hands may be a visual signal that he is struggling with his relationship and is emotionally not al in it at the moment - that he is perhaps not feeling connected to his marriage because of his struggles with the baby and not being able to emotionally invest in that aspect of his relationship at this moment.

Its going to be very interesting and telling the next time we see Connor and Kameron on screen together if the ring changes back - and if we see it on the right hand again!

Maddie in black and pink when Buck and her have an honest conversation about their individual trauma and the way its interconnected is an interesting choice the black and pink has similar vibes to the maroon and black of Maddie's uniform, except its dressed down, its more flow-y and as a result more inviting of Bucks honesty and Maddie's own admissions. The pink is representing Maddie's nurturing tendencies, but also her unconditional love for her brother. I've said before that black is a colour of power and sophistication - here those traits are showing the power of growth and sophistication is both Maddie and Buck developing and understanding the complexities of their traumas and developing better ways of dealingwih them.

I've included the picture of the shooting below at this point because I want to highlight a couple of things. I've used this picture because its the only time we can see all of what Buck is wearing - White high-tops, black socks, grey trousers and the infamous white shirt with grey pinstripes.

Tamara is the first costume hint at the shooting arc we get in the episode. the white pinstripe shirt and the white high-tops are very much a direct reference to Bucks outfit. If we look at the bigger picture here and look at both the arc and the characters as a whole then we can see clear similarities between this arc and the shooting arc.

We have an 'overdose' as the catalyst in both arcs. Charlie both being dosed by his mother and his act of overdosing her, which leads to Eddie being shot as he tries to help. Then we have Tamara - in the same position as Charlie - she's being controlled in a similar way by the Walshes through her previous drug use etc. Wendell fills the role of Eddie in this arc - he is the one that goes in to help Tamara and ends up 'shot' (read shooting up as a metaphor for being shot!) as he tries to help. Only unlike Eddie, Wendell does actually die. Tamara also fits into the same roll as Buck - she is there when Wendell dies - in the same way Buck is there when Eddie gets shot.

Bobby and Athena placed in essentially the same roles (more on Athena in a moment) as in the shooting - a bit more of a lean into Bobby solving things where as Athena was more filling that role in the shooting arc, but the outcome is the same.

The arrest of the Walshes shows Athena back in her usual colour ways of black olive drab and white, which is an important touchstone for us as viewers (especially after we spent so much time in a coma world last week), but it also plays into the shooting arc throwbacks with her costume - the leather jacket is not identical, but its almost the same as the one she wears for most of the investigation into the shooter in the season 4 arc.

Finally we get Athena in this amazing purple jacket - dark purple being a colour of magic, spirituality enlightenment and wisdom. this jacket is in its own way connected to the shooting arc - the fact that Bobby didn't let Athena in that time - when he was trying to sponsor the drunk driver from blindsided (4x09). It shows us just how far they have both come since that moment.

Finally I have to talk about Bucks white high-tops because they were very prominent in this episode. I've had the theory for a while that they represent his journey towards happiness (there is a post on my pinned post all about it if you haven't read it or want a refresher!).

He wears them all the time he's not at the loft in this episode - their most prominent appearance is on Eddies Coffee table (buck I love you but you're a heathen!!) - literally the only time you should put your feet up on the coffee table is when you are at home - never at someone elses house - this plays into the whole 'this is Eddies house, I'm not really a guest' of it all. the fact that he does so in his white high-tops is actually really important - we've never seen those shoes anywhere except the floor up to now - Buck putting his feet up while wearing them is a symbol of both him being at home/ coming home, as well as a symbol - its foreshadowing that Buck's journey to find happiness ends here - at home in the Diaz house and as a part of the Diaz family!

we also see him wearing them at the park when he is contemplating the fire that lead to him being hit by lightnin after his appointment with Dr Salazar - again this is Buck very much on his journey - he is contemplative and making progress!

And there we have it 6x12 costume meta done!! Thank you as always for reading - it really does mean the world to me that you're interested in the costuming of our wee woo show!!

As always tagged people below - if anyone wants to be added to (or removed from) the list please let me know in the comments and I'll add you to the next one! Same goes if your url has changed and the tag is no longer working 😎

Until the next episode! 💜💜💜

@mistmarauder @theladyyavilee @loveyourownsmiilee @leothil @girldadbuddie @kitkatpancakestack  @buckscurls @lemotmo @trashendence @elishareads  @clipboardsandstethoscopes @comfortbuddie @fiona-fififi  @callanee @calyssmarviss @pbandjeremiah @batgrldes  @spotsandsocks @livingwherethesidewalkends  @idontshitpostbuttheolympicpark @diazboysbuckley @sweettsubaki @shortsighted-owl @sherlocking-out-loud @dickley-buddie  @favouritealias @hearteyesdiaz  @ktinastrikesback  @princesschez75 @bucksbuddie @oneawkwardcookie  @leatherat @moniquekatie @wanderingwomanwondering  @trickster-archangel @outrunningthedark @asharadaine @ajunerose  @talespinner230 @pop-kam @swiftiebuckleys @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @butchjerry @mandzuking17 @yelenascowboys @copyninjabuckley @name-code-black-widow @rogerzsteven @bi-moonlight @wandiinha

[formerheroeswhoquittoolate]

why I'm unhappy with secret invasion: an accidental essay that turned out WAY more aggressive than I wanted it to (sorry about that)

I'm furious about how Secret Invasion is going. It feels like Marvel just went ahead with a Samuel L. Jackson vanity project, but and it's barely interesting and it's fucking with canon characterization. And it's fucking Secret Invasion! This could be meaningful! But instead it feels like it's trying to redo what TFATWS already did and did better. We already HAD a show about a global terrorist movement and the evils of white privilege, and it was actually really good, so what is this show supposed to be again? Oh. I see. It's different because Nick Fury is in it. Gotcha.

Oh, and [spoilers for ep 1 and 2]

They killed Maria Hill in the first episode. Not only did they kill her (which is bad enough from this studio, considering they've also killed Gamora, Natasha, and Wanda), but they fridged her. And not even kind-of-fridged, like with the aforementioned characters, where the death was required and mostly reasonable by in-universe circumstances, even if it was an easy out. No. Maria was literally, actually, to-the-letter fridged. They even confirm that in the dialogue of the second episode. Fury actually says that Gravik killed her to hurt him. She didn't have to die -- hell, if she wasn't going to be relevant to the rest of the show, she didn't even need to be in it in the first place! (More on that in a minute.)

And the thing is. The thing is. I would be so much happier with the show if the roles were reversed. Canon Fury is all "I still believe in heroes! There's good in people! Befriend the aliens!" He's a badass spymaster, yeah, sure, but he's also pretty optimistic about people. And then there's Maria Hill.

[Image description: Maria Hill, saying "Best advice you'll ever get from me, a dedicated law enforcement officer, to you, an amateur looking to go pro: 'Assume everyone is a broken, nightmare, garbage person and then be pleasantly surprised if it ends up not the case.' It'll save you a lifetime of disappointments."] [Image credits: Bendis and Pichelli's Spider-Man #12 (2017)]

That seems to have carried over into the MCU fairly well. And to see her? Struggling to fulfill Fury's goal after his death, operating without her mentor for the first time, trying to figure out how to reconcile his faith in the Skrulls with her natural instinct that everyone is lying all the time? To see her actually doing the work, speaking to the security committee and telling them to piss off, because Fury was in Moscow to do a hero's work and he died a hero, no further questions? To see her, the character who has long been reduced to the sidekick of male characters with a much shorter stint in Marvel's canon, fully come into her own as the protagonist of this series? It would have been perfect. We could have actually gotten a show full of espionage and intrigue instead of a hamfisted... racism metaphor? I'm not even sure at this point. This could have actually been something besides a Samuel L. Jackson vanity project. I know I said that already, but I am going to say it again. This show is here so Jackson can look cool and badass and also be a funny old man. And I wouldn't care if they weren't reducing every other meaningful character in the series to a Skrull, a corpse, or a realpolitik adversary. Like, fuck this false advertising. Maria Hill, Everett Ross, and Rhodey were all in the trailer like they were going to be relevant. As if this was going to be an interesting web of an ensemble cast. Instead, it's the Nick Fury show with a few redeeming scenes from the terrifyingly cheery British spymaster lady.

It's almost like Marvel knew no one would want to watch the show if they just straight-up said it was going to be all Nick Fury. And I haven't even started on the bullshit that was the train conversation (a whole monologue about sitting in the colored section on trains and then straight-up telling Talos there's not enough room for his people on the train? Was I the only one thrown off by that?) or the dialogue between him and Rhodey in the bar ("even when I'm out, I'm in.") or the Skrull wife reveal (which felt like it wanted to be some big important twist but it also had exactly zero setup) or... whatever is happening with Talos and Gaea. The next episode comes out in two days, and I'm still crossing my fingers that a miracle of plot will happen and it will get better. But it's going to take a miracle.

[thedo0zyslider]

For the writing asks pretty please a Zombiecleo 🥹👉👈

a zombiecleo! Just for you :]

[Writing requests lol]

Cleo hums, quickly throwing her hair into a ponytail. She's alone in the clock tower for now, the boys having gone out to do.....to do God knows what, really. Probably blowing up their neighbors, if she had to guess. But what they do doesn't matter to her. Not right now, because she's not with them!

Though she does fully expect to here TNT going off sometime soon. Maybe within in hour. TNT that could maybe be from her boys, or someone else. She won't know and it won't matter to them, either. Not unless she finds the explosion hole or asks for the story later.

It's nice, having the clock tower all to herself. Quiet, too. Minus the ticking of the towers namesake. But she barely even notices that anymore, after living here for a few now. Or, what has to be a few weeks. Cleo's pretty sure they've been here for a good few weeks. The key words there being pretty sure. Running around every night, all night, and all day will make you lose track of time. It will make the days start to blend together a bit, into one big blur of movement and running and TNT explosions and swordfights.

Kind of ironic of them, really, to lose track of time while living in a clock tower. But some things just can't be helped.

She could ask Scott how long they've been here. He's probably been keeping count, he always does. Says it helps him keep his head straight. Or, well, as straight as one's head can be in a death game. (Insert a classic Scott gay joke here about how he's never been able to keep his head straight.)

Expect she....hasn't really talked to Scott much. Not since the game had first started. Which was definitely weird for them. They'd spoken often in literally every single death game so far, if her decently foggy memories were actually right. So yeah, this was a weird thing for them, and Scott was probably kinda upset about it....

...It's just, well, he teamed up with Martyn. Martyn Littlewood, her ex soulmate, the guy who made her life living hell the last time with that stupid soulbond. She complained so much to Scott about him last time and then he teamed up with the man! She didn't know they did teaming up with ex soulmates was a thing now! Especially the ones you spent several hours a night shit-talking.

Instead of sighing dramatically, like she really wants too, Cleo just hums again. It's some tune Bdubs had made up, once upon a time. Usually it's better at claiming her down. But perhaps it's magic has faded with time. Or something stupid like that.

Scott had teamed with Martyn. Cleo was upset about it. Scott was probably upset she wasn't talking to him, and Marytn probably didn't have a damn clue any of this was going on. Pearl had been rather mercifully, and maybe purposefully, left out of all their bullshit this time. (Though she was teaming with BigB, something she could've and absolutely would do to irritate Cleo. They'd have to look into that later, after the Scott Issue was sorted.

....If it ever got sorted.)

It was a mess of a situation, but it would be fine, Cleo told themselves. It would all blow over. By the next death game they'd all be friends again. They'd all be holding hands and promising not to kill each other while knowing they eventually would. That's how it always went in this place. If you just let the problem blow over, it'll all be fine and you can all go back to being horrible people again. Easy as pie. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy, or however that saying went.

Cleo holds back a sigh for a second time, and hims for a third. She has more pressing things to think about than her possibly ruined relationship with Scott. An explosion just sounded off in the distance, and she was basically a hundred percent sure that was Bdubs screaming. Better of save her boys before they die again.

Cleo opens the door to the clocktower, makes sure her ponytail is secure, then goes to investigate whatever the hellos happening. Maybe this will help her problems blowover. Maybe she'll end up dying forver and never having to think about them again. Who knows, really.

She runs towards what is definitely Bdubs shrieking like a little girl, and starts to think the second option might be better.