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always-sleeepy-headd · 8 months ago

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Happy Birthday, Your Present Is Angst Because I'm Tired and Kinda Emo Inside

This was written for Cross's birthday ages ago and I'm only now posting it lol (Sorry!)

Summary:

It's Cross's birthday today, he wants to forget and he tries his hardest too. Although it never seems to work and just leaves him with more scars and more pain.

Cross is beginning to love that pain.

Notes:

Cross burns himself so if you don't think you can handle that I just wanted to let you know.

Also he purges and I know that's a sore spot for a lot of people including myself but I'm tiny bit of a masochist lol (I actually enjoy writing about things that have happened to me or to someone dear to me and projecting on my poor Crossyboo 😔✊)

Don't purge guys, it's not good and can seriously damage your body, and if you have before, I got you babes everything will be alright <3

Even if you're just going through a tough time right now remember everything is temporary, you and I, the world, sadness, you name it, we'll all make it through if we keep trudging on!

_________

Cross wasn't the type for celebrations, it made him nervous and want to hide under something while everyone just chatted it up like they weren't all dead.

He was sure nobody knew this year though, just like the last, and the one before that. A third unnoticed birthday is what he was hoping for when he checked the time this morning, he could go on with his usual day and hopefully not pass out again.

That was really close with Nightmare the other day, he was out training for an especially excessive time and Nightmare came in and had told him to take a break and Cross had barely registered him.

He had turned to the noise but all he heard was a ringing in his ears, he heard Nightmare's voice a second time and he was able to make it out then, "And take a shower or something."

As soon as he heard the door close he had stumbled and blacked out, it was only for barely a minute thankfully. When he got up he found himself on the floor and his heart beating quickly, thank the skies nobody had come in just then.

He had eventually managed to get up and take a shower before being called down to eat dinner, it was a very strange tradition for someone like the Bad Sanses, they always ate meals together. But honestly if you really think about it it makes sense, Horror needed to know everyone was eating, he could go into panic mode if not.

It also made it easier to figure out if something was wrong with someone, that's one of the reasons meals were dreaded in Cross's mind.

That and the fact he can barely handle eating the food, much less keeping it down, and don't get him wrong, Horror's an amazing cook... he just can't. Especially when he's already frustrated with himself.

He barely made it though dinner, Nightmare gave him a few looks but he must have chalked whatever it was up to low self worth and Cross overworking himself, which was what Nightmare thought were the only things wrong with Cross, making it so much easier for him to do what he does next.

Cross's nightly routine always starts hunched over a toilet throwing up his insides and silently crying while doing so, this was easy to do without Nightmare noticing because Dust almost always had at least a small freak out during this time of evening.

Then when he's done throwing up anything and everything he's eaten and kept down he collapses onto the floor and desperately rummages through his box of 'special' things, pulling out a lighter and lighting it across his bone.

The intensity of the heat calms him while at the same time making him restless, he needed something, something.

Anything.

He would burn and burn and he would even shed a few tears at the pain, just to do it again just to feel the heat of reality mix with fiction.

It was like a dream.

A terrible, awful, dream.

That would eventually bring him to today, he was putting on his overly complicated outfit again and would stare into the mirror as he splashed water on his face.

It was cold.

He wanted heat.

The pain of his burns hurt, he wanted more, more, anything for feeling and control, he would run them under cold water and this was the time of day Chara would say something to him. Chara would run off away from him to look for Killer to watch him play video games or mess with the others.

It was always along the lines of, "Cross, this is seriously getting bad," Or, "I think you should let that heal at least before doing it again..."

Cross didn't trust those words, not from Chara, not from anyone.

He walks down the stairs only to see an unhappy Nightmare and a on the verge of a panic attack Dust.

That was not a great thing to start his morning with, oh well he'll just ignore it at least means the attention will stay far away from him this morning.

Cross doesn't bother a good morning, he didn't feel like speaking. Nor did he really ever but that's life.

He walks into the kitchen to see how Horror's doing as he does every morning but Horror seems quite on nerve so Cross doesn't walk too far into the kitchen, it was a small gesture but very much noticed by the big guy.

"Good... morning Cross," Horror starts, sounding a little on edge, "The boss told me to keep everybody occupied this morning... although I know you usually train.. I was wondering if you'd help me out...?" He asks.

Cross was startled but he would never say no to someone asking for help, it's a habit he could never sway, he nodded but in a more 'are you sure?' way.

"Thanks... I asked Killer but... you know how he is..." Horror says, shuffling around, seemingly understanding Cross's not speaking as him not being up to conversation and handing him a bowl and some chocolate.

Cross gives him a questioning look, "Just... heat up the chocolate so it melts..."

"A-" Cross attempts but his voice fails him, "I- Is there a specific reason that I'm heating up... chocolate...?" Cross asks, they didn't usually even have chocolate in the house, let alone anything sugary but it seems Horror either had a stash or got this special to make something.

"Wanted... to make something." That was enough for Cross, he didn't care to question it any further, besides he really just wanted to get Horror's approval.

Cross, without a word, easily heated up the chocolate over the stove, it began to bring back memories of his AU he didn't want surfaced.

The sound of laughter, the taste of chocolate in his mouth, his arms didn't hurt, the worst he felt was a little sore. Speaking to everyone, not holding his tongue, no, actually feeling the urge to speak real words out loud.

The smell of chocolate cake, kind words he'll never hear again-

His palm burning.

Cross blinked in surprise and lifted his arm off of the stove quickly, he had accidentally set it down on the burner and hadn't noticed, the feeling already so normal to him.

Horror looked over at the sudden movement and asked him what was wrong.

Cross didn't respond.

The words were so caught in his throat, they refused to leave, he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to-

"Cross." He hears a powerful and commanding voice that was unmistakably Nightmare's.

Still he didn't speak but his hand fell from where he was apparently clutching it.

"Is something upsetting you Cross? I can feel your emotions you know, so it would be best not to lie, I will know." Nightmare asks, Cross barely understanding.

Nightmare wanted him to speak.

He didn't want to speak.

He turned towards Nightmare, but still he couldn't even manage to get his mouth open.

"Cross, respond to me." He says and Cross could barely even think, his brain suddenly filled with images of his family's death.

A death of his own, maybe.

And then, his lack of food and therefore energy caught up to him yet again, he stumbled and then blacked out.

...

When he awoke he lay on the couch with a damp washcloth on his head and a bandaged hand, he almost panicked but realized his arms had no such care, Nightmare hadn't felt the need to check for other injuries thank gods.

Cross sat up and took the washcloth off of his head, staring at his hand for a moment before a smell hit his nose.

Chocolate cake.

He couldn't handle this, not right now, not ever.

It was his birthday, a day that he dreaded every year now, October 10th, the day Cross was born.

A day he considers to be the worst day of his life.

Celebration was no more, he needed a way out, he needed to get his frustration out, he needed to burn every piece of bone on his body until it was unusable, then use it anyway.

"Cross, you're awake." Nightmare says, startling slightly.

Cross didn't say a word.

"What's going on, you've been strange all week, more so than normal. Your little nightly negativity bursts have been getting larger and more prevalent every night, I think now is when I interfere." He sighs and Cross almost gasps, Nightmare knew something was wrong.

He didn't want to speak, his body would not let him.

He wanted to cry, his body could not.

He wanted to burn, he wanted to burn, he wanted to burn, he wanted to burn-

"Cross. Are you listening to me?" Nightmare's voice suddenly bursts through his thoughts of self harm. "Cross I'm not kidding, have you suddenly gone mute?" Nightmare says, his voice turning stern but softening a second later, "I promise I won't judge if something is bothering you."

Cross manages to open his mouth this time, nothing comes out though. So he closes it, unsaid words threatening to spill out now and that scares him more than not being able to get anything out.

Nightmare sighs, "At least tell me what happened, Horror was terrified..." Nightmare mumbles.

Cross opens his mouth again, but this time it worked, "I... got distracted..." He manages to mumble, his voice hoarse from little use.

Nightmare sighs again, "Distracted how? You end up with a burn on your palm, which you should have noticed right away if you had your hand on the burner by the way, that's really weird and you might need to figure out what that is supposed to mean, Horror is concerned you haven't been eating enough and passed out due to lack of malnourishment, although I'm going to guess it was overexertion, but then again you just woke up-" Nightmare sighs a third time, "My point is, what the hell got you so upset?"

"Ch-" Cross coughs slightly, rubbing his throat, "Chocolate..." He muttered, "The smell reminded me of something."

"...Oh boy." Nightmare says, realizing this was probably a mistake.

"...What...?" Cross mumbles.

"I think I should just show you, follow me." Nightmare says, gesturing to a door.

Cross got up and followed Nightmare without a beat, anything to get his mind off of his-

...

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CROSS!" Mostly Killer yells, Cross is suddenly hit with a dump truck of emotions.

"I- I- H- How- I don't-" Cross whispers just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You told me one time when I was upset about something." Dust says, who happens to be covered in colorful streamers.

"And you told me when I was half asleep!" Killer yells excitedly, he's covered in silly string and Cross realizes that Nightmare has a tiny piece of it on his shoulder.

This made him cry.

He didn't cry in front of others, it was so taboo in his brain.

It wasn't sobs, it was just tears, he barely changed expressions.

Everyone looked startled, they had been expecting Cross to say they didn't need to or maybe even get a small smile out of him, not tears.

Killer immediately ran over when he realized what was going on, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? I thought birthday parties were supposed to be happy?"

Cross couldn't explain so it came out in sobs, Killer grabbing onto him while Cross cried on his shoulder.

Killer caught Nightmare's gaze and gave him a panicked look and Nightmare just shook his head.

...

Once Cross had calmed down and there were just occasional sniffles every now and then, they had moved one of the couches, "So... is this why you've been acting strange this whole week then?" Nightmare asks.

"S- Sorry." Cross mumbles.

"Do not apologize for things you are not at fault for."

"Sor- uh."

"Poor Crossy baby, he can't stop being a people pleaser~" Killer says, smooshing his face against Cross's in a manner that could be taken as mocking but Cross knows Killer well enough to know it isn't, still doesn't stop him from shoving him off though.

Killer is undeterred, he just hugs onto Cross harder.

"...Are you... okay?" Horror asks, looking worried.

"...Yeah. I'll live." Cross mumbles an 'unfortunately' afterword that only Killer and Nightmare could hear, Killer squeezed a little tighter at hearing that.

"Why did you pass out...? Do you... know?" Horror asks.

"..." Cross can't bring himself to tell them the way he treats himself when they aren't looking.

"You do know, don't you?" Nightmare asks, his tone only slightly accusing, Cross flinches either way.

"Criss-Cross, are you doing something to yourself?" Killer asks.

"Yes." Is the only word that Cross can manage to get out of his mouth, everyone's frown deepens at the sound of it.

"What...? If I may ask." Nightmare says, even though it sounds like you have a choice, you'll have to tell him anyway, he'll just ask you when nobody is around.

"I can barely eat..." Cross whispers, "And when I manage too, I throw it all up, I can't keep food down anymore, I don't even need to make myself throw up anymore... I can do it on command."

"...What?" Horror says, looking horrified.

"I'm sorry..." Cross says and his voice starts to waver, tears threatening to spill again.

Suddenly Chara's voice pops in, "What about your arms?" They say, "I know you already told them some of your bullshit but every morning when I see them they get worse."

"That's not... the only thing..." Cross mumbles, clutching at his sleeves.

"Of course it isn't." Nightmare sighs.

"..." Cross slowly rolls up his sleeves and a series of gasps and exclaims are heard, one from Nightmare as well.

"W- What the hell are you even doing???" Dust asks, his horror not even hidden.

"Burning." Cross says.

"... How much is there?" Nightmare asks.

"All over my whole body... but mostly my arms." Cross says, wincing.

"I- I don't even know-" Nightmare says, seemingly astonished. "You know what? Come here, let me heal you."

...

Cross was super embarrassed the entire time Nightmare was healing despite Nightmare telling him that it was fine over and over.

It... went away.

The burn is gone.

He needs the burn, the painfully awful heat on his bones to stab at his regret and shove it so deep down it disappears momentarily.

Nightmare notices his... unhealthy... thoughts and lets out a frustrated sigh, "Cross, you do know you're definitely not allowed around lighters anymore right?"

"Okay." Cross says, his emotionless stature coming back, but Nightmare, being so close to him, could feel the addiction in his aura, the temptation and pain that Cross was so good at hiding.

Nightmare frowns at this.

"Come on, I thought we hit something and you wouldn't be an emotionless robot around us anymore." Killer grumbles and Nightmare sends a glare his way, Cross knew Killer was actually worried about him though.

Throughout his entire time at Nightmare's he's seen everyone but Nightmare cry before, Nightmare obviously has his own problems though, he's seen him flinch when he gets glared at or Killer and Dust's roughhousing gets a little too close to him and a hand goes up near him.

They never seem to notice though, they just keep going and Nightmare will sigh and tell them to be nice and that he's going to take a nap. He never does though, he goes and sits in his library and reads what are 'not' romance novels. Cross had seen it himself, Nightmare was reading a book that Cross had read and of what he remembers it was all schmoopy feelings and smut.

He leaned over and said, "Whatcha reading there?" He giggles as Nightmare flinches and turns his head around quickly, his face turning extremely confused as it was not normal for Cross to act like this at all.

"Sorry about startling you, I just recognized the book you were reading." Cross says, holding back giggles.

The horror that showed on Nightmare's face when he said that was unmatchable with anyone he's ever seen die at the hands of any of them.

"You. Didn't. See. Shit. You hear me?" Nightmare had said, Cross replying with a thumbs up and giggling a little.

Nightmare was interesting, although seeing Killer cry was the craziest thing Cross thinks has ever happened.

Killer was supposed to be emotionless, he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all.

And the funny thing about it was that Killer wasn't crying about regret, or his own sadness, or even for someone dead.

Killer was crying about a fake comic about two cats.

Nightmare's face when he heard Killer's sobs in the corner of the room was completely shocked, Killer per usual was sitting on the bright pink beanbag in the corner of the room that had been there as long as Cross has and longer.

As it was just Cross, Killer and Nightmare home at the time, they both had looked over immediately and seen Killer sobbing over his phone, Nightmare had run over as quickly as he could and asked what was wrong.

"The cat dieddd!" Killer responds, sobbing into Nightmare's shoulder.

"...What?" Nightmare had said, confused as ever.

This was also the first time Cross had heard of Color, apparently Color had sent Killer a link to this super cute cat comic about two cats who were siblings but then a human killed on of them near the end of the comic, Color had also apparently sent that 'watch this being back your emotions' and Killer had been like, okay, whatever I guess I'll read it.

But then the cat died and he started sobbing.

Cross had felt bad but then he realized the hilarity of the situation and started to uncontrollably giggle.

Nightmare had looked at him and given the most 'are you kidding me' face in the world and Cross started to laugh more.

Killer's face when Cross started to laugh was so...

Let's just say there was no words to describe the mix of hurt and then awe at Cross's laughter.

Cross didn't emote, that was how it was and how Cross thought it would always be.

Nightmare was the first to change that, then Killer started to hang out with him after that, Cross never realized how funny Killer was. It was hard to see through the insensitive bitchass Killer was when he first met him.

Killer had... changed in his eyes a lot since then, like right now, with Killer hugging on his arm that had already been healed to the best of Nightmare's ability.

Like right now? Killer was the cutest thing Cross thinks he's ever seen.

Killer and Cross weren't dating, neither of them were good enough with their own feelings to deal with eachothers. They liked each other, maybe.

That's how it was and Cross didn't mind, Killer wasn't as much as a bitchass as he'd first thought.

"My apologies about all the festivities Cross, we just were excited that we finally found out when your birthday was and didn't think about how you hadn't said anything for the past three years, or how it might have painful memories attached to it." Nightmare says, finishing with his other arm.

"... I'm fine, I just..." Cross sighs, "My birthday was never a bad thing before... It's not like I have these terrible birthday memories, it just reminds me of... my AU." Cross says, stopping himself before he says family, he couldn't call them that, it hurt too much to think of how they were gone.

"I understand, if you want us to ignore it from now on we will, but I think it might help if your memories of your birthday are not all of things that cause you pain." Nightmare says and Killer nods and whispers.

"I got you a special present." he says in Cross's ear, seemingly excited about it.

"Okay," Cross says, talking feeling so much easier than usual, "I think you're right..."

"Yay!" Killer exclaims, "I can't wait to show you what we got you~!"

Cross exhales and smiles a little at Killer, who sees it and his eyes light up in a triumphant way. "I knew you could smile." He says, getting in Cross's personal space a little.

Suddenly, Cross knew everything would be okay.

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chiriwritesstuff · 9 months ago

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An Apology, Reflection, Staying true to yourself, and Some News: Updates on 'The Girl in IT' and 'My Wife in IT'

Hey Guys.

I owe you all a huge apology. It's been a rough ride lately, and I want to take a moment to explain what's been going on. I think it's important to have this conversation, even if it scares the shit out of me. So, before I dive in, I want to say sorry in advance for what I'm about to share.

Firstly, I want to say sorry for my absence. Back in February, I got hit with a nasty virus right when 'The Girl in IT' was really taking off. Seeing the story gain traction was incredible, but it also came with its own set of challenges. Suddenly, I was getting hundreds of notes instead of the usual handful, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

At the end of the day, I'm just like anyone else – human. I write because it's a passion of mine, but I also want to create something that resonates with all of you. However, in the pursuit of trying to make everyone happy, it's easy to lose sight of your own vision. That's exactly what happened with 'The Girl in IT'. I got so caught up in trying to cater to my self-created expectations that I lost touch with what I originally wanted Sugar's journey to be. Adapting to all the changes I've made from the original story became a real challenge for me, and I just... felt so lost.

Then came the burnout. After being sick, I hit a wall. I just couldn't find the energy or motivation to write, no matter how hard I tried. Burnout is real, guys, and it's something I wouldn't wish on anyone.

The turning point in all of this coincided with a major plot development in 'The Girl in IT'. Originally, my intention was to shed light on PCOS and its painful realities. However, in my eagerness to please what I thought everyone wanted and to avoid delving too deeply into darker themes, I ended up complicating matters for myself.

Enter 'My Wife in IT'. I had a clear timeline in mind for Joel and Sugar's relationship progression, but the unexpected turn of events forced me to rethink my plans. This had a ripple effect on 'My Wife in IT', leaving me facing a significant roadblock. I started to hate everything I attempted to write for Wife, and it didn't feel right to post something I wasn't 100% okay with.

I really want to take the time to emphasize that this is no one's fault but my own.

But here's the thing – I'm not giving up. I'm taking this as a learning experience and using it to grow as a writer and as a person. Which brings me to the big news...

I've decided to go back and rework the last few chapters of 'The Girl in IT' to align with my original vision. Think of it as 'The Girl in IT: Christine's Version'. But don't worry �� we'll still get our happy ending. And once that's done, I'll be diving headfirst into 'My Wife in IT'.

I want to take a moment to apologize for any disappointment or frustration this may have caused. Looking back, I realize that I lost sight of staying true to myself and the story I wanted to tell. I got caught up in the numbers and metrics, instead of focusing on what truly mattered – telling a story that resonated with me and hopefully with you, too.

I want to express how incredibly thankful I am for all the love and support you've shown Joel and Sugar. Your encouragement has been like a beacon of light, guiding me through this journey. But you know, sometimes life throws us curveballs, and I've realized that I owe it to Joel and Sugar, and to all of you, to stay true to the story I set out to tell from the very beginning.

I'm truly sorry for any bumps in the road or delays that may have caused frustration. Your understanding means the world to me. Thanks for being there, for listening, and for being a part of this adventure with me. Hopefully, you'll love what I have planned for Joel and Sugar... for real, this time.

#on writing #the girl in IT #my wife in IT #please dont hate me #joel miller fanfiction

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hazbmymhotel · 8 months ago

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I promise, this image is NOT a spoiler, but I did make me laugh way too hard

Chapter 11) Zip, Zip

“So, Angie, I'm actually royally pissed!” Cherri Bomb opened the top of her latte to dump in a coffee liquor. “You always said if you ever got married, I'd be there!”

“He was bleedin’ all over the place, was I supposed to call you?” Angel leaned back, sipping his own cappuccino.

“Uh! Yes!!” Cherri recapped her drink. “Especially since it's this guy!!”

Husk looked up, a madeleine in his teeth.

“I thought you were just gonna fuck him.”

“He's old fashioned,” Angel lied. “Plus I've never been married before. I figured it'd be fun!” He grabbed Husk's chin and leaned down, biting off the other half of the cookie.

Cherri laughed into her hand and shook her head. “He's ancient.”

“We're the same age,” Angel argued, swallowing his mouth full. “I've just been in hell longer!”

“I'm also sitting right here,” Husk informed her.

“You look rough,” Cherri told him directly. “Like, not only the shit Angie’s insane brother did!” Angel winced quietly as she went on. “But you look like a rug!”

“Brutal,” Husk sighed, sipping his breve.

Angel jumped to his defense, “Husker isn't sleepin’ well!”

“Oh!!” Cherri was more interested now! “Are you two knocking boots all night?” She squealed as Husk’s blush showed through his fur. “Ang. Is he good?”

“So good!” Angel gushed. “I'm gettin’ spoiled, it's gonna ruin me.”

Cherri lowered her voice and leaned in. “So are you seriously quitting porn? Word is that Valentino is losing his fucking mind.”

“How'd you find out?!” Angel asked in surprise. “It was that sketchy director wasn't it?”

“Travis,” Husk bristled.

“Seriously? That's what you know about my videos?” Angel looked at him flatly. “My foot-obsessed-director?”

“He's a piece of shit!” Husk answered.

Cherri snorted. “The old pussy cat's right, though. It was totally Travis. He's whining about it online!” She showed Angel her phone. “But how'd you pull that off??”

“Through marriage. It's complicated, Cherri, I kinda wanted a break from explainin’ all my bullshit…It's been a long day with Nickie and other fuckin’ garbage.” Angel sighed and crossed his second set of arms. “Plus Husker isn't allowed to sleep anymore, so that's gonna be a whole thing.”

“I bet I can still sleep,” Husker said with a huff. “It's probably an overreaction.”

Now Cherri was even more confused. “... Because of all the fucking?”

“No, because he got all wrecked up by Nickie! See! I didn't wanna talk about it!!”

“You brought it up, Baby,” Husk said, but wrapped his tail around Angel’s leg. “But it's probably just PTSD or some shit.”

“Does PTSD make people scared of zippers? It don't make no sense,” Angel crossed his arms tighter.

“I mean, PTSD made me scared of egg salad for a good few years,” Vaggie swirled her cup around. “But what did zippers do?”

“It's a man covered in zippers. I think they're his skin,” Husk answered with a shudder.

“Oh, hot though,” Cherri grinned, “How many dicks do you think he's hiding?”

“Fourteen,” said Angel, “but he ate them all.”

Husk shuddered again, fluffing his wing nervously. “Not every time I fall asleep is a nightmare.”

“Do you think Vaggie might be full of shit?” Angel asked. “Over exaggeratin’ a bad dream?”

“They're just fuckin’ dreams,” Cherri agreed.

Husk nodded. “...But maybe I should stay awake until we figure it out.”

Angel sipped his cappuccino and considered. “Yeah, you've been sleepin' like 14 hours a day since your contract with Alastor broke, Husk, you sure about that?”

“Well he's a cat!” Cherri laughed. “What's he supposed to do?”

“To be fair, I was on morphine for like 5 of those days…” Husk tightened his tail around Angel’s leg.

“Do you got any left?” Cherri asked hopefully. “I'll trade you for some uppers. These little babies will keep you awake!” She pulled some pills from her pocket. “Angel, you want some?”

“Mmmmnnnnah, I'm actually handlin' sobriety pretty well today! I haven't even drank since yesterday.”

“Fuck. Married life is making you lame!” Cherri looked at Husk. “But how about you, Kitty?”

Husk considered. “I'm probably fine…” he took another sip, but stopped to yawwwn. He finished with a blep, his little tongue hanging out.

“You're so eepy seepy,” Angel stamped his feet as he squealed.

“You're such a furry, Angel,” Cherri said, even though she was equally charmed. “But seriously, you look like you're about to konk out, old man.”

Husk sighed heavily. He looked at Angel Dust, and then at Cherri’s hands. “What is it?”

“A bunch of good shit!”

“I got morphine back at the hotel…take it if you want it…is this gonna fuck me up?” Husk reluctantly held out his paw, letting her drop several multicolored capsules into it.

“Oh, yes it is!” Cherri shouted excitedly.

Angel tried not to look concerned. “I mean, you think he can handle all that, Cher?”

Cherri waved her hand at him. “Pshaw, he's old enough to be my great grandpa. Right, Huskee, you can handle it.”

“You can seriously just call me Husk,” he told her firmly. “But if it'll keep me awake…” Husk swallowed them with a mouthful of his drink. “It's not like it'll kill me.”

“Sure, right,” Angel said, tossing his coffee cup into a trash bin. “Are you two fuckers ready to go out then? We'll wanna be somewhere loud when those kick in…Husker, you're probably gonna wanna dance.”

“Oh?” Husk hopped to his feet, catching himself from falling with his cane. “I'll definitely take up less space on the dance floor now–Baby, you don't have to look so sad every time I bring up my wings.”

Angel covered his mouth and looked away slightly. “I'm not.”

“Oh my God, Angie, you're becoming a tittering mom to this old dude. You sure you don't want a pick-me-up? Maybe a little coke??” Cherri checked her purse.

“Cherri, for fuck's sake, I'm not doin’ it no more, so stop askin’!” Angel grit his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck! I'm not used to you bein’ all responsible.” Cherri sucked her teeth and stood up. “Are you still drinking at all? Or are you completely boring now.”

Angel scoffed and reached out for Husk's empty cup, tossing it away for him before storming outside. “I think I need a drink to deal with this today.” He rubbed between his eyes.

Husk watched him stand outside of the coffee shop, ears back.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” Cherri directed herself at Husk.

“Coming down is hard,” Husk said simply, “he's been without for almost two weeks…it's a hard hump to get over.”

“Could you go give him a hard fucking hump so we can get on with our day?!”

“Sex won't solve withdrawals, sweetheart,” Husk felt a prickling in the back of his head. “Just give us a minute.” He walked himself outside, lightly touching one of Angel’s arms.

“Hey,” Husk said, voice soft and gentle.

Angel frowned before turning his hand, reaching to hold Husk’s. “...hey.”

“Do you want to ditch her?” Husk kissed his fingers.

Angel laughed a little before frowning again. “No…getting off this shit is hard, Whiskers.”

“I know.” Husk rubbed his cheek against the back of Angel’s hand. “We could go home.”

“Charlie will harass me into doin’ somethin’ today…I don't think so.” He squeezed Husk's hand. “Can we go to a club? I wanna see you dance like an idiot on drugs.”

“I get the feeling I'll be doing that anywhere we go,” Husk said, kissing up his arm.

Angel giggled and swatted him off. “Okay, okay, let's go.” He turned and waved at Cherri to come outside. “Stop fuckin' offering me drugs today, bitch.”

“Fiiiine,” Cherri hugged Angel’s arms on his other side. “I just wanna show you a good time, you know that!”

Angel sighed. “Yea. I know. But not today. Today I wanna remember my husband lookin’ stupid.”

“Then let's gooo!!” Cherri said, tugging them forward with her. “We're actually early enough to catch some of the fuckin' drink deals today!!”

In spite of the bright red daylight outside, the club was dark and only lit up with cool, flashing colors. The music was thumping out enough to make Husk's wing twitch each time. He couldn't make out the words, but it didn't matter!

Instead, it felt good. Husk's brain had started to itch, and the music was scratching in a satisfying beat. He heard Angel laugh, which made him feel warm. Cherri yelled something about his footwork.

Husk was pretty sure at some point he'd gotten his hands on a trumpet, and he jammed out to the music while the crowd howled in excitement. It reminded him of a time he was high out of his mind in a club in Chicago back in the early 40’s.

Husk was barely focused on what was coming out of his mouth. He knew he was sat between Cherri and Angel Dust. He couldn't keep his hands off of Angel’s legs. “You're gorgeous,” he said over and over.

“Enough about that! I wanna know about Chicago!!” Cherri demanded.

“Oh, fuck, I was 12 years into a dead marriage, and I was just craving something different and wild! I hadn't done magic in ages, and I completely crashed my own stage!!” Husk realized there was a drink in his hand, so he gulped it down. “I was so fuckin’ embarrassed, but when I was having a drink after, I got to playing. Some asshole handed me a saxophone, and I fucking love blowing horns.”

“I fuckin' bet you do!” Cherri squealed.

Angel was enraptured, hanging on every word.

“And this little twink comes up to me, he's in the tightest fucking outfit I've ever seen,” Husk was offered a cigarette, so he took it. “And he's hanging all over me, saying how much he loved jazz. He asked if I had jungle fever!” Husk laughed noisily.

Angel looked horrified, but it seemed more internal than anything else.

“Baby, you good?” Husk asked, but Angel leaned over and kissed his face.

“Tell your story, sugar.”

Husk took a long drag on his cigarette, trying to focus again. “It was my first time with a guy, and he knew what he was doing! He fingered himself in front of me and sucked my cock like a champion.” He tapped the ashes into a tray Cherri offered. “When it got down to it, I think I fucked him half the night! I can't believe how long I could throw this kid around.”

Angel fanned himself, looking pleased and embarrassed.

“And I thought, well shit, how did I waste so much time on just women!?” Husk found his hand rubbing up the inside of Angel’s thigh, so he squeezed. “Men are so fucking hot!”

“Yea, that's SO true!” Cherri took a shot.

“Didja ever get his name?” Angel asked, gripping Husk's wrist.

“I can't remember, I was so fucked up! And I had another engagement in Indianapolis the next day, so I had to dip before he was even awake.”

“But you left a queen of hearts on the dresser with a ‘thanks for the lay,’ note on it,” Angel provided.

“Yeah, I–” Husk's ears perked. “Did I already tell this story?” He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray.

“No!” Angel laughed nervously, holding his head. “No fuckin’ way, Husk!”

Husk stared at him in confusion, the drugs seeping into his brain. “Do you wanna dance, beautiful?”

Angel laughed harder, covering his face. He nodded dumbly and let Husk drag him onto the floor.

“Those two,” Cherri rolled her eye, grinning.

Husk was sure Angel was having fun, hearing him shout eagerly as they danced. He registered Cherri joining them again!

“I'm gonna go get us some fresh drinks!” Angel shouted. “Keep an eye on Husker!”

“We're fine!” Cherri yelled back, turning to grind on some massive wolf.

Husk was enjoying how the music made him sway…until he stepped forward onto concrete. He grabbed for the cane hanging on his arm, and it wasn't there. Lights flickered between green and yellow, the crowd disappearing and reappearing with each flash.

“Oh shit,” Husk stumbled back, grunting as he hit a mass.

“Watch it!” A nondescript voice shouted.

Husk stared straight ahead as he saw it. The music faded away, replaced with the sounds as it began to approach.

Zzt…Zzt…Zzt…

He could see it closer than ever. Its face zipped up and down as it walked, revealing a large red orb hidden in inky blackness. Husk turned and bolted, abandoning his cane on the dance floor as he left on all fours.

Angel Dust laughed and shimmied his way across the dance floor. He saw Cherri’s hair and made his way over. “Got you a cocktail, toots!” He looked around, frowning in confusion.

“Uh, Cherri?!”

“Yes, bitch?! Want me to pay you?!”

“No! Where’s Husk?!”

“Huh!?!” She stopped dancing to hold her ear towards him.

“Where is my Husband?!?!” Angel stepped back to find him, stumbling. “Oh, shit,” he bent down to grab his cane. Another demon grabbed his hips as he did, grinding into Angel’s ass. He turned and smashed his drink into his head, “do you fuckin’ mind?!"

“Jesus Fucking Christ!!” The demon shouted, holding his face as he sprayed blood over the spider.

Angel shoved him back and started searching at knee level, looking for a hint of Husk anywhere.

“Oh for fuck's sake, he's fine!” Cherri stepped over the writhing demon to chase after him. “You're worrying too much!”

“He hasn't done anything hard since he was alive over forty fuckin’ years ago, Cher!” Angel shoved through a group, seeing a flicker of red outside.

Husker fell back onto his ass, kicking into the floor as he tried to find his footing again. He grunted as he hit a wall, dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He clutched his chest, sure he was going to have a heart attack like the one that killed him.

It leaned down, wrapping it's lanky fingers around Husk's ankles.

“There you are!” Angel said in relief. However, Husker looked worse for wear. He was having a full blown panic attack on the sidewalk, shoved against the wall of the club. “Way to go, Cherri,” he yelled at her before moving to kneel next to him. “Husker? Can ya hear me?”

Husk's ears twitched and he opened his mouth, only to scream as he was dragged by his leg into the road.

“Can he normally run on his back?!” Cherri was actually alarmed now.

“Uh, No!” Angel was tired of her attitude today! He grabbed for Husk’s hands and pulled him back–

Husk watched in utter terror as the Zippered man buried a hand into the tuft of his chest.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT

“JESUS FUCK!” Cherri leapt back as there was a fountain of blood erupting from Husk’s chest.

Angel stared. Time slowed down…it was becoming easier to trust his hands to do what they needed. He shoved at the empty space above Husk, finding they collided with mass.

“Ah, ah, Angel?” Husk stared at the red sky above them. “It's raining?” Blood rained on his face in fat droplets, warm and comforting.

“Cherri, come make yourself useful, Fuck!” Angel demanded, directing her to hold his chest closed.

“Did he just fucking unzip his own body?!” Cherri was too high for this!

“Just hold it!!” Angel gripped at his own fur, letting out a grunt as he yanked out a long string. He bit it off with his teeth.

“Angel! What the fuck is going on?!” Cherri was definitely too high. “What the fuck are you gonna do with Yarn?!”

Angel ignored her and pressed it against Husk's chest, feeling stupid, but trusting his gut. Like a sewing machine, the string worked itself into Husk’s skin in a stitch.

“Oh, Fuck!” Husk yelled, closing his eyes tight.

Cherri sat back, letting out a breath. “Angie. Seriously.”

Angel clutched Husk into his lap, staring at the empty space in the road. For a brief moment, he'd seen it. “Fuckin' hell, Cherri.”

Cherri took a moment, pushing her bangs out of her face with a bloody hand. “...Sorry, Ang. I fucked up.”

Angel leaned down, pressing his face between Husk’s ears.

“Is it gone?” Husk asked, finally daring to look up again. “Did the rain stop?”

Angel breathed out shakily. “We're goin’ home.”

“Let me…let me call you a cab,” Cherri said. “It's the least I can do.”

“I fuckin’ got it,” Angel said sourly, pulling out his phone.

#huskerdust #husker #mymart #hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #art #husk #hazbin husk #fanfic #til death do us part #zipperman #Cool!Zipperman

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 2 years ago

Text

How You Met THE SPARROW ACADEMY:

PAIRINGS: Sparrow Academy x Genderless!Descriptionless!Reader

FOLLOW UP TO: How You Met - The Umbrella Academy

A.N: we need more sparrow content ASAP. I fell quick and I fell hard

WARNINGS: Quick and minor mention of a bus crash (under Marcus tab), varying degrees of content for each character, me borrowing a villain from the comics I don't know shit about other than what i read off of TUA Fandom Wiki, and me still getting the hang of this format and writing and just having fun and being silly with it more than taking it seriously

LINKS: main masterlist || sparrow masterlist

MARCUS HARGREEVES:

Ahh Marcus 😍

He's really just so... 🤩😍🤪🥰😚☺️😅😘☺️🤩

Yeah

Oh my gosh seriously, theres a reason he's number one and it's because he's the biggest dork

You knew a thing or two about putting up about three different kinds of walls until you could hardly recognize yourself, what with you basically being the Lila of the Sparrows

It's complicated how you met but also, not in the slightest

True, there was only one Handler and the only kid she ever "had" was Lila

But she wasn't your mother, she was your boss

One that you only ever met once or twice, but you can hardly remember it, it was so long ago

You were recruited by her, however, at a unusually young age annnndd long story short, you quit

Working for an organization out of time sounded cool, and was. For about 2 (non)minutes

Then it just got depressing and way WAY confusing and downright dangerous

It took so many (non)years to plan an escape and then another two or so to actually put it into action and escape

Nothing unusual, you were constantly jumping from year to year, place to place, never staying one place too long. (Kinda like couch surfing! Time surfing if you want to put it that way)

It went off without hitch, your little plan, and had been going fairly smooth for what you perceived as about four or five years

Then said "pitstop" in good ol' 2009

That's when your path collided with the Sparrows

And when it did, you crashed

No literally, there's a literal crash involved

It was definitely something that happened by total chance

And yeah, you could argue that's how most things are, but, hopefully you get what I mean

Like, it's crazy how you just happened to forget something when you left for your walk for work and decided you had time to go around the corner and get it. Crazy that you had just enough time to catch the next bus

And that next bus just so happened to be the one that got caught in the crossfires of a Sparrow vs Villain of The Week fight

Thankfully nobody was seriously hurt, but there were a great number of close calls

You being one of them

And you had Sloane Hargreeves to thank

In a spur of the moment as you were fleeing the bus with the rest of the crowd, she pulled you lot from across the street and out of harms way

When the fight had died out, the weirdo supervillain calling himself the Murder Magician was taken away (his sidekick, the assistant as well) And the Sparrows were swarmed with press and thankful citizens

You think, because of this, it'd be virtually impossible to get any face time with the famed sparrows, right?

Wrong

Again, it's crazy how you just so happened to be trying to make a beeline out of there (what? being on the run meant blending in, and you couldn't very well do that from here) when you ran into a very handsome wall

"Oh! My apologies, I didn't see you there"

Okay, so. Not a wall. Just a very tall, very handsome, and very very famous man you knew more about than you probably should thanks to your old job maintaining timeliness and such

You insisted you had to go, but wouldn't you know it, your little streak of luck wasn't over yet

That murder magician guy? Did I mention? He had a little something called a murderbot

Kind of makes sense now, I guess. Usually, supervillains aren't as cool with being caught unless they have another trick up their sleeve

So, kinda awkward, but

the thing kinda took ya hostage along with some other unlucky few in the crowd thanks to advantage it got witht he element of surprise and all

Marcus and the sparrows handled it fairly quickly but it was still upsetting!

Experiencing a bus crash, a murder magician, his murderbot and then two rescues all in one morning can take a lot out of you!

Marcus, having already ran into you and then letting you get kidnapped right in front of him immediately after, he felt kinda responsible for you. call him old fashioned (lol)

He asked multiple times if you were okay

He did not want to leave your side until he knew you were okay

He'd invite you back to the academy where Grace could check you over for potential injuries (concussion, internal bleeding, etc) and he could be certain you'd be getting good medical care

(even though EMTs are right the f there lmao)

He may be a dork but he's also a spoiled rich kid like his siblings lskd8v8

You, all the meanwhile, having a whole different timeline's worth of knowledge on him and his siblings thanks to your time at the commission (this excludes the kugelblitz since that was technically not supposed to happen... I think) felt like you were treading dangerous waters interacting with someone so famous in history

I kinda lost where this was going lol but I do know that after all that, it was a bit harder to say no to Marcus and the little soft side he started to show when he was getting worried

Cause you were definitely started to get a little dizzy and you definitely hit your head at some point in all that chaos

And a very handsome, very famous, very dorky, and very kind man was now very worried about you

Okay, so maybe you could be a little bit late to work

SPARROW!BEN HARGREEVES:

I finally understand the term poor little meow meow

He is a wet cat

Angry and petty and snippy

And inexplicably ruthless

You two would probably meet somewhere totally unexpected

Hold on let me think of it real quick

I guess I could see you working their PR or something, if that was even a thing for them (you being newer, and ofc around their age)

Idk I feel like, with Sparrow Ben, and how much of a little shit (affectionate) he is, I think it would be kinda hilarious and yet totally on brand for him to have a connection (good or bad) with someone who got paid to tell him what to do - ie, he thinks he doesn't need it and that it's the others that need to behave and rebrand themselves when he's like, right there

His promo poster was literally the Had To Do It To Em pose, you know I'm right about this

Not exactly the kind of image that's super great for, you know, a superhero

So yeah, he would have to listen, but he'd give a stink

And even a bigger one when you threw it right back

I'd think you'd have to have that kind of skill, at least to some degree, after working in such a field

Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass

The point is, y'all would likely be bitter, but like, the kind that got comfortable after a while?? If that makes sense??

Either way, he's such a little shit and i just don't see an instance where you meet and it's perfect sunshine and rainbows right off the bat pfft

FEI HARGREEVES:

BIRD SANCTUARY!! BIRD SANCTUARY!! BIRD SANCTUARY!!

YOU WORK IN A BIRD SANCTUARY

You two are a match made in the cosmos and its sickening 🥰

Fei, like her aforementioned brothers, takes herself and the job pretty seriously

So it can be a bit rare for someone to see her in her true element

Or at least--

People who really know her

Her family

So, when a total stranger just comes along and just,,

✨️✨️✨️

Its really special

And what better than bonding over birds, and nerding out over birds?!

I feel like she wouldn't exactly shy away from whatever she may be feeling

But I also think she'd try to underplay it

Ya know, keep it cool and not make a huge deal

You know, it wasnt a huge deal that one day, on her day off, she decides to visit a reveried bird sanctuary just outside of town

And that, upon that visit, she happened to stumble upon you, unable to stop yourself from spewing bird facts and hey? Did this random visitor know about the loyalty of crows and all the limitless examples of humans befriending crows??

Well they did now

Oh no did she love your corny enthusiasm over birds - crows especially!!

She just couldn't help herself when she first overheard you and wanted a better view

Sure she spent her time communing with the birds around her, but a select few of crows--her crows--adopted a sudden interest in you and your info-dumping to unwilling visitors, flocking to you wherever you went

It wasn't unusual for birds to bond with caretakers but you didn't recognize these crows that now seemed to follow you everywhere, always keeping a polite distance and paying careful attention to anything you had to say

Soon enough, you were fully conversing with these crows, making sure they were comfortable wherever they might have come from

That pretty much sealed the deal for her

From then on, she knew she had to make herself known to you; introduce herself, commend your respect for her birds (and the others in the sanctuary)

Yall hit it off immediately, no surprise ajdkps

Oh she's also so fucking smooth adjsjs

Idk, shes just kinda sweeps you off your feet when she finally introduces herself to you, commending you for your respect to your birds (totally teasing you for how you, by extension and strictly technical terms, treated her through her birds) and is such a coy little fker who loves seeing you get all flustered

My god though, shes also so fucking soft and sweet and loyal when you earn her trust

Either friend or partner, she'll come across something she'll think you'll like and give it to you next time she sees you (ohh idk, like a crow)

Shes so fucking loyal and just so heart melting while also being the coolest, smallest fker ever and AHHH

I just love her

ALPHONSO HARGREEVES:

Jskapsoyc

He's so boyfriend shaped

I love him, I need to know more about him, and I'd love to say how you guys met was some miraculous coincidence that makes perfect sense like Fei, but honestly he just really strikes me as someone you just Bump Into, ya know?

He's a guy, and he's just around

Maybe you met in a convenience store

That feels like something that would happen (or maybe I'm just still thinking of his fight scene with Diego)

Oo! Honestly, some place like a bowling alley or arcade

He, like Marcus, is such a dork

But he holds himself as like, a, Cool Dork, ya know?

And it's not as hidden

It's not hidden at all, he's such a snarky pizza-eating, soda-chugging, quick-as-a-whip dork

He feels comfortable in public, for not all the right reasons

And he's easy to run into

He gets a lot of mistreatment by Sparrow fans, but his attitude is much like his power

Arguably, it's because of his powers

He's rubber, they're glue; what bounces off of him sticks to you

ie, he's so good at letting a bad attitude bounce off of him and stick to his attackers

And yeah, sometimes his walls are down and stuff gets to him when he isn't prepared, but overall he is sadly (and infuriatingly) used to it

He's not always the favorite among fans, is what I'm trying to get at

>:( fucking stupid if you ask me

But!!

Woah woah woah. Hold on...

Back up

Apparently he's... your favorite?

Lol okay, yeah, sure, you're totally not trying to be nice, he thinks (note the sarcasm)

Like I said, he's used to feeling the occasional tap on his shoulder -- like now, where he stands in line for some good ol' mediocre bowling alley hotdogs -- cause someone recognized him

He was, arguably, one of the more recognizable sparrows after all, behind Christopher obviously, so

Here we go, he thinks, turning around, hands lazing in his pockets and quite possibly the least enthusiastic look any living thing could conjure on his face

And just like anyone else, you stood waiting as he turned to face you, smiling in a way that was all too obvious you were trying to hide your excitement

"Hey," he nods

"Sorry," you laughed, but not in the usual way. More like an awkward chuckle that sounded nervous. That wasn't too unusual, either

"Sorry," you said again, burying your hand back inside your pocket like the other. "you probably get this all the time, pretty much everywhere"

He shrugged it off, not appearing too bothered by it

"No problem," he said, glancing back ahead to check the line. It still was pretty long; some issue with the deep fryer holding up the line, by the looks of it. He had time. He looked back at you, waiting indifferently for whatever to come. "What's up?"

Judging by the looks of it, you had already started backtracking the moment you got his attention. You were second guessing getting his attention. Cause figures

"Just a big fan," your hands were still in your pockets, fiddling and moving around visibly through the thin cotton, maroon zip-up sweatshirt

You had shrugged, and thats when he noticed your zip up was familiar; it was a piece of sparrow merch

An older one, judging by how worn it looked

The little sparrow insignia higher up on the left breast of the jacket was still there, but it was significantly faded, and the matching white rope laces dangling from the hood were fraying at the ends

He nods again, leaving the future of the conversation up to you

Wildly inconvenient for you, you thought, considering you hadn't exactly thought this far ahead. At least, if you had, you immediately forgot.

You said the first thing that came to mind, cause of course you did

"I loved the Sparrow comics when I was younger,"

Okay, yeah, you definitely regretted this. This was mortifying. Plain and simple.

Sadly, however, Alphonso saw this in your face and misconstrued the reasons for regret

He thought you were regretting talking to him when really you were just getting in your own head

You quickly assure him though, that, actually, he's your favorite and you think he's super cool and you've actually been a fan of his since yall were kids

He takes the information like any other fan interaction,

That is until it really clicks for him you're being totally serious and your enthusiasm is genuine and he kinda :o

Then he's such a suave little shit I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Goes straight to his head, God bless <3

SLOANE HARGREEVES:

Love of my life, bane of my existence 🥰

She's perfect and such an inconvenience to me personally

I love her entirely <3

She's the sweetest of the sweet and sunshine in every sense of the word

Huh? Oh right!

How you met... *ahem* ☺️

Oh no biggie, she just uhh, saved your life is all

Okay okay, maybe not your literal life but she did save your morning shake which saved your morning which saved your ass from your boss

She was a blushing mess despite the grace of her powers and agility -- but it technically had been her fault

Sloane had been in such a rush, she unintentionally collided with you on one of the busier streets downtown

Totally cliche and a meet-cute right out of the movies

I honestly don't think I have much else to say about that, it was pretty straight forward and sweet (like her)

Admittedly you had been rattling around her head for a few days afterwards cause hey 👀👀👀 she can appreciate what's in front of her - and yet, she was kicking herself for not doing something about it

She held a lot of responsibility as a sparrow and part of her was afraid, not so much upholding the sparrow image, but disappointing her siblings

Sloane dreams of a having a life of her own, unsanctioned by her father and/or her brothers and sisters. She's been planning ahead for her inevitable exit, why had she chickened out with you??

Almost two weeks had passed since she ran into you and thirteen days since she talked herself into giving up on anything happening.

She had scolded herself, really, how foolish it was of her to think she could have something sweet and endearing with a very cute person like you

Sloane is a romantic in every sense, and this had merely been proof. How naive

And...

How naive of her to think she saw you standing out like a sore thumb in one of the sparrow crowds stationed outside for one of their outings

She had to do a double take when you gave her a shy wave, and she definitely had to make sure she wasn't making a fool of herself as she made her way over

You had sent her a grateful nod when she covertly steered you two out of the reach of cheering fans crowding around you trying to get to her and her siblings

Sloane may or may not have failed in her attemps to tamper down the corny smile that came with your being here

You looked almost, shy

"I thought you seemed familiar," you smiled, looking up over her shoulder at one of the many huge banners plastered on the academy. She followed your gaze over her shoulder and then quickly averted her gaze, not overly eager to see the sight

Were her cheeks always this sore?

JAYME HARGREEVES:

She was forged by the gays, for the gays

I love that trope where the sunny sunshine one is the grumpy grumps favorite

I feel like that could easily apply to her

But I also feel like it wouldn't be like that immediately, if at all

Not even soon

It would be a long process to get her there cause she's a sparrow after all, and being a sparrow means you come with an ego and stubbornness so strong it might as well be its own superpower

When she met you, she was irrationally and entirely furious

A big part of it was you kept cropping up everywhere

You delivered a pizza to her and Alphonso once upon a time and ever since, by total coincidence, you kept reappearing

She didn't believe it was accidental ofc

She thought you were some stalker

Meanwhile you were just as confused

It wasn't exactly love at first sight for you, either

Jayme was brash and short tempered, but when she was around you -- bumped into you on the street, out for a run in the park, whatever -- she was just plain cruel

And the thing is, she didn't know why

All you had done was the deliver the pizza, made light conversation with Alphonso and wished them both a good day before leaving

The fucking nerve of you

She's just crushing hard, actually

Nah, you're just annoying to her, that's totally it

She totally didn't think you were infuriatingly attractive, fun to be around or anything. And the display of dry humor she witnessed when you were chatting with her brother totally didn't anger her in a way she couldn't understand because she wasn't used to cute people saying stuff that she almost laughed at

But she didn't laugh. So there

She won, you lost

And you didn't even know it.

You simply thanked Alphonso for the early arrival tip, nodded a goodbye to both of them and then left

Just like that. No fan freak outs despite you knowing who they were, no autographs. Just a "thanks for saving the day" and a "let it cool for a few minutes, the pizza oven can get pretty hot and it was a short drive here"

That's it.

But that's just the thing.

That was never it.

There was always more, and Jayme wasn't buying it.

You were too calm, like you had been planning that meeting for ages

Maybe you were, even if that didn't make a damn lick of sense

Alphonso calls her out on her shit and he's the only one she really listens to even though she's not happy about it

On some level she knows she's being an asshole but it's kinda hard for her to help

Oh, real quick, by the way

If you're in the community and that's the context between you two for this preference, I don't mean to say she's acting like this cause of internalized homophobia or anything, she's just kind of an asshole skskxhcppff

This girl knows she's gay

Like Ben, she's more like a cat than a dog

She's cute, but she bites, and she's quick and really, she's just a total dick

It's also just kind of a Hargreeves thing, too to be fair

But, like cats, it's kind of, weirdly, part of their charm

She does make an effort though, after her talk with Alphonso, to be less... dickish

It works

Kind of

After a few practice runs

And lots of pizza orders later

But eventually, she's working her way up to answering the door and getting the pizzas from you with one goal in mind

Not making you storm away in rage

I mean, sure, part of the reason she gets so mad is cause you can actually keep up with her

It's never been this hard for her to get the last word in cause you actually can keep up with her and whatever she dishes out to you, you dish right back

In a way, she's kinda met her match

And that made things worse

But. You were still human and she was the one who was a literal super whose specialty was finding someone's weakness

(Actually Jayme sometimes worries she does that somehow without actually using her powers, so that was a big part of her wanting to be better ☹️)

And she's making mild progress!

It isn't until she's dialing the pizza place and working through her nerves as she does so that she realizes why she's so nervous

And then she throws the phone on the couch in embarrassment cause ew feelings

But one thing keepa her from giving up completely:

For whatever reason, you keep coming back

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writing-whump · 10 months ago

Text

Something about your tummy

Very fluffy Isaiah and Seline fic. Mild stomach discomfort, lots of bellyrubs.

"You are not going to eat?" Isaiah asked.

Seline looked at the freshly cooked vegetables, meat and potatoes Isaiah served on the table.

Isaiah went ahead to make a great lunch, as he usually did when they both had classes in the afternoon and could spend the day lazy and alone together.

Seline loved the fact he cooked, cause she has been afraid since she was little this would be considered a "woman's responsibility" and her boyfriend would automatically assume she would take over the kitchen. Which never made sense to her, cause if they both returned from work, why should the girl be the one cooking while the guy lazes in front of the TV? How was his work more exhausting than hers?

Never been an issue with Isaiah, cause he liked to cook and took over preparing all their meals without asking. She has been suprised to find his cooking style also suited her well, not too salty or oily. Though he seemed to pick up on things she and Matthew disliked, cooking more into the direction they all enjoyed.

Seline liked salty and meaty things more, Matthew had more of a sweetooth but also needed lots of proteins and weight for his weight lifting and boxing. Isaiah didn't seem to have strong preferences, but he liked healthy natural vegetable heavy meals. That was the verdict from watching him.

He would never say. Seline was finding out there were many things Isaiah wouldn't freely say or express if he could somehow solve it on his own.

She felt a little guilty, but Isaiah's private mysterious personality was incredibly calming. Her father and brother were both emotional, often yelling when excited, angry or upset, without even noticing. Seline and her mother talked over it many times, but there was usually no stopping it, only bearing, leaving the room and forgiving them after.

In a way Matthew's grumpy more direct approach was more familiar to her, safer. But Matthew also wasn't one to yell, more like grunt and complain and she found that heartwarming despite herself.

Matt was very careful with his temper around her since the incident that had them not speaking for a week, but there hadn't been that many things that made him angry at home. It felt to her like he was genuinely happy around them, no matter how closely she watched.

And she has to make herself watch, because she got so easily lost in thought, her books or her current research, she could ignore a storm going on downstairs. Since starting to live with the boys, she started to force herself to pay attention. From time to time or when she felt like something was off, hopefully catching on things if it mattered.

Isaiah was all knowing and calm and she knew repressing many things, but for her it was such a big sign of self-control from his side...it fascinated and comforted her.

Maybe it wasn't a good fit. Maybe he would benefit more from someone prodding and making him speak more about his past, about his complicated family relationships. Maybe a more nosy and clingy girl could make him open up quicker.

But she also suspected Isaiah wrestled with things still and that prying would not actually help. Despite the calm exterior Isaiah was actually quite easy a nerve-wreck. The nightmares that could make him puke, or the days after he met one of his brothers or was reminded of something he could spend in silence, brooding, pale and not eating.

If asking him about something made him so obviously uncomfortable, shadows under his eyes growing as the neutral mask settled over him, voice going cold - that was a sign there was something intense and painful behind the facade. She couldn't bring herself to push at him, knowing this.

She didn't understand how someone could, when someting was so obviously painful for him.

The incident with his high fever helped her find the line she wouldn't cross. When he finally felt like asking for help was far too long after he should have. Something to watch out for sure.

She counted it a little win he did ask at all.

They would have to figure out this speaking up thing somehow, or she would pull her hair out mulling and worrying when he was drifting off without telling her.

She was starting to pick up on the signs, but wasn't yet sure how to address them in a way that wouldn't disturb his pride-bricked comfort zone.

"It looks delicious, Zaya," she said apologetically. She was sad she couldn't eat, it was steaming and smelled amazing. "I don't know, I don't feel like eating."

Isaiah frowned, sitting down at the table beside her. "You are not? We didn't eat anything for breakfast yet."

They lazed around in bed until 11 before Isaiah started on lunch that he could fix in an hour.

"Not really feeling hungry. Maybe it's just from yesterday-"

"You feeling sick?" His hand shot out to cup her forehead, checking for fever.

"No, nothing like that," she smiled at his concern, gently prying his fingers away and intertwining them with hers on her knee.

It was...simply emberassing to talk about anything related to her stomach. She didn't mind talking about headaches or colds, but stomach and anything lower felt...way too gross.

She gulped, lowering her eyes to the table, cheeks colouring a little. If she wanted him to communicate, she should probably do it too.

"It's just like dinner didn't sit well," she blurted out, "and Iwokeupfeelingabitfull and now I think maybenoteatingcouldhelp."

Isaiah, noticed to her eternal, horror, how she tended to be ravenous in the mornings and careful about her sugar dropping, cause they were quite drastic with how quickly her metabolism worked.

Today it was unnerving that it was different - she felt full and a little crampy. Loking at the food now, she felt only revulsion. Time to listen to the signals and take it easy.

"I'm sorry, you went through all that trouble." Her eyes flickered to him for a second before going back down. "It won't go to waste, don't worry, I'm just going eat a little later. If there is anything left after Matthew comes."

Isaiah huffed out a breath, his hand turning in her grip to take her wrist and squeeze it. "You are cute, when you are flustered, but please don't be. It's natural. So unidentified tummy problem, is that it?"

She snorted at the word 'tummy' and his light tone. "Eat, I'll just get me some mint tea."

"No, no, no, sit," Isaiah said playfully, standing up to kiss her on the forehead and gently press her back against the chair. "I'll make it."

"You are hungry, so you eat," she said with a shake of her head at his escapades.

"Nope, won't eat before a lady does, so tea it is. Does the smell bother you?" He was opening the window before she answered.

"You are fussing," she accused with a smile, a wave of fluttering warmth spreading over her heart.

"You wouldn't deprive me of the pleasure, would you?" Isaiah had the water boiling and picked her favourite blue mug from the shelf.

"You are crazy," Seline said with another shake of her head.

Isaiah poured the water in, bringing the steaming mug over to the table. He stood behind her, draping his arm around her front casually. Always so careful about what she would want, what she would allow.

She wrapped her hands around his arm, clutching it to her chest like a talisman.

Isaiah smiled as she leaned her head back against his stomach. "You always say that when I do something very nice and you don't know how to accept it," he said smugly, very pleased with himself.

Seline rolled her eyes. "Go eat already.

Isaiah let her go after another squeeze, sitting down. Judging by the speed her ate, he must have been dying of hunger.

It was definitely crazy. Isaiah was the busiest person she knew - between his master degree in psychology, doing practicum this semester, being on back and call of so many packs when they didn't know how to resolve a dispute, often teaching new pups in the city or preparing them for their shadow passability exams.

But he still somehow managed to drop everything for her, to be with her, to find the time.

"What are you thinking about?" Isaiah interrupted her thoughts.

Seline flushed again. She couldn't exactly say 'about how amazing you are'.

"Ehhh, did I tell you about that cool class I found this semester? Every week comes a different professor from a different faculty to talk about their approaches to storytelling, it's so interesting. I still think we could make a whole new faculty around that topic..."

He listened and nodded, asked questions. Never did he complain that he was too tired to listen or that it was too complicated or that he had better things to think about.

Was this the first stage, the wooing stage, where he would hold out everything? Or would this change with time as they became boring to each other? Would it pass, getting this giddy when his eyes lightened up, when he shared his thoughts to things that mattered to her?

After eating, they ended up sprawling on the couch. Or more like Isaiah sat down with his arm around her waist, dragging her to lie against him as she talked, cushioning her.

"These are all excellent things to consider for my master thesis. I talked about it with the professor and the workshop group, and they weren't sure what about bestseller books would be relevant for culture studies. I always get that question, but like popular culture is very much a subject of culture studies and we are allowed to work interdisciplinary."

"And your theory in this is culture can be analysed through the bestseller that was popular at the time?"

"Yes, but not just doing a classic literary analysis of the structure and style and themes and techniques. I want to analyse the way the audience interpreted the bestseller - which doesn't have to be at all what the author indetended. What about that interpretation resonated so well, that the book became so popular? What about books that become popular after many years, because some kind of event makes it suddenly interesting? That's like George Orwell's book being suddenly sold out in Ukraine, because considering the life in a dictatorship suddenly looks like a very real risk or the book Pandemic being reprinted several time during Covid."

"I think you make a compelling argument. The psychological reaction to brutal or world shattering events often leads to two reactions. Either they read everything related to the situation, devouring dystopic films and such or they watch everything but to get their mind off it." Isaiah shifted as he talked so he could lean over her, watching her face. He propped himself up with one hand while his other stayed on her hip, tentative anchoring touch.

Then it gently slid up towards her middle.

"That's exactly what- Isaiah?"

"Your belly's still upset? Can I rub it?" he asked.

She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, leaning forward to press her forehead against his chest. "Don't say it out loud, it's emberassing."

Isaiah chuckled. "May I?"

"If you have to." It felt very intimate for him to touch her stomach like that. She had offered bellyrubs to him once before, but something about receiving them, about his hand circling the top of her stomach, wide and gentle, had her toes curling up. It was like he had her in the palm of his hand, like there was nothing to hide.

Her stomach wasn't bloated, not exactly, but it was swirling quietly, like there was something inside although she didn't eat for over good 12 hours.

Isaiah followed the sound with his fingers, palm at the center. "There. Like this okay?"

Seline stayed with her face covered by his shirt, breathing in his cologne. "Tell me about your week. Are you still working with that kid that moved here from Neusiedl?"

Isaiah raised an eyebrow at the subject change but complied with a smirk, tone turning thoughful. "Yes. He's got good control, he is just a little arrogant, you could say. He follows his shadow's desires without question."

"Is that a usual problem?"

"One of the most usual ones. Either they are scared of their shadows taking over or they rely on them way too much. And their packs seek me out, like I had some kind of special talent with my shadow, some kind of gift." He scoffed at the idea, turning to lie on his back. "I simply have good training. It's entirely teachable."

"So their packs teach them wrong?"

Isaiah grimaced. "They are not wrong per se, but if you want to live in an environment so naturally stressful for wolves as a city is - with all the people, smells, impulses, lot less space - you gotta stop hating everything that's human about yourself. You gotta stop looking down on what human schools and universities can teach you. Otherwise what's the point of being here?"

Seline leaned the side of her head against his chest. "You know, you make for the perfect combination. You are studying the best there is to understand human psyche, but you are also a wolf with excellent control. You are the best to teach them."

Isaiah chuckled. "Maybe. I guess it's a rare to be both."

"Hmm. It looks like nobody can teach them this although it's very needed for the newbie wolves. Like how you taught Matthew?"

"Matthew didn't...he isn't problematic or whatever he thinks he is. He just didn't have anyone who would show trust in him."

"Yeah, but you figures out what he needed and then gave it to him. I'm not saying you need a psychology degree for that, but you are obviously demonstrating the ability to help wolves to understand their shadows better. Something no wolf can explain and no human school can teach. There is a hole for that and a demand..."

Isaiah smiled, bowing his head closer to her face. "Are you making up a new profession for me?"

"A unique one indeed," she said, leaning closer too. Their foreheads were almost touching. They were breathing the same air. Seline couldn't take her eyes from his lips.

She squaled a little when Isaiah tentatively pushed up her shirt to put his hand on her belly skin on skin. "W-what are you doing?"

"Rubbing your belly, of course." His voice was all innocent, with a terribly smug undertone.

Seline leaned away, covering her face with her hands. "You are horrible. I can't focus at all."

"Looks like you got a thing going on there with tummies. I don't know what it is, but it's very cute."

Seline rolled her eyes, trying to take control over her rapid heartbeat and breathing when he whispered like that with his hand up and down on her skin. His fingers were warm and smooth and she was melting under the touch. Was this guy going to be her undoing?

"Seriously. I tell you it's feeling off and you keep doing this. I don't get you." Shouldn't he be grossed out by the image of her insides moving, in whatever direction that might be? It was petrifyingly emberassing.

Isaiah scoffed at her words, sliding down on the sofa so his face was on the same level as her stomach. He cradled it with one hand while throwing the other over her back.

Then he kissed her on a sliver of naked skin under the shirt, right under her belly button.

Seline's eyes went wide, mouth hanging open in a little o. Isaiah chuckled.

She cupped his cheeks in her palms, fingers slightly shaking as she pushed his face towards hers.

Something flashed in Isaiah's eyes, something dark and intense, but exciting in a new way and he leaned into her touch to capture her lips in his.

The kiss was deep, long, and she completely lost herself in it. In his taste, his smell, his everything. If she could drown in him, she gladly would.

They were both breathing hard when they separated, his hands still on her waist, under her shirt.

His smile was wide and genuine, no masks. This was an emotion he wanted her to see.

"Completely crazy," she breathed.

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #fluff #stomach ache #my writing #werewolf wip #bellyrubs #Seline

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simplyender · 8 months ago

Note

You have a way of finding sympathetic/kind of pathetic antagonists that are clearly neurodivergent and if given the chance, would totally be better people but never really got that chance

Fern and Hordak and Spot

[Identify my Blorbos!] (putting this at the top bc I made a really long post lol)

Anyway,

[Incorrect buzzer]

You were pretty close there till you said all of these guys would totally be better people but never were given the chance, especially when you said spto Gideon Graves. My man was SO down to do evil. At his best he's harmless and pathetic. But the dude still is pretty pro-doing-terrible-things, even if its not to Scott and Ramona in specific. Could he improve? Sure! But I'm of the belief that anyone can. It sucks that he wasn't treated nicely as a teenager but like. Dude, get help. You clearly can afford it. You just don't want it/don't think you need it.

Gideon actively chose to become the CEO of G-man records and he chose to use his vast power to make a girls life a living hell purely because he felt ENTITLED to her and her love. That's fucked up!!!! Hes' a sick shit in all versions and I truly do love him for that. He and Julie really are bitch x bastard! <3

Fern and Spot both are interesting ones, as they're both cases of "they made their own choices", only, the Finn part of Fern was doing something good (reviving Prismo), he just didn't know that meant he'd become the Finnsword, and the Emissary from Beyond is....Complicated.

Spot, however...

....Look, we can theorize as much as we want about his hypothetical past and what drove him to do it (bc I doubt anybody that works at Alchemax is fully stable), but before all this shit happened to him, he CHOSE to work at Alchemax, which was a morally dubious decision at BEST. I don't think he had bad intention in the slightest however, it's just that Spot....Seems to have a bad habit of not really caring about anything else that's going on around him as long as he's getting what he wants. Negligent is the word (Funny, considering that's what he accuses Spider-Man of being). Also nobody made him go back for the dark matter, and he could have evacuated like everybody else*

Either way, both Fern and Spots actions definitely come from a place of desperation and severe emotional distress. And they're both guys that really lost their entire lives due to something out of their control**, and just weere driven to go....Way too far. They also actively decided to be bad guys because villainy provided them with the validation they needed. Hopefully Spot won't get killed off in the end like Fern did. Haha!

Hordak is definitely what you described though, because we were literally SHOWN that through the existence of Wrong Hordak! He's from a cult and heavily indocrinated with horrible beliefs that he deeply internalized, especially because of his relationship with his disability and the way Horde Prime viewed him for it. This is also seen through Entrapta, who....Yes, helped him do evil thing too. But they were adorable. And ultimately, it was her that helped him realize his worth as a person and take the step towards good (although that was a personhood thing, not a redemption arc, lol). But through proper support, Wrong Hordak was able to grow and develop in a way that Hordak just wasn't given the opportunity to, so....Yeah.

Hordak never got the chance, and Fern kept getting screwed over by the universe and his own low self esteem. But Spot made his own choices in life. He is absolutely the most selfish person out of the three.

And also. Is, yknow, the most experienced in life/an adult. (I already talked about Gideon who is the worst but like I said he doesn't even come close). Yes what happened to him was horrible, yes he didn't deserve so much mistreatment for it, but still. The chain of events started because of his own decisions until it spiralled out of his control, from where he doubled down for a variety of reasons indicating that he really needs the intervention of a trained mental health professional.

I think I went way off course here.

Sorry. Haha.

* Yes it's likely that he felt like he had to go back and save the remains of his work, might have something to do with Olivia stealing all the credit for the collider and his desperate need to be recognized. Still a bad idea though.

** Spot may have done the physical aspects of his life going to shit to himself but I'm not blaming him for the way other people treat him for what is now out of his control. It's not like he asked to be what he is, or to be mocked and lose his livelihood for it.

You get a 1.3/4 because the description is correct up to a point but it entirely fits Hordak.

SO close!

#long post #hordak #spop #fern the human #spot #atsv #gideon graves #im a little rusty on my spop and adventure times so forgive me for being incorrect at any point #apologies to my blorbos in advanced #and let me be very clear i ADORE all of these guys even if i might seem less sympathetic in areas #ultimately i sympathize w a majority of stuff abt them #life hack: dont work for evil inc #(although spot might notve KNOWN it was evil inc and by the time kingpins funding shit its like....hes not leaving unless its in a casket)#(though i doubt he would anyway. he gets to make his collider! yayyyyy)#asks n answers #the spot

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ninjahiccups · 2 years ago

Text

The Songbird of Asgard

Chapter 7: Want

AO3 Link OC insert version Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 Word count: 11.4k Warnings: canon typical violence, another metaphor for toxic family if you squint, Heimdall is touch starved

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Blurb: One more trip to Alfheim, and you're more prepared to handle whatever unwanted memories come to you. Despite your resilience, you find yourself knocked down again. This time a certain god chooses to act. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Again, not happy with this one, but hopefully you guys like it more than I do lol

Heimdall tried to avoid you. Really, he did. He was busy, had plenty to do, no time for fooling around. He wasn't trying to deny anything. There was nothing for him to deny. No, not a single thing.

It didn't last long. In fact, he automatically approached you even more than he had before you went to Svartalfheim. Up until this point your interactions outside of your safe space had been fleeting, limited to a short moment here and there, a few jabs at each other in passing. Now whenever he saw you, he would actively seek you out, just start talking to you like he had always done it. He wouldn't linger long, still prioritizing whatever Odin had asked of him, but any time he caught sight of you he automatically spared a couple minutes to chat.

Everyone started to pity you. You could tell. Whenever Heimdall approached you servants and gods alike would look at you like you were being tortured. Some of them even complimented your ability to keep your cool around him. In truth, it was surprising, but not unwelcome. There was even something…uplifting about his sudden willingness to bring your friendship out of the secluded sidelines. It was a wake up call, in a way. This wasn't just a pastime he used to relax. It had become a real bond, and not the one you were expecting. With that in mind, you got the feeling that things had deviated even more as of late, no matter how much you tried to rationalize it.

You did your best to ignore that thought. Heimdall was a private, complicated, distrustful man, and not without reason. He wouldn't seek out something like…whatever you were thinking. He would definitely not be interested in anything beyond this. Then again…it had been well over six months since you started getting along. Maybe it had been long enough.

No, you weren't serious. Things weren't turning out this way, not at all. You were friends. That was all he wanted and you felt the same. You had definitely not grown attached to that whiny manchild. That pompous, overconfident jerk. The man that would have gladly killed you without a second thought once upon a time. A god that couldn't care less for most others and was too arrogant to start thinking he should. The person that would always say he doesn't pout, and then pout in a way that had become more cute than irritating. A man that was so passionate and dedicated to the things he loved. Smart and funny, even if it was in cruel ways sometimes. He was much more thoughtful than most would give him credit for, your many discussions about books you loved proved as much. Someone with plenty of outward flaws, but with so many hidden gems that made you want to care about him, likely making you the only person who did. His eyes were still so pretty, and you loved the handsome smiles he wore when you would sing to him.

It was only friendship. You definitely didn't miss him when he didn't visit you at your getaway for several days after your errand in Svartalfheim. The times Sif tore you away from Heimdall while shooting him a suspicious glare were not annoying. That wasn't how it was at all.

But what else would it be?

Heimdall growled the same thing to himself when he finally returned to your hideout for the first time. He was fond of you. Yes, and? It didn't mean a single thing. Nothing had changed, and there was no need for it. He just…wanted to hear a calming lyre that day. He wasn't cracking. His resolve wasn't shattering.

He definitely didn't feel ten times lighter when he heard you singing for the first time in days.

Confusion and questions, ones that neither of you would properly address. As far as either of you were concerned, you were still friends. You were still the one person he could relax with and was capable of matching his intellect. Heimdall was still the solitary god that you wanted to help get away from the burden of his foresight. With that in your minds, they gradually settled into denial.

Heimdall still wondered what he was thinking about every other day. Every time he did he would grow frustrated with the conflict between these urges and his common sense, but as soon as he gave in to temptation he seemed to forget all about it. It was so much easier when he didn't think so much…so he didn't.

In the end, it made him feel so much better to just let go.

It was almost another month of this shuffling around the ignored uncertainties while Odin tested the artifact's repaired core. You assured him it was stable, but he wanted to be absolutely sure that nothing catastrophic would happen if it were used someday. It was tied to all the realms, after all. On top of that, he had hoped to narrow down the location of the next piece as much as possible.

Which he did, but not enough for Heimdall's liking.

He made no complaints, but he did feel heavy while he went looking for you so you could retrieve it. Alfheim again, of all places. And in a part of the realm that was worse than the last. You had learned some things since then, maybe this time would go smoother.

He found you in the Great Lodge with Sif and Thrud, idly chatting while the youngster was pretending the cheese and grapes from her lunch were battling on her plate. Heimdall gagged at the sight before dismissing her presence and standing before you and Sif.

Sif was not pleased. She gave Heimdall an ugly glare, daring him to interrupt your conversation once again, still so certain that you were just too nice to tell him to get lost. "Ladies," he greeted, not at all serious. Sif growled, "What do you want, Heimdall? We all know you have work to do."

"How perceptive of you," said while he rolled his eyes. "You are correct, however. That's precisely why I'm here." His eyes went to you, who nodded in understanding while Sif sighed in defeat.

"We'll finish up later," you said as you joined Heimdall. On your way out you patted the little girl's shoulder and whispered, "Make sure it's a fair fight, okay?"

Thrud giggled a bit too enthusiastically, "The cheese is just losing!" You chuckled at that, and her mother's tired sigh when she saw the mess Thrud made.

Muninn was waiting outside on the roof of the lodge, cawing impatiently like it had been waiting for years. Heimdall held up his hand to the agitated bird. "Before we set out, you should know where we're going." He paused, reading you closely so he could monitor your reaction. "We're going to Alfheim again."

Disappointment. Not nearly as potent as the first time. "And? I'm sure I could have figured that out."

Heimdall could feel it. That one sensation that he had never experienced. Worry was coiling in his gut. Worry. Him. He hated knowing that's what made him loathe everything about this, but repeating that to himself didn't make it go away. "Not just anywhere in Alfheim. A light elf temple."

"The Temple of Light?"

"No."

There it was. The sinking of your spirits at the realization. "Show me." You weren't willing to assume the worst until it was undeniable.

Muninn heard and obeyed you, encircling you in ravens until you were at the edge of a lush forest, green and yellow vegetation dangling from the tree branches above. It was sunset, painting the scenery with shades of red and orange. The trees thinned several paces ahead of you, edges neatly trimmed and maintained by the elves, who cared for plants in Freyr's name. Beyond the thin strip of empty land was a river with a white marble bridge arching over it. There was a neat garden on the other side, the wild trees lining the rectangular clearing, fencing off most of the interior. Groups of shrubs and bushes with flowers made of butterflies were arranged in an intricate pattern, the complete design only visible from the top of the structure in the center. That structure was a temple, white and light blue and gold with giant blue gems illuminating the walls. The tall structure was composed of several towers, each one circular and connected by beams of light. These towers formed an oval, and in the middle of the oval were three more towers separated by paths of light, arranged in a perfectly straight line. The one in the center was the tallest, stretching high above your heads and more than five times the height of the Great Lodge. The very peak was home to a large blue flame that reflected into surrounding crystals, flooding the region with a cool hue. Windows and balconies littered the walls, all of them lit by blue torches and lined with golden frames. It was truly a perfect representation of the light elves' architecture, and bright enough to see for miles in any direction. Intentional, serving as a guiding light to elves that needed to find their way to the fortress of their territory.

You felt your heart speed up and your stomach fall to your feet at the sight. This had to be the absolute worst place in the realm for you to be. "Víðbláinn," you whispered, nostalgia sweeping over you as you took in the familiar sight.

"You know it?" Heimdall asked.

"I was raised here." This was where the brightest children among the light elves lived and studied, cared for by a staff of scholars and guardians, all of them overlooked by the matron. Heimdall felt pain wallowing deep within, the dread of returning commanding you to leave. There was also a sense of longing for simpler times, well before you had started aiding the elven war.

Heimdall waited for the inevitable closing of your mind, certain that you would want to hide your thoughts from him like you did last time. Instead you turned to him, your resolve overpowering his reluctance as you held your hand out. He gave you the relic fragment you needed to start tracking the one inside.

You nearly set off without a word, but Heimdall spoke up. "No complaints?"

Most would have found that insensitive, referring to coping with ghosts of the past as "complaints." You were not one of those people, having spoken with Heimdall enough to understand what he was really asking. "I'm fine." When he didn't seem convinced, you added, "You said I can't let them bind me any longer, and I can't do that if I run away. I'm not going to hesitate this time." Stern and resolute. Absolutely certain.

Heimdall nodded, perturbed by the traces of…something your conviction made him feel. He masked it with a raised brow and a condescending smirk. "Ah, so you are capable of learning. Well, better late than never, as they say."

You slapped his shoulder — an action he predicted and allowed — with a chuckle. "Shut up. Any reason we were dropped here specifically?" You were off to the bridge.

"All-Father narrowed down its location as much as he could. He said it will be in one of the towers on this end."

Once you crossed, you had to fight the apprehension that was creeping in. It was fortunate that you arrived minutes before nightfall. Around this time the elves would have ended most of their business and returned to their personal affairs rather than their social ones. The halls should be relatively vacant, but sentinels looking out for any threats would still be a problem.

Heimdall caught one just after the land grew dark, signaling you to stay behind the thick tree nestled at the edge of the stone ground that the towers were constructed upon. As you waited for him to finish his inspection, you caught Heimdall admiring the ornate gold decorations inlaid across the tower walls. You smiled, recalling one of your recent get-togethers where he mentioned an interest in architecture. Asgard was his favorite, of course, but he had studied the structural feats of the other realms as well. Apparently light elf crafts were ones he respected. You whispered to him, "You? Liking the gold accents? I never would have guessed." You pointed to the gold on his clothing with a smirk. Gold was definitely his favorite color.

"You? Too daft to appreciate it? How shocking," he countered, nodding at the empty path ahead of them to tell you to drop it and keep going. You complied, but not before snickering at his annoyance.

You snuck through the garden and your trepidation only increased as you got closer and closer to the three towers in the center. The garden had ended and there was mostly bare stone surrounding the towers, leaving little cover for you to use. Worst of all, these central towers were also the ones that would be a problem — for you. There was a flower bed with a final bush with pink glowing flowers scattered across it that shielded you from the three central towers, where you confirmed that you were, in fact, going to have to breach the one on the left. A sigh escaped you. Your instincts were screaming to turn back, not to take the risk.

Heimdall sensed it. "Something special about this one?"

"No." Only half true. It wasn't special compared to the central tower, where the highest officials and overseers stayed and worked, but it was special to you. "But it is heavily guarded."

"And nothing to hide behind." Heimdall hummed, thoughtful. "I could use realm shifts to strike them down before they see us."

You almost groaned. He had to be confrontational, didn't he? "You could, but what will we do when their bodies are inevitably found?" He only shrugged, not really caring enough to reconsider. The death of a few elves here and there didn't trouble him, so long as you accomplished your goal. "Let's do this instead." You reached back to him, then paused. Something in you was just…nervous about the contact. You had to shake it off.

Heimdall was surprised when you grabbed his hand, nearly flinching. If you hadn't held up your other hand like you were swearing an oath he would have belittled you to hide the tingling in his fingers. Your golden magic leaked from your palm and encapsulated you in sparkles, then he saw his form becoming translucent, like he was disappearing. He opened his mouth to question what this was but you shook your head, mouthing "quiet" to him. You cautiously advanced, taking him with you and leading him through the open stone courtyard. Heimdall saw a sentinel floating gracefully across the ground and he automatically reached for his sword. You were clearly in the sentinel's sights, but you merely slowed. You stopped completely at a fountain with gold borders and a blue crystal at the spewing water's peak. The sentinel approached you, passing right in front of you, oblivious to your presence next to him. You were invisible to him, making Heimdall wonder why you had stopped. It was then he noticed it. Your shadows, casted by the light from the fountain's crystal — that would explain why you had never used this before, and why you stopped before your shadows were in the guard's line of sight. After he was gone you tugged Heimdall to the metal doors and pushed them open. Inside was the empty foyer, decorated by hanging plants and statues of prominent elves. You finally released his hand as the one casting the spell lowered, returning yourselves to normal. A sliver of disappointment flared up in him at the loss.

"You never mentioned that trick," Heimdall said with a raised brow. Unlike your earlier days he wasn't alarmed. Considering you could copy any magic you understood, a simple spell to conceal you was far from the most baffling.

You brushed it off, thinking nothing of it. "It's just a type of protection stave that conceals things from sight. The elves taught me that one, but they hardly use it."

He huffed. A spell that could conceal sight, but not sound or shadow. Given the bright torches inside you couldn't even use it while you roamed the tower regardless of the time of day. It really was next to useless. "Why would they bother teaching something so limited?"

You had to hold back a laugh, having asked the same question long ago. "Elves like tradition, and that spell is part of their training." Heimdall looked displeased at the answer, shaking his head as he thought about how ridiculous elven customs were.

You tiptoed past the foyer and into a short hallway, stopping at the end to peer into the wide circular room. A common area filled with tables and bookshelves, many of them small. You remembered this room well, where all the little elves would go through their morning routines before their lessons began. Empty at this time of day, the childrens' curfew having already passed. It was perfect for you and Heimdall, leaving you completely alone for the time being. After your inspection, you cautiously approached the stairs that wound up the wall. If you went up more than a few levels it was likely you would find the caretakers along your path.

You prayed that the one elf you were afraid of running into was in another part of the temple for once.

"Is there anyone around?" You whispered to Heimdall.

"Not at the moment."

Good. You ascended the white marble stairs, the bright blue lights casting your shadows across the steps. The hanging potted plants smelled so welcoming, memories of watering them filling your mind. It was so much easier back then. The temple was safe enough that the war was never a concern, your worries consisted of which books you could read and which elf you got to play with. And why you were such an outlier among the other children, of course. The elves never tried to convince you that you were something you were not, but it was still puzzling as a child who didn't understand how you came to be in Alfheim.

It didn’t matter now. Things change when people grow up, and you made your choice to leave. You focused on your task, stopping at each floor to see if Heimdall could detect any passing elves. There were a few close calls when an elf or two would exit one room and enter another. Luckily none of them needed to reach a lower floor. Your fortune would only last so long if you continued climbing. The higher levels were reserved for special vaults and offices, places that required authorization to enter. If the relic was in one of those rooms…you would certainly have to renounce your stealthy tactics.

You climbed and climbed, thankful for every time an elf coincidentally avoided you. It was after you reached the fifteenth floor that you felt the tension rising.

Then you reached the twentieth. That was where the sparkling path guiding you veered away from the stairs. You cursed to yourself.

Heimdall followed you as you slowly dragged your feet to the door it led to, picking up on the terror building in you. You stopped in front of the white doors with a blue symbol painted on them and framed with gold. Heimdall recognized the painting as Freyr's family crest, making him snort. "Their obsessions are so subtle." You didn’t answer. A bad sign considering you almost always countered his sarcasm. He followed your gaze to the metal apparatus mounted on the wall beside the door. A blue crystal was settled into it, the glow in the center very faint.

"Only high ranking elves can enter these rooms. They're the only ones who know the magic that can deactivate these locks." Explained mechanically, like you were holding back every bit of emotion in you.

"Is that really a problem for you?" Heimdall didn’t need to ask. He could feel your intention to unlock the door, but you were reluctant. Scared.

A sigh escaped you. "No, but we won't go unnoticed once we're inside. We need to be quick."

Heimdall wanted to tell you to hurry up and do it. Instead he held his tongue. To mock you when he knew you were terrified of whatever you might find felt…inappropriate. Cruel, even, despite the fact that he would have no problem imposing cruelty on anyone else. Before he could linger on it he simply replied, "Then we'll call Muninn once we have it."

You nodded. You channeled your magic into the golden form of an elf you hadn't seen for many years, but could still recall clearly. Your encased hand reached for the door's lock, holding it over the crystal embedded in it. Within a few moments the light within grew until the crystal was pure white, and once it was, there was a distinct click from the doors. They parted on their own as you dismissed the stave around you.

You made haste, scanning the room for what you needed. The first section was a simple round room, filled with shelves of relics and tributes to times of Freyr's reign over the realm. Another set of doors was on the other side of the room, locked with the same mechanism as the first. A sigh escaped you when you saw the path disappear beneath them.

Heimdall was close behind as you approached it and used the same process to unlock the next door. Everything in the room was made of fine metals, jewels, ancient tokens from Vanaheim. That was why a simple rock caught his eye. The only distinguishing thing about it was the childlike carvings on the surface. He picked it up and chuckled at it just as the next set of doors opened. "You weren't kidding."

You turned around, finding a familiar stone in his hands. It was the one you carved Freyr's name into to trick the matron. He remembered it from the silly story you told him during your second tour of Gladsheim. The thought made you smile in spite of the worry gnawing at you. "You thought I lied?"

"It's just even more ridiculous in person," he commented while replacing the rock. Then he froze, eyes flying to the entrance. "Someone's coming."

Your heart nearly stopped. "We need to move!" You scurried through the door and didn't wait for it to close before rushing forward. The short hallway led to the main room of the vault, a long rectangular area that curved slightly to match the round tower's form. It was similar to the last one, with old books and trinkets displayed on shelves, only this one had more tributes to Freyr, including a giant statue of him holding out his sword. You grew even more exasperated when the trail you were following went down the longer hallway at the other side, where the most valuable keepsakes were stored.

You only got three quarters of the way across when Heimdall grabbed your arm. "We're out of time," he stated, eyes glued to the nearby wall. You didn’t look. You were too scared.

"Little one." Said in the elven tongue.

Every muscle in your body seized up at the voice. Shame creeped through your veins, like a child caught stealing sweets before dinner. Slowly you turned around, meeting the old elf's eyes.

"Ragnheiðr," you mumbled. The fortress's matron, the one who cared for all the elven children that lived and trained there. The elf that raised you as if you were one of them. The closest thing to a parent you'd ever known. Ragnheiðr was unmistakable even to those who hadn't met her. The robes she wore were not like the white and gold ones the light elves typically wore. These were a deep blue and gold, signaling her status as the mother figure and mentor to elven children, and therefore deserving of the highest respect. As peaceful as her role made her seam, she was just as well trained as any warrior, evident by the two blades in her hands.

A gateway of blue light was flush with the wall behind her, where more light elves emerged, all armed and ready to attack the intruders. Ragnheiðr had other plans than an outright attack. "Keep him busy," she commanded, gaze never leaving you. The guards pounced on Heimdall, who shoved you away from him as he effortlessly countered the elves that went directly for him. More elves filtered from the wall of light to fend him off while Ragnheiðr spoke. "I had heard you abandoned us." Cold. Unforgiving.

You flinched. The matron was a wonderful person, kind and caring to all. When crossed, however, she was stern, authoritative. Causing trouble was taboo for the children that lived here because they were afraid of making her angry. You had to remind yourself to speak the elvish language, having not done so in a long while. "I didn't want to."

Ragnheiðr was disappointed. You could hear it in the strict reprimand. "And yet you did. After we took you in. After I convinced all the others that you were not just a means for outsiders to interfere in our business, and raised you as one of my own. For what? To serve a god that is notorious for his lies?"

You didn’t address that, seeing that Heimdall had already depleted the reinforcements waiting outside the hidden gateway and only had a handful of elves left to deal with. If you didn't defuse this quickly he would go for the matron next. You couldn't allow it. As cruel as the elf's perspective was, you couldn't rob elven children of a caring matron. "I just wanted more than…this." You held out your hand, gesturing to the battle raging just feet from you.

"You were selfish," the matron barked.

That made you lose control. You spent a lifetime dedicating your life to a war that wasn't yours, and yet you were the selfish one? "You have no right to say that! Yes, you took care of me, but in return you made me into an asset. I became whatever you wanted me to be, and it was still not enough. Am I so selfish for wanting a life that meant something to me?"

The matron glanced over at Heimdall. Only three of her elves were left, keeping their distance from the god as much as they could. She went back to you, the matron's sadness slowly fading at the ungrateful attitude she was given. "You think your life has any meaning when you are a tool for someone else?"

A valid question, you knew that. Something in you wanted to believe Ragnheiðr, to remember that you were in Asgard because Odin requested your service. In that regard, nothing had changed.

Then you remembered Heimdall's unintentional advice. Your choices were what gave your life meaning, not the people involved in them. The choice to live in Asgard had brought so much more than you ever had. Sif cared about you as a friend. Thor as well. Baldur thought you were fun, there were several servants who referred to you as a friend rather than their superior. Heimdall…you weren't sure how to describe what he thought of you, but you knew he had no reason to use you. He had been one of the best parts of moving to Asgard. "At least there are people in Asgard who care for me as I am, and not for what I can do for them. Unlike any of you!" You shouted.

Ragnheiðr was taken aback for just a brief moment, pain flashing through her eyes. In seconds her steely exterior returned, this time enforced with malice. "They were right," she hissed. There was hurt buried within, but it didn't match the level of insolence that had been revealed to the matron. "I should have let them kill you."

Your heart dropped. Your blood ran cold. Time ceased.

The closest thing to family you had…turned on you instantly.

Did you really mean that little?

Ragnheiðr reeled a sword back and flung a streak of light at you. You instinctively raised a barrier, the beam reflecting off of it and striking the stone Freyr statue behind you. Even though Heimdall was busy he made sure to keep tabs on your conversation (having learned from missing it last time) and knew things were not going to end well. He withdrew his sword from the final elven footsoldier and saw the statue's sword break free and plummet to the ground, point first, just as the enraged matron lunged for you. He didn't hesitate, speeding to you and pulling you out of the way. Ragnheiðr's slash ended where you had just stood, too engrossed in her fury to watch her surroundings. The broken stone sword tip was directly above her.

Before she could move the stone pierced through her torso, impaling her through the back and exiting out her chest to pin her to the ground. You gasped and shook free from Heimdall, taking a few steps closer as the matron dropped her swords and shook as the life left her. The matron may have cast you aside without any consideration, but this elf was still an unforgettable part of you, and an important caretaker for many others. You may not have wanted to see the matron ever again after this, but you didn't want her to die.

The matron's hand rose, reaching for you. "I…never…" That was all Ragnheiðr could wheeze before she went limp.

Heimdall approached you, shaking his head. He caught the matron's final thought but dismissed it immediately. She was the epitome of the nature of man, too self-absorbed and short sighted, and so ready to put their own gain above all else. He was prepared to say that you shouldn't waste your pity.

He didn't. He stopped when he felt it. At the sound of his footsteps your mind went blank. You had shut him out completely.

Once he was at your side you turned away, never showing your face. He said your name to get your attention.

"We should go," you mumbled. "They always prioritize the children's safety first, so we have time before more come after us." Your words were dry, lifeless.

When you turned away and went down the final hallway Heimdall felt it come back. The worry. He still hated it, something in the back of his mind was ready to rant about how it was such a useless emotion. Everything at the forefront, however, didn't care, only watching your back as you refused to let him see what you were thinking, pretending that he wasn't right behind you.

He called out your name again, attempting to bring you out of your shell. He got no response, but even if he did, what would he say? What did he do? The best he could think of was to point out how easily you had been torn down, how poorly you were handling it. Not to bring you down, but because it was frustrating to see the fire in you simmer down into mere ash.

You reached an elevator, round with a marble floor and gold railing, poised to go up the shaft and into the inner sanctum of the vault. You stepped on first, Heimdall following and pulling the crank to activate it. You were hiding your face, refusing to look at him.

He tried to force it. He moved to catch your eyes so he could see if there was anything he could pick up, but every time you sharply turned away. After the third attempt he felt the anger rising. You'd made so much progress, had started showing the world the parts of you that made you better than everyone else, and now you were throwing that away completely? Over this?

His teeth clenched with mounting irritation. Why couldn't you just let him in? Why did you have to shut him out, prevent him from using the only means of seeing exactly what was holding you down? Why wouldn't you tell him what's wrong so he could say something?

Wait, what?

He shook his head. Did he even have to say anything? Did he need to?

He felt like he should.

The mounting questions agitated him even more, so much that they boiled over once the elevator reached the top and came to a stop. "Is this really all it takes? One little slip and suddenly you're pathetically wallowing in self-pity?"

Nothing. Not even a spark of anger like the first time.

He'd had enough when you tried to pass him as he stood next to the break in the lift's railing. He held out an arm to stop you. "Nothing to say?" he snapped.

No.

"Answer me."

Still nothing. No holes in the barrier around your mind, no words to share.

His agitation got the better of him and he lifted a hand to your chin, gripping it and harshly turning your face towards his, determined to claw his way into your thoughts if he had to.

An action he would regret.

You were weeping.

Whatever fight was left in Heimdall vanished and the fury in his face was extinguished instantly. He didn't do anything to keep you from tearing your face away and drifted off without a word. No complaints, no retaliation. You just left him behind, doing your best to discreetly rub the tears from your cheeks.

Heimdall cursed under his breath as he watched you go. He despised his thoughts, consumed with the idea that he had wrongly assumed you had fallen apart when you were actually using all your power to hold yourself together. You were strong enough to do that, and he was the one that forgot, not you.

If he thought worry was a terrible thing, it was nothing compared to guilt. The heavy, frigid, piercing guilt that was burying his soul. It had an iron grip on him, like it was trying to tear his heart out.

Never had he felt this. He had been ashamed of his failures in the past, but guilty for what he said to someone? Never.

He said nothing more as you led the way, no other criticism, no attempt at anything else. It was like his tongue had been paralyzed. Once you reached the end of the short hallway, you were in a small room, finely decorated and containing only a few shelves that were dressed up as altars. In the center was a gold tablet with runes carved into it, telling a story about Freyr based on the title. To the left of it, on a wall mounted shelf, was the fragment you were searching for. As you took it down Heimdall sneered at it. There was a symbol of Vanaheim carved into it. Apparently that was enough for the elves to think it held any significance. Lost fools, the lot of them.

As if on cue, there was a ruckus behind you, signaling the coming of more elves. Muninn also had impeccable timing, flying into the window high above your heads. You didn’t acknowledge the bird, still lost in thought. Heimdall looked between the bird and you, knowing this was not an optimal time for a report. He had to do something…

He wasn't sure if he was doing this for Odin or you.

You didn’t hear Heimdall give the raven specific instructions and barely registered the black vortex swallowing you up. Your eyes rose, expecting to see Odin. Instead you were met with the door to his study. Heimdall held up a hand to prevent you from opening it and calmly instructed, "Gather yourself." Never had he sounded so gentle.

You looked up at him, seeing something completely different in his eyes.

Patience.

A portion of your stress was relieved, knowing he was making sure you could get out of this as soon as possible. You took a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes to focus on the moment. After a few seconds you nodded, indicating that you were steady.

Heimdall opened the door and Odin greeted you, not mentioning your lack of enthusiasm. There was a part of Heimdall, buried deep in his mind, that was almost…incensed that his superior didn't even notice. His trust in Odin overshadowed it so quickly that he barely even recognized it, like something in him chased it away of its own free will.

You were dismissed, but Odin requested Heimdall stay to complete an errand before returning to his usual routine. He did not dispute the order, but his eyes did follow your slouched form as you left.

The worry didn't cease.

He'd never rushed through his work. Every task was carried out carefully and efficiently, every time. That day was the very first he would rather check off everything on his list just to say he did it. He wanted to find you, and the need to do so was eating him alive.

The Aesir found you back at your hideaway. A good sign — that meant you weren't avoiding him. You were dejectedly plucking at your lyre. The song was barely recognizable, out of tune and off beat. You were even stopping completely at some points, your head somewhere else.

Heimdall hid behind the rock he used every time he visited before they were comfortable with each other. He'd been there for several minutes, interrogating himself. What was he doing? Why was he so set on intervening?

Because you would do the same for him. Because he hated seeing you like this. Because knowing you were so hollow made him ache. Because he wanted to sit and read while you happily played music like you always did. Because he wanted to.

He should have just turned around and left. What was he going to do? Just fix something he couldn't control? What was the point? Surely you would move on eventually. Cheering you up wasn't his problem.

Yet he stood there, book tucked away in his belt and having no idea what he would do once he revealed himself. In the end he just sighed in frustration. These things were so much easier to deal with when he didn't ask questions. So he stopped.

Heimdall walked up the rest of the hill, making extra noise so you would know he was coming. You didn’t even look up, unfocused eyes on the empty fire pit in front of you. He just stood next to you for a bit, waiting for you to notice he was even there. You never did. Heimdall sighed and sat down next to you, the creaking of the wood and shifting of the bench finally snapping you out of your thoughts. At long last your eyes met his, and he saw how soulless they felt. So many words popped into his mind but they disappeared as soon as they came, well before they could be said. He was still left clueless and unsure.

You eventually looked away, going back to sloppily playing the lyre. Your mind was still closed, and you offered no words. A sign that you didn't want to talk about anything just yet.

Again, he should have left as soon as he realized he wouldn't get anything out of you.

But he stayed. He just took out his book and started reading until it was dark and you both had to leave. Heimdall offered to call Gulltoppr to take you back to the center of the city. You refused with a silent shake of your head, and he let you go alone.

Your ritual remained, even if it was quieter than usual. You still went to that spot to play music, and he would meet you there with a book in tow.

Neither of you spoke. Heimdall didn’t gripe about his day, nor did he try to. He simply sat down next to you, never prying, never asking anything. Just there.

You did this for days. The amount of reading Heimdall did decreased with every failed attempt to get you to speak again. Instead he would listen to the broken tunes you played, listening for the times you suddenly stopped and stared into space. Whenever you did, he cleared his throat, shifted, did something discreet that would shake you out of it and get you back to playing, believing that would provide some distraction from whatever was happening inside. Really, he wasn't even there to relax and read anymore. He was just there for you, doing the same thing over and over. Each time Heimdall would come by, sit down by you, pretend to read until it was dark, ask if you wanted to be taken home — which you always refused — and let you leave when you wished.

It was somehow exhausting. His worry kept growing, and his frustration with not knowing how to quell it grew twice as fast.

Until something changed.

He was at his wits end. Nearly ten days of this and no progress. How could there be when all you two did was sit in silence? The part of him that wanted to give up and go back to his own business was becoming almost too strong to ignore, and he was tired of constantly worrying and wondering what he was supposed to do here. No matter how much he wanted to just stand up and leave like you had never been friends in the first place, he just couldn't do it. Not until he heard you sass him again, until your lyre played the songs he now knew by heart.

Gods, he wanted to hear you sing.

Then it happened.

"Heimdall?"

He almost jumped. Your voice was so foreign by then that it was almost unrecognizable. But it sounded so wonderful.

His head turned to acknowledge you with only a raised brow.

"Does it ever get easier?" Your whisper was so small, fragile.

With your mind still hidden from him it took him a moment to consider what you were referring to. Heimdall looked down, unable to say it while watching your expression. "No."

It was the truth. Even after decades of seeing how conniving and selfish people were, it still irritated him to no end — to see how false they were, how the inside never matched the outside. He raised his eyes to watch your reaction. There was not a glimpse of your mind, but he didn't need his foresight to feel the sorrow and despair that was drowning you. It was gut wrenching to watch, so much so that he spat out the one thing he had disregarded until this point. "If it changes anything…"

Your eyes lifted and he saw the hope in them. He latched onto it like his life depended on it. "The matron's final words that she didn't finish…she wanted to say that she didn't mean any of it."

You blinked at him for a few moments before your gaze fell again, thinking to yourself. Heimdall added, "I'm sure you know what my opinion is about it, but…" he paused, not believing his own words. "Perhaps it helps."

Another change. This one made him sit up straighter, he was so shocked.

Your thoughts. They were still blocked but he felt a tiny sliver of them. You were letting him in, just a little bit. That's how he saw that, for once, you agreed with him.

The matron's final words didn't mean anything. They didn't line up with her actions, which meant her regrets were a result of distaste for the consequences. They weren't real.

As much as Heimdall liked to be right and have others know it, the sinking of your spirits robbed him of whatever satisfaction he could have had.

He moved without thinking. Heimdall pushed himself just a little to his left, scooting closer to you. You'd never been this close before, so close that your knees were just barely touching. The contact had more of an effect than he expected, evidenced by the crack in the walls around your mind. You shifted just a little closer, your shoulders now side by side.

For the first time since you had gone silent he felt relieved and at ease.

A couple hours later, once it was around the time you usually went your separate ways, Heimdall followed you to the base of the hill, where he left Gulltoppr to wait for him.

"Need an escort this time?" Heimdall asked, his usual smirk making its first appearance.

The air in his lungs grew twice as hot when you gave just a hint of a smile and spoke once again. "Maybe. But I feel like walking back." You thanked him and went on your way, wanting to use the time to think. Heimdall should have hopped on Gulltoppr and left you alone. Yet once again, it felt wrong, like he was skipping out on something he needed to do.

Well, not thinking had gotten him this far.

You were almost trapped in your own mind again when Gulltoppr lumbered past you, Heimdall absent. You stared, puzzled until Heimdall appeared next to you. His sincere grin nearly made your heart skip a beat. "Gulltoppr isn't required for an escort."

You smiled brightly and looked down, feeling very shy. "The watchman himself degraded by a simple escort? You must really be bored."

There. There it was, that quick wit and sharp tongue that even he had a hard time matching. That flame within you was coming back to life. How he craved its heat.

The following three days were similar, except you let him in just a little more each day. It turned out to be a good exercise for Heimdall, allowing him to practice entering a mind that wasn't wide open for him. He doubted it would be useful in the long run, but it didn't hurt to give it a shot. By the end of the third day he could feel more than you were giving away, which let him know that you were slowly leaving the damage behind. Your music became familiar, the strokes of the lyre's strings and flute's notes more consistent. You exchanged some words, even if they weren't as carefree as they usually were.

Then the fourth day came.

It was the same as the last few days. You were playing the flute, though still not singing. Your sorrow lingered, leaving you quiet and reluctant to share your thoughts, but not as empty as you had been. You still lacked your usual energy, the spice that made things interesting. Heimdall was reading a book next to you, sitting close enough for your thighs to touch. He was aching to hear you sing, but not willing to soil his pride by asking. Your mind was mostly open, and he had gotten better at clipping its bindings already, which helped him notice that you had something to say. When your song was finished, he said with boredom, "Go on."

Your flute went to your lap and you fiddled with the engravings along the bone structure, nervous. Heimdall could have looked over at you and into your eyes to find out for himself if you gave him enough time to dig in, but instead he chose tolerance. It took a few minutes for you to get it out. "I just…I wanted to thank you."

"For…?" He didn’t look up from the page he was reading.

"For doing this."

Purple eyes lifted to meet yours. You thought he had done something? Despite the fact that he had been sitting there thinking he was wasting time for days? He stretched out the fingers that weren't needed to stabilize his book like he was gesturing to his current position. "I wouldn't say I've done anything."

You shrugged, a small smile appearing while you looked down. "No, but…" you bit your lip timidly, hesitating. "You were here. And that's enough."

That was enough?

That was it? He just had to sit next to you and that was all you wanted from him? All you needed? It wasn't even necessary to say anything, to even try to make any difference? It was that simple?

Of course it was. You'd always been like this.

Your irises rose once more, and while looking into your mind he saw it, clear as day. Yes, that was all you wanted. His presence alone was comforting. His presence was special.

Something stirred his stomach in a way that made him feel…nauseous? No, that's not it, it was too pleasant.

He ripped his gaze away and firmly planted it on the book, pretending that he thought nothing of your unconscious admission. "I don't see why that means anything. It's not as if I was forced to be here."

"Maybe not, but you could have been anywhere else. I'm sure standing on the wall and looking at whatever is on the other side would be nicer than this." He disagreed entirely. Your music, even if disjointed, was still so soothing. Even if there was no music, he just felt better when he checked on you.

He didn’t need to tell you that, though. You didn't need to know he was doing any of this for anyone other than himself. Putting on the most detached and uninterested tone, he drawled, "Does it matter if—" Then it hit him. Suddenly he was appalled, staring at you like you had sprouted horns. "What?"

You almost cowered at the dramatic reaction. "What?"

"What did you say?"

"That you could have been on the wall?"

"Looking at 'whatever is on the other side?'"

"...yes?"

"You haven't seen the Plains of Ida? After this long in Asgard?"

For a moment you thought he was just being his typical theatrical self, but by the level of offense on his face you could see he was serious. With a sheepish shrug you said, "I've seen it from the realm tower."

Heimdal harshly scoffed, "That's a terrible view, Tyr's worthless temple is in the way."

"Is it really that different?"

Unbelievable. Absolutely unacceptable. The finest scenery in the realm, the splendor of Asgard on full display, and you hadn't seen it? It was a crime to him, that someone like yourself hadn't gotten the full scope of his home's beauty.

Why hadn't he thought of this remedy before?

Heimdall snapped the book shut and stood with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, come on then." He headed down the path without any explanation.

You nearly stumbled trying to catch up while you returned your flute to its pouch and tied it to your belt. "Where are we going?"

"Where else?"

"To the wall? Why?"

You reached the base of the hill, the shadows from the low hanging sun stretching across the grass. Gulltoppr heard the approaching footsteps, stirring from his nap and stretching. "I refuse to associate with someone so uncultured."

You grinned. There was his language, covering up that he just wanted to show you something. It was almost cute how hard he tried to hide it. "Is it really considered 'uncultured?' I haven't seen anyone else casually wander up there to enjoy the view." Given Heimdall's association with the wall, it made sense.

Heimdall ordered Gulltoppr to lie on his belly, low enough for you to easily mount. He hopped on, still fussing. "Only the little people remain ignorant." His hand went down to you.

You took it, simply holding it while you looked up and said, "So you don't think I'm a 'little person?'"

He froze, his hand still closed around yours while he scrambled for an excuse. It was incredibly difficult when you looked at him like that, filled with so much innocent embarrassment. He ended up murmuring, "You wouldn't serve All-Father if you were."

You wanted to point out that plenty of these 'little people' did, in fact, serve Odin, even if in small ways. You chose to keep it to yourself, noticing that he was just a little bashful. He wasn't paying much attention either. When he pulled you up to Gulltoppr’s saddle he placed you in front of him this time, your back flush against him.

And it was really, really comfortable. You hoped his foresight couldn't tell him that you were blushing.

Heimdall seemed to pause, like he had just registered what he did. He played along, acting like it was intentional. It was only a short ride to the secondary lift, this was fine.

It was fine.

It was not fine.

It was…great.

Your hair brushing his neck in the wind, your hand grasping his wrist to steady yourself when Gulltoppr stepped over uneven ground, feeling you lean back into him for no reason he could pick out. Reading you, seeing the steady climb in your mental state the longer you were against him.

Why had he never done this before? Why was he so wary when it felt this good?

Gulltoppr's heavy steps ceased in front of the lift. This one was smaller, going straight up the side of the wall. It rested on a wooden platform with a short set of stairs leading to it, similar to the main lift that connected the wall to the heart of Gladsheim. You eyed the barren structure, thinking it didn't look as sturdy as you would like. "I didn't know this was here."

"Most don't."

Heimdall let you hop off the gradungr before dismounting, going up the stairs without hesitation. You were still concerned. "Does it still work?"

"You accuse me of neglecting it?" Heimdall turned and placed a shocked hand over his chest, as if he had just heard a drunkard ramble about the most vulgar activities. "If anything falls into disrepair, I make it known and ensure it is resolved."

A tiny laugh, tickled by how prideful he was just for bossing people around. "I hardly say you're avoiding neglect by telling someone else to fix it." Heimdall's smile spread so wide that his cheeks hurt.

Yes. Yes. The fire burned hotter. You were returning to the goddess you were meant to be.

He regained his composure before his delight could become obvious. You climbed the stairs but had yet to join him on the lift. With raised brows Heimdall asked, "Are you coming? Or did you require a formal invitation?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't."

It was too late. Heimdall cleared his throat, back straightening into a priggish posture. Loudly and dramatically, so much so that it was clearly satirical, he announced, "The Scion of the Aesir hereby formally invites the goddess before him to board this elevator so that we may finally get on with this!"

Your hand flew to your face in exasperation, sighing at how ridiculous he had to be. "I get it, you can stop now." You pushed past him, your laughter almost as full as it had always been. Heimdall felt a surge of accomplishment course through him at the sound, nearly stunned by it. Now that it had been so long since he heard it, it was so much more fulfilling. He bottled it up and swallowed the excitement, turning the lever that activated the lift, prompting the rickety wood to ascend. Heimdall knew it would take a few minutes and made himself comfortable by leaning against the wooden railing. This lift was smaller than the main one, big enough for only a few people at once. Despite that, you abandoned the space you claimed to join him, standing much closer than you needed to. He had to consciously refrain from looking at you, forcing himself to appear indifferent.

Wood creaked as the lift came to a halt, much smoother and more stable than you expected, thankfully. Heimdall exited first, leading you onto the cold stone peak of the wall. Never had you feared heights, but not even your ability to conjure valkyrie wings prevented the shiver from running up your spine when you looked down the lift you had just ridden. You scampered away, closing the short distance Heimdall had put between you.

At the edge of the wall there were giant boulders that were carved into more rectangular shapes, like they were bricks that were abandoned when the wall was finished. One laid on its longer side, its width rising high enough to meet the base of you ribcage. Heimdall stopped just shy of this stone and turned to you, nodding his head towards the precipice. You followed his lead, cautious of approaching the edge. It wasn't as if there was any secret as to what was on the other side, or that there was any danger of accidentally falling given the large barriers on this section of the wall. All that caused your hesitation was the anticipation.

With a few more strides your eyes finally met the valley below, growing wide as your jaw dropped. The plains were absolutely gorgeous, littered with a maze of streams and rivers, the rich green landscape having orange highlights and heavy shadows from the sunset. The rainbow bridge, spawning far to the right, glowed a beautiful white with glittering colors, stretching into the clouds and disappearing over the stout mountains in the distance. Unbeknownst to you, Heimdall was pleased by your reaction. You had arrived not too long before nightfall, when you could see the sparkling colors of the light bridge reflecting in the rivers across the plains. He couldn't wait to see your eyes light up at the sight.

"This is…amazing!" You gasped, placing your hands on the stone brick. "You see this every day?"

Heimdall chuckled, joining you in gazing at the beauty of Asgard. "It never gets old," he sighed in wonder, resting his elbows on the stone. For you, it was yet another reminder that Heimdall truly adored his home.

"And you'll let me stay long enough to see the bridge after it gets dark?" You asked, phrasing it as a joke, but you really did hope you were allowed to stay that long. It would likely be about an hour until then.

Heimdall hummed, pretending the answer required serious consideration. "I suppose. It's not every day I permit someone to remain on my wall."

An embarrassing snort left you before you could stop it. "Your wall?"

Purple eyes met yours, standing up straight and smirking like the arrogant man he was. "My wall."

"Isn't it Asgard’s wall?"

"The wall is in Asgard, true." He slowly paced next to you, holding out his arms as you watched him in amusement. "But it is my presence that hangs in the air, the stone worn down by my boots."

Unimpressed, you droned, "Poetic, but not convincing."

Heimdall rejoined you, retaining his earlier position. "I could push you off."

He received a playful glare that he reveled in. "You wouldn't dare. You know I'd take you with me."

Your snickers rang together, dying down and blending into the silence. There was nothing more to say. It was simply two souls admiring the land as it faded into serene darkness, the light of the bifrost bridge showering the field with rainbow specks of light. It was so comfortable, so natural. Heimdall was more content than he had been in…well, he couldn't even remember how long.

Over time he felt things change. Your mind began to wander, returning to the melancholy that had consumed you over the past couple weeks. Heimdall's chest grew tight when he noticed it. He was back to square one, wondering what he was supposed to do with something like this. Yes, you had made it clear that he didn't necessarily need to do anything, but staying idle while you slowly sunk into your gloom did nothing to convince him that was true. It made him feel helpless in a way, and that he despised more than anything. To think, all this was because of that damned elf who was too shortsighted and greedy to see beyond her own needs and wants, too blind to recognize just how remarkable you were.

It inspired a train of thought, one that he voiced before he could bury it. "Don't doubt your value."

You froze, shocked at the statement, but even more so at how soft and sincere his tone was.

"Asgard attracts everyone, but only grants entry to the ones who matter," he continued, eyes refusing to meet yours, lest he start to actually think about what he was saying out loud. "You are one of those it has deemed worthy. You are someone that matters. Don't let another take that away from you."

There. He said it, now it was over. The urge to just turn around and leave was almost impossible to resist. It was so tempting to just walk away and pretend this never happened, avoid you while the memory of this moment faded into oblivion. But no. He wouldn't be a coward about this. He said what needed to be said. The truth was spoken. There was no reason to run away from that.

Even so, his stomach twisted in knots when he felt the elation his words gave you. You were so relieved, so elevated, so overjoyed to hear someone — to hear him say it. He didn't look at you but he could feel your irises staring at his profile with a bright grin. "That…was very sweet, Heimdall." You sensed his sudden discomfort and defaulted to behaviors that he was more familiar with, your smile morphing into a smirk. "I'm not sure if you're just playing with me."

Heimdall finally looked your way, brow furrowing in vexation. He immediately wished he didn't. The endearment in your expression made him tingle. "I always say what I mean, you know that." Try as he might, he couldn't keep it from sounding breathy.

You didn’t miss a beat, though your voice became airy as well. "You do. But you just came out and said it. You didn't say it in your 'special language' this time."

He groaned, ripping his eyes away. "That's because it doesn't exist."

"It certainly does." The giggle that followed seemed to lift a weight off of his shoulders.

"Don't get used to it. I merely said it so you would move on. It'll keep you out of the way in the future." As flat and condescending as it sounded, he truly hoped that wouldn't happen.

You rested your chin on your hand, thinking. "I don't know about that. Now that I've seen how nice it is up here, I might come back sometime. Maybe pay you a visit while you're hard at work."

That sounded…perfect. He wanted you to keep that promise. As a result he couldn't say anything to refute it, or come up with any excuse for rejecting your whims. If he did he would be lying, and you were the last — well, second to last person he would ever lie to.

So he said nothing.

His lack of response caught your attention. You took on a more carefree spirit, grinning at him while saying, "I think I just figured out another part of your 'language.'" Heimdall huffed, deciding to let you go on about whatever nonsense you were thinking. "You won't lie, but you won't say certain things, so you rephrase them in a way that protects your image."

"Image?"

"However," you continued, ignoring the repulsed interruption. "If you can't rephrase what you want to say to sound more like the jerk you are, you just say nothing."

Ice seeped into his veins.

"Am I right?"

Yes…you were exactly right. He just admitted that internally.

"Which is why you called me uncultured, even though you just brought me here to cheer me up…which worked, by the way."

Nothing.

Quieter this time. "And why you won't say you don't want me to come back here?"

Not a word.

Silence from both of you. You couldn't keep a smile off of your face. Here was this god, so sure of himself, prideful, and brutal in many ways, yet when he had a reason to show even a sliver of kindness he retreated into a flimsy shell, all because he wasn't willing to pretend he didn't actually care. It was, despite how much he would hate the term, adorable. There were these pockets of gold that he had buried deep in his heart, and the more of them you stumbled upon, the more you wanted to free them from their confines. But for once — for the first time — he revealed them first, solely because he didn't want you to be crestfallen any longer.

No one would ever believe it if you said it, but he could be a caring man if he wanted to. And on this night, he wanted to. He wanted to care for you.

You stepped back from the rocks, the course of your thoughts amplifying how touched you were by his efforts. It must have been daunting, even for him, to take that leap of faith and trust you with his care — care that he found no other worthy of — and yet he did it anyway.

You turned to face him completely. Heimdall eyed you, tentatively mirroring your action.

Then it happened. He felt it coming. He saw that you were going to do it.

He let it happen.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself close, burying your face in his neck. Heimdall stood there, stiff as stone, arms hanging dumbly at his sides. He didn't move a single muscle. He couldn't even if he tried. All he could do was remain trapped in unseen shackles while you held him.

It felt…heavenly.

Gods, it was so warm and welcoming, so genuine and gentle, so tender and affectionate. It was so…so…

He couldn't even begin to describe it. The surge of heat through his bones, the electricity barreling over his skin, the rapid beating of his heart. It was so much, so overwhelming. He didn't want it to stop.

"Thank you." That was all you said, dampened by your closeness, but just as sincere. Again, he was left unaware of what he was supposed to do. So he trusted his automatic, thoughtless reaction.

Heimdall's hands raised slowly, stopping a few times on their way up your torso. He hesitated one last time, his hands just inches away from you. His fingers were trembling, completely overtaken by the desire rising in him. He gave in. His hands settled on your back, barely touching you at first. Then something inside him took over, firmly pressing his hands into your clothes, bringing you closer to him.

Why hadn't he done this sooner?

He felt a joy radiate from you, so delighted that he returned the gesture. Whatever leftover sadness you hid was swept away, leaving you to bask in his touch unhindered. You enjoyed this…just as much as he did.

He loved that.

The still air was broken by your tiny voice, just barely above a whisper. "What can I do?" You felt him look down at you a little more, confused. "To thank you."

It felt insane to him. You thought this moment wasn't enough. As much as he didn't want to say it, even to himself, it definitely was.

That wasn't what came out. His next line was completely out of his control. "I don't need anything, Songbird."

There it was again. That one comparison that had now become a nickname. It was unintentional, the possibility never crossing his mind until he said it. Now he wanted to use it all the time.

Maybe he would. A gust of happiness overflowed from your being and through his foresight. You were just as happy with it.

It also gave you an idea.

You started singing.

How long had it been? It felt like ages. Lifetimes. Your voice was muffled by his chest, but just as rich, just as divine. It was his favorite piece. Truly he liked all of your songs, but this one made him forget the world existed and let him bathe in serenity. He did just that, his neck finally relaxing and letting his nose rest in your hair.

It was there, relishing in your warmth as he held you close, listening to your sweet voice, that he knew. He knew and he accepted.

He didn't just like you.

He wasn't just fond of you.

He wanted you.

The raven departed to return to its master. Huginn had seen enough.

#Heimdall #heimdall gow #heimdall god of war #god of war #songbird of asgard #heimdall x reader

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woltourney · 2 years ago

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ROUND 3 / SIDE B / POLL 4

Naru (@blucifer08) v. Vastha Mhakaracca (@incense-and-iron / @wanderer-of-light)

Naru:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Naru, she/her

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Xaela

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Reaper

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. N/A

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Naru became a hero in search of a missing piece of herself! She never felt satisfied in her home of the Steppe. She was an orphan, and although she had an adopted family, she sought out more from beyond the Steppe. She enjoys helping, but I don't think she likes the word 'hero.' In her free time she paints environmental paintings, tries out her bartender friend's drink combinations, and sunbathing :)

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. "Ah… I'm not too sure. I suppose I'll win if fate chooses me. I'll accept failure, no matter how bitter… Though I don't see it as likely."

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. In my canon, she got fully turned into a sin eater and she uses light instead of void powers as a reaper :)

Vastha Mhakaracca:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Vastha Mhakaracca [He/They]

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Miqote - Keeper of the Moon

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Main classes: Dragoon, Dark Knight, Monk, Reaper, Dancer

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. N/A

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. I'm a happy guy! Like to entertain my friends and put a smile on other people's faces. I ended up becoming a hero after following (partly) in my mother's footsteps-- she was a lancer and gave me her old lance when I wanted to leave home to adventure. It kind of broke ages ago… but I still have it! So she shouldn't be too mad about it. Hopefully, heh. Uh, anyway, I enjoy dancing and have tons of experience in managing and entertaining people since my family runs a small inn on the side of some nameless road. As for liking being a hero… it's complicated; as much as I really wish it wasn't that way. It use to be so easy and fun. Simple, even. There was still danger of course, but… I dunno. Fighting five giant ladybugs doesn't really match up in danger levels as the types of things I've been up too as of late [[<-- post EW content]]. Not to mention all the worst parts of having so much on your shoulders, things I really don't want to get into for such a fun event. B-But, don't take it as if I don't want to be a hero!! I can do it, so I want to do it. And it's not a 'If I don't do it, no one will', either. I think there are people who definitely could and would. People who have pulled way more weight through all this than I have. Even so, with all the pain and trouble I've been though, it's worth it at the end of the day. Knowing that I've helped so many people, that I have the power to keep the worst at bay, that I can make a change in the world and have that change try and be something good and positive and kind: that's what makes me like such a dangerous and oftentimes thankless job. Free time? Well, there's: dancing, cooking [[Culinarian is at level 90]], tending to my new island hangout, I've been doing LOTS of sightseeing-- Oh! I LOVE taking pictures and doing photography. Mostly of landscapes, they're just easier for me to work with than people; not to say I don't snap pictures of my friends now and again. What else… Oh! I've been taking up other crafting jobs as well since I have the spare time. It gives me something to keep my hands busy and lets me go out and collect more plants and rocks. I always liked going out to collect random stuff, but some of my older sisters, who I ended up bullied into hiring on as retainers so they could keep tabs on me away from home, got tired of me dumping popotos and iron ingots onto them to figure out how to sell en mass every week. I saw nothing wrong with it, but it really just must be me. Hmm… A lot more stuff about me is kind of personal. While I'm a rather open guy and like to chat, there's even some stuff I don't like talking about too casually or with strangers, sorry! Maybe we can be friends? I'm always open to new friends! Let's talk more sometime, okay?

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. Why should I win? Oh man, I just think it'd be neat! "Vastha Mhakaracca, winner of the…" uh, what was this called again? Oh, right! "winner of the WoLTourney 2023!" Could even put that on my little adventure card thingy just for fun.

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. Some other facts about Vastha he didn't get to cover himself: Transmasc [he/they] and gay (despite all the handsome bachelors in game, he hasn't fallen for more past a short lived crush or two.) He has 4 older sisters, making him the youngest in the family He use to be more meek and shy, which turned to 'all talk no bite', which turned out to now where he's more mellow and friendly but will not hesitate to throw hands if someone starts something He actually likes to do fetch quests because it lets him explore local areas to take more pictures Vastha comes off as a bit of a dunce and a ~stoopid widdle catboi~ to people because he likes to have fun and goof around like he use too (before all the horrors (tm) of being an adventurer). He notices, but doesn't comment on it. He'd rather people keep thinking it and underestimate him so he can prove them wrong through action. And with so much life experience now, he really doesn't care what others think of him anymore; he knows himself and that's all he can control in life. Despite being so giddy and friendly, the man does have some things he dislikes a normal degree, and other things (and people) he hates with the rage of a thousand suns-- which upon mention of will immediately switch his mood to more sour and serious. It's rare to stumble across such topics, thankfully.

#💎 shout #💎 round three

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chaeinedup · 2 years ago

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Hot and Cold

CH16- Steady wins the race

Warning: just sweet words

previous// //next

[1:12AM]

Time was flying by a little too fast. As much as you tried to savour every moment once you looked at the time anxiety started to settle in. It's not that he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's quite the opposite. He makes you feel like love is worth your time at least with him. And as complicated as you can be you don't want to lose him.

You guys never had THE conversation but you don't need it, it's pretty clear how you both feel about each other. Always making sure the other one is okay, loved and taken care of. In the beginning it was a little scary, opening up to someone new is risky but it was so worth it. Summer can be a wonderful season to fall in love in, plenty of time to create memories that you'll remember when you're 80 and reminiscing on your teenager years. And like the sun, Jake brought you happiness, comfort, fun and all things nice. Brought you will to be better for you and everyone around you.

You were set to let go of your toxic habits and hopefully he could help you with this journey.

Jake: Are you okay?

Y/n: Yeah sorry I just got in my head for a while.

Jake: What is it? Is something wrong?

Y/n: Actually no, everything has been really good. Can I tell you something? - you said while reaching for his hands, putting them on your lap.

Jake: Of course, shoot.

Y/n: Soooo you know how we love spending time together and how close we've gotten ? Yeah so it's safe to say that I have feelings for you, and it's weird that I'm just saying it like this, like I'm just so comfortable that I'm able to talk about my feelings for you, with you. I'd like to think you feel the same way, from all the things you've said to me and the way you act, I think so but I don't want to take your kindness and politness as liking me cause I could be wrong. So I want you to tell me if you do feel the same way.

He was frozen, starry eyed and mouth wide open. He was caught by surprise, he wasn't expecting a love confession from you today. He had his planned for next week. But nonetheless he was thrilled to finally be able to tell you how he feels. He has tried to always be as lowkey as possible but the truth is, every time he's with you his heart threatens to rip his chest apart. He wants nothing more but to spoil you and spend all his time by your side.

Jake: I'm not gonna lie, you caught me off guard. I was gonna confess to you next week, nice food, flowers, walk on the beach, the whole nine yards but you beat me to it. Like you always do.

Y/n: What's that supposed to mean?

Jake: You kissed me first and you confessed first, I'm really gonna have to do better.

You were both smiling like a couple of fools, who would've guessed that you would fall for each other this quickly. Definitely not you two or Sunghoon. Without letting go of your hands he kneeled in front of you.

Jake: I don't think I have much to say, I think my heart has shown just how much I care for you but because you want me to I will try to express myself as best as I can. Since the day that I met you I thought you were so sweet, you smile so bright it's almost like you're a star you have this glow to you and its contagious. Being around you makes me giddy, makes me feel like I want to hide my face because you make me blush when you look me in the eyes. Y/n, whatever you think makes you complicated, it doesn't, it makes you, you. And I love every part of you even the ones I haven't seen.

You were at a loss for words, he really hit you where it hurts, your lovesick heart. Jake makes you want that clingy, "can't live without you" type of love, even if both of you are not that type.

Y/n: You're gonna make me cry if you keep being so sweet to me.

Jake: Then I'll gladly wipe your tears for you, I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. Would you like that?

Y/n: Are you kidding??!! I would love that.

He placed his hands on your cheeks and placed the softest most delicate kiss someone ever gave you. The way he handled you with so much care made you weak and tears started to fall. He gently wipped them away as he promised.

Jake: I guess I finally beat you to it.

You both chuckled loudly making bystanders steal glances at you both. But in moments like these the world stops and the only thing that matters is how wonderful love is.

[Taglist: @jakewife @bluxjun ]

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dollarbin · 7 months ago

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Dollar Bin #36:

Love Has No Pride

My local record store is hard at work purging $5 titles from table top bins and dooming them to the higgeldy piggeldy Dollar Bins beneath. Are you longing for some Neil Diamond or Captain and Tennille? Well, you're in luck: you can seize their entire 70's catalogs for 93 pre-tax cents a piece. I've passed altogether on both artists so far, but who knows, maybe one day I'll discover that corpulent dogs, medalions and chest hair are the keys to great music.

I got gleefully down on my knees last week and combed through it all, emerging with 15 titles for 15 bucks. Here's the hoard:

Will I ever actually listen to Melanie's first record or Linda Ronstadt wingman Andrew Gold's attempt at a solo album? Maybe? Will I make good on my long ago promise to listen to an unmelted version of Art Garfunkel's Watermark? Someday.

I did listen to Poco's first record, which you can see above, with some anticipation: my famous brother recently recommended it as, basically, another Buffalo Springfield record. But when my eldest daughter asked me to please turn it the hell off I eagerly complied. It sounded more than un poco terrible.

But the treasure, so far, from this latest Dollar Bin haul are three Bonnie Raitt records from the 70's.

Raitt's Nick of Time was a big deal when I first discovered as a kid that VH1 was often less terrifying than MTV. And so I developed an early bias against Bonnie that still lingers. She didn't look like Janet Jackson or sing Tom Petty; plus I was uncomfortable with a lady having some gray hair while rocking the blues: 13 years old boys can be sexist little brats.

But I'm a guy who likes to second guess my biases, and so when I came upon her titles last week in the Dollar bin I remembered that Raitt is friends with Ronstadt and I know have more gray hair than Raitt. And so, I figured, what the hell did I have to lose for 93 cents?

And that brings us to today's topic: Eric Kaz's 70's torch song Love Has No Pride. Is it an essential piece of the 70's musical expression? Probably not. The song's a bit overwrought and features some regrettable nonsense about wishing you could buy your beloved's affections; either Kaz wasn't familiar with the song and/or concept Can't Buy Me Love, which seems pretty damn unlikely, or he wished his lady in question would give up her day job and become a woman of ill repute, which is hopefully not the deal, or he just ran out of things to say and grabbed at something silly.

For what it's worth, if you are gonna involve female sex workers in your music I recommend you either get weird and have them bend down to tie the laces of your shoe or go full Ringo and call them women of the night with a big silly grin.

youtube

Even so, Love Has No Pride clearly resonated with the record buying public in the early 70's as Raitt, Ronstadt and then Rita Coolidge each issued complimentary versions of the track between 71 and 74. Let's consider them in reverse chronological order, beginning with Coolidge's effort on what may be her best record, Fall Into Spring.

I want to start with Rita, whose records unfairly clog up many a Dollar Bin, because her version of Love Has No Pride is surely why the song dwells in my bones. Coolidge was in my extended family when I was born as she and Kris Kristofferson were still married and Kris, as you can read elsewhere, is my mother's cousin. And so I grew up utterly familiar with Rita's smokey smolder of a voice from my mom's 8 tracks and country radio.

I have no memory of ever actually meeting her, and I doubt I ever did. I was surely left with a babysitter on the rare occasion when my folks hung out with Kris and Rita because, after all, drunken debauchery, which was the performers' calling card, doesn't mix well with babies, especially homely looking ones. And I was mighty homely.

Anyway, take a listen to Rita's version: it's stately and elegant; nothing is forced and nothing is too complicated.

youtube

Nice huh? Coolidge consistently drags at the pace, indifferent to anyone who could ever rush her. And by the end we need reminders that she's got an ace band around her: everything in this song centers on Rita and we can't blame the cat on the cover for trying to claim her full attention.

It was a pretty gutsy move on Coolidge's part to record the track; after all, two years earlier Linda Ronstadt had ignored its torch song potential and instead lit up an entire barn. Listen to her throw everything at the tune: we've got back up singers, galloping percussion, 16 different guitar sounds, emerging strings and, at the center of it all, like a detonating star, her own titanic voice.

youtube

Ronstadt is one of my favorite singers of all time, and her take on Love Has No Pride is always welcome on my turntable. That said, I prefer Coolidge's slower, simpler arrangement, and I suspect Linda did too. After putting out her version of Love Has No Pride Linda let go of female backing choirs altogether and let a new producer, Peter Asher, help her streamline her arrangements in honor of her voice and solo gesture.

And so, now you know: Rita's take came through the bars of my crib and my own kids grew up with Linda's.

But The Dollar Bin is a mighty force, and it holds many secrets. And, until this last week, Raitt's original take from 71 was one of them.

And maybe, just maybe, her version is the best of the bunch:

youtube

Raitt sings the song so simply. Barns don't catch fire, torches are not lit. Instead we've got sweet picking, gurgling bass and a brave woman giving us some straight talk about how she feels and who she loves.

Wow. Bonnie Raitt, people! I'll race you back to those Dollar Bins; looks like it's time to track down the rest of her 70's catalog.

#Youtube #bonnie raitt #linda ronstadt #rita coolidge

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accio-sriracha · 1 year ago

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Small snippet of a Wolfstar Summer WIP I'm writing: Let me know what you guys think!

~~~♤~~~

The Summer We Fell.

Sirius' room was the complete opposite of James', everything was perfectly organized, not a single item out of place. The closet didn't have a door at all and only contained one leather jacket on the hangers.

The desk had a picture frame with a photo of the four of them, and a picture of just Remus and Sirius sitting beside it. There were posters of motercycles and muggle rock bands alined neatly on the wall above his bed.

"Woah." Peter laughed, spinning in a circle, "Dude your room is so clean."

Sirius scratched the back of his neck, "Kinda." He shrugged.

Remus carefully let go of his hand, walking towards the desk to pick up the photo of the two of them

"Oh, that's nothing-" He started, reaching for it. Remus got it first, he froze when he realised what it was,

"This was the day we went to hogsmeade together for the first time." He whispered. Sirius let his hand fall as Remus looked back up at him, "You kept this?"

Sirius shrugged again, "I keep everything, you know that." His voice was quiet.

Peter and James watched the exchange with wide eyes.

"Yeah, but this." He repeated, lifting the photo, "And it's on your desk."

"It was the start of a tradition, Moons. What can I say?" He laughed. It didn't sound like his normal laugh, the one that was full of energy and chaos. It was a gentle sound, nervous and hopeful.

In the picture they were embraced, holding each other close as they danced in the three broomsticks. Remus looked at the picture again and couldn't help his smile, he never realised how happy he looked in that photograph.

"I'm going to go help my mum with dinner. Wormy, you coming?" James asked quietly, not so subtly trying to give them their space.

"It was one of the best days of my life back then." Sirius mumbled after they'd left, taking a step closer and pointing at their table in the background, "You ordered my drink for me without even hesitating."

"Yeah, I mean it's complicated but you always get the same thing, it's hard not to." Remus laughed.

Sirius shook his head, "James and I have been friends for seven years and he still doesn't remember it exactly."

They locked eyes again, something intense passed through them, Remus wasn't sure if he just imagined it.

"You pay attention, Moons. It's something I-" Sirius stopped and decided against whatever it was he was going to say, "Something I admire you for." He said instead.

"That's something I admire about you too." Remus said honestly.

"Moony! Padfoot! Dinner's ready!" James called, his voice sounding hilariously similar to his mother's.

"We should go." Remus whispered, taking a step back and setting the photo back down, "Thank you for always being there for me."

Sirius bowed his head slightly, "Thank you for letting me."

~~~♤~~~

Hopefully you enjoyed! If you want to read any of my full works my AO3 link is in my description :)

Lots of Love,

-Sriracha.

#marauders era #marauders #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #sirius is so gay #wip #harry potter

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chatadile2 · 1 year ago

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Hi! Would you be willing to share anything more about your sidestep? 👀 no pressure, of course, but I’d love to hear more about them!

Hihi, yee don't mind don't mind, thank you for the ask and the interest in her!

One thing before I do tho, that this might change later on mattering from how the next 2 books will be when they come out (not like I'm gonna really remember my choices, so probably will replay and deviate from how I did originally in most things), but overall it shouldn't really, just wanna let my Sidestep actually have a happy life after what happened and be able to heal <:D

Also this is going to be long from what I have written so far, way more than I expected, but hope it's alr :D

(It probably has spoilers in there, but tried to not say too much to make sure anyone reading won't be getting the full picture, till they get there. Also edited it, so it has a cut, cause realised that it might take up more space in searches than I want it to)

-Her name is Tiaxy Draconic (based on my sona since I like to have her in any kind of interactive book story to see what can happen with her and to enjoy the story a bit more personally), a gal with white skin, longer braided blond hair and green eyes, who is a seasoned tech-savy tactician, that becomes very conflicted by the events retribution towards her own self, her villain persona, puppet, life and emotions overall making things more complicated than ever,

-Big sweet toothed telepath, favourite sweet specifically is cheescake!

-Her villain name is Tiamat, based on the goddess and looks somewhat like what they designed for her in the game Smite (Overall my sona herself is connected in a way to the goddess in her own lore outside of the books, so seemed most fitting to make it her villain self's armor), but made to fit the story a bit better, other than with the armor having an expressive face on the helmet, which can show her emotions well enough when she wants it to that can be controlled with cams inside the head aimed at her face and with through the ui. The armor itself wouldn't be exactly like the book describes, being apart, but together, like the power armor in fallout (much more to my liking for what I'm imagining an armor of hers is). It's in the terrifying category with speed, jet boost and telepathy enhancing, helping to keep the "no hit record" alive and well enough that she only got hit majorly once, she isn't planning to get hit majorly anymore even if the armor can take it,

-Main motivation as a villain is justice and truth on the other side and she is an anarchist in the 1st playthrough, mattering from which I like, might switch to another (not really into the politics, but doesn't mean I didn't like punting a guy in one of the later missions tho),

-Her base is an abandoned office building (or whatever it was, can't remember the exact name atm), she refurbished it enough to live there, making sure her armor is close enough by for easy access, old apartment wasn't bad though, she lived well enough, manipulating rich peeps to give her their money, funding her life easily, puppet stayed above the apartment after she moved though,

-As a villain, she isn't trying to kill anyone, atleast any civilians (anyone else will get punted if they are in the way), knows they aren't the problem and tries to show the truth to them and to overall everyone, trying to plant doupt where it needs to be present, even if it's naive at that time, her goals are overall heroic rather than villanious,

-She might pretend a lot, masking as she had always done in fear of being seen and recognised, she is trying/starting to be more positive and genuine towards the end, not by much, but it's way bigger difference then in rebirth with her being very antisocial, it might bite her later though, like before, but hopefully can get out of trouble in the next books,

-Says she doesn't want to keep her friends, yet does, doesn't wanna interact with them, yet does and runs into them by accident a lot, doesn't want to love anyone, yet again does and says things she says she didn't actually want and why did she even do so, for example, she agreed to get together with Herald when she didn't exactly plan to, surpising even her own self and ofc making Herald very happy (he is too much of a positive influence on her, both physical and mental, and she couldn't say no, even tho she thinks she wanted to, she didn't, she can't deny it >:]),

-She overall knows something is wrong with her, broken (literally, yknow yknow when), and instead of keeping the destructive habits, tries to get herself together proper and tries to heal, as well as her own self allows and is able of course, and even tries to accept herself somewhat even if it's very hard, she agreed to see the therapist too by Ortega's wishes and recommendation in rebirth and didn't push them away too much in retri, didn't reveal too much either, but wasn't overall hostile, so didn't really regret it that much compared to when she agreed to it and said it helped some,

-Nightmares are still plenty regardless of change (which I hope will change later and she actually can get sleep, cause my god she needs it, every sidestep needs to have a good night sleep),

-As mentioned, she is starting to accept herself, so she is starting to use her puppet a bit less after 2 years and deciding to start going by herself more to wherever she needs to be or mainly in armor rather most of the time though,

-Speaking of the puppet, his name is Jake a white skinned, green eyed, black and green wild haired guy, who got together with Ortega in rebirth and are eternally flirting in retri, which is still the case by the end,

-Puppet met Ortega while boxing, getting some emotions out, they train whenever they can,

-As herself, she became Herald's coach, which was the extent she wanted the connection be, but things took a turn for possibly better than expected,

-Became even more friendly friends by retri with Steel, Ortega, Herald (ofc, who wouldn't) and Mortum through her puppet (broke my heart through the first playthrough tho of retri when Tia gave him the gun as herself and decided it's as good as of a time to tell him something very important [I never regretted anything more in my life, physical and mental damage irl that I didn't think was possible ;-;], hoping tho that it won't bite me later and actually be agood thing),

-Since she unintentionally (def intentionally, even if she doesn't realise) got closer with most of the rangers (other than Argent, they are netrual since rebirth), they all noticed something up with her and always ask "are you okay?", which she at the 4th time was like "why is everyone keep asking me this???", which was honestly pretty funny, getting asked so many times if she is, ofc she isn't, but she won't gonna say it just yet (she did admit it a bit though, with Ortega in rebirth, he did recommend the therapist for a reason),

-Spoon is still the best thing that happened interms of animal interactions, she enjoyed her time with Steel there a ton,

-Would absolutelly be a cat person, if she didn't know better, wouldn't mind a dog either (she needs a therapy dog by the end, I swear, hoping and praying here [even if that doesn't happen, rat king might be better for that purpose for Sidestep specifically]),

-Other than the rangers and a select few, she isn't fond of people regardless of how much change she goes through, that won't change, antisocial all the wayyy babbbyyyy other than friends ofc,

-Compared to rebirth, she calmed down a lot more from the high of her villain self's deput, still that doesn't mean she isn't excited to go and be the villain whenever the time comes, that's still exciting regardless, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have her doubts about wether or not it is truly the right path she decided upon after everything,

-Likes rainy days and water overall. Likes to just watch rainfall from her room, esp likes it when it pours. It's somehow pretty terapeutic just watching and listening to the rain fall. Whenever she is able, she does go to the beach to listen to the waves,

-Likes to wear an almost fully black coat, which is just a very dark shade of blue, likes the fact it is long and almost reach the ground, under it a light blue shirt, with long dark purple pants and formal-ish shoes that are made to make sure she can walk on wet and otherwise problematic surfaces without any trouble, and she wears white gloves.

And I think that's it atm, can't remember more from the top of my head and I think this is plenty for now anyways, I wrote down a lot more than I expected to have! Hopefully this can give a bit more inside into my darling Sidestep, since I'm an artist, I might even draw them depending on if I can stick with what I'm drawing and not just put it on the shelf for later, yknow yknow gjjfj.

Again, thank you for the interest in my gal! If you have anymore questions about her that are more specific and not answered here, just lmk! I don't mind talking about it and aswering, I rather enjoy doing so :]

#Asks #fallen hero #fallen hero retribution #fallen hero rebirth #sidestep #Oc Tiaxy

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wolfprincesszola · 1 year ago

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The Fate of the Marked Six Chapter 4

I need to start queueing these posts because I keep forgetting until it's late~. I hope you guys enjoy and if you do, please reblog this because it helps a lot more than a like would! <3 ——————– Summary: Virgil moves into a new town and meets Roman, a ghost that he promises to help in finding the unfinished business needed to pass over. However, Roman's past seemed to be deeply muddled with trouble, an uncurable disease that has started to affect a classmate, and a certain tight-lipped valedictorian. Friendships are made and Virgil finds himself thrown into a situation far more complicated and twisted than he signed up. Hopefully, with the help of his new five friends, he can find a way to bring peace to the town once and for all.

Trigger Warnings: None

Content Warnings: Slight swearing, intrusive thoughts

<Previous> <Next> ——————–

Chapter 04

The problem with Virgil moving to another city was that he had to be the new kid. He hated being the new kid. It meant having to reintroduce himself to every single person that came to talk to him, and having people stare at him in the hallways, the attention was going to be on him for a while, and more.

That was why he put off going to school for the first week, saying he needed more time to adjust to living in their new home and that he would go in afterwards.

It was the day before his supposed start day for school as he was looking through his closet. He heard a voice, “Knock knock knock.”

“Come in.” Virgil pulled his headphones down, turning around to see Roman phase through the wall. Unamused, he put his headphones back on, “You’re here to bug me earlier than usual.”

“Oh come on, Count Woe-laf, the least you could do is listen to me when I come up. I got bored of eavesdropping on your dad's conversations with the neighbor's dad.”

Virgil rolled his eyes as he took off his headphones that weren't playing anything. Having them hung around his neck, he focused his attention on talking to Roman. As much as he hated to admit, Roman was a really good conversationist and often played to his banter. He wasn't a bad person and wasn't a bad friend, but Virgil knew that even if he had promised to help Roman, it didn't mean that he wasn't fully annoyed at Roman bugging him every day.

“Really? That usually keeps you entertained for two more hours.” Virgil finally responded to Roman's comment about being bored.

“Yeah, well they were talking about cars, and you know how I feel about cars.”

Virgil’s lips turned up in a small smile as he remembered about Roman's unfortunate accident, “Do I really? Please…enlighten me.”

Roman scowled, “I didn’t come here to get bullied by you. I just heard that your neighbor goes to the high school you go to. Apparently, he’s the same age as you too.”

“Uh huh…and?”

“Oh come on, I know you’re feeling nervous about this whole new kid thing, but trust me. It’s not that bad. If I remember anything about high school, there’s going to be someone who will go up to you and become friends with you, even if you don’t want to become friends with them.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t even know the town’s view on magic users, or how many there are in this town.” Virgil wasn't even sure if he wanted Roman to be right. As much as it was nice to have someone to talk to as a friend, making friends by itself flagged his anxiety. It seemed like so much work, time, and socialization: three things that Virgil hated the most.

Roman pursed his lips, trying to remember about the town.

“Do you even know what town this is?” Virgil asked, watching Roman try to think of what to say.

“No.” Roman snorted, “Of course I don’t. Do you?”

“Gainsville. This has to be where you died, so why don’t you remember it?”

“What do you mean? I died in my hometown.” Roman snorted.

“What’s your hometown?”

There was a pause as Roman thought about it before his face melded in horror, “I don’t know.”

“How do you not know your hometown?” Virgil sputtered.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I lived in my hometown for my entire life, and I had a family-”

“Specifics about your family, like their names. Did you have any siblings? Grandparents that lived with you?” Chills ran down Virgil's spine. If Roman didn't remember anything about his past, that could mean something really bad happened during his life or that something more sinister was at play.

“...I don’t know.” Roman’s voice cracked as he started to realize that he didn’t know anything. “I know I had a mother and a father. I don’t know their names. I feel like I had a sibling, but I can’t remember who they were or what they looked like. Is that bad?”

Yes. It was very bad. Still, seeing Roman's distressed face put Virgil at unease. As much as he wanted to tell Roman the truth, he knew that the new ghost would probably be more terrified over something new he learned. From the looks of it, Roman still hadn't really gotten the whole 'being a ghost' thing down to a T, so Virgil decided he would tell Roman once the ghost was more comfortable.

“Well…I’ve certainly never run into a ghost that’s forgotten their past, and it’ll make things a little bit harder.” Virgil sighed, hoping that Roman couldn't hear the lie through his teeth.

Luckily, Roman didn't as he asked Virgil for more information. “Things as in…?”

“Finding what your unfinished business is.”

“Oh…” Roman seemed to slump down, clearly upset about it before he shook out of his mood, “Well, nevermind that. I came here to talk to you about going to school since you’re still a bit unsure about the whole socializing thing. I think you’re being a bit too hard on yourself. Just breathe and believe that someone will come up to be friends with you.”

“I don’t know…” Virgil murmured.

“Do you want me to join you? I can just float around and keep you company during your classes.” Roman offered.

That would be amusing, but Virgil knew that if Roman was beside him, it would probably make the principal lock Virgil away into the asylum. Virgil had a tendency to forget that ghosts were not something everyone could see, so it would be even worse in school. Again, he also wasn't sure about the amount of magic users and how they treated magic overall in the town.

“No, thank you.” Virgil exhaled a small laugh, “There could be mediums at the school and I don’t want them to judge me right away.”

Roman pouted, “But what am I going to do all day if you’re not here to keep my company?”

“My parents are home for half the day, and the other half, there are things such as the internet.” Virgil remarked, “It’s not your fault you haven’t learned how to interact with items yet.”

“I can interact with items?” Roman gaped, going to Virgil’s desk to try and pick up a pencil.

Virgil snorted as he watched Roman struggle to even make contact with the pen, the pen just phasing through his hand. “I wish I could help, but it looks like you’ve got the whole learning thing covered. See? You have something to do while I’m still at school.”

“Will you be okay there?” Roman asked, turning towards the boy and genuinely asking him.

“I will. Will you be okay here?”

“By the end of tomorrow, I will have figured out how to pick up a pen.” Roman gave a loopy smile to his friend.

“I doubt that, but I wish you luck.” Virgil saluted Roman.

-+=~=+-

When Virgil was dropped off at his school, he couldn’t help but agree with his mother about how fancy his new school was. Although it wasn’t private, the sheer size of the buildings and the way people presented themselves made it seem like they were.

Rushing into the school, it was clear the school had a system that Virgil wasn’t aware of because he almost got run over by a group of teenage boys racing through the halls. The only thing that stopped him was a pair of arms that pulled him out of the way.

Virgil turned around as he heard a boy's voice chirp in, "Woah! Careful there!"

The boy had a light-blue polo shirt with a grey cardigan that hung around his shoulders and a backpack hung from his right shoulder. He was smiling as he adjusted the black glasses on his face and stared at Virgil in front of him. "You okay there, kiddo?"

Virgil just nodded at the boy who was the same age as him. Instead of pointing out how the boy talked as if he was a middle-aged dad, Virgil just whispered out a "thank you".

“Don’t sweat it.” The boy shrugged, “You must be new here.”

“Yeah. That obvious?” Virgil pulled the sleeves from his jackets up, playing with the fringes as he desperately wanted the conversation to end. It wasn't the boy's fault. He seemed nice enough, but Virgil wasn't much of a conversationist. It was times like these where Virgil wondered about how Roman would fare in these scenarios and if he would hit it off better than Virgil was currently doing.

“Unfortunately.” He offered his hand out for a handshake, “The name’s Patton.”

“Virgil.” Virgil shook his hand before the two heard a bell sound off. The hallways seemed to almost be cleared, a few kids lingering. “Shouldn’t you be getting to class?”

“Two minute bell. I can spare those two minutes. Is there anywhere you need me to help you find?” Patton asked, kindness flowing through his words. He had nothing but the best intentions, Virgil could tell.

“If you really have time, the front office would be nice.” Virgil was relieved that someone had offered to help his because he was almost about to stumble through the hallways until he was able to find them. He would sacrifice some socialization if it meant that he didn't have to have a mental breakdown trying to find any of his classes or the front office.

“It’s right over there.” Patton pointed to the door right across from where they were looking.

Before Virgil could say anything, the two heard someone coming down the hall, and a teenage boy threatened Patton, “Morris, class?”

“Right, I’ve got to go. I hope you know where to go?” Patton smiled at Virgil. It looked almost as if his smile could be contagious from how happy he always seemed.

"Yeah, thanks." Virgil shrugged, watching Patton run to class before turning his attention to the boy who had threatened Patton.

The boy seemed to be even more formal than Patton with a black button-up, a tie, slicked hair, and black glasses that matched Patton's. He got to the point, staring at Virgil, "You must be Virgil Gray, the new kid. My name is Logan Sanders and I am the valedictorian of our class. I can show you the way around campus."

Logan's speech was all formal and apathetic too. Virgil wondered if the boy ever felt anything since the roboticism and formality seemed to take over Logan's entire personality.

“Don’t you have class?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. He doubted that Logan needed the classes anyways, being the valedictorian and all, but considering the boy had just scolded Patton for being late to class, it was making Virgil wonder.

"The principal asked me to show you around, so I was excused." Logan cleared his throat, "Let’s get you your schedule first and then I can give you the tour.”

Virgil nodded in agreement, following close behind Logan who had started to walk ahead towards where Patton had motioned for the front office. When they walked in, there was a desk where a lady sat, who Virgil could only assume was the secretary. Although she had no nametag, she was nice to him, helping Virgil with the classes right away.

“Alright, you’re all set. I’m guessing our lovely valedictorian is going to show you around.”

“You guessed correctly.” Logan replied, grabbing a binder on the side of the secretary’s desk, “I’ll return this on the tour.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet, honey. Thank you.” The secretary gave a small smile towards Logan.

"It's no problem, Ms. Inug." Logan nodded, forcing a smile on his face that looked almost unnatural. Virgil wanted to pour water onto Logan to see if he'd short-circuit, but wasn't brave enough to do so. They walked out soon after that, walking out back towards the hallway they first met.

Logan turned towards Virgil after stopping in the middle, “Most new kids don’t want the school tour. I’m asking you if you want it, or if you want to go to class right now.”

“What happens if I take the tour?”

“You skip your first period, I take you to your second, and you continue your day from then.”

“Do I need to know anything first?” Virgil asked, looking at his schedule. Math. In the start of the day. He hated math.

“You have Mr. Davidson. As much as I'd like to pride our school in having excellent teachers, Mr. Davidson doesn't seem to enjoy teaching and often relies on ineffective and outdated ways to teach a class."

So Virgil wasn't going to learn anything in math, if Virgil had interpreted Logan's words correctly. That was good, at least. He hated math.

“I’ll take the tour.”

"Then follow me." Logan replied as he walked around, giving short commentary on where they were, as well as a bit of background. The more into the school they got, the more clear it was that Logan knew the school like the back of his hand. He talked about rumors and legends that happened in the cafeteria, as well as the more prominent people in their grade.

Once their tour was done and Logan had made a quick stop to drop off the binder at the correct classroom, the two sat in the empty cafeteria, waiting for the bell to ring for Virgil to go to his second period. Virgil, noticing how quiet Logan liked to be, decided to break the ice.

“Who should I look out for?”

“In terms of what?”

“In terms of I shouldn’t piss them off or even bother talking to them.”

Logan looked up, thinking about it for a while, “Remus Porter is the king of the school. You piss him off, you have no more social life. Janus Wright is his best friend. You piss Janus off, you piss Remus off. Remus is really easy to be friends with, although most people don't stick around to listen to him talk. Just don’t piss off Janus.”

“Yikes. Is Janus a hard person to please?”

“No. If you’re quiet, he'll be okay with you. He doesn’t like loud people.”

“Okay.” Virgil took note of all that, “What about you? As a valedictorian, I’d assume you have a lot of influence.”

“I don’t let people get the better of me.” Logan murmured as he looked at the time on the watch. “The period is ending in a few minutes, so let’s start walking to avoid the crowd.”

Virgil stood up, following Logan, “Thanks for taking me around.”

“Of course.” Logan shrugged, as if it was known he would do anything anyone asked, “It’s just what I do.”

“What? Help people?”

“Yes.”

“Now, kiddo, you know lying's wrong.” A new voice remarked.

The two turned to see Patton walking behind them, raising an eyebrow at Logan.

“Shouldn’t you be in class, Morris?” Logan challenged, crossing his arms. Virgil noticed how quick Logan was to avoid the question.

“Bathroom pass.” Patton showed the pass wrapped around his arm, “Can’t bust me yet, Sanders. I just wanted to see how our new duckling was doing.”

Virgil became hypersensitive at the mention of Roman’s last name, unsure of why that was Logan’s nickname.

“Don’t call him that.” Logan scowled, “Go back to your class.”

“Oh you know you love me.” Patton grinned, “You can join us at lunch, Virgil, if you want.”

“I’m not included in this ‘us’.” Logan scoffed. “I’ll be seeing you in detention today. Don’t forget it.”

“Got it. See you two later.” Patton remarked as he walked away, going back to his class.

“You don’t seem too fond of him.” Virgil remarked.

“Patton Morris’s a class clown. To me, it means I have to clean up all of his messes. As long as I’ve known him, I don’t think there’s any way for the two of us to get along, especially when we’re such jarring opposites.”

“He seems nice though.”

“No comment.” Logan replied as he stopped at a classroom, “I’ll see you later in fourth. Are there any questions before I go?”

Virgil thought about it, the back of his head nagging to ask about if Logan’s surname was Sanders. However, he just shook his head, deciding against treading somewhere where he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to know.

-+=~=+-

Virgil walked into his English class, expecting his teacher to be chill when it was the exact opposite. Walking in, he was greeted by a chirpy “Hello”. Virgil gave a small awkward smile before his English teacher stared at his before gasping, “You must be Virgil, the new kid.”

Virgil winced at how loud his teacher was, “Yeah…”

“Oh gosh, I saw you on the roster, but I couldn’t believe it. It’s free seating everywhere, but I want you to-”

“Miss Loanes, leave the new kid alone.” A guy walking into the class snorted, “I love your enthusiasm, but half the class could not and would not care if they walked up and spent the entire class period talking about themselves.”

His English teacher paused before sighing, “You’re right, Remus.”

“New kid, sit with me.” Remus flashed a smile, offering the seat across from him. There was already a quiet guy sitting there with a face mask covering the bottom half of his face. From what Virgil could see, the guy had a scar on the left side of his face that he was trying to hide with spots of makeup and the face mask.

“What’s your name?” Remus grinned at Virgil expectantly.

“Virgil. You’re Remus, right?”

“I am him.” Remus confirmed, motioning to the boy he sat next to, ‘This is Janus, my best friend.”

Virgil remembered vaguely about what Logan said to not piss them off, “I’ve heard that you two are an undefeatable pair of best friends.”

“Untrue. He’s just a loud asshole who won’t stop talking to me.” Janus finally spoke, crossing his arms, “And he’s powerless too. I mean…pick a struggle, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Okay, like you’re any different. You’re powerless too.”

Virgil watched Janus’s eyes flicker to Remus’s forehead as if he was staring at a mark, and Virgil looked there, expecting there to be a sharpie mark or something. There was nothing. It was clear Janus wasn't letting onto his powers. Whatever his power was, it was the most clear on Remus.

“Do you have powers?” Janus asked, “If I may ask.”

“Uh…” Virgil dragged out, wondering if he should lie or not. However, by the way that they seemed genuinely interested and not like they were going to capitalize on powers, he decided to be truthful. “I’m a medium. I can see ghosts.”

“Wait, really?” Remus’s face melded into interest, “How does that work? Can you hear them? Can you touch them? Can you-”

Janus cut Remus off before the boy could say anything more, "Let's not freak out the new kid just yet, Remus."

"You're no fun, Jan." Remus pouted, but still left the sentence unfinished.

Although confused, Virgil just moved on, hoping that Remus wasn't going to ask what Virgil thought Remus was going to ask. "Well, when ghosts die, there are some who have unfinished business. Those ghosts reside in between the spiritual world and the real world, and so they are in our world, but no one but mediums can see them. There are some mediums that can reach into the spirit world and talk to those ghosts, but I’m only the type of medium who can see ghosts with unfinished business. They can only move onto the next world once they finish their business.”

“How do they know their unfinished business?”

“They don’t. Most ghosts spend thousands of years trying to figure out what it is. Sometimes it’s getting their name in headlights, and sometimes it’s making things up with family members. I try to help as many ghosts as I run across to return to the spiritual world.”

"Ooh, has any of the ghosts' wishes ever been to watch someone shove a butt-"

"Remus Porter." Janus glared at his best friend, "What did I say about not freaking out your newfound friend?"

Although Janus had interrupted Remus before the boy could finish, Virgil could guess what Remus wanted to ask and he now understood why Logan said most people don't stick around long enough for Remus to talk.

"Hey, Jan, unlike you, I don't hide anything." Remus grinned.

"Clearly." Virgil grumbled as he desperately tried to erase any of the thoughts implanted into his head from Remus.

"You seem cool.” Janus remarked, “If you want to, there’s a place for you to sit with us at lunch.”

“Thanks." Virgil nodded. Although it seemed that the pair were weird, they seemed to be more together than most of the people at the school. They knew who they were and weren't ashamed of their place in high school. Virgil knew that they would probably be Virgil's go-to people to sit. "Patton also told me that. Apparently he likes to sit with Logan?”

Remus giggled. “No way. Valedictorian Logan Sanders?”

“Yeah, why? Is it that unbelievable?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. He had seen how much Logan was exasperated around Patton, but Patton didn't seem to have any ill intent or ill feelings towards Logan.

"Patton's been Logan's enemy since he first entered this building day 1. Logan was asked to show Patton around, since he was the principal’s son. He showed up to lunch doused in ketchup because Patton thought it would be funny to dump it on him after Logan mentioned loving tomatoes. It was meant to be a lighthearted prank and had it been anyone else in the school, it would've been fine. However, something snapped in Logan and he stopped telling people anything about himself after that. In fact, he stopped being friends with people after that." Janus remarked.

“Why?”

“Don’t know. All I know is that I don’t need to piss off the principal’s son anytime soon because he has power, both as a stepping stone to getting expelled, and a stepping stone towards getting hundreds of detention hours.”

“Got it, so don’t mess with Logan.”

“Don’t mess with the Sanders. I’ve heard his brother is pretty nasty too. Don’t know anything about him though because Logan never talks about his life.”

“Interesting.” Virgil noted the fact that Logan’s last name was also Sanders. However, once Virgil realized that Logan looked nothing like Roman, all of his logic was figuratively thrown out the window.

Before anyone could say anything more, the bell had rung and the three had to be quiet as they listened to the lecture.

-+=~=+-

The cafeteria was chaotic during lunch. Virgil had packed lunch, just in case he didn’t like the menu, as he was very stubborn in food. However, it was the direct opposite why he was glad he packed lunch. The options seemed so amazingly good, but they were all gone by the time he walked into the cafeteria.

Walking into the cafeteria, he glanced around aimlessly until he heard a voice.

“Virgil!”

He looked to where the voice was calling his to see Remus waving and smiling. Janus seemed to be staring, almost embarrassed and trying to get Remus to stop. They were both sitting at the table in the middle, with no one around them but everyone was still staring at them. Remus was currently eating his plate while Janus was playing a game on his phone.

Virgil just walked over, going over to sit with them.

“You bring lunch?” Remus asked, “What did you bring?”

“Pasta.” Virgil shrugged, “But the food options look amazing.”

“Here.” Janus pushed his plate towards Virgil, “I don’t like any of it. Remus always makes me get an extra plate because he’s hoping one day I’ll eat at school. He always eats my plate at the end of the day, but I’m afraid that he pretends like he’s not too full by the end of it. Spare the both of us.”

Virgil gave a small smile, grabbing it, “Thank you, Janus.”

Janus shrugged, going back to his game, “Let me know if you have any allergies next time. I can get lunch for you.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’ll see if I can arrive early to grab it-”

“No, that’s not how this lunch thing works. It always gets sold out before the bell even rings. Trust me, we have a system to even get it. Let my little pogchamp get it for you.” Remus remarked, ruffling Janus' hair

“You call me that again and I’ll break your dick in half like a glowstick.” Janus threatened as he didn’t bother to even look up, continuing with playing the game on his phone.

“Alright, thanks, Janus.”

"Do you have room for another two?" A familiar voice came through.

The three looked up to see Patton grinning, holding Logan's collar behind him. Logan had his arms crossed as he was holding a clipboard and pencil.

“Sure.” Remus shrugged, making room for the two of them on the side Janus and him were on. Patton took the offer, but Logan went to sit next to Virgil, taking out a worksheet.

“Our one and only valedictorian. So studious.” Patton remarked with a genuine awe laced. It was clear to Virgil that Patton looked up to Logan a lot, even if it may not have been requited.

“He dragged me out of my club meeting.” Logan seemed annoyed, “Said they could run it without the president.”

“You have no trust in your board members.” Patton argued.

“I have all the trust in them! I have zero trust in you.” Logan glared as he worked on his math.

“Cookie?” Virgil offered the pissed off boy the chocolate chip cookie, which Logan gladly took.

“Thank you, Virgil.” He grumbled, going back to working on his homework.

“How's your first day been?” Patton asked, changing the subject.

“Good. Chaotic, but good. I made a couple new friends today.” Virgil nodded.

Patton flashed a smile, “I hope it’s the five of us here today.”

“Yeah.” Virgil cleared his throat, trying to hide his flush.

“Stop doing your homework for one second, Sanders, and pay attention to the conversation.” Patton swiped away Logan’s homework, leaving Logan to death-glare him. Patton's tone reminded Virgil of almost like a disappointed dad.

“I thought you said you don’t let people get the better of you.” Virgil remarked.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking of Patton Morris when I said it.” Logan rolled his eyes, pulling out a yellow slip of paper, writing Patton’s name on it and giving it to him. “Virgil, have you seen the rest of the city, or met anyone else around these parts?”

“No, why?”

“Well, it is a small city. You are bound to know people.” Logan shrugged, “I was just wondering because if not, you should check out the museum downtown. They finally added a few new sections.”

“What? Really? Why didn’t we hear about it?” Patton perked up, “I love the downtown museum. We should all go there and check it out one day.”

"I don't know, Patton." Janus raised an eyebrow, "We're all not that great of friends."

"This is a great way to make us friends! We would get to know each other.”

"Ooo, in that case, count me in." Remus grinned, wiggling his shoulders in interest, "We could list all the different ways you could kill someone in alphabetical order while we're there."

Patton's eyes widened at the thought of that and Janus sighed as he tried to de-escalate Patton's reaction, "To spare everyone's sanity, Remus and I will not be doing that."

“That sounds like anxiety and socialization I’m not prepared for. I’ll pass.” Virgil replied.

“Count me out.” Logan made a face, “I don’t get close to people.”

“Wow, what an ass-.” Patton snorted as he saw Logan standing up, clearly going to take care of responsibilities elsewhere. "-sset."

Virgil didn't know that Patton made jokes, let alone jokes like that. He had to hide a smile begging to break through. It was clear the rest of the group was doing the same.

“Like I can’t say the same about you.” Logan remarked back, fixing his glasses before walking away.

“I think it’d still be nice if we planned it.” Patton offered, “Besides, I don’t have many close friends. It’s kinda sad how Logan’s so close to me that he’s my best friend, but he won't even talk to me. Maybe if I get to know you guys, I’ll have better friends.”

“You keep pissing off Logan. It’s not our fault that he hates you.” Janus snorted, “If I had someone who did everything he could to stop me from doing stuff I wanted to do, I’d probably be pissed off too.”

“Hey, you do have that!” Patton motioned to Remus.

“Hey! You’re right! Why didn't you mention me?” Remus pouted.

"Sorry." Janus rolled his eyes, "The difference is that Remus and I have come to an understanding. You create messes for Logan that he has to clean up."

Patton slumped down, thinking about it, "Oh man...do I?"

“I don’t think the problem is that you keep annoying him, but I just think that you guys don’t work together because you guys are so different. He's quiet, you’re loud. Everyone loves you, everyone hates him. He's the valedictorian so he’s super serious all the time, and you’re the class clown who I've heard makes a lot of puns. Of course you guys are going to always go head in head.” Virgil offered.

“He's smart. I’m officially adopting his as mine.” Janus replied, putting his phone down to make eye contact with Virgil.

Seconds later, his eyes shifted to Virgil’s forehead, where Virgil touched, worried that something landed there.

“Ah, sorry, I thought I saw something. It was nothing.” Janus murmured as he looked away.

“I’m down to go!” Remus grinned, “Janus, I don’t care what you say, but you’re coming too.”

“Great.” Janus’s voice was deadpan.

“I’ll find a way to get Logan to come.” Patton grinned, “Leave it to me and the six remaining hours he has to spend with me in detention.”

“Why is he spending detention with you? I thought he was the valedictorian.” Virgil raised an eyebrow.

“Being the principal’s son means he gets a lot of responsibility that teachers aren’t willing to put in themselves. It saves on money, and Logan can write it off as responsibilities of being valedictorian.” Patton explained.

“That leads to a higher standard for the next valedictorian. The teachers will have to go back once Logan graduates.” Virgil frowned.

“Yeah, well, it’s rough for the Sanders. Apparently it was the same with his brother.” Janus murmured, “There’s always been a rumor that’s spread around that there’s a reason his brother isn’t seen around the city anymore, the reason being that he was sick of everything.”

“Is this just known information? Should we be talking about it?” Virgil didn't feel comfortable in this situation. He felt as if he shouldn't be talking about it.

“Logan knows about everything. There’s no doubt he also knows the rumors that surround his family.” Remus remarked.

“Does anyone know his brother’s name?” Virgil asked.

Everyone shrugged, “No one talks about him. Not even the Sanders family. It’s almost as if he disappeared from existence for them.”

“Really?”

“Actually, I used to be really good friends with Logan.” Janus shrugged, “He was really open all the time, and happy. he was loud and he felt like himself. He was still a nerd, but he was happy and proud about it. Then…around middle school, something happened and he stopped doing everything he used to do. He stopped being loud and himself, and instead became closed off. He stopped talking to people outside of schoolwork. He started working harder on stuff, and didn’t go anywhere if it wasn’t to study. He just became a recluse after middle school.”

“You think it has anything to do with his brother?” Patton asked.

A throat cleared caught everyone's attention. The four turned around to see Logan standing, unamused, "You should know…it’s not very nice to talk about rumors behind someone’s back.”

Speechless, the four could only stare at Logan as if he had caught them in an intricate web of lies. Guilt crawled up Virgil's spine, knowing that he should've stopped everyone from talking about it. However, Logan seemed to be the most embarrassed out of all of them as he walked up to Patton.

"Apologies. I had forgotten about my Calculus homework that Patton had grabbed out of my hand." Logan murmured as he held his hand out for Patton. Patton was quick to give Logan his things and he started to walk away.

No one said anything as they watched Logan walk away. At least until Logan broke the silence once more upon halting in his tracks and turning back to them. His cheeks were flushed and it was the first time Virgil ever saw any real emotion on Logan's face. He seemed upset almost.

"I don't care if you do speculate on my life, or about my family. Just...please, whatever you say, leave my brother out of it."

Logan turned on his heel and walked out of the classroom before he could even get confirmation from the others. Once he was gone though, Patton's expressions flooded with sadness and guilt. "Logan's never sounded so desperate. He always has a polite or authoritative tone."

"Right...well, you heard the boy. No more talking about his brother." Janus exhaled a sharp breath as he stood up, "Come on, Re. Let's get to our own math class before you start speaking about more gore."

“Coming!” Remus packed up as fast as possible, bounding towards the boy who had already started walking.

“Which way are you going?” Patton grinned, turning his full attention to Virgil. “I’ll walk you there.”

Virgil uncrumpled the paper he had shoved into his pocket to look at the last class of the schedule, "Art."

“We should go before the crowd picks up when the bell rings.”

The two walked in silence the entire way to the class, until Virgil broke the silence, “Hey Patton?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think Logan has a power that makes him scared of getting close to people? Maybe that’s why he stopped talking to Janus.”

“Hm, maybe.” Patton smiled, “I’ll ask today, but I doubt it. I think he has magic. I just…don’t think he uses his power ever.”

“Really?”

“Trust me. I can feel it when people have powers.”

“Do you really know?”

“Yes, I do, Mr. Boy With Powers.” Patton remarked as he walked away, right as Virgil stopped by his classroom. ————– Patton may not make as many puns in this fic since it's so hard for me to make puns, forgive meeeee T-T, but ooooo, I love characterization and learning about backstories. Also 5/6 of the gang are together now and we get more insight into the dynamics of everyone~

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! Reblogging helps me a lot and are very appreciated. Check out my masterlist for more, feel free to request any writings, and stick around if you want to see the rest of what I have in store for this! :)

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