#how can you expect to feel sane when every part of you has exploded into a stellar marvel before you even got here

[thedepressexpress]

I want to talk about how "we are stardust" has become a cliche and I hate that it's become a cliche

to say that we are stardust isn't a romanticized version of the truth. it is the truth.

a science lesson for anyone who's interested (stick with me here):

when the universe was born, everything was really hot, so hot that it couldn't combine into atoms, and when it cooled down enough stuff like helium and hydrogen (and some other elements in small quantities) were made. there was nothing else.

because of stuff like density and gravity, that gas collapsed into stars. and most of those stars became red dwarf stars which have trapped all that material inside them, burning so slowly that none of them have ever released that stuff back out because they live for trillions of years.

of the stars that didn't become red dwarfs some stars started burning, changing hydrogen to helium then carbon and nitrogen and then they die, exploding into these beautiful noisy planetary nebulae. those explosion are where the material for the carbon and nitrogen in your body come from. that's what we mean when we say we're made of stardust. you are a living tomb for the corpse of a million stars, separated from them by space and time.

only a few stars get really big and burn a lot more and make iron. the iron in apples that makes them turn brown and your blood that makes it possible for you to live and breathe. those stars didn't just slowly build up to that moment over time like the stars that made your carbon and nitrogen. they took a few seconds to make a supernova that blew all the atoms that are currently in your body into space and eventually they found themselves in you, making you everything that you are. those explosion are so powerful that if a lot of them happen in a small enough space they can break galaxy disks and leak into their halos.

and these explosions, they are so incredible and loud and the universe is screaming to make the stuff that you are made of.

you aren't just made of stars, you are the result of billions of years of life and death on such a cosmic scale that we may never experience it, not in this lifetime or the next or the one after that.

in physics, sometimes we simplify interactions and say that matter knows. that matter knows the most stable configurations to be in and it knows how to decay to become stable if it isn't and it knows how to feel gravity.

in that sense, stars know when they're dying but they don't know what they'll become. if they'll get lost in gas that never becomes anything else or if they'll become the heart of a whole new star or if they'll become part of rocks or life or your shoelaces.

idk i just feel like there's more to it than just being stardust. there's billions of lifetimes that go into who you are and that's not to add pressure on you to be something extraordinary in this life. it's just what this is like, exploding and living and dying and always becoming something else so you aren't just from stars and part of this cosmic history either, we're part of the cycle so it makes sense that we explode and live and die and keep becoming someone else.

ok byeeee

[crystalelemental]

Fire Emblem Engage!  I am...very pleasantly surprised by this one.  Initial thoughts through Chapter 6 below.

As expressed by many, the story isn’t like...a huge deal.  It’s very much back to basics, in a way that’s like...if you were looking for Three Houses style again, it’s a downgrade, but if you’re familiar with the series has been, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.

That said, I think they’re building up to Lumiere wasn’t your real mother, you’re the child of the Fell Dragon instead.  She refers to becoming your mother, not being your mother.  One of the antagonists mentioned that she never had a child.  There’s just a lot pointing to “She’s not your real mom.”

Characters have been...better than expected?  Nothing exceptional but I like them well enough.  Framme’s my girl, I really like Celine and Chloe, Yunaka’s fairly interesting.  I wound up liking Louis pretty well, and Alfred isn’t what I expected but I like the guy.  What I think surprises me most is...I kinda like Alear?  They’re not too bad.  Like, their dialogue has gotten a good chuckle out of me a couple times, and their decisions are, for the most part, pretty sane.  Like okay yeah, why are we stopping to fight, let’s just run the fuck away.  Sane move.

Gameplay has been fun.  The engage rings are...kinda bonkers.  Alear and Marth are basically untouchable with all the avoid stacking, and you get a ton of attacks in.  It’s kinda nuts.  I gave the Sigurd ring to Chloe, who is...a metric ton of fun with it.  She’s kind of nuts, having such wild movement range and no terrain considerations, and Canter, and the ability to charge through enemies.  Then there’s Celine and Celica.  Oooooh my god.  Whoever thought Warp Ragnarok was a good idea?  I hope you live a long, prosperous life, because that shit rules.  Warp up to 10 spaces to be near an enemy and cast Explode Kill Die on them.  It’s one-shot like every boss.  I love her.  I haven’t gotten to use Micaiah beyond the initial run with Yunaka, but getting a second staff user and light magic out of the deal is pretty great.  But I’m also like...but Framme though.  Better healing potential.  I dunno, will consider options.

The only thing that seriously frustrates me is the chain attacks.  I don’t understand them at all.  Boucheron seems to be the only one in my army who can do it, but in one chapter, Vander almost got destroyed by a Ridersbane chain attack.  Like it’s kinda nuts how hard that hit.  And I don’t really grasp why it happens.  It’s not my favorite.

What is kinda neat, though, is the way weapon triangle works.  I admit, I am generally a huge hater of Break systems.  But this one’s pretty solid.  You don’t get counterattacked, and you leave the opponent vulnerable to the next combat in this round.  It’s been a great method for helping Framme get some KOs.  And it doesn’t work on enemy phase, so it’s a neat tool to encourage more aggressive plays.

I’ve also noticed that enemies move mostly in packs.  When one is drawn out, usually a whole cluster is, probably to run the threat of chain attacks.  Moreover, the boss seems to move pretty often too.  That’s...pretty unique.  I’m really used to stationary bosses in this series, but quite a few have gotten up and chased.  Which is kinda nice.

The last thing is...man, not to dunk on Three Houses, but that game is like impossible for me to replay.  The academy sections are so long and drawn out and tedious, and I appreciate Engage having a much faster turnaround time to the next map.  There’s still your hub world that’s...fine.  Really, all it’s done for me thus far is get me really, REALLY pissed that they had better costuming decisions that whole time and just...opted not to use them.  You give me one fucking reason the Somniel outfits aren’t standard.  Ugh.  Anyway.  It’s not a bad hub world.  I haven’t felt like I needed to do too much, and it’s, again, a really quick intermission before the next map.  Which I appreciate.

But yeah, first impressions are...way more positive than I expected.  Legitimately, I expected this game to feel really bereft of charm or investment, and I’m pleasantly surprised at how much I’m enjoying it thus far.  There’s always a chance something goes south really fast, but for now, it’s pretty fun.

[helliontherapscallion]

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it. 

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends. 

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart. 

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years. 

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same. 

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin. 

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence. 

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony. 

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed. 

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living. 

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again. 

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it. 

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that. 

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again. 

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him. 

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears. 

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book. 

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails." 

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down. 

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed. 

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly. 

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here." 

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying." 

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred. 

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks. 

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury. 

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move. 

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting." 

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top. 

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks. 

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few. 

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so. 

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief. 

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading. 

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks. 

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive. 

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks. 

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?" 

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void. 

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this." 

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you." 

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace. 

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you. 

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing. 

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him." 

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen. 

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void. 

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying. 

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors. 

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible? 

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless. 

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air. 

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?" 

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?" 

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance. 

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me." 

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded. 

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just- 

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss. 

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto- 

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve. 

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition. 

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice. 

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years. 

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.” 

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.” 

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.” 

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur. 

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay. 

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost. 

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. 

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement. 

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!” 

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands. 

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.” 

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person. 

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right? 

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy. 

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes. 

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot. 

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust. 

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy. 

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin. 

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction. 

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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[annonymouslyblonde]

Where I Should Be

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Pairing: Percy x Annabeth

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: Set during Mark of Athena the night of the day they found Percy. What if the stable scene wasn't the first moment alone Percy and Annabeth had? While I love the stable scene, Annabeth just isn't patient enough to have waited that long to catch up with Percy. My take on an additional scene for MoA.

A/N: Everything follows canon for HOO other than the fact we don't have a consistent timeline on the amount of time Percy was missing. So bare with me. My headcannon is that for Percy, it was a few months (thanks to his Hera induced nap), but for Annabeth, he's been missing eight months now.

The slight creak of the door woke Percy. After four years of fighting monsters and Lupa's training, he had learned to sleep lightly. Before the door could close, Riptide was uncapped and at the intruder's throat.

A sharp gasp came shortly before the person hissed, "Percy, it's me!"

Annabeth. Of course, it was only Annabeth. Percy sheepishly lowered his sword. Nothing said "I've missed you the last eight months" like a sword to the throat. Then again, she had judo flipped him, hadn't she? Seemed fair enough.

"I thought you were a monster!" he whispered harshly in defense of his actions, but Annabeth leveled him with a signature glare.

"A monster quietly making it past Jason on guard and opening your bedroom door instead of exploding it?"

His cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Hearing it aloud especially from Annabeth did make it seem pretty ridiculous.

"I was half asleep, and stranger things have happened. Besides I wasn't exactly expecting anyone tonight."

Annabeth looked away from him distracted, half asleep herself. She was barefoot and clad in her favorite worn flannel pants and a camp half-blood sweatshirt of his that was definitely too big for her.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she admitted quietly. "I just- I shouldn't have come, it's stupid. Go back to bed, Percy." She started to turn for the door when he dropped his sword completely to reach for her.

"Hey, don't."

He turned her back to him. In the light of Riptide, tear tracts stood out on her cheeks, and her eyes were red, puffy, and glassy like she may cry again any second. He gently stroked her cheek.

"You've been crying," Percy noted. She wiped angrily at her eyes trying to remove the evidence.

"Nightmares again?" he asked gently. Percy was always gentle with her when nightmares plagued her. Being vulnerable didn't come easy to Annabeth, and he felt honored she would trust him enough to show her vulnerable side.

When she confirmed his suspicions with a nod, Percy collected her in his arms and felt her sigh with relief. He remembered how awful the nightmares had been before at camp and when she'd stay at the apartment, even taken a few elbows as she fought them when she fell asleep during their movie nights. And now? A shudder cut through him trying to imagine how awful they must have been when he vanished. For him, it had only been a few months, but Annabeth had been looking for him nearly a year now not knowing what she may find on the other end.

He pressed a long kiss to her hair and asked, "Which one this time?"

Percy was familiar with most of them by now. Her mother and father rejecting her, blankets turning into spiders, standing at his funeral shroud in hand with everyone telling her he was gone, him accepting the offer of immortality and leaving her alone. And now he had actually left her alone at camp for eight months. The thought made his stomach turn.

"Same one I've had the last few months," she mumbled into his chest. "Every worst-case scenario. You not remembering me, not wanting to leave Camp Jupiter. Or not finding you at Camp Jupiter at all, that you'd never been there and we were completely wrong. Or worse." He knew the "or worse". Her biggest fear used to be abandonment and rejection, but now it had become more than that. The worse was finding him already dead.

"When I woke up, I just- I didn't trust my own mind that we really had found you. That you were really here. I thought I'd finally snapped. Today was probably the best scenario I could have thought up, and you know how it is for half-bloods. Things never go right."

He tightened his hold and stroked her tangled curls, burying his face in her shoulder. "Today they did. Right enough at least. I'm here. I'm with you where I should be."

"I'm so sorry, Percy," she sobbed into his shirt. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. I failed you epically."

"No, you didn't." He gently extracted himself taking her face in his hands and made her look at him. "That was all Hera. You did everything you could. I know you did."

"I can't help but feel like that's my fault too. After all, it is Hera," she spat the name out with a much venom as gorgon's blood. Somehow her voice could do that. One side sweet and comforting, another as deadly as poison. "She had to take you. Part of me feels like she took you to get back at me."

Percy couldn't help the chuckle. "Oh, I've done my share of angering that psycho goddess."

The pair stood for a moment in an extended silence. It wasn't enough to alleviate her guilt and he knew it. So he continued.

"It had to be me I think. Any other half-blood getting to California and through the wolf House with no memories? Even if I didn't know about it, I had Achilles' curse protecting me until I got to camp Jupiter. It saved me more than a couple of times."

"Until? You mean-" Her voice trailed off as her fingers grazed the spot at his lower back that he'd confided in her was his only weak spot. His stomach flipped at the gentle touch of her fingers in a way that had nothing to do with the weak spot he previously had.

"I had to give it up to enter Camp Jupiter," he explained. The realization donned on her.

"So when I flipped you earlier-"

"Oh yeah felt every bit of that, thanks. Probably bruised my back along with my ego," he teased. A thunk sounded as she hit her head on the door.

"I'm an idiot," she groaned. "Of course you couldn't carry a Grecian curse into a Roman camp. I'm sorry, Percy. I never meant to hurt you." Her hands skimmed his back hoping she hadn't hurt him too badly.

"I know you didn't, babe." Her heart flipped at the affectionate term. He didn't use that one often, usually when they were alone, but it did strange things to her whenever he did call her babe. It still felt surreal occasionally that they were together in that way. The days of them arguing on the way to LA didn't seem so far in the past.

"You were angry and scared and had every right to be after I disappeared like that. Besides you've done more damage in sparing practice. I'm fine."

She didn't say anything, choosing instead to wrap her arms around him again assuring herself he was really there. Soon, he felt her breathing even out against his neck, and she slumped heavily into him starting to fall asleep again. When he shuffled them towards the bed, she stirred making the task more difficult.

"Come on," he whispered into her nest of golden curls, loving the way she burrowed into his arms. "Lay down with me."

"Can't," she mumbled sleepily. "I shouldn't even be here. I need to go before we get caught."

"I think we've earned this for one night at least. It's been too long since I could hold you." His arms tightened around her, adding to his point. "I'll even set an alarm so you can sneak back before anyone is up. Better yet, where's your hat?"

"Stopped working," she spat out bitterly. "Only gift mom ever gave me, and apparently she kept the receipts. I don't wanna talk about it."

That concerned him. If Athena was taking things from Annabeth, what did that mean for the rest of them with their parents? Percy made them promise to be better with their kids, and here they were a few months later going back on their promises. Typical.

"You and your mom aren't talking again?"

"No one is talking. Olympus has gone silent except for Hera apparently." Bitterness crept back into her voice as the hurt and worry of the last several months tightened in her chest again. Before her mind could go too dark, the ship pitched suddenly sending them tumbling into his bed and Percy into a fit of laughter.

"See even the ship is telling you to stay."

She snorted and settled against him as he pulled a blanket around them. If the Fates seemed to be telling her to stay, then who was she to argue. Curled into his side, she took a deep, comforting breath of the salty air that seemed to follow him. The smell of the ocean, the smell of him, always calmed her now. Automatically, Percy ran his fingers through her hair. Well as much as he could considering it was a knotted mess.

"Speaking of moms though, your mom and Paul are doing well. They've been worried about you, but they're good."

"You went to see them?"

Distractedly, she drew Greek letters across his chest needing to keep her hands busy. Curse half-blood ADHD. It was always worse when she didn't sleep well, but Percy didn't mind. The light touch of her fingers dancing across his chest focused him. All he could think of was her. The smell of her shampoo. Her warm breath as she spoke to him. The feel of her securely wrapped in his arms. He never wanted to forget this again.

"I wanted to keep them informed and see if they heard from you," she answered having finally ordered her thoughts enough. "I've been going at least once a week when I'm at camp. Your mom's kept me sane the last eight months."

"She's pretty great like that. I tried to call her. I don't know if it helped or made things worse. I didn't really explain too well."

"It helped," she assured him with a squeeze. "She managed to forward it to me, and we must have spent an hour on the phone together listening to it. It was good just to hear your voice. And speaking of, you should call her in the morning. The camouflage on the ship will make it safe for a phone call."

"She's going to kill me when I get home," he groaned. Annabeth laughed into his chest. It was the best feeling in the world to hear that laugh again.

"Probably so, then she's going to hug you for a month straight. She wanted me to tell you she loves you and misses you. She never doubted I'd find you."

When Annabeth first came to tell Mr. and Mrs. Jackson-Blofis about Percy's disappearance, she made sure Sally knew she would do whatever it took to bring him home. The older woman merely nodded and smiled at the younger girl.

"Of course you will, dear. I have every faith in you." And she hugged her. Sally never once doubted Annabeth's ability. And later as Annabeth worried over the quest from her mom, it was Sally that held her hand reassuringly and told her everything would be alright. In the past eight months, Sally Jackson had become a rock to Annabeth, and she would never be able to thank the woman enough for that. The woman never doubted that she'd find the most important thing in both their lives.

"And she shouldn't have." Percy interrupted her thoughts, answering both her words and internal musings. "Because you are amazing."

Looking down at the girl curled against him, Percy couldn't help but finally feel at home. Emotions overwhelmed him fighting for dominance. Pride in her. Anger for being snatched away. Fear that it would happen again. Happiness to have her in his arms again. But one feeling was more powerful than the rest, and he needed to make sure she knew before anything else could happen.

"And I love you, Annabeth Chase."

She propped up on her elbows, staring at him dumbfounded. A long quiet moment passed before Percy broke the silence with a nervous laugh.

"Oh that's so sweet," he mimicked in a high voice. "But you know I'm not sure I feel that-"

She shut him up with a kiss. By now, they had kissed lots of times. There was Mt. St. Helen when she had surprised him with a kiss. Or the time they came back to camp high on the victory of defeating Kronos when they had kissed by the lake. And of course, the best underwater kiss ever which had become every underwater kiss since. But every time she kissed him, it made his stomach flip just like it was the first time all over again. When they finally parted, she leaned her forehead against his with a satisfied smirk.

"Of course I love you, seaweed brain. Think I'd have gone searching for eight months if I didn't?"

"I'd do it for you," he vowed, wrapping a ringlet around his finger. "I'd do anything for you."

"You're proving my point for me."

She smirked at him, and he took the moment to truly study her face. She was beautiful as always, but the deep, puffy rings under her eyes had definitely not been there before. Her cheekbones stood out sharper and he realized when he held her, she was thinner, gaunt even. He could feel each of her vertebrae when he ran his hand down her back. Her face was noticeably paler as well, and her hair lacked its normal shiny, glow. Overall, she pretty much looked like death warmed over. He traced the purple skin under her eyes.

"Gods, Annabeth, when's the last time you slept?"

She rolled her eyes at him. The first time he told her he loved her followed up with how tired she looked. Leave it to Percy Jackson to ruin a beautiful moment.

"Always the charmer, aren't you?"

"I mean it." The laugh in her throat died with his serious tone. Percy was seldom serious. "When's the last time you actually slept a full eight hours? And you haven't been eating well, I can tell. I know how you get when you stress."

Annabeth settled against his shoulder again, not able to bear the concern on his face. No, she hadn't taken great care of herself lately, and she didn't need Percy to remind her of that. Sally did enough of that commenting on the increasingly dark circles under her eyes, always insisting she stay for dinner, that she was getting too thin.

"I couldn't," she finally admitted in a small voice. It seemed pathetic to her now that she hadn't been able to take care of herself, but she lacked the will to without Percy. All of her focus has been on finding him.

"I had to find you. When I did sleep, I snuck into your cabin or fell asleep in your bed at the apartment." She paused waiting for his reaction. Would he be angry she snuck in there? Would he not like her sleeping in his beds while he'd been missing? But Percy just tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her head. She released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. It amazed her sometimes how Percy always seemed to know exactly what she needed.

"Being in there where it smelled like you, it was the only way I could actually get some sleep. Chiron had to know, but no one ever said anything."

Tears collected in her eyes, and she turned her face into his chest trying to stop them. Percy was the only person she ever let see her like this, weak and emotional. The only time she let herself break was in the seclusion of the Posidon cabin curled around his pillow.

"I missed you," she whispered hoarsely.

"I missed you too. The whole time, all I could think about was getting back to you. You kept me going, kept me alive."

"You mean you remembered me the whole time?" she asked incredulously. How could she have been the one thing he remembered? When Jason showed up, he hadn't remembered anything. It didn't make sense to her that Percy would remember anything, much less her.

"Yeah. Whether she meant to or not, you were the only thing Hera didn't take from me. The second I woke up, I didn't know my name, but I knew yours and knew I had to get back to you no matter what. More things came. The quests and all. That kiss under the lake. But it always came back to you. You're ingrained into who I am now, Annabeth. You were the reason I kept going because I knew I had to get back to you."

She leaned up pressing her lips to his again, tracing every inch of his face trying to memorize it. The kiss spoke everything they had struggled to say to each other. Her euphoric relief seeing him alive and well. His hope for a future with her in New Rome. The deep connection that had tied them together since they were twelve. Everything.

"I love you, Percy Jackson," she breathed against his lips, pouring every emotion she felt for him into the words. He grinned that lopsided smile she adored so much.

"I love you too, wise girl."

[mandowh0re]

Remember Me

Chapter 2

Summary: While cleaning up the timelines that he broke, Loki meets and inevitably loses the one person that’s understood him in life. But he’s not losing you without a fight.

A/N: Another chapter within a week?? More likely than you think! Beta'd by the ever beautiful @edgyvege. Go show her some love!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2303

Happy Reading!

Loki’s lying in his bed, clutching the book you had loaned him close to his chest.

He finished the book the first night of having it, and he regrets not pacing himself because he still has six days before he can see you again and isn’t sure how to keep himself sane until then. He doesn’t have much to his name anymore, having missed eleven years of his life and his home having been destroyed. So it’s not like he can turn to his favorite books or activities.

The Avengers had reluctantly agreed, mostly out of guilt because of Thor’s previous loss, to let Loki stay in the compound under the condition that he did not leave, did not use his magic unsupervised, and did not cause chaos. It had been an incredibly difficult adjustment, especially on his part, but he was willing to do whatever it took to see you again. So he did not complain even once.

When Loki had returned from timeline 656, the timeline in which he first met you, he was broken but determined. He was on a mission and refused to get distracted until his job was done. He had to find you again. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he didn’t.

So when Mobius agreed to bring Loki to this point of the timeline, he had given Loki the information to be able to find you.

You were his insurance, a way to make sure Loki stayed in his place.

So after two weeks of near perfect behavior and constant sulking from the trickster, Steve and Tony agreed that Loki could leave the compound, though only under Thor’s supervision.

When he first saw you again in that tiny bookstore, he felt like he had been hit in the chest by Thor’s hammer. He thought he was prepared to see you again. Your bright eyes and soft lips were all he could think about the past several months. But apparently, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

But you being you, you gave him a sweet smile and kindly helped him find the book you had told him about when the two of you had first met back in timeline 656. Because no matter the timeline, you were always one to help others.

And then you did something he wasn’t expecting. The possibility wasn’t even on his radar. You gave him your own copy to read, telling him it was so he had to come back and see you. He felt his chest constrict in that moment, yet at the same time a spark of hope exploded inside of him. It was something that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then when you asked him for his name, his heart broke again.

He had forgotten to even give you his name, because he had already known yours. Your name, your scent, your favorite laugh, your body.

He knew it all.

Yet you knew nothing about him. And after telling you his name, he was afraid you’d remember what he’d done to your city all those years ago. That you’d be afraid of him and reject him, just like most everyone else in his life. He wouldn’t blame you. He believed himself a monster, just like everyone else did.

But he kept himself from spiraling into his dark thoughts with the sole knowledge that the version of you in timeline 656 wasn’t scared of him. Not even before he explained to you what had really happened.

No, you had accepted him, helped him, and eventually loved him.

He could only hope that this version of you could do the same.

***

The day you met Loki, you were a bit shell shocked.

He left almost immediately after telling you his name, and you watched as he met up with a much larger blonde man before walking away. It took your brain one too many seconds to realize the blonde was Thor, making Loki the actual Loki. The Loki that reigned chaos and destruction to your beloved city all those years ago.

A few pieces of information struck you throughout the day, startling you each time:

Number one; you had actually hit on a literal god. The God of Mischief, no less.

Number two; he actually flirted back! What the fuck?

Number three; he never asked for your name.

And number four; you weren’t scared of him. More than that, you weren’t even angry with him.

You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. Why he didn’t intimidate you. Why you felt as if you understood him. Or why you felt like you knew him, more intimately than just having heard of him. You had only spoken to the man once, for crying out loud.

The week passes by incredibly slowly, and every time you think about your interaction or of seeing Loki again, butterflies come to life in your belly and a smile slowly comes across your face.

But today is finally the day.

It’s a quarter past eleven when the door to the shop opens, the small wind chime signaling someone had entered. You look up from your current read and see Loki taking a few short steps to the counter. He’s dressed to the nines again, wearing a dark grey suit with minimal green accents.

He looks positively delicious, and you curse yourself for letting that thought slip. You slide your bookmark into your novel before setting it on a small shelf behind you.

“Hey! You came back!” You say, your voice a few pitches higher than usual. You really weren’t expecting him to actually return the book himself. In fact, you weren’t sure what you expected at all.

He nods, “Of course, darling. I wanted to see you again,” his voice is deep and his eyes are trained on yours, “And discuss the book, obviously,” He lifts the loved copy in his hand, held between his nimble fingers.

Warmth blooms in your chest and you smile shyly. Your eyes flicker to the window where you saw Thor waiting last week.

“Where’s your chaperone?”

Loki raises a brow, glancing to the window next to him.

“I saw Thor meet you when you left last week.”

Realization dawns on Loki’s face, “Ah, yes. I must be accompanied by my brother at all times outside of the Avengers Compound. It is a term of my arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” You ask, cocking your head slightly.

For a moment, Loki falters. He’s said too much, explaining his situation could cause more questions to arise, and he did not need that right now. Because how in the nine realms would he answer them?

So instead of answering, he sets the book on the counter in between the two of you and smiles, “Nothing for you to concern yourself, dear. I would much rather talk about the blatant misinformation contained in this book.”

His tone is light and playful, so you laugh and pull the book closer to you, “Misinformation? You mean to tell me that you didn’t give birth to a horse?”

Loki rolls his eyes, “Gods, no! I did no such thing. Nor am I the father of Fenrir, Jormungandr, or Hela.” He makes a disgusted face.

“That’s a shame,” You fake pout, “You just ruined my favorite book for me.”

He scoffs, “Darling, I am the living, breathing version of the character in your book. How could a novel be more interesting than the real deal?”

You look at him, a mischievous glint in your eye, and Loki feels his heart jump in his throat. He’s seen that look before. The way your nose crinkles just slightly, causing your eyebrows to scrunch, barely noticeable. There’s a sparkle in your eye, one that tells Loki every time that you’re up to no good.

It was one of the many reasons he fell so hard for you.

“You’re very handsome, I’ll give you that. But I just think Book Loki has more layers. Ya know?”

Normally, if you had made a comment like that, Loki would have pinned you against a wall and put you in your place.

But that was another time. One that Loki desperately hoped would come to him once more.

“Well, I think that if you come to know me better, you shall see I am much more… Complex than you humans have made me out to be.” His voice has lowered a few tones, sweet and smooth like honey.

He’s closer now, leaning over with his forearms on the counter, and you feel a warmth spread across your belly. You curse yourself and discreetly press your thighs together.

But unbeknownst to you, Loki knew every single one of your mannerisms, quirks, and habits. And by default, he saw the little movement you made, and had to use his glamour to hide the way his body reacted.

Conversation flowed from there, banter flying back and forth, your quick wit almost matching his.

It somehow felt normal to you. Comfortable. It was bizarre and pleasant at the same time.

But for Loki, it was just a painful reminder of what he lost so many months ago.

Before he knew it, there was a single knock against the front window, signaling that his time was up. The both of you glanced up to see Thor, dressed in jeans and a casual cotton jacket, peeking inside.

Loki sighs, “While I wish I could stay longer and chat, I fear I must take my leave.” He stands from the chair you had pulled up next to you and straightens his jacket.

Your heart drops slightly, not wanting him to leave, and you stand with him.

“Well, how about I give you another book to read?”

“I was already planning on coming back,” He smirks, tilting slightly downward, “But I shan’t turn down a chance to read a book.”

“Good, because I love this one too.” You tell him, grabbing the book from your stash. You rip a piece of receipt paper from the small printer and quickly scribble on it, then tuck it into the front cover.

“And my name is Y/N, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last week.”

Loki smiles and takes the book from you, walking towards the door.

“Well, Y/N, it has been a pleasure. I shall see you again next week.”

***

“Brother, I see you have another book.” Thor says as he moves to walk alongside Loki, who was already reading the book summary.

Loki only makes a hum of acknowledgment, but doesn’t say anything.

They walk in silence towards the secluded alley where Loki can transport them back to the compound without curious eyes.

The silence is comfortable, yet eerie. Thor is still recovering from the shock of having Loki back, though it wasn’t the same Loki he lost on that forsaken ship.

And Loki… He’s just trying to wrap his head around everything that has happened. Everything he missed because he jumped from 2012 to 2021. He didn’t get to say goodbye to Frigga. He didn’t get to have a last look at Asgard. And now the one woman Loki is sure he cannot live without, doesn’t remember him.

They get back to the compound without incident, and Loki heads back to his room like he always does, choosing to interact with the Avengers as little as possible, lest there be a fight.

He tilts his head up slightly, eyes screwed shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Friday, is it? Where is the spider child?”

“Peter is in the penthouse. Would you like me to relay a message to him?”

Loki bites his lip. Is he really going to do this?

Yes, he supposes he is.

“Can you ask him to come to my quarters?”

“Of course.”

Loki paces, waiting for Peter. After several minutes, there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It opens slowly, revealing a confused Peter.

“Hey, Friday said you asked for me?”

“Yes.” Loki nods, then hands the boy a small piece of paper.

The same paper you put into the book earlier in the day.

Peter, now fully in the room, takes the paper and shoots a curious glance at Loki, before reading.

~

I don’t know if you have a cell phone, or even know what one is.

But if you do, feel free to text or call me :)

555-555-5555

-Y/N

~

“If you tell anyone about this, I shall have your head.” Loki hisses, but there’s no heat behind it. Peter is one of the few humans Loki cares about dearly. The little shit had somehow managed to weasel his way into Loki’s notoriously cold heart within the first week.

And Peter knew this.

“Yeah, yeah,” He smirks, “Why are you showing it to me in the first place?”

“While I know what a cell phone is, I am unsure about how to acquire one. That is where you come in.”

Peter’s eyes light up, “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Loki crosses his arms, fearing he may come to regret this.

***

“What do you want?”

“It’s been a while. Nice hearing your voice.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Ouch.”

“Answer my question.”

“I want you to join us, of course. Thought that was clear by now.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well, figured I’d try... Anyways, I received word that Loki is back on Earth.”

“Not sure why you think I care, or how this concerns me.”

“I would like for you to bring him in.”

“I don’t work for you. Use your own goons.”

“He’s protected by Thor, and the Avengers by default. But you could easily-”

“Like I said. I don’t work for you. Why don’t you try intimidating one of your other experiments?”

“Star-”

“That’s not my name. Goodbye.”

***

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[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E113 (Oct. 27, 2020)

Good evening and good night, lovely people of the world! We’re on the internet and ready to go. Tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham and Sam Riegel. This will be calm, controlled, and sane, I can feel it. Brian points out it’s been seven months since either of them were on Talks. Oof. (Sam asks if it’s been going the whole time without him. Bigger oof.) Travis keeps sneaking bites out of an acai bowl or something and tries to look sneaky about it, and I laugh every time because he’s just...so big. He’s such a big person.

(Brian is wearing a lobstrosity shirt. He and Travis talk about Dark Tower for a bit; then Sam tries to get into the conversation: “Is that the thing from It?” Brian: “Is what the thing from It?” Sam: “Is that lobster the clown from It? I’m not very literate. Is that a Langolier? Is that a Shawshank?”)

Announcements: none! Maybe they just forgot. We’ve been talking about Sam’s spooky skeleton decorations for like five minutes. Brian suggests taking them to Travis’s house. Travis: “That’s the fastest way to get to the smell of burning plastic.” Brian: “Speaking of your girlfriend...”

On Avantika: Fjord wouldn’t call it a relationship as much as a casual sexual interaction. Not official! Super not official!!

The first sea voyage wasn’t great for Fjord, but he tried to be thoughtful about preparing for this one before they left: praying, kneeling at the bow of the ship, etc. He’s a little disappointed the Wildmother didn’t even throw him a “yo, fam” heads up.

They weren’t sure how to resolve the conflict at first, since Avantika went for Fjord rather than the crystal. No one expected it to get exposed in that way. Travis thought the necklace was a pocket dimension and was alarmed to learn it wasn’t. Travis wants it destroyed along with the third gateway, so until they are he won’t rest easy.

Everyone enjoyed watching them all fail on the battlefield again. (Sam: “You used [Counterspell] so effectively!”) Travis thought he’d said Thunder Step, which would imply Avantika was running, rather than Thunder Wave. Sam says it’s fine since none of them have that spell and he wouldn’t know it anyway.

It’s very difficult for Veth to find reasons to stay with the M9. She loves the adventures and making a difference, but she also wants to come home and have weekends and have a husband and life. “She’s a career girl!” He’s very excited about the possibilities of Caleb’s transportation effectively creating an easy commute for her. He also, as a player, doesn’t want to be the person who’s always leaving the party. “My characters wanna roam!”

Travis was fully tilted that Avantika might have gotten away right before the break. He doesn’t think he could have focused on Vess DeRogna’s task knowing Avantika had gotten away; he was seriously working out how Fjord would leave the party to go make a last stand at the third gate if she’d escaped.

Sam looooves how Matt plays Yeza, but it honestly makes him feel a little worse at how encouraging he is for Veth to chase her dreams. “He’s always like - go shine! Go blossom!” He wants to have the conversation about Yeza feeling a little ignored. It’s fun to share the tales of adventures with Luc & Yeza. 

Travis says there’s no way it’s Molly--it’s all Lucien. They don’t know if it was a resurrection, if he’s undead, possessed, etc. Everyone--everyone--rags on Taliesin’s accent work. Brian surreptitiously claims Ashly was brought on to relieve him of the burden of the accent. Poor Ashly, ha!

Initially, Travis landed on the Oath of the Ancients, but it had more nature & pacifism in it than he felt fit Fjord very well. Many of them also had a focus on good & lawfulness, which also didn’t feel quite right; he also wasn’t that vengeful for some of the others. He & Matt got together and discussed options. Matt asked what Travis liked about Fjord; Fjord’s love for the ocean was a huge part of it, since Travis himself also loves the ocean & scuba diving, and so Matt created a custom oath for him. Travis does not plan to post its details, but he thinks Matt will at some point.

Cosplay of the Week! a lovely Scanlan by Air Bubbles Cosplay! Sam tells us the “canon” Scanlan cosplay was actually borrowed hodgepodge, and the boots were falling off all day.

It was really cool to see how Yeza & Luc have made a home in Nicodranas. Felderwin was okay, but kind of your basic D&D fishing village, and she likes the Nicodranas is much better. She’s confident & comfortable knowing her family is safe and sound.

Why is Fjord so interested in finding Sabian? To him, post-orphanage, his time with Vandren was the best of his life & the most love he’d ever received, because he mattered & had worth. It was taken by someone he’d known basically his whole life, so Fjord is not going to let that go. “That fuckin’ bill needs to be paid, my friend.”

Sam acknowledges that he should NOT have looked at his phone in re: the Vilya reveal, but it was pretty surprising! He can’t believe none of them recognized it! Travis points out the M9 had never met, heard of, or known anything about Vilya, so it’s not that surprising. Brian points out Matt has also done a really good job keeping the two campaigns separate, so any references were tasteful. Sam marvels that it was so well done: it was tasteful, had emotional and story impact... “That Matt. He’s getting better!”

Liam texted Sam back something like “oh SHIT.”

Knowing Veth had a chance to help someone else return to her child made Veth feel almost karmically forgiven for being away from her kid, but it also made Veth a little guilty--”this lady wants to desperately return home, shouldn’t I want to go home too?” Caleb’s teleportation spell couldn’t have come a better time.

Sam wants Caleb & Astrid to get back together (well, he says “hump each other”), and Dani’s eyebrows climb off her forehead. Veth/Nott really thinks Caleb needs to have a roll in ze hay, and feels like after meeting her that there is a kindness or vulnerability to her that could be worthwhile. Travis thinks she feels like someone tethered, that it feels like she has a bomb or something in her chest that’ll explode if she tries to leave. Sam thinks Eadwulf is super cool. None of these names are spelled like I think.

Travis found the dinner super frustrating, because he felt Caleb was trying to walk a diplomatic line and he just wanted to backhand Trent. 

Fjord is still coming to terms with his feelings for Jester, and the feelings are definitely real, but there’s a lot of timing that he’s considering and he also wants to figure out what the relationship is like outside of constant tension and battle. Fjord is also having trouble figuring out how to exercise the ability to display affection as well since he’s never received them, and is feeling out how to give and receive them. “It’s fine now, because he’s feeling it, but once you say it out loud, or once you come to a point where you make it known to the other side, then what happens? It might be ruined. It might be broken. Or it might not be!” The moment with the porcelain unicorn was too good not to try. Travis also sighs that he’s not a romance D&D guy, “but now I am! Fuckin’ Laura Bailey!” He’s definitely feeling it out and will see how it unfolds in the game.

If Jester hadn’t let go of the Traveler, Fjord would have either attacked the Traveler or the Moonweaver and tried to kick them both off.

Sam doesn’t think the Traveler’s realized yet what a dick he is. Brian thinks it may not happen in this campaign, but agrees the full weight of what he deserves hasn’t been felt yet. Travis: “Yeah, he came to the edge, but it didn’t cost him anything.” Brian: “Yeah, he’s a real edgelord.”

Fanart of the Week! a beautiful portrait of Molly in the snow by @claygryphon on twitter.

Veth acknowledges that they work for shady people with shady pasts, so Vess DeRogna isn’t her first rodeo, but this time it’s personal. It’s Jaws 2: Electric Boogaloo. Sam can’t commit to actual actions, since Vess is like level 20 or something, but “I will get some kinda revenge. Be it petty or significant, I will get revenge.”

How are they feeling about being in Eiselcross? They’ve only just landed, so not sure yet. The cold is intimidating. They’re excited to explore a new island that’s part of Wildemount, especially with the river of lava running through it. “It’s icy with lava? Sounds like a Dairy Queen.”

There’s still a ton of unknowns regarding the Tombtakers, Vess, the nature of their job, and who’s here on whose orders. They’re excited to see how it’s all going to play out. Travis laughs that he doesn’t take notes, he’s just here to fight things. It just washes over him when Matt starts talking about names and places. “It’ll reveal itself in time. [...] I don’t write those notes down. I don’t even know how to spell it off the bat.” I have never identified more with Travis. Sam actually does pay attention and take notes and was really impressed by Marisha’s dive.

Veth became interested in branding her own spellcraft as soon as she saw Caleb doing it. “That’s what the influencer agents are gonna be looking at. It would be nice to leave the world better than we found it, but also with some branded spells.”

What were Fjord’s thoughts on dropping so much money on the ring & the Ioun stone? It wasn’t about money for Fjord, it was about a cool thing to acquire. It’s why he saves money in his campaign. Caleb needs “as much of a flak jacket as he can get.” He also REJECTS the idea of buyer’s remorse on the ring and touts the effectiveness it’ll have on the lava river.

Travis talks about his old coins - a 340AD coin he bought at a ren faire and a 120BC coin that was a gift from a friend.

Sam marvels at the love and thought that Caleb put into the tower. Sam points out they forgot to go to the top two floors altogether. Travis: “Did the mansion get as much careful planning from Scanlan as the tower did from Caleb?” Sam: Absolutely not. But they were still thinking small in C1, figuring out how things went, and they didn’t have as much detail in their heads yet.

And that’s all the time we have for tonight! We end on everyone whispering way too close into their mics and tapping fingernails on mason jars. A fitting end to this crazy episode, I think.

Is it Thursday yet?

[prose-for-hire]

UC Sunnyhell: Part Two

Hell is a place on Earth

Previous Part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. Things appear to go from bad to worse.

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan​ 

Other tag: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere

Warning: Sex references. Swearing.

The first semester had been and gone by this point. You were settling into life at UC Sunnydale, found your friendship group in Buffy and the others. But one thing you still weren’t accustomed to, was living with Spike. He was hard to get along with at the best of times but living with him was a whole different thing.

He appeared to stay up most of the night and sleep well into the afternoon. He played loud punk music almost every waking hour and he smoked like a chimney. He never appeared to listen to a word you said and he pretty much did the opposite from whatever you said or thought anyway.

It was becoming really hard to live with him. Especially when he seemed to do everything he could to make you want to move out. He found it easier to live alone. To hide in the depths of what he knew than

Because of your current living situation you had started to branch out and pursue some of your interests. It beat staying in all the time and you really wanted to find someone that you could relate to.

You were a fan of musicals and the theatre. Poetry and literature. You liked reading and the way a writer could weave such intricate feelings. Scenes and spoken word able to explain your own feelings better than you ever could.

Your new friends didn’t really share your enthusiasm – even Willow was more into science and computers. Although your friend group were kind enough to listen to the way you spoke about your interests. They certainly didn’t make you feel bad about expressing your passions. But they just didn’t share your love and so you began to try to search out people that you could connect with. On some kind of deeper level.

You had been frequenting different bars that held open mic nights. Watching plays and listening to monologues. Letting the intricate wordplay wash over you. It could make you feel so many emotions. So many feelings were conjured.

Your favourite were the open mic nights. You pretty much never got up yourself, you usually would just listen. You were working yourself up to performing something of your own. You wrote things too it was just a matter of working on your performing skills. You were thinking of joining the clubs, maybe to improve your confidence in your writing. In your performing.

You walked back home from a play you had watched (and cried at) to find Spike sat there scribbling something. It was the first time you had ever seen him actually writing or appearing to do any work.

You were about to make a snide comment about it and then he noticed your presence. He almost jumped five feet in the air in surprise. He then hid the notebook behind his back and immediately got up to leave now you had returned. He left muttering something about you being a nosy bitch.

Spike had taken the opportunity, while he finally had time where he felt comfortable since you had actually left the house for once to write. This was something he didn’t like people knowing about. He wiped his eye as he stormed away. Hoping to God you hadn’t seen that. He couldn’t bear you knowing him that way. Laughing.

It was Friday evening and you had some friends over. There was a sudden knock at the front door. Spike had taken a baseball bat from his room and held it up as if he was ready to swing it.

Willow and Buffy’s eyes bulged at the object in his hand as they peaked from your bedroom doorway. Buffy was pleased they had convinced you to come to self-defence class now.

He walked slowly to the door, meeting you in the hallway skipping happily past him. He grabbed you back looking at you as if you were mad. He was expecting debt collectors. Again.

“Spike, it’s the pizza guy” You moved your shoulder from him before carrying on back to the door with the dollars in your hand, “What is wrong with you?” you muttered.

He scowled, jaw tensing as Buffy and Willow giggled at the way he had been so tense and he stormed away smacking the edge of the bat against the wall in his frustration. Leaving a small hole there.

You brought the pizzas back into your room (so you didn’t have to face spike again) and shared them out with your friends.

After you finished your meal and managed to calm yourselves down from whatever had just happened, talk of course turned back to Spike.

“So how is it… y’know…” Willow asked before mouthing “with Spike”. You hadn’t realised how much built up rage you had inside until you launched into your conversation.

“Well, I can tell you that Hell really is a place on Earth”

“That bad?”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with him – if I even breath in his direction he has a problem with it!”

“Yeah, he’s always been a complete pig. Some people are just born evil” Buffy shrugged.

“Buffy! He’s not evil! He’s just… mean spirited”

“In the most evil way” Buffy added. She had never liked Spike. He was cruel and treated her as if she was dumb just because she was in a sorority and enjoyed cheerleading.

What you and the two girls didn’t realise, was that Spike was eavesdropping. You had all been laughing really loud and he was about to take his chance to kick Buffy and her little loser friend out. Until he found he was interested to hear what you all had to say about him.

You groaned, thinking about the way things had been. You needed to vent. So, you took the chance while you were in the company of your now closest friends.

“He’s inconsiderate and rude and also I’m pretty sure he never washes his clothes... but he always smells good. Weird”

“Totally weird”

“Well, we did like, warn you”

“And oh my God! He walks around naked all the time! There’s always some stranger he’s brought home and they are always so loud! He never studies and the plates are always piled high in the kitchen! It’s disgusting – he’s disgusting!”

“He’s always been so arrogant and gross”

“Hey, don’t wig, next year we can find a place. The four of us – right Buffy?” Willow offered, including her girlfriend. She comforted you as you caught your breath from your outburst. Willow rested her hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

“Really?” You asked with a smile as Buffy nodded. She was going to move out from her sorority so she wasn’t distracted for her last year she had already decided.

“Don’t worry, y/n. We’ll keep you sane” Buffy insisted.

Spike scoffed. The way Buffy acted as if she was saving you from him. As if he was a fate worse than death. You angered him. The way you had determined his character over a few fleeting conversations. The gossip your silly little friends told you.

You became enemy number one. Even more so than you had been before. He hated gossip and the way people would laugh behind his back. You reminded him of this every time he looked at you now, not that you knew this.

The annoyance for the other just kept growing. Yours had originally been fuelled by your friends rumours, but his actions were now getting worse. Spike was seething at your dismissive tone against your character. He didn’t even want a roommate, he only agreed the landlord to put the room up so he didn’t put up the rent again.

So he decided to try and make you leave. Properly this time. He didn’t care anymore, you reminded him of everyone out there. Everyone that he hid himself away from. Distanced himself from.

The tension rose uncomfortably. He was more rude. More gross. And he made sure to do everything he knew that he could to annoy you. It was petty, he knew it, but he knew it would get a rise out of you.

One afternoon, you had been scraping off some congealed red liquid that you had been concerned was blood. He hung out with a weird crowd, you only hoped some poor thing hadn’t been exploded in there. Although, upon further inspection it appeared to be tomato soup. But you would probably embellish the story a little to your friends.

You washed your hands and scowled at him. He had moved to lean against the doorway and just watch you clean.

“God, Spike, you’re so lazy”

“’Scuse me?”

“You don’t clean, you don’t study – what exactly do you do with your life?”

He was affronted by this. By the way you spoke to him. How he felt like you acted like you were better than him. In your frustration you didn’t care what he thought. He just didn’t care. You were trying to live your life.

He could hear Buffy or even Angel’s voice through your own. The way they had always berated him.

“And what? I should be like you? You’re not exactly making a proper go of it are you? Haven’t seen you do much of anything ‘cept follow them brainless bints around the shop. When you’re not doing that you sit in your room as life passes you by, livin’ through your little Musical shows rather than living in the real world - You’re boring. You’ll live your pathetic little life, stuck in your lame little ways until you die”

“Spike-”

“You’re all the same! You and your preppy little band of misfits looking down your noses at everyone and yet you can’t see the obvious, can you? You’re so bored with your pathetic, frigid little lives that you have to make it my bloody problem!”

You decided, seeing as that’s how he viewed you that you would treat him exactly like that. Like he treated you. Things got worse.

He started to invite people over all the time. You would call it a party but there was nothing celebratory about it. You were confined to your room most of the time as they all laughed and screamed along to their music. They were always drinking and playing music no matter what time of the day you saw them.

You usually avoided them, locking your door, but you had needed to slip out of your room for a moment.

“Who’s this?” One of the guests pointed you out as you tried to make it to the bathroom without anybody noticing you. Now everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Oh don’t mind them, they’re just for show hasn’t had an original thought their entire life” Spike shrugged.

“Aw, no, Spike. Another mindless automaton” One of his friends spoke up and he laughed. It was a cold laugh, there was no humour in it.

“Do you, like, want to-”

“Don’t, love. They’re nobody” Spike stopped the blonde girl from speaking to you more kindly than the rest. They all laughed at this and began to tease you.

You left, slamming the door and you heard them laughing, jeering at you for your reaction. It made tears sting the back of your eyes. You collected yourself, shrugging on your jacket. You walked to a place you knew you would be welcome.

You knew that you weren’t going to get on. But this was getting out of hand. You hated him. Hated the way he treated you. The way he judged you, despite him knowing exactly how that feels.

As you thought this, he appeared to be thinking the same thing. Which made Spike scoff and frown. Was he really better than any of the people he hated? He shook that thought away. Downing his beer and looking for another rather than reflect.

You had called Buffy on your way over and she had been quick to contact the entire group to tell them there had been a major incident. Everyone piled around to her dorm room so that they could support you. You had sounded upset on the phone.

You explained everything that had happened and they all comforted you the best that they could. Xander then showed you the stack of films he had brought to try to cheer you up. He had even found some Musicals just for you.

Buffy explained that she had called Angel but he says he’s sorry but he’s busy right now. Buffy appeared disappointed and when you asked her about it she explained. They used to date when they were seniors in college but they had broken up despite still both having feelings for each other.

She explained it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but now she wished they were back together. You insisted that you would make it your mission to help them get back together which made Buffy grin at you. She really did value your friendship.

As the night wore on your friends began to discuss the idea of you taking your revenge on Spike. It had made you laugh as they suggested ridiculous pranks and ideas that wouldn’t bother him at all. But then they began to take it more seriously. Insisting that you should get even.

You said you weren’t sure. And left it at that. But they thought you had better do something or he wouldn’t stop.

You eventually went back to a trashed house after staying for the weekend with Buffy. You stared at the mess. Maybe you would have to do something.

It had been unusually quiet the few days prior and you should have known better than to hope he had stopped. You had heard a girl, one of Spike’s partners that came around more than most (Harmony but her sex noises were nothing close to harmonious). She explained that if they were to have a threesome it would have to be boy-boy-girl. Apparently, neither of them had been able to swing Charlize Theron.

You had overheard this conversation over breakfast one morning on. A rare occasion they were both awake (they hadn’t gone to sleep yet). You had immediately spat out your food in disgust of their blunt discussion.

It had been perhaps in slight exaggeration but you felt like you were allowed. You were fine with people having sex and having fun but you really didn’t want to have to hear about it over your breakfast. They could have at least let you rub the sleep from your eyes first.

He had scoffed at you at the time and now he had set this up seemingly just to rub you up the wrong way. As opposed to the right ways he was rubbing his partners.

He tried to push the thought down that this had been solely planned because of you. With you in mind. To get a reaction from you. Because that would start him questioning his intentions. His actions. How you made him so angry it was now near obsessive.

So, it appeared they had finally agreed on the logistics of it. And were now giving you a live audio performance. On some random Thursday afternoon just as you had settled down to study.

You swore they were doing it on purpose. Being as loud as possible just to get a rise out of you.

You pounded on the door. You could smell sex from where you were stood out on the landing. He opened the door and stale cigarette smoke appeared to pour out of the room with him. He had opened the door almost immediately. As if he had been waiting.

“Spike!”

“Problem, pet?”

“I don’t care that you’re having sex, the walls are just so thin – I have an exam coming up can you just be quiet? Or go to one of your, uh, friends’ houses…”

“Mm, someone’s jealous”

“I’m not-”

“Just ‘cause you’re not bloody gettin’ any” He prodded before he thought about it a moment, changing tac, “Oh no. I know what this is… You want me, you need me…” He teased, knowing it would make you flustered.

“I just- I just want to-”

“If you wanted a taste all you had to do was ask” He smirked, moving his hips slightly and moving his head smugly along with his words. Drawing your attention to his naked form. The people in his bed were calling him back and you were just staring at each other. All he was wearing was a single silver chain around his neck. He was attractive, you couldn’t deny this and he knew it too. 

You were both furious at each other. Silently trying to gain the upper hand.

“You’re a pig, Spike!” You suddenly screamed, stepping towards him angrily. Which made him smile and just close the door in your face. That was what he had wanted. To get such a big emotional response from you.

You were so angry you threw one of your precious book at his now slammed shut door. He winced at the name you had used, one often used against him by people like Buffy. She even managed to get to him in his own home. You angered him. You angered him.

But he turned back and the noises started up again and you knew for sure that they were doing it on purpose now. It was getting louder and louder. He couldn’t be that fucking good, you were sure of it.

You ran into your room and rummaged through the stack of CDs you had brought with you, selecting the perfect accompaniment. The soundtrack from your favourite musical. You turned the volume up fully and let the entire score play out.

You never wanted to see his stupid smug face again.

[thekryptonianandthecitygirl]

Clark on the things he loves/notices about Lois

As he gently puts her down, she squeezes his arms in gratitude and smiles, shouting her thanks over the loud noise of the helicopter.

It’s a nice smile, he thinks.

Clark smiles back.

____________________________________________

She’s bold. Brave, determined - oh, so very determined.

He’d suspected that since the very first moment, when the lieutenant congratulated her over her pieces about the First Division, and she’d chuckled, claiming that she got writer’s block if she wasn’t wearing a flak jacket. Clark had made a mental note to check out her articles.

And then, it’s just - one thing after another. The way she stands up to the general in that tent, setting things up straight as she calls him out on his dick measuring competition. The insolent smile and snarky comment she left him with, when he hoped to faze her with poor sleeping arrangements.

The way she wanders alone in the freezing cold, follows a stranger, and gets out her camera as she comes face to face with an alien machine.

When he gathers her in his arms that night, carefully carrying her out for her to be found as soon as the ship leaves, Clark can’t help but linger a little on her face. Sleeping, slightly whiten with the pain, she almost looks fragile.

The last few hours alone are enough for him to know how much looks can be deceiving.

Adjusting her coat around her, Clark gets up and slowly backs away towards his ship, and thinks that he’s probably never encountered someone so driven, something a little like awe building up in his stomach.

____________________________________________

She…accepts him.

When he tells her his story, the story of how he let his own father die simply not to be discovered, the story he’s most ashen of, Clark expects her disgust. A flinch, a few babbling and awkward words - at the very least, a look in her clear eyes that tells him just how terrible a person he is.

Instead, all he finds is compassion. Understanding, somehow.

She doesn’t publish anything.

In fact, she protects him, refusing to unveil any information about him when he knows the military must have tried to be pretty persuasive. But Lois doesn’t say a word. 

Instead, she teases him about his costume, a smirk on her lips and a glimmer in her eyes in that interrogation room as if they weren’t being watched by angry-looking US soldiers. As if a Kryptonian one isn’t on his way to them, about to change the world forever.

He thinks he’s halfway in love with her already, and then she reaches out to him and holds his hand as they stand in the middle of the desert. For a brief moment, he feels the crushing weight of the loneliness he’s been bearing lighten a little. His chest tightens.

Clark wishes he could tell her again how much her kindness means to him. A kindness he’s rarely, so rarely felt before. One he could never repay.

The words don’t come, though, and so he simply squeezes back, hoping she understands.

____________________________________________

After it’s all over, after he’s snapped the life out of the only one of his people left, after he’s fallen on his knees, she’s here.

She holds him close, a reassuring hand on his shoulder protecting him from the world, from himself. Her fingers thread in his hair as she whispers that it’s okay, that he’s saved them all. That it wasn’t his fault, and that she’s here.

He holds on to her as if she’s the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him safe. In that moment, she is.

He’s not really sure how long they stay here, or how she gets him to stand. She does, though, and, thanks to her, he manages to get enough of a grip of himself to start helping with the rescue of the people that have survived.

(Before he goes, she squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek, whispering to him that she’ll be here when he’s done. Her eyes, soft, her voice, confident despite the chaos that’s surrounding her. Her own city, turned to ashes.)

He doesn’t see her for weeks, after that. Three, to be exact.

He’s counted every day.

He rescues as many as he can, helps with clearing out the ruins, follows the instructions to begin the reconstruction. Metropolis, Smallville, the whole Pacific area. There’s so much to do. 

He only stops to check on his mother and repair the house, or when he starts to feel his strength leave him despite having recharged. The first time it happens, he’s been at it for a little over 48 hours straight.

He’s a little afraid to show up at her doorstep after so long, but he does anyway. When she spots him waiting from her elevator and throws herself into his arms, her grocery bag falling heavily on the ground in her haste, Clark feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in days.

In the weeks that follow, she helps him. Clark wonders if she’ll ever stop doing that, and finds himself selfishly hoping that she never does. She helps him help them, in a reconstruction effort that feels more and more possible each day. She forces him to rest and eat and sleep, hands on her hips and what he soon begins to recognize as a ‘this is not up for discussion’ face. She paces back and forth in her small living room as they try to find out what job could fit him, beams when they do. She helps him for days and days until he has a convincing application to send to Perry.

When he gets hired at the Daily Planet, she whispers to him how proud she is, and Clark feels like his heart might burst out of his chest.

She does all that, makes it all possible, and next to that, she does everything else.

Her articles on the attack, and then on the reconstruction, break records in online reading. She helps her neighbours, goes out to stay with Jenny one night when the young intern relives the whole thing all over again. She volunteers.

Clark can see it in her eyes, though. The shadow there sometimes, when they fall on unattended ruins, or pass by that café she used to like, and is now nothing more than dust. How she tears up sometimes, whenever they broadcast images of the invasion. The nightmares.

(He holds her, keeping her close at night. Listening to her quiet confessions as they lay in her bed. He wishes he could do more.)

But, despite all of that, she keeps going - always. Keeps him going, never complaining, her resolve never wavering.

She’s strong, a force of nature, and Clark wonders what he possibly did to deserve her.

____________________________________________

When he first tells her that her heartbeat is the sound he now focuses on to drown out the world’s noise and stay sane, he hears it skip a beat.

Seconds pass, and she’s still not saying anything - she simply stares at him, mouth a little agap. They’re in her bed, him sitting against the headboard and her straddling him, and the soft hands that were cupping his face have now fallen to his neck.

He’s terrified.

He should have known better, of course. Six months isn’t that long, and knowing that an alien that you’ve known for such a short time is monitoring you like this is probably something no one wants to hear. Her heartbeat is skyrocketing now, just like his own, and he hates himself for scaring her like that. For letting himself get carried away, when he knows that’s something he can never afford.

He’s about to tell her, to apologize and promises he’ll stop, that he’ll even leave right now to give her some space, but then she kisses him, soft and tender as her fingers thread in his hair.

When he opens his eyes, she’s already looking at him.

“I love you,” she says. In his chest, he feels like his heart explodes.

____________________________________________

He’s in love with Lois Lane.

And he likes her smile, likes her drive and kindness. Her strength. 

But then, there’s hundreds of other things, too. Things that make her Lois, and that make him fall a little deeper for her every day. How he can love her more and more than he already does, he has no idea.

It’s those eyes, clear and deep and piercing, just like her. How she says his name. The beauty mark on her hip, the freckles on her skin. The way she always falls asleep drooling on him during movie night, but will never admit to it. The small, happy sigh she makes when he comes back after a night of being Superman, and curls his body around hers. 

There’s the way she always fights against injustice, whether it is standing up against racial discrimination one day where they’re shopping, or publishing a two-part story to take down a corrupted politician.The glimmer in her eye when she’s got a new lead, and the unapologetic pride when her article turns into a success. The smile full of that same pride when he comes home after having saved the day once again.

It’s everything, he realizes. He loves everything about her.

When she offers that they move in together, there’s something close to worry on her face as she waits for him to speak. If only she knew.

Chuckling, Clark leans down and kisses her, whispering his answer against her lips.

[citadelspires]

Ducktales AU Concept Because My Brain Runs On Concepts I Can’t Finish:

Dewey actually waits for the signal to start the boat and they actually leave for Cape Suzette without Donald finding out. He believes they’re ready to be left alone for small periods at a time and while he is still hired on with Glomgold the obvious complications there happen and he simply just goes back to whatever he was doing, because Scrooge wasn’t reinvigorated by the kids and never ended up going to Atlantis in the first place. Cut to the ambiguously set point of over a year later, and we get the return of Della from the moon, but to a drastically different world than the one she comes back to in the show. (For the sake of the au I’m just gonna say the moon invasion doesn’t happen cause the point of this is to focus on the characters and the imminent and impossible to stop moon threat would actually be impossible to stop in this au). I’m just gonna go through the characters and where they’d be at in this setting.

The first, and arguably one of the most affected is  Scrooge: He never got back into adventuring due to the absence of the kids pushing him back into the business. He continues to be profitable and avoid Glomgold’s attempts on his life but he’s generally less cheery and interested in the world than he is in the show. He cares about money and he only cares about money. Everything and everyone else are a second thought to him. Like she does in canon Della makes for McDuck Manor immediately upon return to earth only to find that the only one waiting for her is Scrooge. He opens the door to find her and his initial reaction is joy at seeing her but a secondary reaction he feels poking at the back of his mind is one of shame that this is the state he’s in for her to return to, particularly when she asks him where her kids are and he just tells her he doesn’t know. There’s a look of betrayal in her eyes when she realizes that he just abandoned everyone and cut off every aspect of the life he used to have and she doesn’t even try to hide it. Scrooge wants to offer to come with her to find them but something holds him back and he doesn’t. She runs off to find them herself and despite everything he wants to the contrary Scrooge just goes to his office like he would any other day, knowing that the person he’s been missing for over ten years now is finally returned after he thought she was dead and here he is acting like nothing is different.

Launchpad is fun because he never has any reason for Scrooge to find out he’s a pilot. He tries to mention it to Scrooge occasionally, like we see in the first episode, but just like in that episode he’s always ignored. Not that Scrooge would have any adventures for Launchpad to take him to anyway. So Launchpad continues being nothing but Scrooge’s driver. And that’s enough for him because he’s Launchpad you know? And he still looks up to Scrooge a lot, but he’s never given the opportunity to grow close to him, or anyone really. Fittingly enough for Launchpad, he’s just been living life on autopilot for a couple years, not really expecting anything to ever change.

Webby has two distinct directions you can go and I chose to go for the sadder one. She continues to be shut in the mansion. I choose to take her speech in the first episode about how she hasn’t ever left literally and say that Beakley kept her there her entire life. The possible other direction I mentioned is one where she only grows more anxious and hopeful to see the outside world and she’s basically just even Webbier than she already is. But that’s less angsty and enjoyable for me to mess with so instead I’m gonna go with she hit this wall at some point in the year or so between when she would have met HDL and when Della comes back from the moon. The weight of being alone starts to get to her and she starts to wonder if all her optimism and hopes are just a poor defense system put up to let her pretend she’s gonna have a better future than the life she’s got. She also makes continuous attempts to interact with Scrooge but the more he lets age settle in and distance himself from adventures the less she feels engaged with his existence. He starts to feel to her not like an idol or a model to live her life by but like a living, breathing symbol of how her hopes and positivity are shallow and baseless. Cause Scrooge McDuck was the only thing that kept her going for years and this is nothing like the hero she read about. But that’s the thing. She’s only really read about him. As far as anything heroic goes. So she reaches the final breaking point of all of this and decides that Scrooge is a fake and leaves behind her signature bright, bubbly attitude on life. This is the state she’s in when the story starts, to the point where a scene happens at some point after she gets drawn into the plot where she’s been outside of the manor now and Dewey offers her a hamburger and she says it looks disgusting.

Lena never got the chance to become friends with Webby and get her route into McDuck Manor. But that also means she never got the chance to learn about being good from the literal goodest person in the universe. She isn’t interested in doing the right thing and not hurting Scrooge or anything she’s just following Magica’s orders cause that’s what she’s being forced to do. But as part of the whole thing where she hasn’t got an in route into the manor she also hasn’t gotten any means of being successful in really any capacity in this endeavor. As a result Magica has... not. been kind to her. So while she isn’t evil she’s been living as magica’s meat puppet with the witch constantly in her head tormenting her for her failures for months on end and she was already morally ambiguous to begin with. So she’d take out Magica in a heartbeat if she could but there’s nothing that says she wouldn’t just explode afterwards.

Mark Beaks never had his B.U.D.D.Y. contested because Launchpad was never told about the self driving car and even if he had been he didn’t have the standing with Scrooge to make a difference and he didn’t have Dewey to help him make the declaration. As a result the product went up without any hitches. It was a massive success until BulbTech kicked in, turned evil, and suddenly it wasn’t. Anyone who could afford a B.U.D.D.Y. was using one, and the results were catastrophic. Not even Beaks had enough good press and money to pay for all that. He narrowly avoided prison but he was never taken seriously or given any chances to build up a company again. He still lives his life stealing technology and messing with inventions as he always did but now he does it a lot more illegally, a lot more dangerously, and a lot less sanely. Most devastatingly though, he gets like, no good press. People won’t even be caught dead following his twitter. He’s living his worst nightmare and he’s going to do whatever it takes to change that.

Gyro fires Fenton for leaking BulbTech on the internet and never looks back. He continues the work that Scrooge wants him to do and Fenton never drives him to push the envelope or do anything even close to what Gizmoduck becomes. He continues with his own dangerous projects and ideas but he does play it safe for some time. He’s content to just be making stuff, and Scrooge is content to just have stuff made for him. But he also never really gets to unleash that, well, part of Gearloose where he’s got a gear loose and it seems like he might just snap and make something really wild any day now.

Fenton never had to become Gizmoduck that iconic first time, so he just. Didn’t. The armor was left in its development phase as it was, and Fenton was never even considered to be the man in the suit when it reached testing. And it was only used for the menial tasks Gyro originally designed it for, as Fenton was the only one who had come up with the idea to use it for Gizmoduck at all, and he’s not there anymore, not that Gyro would listen to him anyway. Though it wasn’t as if Scrooge was in any state of mind to be hiring any superheroes in the first place. So Fenton continues trying to find some way to make a difference in the world with his intelligence but it... never really pans out.

Drake gets the role in the Darkwing movie, as in canon, as Scrooge is still interested enough in money to listen to the proposition for the film and try it out. The visit Launchpad has with Jim goes as his visits always do, and the fact that Dewey isn’t there to assist with Launchpad and attract Jim’s attention means Jim just gives up and leaves as soon as Launchpad faints, not even listening to what Drake is trying to tell him. So Jim never finds out about the movie until it’s already released, and Drake experiences no opposition in the filming, barely even remembering his one interaction with Launchpad at all. Scrooge cuts the budget for the finale but lets the movie go through anyway, despite his better judgement, mostly because he already spent the money. It’s a commercial and critical disaster and Drake’s acting career never gets off the ground, and he never has the inspiration to become Darkwing for real.

Donald continues to live just as we see him in the first episode, doing his best to support his kids while bouncing from job to job because he just can’t hold one down for any length of time. Life is hard for him but it’s the same as he’s always known it for the past ten years so he’s used to it, and having the kids with him is always enough for him.

Huey continues to make a name for himself in the Junior Woodchucks (i.e. robotics champion four years running) but he never really gets the chance to light the fire under his curiosity and love of knowledge. He learns as much as he can but it’s only as much as he’s ever been told he can. He learns within the boundaries of school and the Junior Woodchucks and that’s kind of enough for him because he never considers how much he could learn beyond the boundaries of how things have always worked. 

Dewey is as desperate to be famous and appreciated as he always is, and Dewey DewNight is most certainly still a thing, but it’s even less viewed and interesting than it is in canon. He’s not letting himself get disheartened but he looks at the way Donald lives on a boat and can’t hold a job and wonders if that’s what he’s gonna be someday. If despite all of his efforts and aspirations he’s going to end up falling at every turn and there’ll just be nothing he can dew about it. He doesn’t let it weigh him down too much but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t keep him up at night sometimes.

Louie is actually doing amazing. He’s living his best life. He’s lazy and scheme-y, still doing things like plotting that venture to Cape Suzette we see in that first episode, but he never has to wonder about his usefulness or place in the family, cause it’s just him, Dewey, and Huey, along with Donald. Donald is unemployed half the time, Huey is gonna be some big genius scientist guy sure, and maybe Dewey’s gonna get big someday but right now they’re just kids, and there’s absolutely nothing that makes Louie feel like that’s not enough. He doesn’t do as much here, there’s not any schemes that will make him rich or any Louie Inc, but the seeds of those ideas are still in his soul somewhere, he’ll find them when he needs them he’s pretty sure.

And that’s all the characters that I can think of to get into off the top of my head. I really just did this for fun so I don’t know if I’ll ever be doing anything else with it but these are all the ideas I got. Feel free to ask me about them or anything I’m just havin fun with it.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (TW: language)

Words: ~3K

Summary: Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

Set mid SUF.

I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to write Lars’ POV before this, but it was really fun! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Besides the quiet lull of the TV and the electric hum of the attic’s rickety old heater, all is silent in the Barriga household. The nighttime streets outside are vacant. Not a soul roams through his section of town, not even the newer Gem arrivals, who thankfully have been informed of humanity’s biologically mandated curfew by now. Sheesh, it’s about time.

After all, silence is peace. And in this day and age, in a world where the barriers between human and intergalactic politics are becoming increasingly blurred by the hour, peace is a gift.

Which is why having free time to play whatever old video games he wants in complete and total solitude at one AM is probably the single thing keeping him sane at this moment.

Lars’ fingers expertly flick at the joysticks of the controller as if by innate memory. It genuinely feels like forever since he’s been able to lose himself for hours in a solo campaign like this, and quite honestly, if given a choice he prefers it to any other leisurely activity. Chatting with his online friends or with that Gem gang of his is fun, sure, and working the counter at his bake shop can often be emotionally satisfying, but pushed too long and any kind of social interaction feels draining. He shifts on his bed, paying little to no attention to the slight chill against his bare chest. He’s pretty sure it’s like, near freezing outside and yet somehow it’s no more an annoyance to him than having to pause to reload an ammo clip in this game. It’s weird. Really weird. But then, at this point everything about his dumb life is.

It’s the Steven effect, he thinks with a soft scoff. Weird practically orbits him and his moms, and inevitably, every person he comes in contact with is brought into the fold. He’s a good kid, though. Don’t get him wrong. Steven always tries his best to be thoughtful when dealing with people he doesn’t understand— even when initially those people just act like dicks in return— and he for one is grateful for that, for the gift of a... a second chance. He knows full well he didn’t deserve it, (he still doesn’t), but he’s grateful.

The kid’s still on his mind when his phone lights up on the nightstand beside him, like the now familiar glow of Gems synchronizing to fuse.

(And goddamnit, does a part of him still balk almost two years later that it’s so normal to be casually relating everyday things to outer space Gem stuff anyways. What is he, with his pink hair and alien friends, the main character of an anime?)

Eyes skirt away from the grainy television set he’s been playing his favorite Immortal Combat on, and glance at the new notification.

Steven, the name at the top of the text reads. Well, lo and behold. The true shounen protagonist himself. Somebody’s ears must have been burning. Though, hmm. Come to think of it, that’s actually unusual. They pass bullshit memes back and forth sometimes, yes, but he never sends him anything this late at night.

Lars frowns, failing to obscure that annoying, instinctual worry that seizes him like the long lost sensation of hunger rising from the pit of his stomach, and scoots forward on his bed to grab his phone. What’s he want at this hour, anyways?

Steven: hey, sorry i know its late but can i come over ?

His frown deepens as he glances down at himself, clad in only a pair of boxers. He doesn’t mind having an unexpected visitor— after all, it’s not like he requires sleep anymore— but he’s not exactly dressed for company, here.

yeah but gimme a mo, he types back. kinda need to put on a shirt

Steven: k

Yawning out of sheer habit, he leans over the other side of the bed and grabs the first decent smelling tee he can find off the floor. It’s got an overlapping triangular emblem on it, a symbol from one of the game series he used to be obsessed with as a kid. He quickly shrugs it and a stray pair of sweatpants on, then returns to his phone.

decent now, he updates him.

The response is almost immediate.

Steven: be there soon

With a heavy inhale, he leans back against the headboard and begins to mentally prepare himself for the passage of One Whole Teenage Boy through the portal in his hair. For the most part he’s grown used to the changes caused by Steven’s literal magic resurrection, but not this. Who the hell knows how his pet lion puts up with it all the time. Quite frankly, how that creature has remained so docile and patient after years of interloping within Steven’s chaotic world of Gems eludes him, ‘cause it sure as hell isn’t a side effect of all the death-defying space voodoo.

Also, he’s like, 97% sure that “docile” and “patient” aren’t words anyone would pick to describe him at any stage of his life, ever.

And yet, yawning in his boredom, Lars waits.

And he waits.

And he waits.

And when eventually he breaks his stubborn streak and dares to check the time on his phone to see how many minutes have elapsed, how many minutes of his thrice-damned maybe infinite lifespan he’s wasted sitting up against the far wall of his room waiting for that kid to tumble right out of the literal inter-dimensional door hidden amidst the curls atop his head, he’s mildly surprised that his first emotional response to this delay is... dare he admits... disappointment.

It’s been nearly fifteen minutes. For whatever unknown reason, it seems as if Steven may not be coming over after all. Huh. He wonders what changed his mind. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lars decides to check his texts. It’s possible the guy wrote something else and he just didn’t see it. But when he pulls up his latest conversation, all that comes up are the last messages they sent to each other. Be there soon, he said.

He hovers hesitant fingers over the keyboard, caught in the midst of trying to decide whether or not it’s too invasive and prying to send some sort of casual check-in, when he picks up on a very timid knock on the front door downstairs. And given the lateness of the hour, there’s really only one person it could be. He blinks for a moment, his mind still doing somersaults in order to process the mere concept of Steven not gleefully taking the opportunity to explode out of his hair for once in his life, and then drags himself up to his feet. Walks out of his attic room and down the stairs, being careful not to disturb his slumbering parents. Unlatches the locks on the door.

Truth be told he has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him at one fucking AM to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

He struggles not to stumble backwards at the initial force of the teen’s silent yet yearning embrace, eventually regaining his stability and... slowly, delicately... hugging him back. Honestly, he’s never been much of a hugger himself, but eh. He’ll give the guy this one. After a brief moment Lars gives him a few awkward pats, clearing his throat.

“Uh, Steven? You good to let go, now?” he asks quietly, still keeping his voice in a whisper for his parents’ benefit.

“Oh! Y-yeah, yeah,” his younger friend stammers, immediately pulling himself away. His eyes are drawn to the floor as he wrings his hands together. Timid. “Sorry, I just— I just needed somewhere I could clear my head tonight. Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem,” he throws back, gesturing for him to follow up the stairs. “‘S not like I ever sleep a wink now anyways. So I might as well have company.”

The two of them tiptoe towards the attic, a familiar setting for both. Steven’s been in here quite a few times before, so— already knowing the lay of the land— he plops himself down in the beanbag chair Lars keeps at the foot of his bed. They don’t talk about much of anything at first, merely passing back and forth brief updates about their lives. Small talk, nothing more. As expected though, Steven’s update is infinitely more interesting than his. Apparently he went on some mission to an alien planet with that Lapis friend of his the other day and had to deal with the attitude of some stubborn terraformers who didn’t want to stop working on their shitty old Homeworld assignment. (Meanwhile, the only update he has to offer is how he’s teaching Blue Lace Agate the art of bad baking puns while at work. Gotta leave behind some sort of legacy before he leaves with his fellow Off-Colors, of course.)

When the small talk finally dries up, (which seems... uncharacteristic, given the typical enthusiasm of his current visitor), Lars offers him a second controller.

“We can play the go-kart one, if you want,” he says, knowing full well that his friend isn’t a huge fan of all his war-themed combat games. Still, he figures the guy could probably stand to blow off a little steam. He looks super stressed, with his brow all creased and his stare unnervingly glassy.

The sixteen-year-old nods, adjusting his hands around the grips of the controller as Lars switches out the disk.

They race a few rounds in relative quiet, wholly insulated by the reassuring stillness of the night all around them, before Steven decides to open up again.

“Where do you think the line is?” he asks when they finish their current course.

His whole face scrunches in confusion. “Huh?”

“Between like, doing bad things, and outright being bad?” he continues, seemingly unaware of the comedic pulse of Lars’ initial response.

Lars blinks.

Considers these words deeply and thoroughly for a moment, as any good friend should.

And then...

“Where the heck did you pull that question from?”

Steven merely shrugs, his shoulders drooping a bit lower than they had been when he first entered his house a while back. “I dunno, just musing, ‘s all.”

The edges of his mouth curl downwards as he lets this corker of a conversation starter wash over him, not so much intended as a frown at Steven, but a frown at... whatever force of this universe would lead his friend to start musing about such depressing philosophical quandaries in the first place. Acting numb and brooding at the rest of the world is supposed to be his job, not this kid’s! And sure, yes, yes, yes, he knows he can’t exactly call him a kid anymore— at least not to his face— and that he’s been a teenager for a good three years now. It’s just that... well. For all his complaints about it earlier in life, Lars kinda grew to respect and feel uplifted by his cheery, upbeat, never-give-up-hope outlook. Dare he says, he kinda misses it.

(And for Steven’s sake, he kinda hoped he’d never discover the burnout and cynicism waiting on the other side. Alas, he fears that ship has probably sailed.)

“Sorry,” the sixteen-year-old mumbles upon noting his extended silence, his cheeks flushed with shame. “Probably not something anyone wants to think about at two in the morning. Just- forget I said anything, okay? Let’s play one more round, and then I can lea—“

Eyes widening, he holds up a hand to intercept that train of thought. “No, that’s— you asked an interesting question. Deep, but interesting. It’s fine, I don’t mind. I...”

He inhales deep, collecting his wits and whatever years of wisdom he may or may not have accumulated ever since dying and coming back to life.

“I suppose in my mind, people aren’t truly bad unless they intend to cause harm, y’know?” he begins, meeting Steven’s eyes. “You can still hurt others without meaning it, and like... that’s still not great, and you should still try and make up for it however you can, but... life’s complicated. People are complicated. It’s all a huge mess of emotions and ethics and beliefs all the time.”

He pauses, a twinge of melancholy rising within his chest as he catches a glimpse of a photograph hung on one of the wooden support beams at the far wall. It’s a selfie of him and Sadie he printed out a few years back when they were still low-key dating, one that— for the life of him— he can’t bear to take down. She’s kissing his cheek. He’s caught in the middle of laughter, playfully trying to nudge her away. They look... so young.

So naive.

(So human.)

“And sometimes it can be so, so easy to convince yourself that you’re always in the right,” he continues, quieter, “that people feeling hurt because of something you did is just their problem. In that case, it’s not that you wanted to harm anyone, it’s just... that you were blind to it, I guess.”

(And he was blind for a long, long time.)

“Like I said, it’s messy.”

Lars sighs, willfully averting his glance from the photographic reminder of all the ways he ignorantly fucked up with Sadie as a friend and partner, and with everyone in his life, making the same stupid mistakes over and over with nearly no improvement until he literally died to his old self.

“So, yeah. There. I guess that’s my opinion,” he mumbles, absentmindedly fiddling with the collar of his graphic tee. “Everyone makes bad choices sometimes, but you’re not actually a bad person unless you literally want to harm others. I don’t think people are bad once and bad forever, though,” he adds, pulling his hand away from his shirt.

Inhaling deep, he splays his palm wide, admiring those same old loops and whorls at the tips of his fingers, identical in every detail to his old, living, human self... but now pink. It's haunting, sometimes.

“People can change, y’know? If they make the effort to.”

When he finally glances back at Steven, he seems thoroughly spaced out by all his impassioned rambling, his gaze walleyed and void of any identifiable emotion. He scowls, unsure whether or not he should feel offended, and gives an exaggerated shrug to defuse the sickeningly earnest atmosphere out of this room.

“But hey, I’m biased,” he mutters, letting that instinctual, age-old self-depreciation coat his tone once more. “For all I know, everything I said could be absolute bunk, and I’m still just an asshole.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole, Lars,” Steven finally speaks up, his expression still perplexingly unreadable.

“I—“ His eyes blow wider, the sheer frankness of this comment catching him entirely off guard, overturning all of his once-impenetrable defenses. “...Thank you. I’m trying not to be.”

The conversation doesn’t advance any further from there, both parties content to fade back into the understated comfort of silent companionship. They play a few more rounds of their racing game, Lars beating Steven handily each time. (Truth be told, he’s not confident he’s bringing his A-game, though.) Then, sometime around three AM, his friend drags himself out of the beanbag chair and announces that he should probably head home and get some rest. Apparently he’s got a lot of planning to do for Little Homeschool's graduation ceremony that’s happening in a few days, or whatever. Which, is fair. Not everyone is blessed enough to be a sleepless zombie like him.

“Y’know, it’s been nice, getting to hang out, just us,” Steven says— quiet, but genuine— as Lars leads him back down the stairs. “We should do this more often.”

Purposefully, given the unusual emotional atmosphere of this whole visit, he decides not to mention the fact that he's planning to leave Earth again when his all Gem friends finally graduate. Later, he thinks, when everyone's in a better place.

“Well, if you’re ever bored, you know where to reach me,” he replies as they reach the bottom step, fondly rolling his eyes. “The good ol’ inter-hair-mensional express. Just, y’know— text me. And not during work hours.”

The teen gives his thanks once again, and then exits out the front, making sure to be extra gentle shutting the door on his way out for his parents’ sake. Huh. Seems that even when he’s (seemingly) in a funk, he’s capable of being uber courteous like that. Goodness, how does he do it?

Lars stands motionless at the entryway for a few moments after he’s gone, staring blankly at the now empty space the sixteen-year-old just occupied. His brow furrows, his fingers curling in perplexion at his side. He doesn’t have enough insight into Steven’s inner life to claim anything for sure, but he can’t help but feel like something with that boy was... off, tonight. Like, beyond your standard teenage moodiness. His demeanor, his bizarre and specific question, his relative silence... it all seems to be pointing towards something, lurking in the background. Still, there’s little he can do for a person who’s not volunteering information. And it ain’t his job to drag it out of him, either. He always hated when his parents tried to do that when he was younger, and it almost ruined their relationship entirely. That’s the last sorta scenario he’d want to force upon Steven. He’ll open up when he’s ready, in the end.

And until then... well.

He just hopes that the kid knows that— beyond the bizarre magic portal in that pink lion’s mane— he’s always got a brother on the other side who’s willing to at least listen. To be but a small source of support.

If he wants him to be.

[willowkeyes-creates]

Maybe Not A Hero, But Still A Side

Warnings: Swearing, self-deprecation, near-death sorta?, Remus making an innuendo Set after Redux.

@hufflepuff-deceit ------------------------------------------------------------ Roman

I’ve been losing my touch for years now; it shouldn’t hurt this much to know that Thomas has finally figured it out. I’m not his hero. I was once, back when we began making short videos on Vine, maybe again when that failed and we stuck to YouTube… But I’ve just been lying to everyone for ages now.

I’m no Prince.

I’m not good.

There’s… little difference between Remus and I if you look close enough.

I’m no one’s hero. 

With a heavy sigh that fails to dislodge the lump in my throat, I collapse against the soft grass of the Imagination and let the cold rain wash over me. The cliff I’ve decided to sit on has a view over the ocean that, before all of this, I would love to just stare at and take it in for an hour or two. I’ve been in here for a week, maybe two if I’ve paid less attention then I think I have, but I can’t bring myself to show my face to anyone yet. Or, I can’t bring myself to look at the others and not feel so much that my chest wants to explode with emotions I can’t control.

Anger, frustration, confusion, betrayal, guilt- there’s so much guilt. So much for so many things that I don’t know what to do with it. Hiding it away and pretending that it doesn’t exist doesn’t help anymore. Lying doesn’t help me anymore.

Maybe Dece-... Maybe Janus knows me better than I thought. Maybe he should be one of the Light Sides; a Side that helps Thomas with his issues. Because he’s been doing a better job than I have. I just stood there as Patton hurt Thomas! I let him tell me what I should be doing- I let him tell me to go to that stupid, fucking wedding instead of what could have been the best opportunity of Thomas’ life!

My hands tangle themselves in my hair as I scream at the rain. As I scream at Patton, at Deceit, Janus, Patton- at Thomas. Myself. Everything and everyone. I just scream until something starts to hurt, then scream some more. I just want all of this to go away.

Instead, I scream until I’m too tired to scream anymore. I just lay an arm lengths away from the edge of a cliff, stare at what I guess to be a nice sunset, and just… do nothing. I don’t want to do anything anymore. I’m so tired. So sore. Thomas can last a while without me; and even more if Remus decides to take the spotlight now that I’m not around.

I should get out of the rain though; it’s starting to get really heavy. With a grunt of effort, I haul myself to my feet and throw my hoodie on despite every part of me being drenched already. My first step causes something below me to crack and I freeze to hear a second and third to follow suit. I frown down at my feet as I take another step, only for it to slip against something and send me back onto my back with a heavy thump. And a loud crack.

There’s a second of weightlessness as the ground falls out from beneath me. The sky seems to get so far away from me so quickly, with my hand reaching out as if a cloud will catch me as I fall. But what is now the edge of the cliff passes by me, I shut my eyes tight and wait for the pain of hitting the crashing waves below. For the possible breaking of my bones, for the head trauma, for the relief of not having to think while I’m unconscious-

Something wraps around my wrist and every part of me screams at me to hold onto it. Both hands grab onto the… arm of whoever caught me.

“Seriously!? I thought I was the crazy twin!” My eyes shoot open at the all-too-familiar voice to see Remus smiling down at me. It’s… a relieved smile, for some reason. 

Then I see what’s behind him. Remus is nowhere near the edge of the cliff and has both of his legs being held onto with a hand each, while two other hands hold the three of us up. Out of all the Sides to have come here, I didn’t expect these two.

“Ro. Hey.” With a couple of blinks I focus back on Remus’ face, while the lump that was once in my chest now sits up in my throat. He needs to stop looking at me like that. They’re both looking at me... “You alright there?”

“I-... N-No.”

“Remus, I don’t believe you know this, but the three of us are hanging off a cliff right now. Of course he’s not bloody alright!”

“Okay, okay! You gonna pull us up then, or what!?” 

One moment I’m watching the two argue as my legs dangle over the dangerous ocean, the next I’m back on solid ground and I can feel tears building up as I realise what just happened. They rescued me. They’re heroes…

“Roman?” Remus’ voice is too soft, too filled with worry over such a useless Side. In a world of my own creation, where I rule, I still can’t be anyone’s hero because I’m too busy needing saving myself. I was saved by those I called villains. “Fuck- Jan, he’s crying! Did he hit his head?”

I shake my head and curl my legs up to my chest; the lump in my throat now painful and starving me of air. It’s all too much. Everything is so much while I can do so little. Like an ant in a rainstorm without shelter. Like a mortal trading places with Atlas to hold up the sky. Like a stupid Prince who’s been thinking so much of himself, when he actually just insults others and makes everything worse!

So when I feel fingers in my hair, I push them away only for arms to wrap around me and hold me close to someone’s chest. Even as I keep struggling, two more sets of arms wrap around me and feel so warm against how damp and cold my skin is. I feel fingers in my hair again- gloved fingers. With another gloved hand holding my own and rubbing their thumb across the back of my hand.

“Ro? You sane now?” I attempt to swallow the suffocating lump, but fail as it feels even bigger than before. What am I supposed to say? I am sane- I always have been sane. I’m just no longer blind.

“... I guess so…”

“Good, ‘cause I gotta tell you off for scaring me. Do you know how hard that is to do? You big-headed… butt-head.”

“Not the time for insults...” I guess the extra arms are coming from Janus. He shouldn’t be comforting me; not after what I said. Not after I hurt him after he showed us something so… terrifying… And I fucked it up. I destroyed so much with so few words. 

“So, you gonna thrash around again? I can let go if you want. I doubt I smell like roses and honey or whatever...” A set of arms goes to release me and in that moment, I decide to be selfish and quickly grab hold of them. Then move to grab hold of him. Both of them. And I just cry. 

“I-I’m sorry… For your name, and ignoring you, and calling you villains, a-and threatening you- I threatened you so much… Fuck…” I can smell them both and it’s such a weird scent, even more so with the scent of rain mixed with them. There’s honey and lavender, but also Thomas’ deodorant and something close to when Patton forgets to put the lid of the trash bin back on. It’s gross, but comforting.

I shouldn’t be comforted. 

“Roman, it’s-”

“No!” I pull back to see them both, again hating the look in their eyes. Janus’ heterochromatic ones and the bright red ones of my brother, both looking at me with looks like so much worry. “Stop looking at me like that! I don’t deserve it! Or this! Or to be saved-”

“Stop it, Roman-” I swat the reaching gloved hand away and fall backwards, out of their arms, before digging my palms into my eyes to see the dancing spots instead of seeing the kindness I don’t deserve. 

“I screwed up so much! I ignored you, Em! I pretended that you didn’t exist! What so-called ‘good guy’ ignores his own twin!? None! Because I’m not fucking good! I never was! I’ve never been a hero!”

“Roman!” “And I knew that your name was important to you, Dec- Janus! God, I don’t deserve to call you by your name! I laughed! I… I fucking laughed! After you saved Thomas, while I just made shit worse! I made fun of it!”

“And I compared you to Remus while you were in a vulnerable state- Stop apologising and look at us!” 

It’s something in the way Janus says it, it could be how his ‘s’ are starting to be held longer or the actual desperation from him that I’ve never heard before, but I take my hands away from my eyes and look up at them. 

Remus is grinning brightly and without any of his usual craziness behind it. He looks happy as he stretches his arms out towards me- now making grabby hands at me as if he wants a hug from me. It’s… weird to see him so happy. Is he usually straining his smile? Or this is a different kind of happy then when he pops up to give one of us a fright?

Janus has a soft smile on his face as he fixes the hat atop his head with one of his six arms. He holds another hand out and motions me to come to them. “We both said some harsh things; and I sincerely apologise for hurting you after so much had happened to you and Thomas. And we’ll talk this through- but later. You look exhausted, Roman…”

“So come here, hug us, and let me carry you to our side of the Mindscape for some microwaved leftovers so that we can be best bros for two minutes before you regret saying that mushy shit to me.” 

The lump in my throat doesn’t hurt as much- but is still very much there. We do have a lot to talk through, but I am also so tired. And cold. And I nearly just fell into bone-shattering waves. Remus’ open arms and Janus’ inviting look warms something inside me and pushes me into my brother's arms. He holds on tightly with fistfulls of my shirt, as if I’ll disappear. I did this to him… I made him scared that I would leave him again.

“No, Rem…” I have to fix this. I have to become better, instead of sulking away in my Imagination. Doing nothing, solves nothing. If I want to be a hero, I have to work for it again. From the bottom up. Which starts with Remus. “More than two minutes…”

“Sixty-nine minutes?” 

“Sixty-nine years sounds better. Especially with an infinity on the end.”

“Sixty-nine infinities? What legendary stamina…”

“You’re gross and insane.” Yet I only hold onto him tighter. His hugs have always felt like I’m not missing a part of myself, as if everything will be okay and nothing will be bad again. It’s a huge lie, but no one else’s hugs can make me feel this kind of safe. 

“Come on. I love standing in drenched clothing and I totally don’t want Roman to try the lasagne that we made yesterday.” Holy crap. The leftovers is lasagne!? 

“Oooh! You’ll love it, Ro! The cheese on top is scrunchy, like an exo-skeleton.” Too tired to get grossed out at that rather terrifying image, I just give him a hum to make him know that I heard as he picks me up without issue. Now he just smells like strong deodorant with a hint of trashiness; which is dealable enough to get comfortable against him. 

“You better not be sleeping. You know how I wake people up.”

“With a scream two inches from their face?”

“I was gonna put slime in your shirt- but that works too! Maybe with some blood…”

“Fake blood please, Remus.” I open my eyes and catch Janus’ gaze for a moment. He gives me another smile before bapping the back of Remus’ head since he was making his nose drip blood. “I wasn’t lying! Clean that up before we enter the Mindscape or you’ll stain the carpets again!”

“Those carpets are already stained from last week!”

“I will hide your copy of Betelgeuse! In my room no less- don’t test me!”

Closing my eyes once more, I hear a raspberry from Remus before they start bantering again. A few days on their side of the Mindscape will do me good. With my deranged yet caring brother and… the attractive-looking, snake man that may have just turned my school yard crush on him into a full on I’m-gay-for-you. We’ll have to talk first, and I have to get some flowers to apologise properly with, but maybe one day I’ll ask him out. Leftover lasagne dinner with him and my brother sounds like a good start.

[queensdivas]

Peonies Chapter 7

I really don’t have much to say before I post. I’m tired and I don’t feel quite well so if it’s a little bad then I’m so sorry! 

Please enjoy and I’ll see y’all later! 

Previous Chapter 

Masterlist 

Perhaps I was too harsh. I mean. Though war is inevitable and will indeed cost a lot of lives. I think that I was a little cruel to Catherine and her ideals. She’s very inexperienced when it comes to this life and haven’t had the world of war drilled into her head like my family. I just want to go back to the Palace so Grigor and I can eat dinner then crawl into bed. Never would’ve thought that I would be enjoying someone's company this much in such a small amount of time.

The carriage turned down onto the main path for Catherine to begin gathering herself with her anger much more in control. Elizabeth was smiling as she was looking at the palace through the carriage window.

“Ah. Home sweet home.” She kept that weird smile on her face as I was fixing my cape.

“You’re not a joyful person are you Chiara?” Elizabeth blurted which made my eyes widened a little.

“I am on most occasions. Just today was an exception.”

“You were harsh on the field. A little compassion can go a long way Chiara.” Sorry that I don’t open my legs to ever walking being that foot in my general direction. Maybe if you focused more on your head and reality instead of that stinky fishy thing between your own legs then the world might shine brighter. Is what I would like to say.

“Elizabeth you know absolutely nothing about who I am. Nothing. Zilch! Get off that high horse you enjoy riding so damn much to have a much better reality of the world.” This whore of a woman who spends her time teaching butterflies has no right to pass judgement onto me and my own personal views. The carriage stopped for me to practically kick open the door for myself to climb out.

“Don’t mind her Aunt Elizabeth. She does have compassion under that skin, just knows when and when not to use it in her standards.” Listening to the last of Catherine for me to start walking up the stairwell. Stupid women whose hair looks like some sort of mushroom.

Where is Grigor? I need to see Grigor.

Fucking stupid royal air heads. Let’s go pass out macarons to make the soldiers feel better for fighting for a fucking cause that doesn’t even matter! Egotistical bastardo! We need to pick up the pace on putting Catherine at the top of the food chain for this country. This War if not done properly will end in the Swedish favor and they will lose St. Petersburg, then Moscow, and goodbye to the Russian Empire. I will not be around to watch the fall. I grab Catherine, Leo for her own pleasure, Marial because I enjoy her temper, Orlo due to his vast knowledge, and Grigor for the obvious reasons.

This is becoming far too stressful for my taste at the moment. Shaking my head to make it to the apartment section of the palace to hurry my pace a little more. Leo was walking out of Catherines room with a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He smiled at me to start walking towards him. I feel like a herd of Wildebeest at the moment and I might run over Leo if he doesn’t move.

“Oh dear Duchess you look rather annoyed. A drink perhaps?” Halting directly past him to take a few steps backwards. Catherine had mentioned that his drinks are quite relaxing with the different flavors.

“What have you got?” It better be something delicious that’ll calm my nerves.

“Peach vodka.” Never had it but it sounds ravishing. Nodding for us to enter Catherines apartment to sit down at the living room for me to sit next to the fire. Leo poured me a drink to hand me the glass as I took a sip.

“God that’s strong.” I could feel my chest exploding. It’s delicious but damn is that strong. Taking another sip for him to sit across from me.

“Vodka is made from Russian tears so it’s going to make you feel some sort of emotion.” How very...Russian I think.

“How was the front lines?” Leo asked as he got comfortable in his chair.

“Oh the usual Leo. Blood, horse shit, and so bleek. Get ready for a long discussion with Catherine if you talk politics with one another.” Taking another sip for the drink to start making my cheeks feel warm. It’s absolutely delicious and I definitely want some more of this delicious vodka. I wonder if oranges would be good to mix with vodka.

“Have you thought about mixing citrus with vodka?” His eyes widened a little bit at the thought of it.

“Chiara that would be absolutely delicious. It would create such a punching taste to the body that I’m afraid it would knock you down on your ass. Genius.” He was looking at the glass for me to wonder. He’s a lover, and I’m new to this game so I can finally ask him a very important question.

“Leo tell me something. What do you even gain as a lover?” It’s out of the blue yes since he wasn’t expecting me to ask this kind of question. But from one lover to another I get the feeling he can give me advice on to handle these feelings.

“I get to witness the true Catherine. Not just in physical appearance I get to know her. I get the chance to pick apart her mind, challenge her, and understand the true nature of mind and soul. Being a lover is much more about the love making part of it Chiara.” Holding the glass close to me as I crossed my left leg over my right.

“Is it worth it?” He doesn’t even know what Catherine is doing. She’s plotting to overthrow the current Government and he has absolutely no clue. So much for seeing her true colors, but then again he could be a spy. Yet like Marial said, far too handsome.

“Yes. Every moment I’ve spent with her. She shakes my core in some way that I felt impossible. I’ve fallen for this extraordinary woman who I get this strong feeling that she also loves me.” Sighing st his comment to start thinking on my interest in Grigor. Do I love him? Is this just lust? I haven’t yearned like this before and it feels foreign in my life. I may not be in love quite yet but possibly in the future perhaps?

“You’ve must’ve seen parts of Grigor that even his own wife hasn’t seen. Though they’ve been married for a little longer than Peter and Catherine, Grigor must’ve shown you a side of him that they don’t even know.” His artwork? I imagine his wife has seen it just prefers not to deal or acknowledge it at the end of the day.

“I think so. I’m not quite sure or used to what’s going on here. This wasn’t even why I came here in the first place. The goal wasn’t to find a lover. This achievement was meant to help Catherine deal with the horrid beginning and adjustment to royal life.” Drinking the rest of the vodka for me to place the glass down.

“She told you that Peter punched her in her stomach right? After he shot her bear and burned down her school.” Leo nodded at my comment to take another drink.

“How could anyone handle that? I would’ve just killed him on the spot if he ever laid a hand on me in such a manor. It doesn’t matter anyhow. Excuse me for rambling Leo.” He grabbed the glass bottle to fill up my drink.

“Be gentle with Grigor. From what I’ve gathered and what Catherine has told, his wife and the Emperor just ride over him.” I mean. In bed I know exactly how he likes it. But I am getting better with my anger when it comes to things. It’s mostly just a culture shock into things and that I swear.

“Speaking of the devil. I’d like to forget the horrors that I saw today for a few moments. Have you seen him?”

“I think he was in his apartment.” Nodding for me to get up from the chair and smiling at him.

“Thank you. And thanks for the drink, send a bottle into my apartment if you don’t mind.” Grabbing the glass to start walking towards the door.

“Of course. One must enjoy some sweet libations to keep themselves sane.” He escorted me out as I stood in the doorway. He handed me a spare bottle to then look down the hall.

“It is such an..” He stopped mid sentence as I was assuming he was going to say something extremely naughty about Catherine to me.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t speak of your cousin in such a matter. Would make things rather awkward. Goodnight Chiara.”

“Goodnight Leo.” Smiling at him for the doors to close in front of me. Leo is definitely a nice chap who I get the feeling always keeps Catherine on her toes. In a goodway of course.

Either Grigor is in his apartment waiting for the word I’ve returned or in my room waiting for me in there. I miss his warmth, his smell of fire and pine which sort of surprises me after having loads of sex. I also have a theory that I’ve been working on that when I’m sleeping he’s secretly drawing me. Sometimes I wake up in the night to grab a drink of water to then hear his pencil being used right next to me! Just have to wake up and catch him off guard!

Taking another sip of my vodka to open the door into my apartment to only see Peter standing at the foot of my bed. I was sort of expecting him at some point due to my stunt on the frontlines. Slowly closing the door behind me as I walked over to the table to place down the vodka and glass.

“You think you’re fucking clever don’t you? Giving Velementov tactics on how to lead my own fucking army.” That was quick. Well he wasn’t doing a good job in the first place, someone had to step in and help.

“The answer to your question is yes Emperor Peter. I only gave him advice on what he should do in order to keep the Swedish back out of Russia. He had a choice on whether to follow or not follow my advice.” He stomped over to me and tried to look intimidating. He was not, in fact more like a spoiled child before my eyes.

“I should fucking beat you for what you’ve done! Don’t ever get in the influence of my army ever again you fucking bitch.” What an insult! I’M SHAKING IN MY BOOTS BECAUSE I’M SO INSULT AND THREATENED BY THIS CHILD!

“Well you have two options then don’t you Peter. If he takes my advice and wins then you have defeated the Swedish and can easily push them back to their own lands. I will be expecting a thank you and an apology for when that happens.” Leaning against the fireplace setting up my option two statement.

“My second option is to fucking beat you in open court and throw you out of my own country. Just because you’re a fucking Duchess doesn’t give you some sort of shield to protect me from you.” Well it does.

“If you say so. But I would hate for the rest of Europe to get involved with your self-esteem war against Sweden. For the record that’s what everyone thinks that this is nothing but a chance to fill in the shoes of your dead father.” Oh don’t worry I know what I’m saying. As long as I don’t bring up his dead mother.

“Like you could get the rest of those fuckers involved. They love me and they love Russia.” No one outside of Russia loves Russia. It’s a cold wasteland!

“This country is so backwards that they wouldn’t waste one singular soldier on your land! How blind are you? I’m the first person who's ever put you in your place?” Approaching him with my hands crossed over my chest.

“Shut up you bitch.” Again. What an insult!

“Did your mother or father never discipline you? Your long list of nannies teach you any manners? Did they always give you what you want!?” His entire body from what I could see was turning dark red. Almost darker than a sweet cherry. Peter decided to come into my room and chose violence against me! I’m just defending myself from the toddler before me!

“God I should’ve known you were a spoiled brat when Catherine told me you punched her because she was angry!” Laughing at him to pick up my glass to take a long drink.

“She slapped me!” Throwing it in the fire out of the rage that was forming inside of me.

“When you killed her bear that you gave to for her wedding present!”

“I told her I was sorry!”

“Oh and you actually meant it? Face it Peter you’re a spoiled adolescent who has no idea what he’s doing!” He was about to scream bloody murder. He looked over to see my trunk full of swords. Dear God is he going to try and fight me! He ran over to grab one of my swords and hold it up to me. Grabbing my boot dagger as I waited for him to do something.

“With all your swords I imagine you can’t even fight properly!” Bold of him to assume! Wait! Running over behind the vanity to grab the Scimitar I had hiding behind the vanity! I’m aware this is used for cavalry units but I can definitely make this work! Unsheathing it to put the dagger back in my boot.

“I will not hold back because you’re a female!” Swinging my sword around me waiting for him to move.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Raising my eyebrow as I began circling one another.

Peter's first charge was sloppy for me to block his attacks and kick him onto the love seat. I plan on playing defence the entire time to avoid any sort of bloodshed on my part. He’s the one attack as I’m the one blocking his horrible attacks. Pouncing up from the love seat to take off his long robe and act all “I’m ready to fight now!” stance and attitude.

“Fine. If you want me to fight you like a true man than you have brought it on yourself!” He screamed to try for a low strict on my legs. Jumping back to block his low attack!

“Going for the legs is a cheap shot sei un idiota!” Kicking him directly in his chest that almost knocked him over the love seat.

“Sei un cretino! Non hai assolutamente idea di cosa stai facendo, vero?” Lifting up the sword to place it in front of my face to clash our swords together.

“Please speak a language that I can understand!” Pushing him back for him pounce back up and start swinging.

There’s a reason why swordsmen are such wonderful dancers. We’re light on our toes and must keep a constant aware of our area. You hear the comparison of sword fighting and dancing constantly being compared with one another and it’s a rightful comparison.

My feet are as light as a bird flying through the sky, my eyes are entranced by the movement of my opponent who is sadly horrid at this dance. You feel the music with your arms on how fast and you strike and defend yourself from the opponent. It can be a waltz or even a harsh presto that leaves you wondering if you’ll even make it out alive.

Peter began throwing his sword down upon me as hard as I could to continue backing up from each blow he enforced. The problem with fighting in your room that you sometimes forget about the rest of the furniture in the room! Backing up to fall down onto the other love seat. He was about to throw his sword down for me to lift my legs, crossing them and wrapping them around his neck for me to start squeezing. I could easily snap his neck if I didn’t want the rest of Russia to witness his death! A child like Peter must be made to suffer in public for him to see what he hates the most be the last thing in his life. It’s fitting and it drives them mad!

“Women in trousers must scare you Peter!” Chuckling as he was trying to move my boot from his neck. Turning my boots for his head to face up towards the ceiling for my heel almost in his face.

“No being able to lift up ones dress in order to fuck must really irritate you!”

“I prefer women with absolutely no clothes.” Tightening my grip for his head to raise up, grabbing for as much air as he could.

“No wonder no man has the balls to marry you! You’re only good for love making! Not to mention your swordsmanship is weak so that just makes it more difficult doesn’t it!” BASTARDO!

“Tu bastardo! Non rinuncerò mai alla mia spada per qualche stupido anello e decreto!” He was confused till I sighed and had to remind myself that he doesn’t speak Italian.

“I shall never relinquish my sword for some dumb ring and decree!” Spitting at him for me to pull him down and punch him directly in the face in his. My legs launched him from my grip for him to stumble back. Popping back up and grabbed my sword from the ground. He was reaching for his but I kicked it away from him underneath the bed. Doesn’t hold the sword properly which allows me to practically throw it out of his hands.

“Not such a great Emperor who can’t even handle a simple combat.” Tilting my head a little with a coy smile displayed. The great thing of having a long blood line of Knights is that I am able to learn a vast amount of techniques.

“There’s something my Grandmother always told me because she once fought for the Holy Roman Empire. A woman must be highly skilled above a man in order for her to succeed. She rode into war on a monsterous red shirt that when she came back from battle it had turned into a completely different shade of red.” Peter gulped as I knelt down. Lowering my sword to place it directly underneath his chin.

“Never unsheath a weapon on me again. Is that understood? I could give a shit if you are an Emperor. If you were even the King of the world I would not care. Don’t ever draw a sword on me because I will win.” He was smiling? Wait a minute. My eyes trailed down to make OH MY GOD!

“What a woman you are! No wonder Grigor enjoys spending all over his time with you. God you just made my cock so fucking hard. I wish for you to sit down and ride me!” My eyes widened for him to slide out from under me and began undressing himself.

“Peter...you do know that we’re related now by marriage right?”

“Since when does that stop anyone? The fucking English sleep with their own cousins that are blood related.!” I think I’m going to throw up. I could feel my stomach beginning to mangle inside of me from even the thought!

The doors busted open for Grigor to smile but turn into shock at the sight he was witnessing before him. Peter and I both looked at him as I was waiting for Peter to say something. I could feel my blood rushing throughout my entire body all the way down to the tip of my toes from how anxious I just became. Obviously I have a sword in my hand so nothing was going to happen in the first place.

“Grigor. Control your fucking lover in the palace.” He barked at Grigor for him to grab his robe and stomped out of the room. Peter marched out for Grigor to shut the door immediately behind him. Putting my Scimitar back into the holding as I tossed it onto the love seat.

“Are you okay?” Grigor asked for the blood to keep increasing. The adrenaline is so much good!

“Oh I’m fine! That was a cake walk compared to other fights.” Telling him for him to cup my face and check for any fresh battle scars.

“Grigor I’m fine.” God the adrenaline! My entire stomach is filled with butterflies flying around, blood pumping through my entire body. At once I can feel the hand that I punched Peter with was beginning to hurt. It’s been a while since I’ve punched someone hard like I did with Peter. My other hand was rubbing it for Grigor to grab it and act as if he was some Doctor of some sorts.

“What happened?” He asked to squeeze a little too hard. I flinched a little for him to sigh and was beginning to over panic. Was Peter’s nose bleeding?

“I’ll call for some ice.” Rushing over to the bell to pull the string to alert whoever was available to bring me some ice.

“Did you see him bleeding by chance?”

“No it wasn’t.” Okay good.

“Wanna tell me what happened?” If I tell Grigor that I was going to kill The Emperor I’m not quite sure on how he would react. But if I make up a lie it would definitely lead to another bad reaction that feels uncontrollable. I am screwed no matter what route I decide to take in this situation!

“I uh…”

“You 're going to...sleep with Peter!?” No. No no no!

“Dear God no! Grigor I despise him more than you do!” He already took the thought he already had and was off. I could see Grigor's mind running at an alarming rate before me and I don’t think I can stop it!

“Grigor Grigor look at me.” Standing in front of him to place my hands on his cheeks to have him focus on me.

“Peter will never put his hands on me. I won’t let him.”

“Then why was he in here?” Maybe he won’t mind if I tell him? I mean to be fair Peter started the fight I just happened to finish before I actually sliced him up like a piece of meat.

“Because...Bec..” Removing my hands to face the fire for me to hold myself.

“Because he’s Emperor!”

I could feel my blood rushing, my heart pounding, and my breathing becoming short. He thinks he can just come into my life, sleep with my wife and the love of my life! No! Not anymore! I’m going to put a stop to this!

Storming out of Chiara’s room to start marching down the hall. There has to be some way of punishing him for everything! He can have George all he wants at this point but Chiara is crossing the line now!

How would I punish him? I can’t do anything bloody because that just leaves an absolute mess! Beating? I stopped myself halfway through the hallway to find a small room. A painter was on the floor working on something as I looked over at him and sighed.

“Fuck off.” Yelling at him for me to start circling the room. Can’t stab him, can’t beat him, can’t send a wild animal, and I can’t shoot him.

I..can’t..

Wait a minute. I looked down to see a small bowl and scrapper that had some paint on it. That..that might work. Grabbing the scrapper out of the bowl to walk out of the room. He’s sulking in his food at the moment due to the rejection of Chiara.

Hearing him eat to shove the scrapper up into my shirt a little more to see him feasting on Louis' food. Borscht. I can mix the paint into the borscht when he’s got his entire head turned away from me.

“Ah Grigor! Try this black bread with moose lips. Makes my cock hard like your wife and lover. How on earth you’ve managed to wrangle these women into your life is very impressive.” That vile smile he enjoys displaying that makes me want to shove this down his throat! He held up the plate for me to grab it and take a chunk out of it. Throwing it onto the empty plate in my seat to sit down.

“Fucking delicious.”

“There’s Louis’ famous borscht too.” I can scrape it off in there, mix it and would not be the wiser. But how do I distract him to put the paint in? Ummm. The pig!

“Remember when we shot that fucking pig?” Laughing for me to point at the pig head mounted on his wall. Peter turned around for me to shove the scrapper into the borscht to stir it around as fast as I could. Pulling the scrapper from the bowl to hide it back into the sleeve of my shirt.

“Great day!” He smiled for me to nod along with him. Watching Peter grab his bowl to begin pouring the borscht into it. Here he goes. Fucking suffer you worthless little man.

“You want some?”

“I’ve eaten.” Wouldn’t touch that dish in a mile.

“We should go play handball after this.” He offered for me to nod. I..I have to get him out of here so they don’t suspect the food if he comes ill.

“Let’s go now!” We have to go now! I jumped out of my seat for Peter to keep his bowl with him.

“Uh..maybe leave the food?”

“Louis’ borscht? Are you out of your fucking mind? Of course I’m bringing it!” Possibly but shit! Watching him walk out of Zeus right behind turned my blood from boiling range to thin ice in a matter of seconds.

I need to calm down! Grabbing the bottle of vodka to rip the cork off with my teeth then begin drinking it. I’m not having one of those reality moments where I question my actions because I’m perfectly aware of what I’m doing. I’m going to punish the fool that has tried to come after my love!

She’s more than my lover. Though our little time spent with one another it’s grown. Everytime I think about her my heart beats so fast I can feel it through my body. Her scent when she’s laying next to me in bed is intoxicating. For she has enchanted me with her words and actions that I may never get over.

When at night she’s asleep and I lay awake wondering through my empty mind. I take a few moments to begin sketching her so that she may stay with me my entire life. For she will be leaving one day, I would prefer it to act if she wasn’t leaving quite yet.

Chiara has overthrown and placed herself on the throne of where George once sat in my heart. I love her...though she doesn't love me, it is worth every moment I spend time with her.

Taglist: 

@mirkwoodshewolf @bonafiderocketqueen @johndeaconshands

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @amethyst-serenade @radio-ha-ha @i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @deck-heart @actuallyanita  @the-baby-bookworm @ewanmcgregors​ @panagiasikelia​ 

[clonecest-bin-account]

Sparring with surprise

Ship: Jesse/Wrecker

Rating: E

AO3 Link (plus uncensored art)

It seems weird coming from someone like Wrecker, but he isn’t much for sparring. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to fight, it’s just that it’s hard finding someone that can match him in hand-to-hand combat. This is the price to pay for being the strongest: every fight he gets into quickly becomes boring.

Then why did he accept Jesse’s proposition to spar? He has no idea, to be frank. It was just so weird and out of the blue that he had to, if anything to see what Jesse had in store with him - because he must have some sort of plan, he knows it.

He came to him and told him that he was going to the training room, asking him if he wanted to come with. If anything, Wrecker said yes so that he’d have a chance to wreck him. Ah! He’s so funny.

Even now that they’ve arrived, staring at each other from each side of the mat, Wrecker can’t shake the feeling that he’s planned something. Oh well, he certainly won’t discover what by staying still and just observe him. No, he needs to charge!

That’s exactly what he does, running at Jesse. At first he goes for a direct punch but Jesse dodges it, probably having seen it coming.

They continue like this for a while, with Wrecker trying to hit him and Jesse dodging out of the way; to Wrecker this feels more like he’s being studied rather than an actual fight.

… Aaaaah! He’s getting tired of this! He fakes a move to the left, prompting Jesse to move to the right. Perfect. Like that it’s easy to close his arms around Jesse’s waist, grappling him.

Now at least he’s going to call this whole charade off, or is he?

 Well you see, one moment Wrecker was holding Jesse, then the other he’s on the ground, with a lapful of a smirking Jesse looking down on him, elbow against his throat.

“I believe I win.”

Normally it would take Wrecker nothing to push him away, or better throw him away, or even just punch him, but he’s so stunned that he doesn’t move. How did he…

“I learned this trick from Rex,” Jesse admits, oozing smugness, “I just wanted to see if it worked.”

Oh, the absolute fucker.

 Something in Wrecker’s vein begins to boil, but it’s not out of anger like one would expect, more like something else entirely.

He still doesn’t react, gaze still drawn to Jesse, until the other trooper hops off of him and stretches a hand towards him, hand that he accepts, in order to help him up. Even then it’s like his whole mind has just exploded.

It’s not even the surprise of Jesse pulling that move what hits Wrecker the most, but how much he liked it.

Still, he doesn’t mention any of this, especially considering that they’re not alone in there; he still has a reputation to uphold. If Jesse notices anything, he doesn’t mention it, so Wrecker is led to believe that he truly hasn’t, or else he would be teasing him already about it.

 He’s wrong.

 He finds out how wrong he is exactly when he and Jesse meet up later, this time alone, for a “private meeting”.

They’ve already taken care of armors and blacks and are now lying on their side in Wrecker’s bunk - Jesse’s too small for the two of them - kissing and touching each other’s bodies. It’s nothing too heated up for now, more like tracing fingers along their muscles and soft - softer than usual - kisses. Even when you’re a battle-hardened soldier sometimes you’re overtaken by the unstoppable need of having something nice, okay?

Wrecker has just begun making his hands travel lower, exploring the expanse of Jesse’s strong legs, when the other lightly pushes him, letting him fall with his back to the mattress, and climbs on top of him. He has that tingle in his eyes that makes it obvious to Wrecker that he has something wicked in mind, something that they’re both going to like he bets.

For now Jesse doesn’t talk, at least not immediately, and he leans down, kissing Wrecker’s lips with eagerness.

“Mmh you liked it when I was on top of you before, didn’t you?” he mutters then between one kiss and another.

“Yes,” Wrecker can’t help but to moan.

“Do you want me like that?”

“Yes,” Wrecker repeats, more urgently now.

Jesse’s getting smugger as time passes, but this time he can’t blame him: he looks so hot like that in a way that Wrecker has never thought about before. He sure likes him when he’s under him, or pressed against the wall, or sandwiched between him and someone else, but this is on another level entirely: he can see all of Jesse like this, from his trained chest - that he goes to cup with his hands - to his arms, his hairy legs, his stomach and, most importantly, his already half-hard cock. He’s clearly not the only who’s liking this.

  He raises one hand to cup Jesse’s face, letting his thumb rest close to the angle of his mouth, and he can’t help a small huffed chuckle when Jesse sneaks his tongue to lick at it. With his free hand instead he takes Jesse’s cock, giving it a couple of strong tugs; Jesse’s body immediately tenses at the touch, and a shiver runs down his spine as he groans.

Encouraged by that reaction, Wrecker continues stroking him until he’s fully hard and leaking precum on his hand.

“Look at you,” he mutters appreciatively, “So pretty.”

He lowers one hand on his chest, going without any warning to squeeze his nipple, and the despite the pain and the loud “OW!” that leaves Jesse’s lips, he’s laughing.

“Stop that!” he says, but Wrecker goes back to jerking him off and any sign of resistance coming from Jesse suddenly vanishes.

As he watches him, Wrecker can feel himself getting hard as well. They need to do something about it, because Wrecker can’t wait to be inside Jesse’s little hole.

 He has to leave Jesse’s nipple to get the lube on the bedside, even though he didn’t want his hands to actually leave his body, but oh well he surely isn’t going to grab it with the Force - he wishes he could though, it would make things so much easier.

Once he gets the tube, however, he immediately begins to get his fingers wet but… Jesse grabs his hands, stopping him. Wrecker looks up at him; he thinks he knows what he wants to do, but the sane part of him tells him that it can’t be it. Surely Jesse isn’t so foolish to try to take him without preparation?

“Don’t need it,” Jesse says then, feeling like he had to specify it.

“Are you mad?” Wrecker can’t help but to ask, because this is something he’s never heard before. Jesse gives him a wicked smile.

“Maybe,” is all he says before snatching the lube out of Wrecker, beginning to apply it on Wrecker’s cock, spreading it with long strokes at make Wrecker bite his lips.

He should stop him, and yet he’s intrigued by the turn things are taking. At this point, let Jesse do as he pleases, if anything because if he gets hurt he can rat him out to everyone and he’ll be the clones’ laughingstock for a while. Serves him right.

Jesse raises his hips, lining himself over Wrecker’s cock, then slowly, ever so slowly, he lowers himself on it.

 This time, he expects the burn. It doesn’t hurt as much as the first time; maybe that’s because he’s taken good care stretching himself open every night while Wrecker was away for this exact reason, but of course that’s a secret that he’ll never reveal - or maybe he could do something with it? Maybe giving good old Wrecker a nice show.

Speaking of him, it looks like he’s enjoying the one he’s giving him now. He surely wasn’t expecting Jesse to take him so well without any prep; he had taken care of that already himself before going to Wrecker and ask him if he wanted to spar.

There isn’t really much to gain from this except the right to be smug about it, but it’s enough for Jesse. Considering how much Wrecker always manage to rock his world, for once he wants to do the same for him.

 It feels like hours pass before he gets to the base, but eventually he does it. Finally, he can catch his breath.

Normally Wrecker wouldn’t waste any time thrusting inside that delicious heat, but he’s still stunned by how good Jesse looks like this; seriously, they should’ve done this way earlier. For once he decides to give him so time, he deserves it after all he’s done.

Only once Jesse feels like he might be able to do it without his body giving out he raises his hips, slowly, only to come slamming down again. He repeats the motion immediately, impaling himself on Wrecker’s cock over and over again.

“You look surprised,” he manages to say to Wrecker, between a moan and a groan. He still hasn’t lost his cocky smile.

“You’re beautiful,” Wrecker blurts out, taking both Jesse and himself by surprise with that admission. Still, Jesse recovers quite quickly, damn him.

“Oh, Wrecker, Wrecker,” he says, “I know.”

 He rides with all the strength his has, ignoring the effort that this is costing his legs; he’ll rest later.

Wrecker’s stun doesn’t last forever, however, and once he feels himself close to the edge he finally decides to move, grabbing Jesse’s hips in order to stop him midair, and he begins to violently snaps his hips up and down, up and down, fucking into him chasing down his orgasm.

He’s the first one to come; with that view in front of him, how was he supposed not to? It’s like an explosion, and Jesse finds himself way fuller than when he began. After another couple of slams of hips, he finds himself coming as well, powerless to stop Wrecker as he keeps pushing and pushing and pushing… Until he gives out, finally stopping for the exhaustion.

 Jesse collapses on top of Wrecker. He’s tired and sticky and sweaty, a complete mess, but he still can’t help but to smile.

“That was good,” he says, still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah…” is all Wrecker is able to respond with. Not his most eloquent moment, but what else he’s supposed to say?

And to think that he was almost about to refuse Jesse’s offer to spar together. That would’ve been the greatest mistake of his life, that’s for sure.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 54

“Hey! Kid!” Ellie warily turned. She was only slightly less wary at the identity of the person calling for her.

“Hey Wade,” she said cautiously as the costumed man bounded up towards her like an overgrown puppy.

Her first official day as a student at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters had begun with the renowned Jean Grey telling her all the reasons why Wade was dangerous; most of which Ellie had already known. He was insane—check. Sane people didn’t talk to the voices in their heads. He was violent—check. Ellie had seen that violence first hand as he severed one hand off of Juby’s father and carefully, meticulously broken every single bone in the other one before smashing everything with the heavy hilt of his gun.

But—Wade was “safe.” He was the only person that Mr. Parker had said that about. And honestly? Juby’s dad had deserved it.

“Aw, isn’t that cute? All spikes and growls like a baby hedgehog!”

And there was that. Ellie rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?” she demanded.

He brightened. How the Hell he did that in a mask, she had no clue. “Thanks for asking! Well, first—and also last—I want Petey-Pie to love me forever and ever!”

“Ugh! I don’t need to hear about your love life!”

“You asked!”

“Why are you talking to me? Instead of, you know, sucking face with your ‘Petey-Pie’?” she asked making finger quotations around the gross name.

“Ah! You’re so cute! Yeah, just wanted to let you know that Peter’s not going to be available for a while. I’ve kidnapped him.”

Ellie stared at the man, black eyes surrounding expressive whites in his red and black suit. “Kidnapped him,” she repeated.

“Why does everybody repeat that part?” groused Wade.

Ellie stuck her hands in her pockets so as not to give into the temptation to smack him. No matter how “safe” he was, she didn’t think he’d hold back if she did anything that seemed like attacking him. “Why did you kidnap your boyfriend Wade? Wouldn’t flowers have worked better?”

“Ooo! Kinky! No, I did it to protect him. Someone with lots of money wants him dead.”

Once again Ellie stared at him, this time in shock. “Who would want to kill Mr. Parker?” she asked, confused. Sure, there were a lot of people that didn’t like the man (mostly because of his kindness towards the street kids), but she couldn't think of anyone that wanted to kill him.

“Don’t know.” Suddenly the man in front of her was very much dangerous and predator. She fought the urge to run. Predators, especially the human kind, chased the ones that ran first. The man slightly relaxed and Ellie could breathe again. “But I will find out. Just wanted to let you know that he’s not going to be available for your school thing.”

Ellie relaxed—slightly. She was always wary on the street, especially these streets. The Snipers were roaming farther and farther from their stomping grounds. “S’okay,” she said casually. “They don’t actually expect to interact with him, at least not yet. And Wolverine said you’re lucky to have a boyfriend who doesn’t even hesitate to admit when asked about your relationship.”

“Aw! Squee! Petey-Pie told Wolvie we were dating? My heart might explode into a volcano of glitter!”

“Ew,” said Ellie as she mentally pictured it. She shook her head. “Go pour some of that glitter on your boyfriend dumbass, and leave us alone.”

“Ugh! Rude! I shall take myself elsewhere.” Wade threw out a hip dramatically and sashayed away.

Ellie stared after him for just a little too long. Her arm was grabbed and she whirled—to see a uniformed officer. “Ellen Phimister?” asked the officer, kindness on her face. “We’re here to take you home.”

Home. To—that. Ellie panicked and tried to break away—but the officer’s grip was like steel. “No, no no!” cried Ellie in blind terror as she was hauled, slowly but surely, towards the car. Where she’d be taken to the station. Where she’d be held. Where she’d be turned over—

“Angel!” she screamed in panic as she tried to break free. “Angel, help me!”

The thundering wings were like a godsend as Angel dropped to the ground in front of them, wings swooping out away from her body before being tucked in neatly against her back. Angel propped her fists on her waist and looked at the scene with pursed lips. “Well, this is a conundrum.”

The officer released Ellie to grab her weapon and Ellie bolted. “What are you?” demanded the officer as she pointed the gun at Angel.

Angel shrugged. “Helpful. Friendly. Pointing out your prey has run away.”

Ellie, from her hiding spot, saw the officer glance to confirm Angel’s statement. “Ellen is a lost child whose family is looking for her,” the woman said.

Ellie bit deep into her wrist to keep from screaming. Family? They were nothing like family.

Angel snorted. “Okay. Hold up. You have a child whose reaction to being told you’re taking her home is bone deep terror, and that doesn’t throw up any warning flags at all for you?” When the officer said nothing Angel sighed. “And I thought your reputation was bad,” the older girl muttered. “Do you even have a child welfare department?”

“Of course we do!” bristled the officer.

“And they’re the ones that cleared her home, are they?” drawled Angel.

Ellie couldn't bear to hear any more. What if the officer managed to change Angel’s mind, and Angel decided that Ellie needed to go back? No, Ellie need to go. Her place. A safe place.

Her place, wedged between two buildings trapped in a constant state of renovation, may have been safe, but it wasn’t secret. Ellie didn’t know how long she’d huddled there, shivering in fear, before she heard the distinctive footsteps behind her. “Are you okay Ellie?” asked Angel, softly, gently. “Can I approach?”

“Do you mind being touched?”

Ellie remembered every time the older girl had asked, how she always moved slowly, so Ellie could avoid her if she wanted even though Ellie knew she could move much, much quicker. “You know,” she gasped in horror. She curled in on herself. She didn’t want anyone to know.

Angel quietly dropped until she was level with Ellie. “I guessed,” she said softly. “Ellie,” she said, using the name for the first time since she learned it, “it wasn’t your fault.”

Ellie gasped and choked on a sob. “You don’t know that!” she hissed viciously.

“I do.” Ellie looked up through the tears streaming down her face at Angel. The older girl looked both ancient and impossibly young at the same time. “I always know. These days.” She held out a hand, reaching for—but not touching—Ellie.

Ellie was torn. She wanted to hide, to be safe. But—but she also wanted to be comforted as a dim, almost forgotten memory insisted she had once been. A sob wrenched from her throat as she threw herself into Angel’s arms and began to cry.

“There you are,” Angel said as she hugged the child back and wrapped both of them in her wings. “Let it all out. You’ll feel better.”

Even as she cried Ellie noticed that Angel didn’t say things like, “It’s okay,” or “you’re safe now.” Angel knew better. It wasn’t okay, it had never been okay, and it was possible that Ellie wouldn't live long enough for it to be okay. And while Ellie was safe right now (she’d seen Angel heal herself almost instantly after getting shot with a bullet), Angel wouldn't be around forever. Her existence in New Amsterdam was on a timer; Ellie had seen it with her own eyes.

When Ellie got hold of herself she was mortified. Mortified that she’d broken down. Mortified that someone had witnessed her breakdown. Mortified that she’d hogged all of Angel’s attention when it was possible that there were others out there who were being hunted by Snipers. And, most of all, she was mortified that Angel was right.

She did feel better.

[skamamoroma]

WTFOCK Season 3 Analysis- Touch and Distance - (Sander focused)

First of all, this will be long. As in, VERY long. If you know me and you followed me at ALL for Skam Italia or WTFOCK ‘analysis’ posts (which I WILL finish) then you’ll know the length to expect… so if you get even half way, you deserve a medal. 

So, I have been promising this for a LONG time. I think I first said I’d write this when the reunion clip was released and I just… haven’t but seeing as we’re all in quarantine and I’m doing anything and everything to stay sane in my flat alone and we could all do with stuff to cheer us up, I’m offering this to fandom and I hope it makes you smile.

I think the reason I fell in love with Skam, the format and the intense character focus is because I love just that. I have always had an obsession with strong character driven TV shows/movies and even when I was tiny, I wrote an essay about Mary Poppins because I found her so mysterious and amazing. Shows like Skam and its remakes, when they’re GOOD they’re really really bloody amazing, mainly because they hone in on character detail and really use it for that perfect Skam-esque “show not tell” format. I’ve always found that kind of stuff so interesting and over the years have held this little collection of couples/characters/friendships from allsorts of shows/movies/theatre dear because they celebrate nuance… and Skam just spoils me!!

I have been MASSIVELY impressed with WTFOCK have done with Sander. He feels so fleshed out and dynamic as a character and in SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS too. I think one of the things I was so giddy about was the way they still managed to keep the mystery there while also making it seem like we knew him so well. And we do. But I think that’s the reason it’s so cool because a lot of the things we know about Sander, he hasn’t really TOLD us. We’ve learned it through his actions or from reading into his words, from his reactions to people and the way he lives his life. That, to me, is like crack hahaha. I live for that stuff and for analysing a character and so I became a bit fixated on the way they used touch in season 3.

Now, it’s not just with Sander but with Robbe too. Touch was an ENORMOUS part of the season and we never really EVER had either of them talk about it. Robbe never really expressed verbal discomfort with touch early on but we saw it and Sander never expressed how important touch was to him but we witnessed it...and now we’re watching wtfockdown with Sander specifically struggling with lack of touch. Safe to say, I knew I had to write this eventually and after quite a few messages (you lovely lot), I am doing this for you. Enjoy!

SANDER FIRST...

SANDER.

When it comes to Sander, I feel like I have SO MUCH TO SAY but I think, the most important thing, is that touch is a cornerstone of character in terms of what calms him, what makes him happy, what makes him feel connected, what soothes him, how he expresses love, how he wants to show love, how he flirts… ALL OF IT, and distance is what plagues him. 

I re-watched each clip in turn and I’m still obsessed with how they layered his character with this idea. No other Even and not even Even himself has this element so strongly emphasised. Yes, they all like touch and some of the parallels have specific things that form part of their character like Eliott and Lucas and the whole touch of skin thing and Cris/Joana with the hair/cheeks thing and Even always loved to ground himself in touching Isak ETC… but with Sander, it’s such a narrative and it’s woven in so beautifully. ABOVE ALL, what makes me smile and what is so meaningful is that as Robbe grows and opens up and learns about touch himself (see my Robbe post to come), we see that Sander is gifted this really sweet boy who LOVES to touch and who is incredibly affectionate and finds himself learning that he is INCREDIBLY good at providing comfort. So their love story also becomes a story of touch and navigating distance from those perspectives.

I guess writing it out helps to see it so I’ll go chronologically. 

The first time we see Sander use touch is when he’s in the kitchen with Robbe. The entire scene is practically choreographed it’s so fluid but the lack of space, the shuffling around each other and the general ‘oh my god this person makes me feel things’ vibe makes the fact that when Sander purposefully touches Robbe for the first time, it’s a THING… that hand on his back. They do kind of brush up against each other a few times but that little linger of the camera on Sander’s hand on Robbe’s back makes me GIDDY because it’s all so intentional. It’s Robbe’s face that does me in. You don’t need his words because he does this sort of glance behind him and a bashful sort of dazed stumble… it’s so obvious that being touched like that by Sander got to him in an overwhelming way. It’s all electricity and that kind of giddy new love thing in the kitchen but that moment KILLS me because it’s touch that Robbe WANTS but doesn’t feel able to have… but Sander gives it because he’s SANDER. He’s demonstrable and purposeful (I will use that word a lot!) with touch.

Sander does stuff in a way that’s bold and purposeful (told you) and touch is part of that. ALL THE WAY OR NO WAY - right? So many times, you can see Sander decide and then act immediately. SO MANY TIMES. In the supermarket, feeding Robbe, in the bar when he decides to take Robbe off on an adventure, at the swimming pool ETC. SO MANY. And touch is a thing all wrapped up in that sense of purpose and spontaneity. His actions are mostly not overbearing or unwanted though which is so key. People seem to feel comfortable with him even if he is a little forward and NOBODY more than Robbe. Robbe doesn’t recoil, he lets it happen and not in the passive way we see him do early on but in the OH WOW HE TOUCHED ME way that can only come with attraction and early feelings. BUT THEY HAD KNOWN EACH OTHER HOURS. Hours, and Robbe was fine with it. 

Sander and flirting... HE IS SO OBVIOUS and touch is part of it every single time. That whole ‘oops I rolled into you in the sand’ is just textbook, man! Hahaha. I laugh at him early on because he is genuinely adorable with how obvious he is. Same can be said for the “oops I just need to grab this bottle that just happens to be right next to you which means I need to stand so close to you and wrap my arms around you’ - hahahaha. Not to mention the ‘oh let me teach you to turn on the oven and lightly touch our fingers’. Purposeful. 

Then you get the first time they’re together alone for their bike ride. I mean, we all know Sander is giddy. It’s what makes it so sweet to watch because he’s just SO HAPPY to have Robbe by himself and to go off on this adventure together. I LOVE the way he holds Robbe’s hand after they high five…. BOY. He takes advantage of stuff while he can. But when they get to the pool, it’s obviously an Even move and we all know how it goes but the first time he touches Robbe is to kiss him. We know it’s all he wanted, we know it was his plan, we know he’s been wanting to do it a long time but I LOVE that they kept in the recoil from Robbe because it is absolutely NOT a gradual progression for Robbe when it comes to Sander… it’s ALL IN and scary and overwhelming and Robbe’s instincts kick in but the second Robbe kisses Sander back, we get the start of seeing Sander and touch being a HUGE DEAL. Robbe is still learning and faced with the way Sander acts first, thinks later, the differences between them in this moment are STARK. It’s why it all goes so catastrophically wrong afterwards but why I understood what Robbe did even if it was so very wrong. 

Sander is SUCH an Even and I’ve always said he reminds me of Even the most of all the parallels but especially when he kisses. He’s a passionate dude! He kisses with meaning and with all he has and it’s little wonder Robbe described it as his head exploding… poor guy! You get that first glimpse of Sander acting on his feelings and he’s overwhelming. In that pool, he grasps and holds on and Robbe’s hair becomes a total THING for him. 

For me, I get most interested in touch from Chernobyl onwards. THAT CLIP. The stuff in it that’s so subtle but AMAZING when it comes to Sander makes me roll around in it, in the way it MEANS so much and says a lot about who he is. The DISTANCE he keeps from Robbe is not something we’ve seen from him yet. It’s clearly not comfortable for him but he deserves to keep it until he feels comfortable and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that he only moves closer but DOESN’T touch Robbe yet. And this next moment is what sparked my obsession…. The “i’m going to nearly kiss you and then not kiss you” moment. He uses touch to make a point. Purposeful. He stands close but they don’t touch and then he teases with it… tests Robbe’s response with it to see what he’d do. Robbe doesn’t move and allows it. He then clarifies how Robbe feels about stuff now and the second he gets his answer … fuck all of that noise and fuck all the issues I had in my head (a sentiment we KNOW Sander understands and grasps onto eventually - Chernobyl being the way he himself describes the effects of his bipolar disorder) he goes all in and closes the distance. KILLS ME. That use of touch to make a point is Sander ALLOVER. Never without purpose.

They don’t STOP touching AT ALL… until it’s used AGAIN. This time, this huge focus on pulling apart. It’s gradual. They disconnect from their bodies then they disconnect from lips and then that lingering shot on their hands and the whole holding on until the very last second…COME ON. It’s so perfect. So intentional and so meaningful. The fact that Sander holds on purposefully for so long until he absolutely can’t anymore, it makes him STUMBLE…. If that’s not a whole metaphor for who he is as a character then I don’t know what is! He WON’T allow that distance until he absolutely has to… and that fact characterises their ENTIRE story right up until wtfockdown!

Onto the cuddle scene and again, from Chernobyl, it’s full of poignant moments. It’s an overload in terms of seeing Sander respond to touch. There’s a lot of touching in this clip, a lot of playful stuff and kisses and cuddles but I think there are a few specifics that are in there for a reason that say so much. The first is the hair stroking. Now, we know Robbe and Sander LOVE touching each other’s hair and there’s a fair amount of pulling involved too… haha… but it’s so telling the way that Sander relaxes under Robbe’s touch. He spends most of that scene with his eyes closed. It relaxes him, makes him sleepy and comfortable and Robbe clearly realises it because when Sander seems distressed, Robbe goes straight to do it again. It’s all part of Robbe’s journey wrapped up in there too, learning how his touch can be soothing.I love that Sander barely moves from his position upside down on the bed. He allows Robbe the ability to do ANYTHING. He lets Robbs move around him, lets Robbe touch him and climb on top of him. He just basks in it and please go rewatch it and watch his eyes even when Robbe is talking… he closes them constantly like it’s making him fall asleep. He’s so comforted by it. When Robbe climbs on him, his eyes are even closed! He’s just VERY VERY happy allowing Robbe anything when it comes to moving around him and in his space. He lets Robbe koala himself on his back without a flinch, is so comfortable with the affection and clearly soaking it all in. I think the other moment is when Sander realises Robbe’s jealousy/upset and goes to very purposefully lie down against him to tuck his head under Robbe’s chin. The purpose in it, at the time, seemed kinda sheepish but we know better now. We KNOW Sander had tried to distance himself from Britt but she wasn’t allowing it and this is Sander purposefully closing that distance, taking it back and seeking Robbe’s touch again. It’s like he’s had that comforting touch now and, without it, it doesn’t feel right so he closes the distance the VERY SECOND he can. He does this a few times from here on out too… that lack of ability to stay apart from Robbe, the wish to keep that comfort coming. 

There’s this struggle we see from him AGAIN and AGAIN. When stuff with Robbe suffers because Sander’s truth gets in the way (with Britt texting in the cuddle scene, with their distance before the reunion where Sander tried to leave Robbe behind etc)... he CANNOT wait to remove the distance as quickly as he possibly can. The only exception is when they’ve been apart post hotel and Sander is unwell… but we know he’s frightened, embarrassed, worried about hurting Robbe and we know that he’s trying to keep Robbe at arm’s length to protect him but… and I’ll get onto it later but it’s PERFECT to me that the second he has touch back, the second Robbe kisses him, he crumbles. It means THAT MUCH to him. It’s such a pattern with him and it starts here, with Sander crawling across the bed, not allowing Robbe to be too far away while he still has him. 

For me, it epitomises that idea of “i don’t know if I’ll find someone like that, at least not someone who loves me”. Because, for Sander, he WANTS so badly. He wants to be in love and to find someone special and be able to show love but he’s terrified. For such a purposeful person, someone who acts on instinct, that is clearly so hard for him. He WANTS but he has to force himself NOT TO for all of the reasons he gives and for all of the reasons we can read from his behaviour. Those moments he stays away - aka post assault, post hotel - are all for a good reason and yet the second he realises that the worries that lead to his belief that he can’t HAVE are unfounded or resolved, he closes any and all distance and holds on for dear life. “I’m never ever letting go of you”. ALL THE WAY OR NO WAY. He either allows himself everything and that ‘all in’ sense of falling head over heels and clinging on for dear life or he cuts and runs… and the cutting/running part honestly must have hurt so badly for him. We know how much Robbe means to him and how much touch and comfort he gets from their relationship… to leave that behind when he can’t remain over the other side of the bed from Robbe normally must have been so hard for him. 

ANYWAY. The date. I’ve talked about this endlessly but the first minute or so of this clip is some of the best chemistry I’ve seen in the SCU and, in general, to be honest. It hit me like a freight train when I first saw it. For LGBT+ folks, seeing stuff like this is impactful. Mainly because it’s shown as so natural and normal and given the same respect and focus on desire and sweetness and simplicity as hetero love stories have been given for millenia! 

They touch constantly throughout this clip but I just LOVE the focus on it. The camera lingers. Every shot is there for a reason. Sander’s touch goes from playful to casually affectionate to passionate to suggestive within seconds and he drowns in it! It’s mesmerising to watch. Again, it almost feels choreographed. The moment that kills me is Sander just running one finger across Robbe’s collar bone. WHOEVER decided to include that --- director or writer or even actor --- it’s just perfect. It’s so Sander. He doesn’t stop touching and that little focus on the fact that he always wants to show how he feels through touching Robbe...the fact that it is on his skin when Robbe is wearing a full on sweatshirt shows how much Sander seeks intimacy out. It’s so purposeful once again and yet so simple… but the main thing is that Sander uses touch to keep that connection going. The music change at that exact moment is what does it for me. It’s dream-like, swoony and mesmerising. You can feel the dazed sense of love and adoration, the intimacy of the fact that Sander can’t help but hold onto Robbe’s hair again and even when he’s whispering to him, can’t help but chase it with kisses. Sander uses every thought and feeling he has inside and translates it directly into touch. He communicates with it! 

Which leads pretty nicely onto the reunion… because the next time we have Sander able to reach out physically is SO MUCH LATER. The assault, the distance Robbe enforces (for good reason because of what he believes happened at the party) and then the confusion about the mural creates SO MUCH DISTANCE.

The start of the reunion clip is one of my all time favourite SCU moments from any remake. The acting is near perfection. I’ve posted tons about it before but GOD. I love that, to this point, after that intense, hazy kind of love they were starting in the bar… everything was torn away from them. As I said before, Sander is either ALL IN or not at all. When he’s in, he’s REALLY in and touch is fundamental. 

So it KILLLLLLSSSSSS MEEEEEEE (Yes, I am being dramatic but GOD) that the first thing he does when he walks in the foyer of Robbe’s building, without explanation and after so long apart and so much mess existing between them is… close the distance between them physically. 

This scene reminds me of the La Grotta scene from Skam It s2. Every touch and movement in that scene with Marti and Nico is a form of communication and it’s the same here. I guess it’s why I love both scenes so much because ‘show not tell’ is precious and intelligent and so so much more meaningful for a viewer. The way Sander just stands there and then without words, kisses Robbe and tries to do what he can normally do so easily and communicate through his touches is heartbreaking. But too much has gone on. It’s not possible to communicate that way after so much hurt and confusion. 

Then that forehead touch. GOD. I remember watching it and being so bowled over without how much was SAID by both of them. The way that Sander leans into it like he KNOWS he can’t use kisses to sort it all out but just NEEDS comfort and Robbe’s touch… and the way Robbe lets himself have it for a moment but then makes genuine crying noises of frustration to get Sander to stop. The “I want this so much but stop, it’s not fair what you’re doing” is so obvious in his actions. It’s all because it’s how they communicate. BECAUSE touch is their love language, the fact that they can’t give into it is PHYSICALLY painful for them both. They both just stand there with their eyes closed. Sander looks exhausted, devastated but also so deeply comforted by Robbe’s presence and the fact that he can be close to him again in equal measure. Robbe lets out this big sigh and it screams “I know, I feel the same, this feels so right and I miss you so much but I can’t let you forget everything that happened” - YET THEY DON’T STOP TOUCHING. I love that regardless, they stay connected and cannot physically part themselves. It’s written all over Sander’s face how much it means to have Robbe so close and Robbe’s little nose rub is plain adorable. They are literally standing there comforting each other while at the same time trying to communicate through nothing but touch… and the RELIEF in those touches too. 

It’s little wonder that what happens next happens in the way it does. Those few words from Sander and the touches between them are enough for them to just KNOW. Their connection is so fundamental that it’s worth fighting through and relying on that gut instinct for them. 

Sander is then able to do what he’s good at and be purposeful, firm and to throw himself into it. ALL THE WAY. Once he knows he is ok again, that he has permission and is allowed to let his heart go, he just falls into it and it’s ALL TOUCHING from then on. Every kiss is so meaningful and there are a few specific moments that are really meaningful to me. 

The first one is Sander’s smile when he lands on the bed. He is never happier than when he’s able to be free like this. He revels in the ability to throw himself into his feelings. He’s ridiculously enviable tbh. The next moment is the whole clawing, clinging thing he does. Yet again, poor Robbe’s hair gets yanked every which way but I love that we get that glimpse of ‘never letting you go’ mentality he has to keep Robbe as close as physically possible and the way he closes his eyes, smiles and loses himself in those moments. They’re so close to Sander POV it’s crazy. It reminds me of during the cuddle scene when he closed his eyes. Touch grounds him in the most astounding way! I LOVE that the lyrics during this as “take it how you want it, take all my love”. PERFECT, man. That idea of give and take is SO IMPORTANT for them, for Sander especially. The ALL THE WAY mentality he has means that he could only EVER fall in love with someone who is able to counter it, someone who is able to GIVE IN to Sander the way he needs and lose themself too the way he likes. He could only ever fall in love with someone as willing to give and take the way that he is with comfort… and Robbe fits the bill, which is obviously as much of a surprise to him too! I think that’s where their connection comes in. That spark between them and the way they feel for each other is one of contentment so they’re quite happy taking what they need from the other person because the other is SO GIVING. Robbe is so affectionate which is what Sander craves and Sander is so purposeful and bold in his ways which is what Robbe needs. The last moment is the hand holding. Again, Sander is grounded by that physical connection. He clings and holds on and receives so much comfort from it. The knowledge that they’re in something together is clearly huge for them both.

The morning after scene is most meaningful in terms of touch when they get into Robbe’s room. I LOVE how natural it all is. Sander is very happy letting Robbe do what he wants again and it’s almost seamless for Robbe just to sit on his lap. But he’s completely incapable of reigning himself in. The purposeful side of Sander comes out in full distraction mode with Sander genuinely incapable of keeping his hands to himself. The whole playful kind of sexy “I’ll throw you around” thing is not only them at peak comfort with each other but Sander’s way of physically showing he’s not going anywhere, of reminding Robbe that he’s all Sander’s attention is on and all he cares about and that he can DO this now, just toss Robbe onto the bed and crawl all over him - hahahaha. He treats Robbe like he’s precious and completely focused on but also treats Robbe perhaps the way HE wants to be treated… those promises followed by touching with a little possessiveness, that reminder that he won’t be left alone. He gives it all to Robbe and in true Sander style, tries to communicate through touch as much as he possibly can because words mean honesty and they mean a risk of losing it all. 

The next notable moment is YET AGAIN, Sander playing with touch when he arrives at the flat. The “nope, Robbe, you’re not getting what you want until we do this fun thing I want to do with you to create a tradition”. He does it twice, playing with denying Robbe touch and physical contact. He has a task to do and he needs Robbe focused on it so he uses touch to keep that focus sharp… and then the fact that the VERY SECOND that task is done, Sander literally walks straight into Robbe’s arms and kinda carries him off towards Robbe’s room makes me laugh. He’s like ���ok touching is allowed right this instant” … he knows himself. If he’d have allowed them to touch before he did his task, there’d have been ABSOLUTELY NO SHOE PUT OUT! He’s self aware ;)

Then the hotel… and oh my heart breaks and is soothed in equal measure because this evening was HANDS DOWN one of my most favourite Skam watching experiences. It is gut wrenching in real time and so beautifully acted, I can’t handle it, especially from Willem DS. That kid can act rings around most professional Hollywood actors. They both can. Yet another Skam remake showcasing young talent at its most special and honest. Anyway, I digress!

The shower scene has to be talked about. The show runners etc explained why they included it where the original didn’t (although planned to!) and I get why some found it a little too much but, for them, it worked. I mean, I’m not the person to talk about sex scenes but I definitely CAN talk tons about them when they’re MEANINGFUL and layered and this one is. It’s complete and utter trust. I love so much of the camera work here because you can see they tried to be as respectful as possible while also getting the meaning across and it worked so well… especially as the stuff that clicks for me is Sander’s behaviour. He’s so lost in it. Again, he’s someone who acts on instinct and needs someone who will respond to him with understanding. If someone’s not on the same page then he’s THROWN (and this is why the whole cyber sex things is killing me with its meaning for him!).  Again with Robbe’s hair being pulled all over the place but Sander allows himself take and be taken and it’s so important to who he is that it’s ALL THE WAY kind of love and that he’s allowed to be both in control and also completely vulnerable.

The way they segue into the shot of the bed and sander is completely wrapped up in Robbe’s arms kills me. There’s no one right way for them. Touch comes to Sander in his ability to be DEMONSTRABLE and also to RECEIVE. In these moments, he just snuggles into Robbe and takes and takes and takes and takes… but only because Robbe is so perfectly willing to provide. It’s why they work. That balance is what is so key about their relationship. Sander feels ok to suddenly go from firm and handsy to extremely vulnerable and the shot when the camera closes in on his face so serene and at ease, happy to be kissed repeatedly on the forehead by Robbe is just incredibly meaningful and emotional. He is allowed to be himself and to fall into it without worry even when he’s at his most vulnerable. He basks in it and it’s so comforting to watch. I love that he plays with Robbe’s necklace because not only is it him looking at a guardian angel around Robbe’s neck but it’s like a tick to ground him and comfort him right back. A touch to something so fundamentally Robbe.

The segue into the second clip where Sander is even MORE wrapped up in Robbe’s arms breaks my heart. I remember seeing the og Skam cuddle clip all those years back and realising that my god, I’d never seen affection from an LGBT+ couple before in that innocent, gentle, normal way! It’s sad that this was the case but it’s why Skam got under my skin and why the s3 storyline is always so precious to me. This is yet another example but throw in the respect shown to mental illness in a really human and raw way and I’m gone. I love that Sander is able to be so cuddly and open without worry. He’s going through it, struggling and when this clip aired I remember almost every post in the tag was about his eyes, the frantic eyes showing that so much is going on inside his head while he lies there still, soaking up the comfort Robbe is willing to provide. The antithesis is insane but works so well. Robbe has no idea that he’s effectively holding Sander together. He’s clinging on. He’s doing what he always said he would and never letting Robbe go.

The night time switch into Sander’s struggles hurts because he’s still trying so hard not to let go but his brain is struggling, he’s panicking, he’s not in control of himself and he’s scared. You can see it all over his face, in his eyes and body language that he WANTS to stay with Robbe and when Robbe asks him to come back, tries to pull him back to cuddle, Sander goes because he ALWAYS DOES. He tries so so hard till he can’t try anymore and that distance is forced upon him. It was devastating to watch in real time because we all KNEW what was going to happen (we’d seen it all before) but, for some reason, the way Sander was and what we’d learned about him made him being separated from Robbe in this vulnerable state really upsetting. He was so happy in Robbe’s arms, so comforted and then all of sudden it was gone. 

The fact that the cycle happens again to lead us into the next time we see Sander physically WITH Robbe is just crazy meaningful because this time, Sander’s truth is not able to be hidden. He can’t use touch to distract and to ignore his thoughts and reality. Everything about the way he acts is out of shame and embarrassment and fear of not being loved for who he is - flaws and all. When I eventually finish my analysis posts, I have SO MUCH to say about this but my goodness, Sander is the only Even aside from Eliott who doesn’t reach out and they both have that same feeling of shame in common. The difference is that Sander actively tries to hide away, to push Robbe away and ACTS on what the other Evens said aka I’ll hurt you, it won’t work, I should leave… he physically does that. The thing that makes me a little misty eyed is the fact that he also provides Robbe with information to help find him. He desperately wants Robbe to be the only one to find him while also simultaneously wanting him as far away from him as possible. He’s done it before with the mural, that “I love you and I need to show you but I can’t be with you”. It’s that desperate pull they have that just ends in mess but at the core has such love and comfort. Sander has run away from everyone, hasn’t reached out to any of them except Robbe and it’s his way of closing that distance even if he’s so sure Robbe is better off without him. Why else would he send Robbe that message, effectively using their history and experience to suggest where he is. Robbe was all he wanted, was all that comforted him (hence the drawings all over the walls) and the fact that when Sander is found, he kept pushing and pushing and pushing and resisting and falling apart through grief and pain and shame and every other negative feeling that overwhelms him… but STILL follows when Robbe asks. He’s trying so hard for the NO WAY of it all but it was never going to work. The fact that when Robbe properly touches him, he falls apart is just about the most obvious thing for me. Robbe is comfort and safety. He may not have all of the answers but just being close is so clearly and viscerally affecting for Sander that he collapses and lets Robbe take the weight of him both literally and metaphorically. That touch is all he needs to fall back into ALL THE WAY and let himself believe.

The fact that the next scene starts with Sander, completely wrapped around Robbe, their skin touching and Robbe stroking Sander’s hand just goes to show how much he allowed himself to use that touch again not only as comfort but as belief that he doesn’t need to mask things anymore. He doesn’t need to pretend and hide his reality, he can be open and vulnerable and also have the ALL THE WAY too. Robbe is that solid warm weight and reassurance. The purposeful Sander is still buried there, it’s just the vulnerability is too overwhelming and so he relies so much on Robbe here to provide what he needs. And god BLESS Robbe’s enormous affectionate heart because he’s perfect with him. Sander clearly meant the words from the day before, signifying he really expected Robbe to change his mind in the morning...those really quiet questions in the dark to Robbe are just heartbreaking because he needs reassurance. Robbe closes the distance to him, gets so close, kisses him multiple times, presses their foreheads together and doesn’t judge… and Sander is completely comforted enough to be able to fall asleep.

THEN… one of my ultimate favourite moments of Sander and touch. It’s like a culmination of EVERYTHING we’ve learned about Sander (and also it’s the same for Robbe but I’ll leave that for my Robbe post!!). He’s still vulnerable but getting back to his usual self a little playing games with Milan and you can see the spark in his eyes, the way he uses his words again to assert how he feels but, above all, it’s that contrast between him asking for a kiss and leaning back into Robbe in this purposeful way that’s perfectly softened by the fact it’s him receiving and seeking comfort too. It’s then that both sides of Sander come together and the fact he’s found what he seeks it in one person is so special. Robbe is EVERYWHERE. He’s all hands in Sander’s hair, legs either side of him, resting his chest against Sander’s back, holding his head gently, kissing everything he can get his lips on (mouth, nose, head, hair) and then settling with his arms around Sander’s neck. It’s EVERYTHING. Sander has shown from the start in most things he does how much touch is important in terms of asserting himself, seeking comfort and showing love and in this tiny little scene it has ALL THREE and is why they are both so dear to me as a pair. It’s INCREDIBLY romantic and very reassuring for anyone who has ever struggled in the way Robbe or Sander has… because it confirms that it is possible for people with specific needs and people who have been shaped by their experiences and come out of it with certain needs and vulnerabilities are able to be loved completely without judgement.

“In good time, you’ll come to know, when you release, when you let go, you can find yourself where you belong”

The best thing though is the way that Sander responds in this moment. He shakes his head and smiles to himself like he’s coming out of a trance. That little ‘yeah’ is adorable. That moment is enough to say all there is about what touch means to Sander as a human being and a partner. For a moment, Robbe helps him forget, sends him a little dizzy with love, gives Sander overwhelming comfort that Sander disappears into it and, as cheesy as it sounds, they fit. It’s exactly what all of the Even and Isak parallels had, that ‘i save you, you save me right back’ love story. They all did it in different ways but with these two, I was stunned with how much they put into the unspoken, especially with Sander. We don’t see him as much, we don’t get inside his head like Robbe’s but we still understand him, possibly more than any other Even parallel by the end of season 3 and this is the season closest to the original for unanswered questions! It’s why I don’t at all mind questions left unanswered and a lack of exposition and clean cut resolution because if the emotion is there and the nuance is there then it does half of it for you. 

I love that the final scene of the season, for Sander purposes, is him wrapped in Robbe’s arms! It’s kinda poetic.

I love his character so much. He’s insanely expressive and complex and he’s fascinating to me and to have WTFOCKDOWN is a total gift...because not only does it give us insights we’d never have gotten otherwise, we get this continuation of Robbe and Sander’s relationship and what is it about…. TOUCH. Hahaha. I mean, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect topic for exploration of who they are together as a starter for ten, not to mention it’s so Sander focused too!

When it comes to Wtfockdown, we get to see Sander operating in enforced distance. We KNOW that when distance has been a thing in the past, he has tried everything he can to make up for it (murals, drawings, reaching out to Robbe cryptically). That compensation for the distance never ever worked. It always made it so that when Sander eventually had Robbe close again, he threw himself back in head first and touch was HUGE when it came to that. Now, Sander has Robbe completely and vice versa and no doubt knows fully what it is like to have that comfort and touch all of the time… but now it has been taken away. For Robbe, he’s an affectionate koala of a human but his relationship with touch has been a journey of discovery and of self but he doesn’t depend on it like Sander does. He communicates with it but, for Sander, it’s a vital part of who he is. I love that the first clip has Sander asking to meet up… hahaha. I remember being so giddy reading that because OF COURSE. He’s trying everything he can again. Then he broke my heart because this time, his form of compensation is to take Robbe with him on his walks. It’s yet ANOTHER form of compensation to try to fill that void where touch once was! 

Clip 2 starts their face to face journey and GUYS. I mean, Sander flat out saying that the thing he misses most about Robbe is his touch just about broke my heart and made me giddy once again! They really did that. He’s so happy to see Robbe, to spend time with him but over and over again he’s repeating ways to stop the distance like swapping places with Robbe’s mamma…! Bless his heart. The fact that he says “there’s nothing better than you”, he REALLY does mean it. We’ve seen a whole season of why that’s the truth! We’ve seen him reach that conclusion! Also, that compensation once again on dreams and daydreaming… ANY WAY HE CAN to stop the distance. He breaks my heart. 

Clip 3...ONCE AGAIN. “The endlessness of this tunnel symbolises the physical distance between them”. He cannot cope with it. This one made me a bit emotional when I first saw it. They’re not just words for his fairytale; he means them. The distance is DIFFICULT for him.  You can see it on his face when he says those words, he frowns. He’s speaking the truth even if he’s making it seem a little light hearted. Then that little private moment where it says he just wants to be with Robbe. It’s genuinely incredibly hard for him to not have Robbe nearby. For someone who thrives and depends so much on touch, the distance is painful and a genuine loss. It’s not just ‘i miss my boyfriend’ because there’s a real nuance there, a real part of who Sander is that prioritises touch and closeness so significantly. 

Clip 4. It took me FAR too long to get through this clip the first time around because I SHOULD NOT BE SEEING THIS but hey ho. I watched it again for you, dudes. Sander’s on the quest for compensation for the distance again, this time trying something new and yea, it’s a risk but he means it. It’s something he wants to try because it’s Robbe and it’s fun and he loves him and misses him and feels like it’s another way to feel like the distance isn’t so vast. The moment Robbe tells him he’s not into it, Sander looks a little crushed but immediately understands and lies down. Now, for me, I might be reading so much into it but because we have seen what touch means, as a stand in for it, and Sander now feeling so comfortable with Robbe, that moment of ‘I’ve gone too far’, ‘we’re not on the same page’ is huge for them. Sander can’t find what he’s looking for during the distance and you can see he feels so embarrassed but the moment he laughs at himself, tells Robbe that just lying together is enough and respects Robbe, you can see him trying to get back on that even plane. He loves Robbe so much and would never want to make him feel uncomfortable but for that split second, the comfort they have built wavered and Sander’s ability to be completely vulnerable was questioned… until it wasn’t and all was well for the moment because they talk and love and try. I love that they did that. I love that Sander’s inherent need for closeness was brought to light and Robbe’s need to GIVE affection was shown to be so true… only in person. Robbe thrives off that honest touch whereas Sander is grounded by it, comforted by it and finds it necessary...so without it is left floundering. THE LAYERS, guys. Rolling around in them!!!!

Clip 5 and we see Sander questioning himself. Sander still hasn’t quite felt ok since the other night and  he’s letting it affect him. That questioning himself is the same stuff we saw pre-final reunion where he allows his issues to cloud his judgement and he spirals a little when left to his own devices. It’s that insecurity that Robbe managed to settle in him, that push and pull they have but Sander is human and he’s struggling and Robbe’s not there to provide that settlement. He doesn’t RELY on Robbe so much as WANT him because he makes things better. The fact that all the while, Robbe is learning how far his own ability to provide affection and closeness from afar is able to go by seeking advice from Milan makes me want to weep… because the writing is perfect! Of course he is. Everything we know about him tells us he’d do this!

So we’re in present day and I can’t wait to see what they do next. The way they write these two separately and together shows so much understanding of who the characters are, what they mean to each other and this great respect for honouring what they’ve created with so much gentle nuance and emotion. If the past 50000000000 words didn’t suggest it clearly enough - I love what they’re doing so much!

If you’re still awake after all that, you’re super human. Thank you for reading and this post is LONG overdue but it’s here and as rambly as you’d expect. Robbe’s specific post will be along soon! <3

[ruensroad]

never knew it could feel like this

@bloody-bee-tea gave me a good challenge with some mafia!Xichen falling in love with cafe owner!Jiang Cheng, featuring a healthy dose of secrets and jealousy.

---

His life had been a study of how to properly ignore his emotions from his first day under the Jin Syndicate’s thumb. Fear, hidden behind logic. Anger, hidden behind polite words. Sadness, hidden behind smiles. When one was part of a mafia and every moment of life forfeit at any given moment, one had to adopt such measures just to stay sane and alive. Falling too far into emotion would not be good for anyone, something he knew well. After all, if his father had not done that very thing, he would not be where he was now, and he’d promised himself long ago he would never follow that path.

And for the most part, he had a solid handle on it. Over the years, Lan Huan was certain he’d felt all emotions a human was capable of and had dealt with them all. Grief, to frustration, to rare, unbridled joy. There were some emotions he would never reach, like knowing true freedom, and he was alright with that. He had to be. The problem was that he’d miscalculated his ability to overcome these emotions he did not expect. Which was to say he did not overcome them at all. Not even close.

The Lotus Cafe was a safe haven. Peace, when peace did not exist for a man in his position. And a simpler freedom, where he could forget, even if for just an hour, that his life was not his own. Where he could imagine a world where sitting and drinking tea with a warm pastry was a welcome break from a normal job, and where he could smile and flirt with the cafe’s owner without feeling like a liar and a thief.

Not that his intentions towards Jiang Cheng weren’t true. They just weren’t wholly honest, could never be, and if he wasn’t so weak he could be the better man and walk away.

But there was no walking away from a miracle. Lan Huan had learned that from his mother. And perhaps Jiang Cheng didn’t know the full truth about Lan Huan’s tainted world, but he understood Lan Huan was at least holding secrets and still seemed to want him regardless. Only a blind fool would turn away from such a gift.

That was where the problem began.

Want was new for him. He’d wanted to be with people before, but it had happened rarely and had never gotten this far. He felt guilty to indulge it, and helpless to fight it. That he wanted Jiang Cheng was all the logic he could find. Too many reasons to list in needing to say yes, just as many reasons to say no. He was dangerous, a complication, but he could not make the words come to tell Jiang Cheng thus. And so the cycle of guilt and desire started all over again.

And now? Now he was faced with an even newer problem.

She’d come after closing, when Jiang Cheng had dimmed the lights and handed him a broom to help. A rare smile on his face, laughter in his eyes, Lan Huan had been unable to deny him anything, even if all he’d wanted in that moment was to sweep Jiang Cheng around the cafe floor in a dance to the music playing from his phone on the counter.

He’d settled for a kiss or three, all stolen around a grin, then had set to his task while Jiang Cheng had wiped down each table and chair.

The knock had set Lan Huan on edge, because his world’s shadows could reach even the brightest of places, and knowing the face on the other side of the door had not helped.

Seeing Jiang Cheng blink in surprise, but move to let her in had been infinitely worse.

And then it’d started.

“A-Qing,” Jiang Cheng chuckled and she swatted at his chest, all good natured. “Fine then, Doctor Wen.”

“Better.” She was always lovely in all the times Lan Huan had met her, the only free clinic doctor willing to patch up even mafia. Her poker face was legendary, even in the circle of the Jin Syndicate, and she didn’t even blink seeing Lan Huan standing there, holding a broom. “Did you finally find a way to disable your texts, Jiang Cheng? Wei Ying has been crying the past hour that you won’t answer him.”

Rolled eyes, so easily, and Lan Huan watched his entire frame relax, the way it never did around anyone that wasn’t family or Lan Huan himself. It made his fingers clench, just a little, around the broom.

“No, I’m just good at ignoring him,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “He knows I’m busiest at closing. Did he seriously send you here to make sure I wasn’t dead? Again?”

Her laugh was a surprise and the answering smile on Jiang Cheng’s face was a knife to his heart, so sudden it took his breath away. “Yes, but I didn’t come here for him. A-Yuan wanted to remind you of his recital on Saturday.”

Jiang Cheng sighed, but looked so fond about it that Lan Huan’s stomach dropped. In the half light, Jiang Cheng looked soft as he stared down at her, and she in turn seemed just as sweet. And that was a pain worse than the bullet he’d taken before. Lan Huan had to set the broom to the side before he snapped it, a cold feeling in his chest as they leaned in close.

He grabbed a rag and set to finishing the table Jiang Cheng had been working on, but it was a half hearted effort at best, his attention tunneling on the way Jiang Cheng bent in towards her and she to him, like their bodies knew each other’s shape and space enough it was an unconscious effort.

“I told him I’d be there, so I will,” Jiang Cheng assured her, teasingly stubborn, making her laugh again. Lan Huan had to turn away just to breathe and not rip the poor rag in half. He had a feeling that would be hard to explain away, given it was a new one. “Five o’clock, right? I made sure to fully staff so I can leave.”

“Five,” she agreed, teasing right back, and Lan Huan didn’t even have to look to know Jiang Cheng’s face was a pleased flush. Fuck, but why did this hurt so much to hear? “They’ll riot, you know. Their fearless, never-takes-a-break boss actually leaving before closing?”

“I take breaks,” Jiang Cheng grumped in mock offense and Lan Huan had to set the rag down too, feeling it start to tear around his fingernails. “You make me sound like some heartless slave driver.”

“Not heartless,” she teased, getting a snort and what sounded like some swatting. She chuckled and then finally, finally her footsteps went back to the door. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng’s did too. “I’ll see you Saturday, Jiang Cheng. Be there or I’ll neuter you with a spoon.”

“Yes, yes, tell A-Yuan I’ll be there.” Fond, so fond, it made Lan Huan flush cold, a feeling he had never known. He’d known the numbness of anger and grief, for certain, but jealousy?

He didn’t know what to do except try to keep breathing, even as his chest constricted, even as his heart clenched so hard with something that felt too much like helpless grief. So what if Jiang Cheng smiled at her like she was the sun? They were close and they were allowed to be. So what if their closeness spoke of intimate things? Shouldn’t he be glad that someone saw Jiang Cheng as worth wanting the way he did now?

No, he realized with a sickened jolt. It wasn’t. Not when she was so blessedly normal and beautiful and could give Jiang Cheng a whole love, not just one wrapped in secrets.

Lan Huan was not used to feeling inadequate, but he felt it now, and didn’t know how to come back from it, nor compose himself, even as the chime over the door heralded her departure and the restarting of his alone time with the man he loved.

Gods, what would Jiang Cheng think, hearing such dark thoughts inside his head? He closed his eyes and forced in a deep, shaking breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth, as he’d been taught. One breath, two, three…

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Jiang Cheng commented beside him, startling him back to the present. His face was amused, but the edge of worry was creeping in, even under that adorably arched eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lan Huan did his best to smile, but he knew it fell far flat even before Jiang Cheng snorted at his failure.

“You are a terrible liar,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms now, and the words were an unexpected sting amidst the coil of black in his stomach. Oh, if only Jiang Cheng knew how wrong he was. If only he knew…

“I am,” Lan Huan agreed regardless, because he was failing at this. Tamping down the wave of cold was like trying to wrestle a dragon.

“A-Huan,” Jiang Cheng sighed and nudged him, then shook his head. “Is this about Wen Qing? The lady that was just in here.”

He knew that already, but Jiang Cheng didn’t know, and it was another hateful secret between them. “You two seem close,” he said, because it was true, and he needed some honesty here before he fell apart with lies.

“I’ve known her for years,” Jiang Cheng shrugged, though had gone a bit softer around his sharp edges again. Lan Huan hated that he couldn’t tell if it was for Wen Qing, or for he himself. “Made it to one date that I will never speak of again, so don’t even try. All you need to know is we’re friends and that she’s family now. So stop looking like the world’s poutiest murderer. She’s undeserving of any homicide plotting.”

It was meant as a tease, of course it was, but only made Lan Haun feel worse. Not that he’d ever been tasked to kill anyone, but he’d ruined so many lives in other ways, and his treacherous mind already knew what path it would take to ruin hers.

“I just…” He sighed, for once unable to put a voice or polite veil over what he was truly feeling. And perhaps that was for the best, he thought in some despair. Best Jiang Cheng see him for the petty fool he apparently was. “She makes you so happy…”

“She does, because she’s a friend,” Jiang Cheng said again, chuckling now, and reached out to take his hands. Lan Huan felt himself soften instantly, feeling the worked in callous of Jiang Cheng’s palms, so familiar now, a comfort. “Many people make me happy, even if I don’t seem like it. My sister, my nephews… hell, even Wei Ying, when he’s not being a total idiot.”

He leaned up on his tip toes then to kiss the side of his mouth, which had Lan Huan melting more even with his heavy heart. “I know… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for how you feel,” Jiang Cheng told him, firm on that, and slowly his untangled their fingers to wrap over Lan Huan’s shoulders, teasing in his hair. “And maybe I kinda like you jealous, even if it’s unwarranted. Just don’t act stupid or mean to her in the future and everything will be fine.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lan Huan promised, fingers sliding down Jiang Cheng’s hips, and swallowed hard at the smile he got for it.

“You’d better. I’m not saving you from her wrath,” Jiang Cheng huffed and leaned up again. This time, Lan Huan met him halfway and kissed him slow, though knew he was pulling him in a tad closer than was strictly necessary. Not that Jiang Cheng seemed to mind, if that chuckle was any indication.

“And for the record,” Jiang Cheng tacked on when they parted, forehead to forehead and gently swaying to the music and the peace of their world, “you make me happy too. Next time you feel this way, remember that, or come find me so I can tell you again. Deal?”

Lan Huan kissed him for that, finally finding a much better, truer smile, and knew he was utterly lost. “Deal.”