#i might be forgetting some context. it is rather late you see. please ask me questions about this! ;P

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[dragonmuse]

(I asked who I could give my hangover this morning to and the votes where:

@whatcantheharvesthopefor Eddy? …..Maybe Lucius depending on how exciting brunch was? …. oh!! See definitely The Swede after forgetting that coffee liquor ACTUALLY has alcohol in it & serving massive pitcher to the leadership team in a meeting….

@beautifulurbanarchitecture Lucius realizing he's not as young as he once was

why not both! This takes place closer to I Want to Sink to the Bottom in the timeline)

“I’m going to literally murder him,” Lucius moaned from the floor. He’d landed there in a kind of sodden thump after waking up on the velvet couch, its furry fabric having left an imprint on his cheek. 

“It did taste suspiciously good,” Stede was already at the kitchen table, but he was flattened against the surface, his mug of tea pressed against his forehead. 

“Stop yelling,” Eddy demanded. They had been coming down the stairs, but had stopped midway and were now just sitting on one step, looking queasy. 

“Ugh, where’s my husband?” Lucius muttered. 

Pete emerged from the downstairs bathroom a minute later, face damp and shirt missing. 

“Babe,” Pete said emphatically. “I think I just threw up my toenails.” 

“Please don’t say anything else,” Stede moaned. “I’m barely holding on as it is. What did he put in there?” 

“Forensic analysis suggests enough Kahlua, whiskey, and espresso-flavored vodka to fell stronger men than us,” Lucius said from the floor. 

Stede had decided that rather than be roped into judging the regional competition, the Revenge could start their own more local one with an emphasis on the talent portion of things. Last night had been the first planning meeting. Or would’ve been if the Swede hadn’t taken some creative liberties with the ‘perk up’ beverage.

It’d been pretty clear after the first round that the sweet concoction was fairly alcoholic, but combined with the late hour and the heated debate over how the competition should be structured, they’d all gone a second round. 

It should’ve just been Lucius, Eddy and Stede, but Pete had stuck around, unwilling to abandon Lucius for the night and also having an almost pathological need to offer advice for things he had almost no context for (he’d proudly never entered a pageant, dear man).  Also he kept topping up their mugs. 

“Who taught him to make Irish Coffee?” Eddy asked the room at large in a very accusatory manner. 

“You know it was me,” Lucius groaned. “But I didn’t teach him to make it so you didn’t know it was a weapon.” 

“I think I might just die,” Stede said speculatively. “Sorry, love, but you get the apartment and the bar.” 

“I don’t want it,” Eddy groaned. “We’ll just climb into the same grave.” 

“Dark,” Pete said brightly. “Babe, you want some alka-seltzar or something?” 

“Yes,” Lucius rolled over onto his side. “And to be twenty again. Please.” 

“I can do one of those things,” Pete laughed. 

“How are you so happy?” Eddy demanded. 

“Eh, once I vomit, I usually bounce back pretty fast. Anyone else want drug store cures?” 

“Does it work?” Stede mumbled. 

“Yes.” Lucius pushed up onto all fours, rocked there for a second then staggered to his feet. “Fuck.” 

“Good job,” Pete kissed his shoulder. “I’ll be back in ten, the pharmacy on the corner is probably open.” 

“Kay, thanks.” 

Lucius made it to the bathroom. It was touch and go, but his stomach settled without rebelling. He emptied his bladder, splashed water on his face, then accessed himself in the mirror. 

Then he ducked his head around the bathroom door, 

“Uh, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I think one of you gave me a hickey last night,” Lucius informed them. 

Eddy glared at him from the steps, “Yeah, your fucking husband probably.” 

“Yeah, no. Pete was out of makeup and I’ve got like a fuck ton of red lipstick on my neck.” 

“I was wearing pink, I think,” Stede ventured, pushing up from the table to blink owlishly at Eddy. “Right?” 

“I don’t fucking know,” Lucius groaned “You’re lucky I remember my name.” 

Eddy looked sightless into the void and then made a soft protesting sound, “Oh nooooo....” 

“You have sharp teeth, m’am,” Lucius informed her.

“Why?” they buried their face in their hands.

“Oh!” Stede blinked. “I remember! I think you bit him to make him stop talking.” 

“Hey!” Lucius protested. “...did you?”

“I...may have? It sounds familiar.” 

The triangle of conversation froze up for a minute, then Lucius began to laugh with a manic desperation. 

“What?” Stede stared at him. “It’s fine, you know. I mean, weird, but probably fine.” 

“Yeah, it doesn’t mean anything except the Swede is getting fired,” Eddy waved it away. 

“No...no, I am seeing Iz in like four hours,” Lucius said through gasps of laughter. “Do you think he’ll know?” 

“Oh fuuuuuuck,” Eddy lay backwards on the stairs. “Welp, there goes years of trying to repair our friendship. Forget firing him, I’m going to just murder the Swede.” 

“Lucius could lie?” Stede suggested, taking a sip of his tea than wincing.  

“How dare you suggest such a thing,” Lucius gasped. “Dishonor on your cow!” 

“My what?” 

“Maybe you should just call Izzy now and he can put me out of my fucking misery,” Eddy said speculatively to the ceiling. “That’d be okay. Kind of top of the list on how I want to go out anyway.” 

“Murdered?” Stede frowned. “Why?” 

“Eh, I always figured one of us would kill the other at some point. Granted, I thought we’d tabled that after we stopped carrying guns all the time, but hey, bring back the classics.” 

“You two are so fucked up,” Lucius said lightly. “Nah, it’ll be cool.” 

“Will it?” Stede asked.

“Yeah, no probably not, but we’ll work it out.” 

Pete returned as Lucius was finally having a cup of coffee. He had a bag from the pharmacy and a bit white paper bag. 

“Bagels,”  he explained. 

Everyone let out a ragged cheer. 

“Babe,” Lucius took a warm plain bagel, forwent spread and just took a bite. “Eddy gave me a hickey.” 

“Is that what happened?” Pete studied it. “Uh...you want me tell Izzy you’re too hungover to see him?” 

“For what? A month?” Lucius wrinkled his nose. “This thing is massive. Eddy why are your teeth so goddamn pointy? Were you trying to feed off my life force or something?” 

“I don’t remember!” Eddy protested, layering on cream cheese like their life depended on it. “I can’t be held accountable for this, I was drugged by a soon-to-be-dead Scandinavian” 

“You told them to go harder, Lucius. Something like 'is that supposed to tickle'. ” Stede pulled out an everything bagel, seeds flying everywhere. “I think you two were just egging each other on.” 

“That sounds upsettingly plausible,” Lucius grumbled. 

Food consumed, alka-seltzer drunk and humanity somewhat restored, Lucius and Pete made their way home, leaving Eddy and Stede to return to bed.  Pete and Lucius showered together, propping each other up for the most part. A nap and then one of John’s epic grilled cheeses got Lucius mostly to normal, just in time to go across town. 

He decided not to cover up the hickey. It would only make it more obvious anyway. 

Of course, Izzy zeroed in on it as soon as Lucius got into the apartment. Izzy was laying out on the couch, Sweeney on his chest when he walked in. 

“Who the fuck happened to you?” Izzy asked, tossing aside his reading glasses. 

“The Swede got us all very drunk,” Lucius crossed to him and for once, he was the one that went to his knees. “Please don’t be insane about this.” 

“....about what?” Izzy’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing! Probably, it’s a little hazy,” he admitted. “Uh. Eddy. Eddy happened to me. I think in some kind competitive way? I have no idea.” 

Izzy stared at him, then turned on his side, dislodging the cat, who sauntered off as if leaving had been his idea. Delicate fingers swept over the purple and red nightmare of a mark. 

“You let Eddy touch you?” 

“Apparently? I was very drunk. I’m...sorry? I guess. I don’t know if this is an apology situation,” he sighed. 

“Pup...” Izzy paused and Lucius considered running for the hills. Then Izzy started to laugh. “Only you, pup, only you.” 

“Hey,” Lucius grinned, relief coursing through him. “C’mon, that’s not true.” 

“It is,” Izzy laughed harder, resting his forehead against Lucius’. “You know this is your fucking fault somehow. I wasn’t even there and I know that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Lucius laughed with him. “It hurts like a bitch, they’re really a biter.” 

“Yep,” Izzy pressed his palm against the mark gently. “You want some witch hazel?” 

“Later. Right now, I just really want to suck your dick.” 

“Yeah?” Izzy’s laugh cut off abruptly. 

“Oh yeah,” Lucius shoved him back down onto the couch. “You know you laughing is a huge turn on for me. Fuck, it’s good. Stay down.” 

And if it was also a reward for reasonable behavior, that went unspoken. The mark really did take a week to heal and it was kind of worth not covering it up to see Eddy get squirmy and uncomfortable every time she spotted it.

[dancingisdangerouss]

I'm sorry but did that last anon just try and compare those authors writing about pedophilia to you writing The Grabber/Reader fics? The fics where you state in the tags that it's not romantic at ALL? That you've stated on your blog that you don't condone anything The Grabber or ANY serial killer does?

I absolutely love your work. Your fics are some of the best written fics I've come across. Dark theme fics are absolutely not comparable to blatant CP/pedophilia fics as most dark theme fic authors DO come out to say they don't condone what happens in them (as you have....last anon seemed to forget that).

Just boggles my mind people would rather harass dark theme fic writers instead of the literal adults writing about adult/child fics where there's an obvious romantic/sexual relationship going on 💀

^ These clowns are really this obvious about it

Hahaha I had to read it over twice like ?? Bruh you’re not doing yourself any favors with this ask lol. And I know, it’s pretty obvious to anyone with a quarter of a brain that Into The Black (literally, the title didn’t tip you off??) is not intended to be a romantic piece and is nowhere near where an ideal relationship is.

And if you somehow interpret my works as a good basis for a relationship and go, “oh now I want to go get kidnapped and tortured and raped and have my fantastic boyfriend brutally murdered in front of me while I’m raped in front of him, yeah, that’s what I want from a relationship,” then…sorry bud, you were doomed from the beginning.

Thank you so, so much! There are a lot of really good pieces out there so it makes me a flattered and happy to hear that 🥺🥺

And oh yeah, like my writing can go to some very dark places, but one thing I will never write is explicit child smut. If something sexually abusive happened to a child in my story, it would be heavily implied, not detailed out like a fucking child porno for drooling creeps to jack themselves off to. I really don’t see how you can compare something like that to my works.

In all honesty I think most people see a post about my work, automatically assume without context that I’m a rapist-loving, pedophilia-defending fucker who feels The Grabber was totally right to rape and beat children, and then read absolutely nothing else on my blog. If anyone actually took the time to read my posts and warnings, this might not be as much of an issue.

Agreed wholeheartedly, man. There are multiple fics on AO3 where they are blatantly romanticizing adult x minor relationships and making it seem romantic and cute, with people commenting about how adorable they are together. The numbers of people leaving kudos on those stories really concerns me, as someone who works with that population a lot 😬

Reminder that if you’re having thoughts about touching a minor, or if you’re getting off to works of fiction involving a minor having sex with an adult, please seek out help. You may have not done anything yet, and if so, you can still be a good person by getting the help before it’s too late, as you will eventually do something horrible to a child. Please don’t ignore it.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

The best thing happened at work today. I wanna share, both to encourage people they can do it & to appreciate the person who did it.

So....for context we put our pronouns on our work nametag (he/they). Most people ignore it & misgender us anyway (ma’am, miss, she 😣).

This older, grey haired man (best guess is he was 40s to late 50s) noticed our pronouns. Normally people ignore it, but he didn’t.

So we had this conversation:

~

Older Gentleman: *pauses to stare at our nametag & pronouns*

Us, internally: Oh no. Please don’t say something bigoted or painfully ignorant.

Older Gentleman: “So I have teenage kids and I’m new to learning this pronoun stuff...so, ¿how does that work?” *points at our nametag* “¿What does the ‘they’ do?” (/polite, curious)

Both of us: *awkward pause*

Older Gentleman: “Sorry. You don’t have to explain and I absolutely don’t want to be disrespectful.” (/insistently genuine, gentle)

Us: *blank stare, shy smile* “It’s okay. I’d rather you ask and make the effort to be respectful.” (/srs)

Us: “Use them interchangeably. Use both, back and forth.” (/srs)

Older Gentleman: “Okay.”

Both of us: *quiet pause*

Older Gentleman: “So ¿did you use he/him before? ¿What were your original pronouns?” (/gentle & curious, fidgety like a curious little kid)

Us, after an uncomfortable pause (deciding to be honest but not say it explicitly): “I don’t use my original pronouns.” *shrug*

Older Gentleman, understanding that implies it was she/her & not asking further: “Okay.” *appreciative, apologetic smile*

Both of us: *awkward pause again*

Me, deciding I feel comfortable to explain: “I’m nonbinary - not entirely man or woman.” (/srs, tentative & hopeful)

Older Gentleman: *nods* “Okay. While I’m learning [and might forget to use they], ¿which binary pronoun is more comfortable?” (/genuine, srs, curious)

Us: *blink of surprise* “He/him.”

Older Gentleman: “¡Okay! I’ll use he.” (/genuine, srs)

~

He went on to order food very politely & patiently, & when he gestured the two people with him to order (“he’s ready, it’s your turn”; “tell him what you want”) he correctly gendered us. He didn’t demand why we changed our pronouns & didn’t say anything bigoted.

??? 🥺💚

That's the most respectful & polite way to handle something like that. And it completely made our day (/srs, genuine). We’d been at work since 6am, up since 5am, & it was 2pm (we had a 9.5hr shift), & we were exhausted & in pain (& dysphoric from getting misgendered all day). But that respectful interaction that took him maybe 5 minutes had us smiling, more energetic, & with a little bounce in our step for the rest of our shift.

Honestly I’d rather be asked by everyone how to use our pronouns correctly & how to best respect us than deal with another person who sees our pronouns, decides not to ask, & uses she/her anyway. He even asked some borderline uncomfortable questions, & I still felt safer around him overall than most of our customers.

So please, if you feel confident enough for a second, ask. Your server, the customer service employee you talk to, the retail worker, that intimidating goth person who wears spikes, we are all people worthy of respect. If you’re unsure how to use a pronoun, ask. But don’t shame someone for not using pronouns you expect &/or are already familiar with.

On that note I’m gonna keep smiling like a little kid who found a dollar (/lighthearted, poking a little fun at myself). I adore that man & hope he becomes a regular or semi regular customer. 🥰

~Nico (he/they; co-host, protector)

[helpinghanikan]

I know it’s late

Viktor Vector x V 

Sum: It's raining in Night City and V's too tired to make it home. Luckily the Doctor is in.

AN:  Straight up a fluffy one shot about Viktor letting V crash in the same bed for a night. IDK how to write that in fancy summary talk.

Night City smells like shit when it rains. The old sewage system was kept together through around the clock droids with welders and so much industrial tape the rings could be counted to tell the pipe’s age. Even then, an influx of liquid pushed those old pipes to the limit.

The same could be said for Night City’s best ripperdoc: held together through around the clock maintenance and industrial tape taking the form of coffee. Even then he went to bed with a sore back and a funny smell. The apartment’s shower (which had the pressure of a watering can) did little to help. By the time he crawls in bed the entire outside will smell as bad as it is, and he’ll place those extra thick windows in his online cart.

For now, those thinner windows were vulnerable. People around here knew the friendly ‘doc living above the spiritual chick’s shop and didn’t want to risk the community’s wrath by messing with him. But that didn’t stop Misty, living on the other side of the hallway, from chaining up the bottom entrance.

But there are still no guarantees those two things will stop everyone. The intense rain, and just how deeply Viktor sleeps, there wasn’t a chance he’d hear the window slide open from the top. That he didn’t stir at a full-grown adult landing on his floor was his own fault, especially when that person is soaking and stomping across the tile floor to the bed.

“Vik…” the intruder whispers. Smart enough to wake him from the end of his bed, gently grabbing his ankles, rather than near his arms and hands. Where his most skilled weapons are. “Viktor.” They say a bit more firmly.

The bed is not prepared for sudden movement. Creaking louder than any yell Viktor could make as he shot up, sitting straight up with a hand locked into a fist. Legs pulled up and away from the intruder while he tries to figure out what the Hell is going on.

“It’s V,” The intruder says, hands up to show they weren’t dangerous. “it’s me V, don’t hit me.”

Viktor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Reaching over to the side table for his glasses. That he still used them rather than getting some chrome was his way of reminding the world of its greatest humor: Irony.

“Hi V,” He says with a stretch, shock from the B&E leaving him awake. “You know, there’s this great new invention called a phone. You can use it to call people, send messages, have you heard of it?”

“I broke it.” They said, hands falling to their sides in an slap against their soaked legs.

Viktor has seen V in almost every state imaginable. With blood and puke, limbs barely attached by muscle and wires, and naked without a single stitch. In both the medical and intimate context of form.

He’s seen V like this too; shivering and too tired to even stand without moving into a wider stance, even then wavering on their feet. Viktor stands, taking the few steps to be in V’s space; his bare hand tucked under V’s arm, snug in the armpit to keep them from falling straight off their feet, and to keep them from making a too easy escape. With his other he held V’s head. Tilting it back just enough for the light of the window to catch their face. Aside for groans at being manhandled there were only a few bruises on them.

“I’m not hurt or nothin’,” V says. “Just real fuckin’ tired. Lost all my stuff in the water and I can’t make it back. Viktor, please.”

A mental note was made to drag out what exactly happened to V later. For now, he lets them go. They could talk all they want about Viktor’s being closer, or being too tired or any other excuse but, in reality, a warm body sleeping close by was an underrated privilege. Something V has abused time and time again, not that Viktor has ever complained. Afterall, it was never discussed what exactly “friend’s with benefits” actually covered.

“Lose the wet clothes first.” Viktor says, as if he wasn’t participating in the stripping. Rolling up and removing V’s shirt and pants with the professionalism of any worthwhile ripperdoc.

Viktor’s plan was to get some older clothes for his guest. One of the tees from back in the day, a pair of shorts that, although itchy, would at least give the impression of modesty (so long as they didn’t try moving in it). He didn’t even make it to the dresser before V flopped, face first, onto the bed. Right over the unclaimed side without even thinking about covers or modesty.

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” Viktor says, waiting a few seconds for a response. When he doesn’t get one he sighs, getting to work in moving dead weight that groans at being bothered in the slightest.

With V tucked in (and his once clean sheets now smelling like old pipes) Viktor joined. Like a heat seeking missile V finds him in the mess of thick quilts and sheets. Although their arms are moist, and hair is wet Viktor doesn’t do anything to avoid being pulled into them. Being rewarded for his submission with a smiley kiss on his cheek and a leg sliding between his. A silent promise for more entertaining activities later in the night if the chance arises.

The chance never arose.

Instead, V slept through the entire night with minimal twitching. Even through Viktor’s snoring which has been described as “the closest thing to a chainsaw I’ve ever heard,” by V after only two nights together. Apparently long enough for V to forget about the romantic manners that involve ignoring your partner’s quirks.

Only knitted eyebrows showed that V heard the alarm. Quickly turned off with an, slightly overly aggressive, grab by Viktor. Try as he might, Viktor could not slip out from the bed without seeing those eyebrows knit again.

“What time…What?” V asks the empty space when Viktor finally escapes.

V has been described in many ways by many different people: As monstrous with blood in their hair and a hot weapon in their hands. Or as sexy with an opened mouth smile and heaving chest, both hands on Viktor’s shoulders to keep in down. V has even been called pitiful while bleeding on the ground, yelling curses even on the verge of tears and defeat. But now with a quilt over their head like a hood, slow blinking eyes, and a tired voice? They were downright adorable.

“Go back to sleep,” Viktor says, leaning forward on the bed. Catching V’s chin and leading them forward in a chaste kiss. “I’m going to the clinic.”

“Sorry, I’m getting up.” V says in that same tired voice.

Viktor’s hand slid around V’s jaw and to the back of their neck. Giving another kiss matched with a groan to get their attention. “V, sleep.” He orders in his own low voice.

V laid back down with a smile on their face. If it were anyone else they would have forced themselves awake, yawning and flipping off whoever dared tell them to do something. But it was Viktor, with Viktor’s voice, so down they went. Gone from the waking world before Viktor had finished dressing.

In a few hours V would walk by. “Catch you later, Viktor,” They’d say in passing. Mostly dressed but for their shirt. Purposefully waiting to be in Viktor’s office (hopefully alone, but witnesses were welcome) before pulling it down. An action asking for attention but still disguised as casual. Also a promise that, like many times before, V will pay him back.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

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

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

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

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

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

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[sonnetthebard]

if it's not too much to ask, could i request a continuation to the jane/linda switched at birth story? 😅

Absolutely! Y'all really like this, don't you?

Genre: Drama/ Fluff?

Words: 1588

TL;DR: Linda accidentally ends up telling Emma about he and Jane being switched at birth

TW: Swearing

Side note: if anyone has ideas/ sketches to elaborate on this headcanon... please do them and tag me. I wanna see them. I mean I’m kinda loving it.

______________________________________________________

Linda sipped at her coffee, sitting at one of the small tables in Beanies. She let her legs dangle a bit, blowing on her coffee to close it. For once it was piping hot. That probaby had something to do with the fact that she was now rather close with Emma Perkins, the barista who had made it. Jane's sister- her sister. And god, could she ever see it. How could her sister ever work in a cafe though? The cafe had technically closed about five minutes ago, but... the manager, Nora, was letting her and Emma Perkins stay a bit longer to have a chat alone. Emma sighed, bringing over her latte and siitting down with Linda.

"Your coffee okay?" Emma checked. "I know the coffee here isn't too great, but... I tried to make it a bit better. I put a pump of hazelnut in there, and-"

"It's wonderful. Thank you." Linda cut her off, sighing. "Was it a good day at work today?"

"Eh, same old same old." Emma chuckled. "People are assholes sometimes."

"Tell me about it." Linda scoffed, smirking. "Any fun stories?"

"Well... this one guy tried to actually make me *sing* for my tip." Emma rolled her eyes. "Because Nora mentioned while he as at the counter that she'd seen a cafe in god-knows-where doing it."

"Did you actally have to sing?" Linda winced.

"God, no." Emma snickered. "Listen, it's no official rule yet. There's no sign, and therefore Nora can't make me."

"Thank god." Linda laughed along with her.

"Hey!" Emma mocked offence. "I'll have you know that I'm a pretty great singer!"

"Really?" Linda quirked a brow, smirking.

"Oh yeah! I played Fiona in my high school production of Brigadoon." Emma smirked back, putting on the scottish accent for 'Brigadoon'. "I'm not really into theatre any more, but... I fucking killed that role."

"Interesting..." Linda sighed, just taking a look at Emma again.

Sometimes when Emma brought up these significant memories Linda couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt. Because... she was this girl's older sister. She should have been there toshare those kinds of important moments with her. Not... not phony Jane Perkins. Who wasn't her sister. She liked Emma. A lot. Sure, Emma's life might be a bit grittier than her own, but... they had the same spunk. The same wit. Emma's was slightly less refined, and maybe a bit more crude, but it was there. In a lot of ways, it was like looking in a mirror. Both in looks and personality. That was, of course, if she had been a brunette.

"Hey, Linda, I've been meaning to ask you something." Emma bit her lip.

"Hm?" Linda hummed, indicating for her to go on.

"Why... why the sudden interest in me?" Emma asked carefully. "I mean, not that I don't love getting to actually get to know you- because you're great- but... I don't know. You're... you. You're rich, and your life is fabulous. And I'm me. A thirty-year-old barista at fucking Beanies."

"Well... I suppose I just felt drawn to you." Linda lied.

"Okay, no offence, but... bullshit." Emma sighed. "That's total bullshit! There's gotta be a reason."

"I simply noticed you at work, and... you reminded me of myself." Linda told her, inching closer to the truth.

"Really?" Emma blinked.

"You did... and you do. More and more with every second I spend with you." Linda nodded.

"But like... I know I'm repeating myself, but you're, like, fabulous. And I'm... me." Emma furrowed her brows.

"We've got the same spirit." Linda chuckled. "The same... spunk, if you will. The fire, and the sarcasm. We're peas in a pod."

"Is the sarcasm really that obvious just by looking at me?" Emma smirked.

"In the best way possible." Linda teased. There was a beat of silence between them as both sipped at their coffees.

"So... there was nothing more?" Emma checked.

"No... no, only that you're my sister." Linda sighed. A moment later she realized what she'd said.

"Pardon?" Emma blinked.

"I meant soul sister... sorry, it’s been a long day.” Linda chuckled nervously, hoping that would work.

"Okay, I would've believed that if you hadn't said anything, but... now that you've said it, it sounds so sketchy." Emma shook her head, stunned and suspicious. "What do you mean I'm your sister?"

"It's nothing. I misspoke." Linda blushed, looking to her feet.

"You're lying." Emma stated plainly. "I'm a little sister and a trouble maker. I read body language."

"Emma..." Linda pleaded, a pit in her stomach. She'd never meant to tell Emma. She had planned never to tell any of them.

"No, Linda. I want some fucking aswers." Emma demanded.

"No, you don't." Linda warned her. "Believe me... things will be a lot better if you just forget what I said.”

“No... Linda, you just called me your sister and then completely eliminated the ‘she’s jus being friendly’ context from the situation.” Emma stammered, clearly freaked out. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Fine.” Linda relented. “I didn’t want to tell you because... it’s fucked up, Emma. It really is. And it’s nothing I did, but... I still feel immensely guilty.”

“Just get to the fucking explanation!” Emma urged. 

“My parents- the people who raised me- paid a nurse off to switch me and your sister as babies... It was silly, really. They wanted a natural blonde baby.” Linda sighed. “All of that to say... Jane was never your biological sister. I was.”

“What the fuck...” Emma breathed, eyes wide. 

“That’s what I said when I read it in their financial files.” Linda sighed. She gave Emma a sympathetic look. “Now do you see why I didn’t want to say anything?”

“Um... yeah.” Emma nodded, still trying to take it in. “You’re my sister?”

“We can’t tell anyone, Emma.” Linda warned her. 

"Right...” Emma agreed. 

“It would cause too much of a fuss.” Linda sighed.

“Yeah...” Emma sighed. “So... what, did you start up this friendship because you felt guilty that your parents were heartless assholes who dumped their problem on my parents?”

“No. I did it because... if I had a sister, I wanted to know her. Even if she couldn’t know what she was to me.” Linda explained. “But... now you do, I suppose.”

“Yeah... I do...” Emma blinked. 

“Please... don’t be too mad at me?” Linda pleaded. “I genuinely just wanted to-”

“No, I’m not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.” Emma assured Linda. “Just... God. I always knew there was something fucking weird about Jane.”

“Really?” Linda quirked a brow. 

“Yeah... yeah, not even my parents understood where she got all the ambition and cunning from.” Emma nodded. “She was like... a total Slytherin. And I was very clearly a burnt-out Gryffindor. I mean, I’ve gone a little more Slytherin with my sarcasm over the years, but...”

“I’m sorry, a what?” Linda asked, confused. “Slithering?”

“Like... Hogwarts houses.” Emma checked. Linda stared blankly at her. “Oh my god... tell me my big sister knows what Hogwarts is...”

“I’m...” Linda started, before blinking. “Big sister?”

“Well, yeah... if you were switched with Jane, you’re my big sister.” Emma shrugged. 

“So... we’re alright, then?” Linda blinked. “Just like that?”

“Well... yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Emma chuckled. “Look, it’s a lot to get used to, but... you’ve pretty much handled everything right. And... I really appreciate that once you found out, you wanted me in your life.”

“And I want you to know that I really did make an effort to get to know you right when I found out.” Linda assured her. “I only discoved it when I was going through my parents’ financials while planning their funeral.”

“Yeah, I can get why they would never tell you.” Emma sighed. “I mean... god. That was terrible. No offence but... they kinda sound like terrible people.”

“Well... just like Jane, they were very ambitious.” Linda bit her lip. “And they had a weird thing about keeping the blonde hair in the family.”

“They sound like the Malfoys.” Emma whistled. 

“The who?” Linda asked, not recognizing that name.

“Right. You don’t know Harry Potter.” Emma remembered. “Okay, you know what? I think Paul’s at D&D with the boys from work tonight, so I’ve got the house to myself. You should come over, and we’ll watch as many of those movies as we can cram in.”

“Oh... okay.” Linda agreed. “Harry Potter... that sounds familiar.”

“It’s kinda a huge thing.” Emma chuckled. “You’re free, right?”

“Gerald’s taking the boys night golfing tonight, so yes.” Linda smirked. “Is this going to make me finally seem like a cool mom to my boys?”

“Probably.” Emma smirked back. “Alright... do you need a drive to my place?”

“I would appreciate one.” Linda nodded, following Emma out the door. 

Perhaps that day staying late at a mediocre coffee shop had been the start of something beautiful. Or perhaps it had already started before. It was, at least, the day that Linda and Emma fully embreaced their sisterhood. And it really was only the beginning of their story. They would continue to blossom and grow together, and navigate what whas a confusing but worthwhile journey. It’s funny how sometimes you don’t know how much you need something until it’s handed to you. That sentiment couldn’t be any truer than it was with the two new sisters. Emma was precisely what Linda had always needed, and Linda what Emma needed. Finally, at long last, they could embrace that. 

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 10x02 - While My Guitar Gently Weeps (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to - Munich, Germany. Elena is in one of the lab morgues. She is leaning against the freezers, writing in her diary.

 Dear Diary,

Today will be different. I will start fresh. Be someone new. New year, new life, new diary. I’ve come all this way, thanks to my father, but I need to step out of his shadow, and make it on my own. I have to stop doubting myself… As that cute guy Sam told me, I was chosen for a reason. It’s time I start believing in myself and become the Elena Gilbert I always wanted to be. Away from Mystic Falls, the drama, the supernatural, the pain…  

But, just between us, I feel like something is off… I mean, I’m glad to feel different, it’s just that in a weird way, I don’t feel quite like myself… Maybe it’s because the nightmares have come back… They are so vivid, as if I were living through it once more. The freezing water, the air escaping my lungs, the despair of knowing they were with me. That horrible feeling, over and over again… I thought I had healed, as much as one can heal from something like that, but I can still feel her hand slipping away… At times I think my dad blames me for letting her go. If he only knew the real reason both of us survived, maybe he wouldn’t resent it so much. Regardless, I will forever be thankful to Stefan for saving us that night. Although he still blames himself for not being able to save my mother, there was nothing anyone could have done.

Okay, enough about the past, I need to move on, build a new life for myself, and maybe, even find a new love… No vampires this time! Whatever comes, I’m living my life to the fullest! Letting myself be free… No fear, no guilt, no insecurities… Project Munich, here I come!

 Suddenly, she hears a noise. If it weren’t coming from one of the freezer drawers, she wouldn’t be startled, but since it clearly is, her heart starts pounding. She approaches cautiously… 

Before she can even grab the handle, the drawer slams open…

SAM: Boo!

ELENA: Oh my god, Sam?! You scared me half to death!

SAM: (Smirking) Good thing it was just half way. Wouldn’t want you dying on me.

ELENA: Well, what if I had a heart condition?! I could have!

SAM: A heart condition, or died?

ELENA: Well, both… But you know what I mean! You are so weird!

SAM: This coming from the girl leaning against body freezers in the middle of the night…

ELENA: At least I wasn’t lying in one of them like some kind of zombie!

SAM: It’s surprisingly relaxing…

ELENA: (Mocking) Being a zombie or lying in the freezers?

SAM: I suppose, both… (they crack up).

ELENA: Anyway, what are you doing here?

SAM: I like to come here to think… It’s quiet. You?

ELENA: Same… Guess we’re a couple of weirdos…

SAM: A little eccentric is all. (They smile in complicity). I will confess though; I do have an alternative motive…

ELENA: Oh, god. Please don’t tell me you are a psycho killer. I’ve dealt with enough of those…

SAM: I’m not going to ask why, but I do want to ask you something…

ELENA: (With a suspicious face) Uhm, okay… what?

SAM: Do you like picnics?

ELENA: That question isn’t helping your psycho case… But, yeah, I do. Why?

SAM: How about you and me, tomorrow… Wine and cheese in the main garden?

ELENA: (Kittenish) Are you asking me on a date?

SAM: Depends… is it a yes, or a no?

ELENA: Depends… is it red wine, or white?

SAM: Red, of course! What kind of a psycho drinks white wine?

ELENA: Plenty… And, you literally just met me, so there is a risk I might actually be one of them.

SAM: (Flirtatious smirk) I’m willing to take the risk, if you are…

ELENA: What the hell! Life is too short to play it safe.

SAM: I like the way you think. It’s a date then!

ELENA: It’s a date.      

SAM: Huh, I totally thought that was going to fail…

ELENA: You never know until you try, right?

SAM: (Smiles) I guess you don’t… Listen, it’s really late, do you want me to walk you to your dorm? I know this place is infested with military, but what if you run into a ghost? Pretty sure they would be clueless about how to handle that.

ELENA: (Laughs) Neither would you. But, you are not nearly as scary as they are, so I’d rather take my chances with you.

SAM: (Teasing) I happen to be a paranormal aficionado; I know how to handle a ghost.

ELENA: Oh, really?

SAM: I’ve seen all Ghost Busters movies a million times! I know what I’m doing!

ELENA: (Sarcastic) A Ghost Busters fanboy, that’s very comforting… (As they are walking out) Oh! And don’t think that just because I agreed to go on a date with you, I won’t get you back for the near heart attack you gave me … I happen to be a real horror movie aficionada; better watch your back…

Cut to – Mystic Falls Town Hall. Matt has been officially sworn in to take office as the new Mayor of Mystic Falls. Although he is worried about Edward’s abrupt decision, especially knowing the context behind his un-rational behavior, he can’t help but feel proud. This is what he had wanted all his life. And, given Edward’s current psychological condition, this decision was probably for the best.

 COUNCIL SPEAKER: Mayor Donovan, I speak on behalf of all my colleagues, we welcome you to this body of representatives with open arms, and ensure you that you have our full support, respect, and commitment.

MATT: It is my honor to have been entrusted with this duty. I will work day and night to rightfully serve our town, my home town. I will forever be grateful to Mayor Powell for believing in me, and giving me the opportunity to give back to the people that have built this town from scratch. In my first order of duty, I hereby announce the newly appointed Chief of Police, Sheriff Jackson. A woman of honor, courage and morals. I am certain she will serve this town with honor, loyalty, truth, knowledge and commitment. Please, give her a round of applause.  

SHERIFF JACKSON: Thank you, Mayor Donovan. I wear the badge with pride. I am humbled and honored to be given this responsibility. Trust that my team and I will follow the example you gave to us, and will serve and protect this community with the same passion and commitment you did. We might be in different offices now, but we will always be family.  

MATT: Always! Thank you, Sherriff Jackson. I have no doubt that you will surpass both mine and my predecessor’s accomplishments. In closing, I’d like to say that although we face many challenges ahead, I’m confident that we can overcome any obstacle by working together, always prioritizing people. Mystic Falls is a town built by its citizens, for its citizens. It is our duty to ensure the wellness and prosperity of all. Once again, thank you. Time to get to work! (They applaud).

Cut to – The Mikaelson mansion. Abby and Klaus are talking about Hope settling-in at the Salvatore School, among other things.

 ABBY: Hope looked so happy... And her dorm room is amazing! At the main house and a single! How lucky was she!

KLAUS: I had to “persuade” Alaric to make sure she was given the best accommodations.

ABBY: (Smiles) I’m sure you did…  

KLAUS: And how is Bonnie settling in her new home? I honestly cannot comprehend how she could voluntarily agree to spend day and night with Damon Salvatore. Are we certain he is not compelling her?

ABBY: (Smirks) You know he can’t, although I kind of wish that was the reason (they laugh). From what she told me this morning; the house is beautiful. Guess we’ll have to wait and see, if she ever invites us over.

KLAUS: She will, love, give her some time. They just moved in together, they need their privacy.  (Suddenly, the door opens, in come Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Freya, Marcel, and Danae, suitcases and all). Uhm, excuse me, what is this unexpected visit about? Our family reunion isn’t until spring…

ELIJAH: Lovely to see you too, brother. Do pardon if our sudden arrival interrupts your tea time, but we are in a bit of a pickle. We have been cursed out of New Orleans; and, the last time I checked, this was also our home.

KLAUS: I am gone, for not even a month, and you somehow manage to get yourselves thrown out of what is rightfully ours? How exactly did that come to be?

MARCEL: Why don’t you ask Kol…

KOL: Oh, come on, Marcellus, it’s as much your fault as it is mine. And, don’t act so innocent, Elijah. You had your hand in this too.

ELIJAH: (Fixing his cufflinks) Maybe a little…

REBEKAH: While you boys decide who is to blame, I’ll go settle down in my bedroom.

KLAUS: You can’t. We turned it into a games room.

REBEKAH: (Indignant) Excuse me?!! How dare you!? Why my room?! Why not Elijah’s or Kol’s!?

KLAUS: Yours was better fitted for the purpose. Nothing personal, love.

REBEKAH: Oh, I’m sure it wasn’t… (Turns to Abby) And definitely nothing to do with you, right?

ABBY: (Sarcastic) Of course not, I wouldn’t dare! This was all him!

KLAUS: (Smirks) Traitor…  Anyhow, dear sister, there are plenty of other rooms you can choose from.

REBEKAH: Whatever. I’ll go find myself a room you two haven’t ruined, yet.

FREYA: I’m coming with. You people forget I’ve never been in this house!

DANAE: Really? I thought you had. I mean, even I have stayed here.

FREYA: And, thanks for rubbing that in, my love.

DANAE: No ill intentions, hon. I’m just surprised.

FREYA: (Sarcastic) Guess being a Mikaelson didn’t grant me the privilege, but being Klaus’s best friend’s girlfriend sure did.

KLAUS: Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sister. You are here now, are you not?

REBEKAH: Forget him, sis, this is our house too. We’ll give you the grand tour. Once we get dibs on the best rooms (they leave).  

KLAUS: So, dear brothers, care to explain to me exactly how you got yourselves into this “pickle”?

ELIJAH: We will. But we are going to need something stronger than tea…

ABBY: Oh, it’s not tea. We just pretend it is, so we don’t feel like we are day drinking.

KOL: Who cares about that! We are vampires, love; we can do whatever we want!

KLAUS: KLAUS: (Sarcastic) My loving brother Kol, can we please go back to the topic at hand? I’d like to know exactly how long I can expect to have you all around.

ELIJAH: It is going to be a while…

MARCEL: If not forever.

KOL: (Mocking) Look on the bright side, Marcellus, you’ll have time to get to know Mystic Falls. Despite what some believe, it is quite the charming little town… And, our home sweet home, for now… Better get used to it.

Cut to – Pietro’s mansion. Him and Darius are having a “secret” con-call after their board meeting.

 PIETRO: I’ve had just about enough. We need to retaliate for this. You didn’t see the aftermath, this place looked like a slaughterhouse.

DARIUS: Courtesy of your ripper brother, I presume?

PIETRO: Not sure which one of them did it, or if it was the three of them, but I had to get a professional cleaner.

DARIUS: You should really consider getting video surveillance, clears these types of doubts right up.

PIETRO: Never, those things give me all sorts of peeping Tom vibes. Anyway, I’m sorry about your witch friends, I’ll make it up to you.

DARIUS: I warned you not to play games. Now we’ve lost a coven of very talented witches, three potential recruits; we are clueless as to where the others are, and made the rest of the board members believe everything was going according to plan… (Sarcastic) Kudos!

PIETRO: Don’t you dare give me attitude about this, you have messed up worse than I have.

DARIUS: True; fair enough. Let’s not enter into panic mode, it’s a minor misstep. We’ll find them soon enough. In the meantime, as per Augustus’s orders, it seems like I have to find a replacement for Kai…

PIETRO: That was certainly an unexpected surprise. I thought he would be pleased with his progress.

DARIUS: I’m beginning to think Augustus feels threaten, more so after I shared Kai’s recent achievements.

PIETRO: Did you sense something was off with him during the call?

DARIUS: Well, the Augustus I know would have had Kai killed if he wanted him out of the game, not fired.

PIETRO: And it’s strange that he was willing for this Tamara thing to take more time, as long as Kai was off the task.

DARIUS: (Teasing) Maybe he’s starting to like his hostage situation; Stockholm syndrome type of thing?

PIETRO: (Smirks) Perhaps… Regardless, both Kai and Katerina would have been excellent for the field battle; they have stamina, and are surely gifted in terms of the supernatural.  

DARIUS: I know. But there are plenty of fish in the sea. From what Veritas showed us with the Munich project, and the “gadgets I’ve been working on with Kai, soon we might have even stronger pawns to play around with.

PIETRO: Hey, I had a lot to do with the Munich project. I’m not letting him take all the credit! I led that project for years, set all the ground work, and the money.

DARIUS: Don’t be so defensive, my friend. We all know you did an excellent job. But, you have to give him some credit, Veritas is hardcore when it comes to discipline. As soon as he brought in the military, voilà!

PIETRO: (Snarky) His leading style borders on dictatorship, I prefer a motivational approach.

DARIUS: I’m with you on that. He sure as hell can scare the shit out of anyone into doing anything. Just ask Aletheia…

PIETRO: He is the oldest vampire in existence, and a psychic one, nonetheless; of course he can. I’m not ashamed to admit it; he has almost made me “piss my pants” once or twice.

DARIUS: I can say the same. You know, it’s truly fascinating that the so called “Originals” are oblivious to the fact about their true origins… I’m sure Veritas would have a blast with them, if they ever manage to figure it out.

PIETRO: Oh, I’m sure they will, if not for their wits, definitely once our plans unfold.

DARIUS: I call dibs on first row seats!

PIETRO: I want the full behind the scenes experience! (They laugh).

DARIUS: Well, I have to run now. I need to go fire my star employee and the Russian spy…

PIETRO: Good luck. We’ll talk soon.

Cut to – The Bamon home. The gang is in the “Batcave” planning their next move.

SAGE: (Starting to worry about Pietro’s retaliation for their escape). We are 100% sure this place can’t be found, right? I’m not very familiar with the witch stuff; or the vampire stuff for that matter; I’m a newbie.

BONNIE: Don’t worry, there is no way anyone can find it.

SAGE: Not even that Darius guy?

BONNIE: Especially not him.

SAGE: Can’t they track your cellphones?

BONNIE: Not while the house is cloaked. Beauty of magic.

SAGE: This magic stuff is really cool!

BONNIE: You ain’t seen nothing yet… But, fair warning, it can get a little weird…

CAROLINE: (Teasing) Just a little? (They laugh)  Don’t worry, you are in good hands.

SAGE: Sorry; freaked out for a moment… Pietro can be quite vicious when he’s angry, and I’m sure he’s fuming right about now.

DAMON: Don’t be scared, Stefan and I got years on him. Now, back to the mission at hand. How are we going to break into this place without Kai?

STEFAN: What if we give our brother a taste of his own medicine? He can be our way in.

DAMON: I love when your mind goes devious, brother. What exactly are you thinking of?

STEFAN: There is an upside to having an Original vampire in town, and one who just happens to be in love with Bonnie’s mom… I’m betting he’ll do just about anything to get on your good side, Bon.  

BONNIE: Stefan, you are a genius! 

And, he does owe me big time! But, let’s avoid the whole “being in love with Bonnie’s mom” thing; still freaks me out.

STEFAN: Not another word on that, Bon.

DAMON: Ah, blackmail, deceit, and compulsion, my kind of tactics!

BONNIE: I’ll call my mom to invite them over for dinner, then we’ll guilt trip them into their part of the plan.

SAGE: Bit lost again, what’s an Original vampire?

CAROLINE: Oh, Sage. There is so much for you to learn about the vamp world. Stick with us, and you’ll learn everything you need to know.

SAGE: That would be amazing! Been pretty much self-taught since I was turned, which was literally just weeks ago.

CAROLINE: I know firsthand how important it is to have a mentor when you are new at this. We got your back.

SAGE: Thank you, I’ll take all the help I can get.

CAROLINE: We’ll help you with the supernatural, you’ll help us with the Science; win, win. The sooner we get these guys, the sooner we can go back to our normal lives.

SAGE: Deal! To be honest, I was thinking about fleeing back to Germany the moment I got away from Pietro’s claws. Forget all this craziness and just return to being a student, with a new blood craving. But I think academia is pumped up to be more than it really is. What good are all the fancy titles without being on the battle ground? I’ve done my fair share of studying, it’s time I apply my knowledge for the common good, and this seems like the perfect cause to do so. Now that we know they are okay; I have no reason to go back. (Turns to Bonnie and Damon) Don’t panic, I’m not planning to stay here. As soon as we take care of this, I’m going back home to NYC; I really miss it.

BONNIE: (Smiles) We’re not panicking. And you can stay here for as long as you need.

CAROLINE: Okay, just so we are all aligned. We’ll get Klaus to compel Pietro, but how exactly are we going to get to Pietro? We can’t have Klaus show up at his house and be like: hello, I’m going to compel you now…

STEFAN: We’ll make sure he’s alone and lure him outside. Then Klaus, Damon and I, will take it from there. Three against one, should be a piece of cake.

DAMON: Sounds like a plan. Now, on to a crucial matter. (Turns to Bonnie) First time having my mother-in-law over for dinner, what should be the menu?

BONNIE: (Smirks) Whatever you want will be perfect.

DAMON: How about Italian? Play it safe...

BONNIE: Ooh, gnocchi arrabbiata?

DAMON: Perfetto!

CAROLINE: (Giddy) Aw, I love domestic Bamon!

DAMON: Don’t think you are just going to stand and watch, you are all helping!

The only one that gets a free pass is Bonnie, she has somewhere to go.

BONNIE: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that…

CAROLINE: Bon, are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?

BONNIE: I’m sure. Thank you, Care. I’m gonna head out now before it gets late. I won’t be long (kisses Damon). 

I love you...

DAMON: I love you too. Head message me if you need anything.

BONNIE: I will (she leaves).

STEFAN: (To Damon) Are you okay?

DAMON: I’ll be fine when I know she’s fine…

CAROLINE: I still can’t believe he’s back! He better have a damn good explanation, otherwise I’m going to send him right back where he came from!

DAMON: You and me both, Blondie... 

Alright, I need to keep my mind busy, so let’s get to work. Making gnocchi is a mission on its own!

 TVD 10x02 (part 2) coming soon. Hope you stop by, read, and enjoy! =)

[azrielsribbon]

I have always wanted to talk about the topic of Nesta, and how certain things led up to her clear signs of depression and ptsd, has been talked about a lot lately (as it should).

So after seeing lots of amazing discussions (from many amazing people such as @stardustsroses & @nestaarcher0n) I’ve gathered up my confidence, thought a lot, and here’s my spiel on her current situation and how her upbringing made her into the Nesta we know today. More specifically, the possible impact of her mother.

Nesta has gone through a lot. We cannot expect her to just change her attitude after she went through the events of the war and saw her own father get decapitated. She can’t even go in a bath without having horrid flashbacks for gods sake.

She isn’t going to cope the same way her sisters did. Forcing her to interact with a type of people she has feared her whole life isn’t going to help. Especially putting her in the mountains with a male that is possibly her mate.

Before I start, yes, she’s mooching off of Feyre even if she isn’t living with the Circle, yes she puts her heavy bar payment on their tab but Elain doesn’t have a job either. Let’s not forget Elain Archeron when we talk about Feyre and Nesta. Just because she’s sweet doesn’t mean she isn’t in the wrong.

The mortal worlds have always feared the fae. You know to stay away from the Faerie. Then one day, you and your sister get thrown in some thing called a cauldron and you can’t go back. You become the thing you’ve feared. The people you were once apart of now hate you.

Even before she joined the fae world, she had to gon through her mother’s lectures on how they’d grow up to marry and produce heirs. She thought Tomas Mandray was going to be her fate because of the morals implanted in her by her mother. She thought the only way to life as a woman was to marry, have children and host guests. The way her mother did it.

Yes, she didn’t step up when her mother died or when her father was in debt, but let me remind you Elain didn’t do anything either since everyone wants to forget about the sweet Archeron. I don’t see anything about her being called out??

Nesta is a person who is more action than words. She has shown her guilt, her regret for not helping Feyre by looking for her when Tamlin left with her. She helped out during the war, cut up bandages when she wasn’t asked to. She waited until she got the word that Cassian was ok after he was injuried. She has always been protective of both her sisters. Elain, however, seems to want to stay in the world where she doesn’t have to help others and see through their problems. She’d rather smile through it all then bring attention to the situation or fix it. Both Nesta and Feyre are not like this.

It’s no secret that the firstborn child has the most troubles as they are the guinea pigs (I can unfortunately attest to this), but here is an excerpt, in the narrative of Feyre, describing their late mother.

“My mother. Imperious and cold with her children, joyous and dazzling among the peerage who frequented our former estate, doting on my father—the one person whom she truly loved and respected. But she also had truly loved parties—so much so that she didn’t have time to do anything with me at all save contemplate how my budding abilities to sketch and paint might secure me a future husband. Had she lived long enough to see our wealth crumble, she would have been shattered by it—more so than my father. Perhaps it was a merciful thing that she died”. (Said in the first book of the series.)

Not the average mother, is she? Mrs Archeron does not involve herself with her children much and pays lots of attention to her status, and parties. Feyre mentions how she lectured her on how painting might secure her a husband. So if she spent the very little time she did with her daughters about husbands, we can pretty much develop a scene on how she raises her children and what she thought was “motherhood”.

For context, the age gap between each Archeron sister is around 1 to 2 years. Mrs. Archeron died of typhus when Feyre was 8. This would mean Elain was around 9/10, and Nesta was around 10/11.

If she’s talking to Feyre about husbands at that young age. she’s probably talking to Nesta and Elain about their maidenhoods, their first bleed and even children. She’d probably be expecting of Nesta to prepare herself for a prospective marriage.

She isn’t a dotting mother. She cares to spend her days showing to her friends and is said to care only for her husband.

Parents like this don’t raise children who are secure of themselves. These children have trust issues, attachment problems, overthink everything to the max and believe they will never be enough no matter what. They raise children who will do anything to get their mothers (or fathers) attention and anything they think will please them.

Her daughters (save for Feyre) are taught by the most prestigious tutors in the most prestigious subjects but this doesn’t teach them how to cook, how to sew or how to clean. It gives them the ability to marry rich and be the lady of a house, who has maids.

Mrs. Archeron is a rich and most likely a well-known woman. Her husband is the Prince of Merchants. This could lead her to engrave it in her own daughters that they need to be proper, ladylike, marry rich and to be a wife first, and even give many heirs to their husbands.

This hits the firstborn children harder than anything else. Because they are the experiments. The parents are new to things, they don’t know what is right or wrong. Nesta would’ve been expected to ready herself for any future suitors. 

On her deathbed, she makes her youngest daughter promise to do everything to take care of them. Even she knows that Elain and Nesta do not have the characteristics to take control and keep the household smooth. Feyre has shown more leadership and bravery in any situation than both of her sisters and THAT IS OK!! NOT EVERYONE IS A BORN LEADER! THAT IS WHY WE HAVE LEADERS!

So please, please do not attack Nesta for being a raw person. If she was a male this would be completely different. She is trying to recover and cope in her own way.

Now, I’m not saying Nesta is flawless. Because she isn’t. And I’m saying this as a person who feels that if I were to be put in the series, I’d be the Nesta. I think about my attitude and my outside picture everyday. Don’t think Nesta probably doesn’t think about her image each day. Anyone like her, myself included, think about this every minute of the day. And while I do smile through the mental pain everyday like Elain, Nesta is the only character I can relate to in the series. Her walls, her rawness and her ability to detect the lies and the bs are also engraved in me. It’s hard to trust and form life long friendships when your mindset is like this.

Thank you for reading if you have come down here. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart. I do not expect anyone to read after the first sentence.

Stay safe, sound and healthy! 🧡

[xingplytwelve]

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝟪 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒷𝓈

Author’s Note: It’s quite funny, this prompt came to me while I was doing Muay Thai in the gym. If only I have a hot-ass instructor like zyx! Pairing: Yixing x Reader Genre/ AU: Fluff, Smut, Gym AU Rating/ Warnings: NC-17 Word Count: 4.6k 

Epilogue 

‘What the fuck, y/n! What have you been doing?!’ Your boss raged as he slammed the deck that you’ve been working on, burning the midnight oil for the past few days. You flinched at the impact of his anger, as you looked at him blankly. You did exactly what he had told you to, but he must have forgotten what he had mentioned to you, for the nth time. You had been in this creative agency for the past two years, and sometimes, you don’t even know how you managed the time you spent here. Your boss, though not the worst boss ever, but definitely not the best either. You were getting sick and tired of how you had to handle his ever-changing moods, and how he always told you one thing but expect the other. You remained silent, while your boss shouted over to your colleague, ‘You do it instead!’ She gave you the ‘he’s being crazy again’ look before acknowledging your boss, and you gave her a faint smile. Luckily for you, you knew exactly how to relief your stress through the art of the 8 limbs. Not to mention, you were also crushing on one of your instructors as well. But that’s only normal right? Who won’t have a crush on zhang yixing, the best-looking muay thai instructor around. The girls in the gym were always talking him, about how he’s the hottest and the most attractive. There were even some who joined the gym because of him. But unlike the rest who were head over heels for him because of his good looks and physique, you were secretly crushing on him because of how he’s always so focused, serious, and attentive to each and every student during classes. The way he helped and cared for the students was what caught your attention, and his looks were really just a bonus. You just couldn’t wait for the day to end, so that you can head to the gym and smash some pads, not forgetting to also take a look at yixing. 

‘Hi y/n! How are you?’ Yixing greeted the moment you stepped into the gym, as he walked past you to go for a quick break. You nodded at him as a form of acknowledgement, knowing that he was simply being courteous, greeting the regular students. Though you knew that very well, but you can’t help but to feel heebie-jeebies whenever he talked to you. Not to lie, but the way his training attire showcases his lean body was definitely breath-taking. An hour of drilling cardio ended fast, and you started to packed your things lazily, staring into space at times. You had vent out all your frustrations through the bags earlier on, leaving you with little energy to barely do anything. Very soon, you were one of the few students left in the gym, since it was getting a little late. You then gathered your remaining strength and took your belongings, heading to the changing room to take a quick shower before heading home. 

You undressed yourself, and drips of water started falling on your skin. This has got to be one of the best feelings in the world, taking a shower after a workout. As you immersed yourself in the shower, you started to think about what happened in class earlier on. As if intensity of the workout wasn’t enough for your heart, you could have sworn your pulse was racing double its pace when yixing looked into your eyes, his soft skin brushing against yours while correcting your techniques. He was simply oblivious to the effect he had on you, or rather, women in general, or so you thought. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a voice saying, ‘the gym is closing soon!’ You then got out of the shower reluctantly and prepared to head home, when you saw yixing stepping out of the guy’s changing room. Your heart skipped a beat, not expecting to see him still here. He gave you a charming smile, which you returned with a tight lipped one, trying to hide how flustered you were to see him dressed in casual clothes, which made him even better-looking. You left the gym quickly, and were waiting for the lift when someone tapped on your shoulder. Your heart might have stopped beating for a second when you turned around, to realise that yixing was the one who tapped on you. ‘Hey y/n, are you okay?’ He started off, leaving you puzzled at his question. ‘You were really smashing the bags just now, doesn’t your feet hurt?’ He added, pointing at your legs which were still a little reddish from the impact earlier on. You blushed a little at his attentiveness, as you answered while avoiding his gaze, ‘Just a bad day, I guess.’ ‘You wanna talk about it?’ He then asked, taking you by surprise. You were lost for words, not knowing what is the best answer you could give. You wanted to say yes, so badly, to talk to someone about your problems, and also to spend a little bit of time with yixing. But at the same time, you wasn’t sure if he was just being polite, or was he really extending an invitation to you. You didn’t want to sound silly and desperate for him, even though you were in fact, silly and desperate for him. ‘I’m actually heading for a pint of beer before heading home, do you want to come with me?’ He prompted, seeing that you’ve yet to give him a response. Oh my gosh, he’s not just being polite, you thought to yourself as you try to formulate an answer that doesn’t expose your inner thoughts. ‘I would really love to, can I?’ You answered, as you mustered up your courage to look at him, trying to hide a grin. ‘Of course! Would be nice to have some company,’ he said with a bright smile, showing off his sweet dimples.

‘You know, you’re the type of girl that I won’t expect to see in the gym,’ yixing said, as he took a sip of his beer, leaving some of it’s foam on his lips, his seemingly tasty lips. You can’t help but to stare at them, after which letting a chuckle escaped. ‘I’m sorry, what do you mean?’ You then asked, as you looked at the slightly embarrassed yixing who was wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘I’m not going to tell you after you laughed at me,’ he responded, as his brows drew together to form a tiny frown. ‘So, what happened?’ He asked, shifting his attention to you. You wasn’t sure how did you managed to feel more at ease with his presence now, perhaps it was that he had abandoned the context of a instructor-student relationship, and the fact that you guys were just chilling at a bar like normal friends, so you started sharing more about yourself with him. You told him how your day went, and how you anticipated to hit the gym everyday just so you can get rid of your stress, leaving out the part where you actually looked forward to seeing him. Time flew past and it was getting pretty late, as yixing took a look at his watch and exclaimed, ‘I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t know it was this late already! Is your boyfriend coming to pick you up? It’s dangerous for you to go back by yourself at this hour.’ You shook your head, answering, ‘It’s fine, yixing. I didn’t realised the time too. And don’t worry, I can go back on my own, I don’t have a boyfriend.’ A familiar expression soon came into your sight, when he asked while frowning, ‘what? Why?’ Why? You knew the answer to his question, but simply shrugged it off. How could you tell him that you’ve been single because you were having a crush on him? Though you did not answer yixing’s question, he was actually pleased with it. He just had to ask, to make sure, before he make any more moves. He stood up, and yanked you off your seat by tugging your wrists. Not knowing how to response yet again, the most you could manage was a, ‘Where are we going?’ Yixing simply ignored your question, till he reached his destination. You guys were at a carpark near the gym, in front of a bike. ‘I’m sending you home, silly,’ was his delayed answer to your question. ‘You don’t have too, really…’ you mumbled, but yixing, as usual, simply disregard whatever you were saying, as he put on his extra helmet for you. ‘Oh, I see that you’re scared of riding bikes,’ he teased, as he gently adjusted the helmet to ensure that it fits you, then clipping the sides together. ‘I’m not, ok!’ Your answer came in a rush. You were always a sucker for such goads, and yixing knew exactly that. He could tell from the way you were when you had your gloves on in the gym. A small smirk appeared on his face, barely noticeable. He hop onto his bike and started the engine, while you carefully got on, placing your hands underneath the seat. 

He laughed at your actions, without you knowing since you could only see his back view. But he was determined to make your hands leave the seat, and he knew exactly how to do that. He started off slow, but soon speed up when it was on the expressways, making you tugged onto the hems of his leather jacket. You could feel your heart thumping almost out of your ribcage, at how fast he was going, instantly making you regret your answer earlier. Maybe you should have admitted that you were just a teeny weeny afraid of riding bikes. As he made a sharp drift once the roads hits a turn, you hugged his waist tightly, fearing that you might just fall off the bike if you did not do so. ‘You should have done this earlier on,’ yixing shouted, his sentence disappearing into the strong wind that was blowing against y’all. Fear soon disappeared, since you felt safer holding onto him, and you were starting to enjoy the ride back. He soon arrived at your place, and helped you to take off your helmet once you got down from his bike. He smiled, showing you his lovely dimples as he patted your head, before bidding goodbye and speeding off again. You stay put, looking at him before he completely disappear within your sight, before finally heading back home. You threw yourself down onto the couch, and replayed every single part of the night you spent with yixing in your mind. Not only did you had a proper, and in fact, deep conversation with your crush over a beer, he had also sent you home, and you had also held onto his waist so tightly. Not forgetting that you had also shamelessly exchanged numbers with him earlier on, as you took out your phone and contemplate if you should drop him a text. But what are you going to say? You started crafting your message, but edited it repeatedly over and over again. You just couldn’t think of a way to express yourself without sounding that you were overly infatuated with him. Just as you were about to give up, a notification popped up. 

Yixing Z

Don’t worry about me (if you are, even). I just reached home

You stared into your phone unbelievably, and was consumed by your own thoughts before another message appeared. 

Yixing Z

I’m guessing you’re asleep already? 

It brought you back to your senses as you quickly typed away, and finally pressing send on your carefully crafted reply, hoping that you won’t regret it. 

Y/N

I’m still awake, haha. Thank you for the night, I had a really great time just now. And thank you for sending me back too! 

Yixing Z

You’re very welcome ;) 

What does that wink even mean, you wondered as you looked at his reply. You soon head to bed, and giggled inevitably when yixing flashes in your mind again. The bad day at work turned into a great one after all, you thought, and soon drifted into deep slumber. 

Since then, you had undoubtedly gotten closer to yixing, and it was getting pretty obvious among the people in the gym. He was always disturbing you during classes, and you knew he was seldom like this to other students. You didn’t know exactly how he felt towards you, but you had always assumed it to a normal friendship that had blossomed by chance. Even so, you felt contented, and happy, that your crush had somehow became a part of your life, not only as your crush, but as a friend. This whole twist of fate was simply, bittersweet. 

You had ended work especially late this day, and since you had already brought your training stuffs out, you figured that you should probably go for the last class, even though you were pretty exhausted from the crap that you were getting from your boss. It was a rather quiet day in the gym, there were barely any students when you stepped in. Typically, there would still be a few students who would still be here, but today, you were the only student taking the last class before the gym closes. Yixing, who had just woken up from his nap, walked out of the resting room reluctantly, but a bright smile soon appeared on his face at the sight of you. ‘Ended work late?’ He asked, as he walked towards you and patted your head gently. You nodded, as you said coyly, ‘I’m so tired, let me off today ok?’ Yixing looked at you in surprise, before asking, ‘How about some light sparring today?’ You returned him with a pout, hesitant about his suggestion before finally agreeing to it since it was a good chance for you to apply the techniques that you’ve learnt during classes. ‘Great! We can take all the time in the world, I’m also the one closing the gym today,’ he added. What you didn’t know was that he actually had some other plans in mind to make full use of the empty gym, though you were pretty certain that you saw a tiny smirk escaping his lips when he ended off his sentence. 

You were sure that you were going to get owned by yixing the moment you guys started sparring. You found it hard to focus on the swift movements of his body, when all you could see was the entire universe beneath those beautiful eyes. Yixing noticed that, which he then questioned, ‘Are you okay, y/n? You’re not focusing that well.’ You nodded sheepishly, as you snapped out of your thoughts. You were getting more and more fed up as the minutes passed, no matter what you threw, be it a jab, a hook, or a roundhouse kick, yixing seemed to have predicted everything, in which he dodged all of your attacks perfectly. You, on the other hand, were unable to foresee what he was going to throw. Though he was very soft in his attacks, the fact that you wasn’t able to get a successful hit was beyond frustrating. He then threw a jab that you didn’t managed to dodge, causing his gloves to brush against your cheeks lightly which made you flinched a little. ‘Oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n, are you alright? That must have hurt,’ he apologised, after which taking off his gloves and placed his hands on your cheeks gently, examining if you’ve been hurt by him. ‘It’s nothing, you didn’t really hit me. I’m alright!’ you replied. Your cheeks were getting heated up, and it wasn’t from the jab, but from the way he was caressing your face. In that instant, all your frustrations were gone and you actually regretted avoiding some of his attacks earlier on, if you had known that he would have done this. That was how much you were craving for his touch. ‘This will lessen the pain ok,’ he said as he stared into your eyes, before giving you a soft peck on your cheeks quickly. Your blood were streaming with hormones by his actions, your pulse racing, as your cheeks gave out how flustered you were with shades of pink. Yixing chortled at his sight, making you extra embarrassed, while your mind went into fight-or-flight mode, in which you fled. You ran off to the changing room, and looking at your reflection made you want to vanish into thin air immediately. Your body had totally given you away on how you’ve felt towards yixing, despite trying to hide it all these while. You took off your gloves and splashed a few drops of cold water on your face, hoping that it’ll ease the blush, still evident on your cheeks. Just then, you heard a knock on the changing room’s door, and yixing’ voice. ‘I’m coming in,’ was what you heard. You remained still nervously, as yixing walked towards you. He took a  few steps closer, while you took the same number of steps back, until you found yourself up against the wall of one of the shower cubicles. Great, you don’t even have anywhere to flee off to right now. Yixing had one of his hands up against the wall, while the other one on your chin, raising it up so that you’ll stop avoiding his gaze. ‘y/n ah, you’re so oblivious, do you know that?’ He started off. What does he mean by that? You thought he was the one who had zero idea of the effect he had on women. ‘I know there are many girls who were nuts over me, I just didn’t care. Because I liked you,’ he whispered, looking at you fondly. You almost couldn’t believed your ears, it was as though you were living in a fairytale, whereby the prince that the princess loved so much, loved her back too. 

Before you had the chance to even said anything, yixing had playfully lifted the lever right next to him, and warm water was soon pouring on the both of you. You shut your eyes at the impact of the water droplets, and felt yixing’s lips crashing on yours. You were now tasting his lips that was like honey, and that answers your question of how those lips would have tasted like, which had probably came across your mind countless times. The kiss was gentle and affectionate, and you found yourself getting lost in it while drips of water continued to soak the two of you. You opened your eyes the moment he parted your lips, and the sight in front of you was simply mesmerising. His rash guard, already tight-fitting, was now damped thoroughly, allowing you to see how defined his body was. Noticing that you had your eyes fixated on his body, yixing then said, ‘you’re quite a sight yourself too.’ He meant what he said, you were just as soaked as he was, and your top had sank into your skin, allowing the outline of your sports bra to be seen. You could tell that he was extremely pleased with what he was looking at. He then leaned in, tilting his head slightly as he kissed you again. You were expecting him to go soft like earlier on, but instead, he was demanding and harsh. He was literally tasting your lips, and was taking over your mouth like it was his property. You eventually gave in and returned his kisses, releasing soft whimpers along the way. As the two of you broke away, you saw a smirk on yixing’s face. He already had his hands on the curves of your waist, and his touch had set your hormones on fire. His sneaky hands were slowly creeping up to your breasts, followed by him asking, ‘May I, princess?’ You wanted to scream yes, so damn badly. You wanted him to continue whatever he was doing, leave traces of himself all over your body, and to have him inside you so bad. But the way he called you princess so delicately made you weak, causing you to only manage a nod. ‘I swear, I’ll make you feel good princess. So good, that you’ll forget everything else but me,’ he added seductively. 

You could already feel your knees weakening merely by his dirty talks, and you just couldn’t wait for yixing to take you however he wanted to. You had your hands tugging onto his rash guard, which you then helped him to remove the moment he ended his sentence. His body was simply a splendid result of his consistent workouts, his abs were so well-defined, and not forgetting his deep V lines. ‘You wanna touch it?’ Yixing asked, extremely satisfied with the way you were thirsting for him. ‘Yes… yes yixing,’ you answered softly, as you reached out for them, but your hands were gently slapped away by him. ‘You have to please me first. Take off all your clothes, now’ yixing ordered. The way yixing switched between his traits of a complete gentleman and a dominant alpha was driving you fucking insane, and you did whatever you were told immediately. ‘Good girl,’ yixing said, as he checked your naked state out, before grabbing onto your hands and placing them on his V lines, as he promised. ‘Yixing, please… take me already,’ you begged, as you bit your lips in desperation. Yixing sneered at how helpless you were, before pressing his body against yours, making sure that you felt his hardening cock, to let you know how much he wanted you, before showering you with sloppy kisses all over. You started moving your hands down his hips, when yixing whispered, his face only inches apart from yours, ‘you have the honour, princess.’ You then helped him to remove his satin shorts, pulling them down entirely with his underwear, as you watched his thick cock being released. ‘How will you like to be taken?’ Yixing asked, as he started nibbling your damp skin, his rock-hard dick rubbing against your entrance. Just as you were enjoying that, he started to suck on your nipple gently, in which you returned with a moan. You’ve yet to answer yixing’s question, which got him to pinch your other nipple that he was playing with with his fingers. You whined, as you ran your fingers through his wet hair when yixing said, ‘I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.’ ‘However you want, yixing,’ you answered breathlessly. 

Hearing that, yixing then shoved himself into you immediately without wasting much time, causing you to mewl at the impact of his length. ‘Trust me ok?’ Yixing said softly, as he gave you a light peck on your lips, before carrying you up by the underside of your thighs. You grabbed onto him naturally, and then swing your arms around him so he could have a better grip, in the position that he wants to fuck you in. Yixing then started thrusting inside you slow and gentle, making sure that you’re comfortable. Having his cock inside of you had became very much pleasurable as your clit soon got used to him. ‘Mm yixing…Keep going mm,’ you moaned right beside his ear, which you then hid your face in his neck. Yixing grinned, as he started to intensify his pace by rocking you upwards and down with his masculine arms. Your hands were starting to run wild on his bare back, your nails leaving markings of yourself and your mouth, biting into whatever was available uncontrollably. Yixing groaned as you bit into his flesh, but he clearly enjoying it. He’ll gladly take in anything, as long as it’s from his little princess. Your walls were clenching onto his dick, as you started begging yixing to go even harder. It was exactly what he had been waiting for, to fuck you rough straight up against the wall. He smirked, as he teased, ‘Is that what you want?’ You had your face up to look at him, as you nodded excessively. Yixing then gave you a heated and possessive kiss, before placing you down gently and said, ‘turn around please, princess.’ He had no idea how aroused you get all over again whenever he calls you that, as you obeyed obediently. Yixing had his arm over your stomach, preparing you for the impact as he penetrated into you in one powerful stroke. You squealed from his thrust, as you held onto his arm, your grip tightening as he continued thrusting inside you hard from behind. His name was escaping louder and louder from your lips as you grew closer to your orgasm, and had your other hand up pressing against the wall. ‘YIXING,’ you screamed in pleasure the moment you felt tingling sensations all over your body, and yixing wasn’t too far behind as well. He went even faster, while you were still trying to catch your breath from your high, the sound of his hips slapping against your butt cheeks were nearly as loud the splashes of water that hit the floor. ‘Ahh,’ yixing moaned, and you felt him filling up your insides with his thick, hot cum. He rested his chin on your shoulders for a few seconds, hands running up and down your curves while the two of you overcome your euphoric state, before planting a soft kiss on your nape as he took a few steps back. He took your hand, turning you around so that you were facing him. Tucking your damped hair back so that he could see the whole of your face, yixing then explained, ‘A hot girl like you in a martial arts gym full of boys, I’m a lucky one, aren’t I.’

‘Oh, so that was what you meant back then,’ you answered, as you tried to pinch his cheeks but had your hands slipped off from his wet skin. Yixing chuckled, as he pressed on the shampoo dispenser, and started applying them on you. You were extremely sweeten by his gesture, and noticing that, yixing then said, ‘when I call you princess, I really meant it, ok. It’s not a this only happens during sex kinda thing. Unless you don’t want to be mine?’ You looked at him in disbelief, how could this man even had thoughts like this going through his mind when he had just fucked the hell out of you. ‘Haven’t you just had me already?’ You answered, as you started poking his chest with your forefinger shyly. ‘I want to hear it coming from you,’ yixing said in a firm tone, as he tugged onto your wrist. He had made you giggled like a little girl, as you added, ‘I’m yours, yixing, all yours.’ ‘That’s more like it,’ yixing answered in delight, placing his forehead on yours as he gave you a peck on the tip of your nose. As you attempted to give him a hug, the slippery wet floor had given you the chance to fall into his arms. If he haven’t caught you perfectly, you probably would have been kissing the floor then. ‘Wow, you’re so eager to be mine huh?’ Yixing laughed, holding onto your arms to prevent you from slipping again, as you simply hid your face in his chest in embarrassment. ‘You’re hella cute when you’re shy,’ yixing confessed, before adding, ‘stay over at my place tonight ok?’ You nodded, and you could have sworn hearing yixing said, ‘maybe we could have another go at it, clean and dry this time.’ 

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

** Writing Challenge **

I know, I know, my next one isn’t quite wrapped up yet, buttttt this idea came to me when my cousin and I were taking a walk down a ridiculous part of Memory Lane and I got excited. I’m guessing this has been done before at some point -- that’s not stopping me from presenting to you: 

I love fluff. And I wanna see more of it! 

Below the cut you will find some prompts that, in the context of Twilight, are absolutely cringe-worthy. My challenge to you is to take that prompt and make it something we can love. 

Disclaimer: I’m not Twilight-shaming ANYONE. I literally sat and watched all of Eclipse and now want to watch both Breaking Dawns. It’s more about sentiment, and the occasional girly giggle for me, but ... yeah. No judgement here, friends. 

Guidelines, prompts, and tags are below the cut! (Yes, I copied and tweaked from my last writing challenge. I’m being efficient, thank you! :P )

Please read all of the information carefully!

Rules, Guidelines, Important Dates:

Sign-Ups start when this post is live and will go through to December 30, 2020. I will accept two people for each prompt, one prompt per author.

Please send your sign-ups to my ask box so they’re easier to keep track of. I will answer them privately so I’m not flooding anyone’s dash!

In your ask, please include your preferred prompt and a backup option, as well as your pairing (so I don’t take the same pairing for the same prompt). Also, please let me know if you’ll be posting from a URL other than one you’re asking from.

To be included in the challenge masterlist, please post your fic (or the first part, if it’s a series) by Decemeber 31, 2020.

Please include an author’s note tagging me and mentioning the challenge in your fic post; include #BetterThanTwilightWC in the first five tags. If the tag doesn’t work, you may DM the link to me, also. If you decide to write a series, please tag me in the masterlist.

Please give me up to 48 hours to read your fic before checking if I have seen it. If I have not liked it after 48 hours, please DO check. (You know, since we’re all aware of how unreliable tumblr is. And how unreliable my mind can be. Yikes.)

The challenge masterlist will be posted between January 1 and January 4, 2020.

There are no word count limits, but please use the Keep Reading feature if your story goes beyond 500 words. Additionally, if your fic goes beyond 5000 words, please consider splitting it into multiple parts. This is not a requirement, only something to think about.

Yes, this is a FLUFF challenge, so you MUST have fluff as your main genre. You’re more than welcome to include other genres, but you MUST have a happy and/or hopeful ending.

You’re welcome to think outside of the box! Just because I’m talking Twilight and love stories, doesn’t mean there has to be romance! Give me  amazing friendships or strong family bonds or self-love. Or romance! Whatever you’d like. 

You're welcome to change pronouns in the prompt as necessary! Heck, I tweaked a few of ‘em so they’re not Twilight-specific.

For personal reasons, I do not read and will not accept into the challenge (which means I will not reblog or add to the masterlist) stories that include: non-con/dub-con, underage sex, adult-child romantic/sexual relationships, spouse-bashing, child abuse – I could go on, but I think you get the idea. If you’re not sure about something, I’m always happy to answer questions!

Bring on the ships, OC’s, reader pairings – I’m trying to be more open-minded as of late, but I can’t promise that I will read everything. Again, for personal reasons. But I will reblog everything! 

Characters and RPFs from Marvel/MCU are both welcome. 

If you need an extension or need to drop out, please know that I am extremely flexible when it comes to that deadline/due date. In the words of Captain Barbosa, “It’s really more of a guideline.” Just shoot me an ask or a message and we’ll work something out, no worries! 

Prompts: 

1. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”  2. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.”  3. “I know what you are.”  4. “You held out your hand and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing.” 5. “You have a connection with her that I’ll never understand.” 6. “I’m glad she has you.” 7. “It will be like I never existed. I promise.” 8. “I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Brings me happiness.” 9. “That will take a while to get used to.” “We have a while.” 10. “What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” 11. “I’d rather hear your theories.” 12. (sarcastically) “Super. That makes me really happy.” 13. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” 14. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross. I should be thoroughly repulsed.” 15. “It’s an extraordinary thing to meet someone who you can bare your soul to and they’ll accept you for what you are.” 16. “I’ve been waiting for what seems like a very long time to get beyond what I am.” 17. “I feel like I can finally begin.” 18. “He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” 19. “He did say I couldn’t step inside the door. I came in through the window.” 20. “I know things. Like how to hunt somebody to the ends of the earth. And I know how to use a gun.” 21. “Now I’m afraid.” “Good.” 22. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you.” 23.  “About three things I was absolutely positive ...” 24. “You’re so stubborn.” 25. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” 26. “I can’t even think about someone hurting you.” 27. “The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.” 28. “Don’t antagonize her. She’s the strongest one in the house.” 29. “All right. That’s enough experimenting for one day.” 30. “It never made sense for you to love me.” 31. “I wish there had been someone to vote no for me.” 32. “It’s just a little baby.” 33. “How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?” 34. “I’m not missing another fight!” 35. “No one can hide like me.” 36. “If I asked you to stay in the car, would you?” 37. “I have one condition, if you want me to do it myself.” 38. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common. You can Google it.” 39. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” 40. “I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” 41. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 42. “Can you talk about something else? Distract me so I won’t turn around.” 43. “I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.” 44. “After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?” 45. “Maybe that’s why they kicked me out.” 46. “All of my best nights have happened since I met you.” 47. “You know everybody’s staring?” “Not that guy ... no, he just looked.” 48. “She wishes she was that awesome.” 49. “Does he visit often?” “Yeah, all the time.” 50. “Lie ... Lie better.” 51. “I’m Switzerland.” 52. “That should have been our first kiss.” 53. “Would you like to hear my story? It doesn’t have a happy ending -- but which of ours does?” 54. “Another party?” “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” 55. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. I will always be yours.” 56. “The way he watches you. It’s like he’s willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something.” 57. “Kill me! Not him!” 58. “Stay.” “Give me one good reason.” 59. “Yeah, it’s and off day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” 60. “Damn it! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” 61. “If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not afraid of it.” 62. “Do I dazzle you?” 63. “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.” 64. “Bring on the shackles, I’m your prisoner.” 65. “You are my life now.” 66. “And then we continued blissfully into this small, perfect piece of our forever.” 67. “Nobody’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.” 68. “I don’t know what happened.” “You love him.” 69. “All of sudden it’s not gravity holding you to the planet, it’s her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her.” 70. “You really love her?” 71. “I don’t see the whole point of the rest of the world without her.” 72. “Then I found a promising site ... I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicked closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally, the screen finished -- simple, white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:” 73. “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” 74. “I’ll be fighting for her, too, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.” 75. “It’s always been him.” 76. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” 77. “They’re coming for her.” “They’re not gonna touch her.” 78. “Doesn’t he own a shirt?” 79. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re enemies and that you’re also trying to steal away the reason for my existence, I might actually like you.” 80. “You have disappeared. Like everything else.” 81. “The absence of him is everywhere I look.” 82. “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.” 83. “Your number was up the first time I met you.” 84. “We all like to drive fast.” 85. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” 86. “I’ve never given much thought to how I’d die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go.” 87. “Don’t tempt me too far. My patience isn’t that perfect.” 88. “His tone questions my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfect delivered line by a skilled actor.” 89. “What’s he mad about?” 90. “No measure of time with you will ever be enough.” 91. “I promise to love you forever, every single day of forever.” 92. “We’re gonna be great friends!” 93. “If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing him.” 94. “Until your heart stops beating.” 95. “I touched the cool miracle of his ski, and I was home.” 96. “Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.” 97. “This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions. This is the time to make mistakes.” 98. “Leave it to you ... you have to start hanging out with the first weirdos you can find.” 99. “I love him much more than I should, and yet still nowhere near enough.” 100. “I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes.”

Tags for possible interest/signal boosting (if you’re so inclined): 

 @captain-s-rogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @horsesandbandsforlife​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shynara51​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sea040561​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @beakami​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @shield-agent78​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @jennmurawski13​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[beca-mitchell]

Can you give us another sneak peek of the mafia!au 🥺

here’s 3k words of it 

i’m too lazy to upload to AO3 because it’s still incomplete but i might later. I’m sorry that it’s really bad and incomplete. I’ve just been too tired to really look at this AU for now.

for context: beca is the daughter of a crime lord and chloe is a university student. they meet by chance on a night out and fall in love.

Warning for smut.

* * * * *

You’re the fear, I don’t careCause I’ve never been so highFollow me through the darkLet me take you past the satellitesYou can see the world you brought to life

* * * * *

Oddly, the fear that rushes through Beca as she faces the plain wooden door is not because of the lingering adrenaline from just under an hour ago, facing down the barrel of a gun, but rather, what she knows lies behind the door. 

Who she knows is behind the door.

She raises her hand to knock, wincing when her sore shoulder makes itself ever known once more. It is a reminder of being pinned against the floor wherein she had seen a brief segment of her life flash before her eyes. It isn’t necessarily a new occurrence, but these days—

Beca inhales deeply, steadying herself.

These days, Beca feels like there is so much more at stake.

(And, the pressing matter of Chloe not even fully knowing her entire history—all the reasons why Beca hates herself; why Beca hates that this is even her life at all—still lingers over Beca like an impenetrable cloud.)

She knocks, finally and keeps her eyes trained straight ahead, knowing that the wrath she’ll face from Chloe is likely going to be the most frightening thing she experiences tonight, but she kind of hopes it’s quick because all she wants is a warm shower and Chloe’s arms around her.

Chloe pulls open the door after a few moments—moments that stretch like eons for Beca—and it takes a few moments while Chloe rubs the sleep out of one of her eyes before peering at Beca in confusion.

“Beca?” she questions, voice rattling with tiredness. Beca realizes with a pang that she likely woke Chloe up unnecessarily. The reminder that the apartment complex’s hallway remains eerily empty and quiet is also an indicator that it is a lot later than Beca had expected.

“I—” Beca swallows when she feels the strangest tightness in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispers instead, forgetting what she had even intended to say. Likely something stupidly suave and not-at-all appropriate for the gravity of the situation at hand. She realizes how much she wants to step into Chloe’s arms, but something holds her back, like she recognizes that she is exceptionally tainted and unclean. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, but she just needs Chloe to—she needs Chloe to—

“C’mere,” Chloe rasps, pulling her securely into her arms when she takes in Beca’s rattled state. She pulls a little harder than Beca would like, but Beca reminds herself that Chloe doesn’t know of the aches and bruises littering her body. She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine, she reminds herself. 

She’s alive and she came back to Chloe just like she promised. 

Chloe’s heart pounds as she holds Beca, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. Beca had mentioned that she needed to do some business-related things and that vague descriptor had been enough for Chloe despite all the questions she wanted to ask. The fear and curiosity still war with each other constantly in Chloe’s heart ever since learning of what Beca really did for a living. 

All the demons in her closet. 

All the horrors in her sleep.

Chloe wonders if she can pull some of that pain from Beca. If she can seep some of it away, somehow. She squeezes Beca a little tighter, sighing into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck as she does so. It is then that Beca stiffens and her back tenses uncomfortably, but she relaxes quickly enough. Chloe catches it however and pulls back, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“What was that about?” she asks, pulling Beca further into her apartment. She debates whether to draw Beca towards the bathroom or towards her bedroom. Before she can really decide, Chloe notices the way Beca’s hand comes up to her shoulder almost unconsciously as her eyes lift up to Chloe’s in a guilty manner. Chloe’s small apartment seems even smaller as Beca looks up at her with nervous, anxious eyes. Incredibly even then, the bedroom, where she so desperately wants to cuddle with Beca now more than ever, feels too far away. “Are you hurt?” Chloe asks, reaching forward to cup Beca’s cheeks as gently as she can. “Did you hurt yourself? Did somebody—” the thought rattles her “—did somebody hurt you?” 

Beca attempts a smile, but it’s weak. “I didn’t hurt myself…” she trails off, pretty much confirming every last one of Chloe’s fears. 

(Since Beca’s big “reveal” just under two weeks ago, Chloe had spent many sleepless nights staring at her ceiling while she remained tortured by her own imagination.

It was difficult reconciling the fact that the woman she had come to develop very real feelings for in such a short period of time was also susceptible to the very awful reality of her own line of “work”—a life that she had been forced into more than a life that she had chosen.

It was heartbreaking more than it was terrifying, but the fear played a factor regardless.)

Chloe desperately wants to roll her eyes, but she refuses to take her eyes off Beca’s face. “Beca, you promised,” she whispers, her heart clenching with renewed pain and fear. “Is it bad?” She reaches up to run her fingers through Beca’s hair. She smiles, ever so slightly, at the very subtle way Beca leans into her touch. “Show me,” she urges. “I can help.” 

“I don’t…are you sure?” Beca asks, looking like she’s afraid of something. Probably Chloe running away. “I don’t want you to be like…grossed out.” 

Chloe would laugh at Beca’s ever-present hard-headedness if she weren’t concerned at the possibility of Beca legitimately needing some kind of urgent care.

“I’m not going anywhere…no matter how reckless you are,” Chloe declares. She draws back, placing her hands on her hips and stares hard at Beca, eyes searching across Beca’s face. Her stance doesn’t last long and Chloe deflates. “You promised, Bec. You weren’t going to do…that.”

“It…it got out of control,” Beca admits, thinking about the flash of fury that had slid across her father’s business contact’s face before her back had thudded hard against the ground. “But it’s not bad, I promise,” she assures quickly when Chloe’s eyes flash with emotion once more. A mix of anger and concern. “I just…hurt my shoulder and back really badly. And,” she continues, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket, showing Chloe her bruised wrist. “Just this.” 

“I’m so mad at you,” Chloe whispers. She too is cognizant of how late it is—how thin the apartment walls are. Not for the first time, she wishes that she lived in a more upscale place—somewhere to call her own. Still, her actions contradict her words as she lifts Beca’s hand gently to press a kiss against her palm. “If you can promise not to injure yourself anymore, we can go take a shower.” 

Beca’s heartbeat speeds up as she tries not to think immediately of what she so desperately wants to do with Chloe in the shower, still something they haven’t done together, but she’s still kind of unsure if she’s on the hook still or if she’s allowed to think about having sex with her girlfriend. Whether Chloe sees anything particularly telling in her eyes she does not make it known and instead dips her head to capture Beca’s lips in a soft kiss.

Beca pushes into Chloe immediately, responding in kind. She trembles at how tender Chloe’s lips are—how gentle Chloe is in the way her hand grips her waist, holding her firmly and securely against her body. Beca sighs, tilting her head to properly capture Chloe’s lower lip between her own and stepping further into Chloe’s space. 

“I would love that, Chlo.” 

* * * * *

“Don’t be scared,” Beca urges, tracing Chloe’s cheek with her nose. She parts her lips, dipping her head to kiss along Chloe’s jaw and neck. 

Chloe shudders. “I am,” Chloe murmurs, grasping Beca’s jaw gently before tilting her head up for another kiss. “Only of losing you, though.”

Beca’s entire body warms—even more than it had been from standing under the warm shower spray. The heat is a result of the passion and desperation in Chloe’s voice. Beca has never been wanted quite so earnestly and honestly like this. She had never dared to dream of it either, especially 

“Please,” Beca pleads. All she wants is to feel close to her girlfriend right now. “Can we…I just need to feel you, Chlo…” She wants nothing more than to be reduced to just feeling Chloe’s body against her—she wants to feel nothing except the sensation of Chloe breaking her and tasting her. She wants to forget in a way that only Chloe knows how.

Chloe muffles the almost desperate whimper that escapes Beca’s mouth by covering her lips with her own. The previous tenderness, while still present, is no longer at the forefront of Chloe’s kiss. Instead, Beca feels, with a surge of arousal, the insistent probing of Chloe’s tongue into her mouth and the warmth of Chloe’s wet body against her own. They’re entirely wasting water at this point, but it’s late and Beca intends on making full use of her private bathroom. 

Chloe tears her mouth away eventually, breathing heavily against Beca’s mouth and chin as she gazes at Beca from beneath long eyelashes, water dripping off their ends. Beca trembles at the sight of Chloe’s excessively blue eyes, more gorgeous than ever. With her eyes still trained on Beca, Chloe begins to descend, lips trailing a blazing path down Beca’s neck, her collarbone, between her breasts—Beca whines unexpectedly when Chloe teasingly skips her aching nipples—then down the plane of her stomach before slowly parting Beca’s legs.

“Can you…” Chloe trails two fingers up the inside of Beca’s thigh. “Up?” she asks, breath hot and heavy against Beca’s skin. Beca nods, lifting her leg up over Chloe’s shoulder while she reaches down to sweep Chloe’s messy, wet hair away from her face. “So good,” Chloe murmurs, kissing the soft skin of Beca’s inner thigh closest to her. Her lips trail closer to Beca’s center, where she can see Beca throbs and wants for Chloe the most. The visual of Beca’s wanting, open center—all for Chloe—sends the headiest rush of arousal through Chloe, a visceral want that she attempts to alleviate by pressing her own thighs together. Pushing forward, she leans in for a soft, intimate kiss to Beca’s wet folds, committed to her show of affection and care for the woman pinned to the wall.l 

Beca tilts her head back against the panes of the individual shower stall, groaning quietly when Chloe’s tongue flicks sharply against her clit. The aches in her shoulder and all along her back are all but forgotten as Chloe begins to thoroughly slice her tongue in and around her cunt, slowly building Beca further up from where she was before.

Chloe fucks her with a moderate amount of determination and excessive amount of precision. The firm grip she has on Beca’s thigh and the way her forearm is pressed across her lower abdomen as she tilts her head every which way to continue her ministrations between Beca’s leg—all of it feels especially excessive tonight as Beca rests against the wall, at Chloe’s mercy. 

She slackens her grip in Chloe’s hair, groaning when Chloe begins to suck gently on her clit. The gentle pressure and warmth of Chloe’s lips and tongue and her mouth only make her clit throb more with the extra attention on it. She wants to feel all of Chloe, however—wants Chloe to possess her and make her forget.

She wants nothing but Chloe all around her and in her, filling her up literally and figuratively until her emotions well up and spill over, like all the desire, love, and affection she has for the woman down on her knees in front of her. Opening her eyes hazily, she tilts her head back down with a heaving gasp and a quick flex of her fingers in Chloe’s hair to get her attention. Chloe slows her kisses and pulls back, face glistening with water.

“Are you okay?” Chloe rasps thickly. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” Beca murmurs quickly. “No, not at all. I just—” her breath catches in her chest as Chloe’s fingers trail a quick, succinct path between her legs where her fingers gently begin pushing through Beca’s folds. “Yes,” she moans out, unable to keep her leg up on Chloe’s shoulder any longer. Chloe adapts quickly and stands with shocking swiftness so that she is holding Beca’s body up against the wall with her own. With her free hand, she hikes Beca’s leg up around her hip, eyes trained intently on Beca’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“But you’d tell me if I hurt you, right?” Chloe asks quickly, puffing out quick breaths against Beca’s neck as she begins a slow, steady rhythm with her fingers. Beca’s eyes nearly cross as she nods weakly. Forgetting about the pain in her shoulder, she lifts both arms to wrap around the back of Chloe’s neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

The only way you could hurt me is by leaving.

The reality of Chloe one day leaving—by choice or otherwise—makes Beca’s eyes fly open. Her breathing stutters and she gasps along with Chloe’s thrusts. She grips tighter, nails scrabbling against the skin on Chloe’s back as she tries to prolong her impending orgasm. Chloe’s breathing is laboured against her ear and Beca’s sensitive hearing picks up the minuscule whines that Chloe emits every now and then, audible even over the sound of rushing water. She closes her eyes, reaching for whatever bit of skin she finds available, and finally sinks her teeth gently against Chloe’s shoulder to muffle the sharp cry that she knows will escape as she comes hard around Chloe’s fingers. She clenches tight, like her body is already desperate to keep Chloe inside her and pressed against her. She aches terribly, in both a pleasurable and painful way, but all of it is so, so worth it.

Chloe is pressing slow kisses against the side of her head and along her shoulder as she comes down slowly from her high. As Chloe moves to pull her fingers out, Beca shakes her head once before lifting her gaze to Chloe’s. “Stay,” she implores. “Just a bit longer.”

Chloe’s brow furrows before her expression softens and she leans in to nuzzle her nose against Beca’s before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Please don’t leave me, Beca thinks, but she does not say it aloud. She trembles at the weight on her shoulders, nestling closer to the one person who could very much break her altogether in a million different ways.

* * * * *

Back in Chloe’s room, Chloe closes the door, eyes trained intently on Beca’s movements as she settles back in Chloe’s bed comfortably. Chloe’s bed is significantly smaller than Beca’s bed at her father’s house—perhaps it might even be considered tiny—but Beca isn’t complaining as she settles under Chloe’s heavy comfortable and watches Chloe tidy up. She winces when Chloe gingerly picks up the small pistol that Beca had laid on top of her jacket and moves it carefully into her drawer for safekeeping. She hangs Beca’s jacket up in her closet among her own clothes. The simple act warms Beca’s heart long enough that she momentarily forgets about the worries clogging her mind. They return in full force however when Chloe’s gaze returns to her.

“Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?” Chloe asks, her brow furrowing in concern.

Beca tries to smirk. “After what we just did in the shower?”

Chloe frowns further. “Beca…I don’t…even know what happened to you, still.” She slowly climbs into bed next to Beca, cuddling in close. Beca can tell Chloe is still concerned with how carefully her hand comes up to rest on her chest. “Was…was what we did okay?” 

Beca winds her arm gingerly around Chloe’s head, reaching up to tangle in Chloe’s damp curls. “It was,” she promises. “I needed to feel you, Chlo. You make it all…go away.” 

Chloe worries her lower lip between her teeth. “I do?” 

“More than you know. I’ve told you this,” Beca reminds her gently. 

“Tell me what happened to you,” Chloe requests softly.

Beca swallows, flashes of pain and hurt returning to her with full force. The weight of Chloe’s head settles on her uninjured shoulder. She knows she ought to get it checked out as soon as possible, but she feels warm and safe in Chloe’s bed; in Chloe’s arms.

“I’m scared,” Beca admits finally after a few moments of playing with Chloe’s hair. 

Chloe lifts her head slightly, propping her chin up. “Of what?”

“Losing you.”

It isn’t the first time that Beca has admitted it aloud—the first time, tears in both their eyes, still echoes in her head like a permanent reminder of the burden she has to carry with her forever. This is, however, a moment that Beca feels like it is more and more a reality.

“You won’t,” Chloe promises, as steady as ever. “Bec, I keep telling you—”

“I know,” Beca says hastily. “I just…this is my life,” she admits forlornly. “This is my life and how I have to live…and I don’t want you to get hurt, above all.”

Chloe leans up to kiss her, surprising her with how soft and passionate the kiss is. Beca cups the back of Chloe’s head tenderly, eager to let the conversation fade away and continue this if anything, but Chloe pulls back too quickly for Beca’s liking. She whines in protest, but quietens at Chloe’s expression.

“I’m an adult, Beca,” Chloe mumbles. She reaches up to trace Beca’s lips with her index finger. “I know how to handle myself.”

Beca closes her eyes. It’s what every person in her position would dream of hearing if this were some kind of romantic movie where danger was rather limited, but she knows that no matter how many assertions Chloe makes, Chloe has absolutely no idea what the reality is. Or how bad it is.

“I could have died tonight,” Beca admits. Chloe’s hand slows before it drops away. “I could have died because I was stupid and I wasn’t thinking…and that means something. But…” she inhales deeply at the frozen expression on Chloe’s face. “But all I could think of was you. And how I couldn’t bear to lose you. Or what it would be like to never see your face again.”

fin for now.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

God’s Snowdrop - Dio Brando (Non Vampire AU)

"Where were you?!" my father's drunk voice rasped from the living room as soon as I entered the house. "Mother's funeral..." I muttered, trying to slip away to my room. "That gives you no excuse to get home empty-handed! You think we can go by daily with no money?! You think I, alone, can support the both of us?! You are 10 years old, you should bring money by now too, you lazy bitch!" he yelled, before the sound of a stumble was heard, and I locked myself in my bedroom before he could reach me. "Honestly...Not even on her funeral day can you be decent...Fucking pig..." I growled, staying on the window pane and continuing my book reading. 

The next day, after I was able to sell all the flowers and matchboxes, I was able to sit at the foot of a tree and study the same medicine book that I've been reading for this whole year... The one my mother bought me om my birthday, just before she died, as she knew my dreams were of becoming a doctor. Dreams... That's all they will be... Only far away dreams... But at least I can try. 

It's not like I have anything better to do. I didn't realise how time passed, until a blond boy with a scowl on his face stood above me, snapping me from my studying.

"What can I help you with?" I asked in a soft voice, looking up at him with a tired expression. "You're in my spot! Move over!" he growled in rage, and I could only nod. "Okay, sorry about that, I didn't know." I picked up the basket near me and decided to leave home, before he grasped my wrist tightly, turning me around. "What are you? A sewer rat, or a rich bastard? I can't tell and it's annoying me!" he sneered, but in a way he seemed to be thinking something else entirely. "Something in between, I guess? My mother was a tailor and used to work for upper and middle class people, so she would always make pretty dresses for me and made sure to always look my best. On the other hand, I suppose with how the house is almost collapsing on us, we're not too far away from actual alley rats." I shrugged nonchalantly, looking up at the pink evening sky. "How old are you? You seem to have the audacity to speak like a much older and noble snob." he scoffed, glaring at me. "I am 10 years old. My name is Katrina Stark, since you seem to be asking quite a lot of questions. I'm nobody important, just the girl who sells flowers and match boxes so her father can have enough booze to pass out faster. Now, may I go home, Mister I-Have-No-Name?" I tiled my head to the side slightly, waiting for the seal of approval. "What an ill-mannered woman, you don't even ask for my name. I am Dio Brando, you better remember that name! Despite how rude you are, it seems you are capable enough to read? Whatever could someone like you be able to read? Nursery rhymes?" he laughed condescendingly as he snatched the book from my grasp. "Not quite what I would call nursery rhymes..." I muttered, looking away, slightly uncomfortable. "You...You...Read medical textbooks...? A mere 10 year old dumb little girl? And you wish to tell me you understand the words written here? And how these apply to the human body?!" he stared at me with a lowkey angered expression, shifting his expression from the book to myself. "My mother bought me that book. She suffered from an unknown illness and I vowed to discover a cure for said illness. Tell me what you want, it's not like I care in particular, but nobody's words are going to stop my ambitions and dreams. And, for the record, yes, I do understand what it is written here. I could read since I was 5, and I'm not that stupid as to not be able to corelate the text to real life." with a deadpan expression, I snatch the book away from the boy who seemed to be almost double my height, and turned around to go to my home, hiding the book at the bottom of the basket and counted the money.

I muttered a curse as I realise I could only buy 4, instead of the 5 bottles of liqueur that father wants, and I was short 1 coin... But I had no more flowers nor match boxes. Damn it. What could the odds of him being asleep be, I wonder? Maybe if I wait outside long enough, he will fall asleep? Or maybe I can somehow find something to sell? But what? I then realised that I kept 2 oranges in the basket, as a lunch, but I was much too absorbed in my lecture to realise my hunger, and I could sell them for that coin... But now... Who would want oranges? It's already dark outside and it's pretty dangerous on these dirty streets of London... And yet, it's much more dangerous inside. Soon enough, wandering the strewts, trying to avoid any drunk or scary men, I find a policeman, so I rush to him, tugging on his sleeve, with a puppy face.

"Mister policeman, please, would you please buy these oranges? Just one coin! I can't go home if I don't sell everything." I beg him, putting my hands together, fingers intertwined as if praying. "A little girl like you shouldn’t be wandering these streets at such an hour. Go straight home, alright?" the policeman smiled kindly at me as he put the coin in my hands. 

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thanked him and rushed back home - Home that was glued to a bar, and bought the usual delivery from the bartender since he knew I would just give it to my father, not without seeing the pity look in his eyes. When I arrived home, I put the 5 bottles next to his bed, but I had no idea where he was...Until a crash came from the kitchen and I knew I had to run to my room. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough, and he caught me by the neck of my dress, slamming me on the ground. 

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO LATE?! DID YOU SLACK OFF AGAIN?!" he shouted at me. "P-People didn't want to buy today, I'm s-so sorry! But I got the 5 bottles! They're in your room!" I tried to stutter out defensively, but no excuse was enough for him to forgive me, so I bitterly accepted the beating...Not that it was anything new.

The next day, just as usual, I went to the field after making sure I got all the coins, and started reading, however, on my way there, I noticed a few kids playing, but one was on the ground, his pants torn at the knee, with his skin scraped, crying.

“Do you want me to fix that?” I asked simply, crouching down next to him. “Can you?” the boy asked, wiping his tears away, as his friends gathered around him. “Of course I can. Good thing I carry ointment and cloth with me, just in case.” I muttered, taking out the marigold ointment I made, I get the water bottle, water the cloth, cleaned the wound, then applied the treatment quickly on the wound and bandaged the kid’s knee. “There, all done. You should be fine by tomorrow.” I shrugged, gathering my things, ready to leave. “Thank you so much, miss! You’re amazing!” he cheered in glee, getting back again and playing with his friends. “Tsk...Lame.” I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see, before I went to read again, careful not sit at the foot of the same tree, so the boy wouldn't bother me again. 

What a joke, though. He would be bothered by something no matter where I'd be, I'll soon come to realise, as today, again, he was there. 

This time, however, he sat down next to me and took the book in his hands, skimming through it calmly. 

"Uhm...Hello...Dio." I mumble unsurely, looking at the boy who acted as if he owned the place. "It's one of the best books on the market. Must have cost a fortune." he speaks, completely out of context. "I...Suppose so. I wasn't able to step into a bookshop...Or a library, for the matter. I will trust your word for it." I shrugged, resting my chin on my knees. "Your mother knows her stuff well. Does she have nurses, midwives or doctors as relatives?" Dio asks, and I merely shrug once again. "I don't know. To be fair, I don't particularly know anything about my family." I spoke nonchalantly, humming slightly. "Why don't you ask her today? I am rather curious." he passes me the book back, but I could only stare at him with a dead expression. "She's dead." was all I said, as I noticed his eyes widen slightly. "I see." his voice went down in realisation. "Her funeral was 2 days ago. He didn't want to come. Said he'd drink in her honour...Tsk, what a joke. Men are such a joke...They charm a woman, steal her from her family, then get married, have a child...Then they stop working, while also demanding their wives to work to death, only to use the money on alcohol...Disgusting..." I took the book from his hands, but I didn't have the power to open it from all the pent up rage I held in my heart. "My mother's disease was actually just stress and body over-exhaustion. That much is obvious...Everyone knows...But nobody wants to say a thing. This society should just burn." I sneered, forgetting for a moment that there was someone next to me. "Your words are bold for someone so young and small." he praises lowly, turning his head to look at me. "...Words mean nothing if you can't do anything about it." I reply simply, tilting my head to look at him dead in the eyes. "Why are still here? You have nothing to gain from hanging around me. I have no way of benefiting you in any way. So, why...?" I asked in a firmer voice, yet it was still light and gentle. "You are right, I have nothing to gain from you. I shall take my leave." he started getting up, but I grasped his sleeve, not raising my head. "Won't you stay for a bit more? I haven't talked to someone in a while. I forgot how nice it is." I explain how I felt, and for some reason, he sat back down with a confident chuckle. "Heh! Of course you'd want to stay around the great Dio Brando! It is fine, I'm in a great mood today, I suppose I can indulge in some time wasting with some common girl." he spoke, pointing to himself, which made me giggle softly. "You're pretty cute, you know?" I smile softly, which earned a smirk from him. "Keh. So even someone like you can see how great I am. Who knows, Katrina, maybe when I become THE most successful lawyer, I might come back and even greet you." he boasted with full pride. "A lawyer, hmm? I can't say I'd see you as anything else. You seem that kind of person who wouldn't be stopped by laws, morals or ethics and would do anything to get what you wanted and be right. It'd be pretty fun, watching you argue until you win." I hum in amusement. "So even someone insignificant like you can recognise that I will be a flawless lawyer! Maybe you're not so bad after all." he held his head high in pride. “I see you like anyone who flatters you. Some may call you vain, you know?” I gave him a side smile. “I don’t care about others. I am the most important person in my life.” he scoffed with a frown. “That’s a nice life philosophy, you know? Maybe one day I’ll think the same too. Until then, I should still hold this wish to save others.” I hummed in amusement. “I saw what you did to that brat. What did you use?” he asked in curiosity. “Just some marigold ointment I made. It can heal wounds like that pretty fast.” I spoke as a matter of fact. “I see...Not bad, for some common wench like you. I guess you can be more interesting than I thought.” he praised, which made me look at him in surprise. “That’s...Very nice of you to say. Thank you, Dio.” I nodded at him, my cheeks becoming slightly pink. “Azaleas in your hair, hellebore in your eyes and roses in your cheeks. You’re like a nice bouquet of flowers that’s going to wither soon if nobody takes good care of you...Or can you prove me wrong?” he asked, getting closer to me, caressing my rosy cheek with the back of his hand. "Well...Unfortunately, I have to go. It's getting late and I don't want to get in trouble with that poor excuse of a father. It was great talking to you...Maybe we'll see each other again." I picked up my basket, hiding the book once again and waving him goodbye, before rushing to buy the bottles for my father, hoping that I won't mess up again for some reason. 

Days passed one after the other, and Dio was nice enough to come see me daily. I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't about to question it either. Unfortunately, despite how nice this day was, it ended horribly, as I noticed my father coming in my direction. 

"Dio...Do me a favour and leave. And take my book too. I'll see you tomorrow, I think." my voice was trembling softly, glaring at the approaching figure. "What?! How dare you-" Dio glared at me, but I snapped my back at him with pleading eyes, which made him look at me with widened eyes. "Just go...I don't know what he'll do. That's my father there...And the worst he could do is burn this book which would ultimately kill me. Please...Just listen to me and go. I don't want to get you in trouble too." I bit my lip, looking back at the silhouette that was so close now. "Fine. But you haven't heard the end of this." he grumbled, taking my book and going in the opposite direction.  "You, whore! So that's what you've been doing?! Whoring around with random boys and slacking off when you could be earning money?! You're a selfish and worthless slut, just like your mother! Get home right now!" father hollered, his voice echoed throughout the glade, yanking and dragging me by the hair back home. 

The whole night was even more than what one would ordinary call a nightmare, but I could at least consider myself lucky to be alive. I guess. Who knows? Of course, the next day I was forced to make money anyway, and I wasn't able to stay more than an hour on the spot with Dio, which angered him quite a lot. When I was leaving, he quickly put his hand on my shoulder with a little more force than he realised, which made me yelp and jump in my skin slightly. "Why...Did you react like that? Are you afraid of me? You think I'd hit you? Think I'd step so low as to hurt a girl?!" he growled in anger, his grip tightening on my shoulder. "No...It just hurt. Sorry to make you feel bad. Last night was...Not the best." I tried to explain in a way that I wouldn't have to say more. "He beat you?" he spoke bluntly, and I could only look away from him. 

He then got furious and lowered my dress from the neck back, revealing the whip marks on my back, still pink and vivid from last night, spreading down my back like the tangled web of a spider. 

"He did this to you, didn't he?" he muttered, close to my ear. "Do you really need confirmation?" I ask, looking down at the ground. "Why do you do nothing about it? There’s one thing to beat up a man, since that’s how you assert dominance, but doing it to a woman is simply unforgivable." he asked once again. "Do what? I'm nothing more than a useless little girl in a society led by men who think they're so powerful. I have no power. No way to save myself. I have no idea how I could even get the money to get myself into Med school." I gritted my teeth, putting back my dress over my shoulders. "Kill him and keep the money for yourself. You can sustain yourself from the money you earn already. There are still a few years before you can apply for University, it's plenty of time." he explains, and I merely shrugged. "Maybe..." I spoke, barely audible. "I came here to tell you that my father died today, and from tomorrow on, I will be living out of London, with a rich family that is going to support my dream financially. Once I become a Lawyer and can afford sustain myself, I will come back for you. Will you wait for me, Katrina?" he asked, getting in front of me and putting his hands on my face, lifting it up so I would look at him. "Why would you come back for me? I'm a nobody." I ask, frowning in confusion and blushing softly. "Because you believed in my greatness." he kissed my forehead gently. "You are mine now, little Snowdrop, so better not let anyone else touch you, got it?" he spoke in a voice that borderlined possessiveness. "I promise." I put my own hands over his own, closing my eyes and enjoying the last few seconds of serenity.

- 10 years later - 

I was able to get into Med school 2 years ago thanks to a legacy that my mother hid away from my father in her Will, at the bank. The down part was that I had to pretend to be a man for the whole duration of the University, but my diploma will be written with my actual name on it. 

One day, during my practice at the hospital, we heard that a group of law students in their final year were to visit and see how practices happen around, so they would understand the laws, ethics, morals and how patients fare. 

Being one of the top students, in my 4th year already, I was allowed to present the most ethically challenging cases to the law students, what we ought to choose, and what the other side of the coin is, all while going in clear medical detail. 

My long red hair was tied with a ribbon and draped over my shoulder, while my fringe was framing my face and the large lab coat was hugging my frame as if I was almost trying to hide.

By the end of it all, after hearing discussions and debates between the students, some of them bound to absolute rule and others bound to be less ethical and moral, I listen carefully to what each of them has to say, particularly the blond boy who spoke with great confidence as if he was unstoppable and untouchable by anything around him. He was beyond everything. I wonder...

Could this be the boy I used to know long ago, when I was still very young and fragile? 

The whole day I ran around the hospital all day, and at evening, I was finally able to go home, tired out of my mind. And yet, as I was walking down the wet, cobbled stone streets of London, I heard a voice call out for the "redhead", and since I knew I was the only one around, I fix the deerstalker hat to hide my face and feminine features, turning around, only to see the blond man from earlier. 

  "Yes? How may I help you" I ask in a voice that was desperately trying to be lower than usual. "You're a woman, aren't you? I know who you are." he spoke with a smirk, as he flicked the front of my hat with his fingers, making it fly away and fall on the ground. "Then, my suspicions were correct. You really are Dio Brando." I nodded, my face still passive, and yet, a smile was creeping rapidly on my face. "It has been 10 years, and you can tell that I am the great Dio Brando. Of course, only someone like you would be able to. And to think you were able to study Medicine, just as you dreamt." Dio chuckled, crossing his arms and looking down at me. "I thought you were tall before...Now I really look up at you as if looking for God. Your name truly fits you." I burst into laughter, trying to stifle my giggles with my hand, as Dio was towering over me like an elephant next to a little Corgi pup. "And you look as frail as a Snowdrop, just as you used to before. You barely changed...Yet you at least look like a woman now. And your hair grew beautifully...Soft like velvet..." he muttered, his hands on my hair, as he untied the ribbon and let it cascade down my back. "Do you really fool anyone with this façade?" he hummed in amusement. "I'm not sure. I enrolled as a man, I will graduate and practice as a woman. It's just formalities...I don't know for sure, but it doesn't matter as long as it all works in my favour, in the end." I shrugged, fixing my hair. "I haven't let it down in quite a while." I smiled softly, unconsciously braiding a small streak of crimson. "I told you, didn't I? I would come for you. I always keep my promises. And what a pleasant surprise to see that you're almost done with your studies as well. Where do you live?" he asks, pulling me closer to him. "At home. I can't afford to live anywhere else." I shrugged simply. "What about that bastard?" he sneered in disgust. "Well, what do you think happened?" I smirked, provoking him. "You killed him? Did you really have it in you to kill him, Snowdrop?" he pulled me away to look into my eyes. "I won't say anything that could possibly incriminate me, Mr. Lawyer. However, should you want to pursue a detective path, I might be persuaded to...Drop a few hints?" I smirked, challenging him. "Now I'm intrigued. My University education is almost over and my foster father said he'll buy me a nice house here, in London. Once I no longer have to live in those wretched student halls, you'll come to live with me, got it?" he smirked proudly. "Oh, and what privilege, Monsieur Dio. Is it because you are burning with curiosity to find out how I got into Med school?" I tilted my head to the side with a foxy expression, but next thing I know, I'm being pulled in a deep kiss that left me shocked, breathless and wanting more. "I love it when you challenge me. The fire in your eyes is as powerful as your hair. It's so lovely that I could break you any time, so easily and nobody would notice." he smirked, stroking a strand of my hair. "This Snowdrop thinks you're beginning to talk like a sociopath. Not that I'm surprised in the least, to be fair. Well then, Dio, till we next see each other again. Good luck with your last year of University...Though, luck is the last thing you need." I wink at him with before turning around on my heel, flipping my long hair back, letting it flow graciously in the wind as I walked home, waving lazily at the blond boy who became a man. 

A year went by faster than I expected and before I knew it, I went to see the graduation ceremony, only to see, not surprisingly, that Dio was the top of his year, with top marks, always got scholarships and now he got a ton of job opportunities in London, all of them extremely well paid.

His speech was very Dio-like, full of pride and confidence, which also inspired everyone to believe in him and go to him for any need. After he got off the podium, receiving his diploma, awards, after shaking hands with all the important people there, he walked to where his class was, receiving praises even there. It was obvious that he managed to get everyone to be his little minions.

After they all threw their hats in the air, they decided to go celebrate, so smiling, I was going to go home, before a hand stopped me, and turned me around, only to see Dio himself. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion "Am I not allowed to congratulate you for being the best, as usual?" I shrugged, with a sly smile in my face. "I wasn't expecting to see Snowdrop around. What a nice surprise. But were you going to leave without even greeting me?" he raised his eyebrow, getting closer to my face. “You were pretty busy, I didn't want to disturb you or anything. Today is your day of ultimate glory. Go out, have fun, do whatever men do when they celebrate and...I don't know, enjoy your day with your minions-...I mean classmates." I quickly cover my mistake with a low chuckle, looking down humbly. “Don’t look down when around me! You’re not like the rest, so don’t act like them. Don’t act like some meek, submissive sheep! It pisses me off!” he growled in annoyance, grabbing my face and making me look up. “It was a plant.” I smirked at him, before I pulled him down in a kiss. “What...?” he blinked in surprise, his cheeks becoming rosier. “What are you acting all blushy for, dear? You wanted a challenge, I gave you a hint. Go ahead and figure it all out, will you?” I winked at him, leaving him awestruck, as I went on my merry way back home with a satisfied smirk on my face.

Not too much time passed and we moved in together and he began working, while I was working and studying all day long, both of us making good money and soon enough, he wanted to bring me to meet his foster father and brother for some formalities.  Apparently, Jonathan - or JoJo, shorter - asked Erina to marry him and he wanted all 5 of us to have a nice dinner together.

It was pretty awkward, to say the least, especially since I wasn’t the best when it came to socialisation, but Dio and Jonathan talked enough so that I didn’t really have to say anything.

“Congratulation, JoJo, you found such a beautiful and gentle girl! She will make a great wife and mother for your children.” Mr. Joestar praised, making both of them blush, and I could feel my heart falling, realising where the conversation was going. “Thank you, father. Erina is the best woman I could ever have the pleasure of meeting. I’m really happy I got to meet her and have her be my wife, and I hope I will make her the happiest person alive, just like she does to me.” JoJo confessed, holding her hands. “Aww, JoJo, you’re so sweet. I love you so much!” she smiled bashfully, blushing furiously. “And you, Dio, this young lady is gorgeous! Did I understand correctly from JoJo that she’s an intellectual?” he asked, smiling at us. “Of course she is. I wouldn’t be courting just any common girl that’s only good for cooking and sewing.” he declared proudly, playing with a strand of my hair. “That’s very rare, but commendable. What is it that you do, dear?” he asked me directly. “I’m a Med student in London and I also practice at the University’s hospital.” I managed to speak in a firm voice, not wavering in any way, thankfully. “You practice medicine? Do you wish to become a midwife or a nurse?” he asked, intrigued. “No. Next year I will get my diploma and I will be a fully-practicing doctor.” I explained, which made him raise his eyebrow. “I didn’t know Universities and Hospitals allowed women to train and become doctors! I can’t believe how fast years passed by me! We truly live in a revolutionary era!” he praised, despite sounding like a double-edged compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Joestar. I suppose when you’re good at something, nobody can turn you away.” I spoke with a bit of acid, which made Dio smirk next to me. “It is a wonderful career to be pursuing, dear, but will you have time for the children? Such a profession isn’t easy for a woman, you know? It’s usually either one or the other.” he smiled fatherly at me, but it only pissed me off. “That’s something for the future, father. We’re still very young, we have the whole life ahead of us. It’s the 19th century, after all.” Dio saved me from this conversation. “You’re right, you’re right, how silly of me! I suppose I miss having you two as children around this place, that it only made me think like an old man, wishing to see his grandchildren running around!” Mr. Joestar laughed nostalgic, and I could only sigh in relief.

The dinner didn’t last long after this, and we were allowed to go to our rooms. I stood by the vanity in my nightgown, braiding my long hair in a side tail, not wanting it to bother me while sleeping, but Dio had other plans, as he picked me up and threw me on the bed, stealing away the ribbon from my hand.

“Uh...Dio? Do you want me to tie your hair with my ribbon, or what?” I asked, looking at him in confusion. “Why would you tie your hair without brushing it?” he asked, shaking his head. “Because...I was tired? I don’t know, I don’t usually brush my hair before bed. I only do it in the morning.” I shrugged, getting in a sitting position, looking up at him. “You’re doing a terrible job at taking care of your hair, Snowdrop. Stay still and let me do it.” he said as he sat on the bed behind me, pulling me closer to him, as he started gently brushing my hair. “You could just say that you want to play with my hair, I don’t mind. In fact, I quite like it.” I giggled teasingly, which only made him pull at my hair. “Don’t be silly.” he muttered lowly. “He was declared dead by heart attack.” was the 2nd hint I gave him. “Asian medicine?” he asked suddenly, and after a few seconds of silence, I spoke up. “Is it how you killed your father?” I asked softly, not moving an inch. “How do you know I kill my father?” he sneered as he pinned me down on the bed. “I didn’t...Until you confirmed it.” I smirked in victory, seeing his wide eyes. “I’ve had my suspicions since that last day when we saw each other years ago, when you suggested killing my father, while also having yours dead all of a sudden, and you getting this opportunity to live with the Joestars. You merely confirmed my theory.” I explained to him, which made me sit on his knees, no longer standing above me, yet still looking down at me. “You’re too smart for your own good, Katrina. He deserved it. He deserved to die an even more painful death than he did, but it can’t be helped.” he sneered in anger, as I got up, putting my hands on his face, no longer trying to provoke him. “Do you want to talk about it, my love?” I asked in a gentle voice, not wanting to anger him. “There’s nothing to talk about. He was nothing more than a fucking waste of space who killed my mother. He was a fuckass, just like yours. I spit on his grave before coming here, that’s how much I loathed his existence. I’m glad I was the one to get him out of this world. He’s the reason my mother died. He overworked my mother to death...Just like your shit head of a father did to your father.” he growled in anger, which made me pull him down on the bed, cradling his head to my chest, stroking his hair soothingly. “You did the right thing, Dio. He deserved to die...And you avenged your mother too. You did really good, my dear.” I tried to sooth him. “So what did you use?” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Belladonna berries. I squished them and put the juice in his wine. They cause involuntary muscle paralysis, including the heart, which is why they thought it was a heart attack. Correlated with the fact that he was a drunkie...Nobody suspected poisoning.” I explained everything that happened, which made him raise slightly, resting on his hand to look at me with a proud smirk. “Can’t believe my little Snowdrop was capable of pulling such a nice trick at that age. I’m proud of you.” he praises, kissing me tenderly, raking his fingers through my hair. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Kitten. Don’t listen to that old fart, he can’t tell us how to live our lives. Together, we’re unstoppable and that’s all that matters. Just finish your education and I’ll make you mine, officially. If JoJo has a well paid job, mine will be a hundred times better. If JoJo has a nice wedding, ours will be a thousand times more fabulous...And if JoJo thinks he has a nice wife...Then he should have realised by now that my girl is an infinite times better than his boring housewife Erina. You are mine, Katrina, and there’s never been a person alive who could excite me the way you do.” he kissed me once again, even more passionately than before, rolling himself so he was on top of me. “I don’t know what’s gotten you in such a soft mood, but honestly, you praising me like that really does things to me that I can’t explain. Do it more.” I smiled at him, bringing him closer to me. “You have to deserve it, sweetheart.” he muttered against my skin, as he started kissing my neck, slowly revealing my shoulder. “You still have those marks from years ago. If I could, I would beat that disgusting cockroach to death...But I promise you, nobody will ever even dare of treating you any less than they would treat a Princess. I am a man of my word, and you know it by know.” he growled against my skin, before he kissed my knuckles and made his promise by putting his forehead against mine. “I trust you, Dio. You know I always have and always will.” I intertwined my fingers with his, squeezing his hand, before kissing him once again, letting all the love flow.

[american-teen-against-crime]

SAW RANT TIME

So I was ranting about SAW earlier and I just need to make it into a post. There is SO MUCH IN THIS GAME I JUST LOVE. However for the sake of my fingers typing this all out and your poor eyes if you read all this I will be more focusing on plot, spooks, and such since we already know the puzzles be pretty dope. (spoilers of course)

First off, this game is just so freaky. Like I forget every single time how SCARY it is. The sound design is off the charts, the weird ghost sounds and the static, dripping water and the crashing noises? It’s amazing. The music is beautiful and haunting at times, and at others it’s straight up stressful and terrifying. 

There was legit one point I had to leave the Ryokan and go into town I just couldn’t take the uneasiness anymore. 

And it’s not just the music and sound; the empty, sterile, cold feeling is so freaky. And don’t get me started on the underground baths. That place is terrifying. It just feels dead and like you’re gonna get sick and die in there or something. Or find something you will never be able to forget.

Even the town is kinda unsettling- it’s so empty. Like every Nancy drew game is like this but it’s somehow much more noticeable and odd in this one. You’re not even safe in town due to the dvd, the window scene, and the text message.

As for the actual haunts themselves, I get so freaked out everytime. The baths, the string of doors closing, the two removed, red name, watery footprints, the shadows, and especially the time you get locked in the room. That one gives me so much anxiety I dread it every single time I play the game.

The setting is just so terrifying and honestly I love this game for it. (funny story I waited a while to play this game after it came out because I was deathly afraid of it but that’s a story for another time) (didn’t look in mirrors for a while)

But enough about the spooky stuff. I wanna get into the story. 

There were a few things I noticed on my playthrough of the game this past time. First, Rentaro mentions that the hauntings started when someone saw something in the baths a few years ago. Then the ghost hunters started showing up. At the end of the game he says “I didn’t start that- they did! They wanted a show and I gave it to them!” which makes me wonder. He clearly is referring to the ghost hunters here, the ones that showed up after the first haunting. He got the idea from them. So what was the first haunting?

I’m open to any answer really. You can say that there are no real ghosts at the Ryokan, like Nancy believes. Or you can say that the ghosts are real; which leaves you with two options. 

Kasumi is indeed a ghost haunting the Ryokan. This is either because of her death, or because her will isn’t found yet, but I believe if she really is there Nancy’s actions did help her spirit pass on. I don’t want to go....to much into her death but it’s all very weird for me. But we’ll talk more on Kasumi later.

The other option is that there are other ghosts there besides Kasumi. It wouldn’t surprise me, this place is super old and just has really weird vibes. This would mean that they were around before Kasumi died. 

My thoughts on Kasumi and the family:

As for Kasumi’s death, I’ve always thought it was weird how everyone treated it but it was very integral for the story. Which is why I feel it’s weird not to clear things up? It’s so weird because they say the police considered it to be a homicide. Why? Some people have said they thought it could have been purposeful on Kasumi’s end but I feel like the police would figure that out? (there is the whole business with the sword shrine there at the end) Miwako says they all just let her die there alone, and it’s clear that they all feel guilty for her death, especially Takae. Maybe she fell into the water and didn’t try to get out? I don’t know. This part of the game is still a bit confusing to me, but I guess the important part of information is that they all feel guilty for her death. I also have a theory that it could have happened because of the other ghosts in the Ryokan and that’s why I brought that theory up earlier but that has less backing. 

(if you are having suicidal thoughts or anything relating to that please seek help! For more information please go to this website for services to help you)

But beyond that, I wanna talk about Yumi. Yumi found Kasumi that night; she was only sixteen I believe. Later on when she was old enough she left the Ryokan, wanting to forget the past, “where you keep all the terrible things that have happened”. Yumi is such an interesting character to me; she has this weird friendliness that seems to come so fast. She seems carefree, confident and stubborn, yet she has these moments where the facade drops and you see just how scared she is. She is terrified of the Ryokan, and she is terrified her mother is still there. Based on the DVD I think she’s gotten numerous hauntings herself, and I really feel for her. 

She secretly wants Nancy to figure out what’s going on from the pictures, but she is consistently warning her off it which is a bit weird. I also get the vibe that right off the bat she’s testing Nancy, seeing if she can really do this. I feel like some people can write off Yumi as being a selfish brat, which I understand but at the same time I get it. I’d want to get out of there too. She’s gone through a lot of trauma and I really feel for her. She’s running from her past and trying not to let it catch up to her.

Yumi leads Nancy to her set of numbers so she can solve the puzzle, which makes me think she believed Nancy could figure it out and probably solve whatever puzzle Kasumi had put together, which might end everything. (she was right yo) But after Nancy sees the window message near the very end of the game which says “Yumi I know your secret-I can’t wait to see you again”. That is not only freaking terrifying for us, but in context for Yumi even more so. I may be wrong on this, but I’m guessing the “secret” is that Yumi believes the hauntings are because of her- because she left the Ryokan. This is her fear and what she’s been trying to run from. 

Me thinks Yumi has been seeing this same message many a night and why she sometimes doesn’t stay in her apartment, rather at a friends. Nancy seeing it makes her believe that she hasn’t just been seeing things and that it is real- she tells Nancy not to worry and that she will make everything right. I take this as her saying she will go back to the Ryokan and take over; which is exactly what Rentaro was trying to get her to do with that message. 

Essentially, it’s a good thing Nancy solves the case when she does, otherwise it would have been too late- Rentaro would have won.

As for Takae; we know a lot about her, and I don’t want this to drag on even more, but I want to bring up one particular convo you have with her. She talks about how as she was a child a bird she tried to lure into her room got in and couldn’t get out. How the bird was thrashing and so scared, and how much it hurt Takae to see her like that. At the end Nancy asks why the heck she had to sit through such a lot story, and Takae says “Kasumi is still here. I must help her.” 

Takae wanted Kasumi to stay forever at the Ryokan, hence the food luring bit. But once she got in, once she stayed it wasn’t right- she’s scared and confused and can’t get out- harming herself and others. At least this is how Takae sees it.

This is important because at the end of the game during Nancy’s letter you see a bird on her balcony. When she describes how the Ryokan is getting more guests than ever, the bird is show to have flown away. 

I was always confused at this detail but now I realize that this is the same bird as before- Kasumi. 

Now you can take either enterpretation you want; you can say that because of Nancy, the family is finally able to let go of their guilt that haunted them. The “a ghost doesn’t have to be real to haunt you” bit. They are able to move on and set her free. 

You can also take this as Nancy finding the will and stopping Rentaro literally set her spirit free, and she was no longer trapped haunting the Ryokan. 

Either way you interpret this game, there is something very special to it. It talks about grief and guilt, and how the past affects people. I feel like HeR started to bring up deeper storylines in these later games such as in SAW, CAP, and GTH. But they also left it open to allow the supernatural to be still real as well. 

Shadow at the Water’s edge is probably one of my favorite games and it’s spooky lil butt will always hold a place in my heart. If you read this, I hope you enjoyed me hashing out my thoughts, and please let me know anything you wanna bring up about this game!!!! 

Stay slueghthy my dudes

[glassworkspiderlilies]

the heiress & her companion

Kyokou Suiri (In/Spectre) | Sakuragawa Kuro, Iwanaga Kotoko | AO3 Summary: rumors circulate, parties are attended, and the young iwanaga heiress makes her position known.    Notes: vol 11 is gonna be available to ship tomorrow and i’m very excited about it!!!!!!!! ended up writing another celebratory fic, inspired by a shot of iwanaga in vol 10, where she’s being talked about and she just looks very cool. >:3 this fic has no real context and is pretty hastily written and hardly edited, so please pardon its roughness; just wanted to have fun with it and not agonize over it at all. [EDIT:] this fic has been posted to ao3, with some revisions & additions. :)

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“Hey, have you heard?”

“What, about the Iwanaga heiress?”

“Yeah, seems like she’s been carting around some man, lately—how shameless!”

“Well, she’s still young—I suppose even she isn’t immune to such behavior.”

“Hey, watch your mouth. You know what they say about her.”

“I do know—but it’s not like she can do anything about idle gossip. Such are the ways of the world, and she certainly isn’t immune to that, either.”

“She’s supposed to be here tonight, you know.”

“What? For what? She hardly ever attends these functions!”

“Yeah, her parents don’t allow it, right? After…well. After that incident, some years back.”

“It’s understandable…but that man she’s been toting around? Supposedly she’s been given more freedom to be traveling, with him around.”

“Ah—not a lover perhaps, but a helper?”

“Mmm…I am unsure. They say he’s rather good looking, if plain. But I suppose we will see tonight.”

“Speaking of—why is she attending, anyway?”

“Apparently she’s been receiving a lot of marriage proposals lately. She is of age, after all, and of course, the Iwanaga name…”

“But she’s coming without her parents?”

“The Iwanaga Heiress does things herself, so they say. Hardly one to leave things up to her parents. Ah…does that mean someone has upset her, then?”

“Uh-oh…perhaps this was a bad night to attend, then.”

“There is still time to leave.”

“Yes, I think—”

“Entering! Miss Iwanaga Kotoko, and her companion, Sakuragawa Kuro!”

The doors open and the crowd goes silent—even the band stops playing, and the Iwanaga Heiress steps through the doors with a poise and grace that uncommon even amongst the social elite. Her cane makes a light tapping noise against the floor as she walks, and the young man by her side sticks close, his expression impassive. Hers is too, though the Heiress tends to be generally inscrutable to begin with.

All eyes are on her. It’s not an enormous gathering, especially by society standards, but she seems not at all bothered by the intensity of the attention. Though the young man’s expression remains neutral, he sweeps his eyes around the room, betraying slight nervousness or insecurity. He’s as good-looking yet plain as the rumors say, fairly nondescript in his black suit and purple tie, and he stands close but still at a respectable distance from the lady—a conscious arrangement, and a conscious message.

Some have seen her from afar and some have not seen her at all in years since she made the papers; she still has a childishness about her, visually, and her manner of dress reinforces that. She still prefers softer colors and frills; however, today she is in a deep purple dress with black detailing, and the severity of the colors makes her look more mature despite the Victorian design—and intimidating, due to the contrast. Her hair has grown longer, trailing just past her shoulders, and she still looks every inch of a doll. It’s almost a surprise as she curtseys and speaks, breaking the illusion.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” she says, her voice lower than one would expect, but still young and girlish. It’s a polite and innocent enough statement; bashful, even, coming from a young girl like her. But because it’s from her, Iwanaga Kotoko, it is a pleasantly disguised command for everyone to turn their attention elsewhere, now.

The guests blink and shake themselves out of the brief stupor; the band slowly begins to start up the music again.

The Heiress seems to laugh a little, and turns to say something to Sakuragawa, who leans down to hear her better. He sighs at whatever she says, seeming a little exasperated yet resigned.      

The host of the party comes over to greet her, and she bobs her head in casual greeting while Sakuragawa executes a deeper, more respectful bow.

“Kotoko-san!” the host exclaims, “Goodness, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it? I’m glad you were able to make it tonight! I was thinking that you might not show.”

“Shimada-san. Yes, it has been some time.” She stares at him, a slight smile curving her lips. “And goodness. Why should you think I would not show, when you went to such lengths to convince my parents in order to ensure I would? That would be exceptionally poor behavior on my part had I not come.”

Shimada’s smile grows a bit stiff, but it was he who started the battle. The Heiress looks at him, perfectly innocent, and those who are perceptive enough confirm their suspicions—yes, the Heiress is not exactly pleased with the turn of events; she does not want to be here.

“To the point as ever, Kotoko-san,” he concedes, and she tilts her head a little with a wry expression. He’s not a bad man, if, perhaps, a little prideful. “Though to be fair, your parents did not protest as much as I thought they might. So I assume they, too, wished for some things to be laid to rest tonight.”

The Heiress shrugs.

“I forget, sometimes, how boorish society can be,” she says. She doesn’t even cast her eyes around the room, but several of the guests avert their gazes; though it seems that they are all invested in their own business, they are very much interested in the Iwanaga’s Heiress’ and her companion. “So I allowed them to convince me that I should, in fact, attend. I must say, however, that this was quite the inconvenience. We will not be staying long.”

Shimada bows.

“I have no complaints. I am honored enough that you are here, now.”

Iwanaga chuckles.

“There is no need for such flattery, we both know. Anyway, may I formally introduce my companion, Sakuragawa Kuro-san?”

“A pleasure,” Shimada says, holding out his hand. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Sakuragawa’s smile is equally as opaque as the lady’s as he shakes Shimada’s hand, as if he knows exactly what the man has heard.

“There is hardly much to know about me,” Sakuragawa says, his bashfulness more genuine. “But I suppose when one is carted around by Iwanaga, there is always more to tell.”

A few guests startle at two things: his casual address of the Heiress even though he uses her surname, and his choice of wording afterwards. Those who were gossiping earlier think to themselves that perhaps it really is true, that the Heiress really does have eyes and ears everywhere.

“Perhaps,” Shimada responds, noncommittally. In truth, he is less interested in the companion than the Heiress herself. He turns his head back to Iwanaga. “Since you are here, may I introduce you to my son?”

He waves a young man over, who sets his flute of champagne aside and comes to stand by his father. He’s a handsome man, evidently groomed to a perfect degree. The Sakuragawa boy looks downright shabby next to him, and Shimada’s son looks at him calculatingly, but Sakuragawa simply nods his head politely and does not engage in the silent competition. Shimada’s son blinks; Sakuragawa’s actions could be taken as confidence, but it is more apparent that it is simply absolute disinterest.

“Since you have already done so, hello.” Iwanaga says, nodding her head. She holds out his hand to him.

“Kou Shimada,” he introduces, and kisses the back of her hand. “It is a great honor to finally meet you, Iwanaga-san.”

“Like father, like son,” she chirps, and Shimada coughs.

“If possible, may I trouble you for a dance?” Kou continues, with a slight bow, proffering his own hand.

“Ahh…” Iwanaga says, staring at his hand. She looks up to Sakuragawa, who shrugs, and for a moment it looks like she pouts at him. “I suppose you did just walk over. My apologies, I must refuse; we will not be staying long enough for me to indulge in such a thing. We have a prior engagement that is imperative to be kept.”

“Ah…” Kou blinks in surprise, retracting his hand, but unoffended by her refusal. It’s curiosity that colors his expression as he glances over at Sakuragawa again, and then to his father. Parties such as these are usually the event that takes priority over anything else, but not, it seems, for the Iwanaga Heiress.

“I confess, you said short, but I underestimated how short,” Shimada says, surprised himself. “May I ask what engagement is so pressing, that you cannot even spare a dance?”

Iwanaga chuckles.

“Of course you may ask, but it is none of your business to know. I imagine you’ll hear about it down the line anyway, you always seem to. I only came here today to announce that I, nor my family, will be accepting any further marriage proposals or requests for prospective meetings. They’re a nuisance, you see, and the propriety involved in rejecting them is taking up too much precious time.”

Some slight murmuring breaks out, but the words have been said very intentionally.

Shimada chuckles, and inclines his head.

“Well, one certainly can’t get clearer than that,” he says, his expression wry. “The rumors are true, then?”

Iwanaga smiles, and Sakuragawa sighs.

“Some of them, perhaps. In any case, I have a man that I’m not letting go of.”

Shimada looks at Sakuragawa, who turns his head, as if by not making eye contact he can avoid assumptions. The older man looks at the companion up and down, trying to see any distinguishing features that he might outshine Shimada’s own son in.

“Your preferences are strange, Kotoko-san,” Shimada says with a shrug, and Iwanaga laughs again.

“Not at all. What I like are men who can understand me. That pool is very small, to begin with. And besides, Kuro has a unique constitution that is suitable to my tastes.”

“Iwanaga,” Sakuragawa hisses, at this, gripping the top of her head in a claw hold, “What did I say about this? Stop saying such salacious and misleading things.”

“Hey! Do not do that in public, thank you,” she snipes back, dislodging her head and smoothing down her hair. “Forgive his manners,” she continues, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Some guests are better than others at hiding their shock, at the behavior of both the Heiress and her companion.

“And please forgive hers,” Sakuragawa adds on, with a significant look at the Heiress. “In any case—Iwanaga. It’s time.”

“So it is. Shimada-san, Kou-san. We shall take our leave here.”

The two bow, and begin to walk away.

“Sakuragawa-san!”

The two turn, surprised at the address. Shimada blinks at his son, surprised that he’d called out.

“In your opinion…what kind of man is best for Iwanaga-san?” Kou asks, his face serious.

Sakuragawa blinks, but Kou stands firm in his question. He is—intrigued, somehow, by the indifference that Sakuragawa seems to exude while maintaining familiarity he has with the Heiress.

Sakuragawa looks up at the ceiling briefly, thinking, before returning his gaze to Kou and smiling.

“Let’s see…a monster, perhaps?” he says, with an odd sort of cheerfulness.

The Heiress chuckles, but the kind of laugh that suggests a private joke is being shared. But there’s something also—ominous, about the way she laughs, and her eyes when she notices him staring send a chill down his spine.

“Have a good evening,” she says, with finality, and the two leave without further interruptions.  

“Well,” Shimada says to his son, after a moment, “That could have gone worse, I suppose.”

“It was…certainly interesting,” Kou says, his eyes still lingering at the door. “I suppose that’s the last of the Iwanaga Heiress we’ll see in person for a while, then.”

“As much as I tried to set you two up,” his father begins, taking a glass of wine from one of the passing waiters, “Perhaps that’s a good thing.”

Kou hums in response, and his father walks away to talk to some other guests, while Kou is swarmed by a different group who want to talk about what had just transpired. The companion, treating the Heiress like that, the audacity! And yet—the Heiress’ own reaction, exceedingly human. Kou listens, mostly, and thinks back to the Heiress’ and Sakuragawa’s expressions before they had left.

A monster, huh? He wonders, and shudders at the implication, and what that leaves unsaid about the both of them.

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“So,” Kuro says, as they walk outside and get into the car that is waiting for them, “Was that really necessary?”

He nods to the driver once Iwanaga has settled in comfortably, and they set off towards the train station.

“Well, I suppose there are other ways that it could have been done, but this was the second most effective way. Shimada-san is very influential, and so are his parties; with this, the news will spread without having to do anything extra.”

“Then what was the first most effective?”

“Announcing an engagement between us, of course.”

“Ah…forget I asked.”

“Kuro!! We’ve been dating for three years now, isn’t about time for our relationship to advance?!”

“You call me by my first name now without any honorifics, isn’t that advancement enough?”

“It isn’t that different, is it?! And you still call me Iwanaga!”

“Wasn’t that your own request, because you didn’t like Kotoko?”

“I’ve changed my mind! Do it now!”

“Okay, Kotoko.”

“Ahh—! As expected, it’s unpleasant! Fine, you may still address me as Iwanaga.”

“Good. It is hard to say, after all.”

“Kuro—!”

“Ahahaha!”

“How many times do I have to say, don’t just laugh about these things!”

He continues to laugh, of course, as Iwanaga pouts.

“In any case, this should stop the troublesome proposals for a while. The less I have to participate in these high-society politics, the better.”

“Please take your parents into consideration, as well. You can’t simply escape being the Iwanaga heir.”

“Oh, they’ll be fine, and I’m not escaping anything. They understand my situation very well—at least, as much as is within their capability. I’m handling what I need to in both worlds—I am a bridge, after all. And besides, I have you now. And, my parents like you too.”

“I think they’re just relieved that there’s someone who can actually look out for you…”

“Eh…it all amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? What I’m saying is…they approve of you. So…”

“That’s nice—I like them too, they’re good people.”

“Then…!”

“I feel bad that their only daughter and heir is someone like you…”

“KURO!”

He laughs brightly again as she pounds his arm.

“Oh, forget it,” Iwanaga grumbles, as she looks out the window. Kuro smothers a smile; despite it all, she recovers easily. “Anyway, our next case might take a while. Are you prepared?”

“Does it matter, if I am or not?”

“Please take this seriously. You place such little value on your life, for understandable reasons, but still.”

Kuro closes his eyes and lets out a soft, short laugh.

“I am taking this seriously.” He looks at her, and she blinks at the seriousness of his expression. “Iwanaga. You have your job. I have mine.”

She stares back, tilting her head in question after a few moments.

He sighs, deeply. Even now she fails to understand her own mortality, and the danger she puts herself in without thinking twice when mediating for spectres.

“You just focus on what you need to do,” he says, as he looks out the window. “I’ll follow.”

There is a moment of silence before Iwanaga reaches out and hugs his arm. He looks at her and sighs, patting her head, and she squeezes his arm tighter.

“You should do more than just follow,” she murmurs into his arm, knowing that he won’t hear.

“I told you years ago I wouldn’t let you fence me in just yet,” he says.

“And I asked if you really thought you could still get away from me,” she retorts, letting go of his arm and leaning back in her seat. “You say all this, but it’s been three years. And you’re still here.”

“I know, I can’t believe it…is this some kind of additional curse…?”

“Hey!”

He laughs at her expression again, and they let the subject matter drop here, on a light note, like they always do.

Iwanaga switches gears and fills him in on the details of their next case and a rough outline of her plan, though it will probably change midway through with the new information that they’ll collect. Kuro stares as she goes into her focus-mode, twirling a section of her hair with her fingers as her eyes glaze over. Though he’ll never admit it to her out loud, it is a joy to watch her work. Iwanaga is as ruthless as she is fair, despite her innocent looks, and Kuro—well. He’s not exactly kind, either. He doesn’t mind being her halberd. And despite all of his teasing, Iwanaga is right—it’s been three years, and he hasn’t chosen to leave. He doesn’t think he knows how to, anymore.

He leans back in his seat as well, turning his gaze out the window. His lips quirk up into a slight smile. She wants him to walk beside her instead of follow, he knows, and not in the physical aspect. But that also means getting caught up in her pace, that’s something he has to be careful of. She needs someone to watch her back, if it is monsters, demons, and yokai that pull her forward.

So Kuro follows, and will continue to do so, as she lights the path up towards the future she so unwaveringly chooses, looking for him every step of the way.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [919]

"But you aren't dating each other," Max says, looking around the table. “Am I the only one who sees the flaw in this logic?”

“But there’s money involved,” Ellana says.

“Do you even need money?” Evelyn narrows her eyes and gestures to the room around them. “Are you two not paid enough?”

“This may come as a shock to you, Evelyn, but him being an architect and me being an art restorer doesn’t exactly bring in the big bucks,” Ellana replies. “I know it seems that way because of how beautiful a life we lead. But the real riches aren’t to be found in capitalist symbology but in the memories we’ve made.”

“We’re middle class,” Bull says, pouring Evelyn another glass of wine. “Comfortable middle class. But winning the prize money will do a lot for our mortgage and possibly help us put aside to replace Ellana’s shitty car.”

“My car isn’t shitty.”

“You car is running on dreams at this point.”

“It’s a shitty car,” Mahanon says to his sister. “You deserve a citation for driving that thing around. You might as well just walk around wildly waving around a flame thrower and a knife.”

“While yes, the money part is something of a question, that wasn’t the main flaw I was thinking about.” Max turns to Herah. “Please tell me I don’t have to say it out loud.”

Herah smirks at him as she passes Josephine the large wooden salad bowl. “You’re going to have to say it. Verbalize it. Put words to the exact reason why this is dumb as all hell.”

Max turns to the happy couple who are now bickering about Ellana’s car.

“You two cannot enter a reality show based on dating each other and falling in love. You’re married and have been deeply in love with each other for years. Years. Evelyn was still in undergrad when you two met. She’s got a masters now. She’s gainfully employed.”

“Married people can still date,” Ellana protests. “Bull and I go on dates with each other all the time. In fact, it’s a sign of a relationship taking a downturn if the couple doesn’t still go out on dates with each other. Or. You know. Old age and poor health. But Bull and I only have one of those things going for us.”

“Your young wife is being considerate of your advanced years,” Herah says to Bull who scowls at her.

“She’s the only reason you get invited into this house Adaar.”

“No, I’m also Josephine’s girlfriend and if you’re going to be inviting your best friend over you’re going to have to deal with me coming along.”

Bull looks at Josephine. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Josephine rolls her eyes. “Bull, you’ve been saying that for years.”

“And I still mean it.”

“They aren’t going to let you on the show,” Maxwell continues to try and get through to Ellana, “When you sign up they’re obviously going to check if you two already know each other. They’re going to do background checks. If they even glance at any of your social media pages you’ll be screwed. I forget which account belongs to which one of you sometimes. And if they ask anyone from around town they’ll mention your status as a dazzlingly happy couple. It isn’t going to pan out.”

“You’re giving the producers too much credit for a trashy reality show on the brink of being pulled off air.”

“If they’re paying out that much money to the winners then I’m giving them a baseline level credit,” Max retorts. “Seriously. They’re going to check. How are you going to avoid that?”

“Who in their right mind is going to think a Qunari ex-pat and a Dalish immigrant are going to be married in Orlais?” Ellana throws her arms up. “They’re not going to check!”

“They might check,” Mahanon concedes. “Maybe I should enter with the Iron Bull.”

“So you can date my husband on TV?”

“So I can get a cut of the prize money when I definitely pull this off for you two.” Mahanon turns to Evelyn who’s giving him the stink eye as she sips her wine. “Geology doesn’t pay as much as anyone would like.”

Ellana turns to Bull. “Your thoughts on dating my brother on TV?”

“I’d rather date you,” Bull answers, “But it’d be hilarious while it lasts. I’m not going to kiss your brother on the mouth on TV though. Even if I have permission, I don’t have the mental fortitude for it, so it probably won’t pan out.”

Mahanon rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to come after you for cheating on my sister by making a pass at me on TV. It’s fake.”

“There’s that, but also the thought of me doing any kind of romantic or sexual gesture to you in any context makes something inside of me want to die,” Bull replies. “No offense. You’re handsome and all that. But you terrify me.”

“This isn’t going to work,” Max says. “I don’t understand why I’m the crazy one for saying this out loud. Did we take a dip into some sort of parallel universe where there’s no logic?”

“Chill out and have some more wine,” Herah says, “Or a soda. Whatever it is you’re drinking. You really plan on driving back tonight? It’s already late. Just stay over.”

“Can’t, I got called in for a shift tomorrow,” Max replies. “Thankfully it’s an afternoon shift, but I’d prefer to go home tonight and be able to shower and change and freshen up before I have to go into the office.”

“I still don’t understand what you do for a living,” Mahanon tells Max, “And I haven’t decided if that’s suspicious or admirable.”

“It’s both,” Evelyn says. “As someone who’s had to listen to him try and explain what he does multiple times I’m going to tell you it’s both.”

“So when are you two going to apply for the TV show?” Josephine asks. “Does that mean one of you will have to move out and live somewhere else for a while?”