#i was watching dirk gently again and it this came to me in a dream

[shitslikethis]

these two give off the exact same vibe and i really can’t explain it, please don’t ask me to

[cartasmojadas]

Another scene from the childhood friends dirkjohn AU I’ve been messing around with. Takes place after this and before this. 

John pierces Dirk’s ears.

John is already in his pajamas when he hears the rhythmic tapping on his window. He lets out a short yelp before remembering that Dirk had already told him he was on his way.

“Aren’t you grounded?” John pushes the window open and yawns. 

Dirk shushes him and uses John’s shoulders as leverage as he goes through the familiar motions of crawling through the second-story window into John’s bedroom.

“I am grounded, Egbert, so keep it down unless you want to rat me out.” 

John rolls his eyes but braces himself for Dirk’s weight as he finally finds his footing. Dirk lands gracefully and quietly. 

His Dad and sister are already asleep, he thinks but even if they weren’t, Dirk always moves so quietly John doesn’t think they would even be able to notice. 

“You still down to help?” Dirk asks as he closes the window behind him before making himself comfortable on John’s bed. 

John turns on the classical music station the old radio is stuck on and hopes that it adds a quiet buffer to their voices. 

“Help with what? You should be helping me with my geometry homework. I think I might actually fail next week’s test.”

Dirk waves him off, “I’ll help with that later, or better yet, you should come to tutoring with the guys from the engineering club.” He digs through his backpack. 

An uncomfortable tightness spreads over John’s chest. A feeling he’s becoming a little more familiar with. 

John frowns and joins Dirk on the bed, their sides pressed against each other until Dirk freezes for a moment and scoots away, and ends up dangerously close to the edge of the bed. 

“Why can’t we just do one-on-one?” 

Dirk stops rummaging for his supplies and looks at John through the reflection on the dressing mirror hanging on the wall. Dirk watches John’s expression sour as he stares at his empty hands like he sees something Dirk can’t.

They look like an unlikely pair, with John dressed in mismatched socks, an oversized t-shirt, and his hair already sticking up in all sorts of directions like he was already sleeping; while Dirk looks like he is ready to head out to a rave with his meticulous hair and carefully planned black outfit.

“Do you not like the guys from the club?” Dirk asks. It’s a question he’s been meaning to ask for a while. As much as Dirk craves spending time alone with John, he’s doing his best to avoid the awkwardness that has seeped into their relationship. But he worries that their interests are just a little too different. 

They just don’t seem to click the same way ever since Dirk came out.

John’s frown deepens, “No, they’re fine,” he swallows. He’s not sure how to tell Dirk that the reason he doesn’t like hanging out with the engineering club because he feels left out whenever he’s with them. John loves to see his friend in his element, it means that Dirk shines brighter, drawing everyone in. But John always gets stuck watching on the sidelines as Dirk’s friends monopolize his attention. And it makes John, by his own private admission, irrationally jealous. 

He doesn’t like the way that makes him feel.

“Then why not? I think there are a few dudes who are better at explaining math, compared to me.” Dirk hands John a small pink plastic tray with a cheery depiction of a happy sun and clouds.

“I just can’t focus the same way,” John says with enough definitiveness that Dirk simply nods. 

“For sure, okay.” He drops a couple of sandwich bags on the tray. When they make a dull clacking sound John stares down at the contents. 

Dirk smirks, “You ready to pierce my ears?”

John’s jaw and stomach drop in tandem. “What?” He squawks. “Are you nuts?”

“C’mon, Egbert,” Dirk doesn’t beg but his voice is dripping with nervous adrenaline in a way John hasn’t heard in a while. 

It’s contagious.

“I can’t ask anyone else. I wouldn’t trust Rose or Roxy to not fuck up my earlobes.”

And that eases the tension in John’s chest. 

“Why can’t you go to a parlor or something? Tell Roxy to take you to Claire's.” John is already moving to face Dirk, inspecting his earlobes from afar.

More of the tension dissipates when a single choked laugh escapes Dirk. 

“They require parental consent and we both know my dad would never agree.”

“He’s gonna kill you when he sees your ears tomorrow. And if he finds out  I helped he will never let me see you again,” John sighs knowing full well that wouldn’t stop him from seeing Dirk. He begins inspecting Dirk’s tools. 

“He won’t find out,” Dirk’s voice drops to a low whisper, “It’ll just be a secret between us bros. Right?” 

Dirk means to sound teasing, recalling the way they used to share secrets and promises as kids, but instead, he flinches when he catches John looking away, his ears bright red. The sight triggers the plume of something hot that rises from his gut whenever he’s reminded of how bad he’s crushing on John and how much it probably inconveniences his friend.

John is not embarrassed. 

Or he is but not for the reasons Dirk suspects. 

There’s something in Dirk’s tone that forces some of John’s suppressed dream memories to resurface and John knows he needs to collect himself before he tries to make eye contact again. 

“So,” Dirk clears his throat, “Go wash your hands? I’ll look up some youtube videos?” he says quietly.

Grateful for the excuse, John jumps out of the bed wordlessly and scrambles out the door. 

John returns a few minutes later with clean hands and a wet face. 

Dirk smirks, “I said wash your hands not take a shower.” 

John shrugs, “Hey, you have a ten-step face routine, I wash my face with soap and call it good.”

John sticks his tongue out when Dirk grimaces, “We will fix that later,” Dirk mutters and pats the empty spot on the bed. 

Carefully, John climbs back in the bed and takes in the faintest scent of menthol and nicotine that comes off Dirk when he leans closer to show him the video on his phone. It’s probably the reason why he’s grounded in the first place. A small act of rebellion toward his strict parents.

Both boys shift uncomfortably and do their best to focus on the instructions on the video and not on each other’s proximity. 

They have to watch the video multiple times and after the sixth time, John tells Dirk he thinks he’s ready. 

He puts on the latex gloves Dirk brought with him and preps the tools on the plastic tray that Dirk holds over his lap. He’s shaking as he straddles (hovering, neither could handle it if John just took a seat on Dirk’s thigh) and starts massaging Dirk’s earlobe the way the woman on the video instructed.

Dirk’s breathing is staggered and John wonders if Dirk is more nervous than he originally let on.

“I-Icepack?” Dirk chokes out. 

“R-right,” John breathes out and reaches for it. He holds it to Dirk’s ear and quietly counts to 30 and then reaches for the safety pin. 

Dirk’s head is spinning unable to focus on a single thing and instead finds himself on sensory overload. John’s the closest he’s ever been to Dirk since they used to wrestle in elementary school, and Dirk desperately pleads to whatever benevolent power might have mercy on his hormonal teenage ass that they keep his body in check.

He’s also acutely aware that the icepack wasn’t very cold and that piercing his ear is probably going to hurt a lot.

“Okay, ready?” John’s voice shakes.

“Just do it, man, do it. Fucking stab me. Pop my goddamn ear cherry. Do it, dude.” Dirk’s voice also shakes.

John takes a sharp breath in and pushes. 

Dirk hisses and curses. He reaches for a fist full of John’s shirt. It might have made John self-conscious of their position if he wasn’t also shivering with adrenaline. 

He follows the next steps of the video and makes a move to get off Dirk. 

“Wait, what about the other one?” 

John groans, “Bro, no. I can’t. My legs are freakin’ jelly. That was terrifying!”

Dirk tightens his grip on the shirt, “John, you can’t leave me with one pierced ear.”

John chews on his lip. “Fine,” He groans again, “But don’t you ever forget I’m your best friend.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so bitter but the words roll out of John’s mouth with enough edge to make Dirk look at him with a puzzled expression. 

John a lot less gentle and Dirk, knowing what’s coming, can’t hold back a garbled sob. 

Glad that the worst is finally done, John gently wipes away a runaway tear from Dirk’s face and softly shushes him. 

“And now we wait,” He carefully moves off Dirk. 

Dirk nods and balls his to keep from reaching up to touch his pulsing ears. 

There’s the loud artificial sound of a phone shutter. 

“Sorry,” John mumbles. “I wanted a picture to commemorate the occasion,” he says with a sheepish smile. 

What Dirk means to sound like an annoyed huff comes out as a stumbling suspire. 

“C’mere, let’s take a selfie.”

John beams, his nerves finally calming and a deep sense of peace washing over him. The bed is loud as he crawls back over and lets Dirk put an arm over his shoulders to pull him in carefully. 

Dirk takes the picture and frowns down at the exhausted faces on screen. 

They take another one once Dirk has the studs in. 

That one becomes John’s home screen.

[drjohndisco]

Blackwing Blues

Pairing: n/a

Warnings: death, blood, mentions of sedatives.

Summary: Mo visits Dirk while they’re confined at Blackwing.

Word Count: 698

Notes: This took me a month and 3 days (or thereabouts) to write, and I still have no idea if I’m happy with this. :/

‘Don’t touch my hair!’ Morpheus shouted.

Their hair was one of the only things Morpheus had had control of when out of Blackwing; to have it cut now (right when it was exactly where they wanted it to be) would be devastating. And so, they did the only thing they could think of. They connected to the guards and fought back.

Light flew out of their hands and their eyes rolled back into their head; making them slump against their bed. Images of the guards' worst fears and insecurities flew into Mo’s mind. Using this Morpheus made the guards fly backwards and hit the walls with a thump -- clutching at their heads with their hands.

‘Oh, do shut up.’ Morpheus said, as they ran their hands down their trousers; stressed. They didn’t want attention. Not now, not from any of the Blackwing higher-ups.

At these words a pair of scissors materialised and stabbed both guards in their chests; blood spraying everywhere. Morpheus abruptly came out of the trance, spitting out some of the blood that had ended up on their tongue.

That was not what they had intended to do -- they’d just wanted the guards to sleep (as they did with most of the people they connected to). Where had those scissors come from? Idly Morpheus reached up and ran a hand through their hair, trying to calm down. It was now bloody too.

No. No.

Shakily they stood up and pulled the scissors out of the corpses and raised them to their head. A few strokes of the scissors later the hair that hung closest to their shoulders was gone. Throwing the scissors away Morph began to sob quietly.

What on earth had they just done?

++

Sleepy from the sedative (it was the only way Blackwing had felt safe enough to come near them, apparently) Mo lay down on the bed and closed their eyes, searching for the glowing yellow pulse that was Dirk’s energy. It had been a long day, and they needed some reassurance and company.

Elsewhere Dirk sat up on his bed. He looked an absolute mess, wet hair sticking up all over the place, shirt stuck with globs of what appeared to be paint. Friedkin must’ve been hard on him again today (hopefully nothing as bad as what had almost been done to them had been done to Dirk.)

‘Mo? Is that you?’ Dirk asked.

‘Hello, Dirk.’ Morpheus said, gently. They walked over to him and sat down in front of him on the floor.

‘I’ve missed you!’ Dirk said, perking up a little. Then he paused and looked closer at Morpheus.

‘There’s something different about you. What did you do?’ Dirk asked.

‘It’s my hair. Dirk. I don’t really want to talk about it.’ Morpheus said quietly, fiddling with their hands. ‘Now, how are you doing?’

‘Not any better than you, I suspect. You know what this place is like. I’m glad to see that you appear to be holding up. We’ll be out of here in no time; just you wait!’

There was a knock on the door, and Dirk turned to look at the source of the noise. He then stood up off the bed and began to walk to the door.

‘Where are you going now?’ Morpheus asked, pivoting so they could watch him.

‘They just dropped dinner off. I’m going to pick it up. As long as it doesn’t taste or look like the blue-ish goop that is stuck to my shirt I think I’ll be fine.’ Dirk said, a small smile on his face.

Morpheus laughed, and then stood up from where they’d been seated. It had been good to see him, but if they didn’t get any actual sleep soon then they might not be able to recover from the amount of energy used when dream-walking. So, they stood up and walked over to Dirk before softly kissing Dirk’s forehead.

‘Goodnight, Dirk.’ Morph said.

‘Goodnight, Mo.’ Dirk replied.

Then Morpheus was gone in a flash of golden light, and he was (like most of the time) alone. Dirk could only hope that Todd and Farah would be here to break the pair of them out soon.

[darkhymns-fic]

How I Became the Sea

On a routine fishing trip, Lloyd meets a selkie girl named Colette - and from then on, she was like a secret he wanted to keep all to himself.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Dirk Rating: T Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Day 5: AU / Crossover! I wanted to pair a selkie story to match with this art by @frayed-symphony and also because I have been thinking too much about a selkie au with them.

--

Lloyd had once dreamed about being adrift at sea.

His body floated just above the waves, the sky a dark and angry red, rain pelting his face and hair. Every time he opened his mouth, sea water rushed through, trying to clog his throat, trying to drown him. He tasted salt on his tongue, felt the tinge of the lightning as it crashed across the clouds. He was lost, and there was nothing he could do.

But in the dream, he felt arms grab hold of him. They kept him in the water still, but he no longer sank. The arms were strong, secured him in their grip. He would be okay, if he just let the waves take him along and ride the storm out.

Dirk had told him that such a dream was an omen.

“Be careful you don’t sink now,” Dirk had warned his son before he set sail, out in the boat he had long promised to make by himself. “Many sailors would postpone their trip after having a vision such as yours.”

“Good thing I’m not like most sailors!” Lloyd had argued, waving away such concerns. “It was only a dream anyway.”

He was not old enough to have weathered the superstitions, to look up at the roiling sky at dawn and make sense of the portents in the water beneath. But maybe, that was just all part of his luck.

--

The sky had been clear when he set out. He checked the rigging on his small boat, packed away his fishing gear, and then set off. The boat wobbled when he stepped inside, but his hands held onto the edges as he easily seated himself.

He had done this numerous times, the waves lapping at his vessel, the sea so dark if he leaned over to look. Even if he fell overboard, he would simply swim. There was no danger here at all.

He was not usually the only sailor either. Off in the distance, a much larger sea vessel lumbered along the waves, puffing smoke out of its center, acrid and harsh to the lungs if he were to get any closer. Back on shore where the ports were, locals fixed the ropes, took to fishing there instead of bobbing all the while out on the water. No fishermen were too close too his spot, no one except the raucous seagulls, which occasionally tried to nip at his bait box when he opened it.

As he settled his boat on the water, he gathered the net to hang from the side, then went to retrieve his rods before he noticed something odd. He sighed upon realizing. “Did I really forget to put the fishing line on this morning?” He had slept in for a bit…

With that, he went and searched through his packs, hearing the splash of water to his right. The fish must have been lively today, and he was already missing it!

He kept searching through the tight corners of his little boat, but couldn’t find the fishing line anywhere! “I thought I…put it here…” Another search, but he only came upon the same boots, the same pack full of bait. “Where is it…?” Ugh, did I really leave it at home?

A soft voice floated to him, so light that a strong gust of wind could have blown it away. “Is it this?”

He turned. A hand was outstretched, holding the plastic cord gently in its palm, the line wrapped around it as clear as silk.

“Oh, thank you! I was looking for that.” He took the fishing line gratefully. Then stopped. Then thought a moment.

He was out in the middle of the ocean. So, another hand… was kind of weird, wasn’t it?

When he moved to look over the side, he didn’t do it quickly or with loud movements. A hand carefully placed itself over the rim, fingers pressed against the damp wood, the thin lines of a fishing net he had also brought along with him, ready to be cast out into the water.

Sunlight fell over waves, so bright that it blinded him. Salt on his tongue, eyes still peering through the light, he found her there – and felt familiarity.

It’s said that beauty cannot be trusted when it’s from the sea. A wondrous pattern can lure any curious sailor to fall overboard, or a song so piercing the heart can smash a ship to pieces against rocks hidden beneath. But the girl that peeked her face from the waves only blinked, her golden hair unfurling all around her, like the serrated drapes of a strange curtain.

Lloyd leaned forward, just a bit, as his tiny rowboat wobbled, the splashing water taking over sound.

He saw the shape of a fish tail far beneath her in the swirling dark, saw the trails of scales that dotted her shoulders, and the curved fins that poked out from the sides of her head.

There was a name for this, along with a story, and a lesson hidden away… if he could just remember it.

Silence, except for the creaking of the rowboat, moving with the shifting waves, stretched between them. He knew the girl could speak, but she didn’t do it now. She only placed her hands on the side of the boat, looking up at him with a curiosity Lloyd couldn’t help but share. The way she touched the boat looked as if she were about to knock, asking to be let in.

“Hi…” Lloyd finally spoke, still in awe of her. He started at the hair that looked as thin as twine, the sheen of the scales of her tail refracting the sunlight, even when submerged in the deep. Water bobbed up to her chin, and it seemed she was sinking lower and lower, away from him.

“Wait! Um…” Lloyd nearly reached out, stopped when he thought he saw her flinch. “What’s your name?”

The girl stared – the selkie – and the word only floated to his mind through the gruff voice of his father. Old stories told in the quiet evenings, through the crackling of the fireplace that would make him feel so warm that he’d fall asleep, curled up in great arms.

Her hands were near his own, hovering near scratches and dents that were on its side, from years of salt peeling away the paint, from scuffing too close to rocks or piers when Lloyd had first started sailing.

“I’m Lloyd,” he told her, just loud enough for her to hear through the lapping water.

A blink, eyes that matched the shade of the sea when the sun hit it at certain angles in the early morning, and then she spoke.

But she spoke while her mouth was half-submerged in water. “Bluppbb,” was all she said.

“..Huh?” Lloyd started, then smirked, small laughter bubbling from his lips.

The girl only seemed to realize just then what she had done. “Oh!” She rose further up, nearly knocking heads with Lloyd from the motion. “I’m sorry!”

“T-That’s okay!” Lloyd said, and he couldn’t seem to push away the grin on his face. “I just couldn’t catch that.”

The selkie was now half-over the rim of his boat, water trickling from her hair. She was mostly bare except for the scales around herself, like speckled turquoise that was patterned against the skin, falling like rain into the sea below.

But he noticed something else about her – she was smiling too.

“Sorry,” she apologized once more, her tail fin splashing in the water. “My name is Colette.”

--

It is in those old folktales that his father would tell about the sailors who found selkies, how compelled they were to keep them to themselves.

Lloyd wondered if that was what he was doing, sailing out to the ocean each day to fish, to the exact spot where Colette waited for him.

“Here, I got you something,” he told her one day. It had been routine to always give each other something nearly whenever they met. Once she had given him a polished pearl, its surface so white and luminous, and another time, she had given him a bunch of seaweed she said was good for having with food! With Colette, it was always a surprise.

“Is it another figurine?” she asked him, and he remembered her wide-eyed fascination as he gave her an old carving of a dolphin he had fashioned out of oak. But both the salt and pressure of the water had been too much for it, and she confessed how it had fallen apart in her hands when she swam back down below.

“Hopefully it’s better than that,” he said, and handed her a necklace, its chain colored red, the gem in the middle winking from the sun. “It’s waterproof, so you should be able to take it without it rusting!” And he had heard of jewelry weathering the depths of the ocean, so hopefully this could work as well?

In comparison to the jewel-like scales on her, maybe the necklace looked drab and plain. But still she took it with excitement, fingers already sliding across the chain. “Is this a human invention?”

“Er, I guess so,” Lloyd said with a shrug. “I just made it. You said you liked shiny things, so I tried to make it extra shiny too!”

And maybe that was true of all selkies? Lloyd wasn’t sure, but he was hesitant to ask his dad, or anyone about it. All that mattered was Colette’s happy grin, and how she looked at the gem in the middle that caught her reflection. She even flicked out her tongue to lick at it!

“It tastes funny!” she said, laughing as she did so. “I like it!”

“Well, it’s not meant for eating!” Lloyd corrected. “You just wear it around your neck.”

“Oh.” Colette looked at it again, bobbing up and down the water along with the rowboat. She managed to work the clasps of the chain open, and just when he thought she would put it on, she held the ends of it back to him. “Can you show me how?”

“You already got it halfway,” he said, but took the chains, her hands brushing against his, damp from the sea, yet still so warm.

He knew that people typically turned around to let someone else latch a necklace on them, but Colette wasn’t like most people, so she stayed facing him, watching as he leaned forward to put her new gift on.

He was close enough to catch each individual scale that lined her head fins, see the sharp curve of her teeth as she giggled at the sensation of his fingers over her neck. “It tickles!”

She was the most interesting person to him. “Almost got it,” he finally remembered to say. “And…there!”

Moving back and seeing her in full, he wished he had crafted something better. The gem he had used look dull compared to her, the shape of the pendant too plain against her existence. Yet even so, Colette looked happy.

“Thank you! I still have to give you your gift.” She then reached her hands underneath the water, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she searched… and then leaned back up, a multitude of little mussels cupped in her palms. “Some food for you!”

Of course, Lloyd happily accepted, as he still would be if she just gave him an old tire that had run down from the river and out into the sea. (Which did happen… He figured he could find some use for it).

It would be another trip where he barely caught much, of anything at all, though he could use the mussels Colette had given him as a substitute. Even so, he’d have to come up with a reason to his dad why his fishing trips had been so unsuccessful lately.

He just wanted to keep Colette to himself.

--

Two months after Lloyd had started seeing Colette, Dirk had once stopped him at the door, the hour so very early.

“The fish don’t bite so much during this season,” his father had told him, working on mending their wooden coffee table – one of the legs had snapped after Noishe had jumped on it. “Sure you should be going out at this time?”

The lie was ready at Lloyd’s tongue, and maybe on other days, he’d feel bad about it. Instead he grinned, winding the net around his fist. “Fall down seven times, get back up eight. I shouldn’t give up yet, right?”

“Hm,” Dirk muttered, but the lie wasn’t called out. And with that, Lloyd hurried out the door. He didn’t take note of the red skies.

He made the same preparations as always, tying up the rigging and securing the oars, bringing along his boxes of bait and fishing lines, and the net that he hooked to the end of his boat. Then he rowed out to sea, past other sailors that were in the distance, moving further and further away until he reached a sort of privacy out in the open water – to where Colette always waited for him.

Except she wasn’t there.

Sometimes she’d be late, apologizing and explaining how she had tripped over a shellfish on the way. Lloyd would ask how someone could trip while they were swimming… and then they’d forget what they were even talking about in the first place, her arms leaning against the boat, playing with his fishing lines as her fingers got tangled in it in intricate patterns, and him watching it all with a smile, once again barely catching any fish at all.

But he waited, and waited, and continued to wait. It was soon past noon. Colette never showed up.

The boat creaked underneath his weight. The net felt rough against his fingers as he still held it on the rim of the boat, its ends barely reaching the waters. Gazing out over the strangely calm waters today, he pulled back the net, moved the oars out of their handles, and headed somewhere new.

Maybe it was curiosity that made him go down a different direction to shore. He passed by other boats, those much bigger and with greater nets at their portside, at the sailors who gave him a quick glance before returning to their work. There was something pulling at him then, something in the skies, only now noting their color.

His father had warned him of omens, but never said that the omen would be for him.

It was like water, clogging his throat.

--

Colette had not been far.

It had been mid-afternoon when he set out, the sun still bright despite its lurid color. Now it was early evening, the waves crashing more frequently against his boat, pulling at his oars. The wind bit at his bare arms, trying to throw salt in his eyes. He felt coated in grime, felt as if he had been rolled into the ocean, left to marinate until the salt soaked him dry.

It was the shine of her hair that drew her to him.

He found her tangled in fishing nets on the shore, the sky still so red, even in the dark. Red-tinged clouds at night should not have made him so worried. But they did, making him hastily pull his boat to shore, unmindful of any rocks or gravel that could have torn the underside. He leapt from the side, rushing to her, his feet sinking in the sand with each step.

She didn’t have her scales anymore.

“Colette?” he called out. Only silence back, tinged by the red skies. “Colette!”

He caught a sharp glint in his sight; the necklace she still wore, the pendant laying squarely on her chest. And there, tangled around her legs, was a blanket of starlight. He stared at it, trying to make sense of its fabric and shape.

She stirred slightly, her mouth half-buried in the sand.

He had to get the net off her first.

As he got closer, Lloyd was reminded of the poor seals that would get tangled up in such nets, fisherman careless in how they cast it out, too low into the waters where such animals fed in. The lines would be so tough and the struggle so unbearable that it would cut through their skin, staining blood right onto the sand.

He could already see the bruises around her arms, her shoulders, and on her newfound legs that he was sure she didn’t use to have… But at some point, she must have passed out, stopping her struggles to sleep everything away. Lloyd took his small whittling knife that he carried out of sheer habit, and then carefully sliced open the net, one thread at a time.

When she was finally in his arms, she felt light. Still, that strange blanket was over her, but it looked so thin. Surely it wasn’t enough to shield her from the cold.

He felt her move, her hands reaching to grab at his shirt in her sleep. “..Nn…”

“It’s okay! I’m taking you home.” And Lloyd did not know that the words he just said were echoes of those from before, of those who wanted to keep what they found to themselves, clutching that same coat of starlight in their hands.

As he walked further inland, leaving his boat on the shore, the sky stayed red, long into the night.

--

Dirk had already gone to bed, but even if he was awake, Lloyd would make sure to keep quiet. So, with all the remembered stealth from his adolescence, he opened the back door of the house, which led to a storage room where fishing tools, old furniture, and other supplies were kept. Through that room, he snuck into another stairway that led upstairs, one that was closer to his room, where the floorboards didn’t creak as much.

The selkie girl was shivering in his arms, even as they finally went inside, away from the biting cold of the shore. The strange blanket she had was cradled against her stomach, half of it laying over Lloyd’s arm. It felt soft to the touch, yet still so thin. What was it…?

“Colette,” he called out again, bringing her to his room and stepping around a pot by his door, containing a healthy cast iron plant he had been growing for the past few years. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, she stirred, seemed to try to say something, before falling quiet again. Through the half-open balcony doors of his room, he saw the red tinge of the dark sky.

He had to get her warmed up, so he tucked Colette into his bed, careful to not irritate her scratched-up wounds on her arms. Even with his sheets, she still shook. So Lloyd acted on instinct and pulled out one of his spare jackets that hung on the bed, draped it around her shoulders like a second set of blankets.

The red of his jacket was brighter, like the red of the clouds that passed by his window. The light from outside shone on that strange fabric Colette had been carrying, dark like a piece of shadow that had been cut, still housing stars within.

He was curious, and as Colette slept more peacefully, Lloyd reached to grasp the star-studded fabric from her hand, which snuck out from the blanket. It really was so soft to the touch, and it had a texture to it that Lloyd couldn’t really place.

He felt like he should know what this was… But it wasn’t coming to him at all.

“It must be a blanket,” he thought aloud, fingers going over it, reflexively folding it up into a neat square to easily carry. Maybe he could just store it somewhere until Colette woke up? Yeah, that would work! And just as he stood up, carrying the fabric in both hands now, nearly almost hidden away in his grip, he heard a creak from his bed, a soft sigh and a familiar gasp of his name.

“Lloyd..?” There was something about hearing her call to him that made him want to smile, already turning to her ecstatically.

“Colette, you’re up!” He grinned, seeing the red shade of the sky paint against her hair as she slowly sat up. “Do you feel okay?”

She was staring at what he held, and then shrunk away against the headboard of his bed. “So…you’ve taken it…”

And it was only then that he realized, the knowledge of it slowly dawning like the slow crack of a weathered bark of a tree, as the tree would fall and fall almost too slowly, until it snapped halfway from its stump, its end crashing harshly against the ground.

Her coat felt so soft in his hands, his thumb and forefinger rubbing against it gently.

Colette smiled at him, but it was not with the abandoned glee that he was used to seeing whenever he rowed out to see her, the kind that showcased sharp teeth, and highlighted the bright scales of her fins. Only now did he notice that those fins, once on both sides of her head, were no longer there, and her mild attempt at a smile showed no sharpness.

“Someone tried to take my coat earlier today,” she said, the blanket sliding down her legs, legs that she moved with awkwardness, hands placed against her knees. “I was swimming by the rocks on the shore, playing with the seal puppies there… when a man on a boat that made a terrible noise came by. He used something to catch me, and it cut at my skin.” Her fingers gripped each other lightly, marks that he had missed painted on there too. “He knew where my coat was… where it ended… and how to grab it from me…”

Lloyd stood within the middle of the room, watching her silently, seeing the night sky catch the glint of the necklace he had made for her. “Did you think it was me?”

Colette raised her head in guilt, opened her mouth part-way, then closed it again. It was only then she seemed to notice the jacket that was hanging off her shoulders, and she reached out one hand to bring it closer. “No. He didn’t have your smell.” Her voice grew quieter, barely heard over the wind outside. “And his hands felt different.”

Lloyd once again looked to the shroud of starry darkness he held, and now saw it as the same shade as the scales that surrounded her tail, that highlighted the fins and made the light in her eyes sparkle. This held Colette in every seam, in the way it draped over his arms as warm as sunshine. It was so hard to not just hold it against his chest and find some place for it to keep, so that he could always go back to it when needed and –

Colette kept looking at his jacket that he put on her with little thought. Her fingers caught the long strips white tassels that trailed from the collar. “You have mine… but you gave me yours?”

Lloyd quickly walked up to the bed and, with a moment that let him linger too long on the coat against his fingertips, placed it on the bed, practically at Colette’s feet. “It’s yours! You should have it back.” I shouldn’t want it. And even though he would never take it from Colette, knowing what it was and its very importance, he winced at his feelings still, at the strange way he had considered it. Too many stories? Or remembering how Colette had smiled at him when he clasped the necklace on her? “I only wanted to bring you here so that you could rest first.”

She still tugged at his jacket, and so the next words fell out of his mouth without him even thinking on it. “You could keep that too, if you wanted!” Had it been too stupid to say? But he kept going, watching how her hair fell around the red leather fabric. “You seemed cold, so I put it on for you.”

Colette gazed at Lloyd wide-eyed, and with his words, she pulled the jacket around her torso, the loose sleeves falling at her sides to lay folded at the mattress. “I do like yours… Is that really okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine!” Once again he looked to the dark, folded up shape on the bed, but stopped himself from touching it. “I can make us some hot chocolate. You want any? And you can stay here until you’re ready to go home.”

She looked to say something else, but then paused. Her hands went from the jacket to the selkie coat that was folded with care. “Home… Um, yeah! I don’t know what chocolate is, but I would like some.”

Lloyd smiled, and the strange feeling from before seemed to wash away from his mind �� even if some of it lingered still, watching Colette unfurl the selkie coat like a piece of the night sky. “Heh, I think you’d like it.”

And with Colette still wearing his jacket, legs folded underneath her on the bed, she stayed with him for the night. He helped bandage up her scratches and other wounds, moving aside the jacket to get at the ones near her shoulders. He then taught her how to hold the mug carefully in both hands, but told her it was okay to drop it if she needed to, for the mugs were of polished wood and didn’t break as easily. He also showed her the way to put on his jacket, so that she sat across from him, decked out in the red of his coat. It was still unbuttoned down the front, her necklace plain for him to see.

The hour grew too late, that not even Lloyd could keep his eyes open. He yawned wide, enough to crack his jaw just a bit. “Sorry… You should sleep. I think I should too.” He got up from the chair he had placed next to the bed so they could chat easier. “I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

Colette said nothing at first, seemingly content in looking at him. The silence made him see her again, at the way her selkie features seemed to have vanished, looking just like the girls from town… except, no, her eyes were still different, still that deep blue.

“Where will you sleep?” she asked him, pulling him out of a strange daydream.

“I was just going to be downstairs… I won’t be gone.” He’d have to pull out the couch which was rather old and stiff, and wake up early enough to avoid his father’s suspicions, who already woke up early enough as it was.

“But this is where you usually sleep?” she asked him, tilting her head.

Lloyd scratched at his hair, still half-dusted from the sea breeze. “Yeah? But, it’s yours tonight.”

And then she took his hand, held it between her own, fingertips tracing along his knuckles and thumb. With the way she touched him, it was almost entrancing, like a spell.

Later he would wonder, and later he would brush that away. Already had he been drawn to her, when she splashed in the water, smiling sharp teeth.

“I still remember them grabbing me,” she whispered, sinking into his jacket, comforted in it. “I… would like to not be alone.”

Lloyd’s memories were hazy ever since, just remembering the feel of her hands as she drew him close, the brush of her hair just against his neck. He thought he remembered the rhythm of someone’s breath, something warm and comforting – and then the taste of salt on his lips. But it had been sweet, like taffy, and the arms around him like blankets that kept him safe.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, for when he woke up the next morning that was clear and blue, lying on his bed, Colette had left.

She had taken both his coat and her own.  

-

For the next few weeks, he no longer saw Colette, even as he passed by the same fishing spot they would once gather at each day.

But this time, he no longer worried for her, unlike before. Because sometimes she’d still leave him little gifts; once her own fashioned necklace of seaweed and pearls, floating at the top of the water’s surface. Another time, the curious splash of a baby seal that had pawed at a boat’s side, holding a seashell, carved with unfamiliar runes over its surface. And once, when he had been fishing, (and actually getting his catch), he found a lock of her golden hair on his hook, fashioned curiously like a bow, the shape of it enough to make him laugh.

Even though he missed her, he knew that most likely she would never come to meet face-to-face with him again. He had held her coat without her consent, had thought about keeping it stored somewhere out of reach. He was happy to, at the very least, receive her gifts.

“Suddenly you’ve become a much better fisherman,” Dirk commented as he looked over Lloyd’s catch one day, taking a mackerel to fillet and gut for their dinner. “Found a better spot this time?”

“Not really,” Lloyd said, determined to not lie anymore to him, even if his dad would never know about it. “The fish just come easier now.”

Lloyd started dreaming again of floating out to sea, the skies full of stormy red. He’d dream again of arms holding him close, keeping him safe in the water. He knew he was safe now, that he really had nothing to fear. So he’d open his mouth, and still be able to breathe, something sweet on his lips. He’d look towards the oceans depths and feel a hand hold his own tight, guiding him all the way.

If it was still an omen, he didn’t know what it meant. And should an omen make you feel this comforted anyway?

--

One day, Lloyd didn’t go on another fishing trip, but instead went out into town to restock on supplies; the tilled soil for the gardens, the kibble for Noishe, the paint for the much bigger ship he was going to build someday and sail out into the world. If he was going to be a sailor, he figured he should start acting like one!

So when he came back home, carrying the supplies from his truck to the garage at home, he didn’t expect to see familiar golden hair at his doorstep, talking to his father.

“He just went out to the city streets, but he shouldn’t be long,” Dirk’s voice traveled to him. Then he saw the shorter man turn to him, his thick beard lifting with a hidden smile. “Ah, there he is. Lloyd! You got company!”

Lloyd was unsure if, perhaps, he was still dreaming.

But he didn’t stay back, instead he walked, then ran to the house, only remembering to stop just before crashing right into her. Noishe was nearby as well, head leaning towards the girl’s hands to get a pet from her.

“Colette?” Lloyd said, too dumb to keep such precious words hidden, his father’s eyes still on him. But he was looking at her, standing on two legs again, dressed in a long skirt, though her feet were bare. Her blouse was loose, matching the afternoon sky, along with the satchel slung over her shoulder. And her hair fell down her shoulders and back like a golden cascade.

No scales, no fins, but it was her, the selkie girl right at his doorstep.

“Lloyd! It’s so good to see you,” she said to him, hands clasped before her. “I hope it’s okay to visit?”

Nothing could stop the stupid grin forming on Lloyd’s face, the light laugh that tumbled from his throat. “Yeah! I just didn’t think… I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

By this time, his father had decided to give them some privacy, heading back inside through the front door and taking Noishe with him. Lloyd wondered if Dirk knew anything about Colette, but everything about her passed for human, down to the clothes and the smile she showed.

Once they were alone, he had to ask her, remembering only one other time she had appeared this way to him. “Is everything okay? Do you still have your-”

At that, Colette held out a hand, stopping him gently from continuing. But her smile never faltered.

“There’s something I wanted to give you… That’s one reason why I came here. If you don’t mind?”

Lloyd shook his head, and then watched as Colette reached into her satchel, unlatching the front to pull something from within. Something dark and studded with jewels like stars, like scales deep underwater, catching the sunlight.

He already felt it against his palms as Colette handed the coat to him.

“I still have yours. I was wondering if you would like mine as well?” And she giggled as she asked, his necklace glinting against her blouse, the chain still never having rusted.  

[actualbird]

HELLO EVERYBODY!!! for the @dghdafeedbackfest​ i will be publishing a rec list every other day!! to kick things off, this first rec list is fics that are loooooooong and so so so worth the time to read. i would kill to have these fics in hardbound novel form. “long” for me is defined as anything above 50k, so let’s get this ball rolling!!

Cheer Up, Buttercup by @teacupsandcyanide​

“Oh, listen to Dirk. He’s a bathing goods psychic.” “I am not a psychic. I simply don’t always concern myself with such petty things as employee protocol and company script. I see the solution to each customer’s needs as being detectable in the pattern and web of the whole. The connections between bathing rituals and physical-mental health are often much more subtle and complex than we, with our rough and ready understanding of cocoa butter, might naturally suppose.”

-

Todd goes into a bath bomb store to get a present for Amanda and meets an overeager sales assistant. Self-examination, and - dare I say it - romance ensues.

Words: 103,775. ohhhh my god okay. okay i followed this fic from the first chapter and waiting for each and every chapter was the HIGHLIGHT OF MY WEEK!! this fic has everything you want in an AU!! dirk works at a bath bomb store, todd goes through the difficult process of learning how to forgive himself, effervescent flirting, EMOTIONS, SO MANY EMOTIONS, SLOWBURN, OH GOD, IF YOU WANT FUCKING SLOWBURN and just!! AAAAGGGHHHH!!! I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH, PLEASE PLEASE READ IT.

Strange Magic by @dont-offend-the-bees​

“Seriously?” he mutters, offering his arm.

“But of course,” says Dirk, looping the silk around it, just above the elbow. “It’s traditional, is it not? A favour for my faithful knight.” He ties the fabric off with a secure but sloppy bow, patting it down proudly. “There we go! For good luck.”

Then he takes a hold of both Theodore’s arms and pulls him firmly, decisively, into a kiss that takes his breath away.

“And that,” says Dirk afterwards, with the gentlest peck to Theodore’s nose. “Is to make sure you come back to me.”

*

With the freedom to indulge his every whim, the love (or at least toleration) of his subjects, and the affections of the loyal Sir Brotz, it seems the sun shines down upon the its prince’s fortunes. But that's about to change, an ill-wind blowing in the form of a tournament to decide his future husband. No more childish abandon, no more adventure. And perhaps most importantly, no more canoodling with his favourite elfin knight. Desperate times like this call for a quest; but will they find a solution, or just more questions they never thought to ask?

In which Dirk is a prince, Todd is his knight, and it may well be the two of them against the whole of Wendimoor.

Words: 118,478. this fic, in one word, is a masterpiece. never before have i been so engrossed in reading a work of fiction in such a long time, but this fic made me feel like i was 12 and reading about magic for the first time in my life. whimsical, heartfelt, and gorgeously written, i truly think this fic is just mcfucking amazing in all of the ways a fic possibly could be.  

I Will Roam if You Say Roam by Lavellington

"My old landlord wrote to me yesterday, and apparently I need to go and pick up my things or he'll throw them in a skip."

"A what?" Todd asks, sitting down heavily on the sofa.

*

Dirk and Todd go to London.

Words: 72,810. dare i say a fandom classic? this fic is DELIGHTFUL. in addition to being one of my favorite long reads (that i love to reread and reread over and over again....) this is one of my favorite casefics too because it is just so FUN to watch it unfold!!! def rec this to everybody.   

Universal Truths by inkyfishes

“...Very long story short, until yesterday, it hailed as my greatest case: one of deception, danger, double-crosses, and an all-round perversion of high emotion and - dare I say it - romance…”

What do horses, robots, time-travel, false identities, alternate universes, flagrant homosexuality and the University of Cambridge have in common? Probably not much, but it's all Todd Brotzman has to work with after he falls through a hole in space and time, arriving at St. Cedd’s College for the first day of Svlad Cjelli (not yet notoriously known as Dirk Gently). There's a case to be solved, but it refuses to start. For both Todd and Svlad, and Dirk and Farah, events unfold in exactly the way you'd expect at Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.

(This work is canon-compliant as per the end of Season 1. It refers to canon set out in the two Dirk Gently novels, the Dirk Gently 2010 TV Series, the Dirk Gently Comics "The Salmon of Doubt" and the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, but none of that is needed to understand the work.)

Words: 70,274. SPEAKING OF CASEFICS. THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CASEFICS TOO. this i think was the one of the first few fics i read in this fandom and i was blown away by how masterfully everything was constructed. this fic feels most like the dirk gently books and because of that i adored it. came for the case, stayed for the feels and the amazing writing.   

I'll make my way back home (to find me tangled up with you.) by electricteatime / @kieren-fucking-walker​

“Lanterns.” Dirk breathes, a giddy rush of hope welling up in his chest. “I knew they weren’t stars!”

***

Dirk Gently dreams of one thing, and one thing only; seeing the mysterious lights that rise in the sky once a year. The problem with that is that he’s never left his room before, much less his tower, and with every warning his father has given him he’s not sure he can bring himself to do it alone.

Which is exactly when Todd Brotzman crashes into his life. Or, rather, the business end of his frying pan.

What do a regretful criminal and a boy with magical glowing hair have in common? Not a lot, it turns out. But as they embark on a journey that promises to fulfill their dreams, somewhere along the way they’ll realise that all of the things they’d been looking for mean nothing compared to what they eventually find together.

Featuring a full cast of cameos, a glowing yellow jacket, and Farah Black weilding a sword, it’s a Tangled AU that nobody asked for (but I hope you enjoy reading anyway.)

Words: 61,677. THIS IS A TANGLED AU.....A BROTZLY TANGLED AU.....this fic came straight out of my dreams and DELIVERED. gorgeous worldbuilding, amazing characterization, and overall just an glorious fic that i had to reread immediately after i finished reading it the first time.

thats all for now, stay tuned for more rec lists in the upcoming days!! if you like a fic, please dont forget to show your support by giving a comment or perhaps reblogging the post of a fic. happy reading :D

[maih-em]

who am i tag

i was tagged by @fitzrove - thank you!!! :)

Name: Emma (a nice and generic one!)

Nicknames: Honestly don’t think I have one? My family occasionally call me Em but not a lot. I spent my whole childhood bitter that my name wasn’t very nickname friendly.

Zodiac: Gemini (but I’m kind of on the cusp of Cancer so it depends on what website you look at, I think. I always say Gemini though.)

Height: Literally bang on 5ft I’m so small

Languages: English. Also, I’ve done 7 years of Spanish in school so I’d like to think I’m semi-fluent (but my Spanish teacher would probably say different)

Nationality: British

Favourite season: SPRING. Like I love autumn for the aesthetic and summer because it’s holiday time, but spring is just so PRETTY. There’s something so lovely in realising suddenly that the air just feels different and that winter is giving way to spring. I love a good crisp spring afternoon when you don’t need a coat, but it isn’t too hot to wear one if you want to.

Favourite flower: I don’t really know a lot of flowers but orchids are so beautiful (but I find the concept of growing them very intimidating – my mum’s are constantly thriving and I don’t think I can ever live up to it)

Favourite scent: Just classic things like fresh cut grass, rain when it hasn’t rained for ages. I also love the smell of tomato stalks & also coffee (but this is a very Different vibe and depends on my mood)

Favourite fictional character: Well I have to say Morse (mainly Endeavour era but I’m slowly working my way through the original Inspector Morse series) & obviously Peter Jakes (my son). I haven’t finished watching the Witcher yet but Jaskier is such an icon! Other favourites include Dirk Gently (in the BBC America series) and Richard MacDuff (in the older BBC Dirk Gently series) 10th & 13th Doctors, Ollie from the Thick of It, and Fleabag!!

Coffee, hot tea, or hot chocolate: Tea 100%. I’m not a huge fan of hot chocolate – I find it too sickly even though I have the sweetest tooth known to man (I generally just eat the cream and marshmallows off the top and then immediately get fed up with it). Coffee I’ll have occasionally but nothing beats a good cup of tea. I have mine black and really weak (it’s basically just water to be honest) and sometimes I’ll but a little bit of sugar in it. And I love an Earl Grey if I’m feeling fancy!

Average sleep: When I don’t have to get up for college I’ll literally sleep until like 10 or 11 am, but that’s normally because I go to bed really late (recently I’ve struggled to go to bed before 1 because it feels like more effort to go to sleep than it is to stay up on my laptop). Generally I get a minimum of 7 hours.

Dogs or cats: cats all the way. I’ve not ever had pets and see very few animals in my day to day life, but dogs just intimidate me idk. I only like small breeds but even then, it’s a fine line. Cats, on the other hand, though I see a depressingly small number of cats and get to pet even fewer, are PERFECT IN EVERY WAY.

Number of blankets: 1

Dream trip: Probably going back to Iceland because I love it there, or to various mainland European cities like Amsterdam, Berlin etc.

Blog established: about April 2019 I think?? I’d just watched Icarus and was desperately looking for George Fancy content because I was crying too much to sleep. Only actively started using it around the summer because I had managed to lock myself out of the account because my browser fucked up so I couldn’t log in with an autosaved password and I have far too many emails/passwords/lost Tumblr accounts that finding it was almost hopeless. I swear every email I could think of ever having logged me into yet another discarded Tumblr that I’d made at some point between 2015 and 2017 and never used again.

Random fact: uhh I have no idea what to say for this I’m so boring. Literally all I can think of right now is that I see pain kind of as shapes? Idk how to explain that u can do with that information what you will.

Gender: female

Current time: 8:55pm

Favourite artists: Hozier, Ashnikko, Pulp, idkhow, sundara karma and probably millions more.

Stuck in my head: Say So by Doja Cat because it keeps coming up as an ad on Youtube and Instagram.

Last movie I saw: I watch films so rarely that I genuinely don’t know I’m having to try so hard to remember literally any films I’ve watched in the past year ugh. I think it was Maurice at some point between October and December but late 2019 has all merged into one for me so I have no clue what.

Last thing I Googled: what the dates were for being a Gemini or Cancer for one of the earlier questions.

Other blogs: none that I use- if I were to try and find every Tumblr that I’ve ever had we would literally be here all day.

Do I get asks: Not really, I did an ask challenge recently only to learn that you had to enable asks to receive them on Tumblr, so that gives an idea of how good I am with technology oops. I’d love to answer any u guys have though!

Reason for URL: This is just the name of my a03 account. Honest to god I was making my a03 account in like 2018. because I had a fic I wanted to post and I was like hmmm, I need a funky username oh god I’m so bad at usernames and this was literally the first collection of words that came into my head. They mean absolutely nothing.

Followers/following: 27 followers, I’m following 41

Lucky number: I wouldn’t say I have a lucky number, but my favourite number is 4

Currently wearing: PJs, which was a mistake because it’s making it very hard to motivate myself to get up and have a well-needed shower.

Dream job: Idk I’ve always liked the idea of being a teacher but other than that I have absolutely no idea.

Favourite foods: Oh god this is so hard to pick. Redcurrants, minestrone soup, feta, kale, wraps, I could go on infinitely.

Instruments: I’ve owned a guitar for years and yet can only play a very small range of chords quite badly. I’m a little better at ukulele mainly because it’s a better size for my tiny hands. I play a little bit of piano, but I don’t practice as much as I’d like because I don’t like doing it when other people are around idk.

Favourite song: it changes all the time but currently Sour Times by the Civil Wars (which I found on @bryndeavour ’s ‘falling in a chain reaction’ playlist which I’ve been listening to almost exclusively for an entire week.) Also probably Damn it all by The Staves, working bitch by ashnikko, coconut skins by damien rice, that’s all i can think of right now

I’m sure most people have been tagged already but if anyone who hasn’t would like a go, consider this me tagging you!

[gold-from-straw]

Backstage of the Universe - final chapter!

A chapter of just fluffy fluff!! Lots of cuddles, and Mona turns into a duckling ^_^ Thank you guys for supporting this, I hope you enjoyed it! Especially @flightinflame who should be basically listed as co-creator because she came up with so many of the plot points and cheered me on endlessly <3!!

Read from the beginning on Ao3 if you like ^_^

“Would you have let him do it?” Raven asked softly. “If it hadn’t, well…” she gestured at Charles, lying still between them. “Would you have felt differently?”

She and Erik sat across from each other, holding a vigil over Charles’ still form. Hank and Wakti had both checked him over and assured them that he was simply exhausted, but Erik couldn’t leave his side. He kept remembering Charles’ face as the power tore him apart, the way the strange patterns in his eyes had seemed to tear, rend themselves apart and colour his whole eye black.

He was quiet for a long time. Raven shifted in her seat, but held her tongue.

“No,” he said at last. “I wouldn’t.”

“He could have taken away so much bad from the world. People like--”

“Don’t,” Erik said sharply.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her head dropping. She leaned forward and took Charles’ hand, and he knew she’d leave it there if he didn’t say any more, respecting his privacy in this.

Erik cleared his throat. “It’s got to be free will,” he said. “I’m not naive, you know that. I don’t believe in the inherent goodness of people. But I also don’t…” He took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, frustrated. “It just doesn’t count if people don’t choose to do the right thing by themselves.”

“There’d be a lot less pain if people were forced to do the right thing, though,” she said wryly.

He snorted. “Yes, because they would all be Charles. Everyone in the world would be Charles Xavier. Does that seem right to you?”

She frowned down at her hands.

“This world is cruel and fucked up, because some people see no consequences for acting horribly. But it is our world. We have the freedom to choose. That’s what happens. If Charles were to take away our free will, it would be a different world, one occupied only by a single man’s mind, making puppets of us all. And I love Charles. I…” He swallowed and clenched his hands into fists. “I love him more than anything else. But he’s not God, and he shouldn’t have to be.”

Raven looked up at him, her amber eyes soft and shimmering in the low light. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I see what you mean.” She smiled suddenly. “Charles always did think he knew best, it was only a matter of time before he started playing God, really.”

Erik didn’t smile back, choosing to watch Charles’ face as he frowned in his sleep.

“So what now?” Raven asked. “I suppose we just go on as we always have.”

“The children won’t be getting any more impulses from the Universe. Not until they’re adults in any case, which I appreciate isn’t that long for Martin. I suppose Charles will want to restart the school. And the world will go on pretty much as it was, with people choosing good and evil as they always have.” He gave her a sharp grin. “Although certain people might find their hearts aren’t as strong as they were. The Universe said something about Charles holding their lives in his hand for long enough that it affected their bodies.”

Raven snorted and shook her head. “Only my brother would try to take over the world to make people be nice to each other.” She stood and stretched. “I’m going to turn in. I’ll leave you to watch him in his sleep like a creeper.”

“Goodnight, Raven,” Erik smirked.

“‘Night, Erik.”

As the door shut behind her, Erik shifted closer to Charles’ bed, linking their fingers together, bringing his hand up to his mouth to kiss. The shadows on the wall moved slowly, and Erik seemed to slip into a dream without closing his eyes, the world turning beneath him, and the balance in his soul leaning further towards serenity, towards acceptance, than Erik had ever felt.

It might have been hours before he felt Charles’ hand tense beneath his, before his body shifted and his face contort into a grimace. “Erik?” said Charles softly, pressing his hand to his eye socket.

“Charles,” said Erik, startling out of his meditative state and reaching out to caress Charles’ cheek. “Stay still, Hank said you’d have a terrible headache when you woke up.”

He reached over to the drawers to fetch the telepath-grade painkillers - now that Charles was properly conscious and feeling pain, it was leaking out around his shields, throbbing in Erik’s temples in a ghost of what Charles must have been feeling. Erik lifted him gently, supporting his shoulders while he drank down the pills with a glass of water.

Erik smiled at him as he slumped back onto the pillows, unable to contain the sheer relief and joy at seeing Charles awake again.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” Charles said, peering at him out of one eye, the other pinched shut. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Erik kissed him on his forehead, his temples, his dry, cracked lips. “I would rather be fighting at your side and afraid, than away from you and ignorant of your pain.”

Charles closed his eyes and turned away. “I don’t know how you can even stand to be near me,” he said, the tremor in his voice poorly hidden. “I tried to… I tried to take over everything. I did take over everything. I nearly killed… so many people.”

“Yes, it’s terrible, you’re stealing my world domination role,” Erik quipped.

Charles didn’t reply. Their bond was tightly shut, or would have been if the pain of Charles’ migraine wasn’t piercing holes all over his shields. Erik could feel Charles’ shame and self-loathing seeping out of the gaps. “Charles,” he said softly, taking his hand.

Charles turned back to him, wiping the tears that escaped. “I’m so sorry, Erik.”

“Do you know what I saw, when you took over the universe?” Erik said, kissing the back of his hand. “I saw such incredible power and conviction, and all you wanted was to bring goodness to people, to take away their pain. But that’s not your job.”

Charles had given up on stemming his tears. He pressed his face to the pillow, gripping hard to Erik’s hand as though afraid he’d be taken away.

“Anyway,” Erik said, combing his fingers through Charles’ hair. “You’re needed right here. We’re back to seven children again, and although they still have their powers, they won’t be receiving instructions from the Universe until they’re adults. We also have a comatose young man who is apparently dreaming an entire world into being, and that world would like him back - Wakti Wapnasi has an idea for bringing Francis into Wendimoor where he will… what was it again? Oh, where he will ‘reign for a thousand years of peace’.”

Charles tugged Erik close enough to kiss him properly, lips parting gently around each other in the quiet of the night. “And are those the only reasons I’m needed here?” he asked.

“Fishing, are we?” Erik grinned. He stroked Charles’ cheekbone with his thumb. He bit his lip and took a leap of faith. “I think, now, that we do want the same things,” he said. “And I still want you by my side. Always.”

Charles smiled and pulled him close. “Then you’d better stay with me.”

When Erik next woke, curled up next to Charles on the narrow bed, it was to Vogel and Mona rushing into the room. “Charles! Charles, you’re awake!”

“Shhh, I am, but Erik’s… oh. Never mind,” Charles sighed, and kissed Erik’s forehead as he stretched.

Erik sat up and slipped off the bed onto the chair so Charles could shift himself upright. Mona was sitting in Charles’ lap talking at high speed about how a hole had formed right in the fabric of space and time in their living room, and dumped Bart, Vogel and Martin on the carpet at Raven’s feet.

Erik turned to see Bart standing in the doorway, her head low, kicking at the doorjamb with the toe of her shoe. His heart twinged.

Go talk to her, Charles said in his mind.

Erik looked up. Charles had two small children snuggled up against him, Dirk was just starting to look like he might be about to climb onto the bed too, and Erik smiled fondly. Are you sure you’re OK with all of them?

I think I’ll be fine, Charles said wryly. Cuddled to within an inch of my life, poor me.

Erik chuckled as Mona beckoned Dirk up onto the bed and turned into a rabbit to make space. Vogel shrieked and picked the rabbit up. “Mona, you’re so soft! I wanna put you on my head, be my hat!”

“Oh, goodness, Vogel, don’t do that, if she falls she’ll be hurt,” Charles said.

Mona simply turned into a fluffy Davy Crockett hat.

“Yes, I suppose that’s fine,” Charles sighed, and put his arm around Dirk, who’d tucked himself close against Charles’ chest.

Erik shook his head and walked over to Bart, feeling almost as awkward as she looked. “Are you OK?” he asked at last.

Bart shrugged.

“Did he hurt you?”

Bart glanced up at him, then shook her head. “He smacked Martin, though,” she mumbled. “I told him not to, but…” She shrugged again.

Erik clenched and unclenched his fists then dropped to his knee. “Bart, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was scared, but that’s no excuse - I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“So… you don’t wanna send me away?” she asked in a very small voice.

“No, I don’t. I’m so sorry, Bart.”

She stared down at her feet, her riotous hair covering her face. “I don’t… I didn’t.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you wouldn’t… like it. I’m sorry. I’d’a tried to fight the Universe if I’d known.”

“Bart,” he said, his voice hoarse, and reached for her hand. It was so small in his own, her fingers delicate and fine-boned, but rough with violence. They froze on the precipice for a moment, then Bart launched herself into his arms, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and trembling with the strength of all her repressed emotions. Erik hugged her tightly to him, kissing her temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t understand, and I’m so sorry I didn’t try harder. I’ll do better… please give me another chance?”

“I’ll always give you another chance, Mr Erik,” Bart sniffled. “You’re the best.”

Erik closed his eyes and didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t crying.

***

Raven looked up from the book she was reading to Gripps as the rest of them trooped into the kitchen. She burst into laughter.

“What?” Erik frowned. He shifted to adjust Bart, who was really just a little bit too heavy and a big bit too tall to be carried on his hip, but exceptions just had to be made sometimes.

“You two,” Raven grinned. She nudged Hank, who was cooking and reading a journal at the same time. “Look at these two actual dads and their four baby ducklings.”

Erik blinked at her. He looked down at Charles, who had Dirk and Vogel on his lap, Mona draped over his neck as a scarf - she turned into a duckling and sat on Charles’ shoulder with a little peep noise. Charles looked back up at Erik, his mind shocked into blankness.

“Awesome! Can you be our dads? Please?” Vogel begged, jumping up and down on Charles’ leg. Duckling Mona peeped indignantly and slipped onto Charles’ lap, where Dirk caught her and petted her head gently.

Charles lips twitched, and that was it for Erik. He burst out laughing, barely able to hold Bart on his hip. She grinned and slipped down to stand as Erik leant on Charles’ old wheelchair, still slightly hysterical.

“Calm down, Daddy,” Mona said, turning into a child again and patting his back.

Erik picked her up and spun her around so she shrieked. “Oh, Daddy, is it? And what are you going to call Charles, then?”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!” Vogel yelped.

Charles rolled his eyes and grabbed him to hold him still, but Erik could see the blush forming across his cheeks as he glanced up at Erik. “I suppose you’re going to have to stick around for the long term, then.”

Erik bent down and kissed Charles softly. “That was the general idea.”

“What happened to ‘peace was never an option’?”

Erik smiled and brushed his thumb along Charles’ cheekbone. “You have a habit of changing my plans, Charles.”

Charles smiled and leaned his forehead against Erik’s, and through their bond he felt the warm, soft glow of love, spreading out across their family. Three teenage boys, two eight-year-olds, a five year old shapeshifter and a five year old chaos monger. A blue furry uncle, a blue scaly aunt, and two idiot men who’d taken over a decade to admit that their love for each other was strong enough to keep them together through anything that the universe could throw at them.

Tagging everyone who interacted with last chapter - thank you so much!! @fullmetalcarer, @akasanata, @bbareilles, @misti0usly, @galaxyrise489, @butterflywithwritersblock <3

[kamamo1]

Barry Allen

And you say the time goes rushing by // But it seems so slow to me // And I want to be there while you laugh or cry // But it takes too long // It seems so slow to me // Time keeps dragging on // And on... (The Ballad of Barry Allen by Jim's Big Ego)

But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life // And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time (Cleopatra by The Lumineers)

I am the one thing in life I can control (Wait for It by Hamilton)

When my time comes around // Lay me gently in the cold dark earth // No grave can hold my body down // I'll crawl home to her (Work Song by Hozier)

Think of me, think of me fondly // When we've said goodbye // Remember me, once in a while // Please promise me you'll try //When you find that once again you long // To take your heart back and be free // If you ever find a moment // Spare a thought for me (Think of Me by Andrew Lloyd Webber)

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine (Cherry Wine by Hozier)

The perfect halo // Of gold hair and lightning // Sets you off against // The planet's last dance… (The Lightning Strike: What If This Storm Ends? by SnowPatrol)

So let me come to you // Close as I wanted to be // Close enough for me // To feel your heart beating fast // And stay there as I whisper // How I loved your peaceful eyes on me // Did you ever know // That I had mine on you (Eyes on Me by Faye Wong)

If I could save time in a bottle // The first thing that I'd like to do // Is to save every day// 'Til eternity passes away // Just to spend them with you (Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce)

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes //Five hundred twenty-five thousand // Journeys to plan // Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes // How do you measure the life// Of a woman or a man? // In truths that she learned // Or in times that he cried // In bridges he burned// Or the way that she died ( Seasons of Love by RENT)

Ev'ry day you fight // Like you're // Running out of time // Like you're // Running out of time // Are you // Running out of time? (Non Stop by Hamilton)

I talk in circles // I talk in circles // I watch for signals // For a clue // How to feel different // How to feel new // Like science fiction // Bending truth (Mercury by Sleeping at Last)

Children, don't do // What I have done // I couldn't walk // And I tried to run // So I just got to tell you // Goodbye // Goodbye (Mother by John Lennon)

There's a ghost in my mouth and it talks in my sleep // Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks // Then it walks // then it walks // then it walks with my legs (Don't Lie to Me by Florence + the Machine)

I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back // The less I give the more I get back // Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise // I don't have a choice but I'd still choose you (Poison & Wine by The Civil Wars)

Sweet dreams are made of this // Who am I to disagree? // I travel the world // And the seven seas // Everybody's looking for something (Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics)

Struck by lightning, sounds pretty frightening // But you know the chances are so small (Odds Are by Barenaked Ladies)

She's got eyes of the bluest skies // As if they thought of rain // I hate to look into those eyes // And see an ounce of pain // Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place // Where as a child I'd hide // And pray for the thunder // And the rain // To quietly pass me by (Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses)

I want to tell you a story // The only way that I can // I'm just replacing a man that came before me // One day the world is going to see // Another man replacing me // That's just the way it's got to be (Dark Side of the Moon by Chris Staples)

All tied up, no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting // They say it's all been done but they haven't seen the best of me // So I got one more run and it's gonna be a sight to see (High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco)

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago // Idealism sits prison, chivalry fell on it's sword // Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know (From Eden by Hozier)

It's all gone and I won't be back // Don't believe me count my tracks // River's long and the river's wide // I'll meet you boys on the other side // So say my name and don't forget // Water still ain't got me yet //Nothing but I'm bound to roam // Waterbound and I can't get home (Waterbound by Dirk Powell)

Death doesn't discriminate // Between the sinners and the saints // It takes and it takes and it takes (Wait For It by Hamilton)

Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands // This is not one for the folks at home, I'm sorry to leave, mom, I had to go...// My heart is breaking for my sister and the con that she called "love" // But when I look into my nephew's eyes //Man you wouldn't believe, the most amazing things, that can come from // Some terrible nights (Some Nights by fun.)

And who cares about the thing I did that night? // So what, maybe they had it right // And who cares if I'm coming back alive? // So what, 'least I have the strength to fight (Too Much is Never Enough by Florence + the Machine)

[monigheandonn1743]

Ceart-leth

So this one comes with the following warnings NSFW, NSFCS, NAFB, NSFG, NSFM, NSFP, and SFRAWLIBOB have I got them all @tuethat? Lol

For @scwicks there are no warnings at all 😂😂

Previous Chapters

Chapter 15

Her eyes narrowed as she backed away from him, watching for any sudden movement, and trying to talk herself out of her next plan of attack. It was stupid and reckless, but he was just so much bigger and stronger than she was, that trying to fight him had been completely pointless. It had done nothing except leave her winded and breathless, and there was no way she could win if she kept it up.

So, it was time for drastic measures.

His lips twitched and she almost growled when he snapped off another piece of chocolate and popped it in his mouth. He’d eaten almost half the bar already and she was just seconds away from stabbing him with his own dirk.

“Ye really should try some, Sassenach.” He mumbled around the melting square of chocolaty goodness in his mouth. “Ye dinna ken what ye missing.”

“I know exactly what I’m missing.” She panted, referring to more than just the chocolate he’d stolen. “But you’ve had your fun, so put it back before I do something we might both regret.”

She’d been convinced, when he’d demanded his reward, that they’d find themselves rolling around on the floor again. But he swiftly side stepped her, grabbed the chocolate out of her bag, and hightailed it to the other side of the clearing. Her initial shock had outweighed her disappointment, but it was slowly creeping back in and she wanted to teach him a lesson.

And it was sure to backfire.

“I dinna think I will.”

“Fine, but you’ve only yourself to blame.”

Turning her back on him, she walked slowly back over to her bags, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she moved, and pulled out a pair of dark blue lacy boy shorts, a matching bra, and a bar of rose scented soap she’d found in her room a couple of days ago.

If he wanted to play dirty, then she’d show him dirty.

“If ye thinkin’ of sticking me with another needle, I’m gonna advise against it.” He warned, “Ye wee stick of chocolate’s getting’ smaller by the second.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she called back sweetly, as she bent and stepped into her knickers, shimmying them up under her skirts, as discreetly as she could. “If I was going to stab you with anything right now, you can believe it would be bigger than a syringe.”

Fortunately, the dress she had on today, served as her corset and laced up the front, so she didn’t need to ask for his help to get out of it. Turning back to face him, she held his slowly widening eyes and carefully removed the front panel of her dress, before dropping it on the floor at her feet.

“Claire…what are ye doin’?”

“Getting ready to wash.” She breathed, as she untied the bow and plucked lazily at the laces, undoing her dress. “Sassenach.” He warned narrowing his eyes. “Dinna do it.” His voice was tight and slightly higher then it should be, and she bit down on her lip, hiding her smile as she dropped the top of her dress to the floor.

“What? Why? I can hardly bathe in my dress.”

He took a step towards her, and she took one back in response, as she quickly untied her skirts, petticoats and bum roll at her waist. She heard his breath catch and she giggled as she released the material and shimmed it to the floor. They fell in a pool around her feet and she carefully stepped over them and turned her back on him.

“How’s Donas by the way? I’ve been meaning to ask you, but we keep getting distracted.”

“Donas?…I…Claire ye canna…”

“I canna what?”

She looked at him over her shoulders and winked as she slowly pulled her arms free of her shift. The fabric was soft, and it slid easily down her body until it reached her hips. Looking away from him again, she slid her thumbs between her waist and the shift, gently wiggled her hips, and bent slowly to remove it from her legs and feet.

“A Dia! I warnin’ ye, lass!”

She giggled again and, perfectly aware of his view of her arse, covered as it was in sexy blue lace, she stayed bent as she reached for her bra and slowly slipped it on.

She been filled with righteous indignation when she started her little strip tease, but with his protests her nerves and doubts were getting the better of her. Taking a deep breath she slowly rose and turned to face him.

He was stood just a few feet away, frozen in place, as he stared at her in wide eyed astonishment. Her heart was pounding so furiously that she wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. This would either be the best or the worst idea she’d ever had, and although she didn’t know which it would be, she was determined to see it though

“Care to wash my back?” She smirked, holding up the soap, amazed that her voice hadn’t wobbled.

He didn’t speak, but she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and she let her eyes run deliberately down his body, until they came to rest on the oh so obvious rise in his kilt. “Of course, if you’d rather have the chocolate…”

She raised an eyebrow and met his startled eyes for a moment before she turned her back on him and slowly walked towards the water.

“Stop!”

She froze where she was, heart pounding, hands shaking, and her knees barely holding her up. She listened to his soft footsteps, the quiet clink of metal, and the gentle swish of falling fabric, and knew without looking that he’d removed his kilt. But her breathe still caught in her throat as she felt the length of his naked body press along the length of hers.

His large, calloused hands came to rest on her hips and she shivered against him, as he drew her back and pressed his cock against the base of her spine.

“Ye playin’ with fire, mo gràdhag.” He breathed as he brushed his lips across her neck, and ran a hand slowly along her stomach and up to cup her breast. “Ye canna tease a man already so desperate for ye. Lord, ye skin’s like silk, and ye body…Jesus God…ye body’s a work of art. How am I supposed to resist ye?”

“You’re not.” She whispered, letting her head fall back onto his chest, as he gently kissed her neck, and massaged her breast through the lace of her bra. She was consumed by sensation, and it felt so fucking good, that she couldn’t hold back the small mewl that escaped her throat.

His cock twitched against her and she dropped a hand to his muscular thigh, holding him to her as she rolled her hips, encouraging him.

“I dinna ken what it is ye wearing, lass.” He groaned, fingering the side of her shorts. “But Christ, I hope ye’v got more.”

“I’ve got a few.” She laughed softly as she pulled out of his arms and took a step in to the cool water. The hand on her hip had been edging closer and closer to the place she wanted him the most. But if she was going to be touched by a man for the first time, it wasn’t going to be when she hadn’t washed in two days.

“Are you coming?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder, remembering too late that he was naked. “Fuck me!”

The words were out of her mouth before she realized, and she quickly slapped her hand over it as she stared at him wide eyed. She saw his shoulders shake, but she was too riveted on his midsection to notice whether or not his was actually laughing.

Jesus fucking Christ!

He was huge!

Not dangling around his knees, mistaken for a snake kind of huge. But long enough and thick enough, to make the virgin in her cross her legs and wonder where she could buy a chastity belt.

That’s gonna hurt!

“Aye, I plan on it.” He growled, snapping her out of her daze as he followed her into the water.

Wanna bet?

Her eyes shot up to meet his and she squeaked as he grabbed her and she suddenly found herself flung upside down over his shoulder.

Definitely backfired!

“Jamie! Put me down!” She giggled, planting her hands on his hips and attempting to push herself upright. “Your arm!” His hand came down in a sharp slap on her arse and, while it didn’t hurt exactly, the shock made her squeal, and she jerked against him, before desolving into laughter.

“Ye find that funny do ye?”

She snorted, unable to answer, and by the time he stopped in the middle of the stream, she was near hysterical with laughter. Tears streamed down her face, her stomach ached, and if he didn’t put her down soon she was going to pee on him.

But she didn’t have to worry, because before she tell him, he wrapped his hands around her waist and, without warning, threw her backwards into the water.

Her scream was silenced at the water engulfed her. It was so cold it stole her breath as she quickly sank to the bottom and pushed herself back to the surface, coughing and spluttering and glaring daggers at the idiot responsible.

“You absolute…arse!” She growled dragging her hand through the water and soaking him a shower of spray.

He snorted a laugh, and his smile was so big and bright that she couldn’t keep charade and she burst into laughter again before throwing herself at him.

“You’re a dead man walking, Jamie Fraser.” She giggled as he caught her, and lifted her up against him. She quickly wrapped her legs tight around his waist, taking her own weight, trying to ease some of the pressure off his arm. “It’s a good job I love you.”

“Aye, likewise, Sassenach.”

“I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“I’m no.” He smiled bruising her sodden hair off her face, “I wouldna have ye any other way.”

His kiss, that started off soft and gentle, quickly escalated, and before she knew it, her hands were locked in his hair, his hands were on her arse, and together they were grinding her aching centre against his stomach.

“Where’s the soap?” She panted, as she pulled back from him and looked frantically around the water. Lost in a haze of lust, Jamie blinked at her utterly confused and almost crippled with need. She was driving him to the outer edges of madness and, with her practically naked in his arms, he cared not a wit for the bastard soap.

“The soap?”

She’d teased him mercilessly, stripping down to her wee thingies, wiggling her plump arse in the air, and grinding it against his cock. Christ, even now her nippled were poking through the dark blue lace that just covered her breasts, and his mouth watered at the sight.

If she was his wife, she’d have suffered more than a slap on the arse, and he doubted she’d have been laughing quite so much then!

“Yes. I must have dropped it.” She huffed, unwinding her legs from around his waist. He hissed out a curse, near weeping in pain, as she slid her body down his, brushing against his aching cock. If she noticed, she made no acknowledgment of it, as she stumbled over the rocks, walking back towards the shore.

But as he watched her go he knew he’d suffer any amount of pain to have her by his side. He’d never known a lass like her, and he doubted he ever would again: save if they were blessed with daughters. Her previous life had moulded her into a woman unique for this time.

She had a humor that was easy and joyous. One that promised a marriage of fun and laughter. Something he’d never witnessed between a man and his wife. Her passion and desire burned as bright as his own, and the way she touched him and looked upon him with such reverence, had him longing to take her, to make her his.

But with the longing came dread. He didn’t want her to fear him. He didn’t want that look in her eyes to change, to become haunted and afraid, as it was bound too, when he plumbed her depths and took his pleasure.

She said she wanted him, craved him, but she was a virgin still. She didn’t yet know the horrors that the act could bring her. But he did, he’d seen it in the eyes of his wife, felt it in the stiffness of her body, and he’d loathed himself for it.

“Found it!” She cheered from the edge of the stream, snapping him out of his maudlin thoughts, as she waved the bar of soap in the air and splashed her way back towards him.

She was a vision in blue. The lace had tuned almost black in the water and it made her irony skin glow in the sun light. She was pure perfection. So wee and slender, with voluptuous curves at her hips, arse and breasts. Her long curly hair fell almost to her waist and the dark wet tresses framed her beautiful, delicate face.

Yer a lucky bastard Jamie Fraser.

“I dropped it at the shore line, thank God.” She smiled as she placed her free hand on his chest and came up on her tiptoes to press her smiling lips to his. “Now it’s ladies first, so turn around and don’t peak.”

“I dinna think so, Sassenach.” He smirked stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve seen me naked, an’ fairs fair.”

“Oh really?”

“Aye.” He smiled as she raised an eyebrow and bit down on her plump bottom lip.”

“Fine, if you insist.” She shrugged and handed him the bar of soap before twisting both arms behind her back. For a moment he wondered what she was doing, but then the lace that cover her breast fell loose and he quickly turned his back and covered his eyes with his hand.

“I was in jest!” He squeaked as her tinkering laughter echoed through the air, and he felt the slap of wet lace land over his shoulder.

“Maybe, but it got you to look away.”

“Ye’r a wee minx, Sassenach. I’ll have fun puttin’ ye in ye place.” He warned as she pressed her naked chest against his back and reached around him for the soap.

“I look forward to it.”

“Aye, I’v no doubt.”

She laughed again and backed away, but the damage had already been done. The cock-stand that had gradually eased with his morose thoughts, was back with full force, and he had to clench his teeth to resist the urge to take himself in hand.

It was sinful to waist his seed so, but with a life of abstinence and a wife that feared his touch, he’d been left with no choice other than to ease his own ache.

And lord how he ached!

He could hear her splashing around behind him as she washed, and the temptation to turn around, to look upon her full breast was almost unbearable. He longed to grab her to him, to worship them with his tongue and teeth, to plunge inside her and ease the madness.

He was a man possessed and she was the keeper of his soul.

The gentle touch of her fingers on his back sent a shiver down his spine and he groaned almost silently with pleasure. He could feel the slickness of the soap on her hands as she worked them over the tight skin, soothing it and kneading his aching muscles.

“Is this okay?” She whispered moving from his shoulders down to his waist and back up, over and over again. He’d never felt anything so relaxing, so arousing, and he nodded and let his head fall forward in surrender.

“Aye.”

“Does it still cause you pain?”

He shook his head, and took a deep breath. His scars were a physical symbol of the emotional pain he’d suffered, and he’d kept them both hidden from the world until her, until Claire. But like with his emotional pain, her touch on his back soothed the ache, made it bearable and naught to be ashamed of.

“No anymore.” He breathed honestly.

“Good.” He felt the pressure of her lips against his skin, and it was followed by the length of her body, as she brought the soap around to his chest and continued her tender care.

He looked down, watching her wee hands as they worked the soap into his skin, marvelling at the act and the thought behind it. The soft scent of roses wafted up and he smiled remembering Murtagh’s face as he went through each bar in the wee shop in Cransmere. He’d been searching for the one closest to the wee bottles he’d thrown in the ravine, and the one she used now was the one he’d finally chosen and left in her room.

She removed her hands from his chest and rolled the soap over and over in her hands, lathering them up, before dropping the bar into the water. Jamie grab it before it could float away, then almost dropped it again as she dipped her hands beneath the water and wrapped them around his cock.

“Claire…” he stuttered, reaching for her hands to stop her, as she slid them up his length, around the head, and back down again, gently taking the foreskin with her.

“Ssh.” She whispered, trailing kisses along his back, and increasing her movements under the water. “Don’t drop the soap, we still need it.”

His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head as her grip tightened around him. She pumped him hard yet gently, fast yet slow, twisting her hand each time she came back up to the tip. He’d already been close to the edge and he was in danger of falling over very, very quickly.

He’d never felt pleasure like it, and although he knew he should stop her, he lacked the strength and the will, consumed as he was by the desire she wove. His blood rushed through his veins, deafening him with each thunderous beat of his heart, and he feared his knees wouldn’t hold him much longer.

As the fire burned brighter in the pit of his stomach, threatening to consume him, he dropped the soap and tuned in her arms.

“I’ll buy ye more.” He growled as he grabbed her arse and pulled her body against his. He captured her lips in a deep, passionate embrace, plundering her mouth with his tongue as he wished to do her body.

She raised a hand to his hair as she melted against him, compliant in his arms, but she didn’t stop her maddening caress of his cock. She simply worked him harder, pumped him faster as he groaned into her mouth and bruised her hips with his hands.

“Claire.” He panted, fighting for breath as he dropped his head to her shoulder. His balls were tightening painfully, drawing the heat from the base of his spine, spreading it to his stomach and out through his skin. He was on fire and set to fall apart in her arms.

“Come for me, Jamie.” She whispered fanning the flames and sending him careening into the abyss. His hips jerked against her, and he cried her name as his seed spilled out of him in a wave of pure bliss. It coated her hand and stomach and in a moment of mad possession his teeth sank in to the soft skin of her neck. “Oh God.”

Her hand tightened in his hair and she pull him up and slammed her lips against his. The low moan in her throat, had him shuddering with the aftermath of his release, and he lifted her against him, and thrust his cock against her core.

“Yes, please, Jamie, touch me.” She begged as he lifted her higher and trailed his lips around the tip of her breast. He knew from their time in her room, that she could feel the same release that he had, but having no idea how, he reach for her hand and wrapped it around his.

“Show me.” He pleaded meeting her dark hooded eyes, “Show how to please ye.” She nodded and biting her lip, she dropped her head to his shoulder and guided his hand between them, under the thin layer of lace that separated them.

She was hot, slick and swollen. He’d never felt anything like it, and his cock twitched in envy of his hand.

“Ye as slippery as an eel.” He groaned as she slid his fingers to her opening and then back up to a small nub at the top of her sex. She jerked against him and her breath hitched in a way he remembered well. “There?”

“Yes.” She panted rolling her hips and leading his fingers in a slow circle. “There, gently and inside…oh God.”

She removed her hand, bringing it back up into his hair, and holding tight as he touched her gently, marveling at the feel of her, as his fingers circled the small bump. Her hips were moving in tandem with his hand and desperate to know, he moved it lower and carefully eased a finger inside her.

“Lord, God ye so tight.” He breathed, kissing along her neck, up to her ear, and around her jaw, searching for her lips. Just the thought of feeling her tight, wet, sex around his cock had a fresh wave of heat rippling beneath his skin.

Jesus God he wanted her.

“Please, Jamie. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She begged, surrendering her mouth to him, as she ground down against the heel of his hand.

His tongue touched hers and they danced together, mimicking the movement of his finger deep inside her body. It was heaven and hell, touching her like this. It was more than he’d ever hopped for, yet nowhere near enough. His spent cock was already stirring to life against her arse, and he tried desperately to remember if they would pass a kirk on the way to Lallybroch.

He wasn’t sure how long he could wait to make his his wife.

Her inner muscles fluttered around his finger and he almost pulled it free, worried that he’d hurt her. But her movements increased, and she tightened her legs around him, and clasped his finger so tightly within her that he couldn’t remove it if he tired.

“Fuck, Jamie, yes!” She cried, breaking the kiss and arching her body back in his arms. He was completely spellbound, rendered speechless by the sheer beauty of her, as she lost herself to her pleasure and fell apart in his arms.

“Ah, Claire.” He whispered, drawing her back to him, holding her up as she fell limp, and her muscles spasmed around his finger. “Ye, slay me, lass.”

She laughed weakly as she nuzzled her face in his neck and tried to catch her breath. Slipping his finger from within her, he brought both arms around her and held her close. Thanking the lord for the privileged of having her there.

“I love, ye, Sassenach. More than my own life.” He breathed resting his cheek against her hair.

“I love you, too. To the moon and back, Jamie Fraser.”

He laughed lightly and tightening his hold, he dipped them down into the water and finally rinsed away the soap.

Chapter 16

[dirk-gently-theories]

What exactly happened to Wendimoor and The Boy? aka. I think I just solved the case!

Let’s begin with how the people are connected to each other. Starting with Wakti Wapnasi.

Yes, Wakti. She’s one of the most important characters here. 

So: Wakti is a product of Moloch’s mind so basically she’s a splitted version of Moloch’s consciousness. She knows about the prophecy and the boy, she also kind of knows who The Boy is but not where he currently is since he disappeared from Wendimoor. She just knows where he was the last time that she was able to reach out to him in his dreams which was in Bergsberg, in the Cardenas house to be exact.

Wakti knows Mona and told her about the prophecy and the boy and Dirk Gently. Mona knows who Dirk is. She contacts him and sends him straight away to where Moloch was the last time: Bergsberg.

Then all the Wendimoor stuff happens and in the end Dirk finds the mural with the two boys on it, one of them sleeping. That’s how Dirk found Moloch. He knows who The Boy is and the most important thing: He knows where he is.

Here’s what I think happened: The story of Moloch and Wendimoor

The Cardenas found Moloch on the boat that appeared in the middle of the field. Of course they couldn’t just leave the helpless baby there so they took it with them. Soon, they learned about his powers and also how to deal with them. I think that the things that Moloch creates kind of manifest when he wakes up. That’s why Marina Cardenas was so careful not to wake him up when the purple people eater appeared and told him, to dream it into something nice. Later, Arnold was born. 

They grew up together like siblings (who also fight with each other). Maybe both of the boys or just Arnold created Wendimoor. But just as the drawing on the wall. They used it to deal with what was happening in their lives, just like we do. I think everyone reading this has kind of a fantasy world in their head that they can escape into when life gets shitty again. Just like these boys. The Trosts and Dengdamors could’ve represented their parents. Notice that Silas only has a mother and Panto only a father. And they’re cowboy-ish and knight-ish because that’s what was on TV, as we can see in the scene where Dirk is in the house within the house. Also, the Trosts are farmers. One of the Cardenas wanted to keep the farm, the other one wanted to sell it. And then we have the Kellum Knights, representing the people who wanted to buy the farm, the evil ones looking at it from the perspective of a child. Last but not least Wakti Wapnasi, the forest witch who protects everyone. The real life Wakti was a doll that either belonged to Moloch or Arnold. Who hasn’t had a doll or teddy bear or whatever as a child that protected them at night? But then Hector Cardenas found it and covered it with wallpapers as punishment. He didn’t want it to become real. Just imagine what would’ve happened if Wendimoor had manifested itself outside of the Cardenas house, in the real world?

Moloch started to have nightmares. And it got worse. Arnold had to watch his parents nearly getting killed by a purple people eater and eventually it became real, that’s why it’s still in the very existent house within the house.

“I did what I had to do” and “It wasn’t human”. He’s the reason that Moloch fell into the coma that he’s still in. Maybe he attacked him with the air gun, could be the reason on why he was so horrified to see it. 

Now the Cardenas had to take care of a coma child with superpowers and the hospital bills or meds, idk, were probably really expensive. Blackwing showed up, promised to take care of Moloch. The Cardenas got into a fight and killed each other or what I think, Priest (or someone else) eventually showed up. Or Marina killed Hector who sold the farm to the Kellums or the government. She drove away in shock mode. The kids witnessed it and Moloch dreamed up the purple people eater again who then killed Marina. That’s also how the car got up in the tree. And maybe Moloch also dreamed Hector into the tree? No matter who or what killed them, the result is the same. Hector and Marina were dead, the two boys didn’t have parents anymore. 

Arnold ran away and got himself a new identity, never came back. Blackwing got a hold of Moloch and they bought (or just took) the Cardenas house. Marina and Hector are dead, it’s the government, who would say something against it? And that’s why the house is property of the government and was on lockdown. 

I think the person holding Moloch is Riggins. He started Project Blackwing but my first thought was actually because of the cap.

Notice the zzzzz’s above Moloch’s head that lead directly to the Blackwing symbols? 

Dirk said that Riggins often took him to see Moloch. And remember when Friedkin wanted Dirk to touch Moloch’s forehead and magic him awake? I think that that’s what Riggins hoped would happen. So he took every single not dangerous Blackwing project (that’s why not all the symbols are on the mural) to see Moloch. They talked to him and he got to know them, added it to the drawing in Wendimoor, his story. Dirk made him his assistent, told him all these stories about him being (or becoming) a detective and soon, Dirk became his hero.

But then the big escape happened. Everyone could flee, except for coma Moloch who was left alone. He told everyone in Wendimoor (his escape fantasy world) that Dirk Gently would come and save them. He probably couldn’t psychologically age anymore because he was in the coma. Anyway.

Dirk became a legend in Wendimoor. Blackwing closed. They moved Moloch and he had the stroke that Friedkin mentioned. Moloch lost complete consciousness and Wendimoor was left to itself. The boy, their ruler; gone. Everything fell slowly apart, drowning in chaos.

"Farson told me they had been waiting for Dirk for years!" - Amanda. I think the years probably refers to the time after the big escape where Moloch hoped his friend would come back and then the image of Dirk manifested itself in the minds of all the Wendimoorians as soon as The Boy was gone.

Like Amanda, Wakti (aka. a part of Moloch’s consciousness?) is connected to the thing, the fabric of reality, just like Mona and Amanda can reach out through the water to the others which is why she’s the one to unite them all. I think it was Max who said that Blackwing thought that the powers are as simple as just “Shapeshifting”, “Finds stuff” and “Turns invisible”, but it’s not. They’re all connected to the thing which means also connected to each other. That’s how Wakti managed to reach out to both, Amanda and Mona. They’re all connected to the same water-ish realm.

Wakti can see and reach out through the water. Mona can travel through it or shape into it? Still unsure about that. And in the first season, we saw Amanda having her first vision where she had full space Mandelbrot make-up and was laying, you guess it, in water where she heared Wakti’s voice.

And here we are again. 

Wakti contacting Mona who knows Dirk who knows the boy.

Boom. 

[corvid-knight]

A Quick Lesson In Saying Goodbye

Dave has a dream about someone long dead. 

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824328) 

I only know that I’m done dreaming when I feel a hand on my shoulder, shaking me too gently to be Karkat. Even  before I’m all the way awake, I can feel wetness on my face…fuck. Crying in my sleep again, not that it’s a surprise. My mind’s still half-in the dream, too—until I force myself to open my eyes, all I can see is Bro’s last grin, amused but still so fucking heartbreaking.

The sense of disconnect gets worse for a second when I do open my eyes, because the face frowning down at me is only a little different from the one in my head, and the hand on my shoulder is wearing those shitty fingerless gloves. It’s not him, though. Well…maybe a little. Biologically yes, but no in every way that matters.

"You all right?“ Dirk asks.

It’s weird. My voice sticks in my throat. I nod anyway, sitting up on the couch and swiping one sleeve across my face to get rid of the tears. Too bad my eyes haven’t gotten the message to stop dripping yet… "Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” I halfway don’t want to look at him—falling asleep halfway through a party is stupid and having him wake me up after the thing’s over because I’m crying is fucking lame—but on another level I need to stare at him, satisfy myself that he’s not dead. Not Bro and not dead. I end up rubbing my eyes like a little kid, trying to stare at him without being all that obvious. “I’m okay.”

He’s not wearing his shades; normally that’d help to get the weird déjà vu to dissipate, but not this time. Right now all it means is that I can tell when he’s looking at me, and he does for a couple seconds before sitting down on the couch next to me, leaning over to pick up my shades off the floor. “Nightmares.” He doesn’t make it a question, more of an open-ended statement. For once, though, I do want to talk.

"Not really.“ I take the shades, setting them on my lap and rubbing the last of the wetness out of my eyes. "A dream, yeah, maybe a bad one. But…just sad. Not shit to be afraid of.”

"Even the sad ones suck, though…and I’m guessing it’s worse for you.“ Dirk frowns, blinks, and adds, "The Time stuff, I mean. I know you probably went through more bad shit than any of us.”

"Maybe. Sometimes.“ I dream about the doomed timelines a lot; it scares the shit out of Karkat when it happens. Those nightmares are horrible. "This wasn’t about that, though. It wasn’t a dreambubble either.”

"You still get those?“

"Not that often anymore, but yeah.” I never know how to feel about the bubbles. They hurt, sometimes, but talking to ghosts isn’t something I really want to stop doing. “I just…this wasn’t memories, wasn’t dreambubbles, wasn’t even meaningless random shit. I don’t know.” I put my shades on. Apparently I might not be done crying, because they fog up more or less immediately; I take them off and start polishing them with my shirt. “You ever get dreams that you know shouldn’t mean anything, but you think they do anyway?”

Dirk considers for a minute, then shrugs. “I dream about the game a lot,” he says, “about all the ways I could’ve fucked up, or being back on Earth and never meeting another human, being the only one left in an empty session with no door out, taking a metaphysical wrong turn somewhere and ending up as one of the versions of me that're even worse than who I am. Or just meaningless random shit, like you said.” "Different versions of you. Bro?“

"That’s one of the scary ones, yeah.”

"That’s who I was dreaming about.“ My shades are clean; I really don’t need to keep wiping at them but I do need a reason not to look at him. It’s blatantly obvious avoidance tactics, but I do need an excuse to not look at him as I talk. "Bro.” My eyes itch.

Dirk’s looking at me. I don’t have to look at him to know it; I can feel it. “You okay?” Does he know how much his voice reminds me of Bro sometimes? I hope not.

"I’m okay.“

"You want to talk?”

Fuck yes, please. “If you’re okay with listening, yeah.”

I look up at him as he nods. I can’t stop fidgeting with my shades as I start talking. The whole dream’s so fucking clear in my memory, easy to drag out—there are things that actually happened that I don’t remember half this well.

**********

The roof. I’d spent a lot of time here, once. Not that it used to look like this—the rest of the city gone dark, chunks of the skyline missing where something made impact with the ground, smashing buildings like toys. It was barely recognisable, actually.

And the sky…that, I recognised, but it was still wrong. No stars, but brighter than if there was. The sky, the actual fabric of reality, was cracked open in spiderweb fractures from horizon to horizon, spectrums of color coruscating where the void wasn’t.

I have no clue how long I just sat there with my legs hanging off the edge, watching the colors change and thinking about the fact that this was our fault. Well, maybe that wasn’t what I meant…but we, me and people I knew, were the reason that the sky was broken. We’d set into motion events that changed the structure of reality. Destroyed it a bit, maybe.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that, so as much as I could, I didn’t think. About anything. If time was passing, I couldn’t sense it, and for awhile nothing changed but the sky.

"Hey, lil’ man.“

He almost made me jump. Almost. Instead, I just turned my head. "Didn’t you die?” Had he been there the whole time, lying back with his hands behind his head and watching the sky? “You look like shit.”

Bro rolled his eyes at me—fuck, when was the last time I’d seen him without his shades?—and grinned, pushing himself up onto his elbows.“Wrong on the first count, but I ain’t gonna argue on the second.” Any other time, the amount of blood on him would have made me dizzy, but right now? Just made me achingly sad. Maybe confused as to how he was functioning at all—there was a wet stain in the center of his chest, and although I didn’t want to look all that closely, I was pretty sure his throat had been cut, from the amount of blood there. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll be right on both counts in a little while.”

"You’re dying.“ Fuck. Again.

Bro nodded, still smiling. "Yep. But hey, you’re not. Means I did my job right, huh?”

"Fuck no you didn’t.“ I said it and knew I shouldn’t be saying it, but him thinking he did any part of raising me right—other than not actually killing me or getting me killed—sent a spike of half-blinding anger into my head. "What part are you saying you did right? Beating the shit out of me? Taking off for months, letting me fend for myself? Fuckin’ Cal, are you calling that shit right? It wasn’t, none of it was, and you fuckin’ know it.”

He let me finish without stopping me, without even losing his faint smile, and even waited a couple seconds to be sure I was done. “You’re alive, though. Stay that way, kid.” And her reached across with one hand, trying to ruffle my hair.

The fact that I could dodge him that easily drove home the point that yeah, he was dying. Most of my anger evaporated—what was the point? “Fuck you, Bro.” And because I wouldn’t get another chance, and I was still pissed: “You know I hated you, right?”

"Really.“ I’d expected some kind of reaction from him—anger, maybe, or scorn. Something other than him just looking up at the sky for another moment before sitting all the way up and turning to me. "You know I cared about you, right?”

There was absolutely nothing about him that suggested he was lying. He believed that shit, and I shook my head. “Like fuck you did.”

"No, really. Everything I did was to give you a better chance, keep you alive in this damn thing. You’re a good kid, y'know? Would’ve sucked if I spent that much time on you and you went and got yourself creamed in your fuckin’ game.“

"Fuck you.” I’d said that once already, but he didn’t seem to be getting the message. Might as well repeat it. “You did what you did ‘cause it was easier to kick my ass and fuck my head up than to teach me shit like a fuckin’ normal person. You were a bastard then and you’re an asshole now, and you don’t get to turn it around and call it what was best for me.” I was getting angry again, somehow without losing any of the sadness. God, but this was pointless—it couldn’t change anything that’d happened, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be changing. “You—fuck. Fuck you.”

If he’d gotten angry, I would’ve been okay. Scared, but okay. Instead he just shrugged, staring at me as if he’d never bothered to take a good look before. Come to think of it, maybe he hadn’t. “You said you hated me,” he said quietly.

"Damn straight.“

"Nah, you said 'hated.’ Past tense. You hate me right now, lil’ man?”

"I—" I could’ve lied, easy. Except I really couldn’t. “No.” He was my Bro, and the awful thing was that he’d been a good brother sometimes. Maybe not often, maybe not for a long time, but hey. I didn’t forget the good shit. And he was dying, and as stupid as it was, my eyes were getting blurry. “F-fuck you, alright?”

He tilted his head, and I don’t think I’d ever seen that expression on his face before. “Aw, hell, kid.” This time when he reached for me he moved slower than before. I was still too fucking tired to dodge, even though I could see blood on his hand and I didn’t exactly want that touching me. “You’re cryin’, lil’ man.”

His fingers felt damp against my face, but when he took his hand away and I went to wipe at where he’d touched, my fingers came away clean. “Stupid.”

"Nah.“ Pity. Maybe that was what that look was. Or regret. Either way, something I’d never gotten out of him. "That ain’t stupid, just human. Least someone’s gonna remember me.” He sighed, slumping a little and looking down at the mess of what used to be Houston. “For what it’s worth, I think I did my best. I loved you, kid. Love you now. If I wasn’t on my way out—”

"Just shut up.“ It came out a hell of a lot harsher than I’d meant it to. He was telling the truth. That was the horrible thing. He did think he hadn’t done anything wrong, and I knew he was wrong. And in the end, it didn’t matter. "I don’t hate you. Not all the time. It’s not worth it.” I’d already said most of the pointless things I could to him, but I still had at least one more. “Fuck, Bro, why’d you get yourself killed like this?”

My voice cracked halfway through the sentence. I think that the moment I knew it was a dream was when Bro stared at me, shrugged, and reached over to wrap his arms around me. He’d never done that, he would never do that, and for a second I was fully aware that none of this was even a little real, and I could’ve broken out of it. Instead, I just hugged him. Forgot about the reality or lack thereof of all this, forgot about the blood, forgot about all the stupid pointless shit for some length of time that I didn’t bother trying to keep track of.

However long it was, it wasn’t long enough before he winced and let me go, pushing me back gently. God, I almost wished he wasn’t being gentle. That’d make shit easier. “You gonna be alright, lil’ man?”

Good fucking question. “Yeah.” I was shaking my head even as I said it, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. “I—fuck, I miss you. I’m pissed at you, I hate you, and I fuckin’ hate you. And it just—it gets worse, 'cause I hate myself for caring about you 'n I feel like shit for hating you when you’re gone because of me, it’s so—so fucking stupid—”

"Shh.“ He shook his head, glancing out at the ruined city, folding one arm across his chest and grimacing before looking back at me. "I know. I know, kid, it sucks.” He reached over with his free hand, lacing his fingers through mine and giving them a quick squeeze before letting go. “If it was my choice, I’d make you forget me. Everything about me—good shit, bad shit, the whole shebang. You’re a good kid…wish I didn’t have to leave you.” One more look out at the skyline, his hand coming up to rub at the cut around his neck. “My time’s just about up…the guardian’s almost here. Can you give me a hand up, kid?”

"Yeah.“ I got to my feet, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him up. If I’d been able to get ahold of both of his hands it would’ve been a piece of cake, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t take his other arm away from where it was pressed against his chest. In the end, I pulled his arm across my shoulders, dragging him to his feet and letting him lean against me. "What’s the guardian, Bro?”

For a second he didn’t answer, breathing heavy and leaning on me for support. He might not have been hurting before, but now he sure as hell was now. “The one that’s coming to get me…it’ll be whatever I deserve.” He’d been looking out at the skyline, eyes half-focused; now he glanced at me again, smiling a little. “Probably an animal, that’s what I think…what d'you think it’ll be?”

I didn’t think about it. “Eagle.” Didn’t know why I picked it, either, but Bro laughed, a genuinely amused grin spreading across his face. "Never been that brave, kid.“ He pulled out of my grip, and even though I didn’t want to let go, I didn’t have a choice. "Never been that innocent, either.” This time when he reached out to ruffle my hair, I didn’t dodge it. “I’m sorry.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again. There’s no fucking answer to that, you know? Not, “it’s okay,” because it isn’t, not “you should be,” even though that’s the truth. Nothing. Maybe the fact that my eyes were so blurry I could barely see him was some kind of answer in itself, I don’t know, but when he took his hand away I had to close my eyes, blink away some of the tears, and wipe at my face for a second.

When I opened my eyes again, he wasn’t looking at me anymore, and the cracks in the sky weren’t the brightest thing there.

The guardian wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before, but when I looked at it I still felt like it was familiar—an animal, not quite a wolf and not quite a lion but a little like both, faceless and covered in pure white fur that could have been soft or could have been made out of a thousand million tiny needles, standing calmly on the air just past the edge of the roof with its long tail switching back and forth. Next to it, Bro looked like a kid. An amazed, terrified, hurt kid. Reminded me of myself, from some time before now, and fuck but that hurt.

"Bro…“ My voice cracked and almost quit, but I forced one more sentence out. "I don’t want you to go.”

I got a glance back from him, and a shrug, and a grin that spoke of some painful (but still amusing) cosmic joke that I was missing out on. “Sorry, Dave…”

And he took two steps forward, staggering before he stepped off the edge and catching himself on the guardian, wrapping his arms around its neck and burying his face in its fur. I blinked, and the bloodstains on his clothes and skin faded away. Blinked again, and I was the only thing alive in that place.

**********

"After that,“ I say, not looking at anything except my hands in my lap—definitely not at Dirk— "I think I just cried until you woke me up.” I’m just thankful he let me talk through the whole thing. He hasn’t asked questions, hasn’t done anything other than listen and, when I started crying again, reached over to put a hand on my shoulder. “Which…fuck, I didn’t cry this much when he really died, it’s so fucking stupid..."

I want to be able to not be crying. That isn’t happening.

"I don’t think it’s stupid,“ Dirk says quietly. "Shit takes time to sink in, you start to forget the aspects of him that were worth hating…you can’t always say goodbye at the right time. There isn’t a wrong way to feel about his being gone, you know?”

"Wish it didn’t hurt.“ When I put my shades on they don’t fog up, thank god, and I can finally look up at Dirk. "Wish he was—fuck, I don’t know…my mind wants him to have been like you are, worth having as a brother, worth mourning and missing and whatever, but he’s not.”

Dirk blinks. Several times. “I don’t know what went wrong that he wasn’t,” he says. “I’m glad you think I’m better than he was. I’m sorry he wasn’t better.”

"Not your fault.“ I sigh, and lean against him. "He sucked, but you…you make up for it…thanks, man.”

He’s smiling. Just a little. “No problem, Dave.”

[mdwatchestv]

Dirk Gently 2x05: The Boring Book of Mundane Deduction

Hi friends, I will be real, it was hard to summon the strength to start this episode summary. Last week I expressed the hope that this season would continue to tighten its focus, spending more time on character and relationships versus continuing to expand an already cluttered world. Now faced with having to summarize the seemingly million myriad peoples and things we were introduced to last Saturday, I feel......very tired. People like television for all different reasons, and all of those reasons are valid. For me, Dirk Gently’s draw was its charming characters, unexpected relationships, and the fully-functioning sci-fi plot was the cherry on top. Season two seems to be trying to up the ante in the whacky sci-fi arena, but at the cost of the intricate character relationships that set season one apart. Season one was filled with little mysteries and questions: who is the girl in the room? (Farrah!) What's up with the corgi? (Soul of Lydia Spring!) And most importantly, who killed Patrick Spring? (A kitten!) These little puzzles were fun to uncover and equally satisfying in their solution.

This season, rather than being centered around a unifying question (such as: Who killed Patrick Spring?), rather centers around a directive (Find the boy!). And while there are surely questions to be answered (who's the boy? what's going on with this house? Wtf is a Wendimoor?) they feel less elegant, and their solutions will not be as neat. There was a moment in this episode, somewhere between the rainbow oompla loompas and the EDM festival, that I realized I was feeling a feeling I had never felt watching this show before-- and that was bored. Dirk himself has had painfully little screen time, and the scene between him and Todd (that came more than halfway through the hour) felt like a breath of fresh air. Everything may be connected, but I would rather spend time seeing those connections be between characters.

For all the new things we were introduced to in this episode, there wasn't really a lot of forward momentum in the plot. We start out with a good old prophecy: boat in a field, married couple, gun that shoots air, hidden house aka all things we are familiar with. The prophecy also covers some new ground: A plant will die (a tree?), a child will go bad (Scott? The boy?) dream could become a nightmare (Wendimoor?). The Witch making this prophecy also has Freidkin's squeezy toy which has also been featured prominently in the series this far.

In Wendimoor Amanda meets a witch woman and her band of benevolent forest creatures. They have a name, but I am too bereft by the cancellation of Difficult People to look it up. Amanda recognizes the Forest Witch's voice from her visions (which, I have zero memory of), and the Forest Witch takes her through some weird ‘I think therefore I am’ self-actualizing before showing her a pool of random goo. The cube-headed Knights of the Mage arrive and Amanda reaches through the goo to summon the rest of the Rowdy 3 to Wendimoor. Convenient. This seems like it knocks out my theory that the Witch pulling the strings in Wendimoor (and beyond) was actually escaped Blackwing teleporter Mona, although I'm still hopeful she will come back in a meaningful way.

Dirk, Todd and Tina go to a dinner for a holistic breakfast, where who should they discover, but a man claiming to be the missing Cardenas boy: Arnold Cardenas, now an old man (and also Tony Amendola). Arnold reveals the power surge that ruined much of the town was his fault, caused by an attempt to stop the "gifts' coming from the land of Wendimoor (including the Purple People Eater, and the sonic gun). He also admits to drawing the massive Wendimoor mural that depicts the narrative of the world. Pink-Hair = good, Mage = bad, train = in the sky. It's still unclear WHAT exactly Wendimoor is, whether it's an alternate dimension tapped into by Arnold, or a world created entirely by his subconscious. When Dirk confronts Arnold about the traumatic imagery seen in the House Within A House (scissors, blood, nightmares etc), Arnold has a heart attack and is carted away. It seems as if Dirk has succeeded in finding "the boy", although, as it turns out, “boy” isn't entirely an apt descriptor.

At the episode's climax everyone finds themselves at the Sound of Nothing musical festival. Dirk, Farrah, Todd, and Tina are there in an attempt to find Scott (Suzie's son) who Suzie named as a potential witness. Suzie herself is also there, at the behest of the Mage, attempting to assassinate Dirk (how does she know what he looks like?). Everyone is dressed super bitchin. I have noted before that characters seem to be making weird personality left turns, for example Suzie's seeming reluctance to kill Dirk (although she murdered five people and a dog without a second thought) and Sherlock's sudden confusion over the interconnectivity of the Cardenas house (he was the only one who really GOT IT) to name a few specific moments. Anyway Suzie winds up casting a spell that essentially gets everyone high, which led to a charming exchange between our heroes. Dirk, Todd, and Farrah  confessing their inner monologues to each other was the only genuinely fun moment this episode, and highlighted the lack of scenes between these characters this season. Additionally while the scenes between Panto and Bert were sweet, they didn't really do anything to move the story forward, or give us any new information. I love the character of Bert, but I once again can't help feeling she is being kept around as fan service versus contributing meaningfully to the storytelling.

Finally a minor mystery is resolved as the episode ends with Sherlock coming upon the Mage and zombie-husband in the Cardenas barn. The Mage has another shipment of automatic weapons he is obviously smuggling into Wendimoor via the wet circle on the barn wall. Again the elements of wetness and transportation suggest Mona's involvement, and I am anticipating she will re-enter the story in a big way sooner or later. Things look grim for Sherlock, but Tyler Labine has been so enjoyable this season that I can only hope it's not curtains for his character.

CORGI WATCH:

Didn't even have time to touch this storyline :/

XO MD

[coloursflyaway]

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Pairing: Dirk Gently/ Todd Brotzman

Rating: T

Words: 2.557

It's late and Todd finds Dirk sitting on the stairs in front of the Ridgely; there's singing and confessions, and maybe, a kiss.

For everyone who doesn't know the video of Samuel singing, try this link: X

He finds Dirk outside. It’s a cool night and yet the other isn’t wearing a jacket, just a tattered, grey hoodie wrapped around slim shoulders, the light of the streetlights making his hair gleam copper and mahogany. He’s not shaking, and yet Todd would think it fitting.

There is no reason Todd is here, unless Dirk is rubbing off on him and he gets hunches now too, which make him wake up in the middle of a Sunday night, the remnants of a dream clinging to his lashes as he blinks himself conscious, disappearing with every passing moment. By now, after he has spent long minutes rapping knuckles on Dirk’s door, finally given up and then found the other sitting on the steps leading to the Ridgely, Todd cannot remember much of it, just the phantom of a touch, something that feels like another body’s heat.

Perhaps, he muses as he slowly walks down closer, there were stars in his dream too, far away and yet so bright, because they feel more familiar to him now as he looks up at the clear night sky than they did the night before.

Dirk doesn’t turn around, although Todd knows that he’s not being quiet, doesn’t even budge when Todd falls down next to him, a sudden lack of strength making anything more graceful impossible. He looks pale in this light, lips a fainter pink than Todd is used to, his cheekbones painting shadows across the canvass of his skin while his eyes sparkle like Todd imagines the Indian ocean to look when the sun has long since set; it’s not the Dirk he is used to, not the sunny, bright version with a smile pulling his mouth wide, colourful clothes telling the world everything about him even before he has said a word. It’s the Dirk he has met at the back of an almost-stolen truck, the forest around them whispering and telling secrets, a man who isn’t lost anymore but still hasn’t quite found his way. Forlorn and melancholic, enchanting in a completely different way; Todd wants to reach out and find out how his fingers would feel against his own, if they’d be cool or warm, calloused or soft.

The desire is hardly new, so Todd herds it back and swallows it down, pretends to forget about it, although he knows it isn’t going anywhere at all.

“Aren’t you cold?”, he asks, just to give his lips something to do, something to say he can dictate still, but Dirk doesn’t turn and doesn’t reply, just blinks, long, golden eyelashes momentarily brushing over porcelain skin. “I have this melody stuck in my head”, he says instead, something Todd didn’t ask to know and yet prefers to an answer to his question. “It won’t leave. I’ve never heard it before, at least I don’t think so, and yet it’s there. Not clear, never clear, like I have my head under water and someone is playing piano in the next room. Like it’s drifting to me from another universe. It won’t let me sleep.”

His voice is soft, and yet sounds like a tune of its own, his accent crisp and clear as always, making Todd wonder how this continent and its people sound to Dirk’s ears. “Could that happen? The drifting, I mean”, he asks, because that’s what is expected from a best friend, an assistant; a conversation and not tracing the contours of Dirk’s lips with his eyes, getting lost in the timbre of his voice. Faintly, Todd wonders when this happened, because he can’t remember; what he remembers is being annoyed, then amused, then endeared, then in love; states of being, never transitions.   But they have had more than a year together, which feels like more than a life sometimes, and for Todd, have started a new calculation of times: before Dirk, and after.

“I don’t know”, the other answers, and Todd wants to know what he is looking at and why it’s more interesting than looking back at him. “Possibly. Probably. I’ve never been good with keeping track of universes, there are just too many of them.” To this, at least, Todd can relate, because he seems to have lost his ability to keep track of anything at all these past months.

“What melody is it?”, he asks, watches Dirk’s fingers twitch against his knees, drawing patterns across maroon fabric. “If it’s something from this universe, I might know it.” The thought seems to surprise Dirk, because his brow furrows, his plush lips turn downwards for just a second. “I didn’t consider that”, he admits after it has passed, something that happens seldom; Todd spends a long moment wanting to kiss him. “I thought it was just mine. But I suppose you’re right, perhaps you do.”

He should be used to it, and yet Todd startles when Dirk turns around, blue eyes resting on him with the intensity they always seem to hold, only that it is muted somehow, thoughtful and serious instead of bright and enthusiastic. With the street lights only illuminating one side of Dirk’s face, the other looks almost ethereal, moonlight making the tips of his eyelashes gleam silver.

And then he hums a note, low and sweet, and maybe Dirk hasn’t the best voice Todd has ever heard, but it’s warm and melancholic right now, grows stronger and more confident as he continues, adding note after note, letting them weave into a tune. At first an unfamiliar one, but then Todd remembers the taste of burnt caramel, the scent of lavender and the clanking of fine china, there is a house conjured up in his mind, and he only realises that he is smiling when Dirk stops, looking at him confused.  

“Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep”, Todd sings softly, picks up where Dirk left off and only finds the words a second too late; it’s been so long. “When love came and told me, I shouldn't sleep, bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I…” Years must have passed since he last heard the tune, played from an old record, Doris Day’s voice competing with the crackling of the speakers. Back when he was a teenager, it had been their neighbour’s favourite song, who’d play it at least a dozen times a day. Mrs. Kaufmann, an old lady, had made them overly sweet caramels, which always had tasted vaguely burnt, and told them about her late husband over tea, who had swept her off her feet in his army uniform in a Viennese bar back when she was a girl, asking for their very first dance. She had followed him to the US, but never quite lost the foreign lilt to her voice.

“It’s an old song”, Todd finally says, because Dirk still looks at him with puzzled wonder shining from his eyes. “When I was a kid, our neighbour would play it. There’s a hundred versions by now, I think, maybe you heard one of them around somewhere.” It’s the far more logical explanation and yet that doesn’t make it the right one, Todd knows that by now. Dirk seems to consider it at least, but then shakes his head, soft strands of hair falling into his eyes. “It’s different”, is the only explanation he offers, but for Todd, it’s enough. “Can you sing it again?”

He’s looking at him, almost like he did when they first met, Todd angry and Dirk taking his hand, watching him and trying to figure him out. An assistant, he had proclaimed back then; now, he stays silent, and Todd takes a deep breath, and starts again.

“Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep, when love came and told me, I shouldn't sleep-” The words come easier now, like his lips are remembering which way to move, and Dirk is watching him, and still doesn’t seem to have solved his puzzle. “Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, am I…  I lost my heart, but what of it, he is cold I agree… he might laugh, but I love it, although the laugh's on me- “

And it’s true, Todd realises as he holds the note for a second too long, startled, even if Dirk isn’t cold, even if he wouldn’t laugh; the rest rings true, painfully so. He quirks a smile, because it’s a thing he can do, even while he continues. “I'll sing to him, bring spring to him, and long, for the day when I'll cling to him… bewitched, bothered and bewildered, am I-“

There is more, and Todd is almost certain he knows at least half the lyrics, but it seems enough for now, so he lets his voice fade, looks at Dirk and sees him like he always does, finds that realisation don’t change a thing. “And, ring a bell?”, he asks, and Dirk smiles, although there is an edge to the turn of his lips that Todd is not familiar with, something like exhaustion darkening his eyes. “Yes. And no. It’s complicated”, Dirk answers and doesn’t make any sense at all; he seems to notice it too, because his brow furrows, his fingers twitch again. “I don’t think I have ever heard it before, still, but a bell is ringing, because I – because the universe is hardly subtle and sometimes, well.” He pauses, seeming to think that he has given an answer when Todd is more confused than before. It must show on his face, because Dirk notices, tilts his head, and it must be the golden glow of the streetlight that paints a faint blush on his cheeks.

“It’s a taunt, you see”, Dirk tries to explain and fails, looking down at his fingers pulling at the fabric of his pants. “Sending me the song, and sending you here and letting you sing… I have mentioned it before, I think, the universe and I are far away from being friends.” He says it like it should make sense, and maybe it does to some part of Todd, some small, inconsequential bunch of neurons which cause his heart to clench and then expand abruptly, a peculiar feeling. “I have no idea what you are talking about”, he tells Dirk, his voice sounding hoarse for no reason, his heart deciding to pick up its pace when Dirk looks up at him again through gold- and silver-tipped eyelashes. This, at least, Todd understands.

“You, of course”, Dirk says, causes Todd’s heart to somersault, to stop. It’s the strangest sensation, because something is happening, Todd knows it, feels his heart beating faster than it has any right to, his throat seizing up, his palms starting to sweat, and yet his brain refuses to register what it is. He blinks once, twice, takes in the soft, bittersweet curve of Dirk’s lips, the warmth of his eyes, then asks, “What?”

It catches Dirk off guard, quite obviously so, because he tilts his head, as if he is unsure if Todd is messing with him or really doesn’t understand, face for a second entirely unreadable. “You”, he repeats, then mercifully adds, “It’s about you, of course. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, am I…  I lost my heart, but what of it, he is cold I agree… who else could it be about? Unless, of course, you just pretend to not know because it makes it easier for you, in that case, it’s about an entirely unspecified person I’ve fallen madly in love with.” Dirk says it like it’s a fact, a statement as interesting and newsworthy as talk about the weather, like Todd should have known all along, even before he came down here and saw Dirk sitting on the steps. Like the words do not pull the floor from underneath Todd’s feet, make him feel like he’s falling and floating at the same time, like gravity suddenly doesn’t quite apply to him anymore.

“Madly in love?”, he repeats, and now that his brain is catching up with the rest of his body, the blush on Dirk’s cheeks suddenly looks darker, his lips softer, his eyes not dim with exhaustion, but resignation. “Infatuated, if you’d prefer.” “I don’t think I do.”

The words have slipped past his lips before Todd has realised it, change something in Dirk’s expression, although he doesn’t know if for better, or for worse. He looks as confused as Todd still feels, but his eyes seem a little bit brighter. “What?” He could kiss Dirk, Todd realises, he could close the distance between them and kiss the uncertainty right off the other’s lips, but he doesn’t, hardly moves at all. “I wouldn’t prefer it. I quite like madly in love. Has a nice ring to it. Sounds more like something I would say.”

Todd tries a smile, and there is realisation slowly brightening Dirk’s expression, a sun rising after a long, cold night, and Todd can’t resist, reaches out and takes Dirk’s long-fingered hand, finds that it is cool, but no callouses catch against his own skin. Dirk’s fingers curl, squeezing softly, and his eyes are full of beatific awe; he blinks twice and Todd wonders if it’s the other trying to make sure this is not a dream.

“Would it… be something you could imagine yourself saying?”, Dirk asks slowly, like every word has to be pronounced carefully, his gaze flickering down to their joined hands for a split second. “I think I’ll stick to head over heels, or something of the sort, but generally, yes. Definitely.” It feels strange to say it out-loud, even if such a roundabout way; a secret, the last one, he has carried for months now finally out in the open, his heart laid bare for Dirk to crush or keep. “That’s… good. Yes. Very good.”

Dirk sounds tentative, almost shy, which is strange and yet endearing; Todd grips his hand a little bit tighter. There are no words he can think of saying, but the fingers he has pressed against the back of Dirk’s hand are tingling, and although this much contact is something he would have considered bliss just an hour ago, he can’t help but want more still. And Dirk is right there, looking at him with wide, trusting eyes, and Todd has never been strong enough.

The kiss is gentle, because it couldn’t be anything else, Dirk’s lips soft against his, parting to let out a surprised gasp, his fingers fluttering against Todd’s as he licks the last hints of hesitation right out of Dirk’s mouth, tasting a hint of peppermint and citrus.

There is nothing of the former paleness left on Dirk’s face when he pulls back, but the other man’s eyes are still closed, like he isn’t quite ready to face the world yet, and Todd can’t help himself, steals another kiss, longer this time, even if still careful, loving, tender.

“The music stops”, Dirk suddenly breathes out, but cups Todd’s cheek with his free hand so he won’t pull away. “When we kiss.” “Is that good?”, Todd asks, half the syllables lost in between brushing lips and Dirk’s tongue darting out to taste. “I don’t know, but we could go inside and find out”, Dirk answers, and even like this, voice almost lost in between their mouths, he sounds happy, playful. His fingernails scrape across Todd’s scalp and make him shiver, melt a little bit against the other as he kisses his yes onto Dirk’s lips.

[pursuecrazylife]

I got tagged, yay :D

Tagged by @holistickitten, thank you sweetie

Rules: Answer the questions, and tag 20 blogs you want to know better

Nicknames: My name is Anna, so nobody really gives me nicknames. Expect my dad who calls me Olivia sometimes because I loved olives when I was a kid ;)

Star Sign: Capricorn

Height: 1,72 m

Time right now: 7:48 pm

Last thing you googled: Goodreads quotes about writing

Fave Music Artist: Oh, that’s a hard one. Let’s make it artists. Years and Years, Chvrches, Rhodes, Tom Odell, Walking on Cars, Birdy, Bastille, The Black Keys, Kodaline, Sleeping at Last, Olafur Arnalds and a lot more. I’m always listening to music.

Song stuck in my head:  Kaleo- Way Down We Go. It is the perfect song for DGHDA, and if anyone could create a fanvid set to Dirk Gently and gang with this song I would be very grateful.

Last Movie I watched: Trespass Against Us 2016 with Michael Fassbender

Last TV show I watched: Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. If you haven’t watched it already, what is wrong with you?! Go better your life and watch!

What I’m wearing right now: My jean- jeggings (yes it’s a thing) and a baggy jumper with a chicken on it (don’t judge I got that jumper as a hand-me-down. And it’s very comfy). My yellowish chucks, yes I bought them because I wanted the same chucks that the 10th Doctor wore. I have red ones as well ;)

When did I create this blog: 2015

The kind of stuff I post: My TV Shows obsessions: The Walking Dead, Sherlock, some SPN, DGHDA, Halt and Catch Fire, BBC Class. And my favorite podcasts: The Black Tapes, Tanis, The Wooden Overcoats, King Falls AM. And shameless fanfiction advertisement

Do I do asks regularly: YES! I love to talk to people. Bombard me with asks, or message me.

Why did I choose my URL: Okay, this is kinda embarrassing. Everyone surely has this great story how they came up with their URL, but I can not remember why I gave my blog this name. And I’m not even a very optimistic person, so my URL isn’t even fitting, but now I’m going to stick with it because of name recognition.

Gender: Female

Hogwarts House: I don’t know. I haven’t watched that much HP to know. Sorry.

Pokemon Teams: Again I don’t know. Sorry.

Favorite Color: I know this :) Red

Average Hours of sleep: I try to get 8 hours of sleep, but normally I lay awake for a few hours before my mind finally decides to let me sleep, so 5 hours.

Lucky number: 7

Favorite Character: Where to start? Dirk Gently (DGHDA), Aaron (TWD), Castiel (SPN), Moriarty (Sherlock), Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks), Charlie (BBC Class), 12th Doctor (DW), Joe MacMillan (Halt and Catch Fire), Tom Mathias (Hinterland), Richard Strand (The Black Tapes), Nic Silver (Tanis), Jesse (Preacher), Travis (Fear the Walking Dead), Morse (Endeavour), Sidney (Grantchester), Lou Solverson  (Fargo), Joe Chandler (Whitechapel)

Dream Job: I would love to work in Marketing and Advertisement

Number of blankets I sleep with: Way too much, my family has started to make fun of me because I’m always freezing in bed. I think 4, and I always wear a jumper over my regular pj’s

Followers: 172, I’m very proud about this. Love you all....and hi to the porn blogs, I guess

I tag: @unfortunateshape, @yurikabluedemon, @sopharra, @wolffairy506, @ijustcantfigureout, @amanda-is-psychic, @hilups, @mycrazy-fandom-brain, @virgin-snitch, @queeniegoldsteinns , @meer-katnip

[darkhymns-fic]

On a Night of Snow and Wine

On New Year's Eve, Lloyd and Colette stop at Flanoir, having no time to visit anywhere else and just quietly usher in the year that would come… Until wine is involved.

When it comes to alcohol, Lloyd was a lightweight. And sometimes, feelings can just slip out.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Technically my last fic for 2020! Thanks for sticking with me this year.

--

The last time Lloyd had been tipsy was when he had been 12 years old, unsupervised, and much too full of confidence for his own good. His father’s ale cabinet had been thoroughly locked up, hidden away in a storage room full of spices and herbs. Sometimes he'd see Dirk get a small mug, bringing with it full of something frothy and dirt-colored. 

So of course, he had been instantly curious.

Lloyd had already been practicing his lockpicking, and it was only a matter of hours before he finally got to the contents. He didn't exactly understand why it said ‘spirits’ on the bottle in Dwarven script, but he wanted to try it anyway. After all, he was supposed to learn all the Dwarven things from his dad, so why not this?

Dirk came home from log-cutting to find his son passed out on the wooden floors, the one bottle he had taken barely half-drunk. The Dwarven Vows he had to learn that night had been particularly ancient, with their meanings convoluted and making his head hurt. He of course forget them the very next day. Re-learning them wasn't any easier.

So, it just seemed only a bit similar, when the inn sent him and Colette some wine to their room for the night, a complimentary gift in celebration of the new year. Flanoir was once again blanketed in snow, the lampposts softly lighting up the steeple of the cathedral nearby, making the white seem so much brighter than before. 

"Oh, for us?" Lloyd asked, as Colette handed over the bottle to him that the innkeeper had personally given. "It looks so fancy! And...we're actually not paying for it?" Lloyd would never say no to some free stuff!

The wine bottle had a name printed on it that Lloyd only vaguely recognized. (Did it say 'Altamira' on it?) The liquid in it was a deep red, one that caught the light of the magi-technology lamps nearby. The iron heater that stood in the corner of their room gave off enough warmth to stave off the cold, even if it made him somewhat sleepy.

"They were so nice to give it to us!" Colette occasionally blew into her hands, barely seen mist appearing in the air as she did so. Next to her, their cloaks lay on the backs of chairs, placed as close to the heater as possible. Her cheeks were a flushed red, the cold getting to her - but her smile was so wide, he didn't think he'd seen her this happy recently. 

"Yeah. I guess we have some cups around here…" Lloyd was hesitant though, worried the last time he had drank anything. This was alcohol, wasn't it? Maybe I shouldn't…

"Oh, that's okay, Lloyd. I know I shouldn't drink."

The sureness in her voice was surprising. Too sure. The kind of sureness that Lloyd knew she was covering something else up. "Huh? Why shouldn't you? We're old enough now! Or uh, close enough!" They missed the mark by a few years, but at 18, he felt Colette was allowed at least a sip of wine!

Colette's once bright smile dimmed a bit, clasping those chilly hands of her together. "I was just taught that I shouldn't, you know? It might make me too silly… A Chosen can't-" she stopped, pausing on the word and sighing. "Sorry."

Lloyd instantly saw the problem.

With a flourish, Lloyd went to the glass cups that were set for them on a nearby table, quickly handing one to Colette. "Well now you definitely are!"

"Oh? It's okay, really! I shouldn't have to-"

"Colette, you're not a Chosen, remember? We've been over this." He said so as he struggled to pull out the cork in the wine bottle, even going so far as to plant his foot on a chair to give him more force (and height?) "No matter what people still call you, no matter what anyone says. You're Colette! And you're allowed to do what you want- Ah!" Lloyd finally freed the cork which flew through the air, hitting him square in the forehead. "Ow…"

Colette gasped, but also let slip out a small giggle, the sound soft and airy within the warm inn room. The fire in the heater next to them crackled, warm light illuminating the floors beneath them. "Lloyd…"

"Come on, gimme your cup! We're drinking!" He couldn't help but notice how Zelos-like he sounded, but he hoped it wasn't too weird. "We've worked hard all year for the Exspheres, so it's fine!"

"Mm...okay!" Colette eagerly held out her cup, watching as Lloyd carefully poured the wine into it. The drink sloshed dangerously to the rim, but she adjusted her hold to not spill a drop. She had gotten less clumsy over the years. 

Lloyd remembered when he had simply drunk straight out of the bottle from Dirk's brewery cabinet, and the gruff voice that had pierced his foggy dreams in his hangover. Not this time though! Lloyd figured it was because he didn't drink it out of a cup like he was supposed to. 

Once done, the wine bottle was half-empty, set back down on the table. The glass reflected the falling snow outside, as well as the lights of others that walked past, celebrating the evening with a soft stillness that could only be found here in this snowy place. 

Lloyd grinned, held his cup up and encouraged Colette to do the same. "It does smell kind of weird but it probably tastes okay!"

Colette mimicked him, standing tall, and holding her cup to his, their glass surfaces clinking against the other. "Hehe. Should we share ours? I heard that's what you're supposed to do."

"Oh really? Let's do that!" Lloyd barely questioned it, bringing his own glass to her mouth, watching the way her breath misted in the air. But less now, since it was getting warmer in this room, and so comfortable too. "This works?"

"Yeah! I'll try not to spill!" Even as her very own laughter threatened that, even as her very own feet was close to tripping over his. Their boots were still wet from walking in the knee-deep snow outside, noses numb from the chilly breeze, from the white flakes in the air. But again, he had never seen her happier.

Besides, just one drink shouldn't mess him up too much, should it?

Even as Colette nearly misjudged the angle of her cup against his lips, Lloyd adapted. The wine was warm, a little tingly, and it didn't taste as yummy as he had hoped. But it was so warm, and he could only imagine how Colette must have felt that warmth, contrasting the chill against her cheeks.

He should have been more worried about him messing up, angling the cup too far to let some wine slip down her chin. "Uh oh! Sorry!"

"Ah! L-Lloyd!" Her laughter was light, and she used her free hand to grip his shoulder, fingers creasing the rough fabric of his jacket. 

"Don't worry though, it's free anyway!" And he started to laugh too, just a small chuckle, one that morphed like the slow build of a thunderstorm. But the drink made his chest feel light, and that same warmth traveled all the way down his arms and legs, even to the very tips of his ears. "This stuff … it's pretty good!"

Oh, maybe just even one sip for him was already too much…

"It is good! But, are you okay, Lloyd?" Colette tilted her head, so full of curiosity, as she always was with everything. "You're moving your feet a lot."

"I am?" Lloyd looked down, and what do you know? His feet kept shuffling around a bit, as if he was trying to dance! That was pretty weird. 

"Haha, weird!" And as he looked down, he nearly upended his drink, and doing so as if he was stuck in water, his movements stretched out. 

"Oh, careful!" Colette had to gently take Lloyd's cup from his hand, while also pulling her own back. "Heh, now you're being a bit silly…"

"That bad?" he asked, half-serious. "I wanna be cool, not silly!" But he could hear it in his voice. He was definitely being silly, maybe more than silly. The same familiar fog, pleasant and nice, so nice that he could almost fall asleep to it…

But he didn't sleep. He only kept looking at Colette, who seemed a little giddy herself, though just by a little bit. "You're still really cool, Lloyd."

"I am?" And again, another chuckle left him, tickling his sides. It felt different when she called him cool, even now. It made his heart leap across miles and miles. "I guess I'm also silly too…"

"That's right," Colette said. She took his hands in her own, swaying along with him, as if what he was doing was the most amazing thing and she also wanted to try. "You can be both!"

She still laughed so freely, like she always had. Except...more now. Years before, he'd felt that she would hold back, keeping her voice from being too loud, or holding her hands so close to herself, as if trying to be as small as possible. Sometimes, he'd see her go back to that, to old habits and routines, to all those proper ways of being a Chosen - to be more Chosen-like, like he once said to her.

The room was a bit spinny, and the warmth in his limbs, in his chest, now made it to his head, as if he was being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. It shouldn't be normal to get drunk this fast, should it…?

Oh. That's what Dirk had said to him all those years ago. "Lad, how'd you go and get yourself drunk?" Dirk had been so peeved that his thick accent had slipped, making his words nigh-unintelligible to Lloyd's ears then. 

He was drunk now, and he was falling, almost. Colette still held onto his hands, keeping him steady. He heard the concern there, just as her words trailed through the air. "Lloyd..?"

Even three years later, Colette was still Colette.

Lloyd reached out, arms encircling her close. "Hm...maybe tired. Maybe…" And her arms wrapped around his shoulders, the way she would on those cold nights outside, when their campfire would slowly dim, and they had to find the warmth wherever they could.

"Aw, but it's not even midnight yet." Her sadness was mostly feigned, but there was a hint of it there, just enough. "If you really wanted to sleep, we can."

It was getting too easy to fall asleep, to want that soft fuzziness in his head to surround him completely. But could he resist it? "Hmm...but… it's not midnight yet, you're right! Gotta wake up.. and not have the room spin.."

"Oh, Lloyd." Colette placed a hand over his head, fingers threading through his hair, tangles unfurling at her very touch. Too relaxing, but he didn't want to mention that. "Maybe we should have water to balance out the wine?"

"Mmhmm.." he nodded, but his gaze was caught by the way Colette's hair was framed by the window. Snowflakes continued to drizzle outside, on Flanoir where it was eternally winter. Even in Iselia, snow was so rare, he had mainly just heard of it in class when he could care to pay attention.

Outside it looked so cold still, not unlike the warmth inside, with the heater next to them, and Colette's arms around him like the softest scarf...

Lloyd picked his head up immediately, standing straight. Wait, he knew how to solve this! "We should go outside. Yeah! And…wait… we should go flying! Right now!"

Colette's hand paused in the middle of her hair-stroking, making part of Lloyd a little sad at it's absence. "Are you sure? We just got inside!" Another small space between breaths, spoken carefully. "And your wings…" 

He knew what she meant, deep in the back of his head, in the part where it wasn't drowned out by wine and the dizzying heat he felt when Colette looked at him just so. What he felt for her was solid and real - and so unlike his wings at all. He had rarely used them since the first time, unsure about their reliability. A Rheiard was solid, and his very own feet were more dependable. Heck, even Noishe he could trust to get to where he needed to be.

But sometimes you needed to take a risk, didn't you?

With a grin, he leaned in to kiss Colette, fast and full of rushing feelings that threatened to completely overwhelm him. But in a good way, where his heart was beating so hard and flushing warmth and energy all throughout his body. Colette only made a small little sound of surprise, one felt against his lips before she kissed him back.

It wasn't the first time they had ever kissed, and Lloyd couldn't imagine a time there could be a last. It felt like everything, wrapped into one, his heart so full he was sure it would overflow.

He had felt like this before; something so close to desperation that he would do anything at all to keep it near him. All of it had built, and he had to do something with that intense feeling, to keep it as steady as Colette would do for him.

He leaned back, even as he was reluctant to leave her mouth. Her lips were half-parted, and the mist of her breath was still there, ephemeral like the steam of a hot drink. It made him want to lean again and swallow it up, to take that heat within him.

But he also saw the reflection of a bright blue in her eyes. "Lloyd!"

With that, he knew. Grinning wide, Lloyd reached to open up the window of their inn room. Cold wind rushed forth, instantly waking him up and be grateful for the pricks of ice he felt at his cheeks. "Let's go!"

Behind him, his wings stretched, floating motes of sapphire sprinkling out into the air, dancing with the snowflakes that drifted inside. Colette's hair whipped around her, but she was laughing and smiling too. "Now you really are being silly!"

"I know!" Lloyd grabbed Colette by the hand, one foot already on the windowsill and leading her out. "Let's keep flying until it's the new year!"

"But how will we know?" Yet that didn't stop Colette from following him, already leaning out the window with Lloyd, thin spans of pink leaving her back. 

"Uh...we can guess!" And he didn't want to wait, he didn't want this feeling to end, so he took both her hands, stretched forth his wings, and soared out into the sky with her.

Flanoir was always so deeply covered in snow, and only a few times had he seen it from above in a Rheiard. The city looked like an array of little dollhouses, like the kind his dad would sometimes make for certain commissions. But that was always way high up, not like now, where their wingtips brushed across rooftops, and where they could hear the crunch of snow from people down below.

The air was so cold, and without their cloaks, they were exposed even more to the elements, the snow already damping his hair and jacket. His smile must have been frozen on his face. Maybe even their locked hands were frozen too! 

Colette only held on tighter, not seeming to mind at all. "It's still so cold!" 

"But it's good, isn't it?" Lloyd could only remember that one moment from her, on the way the snow had fallen on her hair, on how she reached out to catch them until they melted against her palm. Though maybe it felt different to having the snow fly against your face instead. 

If other people had noticed them- and how could they not, with the way they laughed and shouted while flying high like excitable birds - he didn't mind. He couldn't, because even as they flew, he could only grasp the joy on her face, on how tightly she gripped his fingers, and how her wings made a pink pattern against the night sky.

...They didn't fly long before Colette pointed out to him. "Look out, Lloyd!"

"Uh!" His wings beat again, making small blizzards around themselves. He swerved around the steeple he had nearly crashed into, feet stumbling onto a snow-and-ice covered roof. 

Then promptly, he fell right on his butt. And then just as promptly, Colette fell right on him, a mass of limbs and wings.

The snow continued to fall, and the air was still so very cold. Lloyd looked up into the night sky, right through the top foremost shape of Colette's right wing. "...Is it midnight yet?" Oh, he was going back to feeling tired.

"Ehe…" Colette giggled softly, sitting up, her cheeks so red, her hair a little ruffled. "There's a clock on one of these buildings. I don't think we're on it though."

Too hard to read clocks...too hard to move. The snow made a nice pillow, in a way.

"Should be able to tell by the stars up there…" he muttered, head laying back on the roof, unmindful to how much snow was sneaking into his jacket collar. "I bet it's already really close."

"Yeah," Colette agreed, her hands reaching out to his face, cold palms pressed against his equally cold cheeks. She was quick to connect with him this way, the natural motion never questioned, never unwanted. "And when it's passed, it means I got to spend a whole year with you."

Lloyd knew then why he felt this way, the sudden rush, the sudden desperation that made him kiss her so deeply and take her flying up into the sky, on wings that he only relied on when he had no choice left.

There was a time when Colette was not supposed to live this long. Still the years kept on growing, and still she was here.

"You always will, Colette," he told her, leaning into her touch. "For a lot more years. A lot more." It was the one real fear he had, but her cold palms that turned warm at the touch of his skin, and the wings that kept her slightly afloat, were all things that were a part of her, all still here. 

Maybe, she remembered too, because her eyes brightened then, catching both violet and azure. Or maybe, it was the wine finally catching up to her, finally unlocking all the little things inside that filled her chest, close to overflowing.

"You promise I will?" she asked him, voice soft. That I can stay by your side?

Lloyd reached out to her, pulled her down, both of them so, so warm against the cold. "I promise."

So strange, to feel so light yet so heavy, to feel the heat in one's skin and yet also a deep chill. But his shiver as he kissed her again, on a slope of a snowy rooftop, was one of warmth instead. The steeple of the church was engraved against the sky, but the stars outnumbered it by so much. 

Their clothes were soaked, and even his wings ached a little. But Colette was all around him and that was enough. I promise you'll stay with me, for every year.

[trigilis]

getting to know you meme

The Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better.

I was tagged by @buildarocketboys, thanks! :)

Nickname: i don’t really have one? i like my name and i used to hate it when people called me nicknames. So i always told them that and then i’d just not respond to any nicknames anyone came up with? Which means none of them ever stuck. In hindsight i’m not even sure why i was so annoyed by nicknames? but yeah.

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 161cm (i think)

Time Right Now: 19:31 (=7:31pm)

Favorite Musical Artist:  idk?? this is really hard. i’ve been listening to a lot of mumford & sons lately. and i just discovered dodie (doddleoddle on youtube) and i really like her songs too! and bastille of course. 

Song Stuck in Your Head: "she” by dodie :D 

Last Movie Watched: Star Wars: The Force Awakens 

Last TV Show Watched: dirk gently’s holistic detective agency - i watched it in two afternoons the week before christmas, because i just couldn’t concentrate on uni stuff anymore. i reaaaallly needed these holidays.

What Are You Wearing Right Now: jeans, a blue t-shirt and a sweater

When Did You Create Your Blog: October 2013 (just looked it up in my archive haha)

What Kind of Stuff Do You Post: lots of queer and social justice stuff, but also fandom stuff (mainly fanart and meta) and memes and cute animals and interesting facts and anything i like, really? i don’t have a theme or anything

Do You Have Any Other Blogs: yeah but only for like archiving purposes (like i have a blog with masterposts and advice and stuff about how to adult, i have one with calming and happy things for when i’m sad etc.)

Do You Get Asks Regularly: no. to be fair, i’m not online regularly either

Why Did I Choose My URL: it was the name of this island in a (really shitty) story i once wrote and that island was basically paradise? and i wanted this blog to be like a safe haven and a place for me to be happy (and also learn stuff etc), basically like this island was for the people in the story. and also i think it sounds nice

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Gender: greygender girl?!? idk. some type of nonbinary girl, i’m not really too concerned with labelling it atm

Pokémon Team: i have no idea

Favorite Color: probably green (but also, can i say rainbow?)

Average Hours of Sleep: 9 lmao. i literally cannot get out of bed if i sleep less than that. i regularly whine about it, though, because there are people who only need seven hours! how unfair is that! i want to have two more hours every day to do stuff :( 

Dream Job: ahh god i have no idea? i should really think about this but the prospect of having to find a job is terrifying so i mostly don’t think about it (great tactic i know)

Cutest baby animals: all the furry ones (if i had to choose one i would probably say kittens though)

i’m gonna tag @invernom (we haven’t talked in so long! i’m gonna message you again when i have more time, i hope you’re doing well!), @ne-o-mi, @oddp1ant, @messymaelstrom, @okami-kamikaze, @princesse-tchimpavita and @minamoonrock (only do it if you feel like it, obviously!)