#if anything remotely like this exists lmk

[luv-x-liv]

i need a fic where sirius, remus, and lily are part of a band, with sirius being the lead singer (and guitarist on occasion), remus is the electric guitarist/bassist (gonna be honest guys i do not know the difference 🙏💀), and lily is on the keyboard, and everybody ships wolfstar (as they should) including lily, and there's this one song where remus does a solo, so like he's just letting every emotion he's ever felt out onto that poor instrument and sirius is like "omg bf material" stares at him like he's the only person in the room, and forgets when he has to start singing again and yeah, i didn't really think it through that much tbh

[lcriedlastnight]

Can you write something with Oscar based on this post

https://www.tumblr.com/girlonabreak/744982039484366848/may-i-offer-you-something-water-food-my

i’ll try my best anon! thank you very much for your request, i hope you like it!

tw: fem!reader, swears, lmk if you want anything added.

w/c: 2.3k

oscar was a little nervous to have you over. the relationship was fairly fresh and this would be the first time you would be at his place. he’d spent the week prior cleaning every single nook and cranny he could find, then going on tiktok and finding out how to clean the ones he didn’t even know existed. not that you would be inspecting the space behind his fridge for it’s cleanliness.

three days before, when he’d gone shopping, he texted you asking if you liked this specific brand of chocolate and if you would like some for when you stayed over at the weekend.

oscar had gotten more blankets, pillows and even got you a new teddy bear, scared that you would forget the one you couldn’t sleep without. he was determined that you were having a good nights sleep with him. you had slept together before, but not properly. those had only been you falling asleep during a film after a date or oscar coming over to yours the day after the race weekend and feeling so jet lagged he fell asleep on your couch two minutes after you started carding your fingers through his hair.

you had always made him feel so welcome at yours so he was desperate to make you feel the same. even though this was a bit different than those times he was at yours.

oscar pottered around fixing things that didn’t really need fixing at all. he triple checked the fridge incase all the food inside had gone missing. then he checked his bank account to make sure he still had his money and he hadn’t been hacked, just incase you wanted to order in or even go to the shops.

a soft knock at his door shoves oscar out of his thoughts, he runs to the door to answer. you were on the other side, weekend bag in hand. you had little to no makeup on and your hair was thrown up not too messily. oscar then thought about if you would want to shower and how he only had manly products. how could he forget to buy you shower stuff?

“osc?” you ask as you stand in the doorway. oscar blinks once, twice, then is scrambling to take your bag off you.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry. i don’t know where i was there. you look gorgeous. come in.” he says as he spins around and stands to the side to let you walk inside first.

you slowly walk inside and the first thing you notice is the amount of candles he has lit. it give the living room the most homely feel.

“your place is lovely, osc. it’s so cozy.” you tell him turning around from looking at the kitchen to face him. oscar grins at your words.

“thank you, pretty. you want me to put your bag in the room?” oscar asks, feeling a lot less high strung now that you were actually here in front of him. that usually did help calm him down.

you nod. oscar tries his best not to leave you standing all by yourself in the living room for too long. he basically sprints to his room and back. a blink and you didn’t even know he was gone, type of situation.

you’re not standing in the living room when he comes back thought. you’re sitting on the couch. you look like you belong there. it sends a wave of affection to oscar’s heart.

“you want to watch a film?” you ask him from the couch. you already had the remote in your hands.

“‘course, what kind are you feeling?” oscar asks, heading to the cupboard in the hallway to get the massive blanket he’d bought at the shops a few days earlier.

“dunno.” is your reply. oscar can tell you have a film in mind but you may be a little embarrassed to ask to watch it. as he comes to sit down beside you, he throws the blanket over the top of you and it almost suffocates you. instead of commenting on it you just get comfy. oscar rakes his brain for previous conversations about films to find the one you could watch everyday and not get tired of. as he remembers he snatches the remote off of you to bring it up. you don’t say anything but you watch on skeptically.

“this one seem okay? i’ve never seen it before but i heard you like it.” oscar says, a cocky smirk on his face as he sees the look on yours after you realise the film. you grin.

“yeah i supposed we could stick this one on and give it a go.” you pretend like you couldn’t quote the dialogue in your sleep. oscar pressed play on the film and instantly feels the need to be touching you. you had chosen to sit in the corner of oscar’s L shaped couch, an incredibly you thing to do, oscar thought. but because of where you decided to sit oscar was unsure how to go about touching you. he gives up trying to think of ways to get you in his lap.

“come sit in my lap.”

you turn your head from the tv, the opening credits rolling in the screen. “okay.” you reply, shuffling to follow his request.

it ended up that oscar was laying in the corner of the couch and faced the tv. you were sitting to his side with your legs slung over his, shoulders brushing against each other with every breathe. oscar holds one of your hands underneath the massive blanket, the other traces his name on your ankle - just above your socks.

a quarter of the way through, you shuffled around to get comfortable again, your head ended up resting on his bicep as you had moved down a little more. oscar had to hold back the coo that threatened to escape him as he felt your check squash up against his skin. oscar throws his focus back on the tv, as hard as it is he wants to know the film you love so much.

at the end of the first act, oscar moves his attention back to you, he wonders if you’re hungry but are just too scared to ask. or if you were waiting on him to offer you something. were you tired and just wanted to move to bed right now? it wasn’t that late surely. what if you actually did want to go for that shower right now? would he have enough time to go buy some flowery shampoo and body wash so you wouldn’t end up smelling like him?

“can i get you anything to eat?” oscar asks, thumb rubbing over your ankle bone. he wonders if this is the ankle you broke when you were five, or if it was the other one.

“are you hungry?” you ask oscar, head turning to look up at him. the aussie almost melts at your expression. “i am if you are.” you say to him.

this confuses oscar but he decides that eating wouldn’t hurt. he doesn’t care if you don’t eat it all.

“you want to order in or just make something here?” he asks again. it makes him feel bad making you choose but he wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable with him tonight. the time when he can just know what you want and do it for you was right around the corner and he couldn’t wait for it.

“order in.” you say after a few moments of silence. “don’t want to move from here until bed.” you explain. although oscar didn’t think you needed to explain, he thought it was cute. he thought the same thing anyway, not having felt this content in months.

“fine by me. i’ll order it and it should be here soon.”

your film finishes and you and oscar finish the food. you talk a little at the end of the film, asking him about how lando and zak were doing and how strong the car was. don’t get oscar wrong, as much as he loved his job and the fact that you took so much interest in what he did, he just wanted a day where he could sit with you and hypothesise whether or not spider-man was too young to be spidering across the city. instead of telling you this he changed the topic, comfortably so you don’t notice.

“it’s getting late. are you getting tired, pretty?” he asks. he can see the way your shoulders are a little more slumped as you sit in front of him, the film behind you having ended and instead playing a trailer for some unrelated tv series. you nod to answer his question. “a little, yeah.”

“c’mon then. bedtime for us.” oscar says picking you up by your waist and flinging you over his shoulder. he carries you to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. you are laughing all the way there. oscar’s already thinking about which ring would suit you more. he goes in the cabinet underneath the sink and grabs a pack of two toothbrushes. one pink, one blue. it’s so domestic, oscar nearly burst when he seen them in the shops and thought of giving the pink one to you.

“i know you brought a bag full of stuff and you probably have a toothbrush with you but i thought you could keep this one here and i could maybe clear out a drawer for you in my bedroom for you to keep things here so you don’t have to go back and forth for clothes.” oscar rambles as he puts toothpaste on both brushes and hands yours to you. it’s like oscar keeps forgetting that this is the first time you’re sleeping over, mind already thinking about the next time, and the next and the next.

oscar shoves his brush in his mouth to stop his mouth. you laugh at him. “i would like that. thank you osc.” you say before copying him and brushing your teeth. oscar watches like you were doing something really interesting, his eyes darting over your face. tonight he learns another new thing about you, you’re a really messy brusher. toothpaste slipping down your chin as you brush. he has to hold back the laugh that longs to escape him, not wanting to cover you in more toothpaste than you already have all over you.

oscar spits into the sink then quickly rinses his mouth with mouthwash, then spitting that out too. you follow his actions, hopping down from the counter to spit into the sink, standing in front of oscar. before you can rinse your mouth out with mouthwash though, oscar turns your face to his with a gentle hand.

“you got a little something..” you smile at his words. oscar belonged in a romcom for sure. the boy’s thumb coming out to brush away the leftover toothpaste on your chin. you smile at him in thanks but your smile falls as he wipes it on the shoulder of your t-shirt.

“oscar! why would you do that! what’s wrong with you!?” you squeal. oscar laughs hard, his head thrown back in joy. you’re not really mad, the smile on your face hard to miss. it’s hard to be angry at the boy in front of you who literally looks like the human version of the sun.

once you’ve finished in the bathroom - oscar yapping away as you take your makeup off and done your skincare at the sink - he pulls you to his bed.

“you want to change in here or do you want me to go to the bathroom?” oscar asks, throwing you the t-shirt he’s just washed (and maybe sprayed with his cologne before you came over). you catch it before hesitating with your answer. oscar answers for you.

“why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and i can get a big reveal, seeing you with my t-shirt on?” oscar asks, giddy at his own idea. you nod, if only just to please him, although you do like his idea, thinking it’s cute he wants that.

you’re quick to get changed, your hair taken out of the ponytail to hand down, it will probably get in your face tonight. you hurry out the bathroom to find oscar sitting on top of the bed in his own pyjamas. oscar’s eyes light up at the sight of you.

“jesus christ, pretty girl. you’re going to kill me.” he says standing up, arms outstretched like he would die if he didn’t touch you in the next ten seconds. you happily fall into his embrace. face against his chest. oscar’s nose in your hair.

“you smell like you and me.” oscar smiles as he pull away from the hug and pulls you into bed instead. you laugh at his discovery. “as long as i smell good.” you tell him.

after a quick okay fight over who was getting what side of the bed, you are both cuddled up to each other. it most definitely won’t stay like this all night because what oscar doesn’t know yet is you move a lot in your sleep. he’ll find that out in the morning, but for now he’s happy to have you right where he wants you. oscar is big spoon as his arms are wrapped around you, big hands under your top and on your warm, soft skin. leg over your hip, keeping you trapped under him, not that you would ever complain about that.

the teddy bear oscar had gotten you incase you forgot yours was laying at the bottom of the bed, while you clutch yours to your chest. one of your hands ghosting over oscar’s on your stomach.

the tv is on, playing some sitcom you’d asked for. oscar never usually sleeps with the tv on but for you? he would sleep on a bed of nails if it made you comfortable.

“g’night, pretty baby.” oscar mumbles into your hair, not bothering that it was in his face. you mumble something of the sort back, he knew you were basically asleep. ‘this is my future.’ oscar thought to himself before he fell asleep.

[sokoviansimp]

hi! I absolutely love the package au series you have going on, it’s so cute and one on my favourites on here 🤫

if you’re taking requests maybe we could see reader running around the compound causing trouble and wanda (and/or nat) trying to stop them causing mischief??

ps hope you’re having a good day 🥹

In Your Corner

✒ Pairings : Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary : As reader becomes more comfortable, things become harder for Wanda.

✒ Tags and Warnings: tantrums, embarrassment, lmk if I missed any.

✒ Author's Note : I really appreciate the request, I am so sorry that this took so long, hope you enjoy

✒ Word Count : 2252

✒ Read Time: 11 minutes

Masterlist : The Package AU

Now that you were starting to get comfortable around the compound, you had the itch to explore every inch of it. It was natural for someone your age to seek out their environment and try to discover what the world holds around them. Most kids your age, however, are not surrounded by multi-million dollar science labs housing tech that could quite literally destroy the world. 

Until recently, you never felt the need to go out of your way and seek new things, it was stressful enough for you to just find solace in the fact that you were safe here now and no one had any sort of hidden agenda. You had grown accustomed to trusting no one during your time at Hydra; it was hard for you to believe that anyone would want you without something in return, but Wanda made you feel safe again. 

The more your worries melted away about this place, the more you became more curious about your surroundings, wanting to touch and feel anything you could get your hands on and know why and how anything and everything came to exist. Up to this point, you’ve had no boundaries throughout the compound. There was no need really, you mostly followed Wanda around like a lost puppy, attached to her hip, never venturing to somewhere she didn’t lead you to. 

This morning, however, Wanda left you in the common room to watch tv while she made you breakfast. This gave her a clear view of you when needed, but ultimately the freedom to whip up your meal quickly without interruption. You sat there facing the cartoons on the television, but your mind couldn’t help but wonder what lays down the hallway by the stairwell. You’ve seen plenty of people go in that direction, but you’ve never been down it yourself. No one had specifically told you that you weren’t allowed down the hallway, so why haven’t you explored it yet? What are you waiting for? Nothing, there’s no reason for you to be left in the dark about it at this point, so you get up from the couch in the living room and head down the mysterious hallway. 

The corridor had a few twists and turns; but not too long after venturing down, you came to an elevator plastered with a warning sign that read Authorized Personel Only underneath a red exclamation point encased in a triangle. This didn’t phase you much though because those are big words and you barely know how to read yet. Sure, you could sound it out, but even if you got that far, you wouldn’t know what it meant. To you, the exclamation point just screamed fun.

On the next floor up, there was a room with large blurred glass windows and a set of automatic doors. You walk right in with ease, wondering why the lights are so bright in there. The room is littered with every kind of tech you can imagine, you curiously examined all the different gadgets and machines that were strewn about. One of the items on the counter was a remote, it held a couple of buttons on it, but there was one large blue button housed by a glass door that had you intrigued. 

“Y/N, do you want me to put syrup on your waffles?” Wanda called out to you from the kitchen. She knew that you would ultimately want syrup on your waffles, but she made it a habit  to give you as many decisions as she could. This way, you can have her put the syrup on for you or you could do it yourself. Either way, it was a part of your life that you could control and after growing up in similar circumstances to you, she understood how important it is to feel in control of your own life. “Y/N?” She follows up after not hearing a response as she makes her way over to the couch. Once she's met with empty cushions staring back at her, she starts looking around in areas that you frequented. Like the bedroom, movie room, and bathroom; but when she comes up empty in each spot her nerves began to rise. It’s not like you to just walk off. 

Without thinking of what the button could be controlling, you lifted the glass housing and pushed both of your thumbs down onto the blue piece of illuminated plastic. Suddenly, the lab was filled with a bright red light, and one of the machines in front of you started to shake violently. F.R.I.D.A.Y. immediately alerted the compound that one of the machines was malfunctioning. Tony and Nat rushed in, trying to figure out what was happening. And then, out of the light emerged a giant robot, towering over them all.

Your eyes widened in awe as you saw the robot come to life. "Woah!" you exclaimed as you stood still in shock.

Tony was not amused. "Y/N, what did you do?" he began raising his voice.

You shrunk at the sound of his tone. You didn't know what to say. You had just been exploring and didn't mean to cause any trouble. You didn’t mean to make anyone upset with you, especially Tony. Men already scare you a bit, so an angry man was surely not something you sought out.

Wanda quickly came in and saw the commotion. She took one look at the robot and quickly realized what was going on. With a flick of her wrist, she used her powers to shut down the machine.

“Y/N, what are you doing in here?” she asked kneeling down to your level.

“I was esploring” you stated honestly. 

“You were?” Wanda was surprised, that’s not something you ever cared for before now and she wanted to tread lightly on the topic so that she didn’t completely kill your spark. 

You nodded in return, “Sweetie, there are some places in the compound that aren’t safe for little ones” 

“Der is?” your embarrassment began to build up, you didn’t know that you weren’t allowed here. 

“It’s ok, you didn’t know. There are plenty of places you can explore, I can show you,” she states as she reaches out for your hand, which you take. 

Throughout the day, Wanda took you all over the compound to show you places that you could go at anytime and other places that you can go with adult supervision. You were grateful that Wanda took the time to show you all over. Most of these places, you only needed to see once to be sated, but having never known what lay behind the doors may have driven you mad. 

The next couple of days, you began breaking out of your innocent shell. With the itch for exploring scratched, you were still feeling more comfortable around the compound. Wanda felt like everywhere she went she was cleaning up after you. You began to play more with your toys in different areas, leaving them around for her to pick up. Nat found marker scribbled along the walls this morning on her way to the kitchen. Luckily, she found it before Tony and was able to show you how to clean it before he caught sight of the damage. 

Wanda was grateful that Nat was there for you, not only to help teach you where the proper spots to use markers are, but also to teach you how to clean up your mess and take responsibility. This past week has been stressful for her, it almost seems like a flip just switched in your brain and you became a completely different person. Of course, there were parts of you that were still the same, but they seemed overshadowed by all of the mischief you’ve been causing. 

“Put your plate in the dishwasher and we can go upstairs for your bath” Wanda explained in a gentle tone. Your eyes widened at the mention of bathtime. As quickly as you could, you placed your plate into the dishwasher and darted into the common room to delve into your toys. Confused, Wanda turned her head to watch you blatantly disobey her. Maybe you didn't hear her, “Y/N? Time for a bath, come on” she waved.

“NO!” you yelled as you continued on with your legos. Surprised by your response, Wanda had to take a deep breath before continuing, “No?” she replied in a stern tone. 

“I don’t want to take a baf!” you cried out as you began smashing the legos you had in your hand down onto the floor. Unbeknownst to you, in your intense emotion, Wanda could feel the floor begin to rumble as the items that hung on the wall started shaking. 

Wanda's fingers illuminated as red seeped into the air, causing all of your building blocks to vanish until you were left sitting in the middle of an empty floor. The shock of everything around you disappearing caused you to still for a few moments.

“What’s going on, Y/N? You love bathtime.” Wanda stated as she came to squat down at your level, trying to prevent the situation from escalating. 

You looked back into her eyes, and instead of being mad at you, she was curious. Tears immediately began building in your eyes, and you broke under her soft gaze. Here you were causing trouble and acting out and she was nothing but gentle with you. Once your tears started to fall, she immediately wrapped you tightly in a hug, “Oh, come here detka” 

“I- I sorry” you choked out before uncontrollably sobbing. 

“It’s ok, let it out malyshka” she said and she gently rubbed circles into your back. 

During your crying fit, Wanda scooped you up and carried you upstairs to your shared room, all the while holding you tightly and whispering reassurances in your ear. 

She stood there swaying you back and forth in her arms. After a long and intense crying fit, your sobs had become quieter, and your body movements had become slower as you hesitantly began to calm down. Your cries eventually turned into sniffles as you tried to regulate your breathing, and the sadness in your expression shifted towards neutral as you relaxed into her neck. Your face was still wet with tears, but your breathing had begun to even out. As you tired yourself out, your body felt heavy in Wanda’s arms.

You took to sucking your thumb as a form of comfort, something to focus on, and as much as Wanda had been trying to nix that bad habit, she didn’t say anything in this moment, she just continued to sway her hips as you settled down in her arms. 

Your eyes would occasionally flutter open and closed, struggling to stay awake as your body relaxed. Every now and then, you would let out a deep sigh as if trying to expel all the leftover sadness and frustration from your body. Wanda gently rocked you back and forth, whispering soothing words and running her hand through your hair. 

Despite your exhaustion, you still had a hint of sadness in your expression and your breathing would occasionally hitch, indicating that you weren't fully over your emotional outburst. However, as you grew more tired, your tears dried up, and you became more and more at peace, finally dozing off in Wanda’s arms.

Wanda continued to hold you in her arms as she rocked you back and forth to ensure you would continue to doze off deeper. As she sat there mindlessly running her hand through your hair, she thought back to what could’ve been the cause of your outburst. It seemed like you were certainly coming out of your shell more lately but you never behaved like this. The past few days have been rough for her just trying to keep up with you. It seemed that you were extra hard to keep up with. 

It could be that, like her, you were just exhausted. You weren’t used to going through so much energy at once and your body just needed its rest and you didn’t know how to interpret that so you became irritable. 

Once Wanda feels confident that you’re sound asleep, she gently tries to lay you down in your bed and tuck you in. However, as she pulls away from you, your grip tightens as you whine for her. 

“Shh- sh,” she coos as she tries to comfort you enough to pull away. 

“Mama cuddewls-” you whined again as you tried to pull her closer, still on the edge of slumber.

The title took Wanda by surprise, her eyes immediately widened, “What did you say?” 

Not completely conscious, you didn’t answer. Instead, you tried to seek comfort from her. 

Giving in without hesitation, she climbed into your bed along with you to cuddle. Your body immediately molded to hers as you tried to get as close as possible for comfort. She held you with a goofy smile on her face, elated to know that you think of her as your mother. 

The feeling of you being her daughter came to her the moment she laid her eyes on you through the cell door, but she never wanted to push or pry to be that for you. She wanted you to keep the memories of your birth mother and instead of replacing her, she simply wanted to exist along with her. To be there for you no matter the circumstance, to teach you that good really does exist in the world, to simply be in your corner.

Taglist: @mymommawanda @livslifeonline @reggierizzoli @mythixmagic @lesbicentism @marvelogic @katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic ​

Lmk if you ever want to be removed or added <3

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a2d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 1,558

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: I told y'all that I was being lazy. We gotta play catch up now :c This is... roughly 1/3 of Ch.4? maybe more? I'm hoping to have them have a decent conversation but that's beyond me sometimes ^^;;

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, Flashback (yelling), pls lmk if this needs smthn more specific

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part (Unfinished </3)

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, or you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and exist there. You brush your teeth while you’re there, doing your best to ignore grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as water-proof as advertised.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the maudlin feeling of the morning and lumber your way into the kitchen. You spy your twenty on the counter where you’d left it. You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the run had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. The little note on top isn’t new either, usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into your eggs, well. That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym.

You can’t help your eyes from catching on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin when you strip away your sleepwear, and you realize that you hadn’t had the opportunity to study your mark in days. Things have been... hectic, to say the least.

In the name of returning to your baseline, you figure you can’t ignore this part of your routine either.

You amble over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

The names of the flowers come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many a joyous afternoon learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone. You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by your sister’s toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny hands.

You’d spend hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants. How to have them thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer. If you weren’t in the garden you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak- despair- that marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside. You don’t even remember what he’d said. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time. It might have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless he’d yelled and yelled and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything, hadn’t even made sense. And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, and the soil you’d once called home was no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turn away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming fills your soul, and you notice how tightly you're clutching the garden around your waist. You gingerly pry your hands away and study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw-marks in this garden too.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment.

Maybe jogging all the way to gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

After guzzling down half of your water bottle you enter the building, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish, and you’re greeting by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do wish you could go home already.

There’s a guy already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they don’t. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his form. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove his man has done it. This time you physically shake your head to snap yourself out of it.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze.

Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to be going a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know this to be true, even the trial period was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

Your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

[thrandilf]

I'm willing to read most shadowpeach fics even if they are pretty ooc (I have a limit of ooc, but it's pretty wide) but fics I can't read are ones where macaque is just now in modern times meeting wukong. Like I'm sorry, but macaque would be a completely different person if he never met wukong. So wildly different that a macaque acting like macaque breaks my suspension of belief, and a macaque acting like he should in that scenario isn't my macaque anymore by any metric (might as well be an OC)

I sat here for a bit wondering how to say that I haven't actually found any Shadowpeach fics I like that I haven't written myself without sounding horridly self absorbed/picky but it's where I'm at

To be clear, I've only been in fandom for a few months and I haven't looked all that hard, I'm sure out of the 8k or so on ao3 there are absolute gems, just haven't found em. I'm open to recs! but I'm in fandom for characterization and specific dynamics which drew me to the characters in the first place, so you've got the biggest lead on me for not being picky/coming off as judgy, anon hahaha

In that circumstance you laid out I'd also wonder who Wukong would even be. He's influenced by his past relationships just as much, even if he isn't as overt about it as Macaque/he's had a wider range of influence since Macaque is more Wukong centered than vice versa, it would still be Different.

Fic of them in early or pre brotherhood would be really interesting! Or in this AU- a Macaque full out reincarnation would be fascinating if LBD hadn't brought him back. Like, that could be interesting, but their history is such a core part, even as obscured as some of it is to us right now, that I'd have a hard time trying to untangle it and make it feel like them. It would still have to be History on Wukong's end for me or too many pieces are gone from the jenga tower yfm

I'm also someone who writes canon compliant or adjacent stuff Most of the time, where I like to extrapolate and kind of take the edges of the picture and expand, like a degree removed from canon/plausible, but not putting people in totally different worlds or altering major canon events. Hell, I don't even make OCs for fics unless my arm is twisted by necessity (my novel length tdp fic has some OCs because I needed more characters for the mains to meet in the world/filling in vacuums left by foreign leaders being killed, said OCs are still as minor as I can make them while being hopefully interesting and serving their purpose)

However, I know that a majority of fandom really loves totally new AUs in other worlds/making OCs (LMK fandom is especially OC heavy which was a surprise to me) and that's its own writing exercise/source of fun, it's just one I've never had a desire to read or write. Canon for me is fun to explore more of canon potential, not to fuel something seemingly unrelated

As I said, I'm picky. I typically don't even read modern AUs for fantasy characters, it just so happens that LMK works so well that I love the futuristic world and get my magic meets technology kicks in canon, otherwise I wouldn't have anything written in remotely modern day within the past few years. LMK got me back into it

So I hear you about characterization/I probably sound like I live a stifled existence but I just thrive by being as close to canon as I can while playing with it, my most fun is different from others on the fan spectrum

And all this isn't to say that I feel like an expert in characterizing Macaque and Wukong- they're tough cases to crack. They're challenging. They both have their facades and levels of jadedness and sincerity. LMK requires flat out studying to really nail anyone I've found, even characters I feel more confident in writing- and that challenge is part of the draw for me too!

[sovpologist]

ok finally went ahead and caught up with the season and here are my thoughts!

hmmm... i like the season's concept but not the execution sadly. it feels bad to have an entire season where the central question is "how do you be more than a weapon" and the answer to that question is "kill yourself to save others" i guess????? rasputin didnt really get the chance to live as more than a weapon and ended his life AS a weapon but its okay and "growth" because he's being a weapon... for people he cares about this time? idk, i'm not one of those people who are like "you don't owe anyone anything" because i think helping other people is a beautiful thing to do and i love destiny's focus on community, but i feel like rasputin's ending was more about denying him community if that makes sense... he never really got the chance to experience humanity and be human unless you count his recouped felwinter memories

i feel like there were so many interesting routes we could have gone with a fully mobile and "human" rasputin that i guess the writers were just not interested in exploring... im not a rasputin loremaster so if there was precedence for rasputin being inseparable from his warsats please lmk but it genuinely felt like it came from nowhere that rasputin HAD to die to shut down the warsats. until now they had been treated as something completely separate from him (they were able to operate remotely even when he was shut down for god's sake, although you can argue gameplay elements don't equal canon)

even when ana says "there has to be another way" rasputin's response seems to indicate that it doesn't even matter because somehow someday someone will eventually get hold of the warsats and use them for harm so he might as well just die now, which again is like.... such an unhealthy and negatively self-sacrificing mindset!!!!! it is genuinely really sad to play through all the seasonal missions at once and do a speedrun of rasputin going from confident to completely depressed and questioning his purpose in life if he can't be a weapon and use force to overpower his enemies, and then to have that arc just NEVER be resolved bc he immediately decides he needs to die for the good of others. it was just a completely unsatisfying arc

there are a billion other ways the writers could have sufficiently nerfed rasputin so to not have to deal with an overpowered war god of a character who can call in an airstrike anywhere at any time and can hack every computer in existence simultaneously (listen, i get it, it would be hard to write around that) and i have to believe the destiny writers aren't stupid so i guess they genuinely just really thought rasputin had to die, probably because they wanted something "big" and "shocking" going into lightfall. and i get the meta reason is that this "chapter" of destiny is wrapping up and we have to get rid of some dangling characters and plot threads but idk i don't think that should stop me from being able to critique HOW they decide to shed characters. have rasputin lose access to his warsats and databases and decide he wants to fuck off to felwinters peak to do some soul searching if you really just dont want to have to deal with writing him into lightfall and final shape!

it just feels like such a waste as a character and i'm not even a huge rasputin fan. what really frustrates me is the wasted potential. you barely actually get to meet the "real" rasputin and he's gone, which is why the whole "emotional death scene" fell very flat for me. the ending cinematic was very gorgeous, no doubt about it, but it wasn't as emotionally moving to me as it was to others and i assume thats because i didn't play d1 so i wasn't waiting seven years for this character to actually show up as anything other than ominous backwards disembodied russian voicelines

but i dont want to be totally negative, there were a lot of small character moments i really liked. the bray sisters stuff was great and i loved mara and osiris' conversation, it was nice to see the game acknowledge that they're friends. oh and i genuinely liked rasputin's poetry! submit this man's work to the poetry foundation! it was also nice to see the mid season operation missions get changed up a little too, they felt fun and unique, and seraph station was sooooo fun! i feel like the gameplay elements of this season were great; i just didn't love the direction they took the story in the end

[folkloreguk]

Shower Thoughts

A/N: I like writing about personal emotions a lot…this feels a little like writing a diary but also like self-therapy and it really helps me. I hope anyone who also feels this way knows that they’re not alone with those feelings. Also happy birthday to the sweetest @sunghoonied!! I wrote this thinking of you and I hope you have the best day ♡ PS. I didn't proofread this so if you find errors kindly lmk please! x

genre: optional bias (male), meant to comfort you, angst, fluff, talk of loneliness / anxiety but with a good ending!

words: ~ 2.5 k

taglist: @lovely-ateez, @mochi-ficz, @soundsofminho, @runaway-fics

People said that walking was supposed to clear your mind. But then why was it, that you had gotten so lost in your worst thoughts out there? The time spent in fresh air was meant to let your mind wander to calm places and smiling at strangers should have made you feel less lonely. But with every step you took and with every passing face your body felt heavier. Not only did you carry your figure, but the crushing burden that had been nagging at you for weeks.

Watching others stroll around the streets seemed so easy. And perhaps it should have been easy, after all. It made you wonder, maybe you were the only one whose mind was constantly covered in dark rain clouds. Maybe everyone had their place in the world, and they knew just where and with whom they belonged. Surely, they didn’t overthink every conversation they had with a random stranger. Did their brain also function merely on autopilot in public, while the back of your mind was chaos of doubt and fear? Was there anybody else who spent day to day worrying about never finding someone who could deal with the burden of you and your issues? How was somebody else going to love you if you were this sad?

Those people that care about you are the ones you should be honest with, after all. There was no brushing off the How Are You question with a quick “I’m fine”. How could someone deal with the real answer you would give? You didn’t want to pull anybody down with you when you were hurting. So then again, maybe it was for the better your apartment was always empty when you came home. With no one to ask you about your feelings, you couldn’t cause anyone else agony and worry. Your own pain was enough – one person was enough to deal with it.

You shoved your shoes in the corner next to your door. If it wasn’t for your mental state, you would’ve guessed your jacket was a hundred kilos heavy. But even after you had peeled it off, nothing changed. You dragged your body to the bathroom.

You’d be so proud if only you could go one day without crying. And you had almost made it, had it not been for the godforsaken shower water. There was something about seeing the droplets on your skin and on the tiles that caused your tears to come out freely. The noise of the shower made you feel shut off from the rest of the world. Now it was just you and your salty ocean tears. The tears united with the shower water. It was hard to tell which drops on your cheek had originated in your swollen eyes and which had fallen from the shower head. This way, it seemed almost as if there was an invisible force that was wiping over your face, trying to appease your sobs.

But there was nobody. And that was why you only cried harder. If only you had listened to your own words when you tried to cheer yourself up. Then maybe you would feel better when you wrapped your arms around your own body. You were desperate. The notion that someone could hold you like this, one day, should have gifted you at least some form of hope. But no, you knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Not with this mindset and your sadness.

You hiccupped helplessly. This was all so tiring. Before you knew it, you sat down on the shower floor under the hot stream. At least there was no one waiting to get into the shower after you. So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blocking the bathroom and wasting all the hot water. For a few minutes you remained on the floor, drowning out your cries under the splashing sound. You felt the impulse to scream. Look, I’m here! I’m a person with interests and passions and emotions! Doesn’t anybody see me? I’m sick of only existing! Won’t somebody teach me how to live?

But at most, that would cause you a noise complaint. If only you weren’t so terrible at talking to people. Maybe you could make a friend someday – when your anxiety got better. Like in a trance, you finally switched off the water and grabbed your towel. You were so utterly lost in your thoughts, that everything went by as if you were only watching from the sidelines. You got out of the shower, dried off, put on some body lotion – an attempt at self-care – and got dressed in the most comfortable, baggy clothes you owned.

What on earth would you do tonight? There really were only so many ways you could have fun (or rather distract yourself from feeling down) when you were all by yourself and everything reminded you of how lonely you were. The option of just going to sleep slipped past you. But you weren’t tired enough. You knew you’d lie awake for hours, left alone with your thoughts. And crying yourself to sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.

So you opted for the most mainstream idea: Netflix. You plopped down on the sofa, a steaming hot cup of tea on the small table in front of you. Now you only had one thing left to do. You needed to choose some stupid show and let the problems of tv characters invade your brain and pray they would shove out your own issues. You weren’t even hungry. Although there was a part of you that wished it could have eaten your weight in chocolate, but you knew that had little to do with hunger.

Just as you reached for the remote control, the sound of your doorbell made you jump. I’ll just let it be. They’ll think I’m not home and leave. Those thoughts came right away. It made you curse yourself. You had just cried over feeling alone, but now you’re shutting out some random neighbor who probably just needs some tiny favor from you. Way to go. So, more to prove a point to yourself than to be friendly, you stepped to your door and opened it.

“Hi.” It was your neighbor. Your handsome, kind neighbor, who you always met at the local grocery store. You were so mentally exhausted you didn’t even feel self-conscious about looking the way you did. Although you hoped your eyes had recovered from the redness, at least a little. “Hi,” you greeted him back.

“Look, I really don’t want to be intrusive. And if you want me to leave, I will,” he said. He fumbled with his hands, as if he was nervous about his words. “But I kind of heard you…cry…in the shower. And I know you live alone, and I figured if you’re crying you probably don’t have any company. I guess I just wanted to check whether you’re okay. Do you have someone to talk to?”

With every word your heart only sped up. You felt like a trapped rabbit in a corner and the meaning of his message only sunk in slowly. Yes, of course. I’ll call my friend and talk to them,you wanted to say. But that would have been a massive lie. And you just couldn’t lie to him. Not when he stood there, in his fuzzy sweater and fresh-out-the-shower damp hair, with eyes so worried and attentive. You weren’t sure if it was from how touched you were by his concern for you, or if it was your sadness catching up to you again. Before you could swallow your tears, your eyes filled to the brim and your vision turned blurry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, not sure what for. Hurriedly, you used your sweater paw to wipe your leaking eyes. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but now you had achieved just that and more. Your embarrassment set in and you finally came out with the truth. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s alright. We all have those days, don’t we? I just want you to know that you’re not alone. And I have nothing to do…so if you need someone to talk to, or even just to keep you company…I can stay with you for a bit…or you can come over to mine. I just don’t want you to feel alone. But if you would prefer to be by yourself, that’s okay. People deal with things differently.”

You were so baffled that your ability to speak completely fell through. The idea of someone, an almost-stranger, going so out of their way to make sure you were okay blew you away. He knew nothing about you. But here he was, taking a chance on you, nonetheless. Only then you realized you probably looked like a fool, staring at him but failing to answer. Quickly, you prompted yourself to open your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked. “Any plans for the evening?”

“I was going to watch a movie, I guess,” you said. “And I think some company would be very nice.”

He smiled at you like was your childhood best friend and you had just reconnected after years of being apart. That’s why it felt the more natural to let him enter your apartment. You got into small talk about what it was like living in the building and how his apartment had a mirrored structure to yours. The simplest conversation took your mind off your sorrow right away. You felt like thanking him would be a little dramatic after he had barely settled on your sofa, so you kept it to yourself. Either way, the small smile on your face felt like warm, soothing sunlight on your skin after eight consecutive days of rain.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked. You thought for a moment.

“No, I think I’d rather just distract myself,” you said. Even though you were grateful for having him here, you feared if you spilled your guts to him you would only scare him away.

“Alright,” he said without judgement. “What film were you planning on watching?”

And so you started your movie. There was a respectful distance between you on the sofa. But his simple presence next to you was more than you could have asked for tonight. He was like a heater, providing safety and comfort in the coldest winter. Hearing someone else chuckle at the jokes in the movie along with you was magnificent. His laughter sounded like a rainbow. It seeped into your body and your soul straightened up and bloomed like a parched flower being watered after all this loneliness.

But even under all the light, your problems were still here, waiting to nag at you. You knew they would consume you when he returned to his own apartment later. They would laugh at you for trying to socialize but staying closed off as always. Just because someone saw you didn’t mean they understood you and who you are. And how was one supposed to make human connections if they treated their thoughts like strictly confidential information in front of everybody? No, you had to tell him.Impulsively, you pressed the stop-button on the remote. He shot you a questioning gaze.

“I- I think maybe I do want to talk about something,” you confessed.

“You can tell me anything. I promise it’ll be safe with me. Let out whatever bothers you,” he said. His lovely, warm eyes were inviting like a haven for you. So you just started to talk. All your frustrations and reasons for anxiety were exiting your lips, floating all around you in the room. Airing out your weary brain finally, after holding everything in for weeks, was uncaging and nothing had felt this good in so long. Although your sadness wasn’t something that could be fixed by doing a task, the more thoughts and worries you explained to him, the easier it became. It wasn’t long before you felt your tears well up once more.

“It’s okay,” he said with his hand on your shoulder. This time, you didn’t try so hard to blink them away. Where there were emotions, there were tears, and he was right. It was fine to let them out. Through sniffles you finished telling him your issues.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gently putting his arm around your shoulder to hold your shaking figure. You hummed and nodded in agreement. His warmth was like a blanket to shelter you from the anxiety, if even just for a short while.

“I don’t expect you to know a solution,” you said. “I need to wait for it to get better. It’ll get better, eventually.”

“You’re right. It will all resolve,” he said. “I’m sorry things are so difficult. But you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Time will heal, I promise,” he said. “And until then, you have to hold on and keep going. The world’s a little cruel sometimes, when it shuts out the ones who struggle and don’t do as well as others. But you’re as much of a part of it as any other human on the street. And you’re just as important as them. You weren’t born to be successful or to achieve things. You’re here to live and be happy. So promise me to take care of yourself, and be gentle to yourself. Because you’re the only person that will be with yourself every second until the end. Please don’t be hard on yourself and have patience for good things to come around. And if it all feels like it’s too much for you, don’t feel guilty about reaching out for help. You can always ring my doorbell if you need something.”

“Thank you so much,” you cried. Your cheek rested on his shoulder and you sat in silence for a while. It was unbelievable which wonders such a small conversation between two people could do. Your heart felt lighter and the thoughts were no longer racing through your head. Peace was settling in, and you welcomed it more than ever.

“Now that I’ve told you about me, what kind of person are you?” you asked through tears. He chuckled a little. All you knew until now was that he had a heart of gold. Which, to be fair, meant your impression of him was off to a pretty good start already. Your thoughts were cautious as you wondered…Maybe he could be my friend.

You abandoned the movie. Instead, you spent all evening chatting about whatever came to your mind. You discussed childhood dreams, favorite dishes, your best playlists down to the cutes dog breeds you had ever seen. It felt great, getting to know somebody. And your suspicions came true. His big heart wasn’t the only thing admirable about him. He was funny and knew just what to say when you felt awkward or shy. When you slipped into bed that night, you did so with a smile on your face. You had always told yourself that you weren’t alone. But sometimes, the most optimistic person needed a small reminder coming from somebody else. Here was yours.

[lunar-wandering]

Medicine

so, earlier today, I got hit by the thought that, the reason why Wukong is so much... calmer in LMK compared to JTTW is because he’s taking adhd/anxiety meds now. and so, I decided to spend an hour or 2 of my time to write this.

...really this is just me projecting, and i have no other excuses.

Word Count: 1.1k

read on Ao3

---

MK was staying the night at Flower Fruit Mountain, per Wukong's insistence. They had both gotten a little bit distracted during training, and time had flown by far faster than either of them had thought it would. It was already dark outside when they realized what time it was. Not exactly feeling like flying MK back into town, and not really trusting that MK could use the staff to vault back in the dark, Wukong proceeded to call for a sleepover.

Which was how they ended up standing in Wukong's tiny bedroom, with him rummaging around in his drawer.

"I could've sworn I had some pyjamas around your size in here somewhere." Wukong muttered, tail swishing.

"It's fine Monkey King, I can just sleep in my clothes-" MK started to say, but was interrupted as Wukong "aha'd" in triumph, pulling out a set of golden coloured pyjama's with a peach design on them.

"Here you go kid." Wukong said, placing them in MK's hands. MK was surprised to find the fabric was....really soft. Genuinely, this might be the softest fabric he'd ever touched. Without any further protest, MK went into the bathroom to get changed. When he came back out, Wukong was in a matching pair of pyjama's except his were pink.

"Monkey King, I'm gonna be honest, I'm pretty sure these are the most comfortable pyjama's I've ever worn." MK said, "....You might not get this back."

"That's fine kid, you can keep it." Wukong said, waving his hand dismissively. "I can always ma-buy another set whenever I want."

MK paused, catching his mentor's near slip.

"....This wasn't just made by you blowing on a piece of your hair right?"

"Excuse you, I put actual work into making that, and I will not accept that kind of slander." Wukong said, "I don't always take the easy way out you know?"

"Mhm, sure."

".....So! How about we watch a movie!" Wukong said, purposefully changing the subject as he led MK into the living room. "I've got unlimited access to about....pretty much every film that ever existed, so we can watch whatever you want!"

"...Can we watch the Monkey King: Animated Series?" MK asked.

"Kid, who do you think I am? Of course we can watch Monkey King: the Animated Series!" Wukong said, picking up MK with his tail and setting him down on the couch as he grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table, turning on the television to show that he had already had the Monkey King: Animated Series queued up. Selecting episode one, he pressed play.

----

2 hours and multiple peach flavored snacks later, (seriously, there were a lot of peach flavored snacks. MK was going to have to start bringing his own, normal snacks at this rate, because while he like peaches, there is a limit to how much peach flavored food one can eat), and MK was fully ready to just fall asleep where he was sitting. He yawned, tired.

Wukong paused the show.

"Time for bed then, huh?" He asked. MK nodded, drowsily rubbing at his eye.

"...Don't you feel tired too, Monkey King?" He asked. Wukong shook his head.

"No, I don't exactly...get tired normally, I guess. I mainly sleep to pass the time and because it keeps the monkey's happy." He said, standing up, and walking over to the closet, pulling out some blankets and pillows. "If you stand up, the couch folds out into a bed. You know how to set that kinda thing up right?"

MK hummed an affirmative, standing up and pulling the cushions off the couch in order to start the process of turning it into a bed. As he did so, he happened to notice that one of the monkeys was digging through his bag, looking for something. MK momentarily contemplated stopping it and making sure the monkey didn't steal anything, but then thought better of it, deciding that that was something that could wait till morning.

MK set up the bed-couch, running his hands down the sheets that were on it once he pulled it out, checking the bed for anything as a habit. He found a spider in his bed once, and now he couldn't go to sleep unless he'd checked the bed for spiders and bugs beforehand.

He was about to just crawl on the bed and curl up to wait for Wukong to throw the blankets over top of him, when he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder.

He stumbled a little under the sudden weight, but quickly recovered. He turned his head to the side to see the same monkey that had been digging through his bag, holding a small pill bottle.

Oh right, he'd almost forgotten to take his medicine.

Politely, he thanked the monkey, gently taking the pill bottle out of its hands and twisting it open. The monkey, seemingly satisfied in that he was taking his medicine, jumped off his shoulder and ran away. MK watched the monkey as it ran and jumped onto Wukong-

Who was covered with other monkeys. Somehow, while setting up the bed, MK had failed to notice as the other monkeys had basically swarmed Wukong. He was standing still, still holding the blankets and pillows, as the monkeys tugged on his ears and fur.

"Okay, okay, I get it, fine." Wukong said, "Geez."

"Uh," MK said, frozen, pill halfway to his mouth. "What the fuck is happening?"

"Language." Wukong quietly admonished, before sighing. "This happens every night. They're reminding me to take my meds. Speaking of which, hurry up and swallow that pill before you drop it."

MK hurriedly followed through on that, taking his pill with bottle of peach juice that he had left on the coffee table earlier. While he did this, another monkey came in, holding a pill bottle that was rather similar to MK's, and forcibly putting it into Wukong's hands.

"So." MK said, "You uh. You take medicine too?"

"Yeah.....I hate taking it though. I can swallow a pill but that doesn't mean I like doing it." Wukong said, untwisting the cap of the bottle, and dry swallowing the pill. "Tried using the liquid version once, but it tasted gods-awful, so I don't plan on doing that again."

Seemingly satisfied that Wukong had taken his medicine, the monkeys finally got off of him, spreading to curl up in different places around the room. MK, figuring that the monkeys had the right idea, climbed onto his bed for the night, laying down on his side. Wukong dropped a few blankets on top of him, and then proceeded to flop onto the bed himself, curling up beside him.

-----

The next morning, when MK was late to work, his only excuse was that Wukong really didn't like alarm clocks.

(Wukong promised to pay to get MK a new phone, but the damage had been done.)

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x f!reader x oc)

ii. ukiyo.

— living in the moment, detached from the bothers of life.

rating: mature for mentions of graphic violence and gore.

warnings: mentions of violence, gore, murder.

THE COLLEGE WAS not what you recalled it being. While the campus was still remotely similar, picking at familiar memories that you could only faintly recall from your childhood years, it was virtually empty besides a few staff members milling about. There were several sorcerers who appeared to be low class and unable to even be ranked properly. Ama-no-Kagaseo revealed to you as much with what little of his power you had access to. You weren’t totally oblivious to the dwindling number of sorcerers in the world, but you hadn’t exactly been kept in the loop at just how few of them there actually were.

“There are so few of you left here,” you noted quietly to Sayaka. She walked beside you at a leisurely pace, toting your bag for you—that had been a hard one to talk Ama-no-Kagaseo into solely because his cursed jewelry was in it—and allowing you to take in your first taste of freedom in over ten years. “Is the Kyoto campus any different?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Sayaka’s green eyes glinted in the sunlight, so different from when she was indoors under artificial lighting. She looked almost ethereal this way. “But it’s been a long time coming, so to speak. Irony has a weird way of intertwining with fate.”

You didn’t understand what exactly she was getting at, but nodded along as if you did and turned your attention to the male walking slightly behind you to your right. Inumaki Toge. His Curse ability obviously hinted at something verbally restrictive; Ama-no-Kagaseo wouldn’t give you much more than he wasn’t very fond of the ability in general. You were relying on context clues and looking too hard into things that might not be there, but it was the only choice you had—no one was volunteering any information to you, so you had to figure it out yourself.

“Who is that?” you inquired, eyes catching on a head of dusty pale pink hair in the distance. He was speaking with Gojo animatedly and appeared to be asking questions, as if he was as new to the experience as you were, and even wore a uniform with a customized hood. He and Gojo were the only ones you had seen so far, at least around the campus; everyone else either seemed to be hiding or doing something entirely away from socialization.

Sayaka appeared almost nervous to tell you. She looked at you from the corner of her eyes, specifically at Ama-no-Kagaseo’s dormant body in your arms, and then away, back towards the boy and Gojo. “That’s Sukuna’s vessel.”

You realized your mistake almost immediately. Ama-no-Kagaseo’s Curse energy, which usually enveloped you like a snug, warm blanket, grew frigid and cold and withdrew inside you. It felt like an ice pick to the chest, chilling you inside out, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to take over. A quick brush of wind over your hair set you straight: he would not compromise your newfound freedom over Ryoumen Sukuna just yet. You weren’t sure what to feel about that—the eventuality that he would, someday, ruin your peace just for a shot at another Curse. And though the energy of Sukuna’s vessel made him furious, he did not allow it to creep into you and inadvertently flood your system with his power. There was only so much your human body could take before you became something more. 

“Shiraishi-san?” Sayaka called to you, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. She had felt the sudden vanishing of Ama-no-Kagaseo’s curse energy like the absence of the sun in winter. To have such suffocating power blink out of existence within a second had given her whiplash, dizzying her before she realized what it had been. “Are you still present?”

You had the idea to scare her and act like Ama-no-Kagaseo. But that was unnecessarily cruel and not becoming of a Shiraishi vessel. Ama-no-Kagaseo may encourage your antics in private, but your life was on the line for every social faux pas and mistake you made. You couldn’t afford to play like that.

“I’m here,” you said, reassuring her with a small but strained smile. “Sukuna’s vessel, you said? What is his name?”

Like with all things, Sayaka did not want to tell you. You could see it in her face. But with Gojou dragging him over to introduce the three of you, Inumaki Toge somehow having vanished in the brief moments you had been absorbed into your thoughts, it was inevitable you would find out. She just had the choice to tell you outright or prove she was as untrustworthy as Ama-no-Kagaseo thought she was. And it would hurt to know that your Curse was right.

She sighed. “His name is Itadori Yuuji. He’s stubborn and bullheaded, but he has a good heart.”

None of that meant anything to you. Words were just words and you didn’t trust words. You trusted actions. And with Ryoumen Sukuna, Ama-no-Kagaseo didn’t trust a word or action from him. You would have to do the same—but what about Itadori Yuuji? The human boy? You would have to wait and see.

“Sayaka-chan, Shiraishi-san!” Gojou’s unusual politeness with the use of your name made Itadori’s eyebrows raise slightly. His white hair seemed perpetually frozen as he cocked his head back to regard you with covered eyes. “So, how is freedom treating you, Shiraishi-san?”

“It’s been well.” Your eyes drifted to Itadori Yuuji for a moment, lingering on the lines underneath his eyes, and then back to Gojou. “For now. I plan for it to be quiet a little longer before I disrupt it with chaos.”

Sayaka stiffened beside you. You almost hadn’t noticed it, the way Ama-no-Kagaseo’s words slipped into your mouth, the easy way you said it almost shocking to you. You didn’t allow your face to show it, but your mind was conflicted.

“I see.” Gojou hummed. You could at least trust him not to go to the higher ups; his hatred had at least one good outcome to it. You wondered how easily he would allow Ama-no-Kagaseo to murder all of them in cold blood. “Well, chaos aside, this is Itadori Yuuji! Itadori-san, meet Fujiwara, Sayaka—she’s a real bitch, so don’t go messing with her—and Shiraishi, [Name], the magnificent and glorious vessel of Ama-no-Kagaseo.”

“Gojou,” Sayaka growled in warning, but it was too late.

Faster than you could blink, a sharp line cut a path over the sorcerer’s cheek, right through his Infinity. Blood streaked down his jaw in a crimson river and you idly watched a droplet fall to the ground and seep between the cracks in the stone.

“Testy, isn’t he?” Gojou wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his uniform. His jolly mood seemed to have faded and now he felt grim, speculative, eyeing you even behind the blindfold. “His temper sure has gotten shorter.”

“I apologize,” you began softly,”for—”

“Eh, it’s fine,” the sorcerer waved his hand dismissively. Your mouth pulled into a displeased line at the dismissal and for that he earned another cut to his knuckles, splitting them open to expose bone. “Ah, well, maybe not.”

Sayaka said nothing through the whole interaction. It wasn’t as if she could do anything to stop him. While the higher ups lauded her as the best executioner among the sorcerers, she was nothing in the face of Ama-no-Kagaseo and she knew it. One wrong move would have her beheaded, or worse, disemboweled, both tame options compared to what the Curse actually wanted to do to her, which you tried not to think about.

Itadori Yuuji was quiet as well, but for different reasons. He was staring at you in awe and surprise, with Sukuna painfully oblivious to how close his mortal enemy was standing to him. If Ama-no-Kagaseo didn’t want him to know he was there, then he wouldn’t know until he wanted him to. But by verbatim, he would figure it out eventually the next time he took over Yuuji, or even probed through his memories a bit.

“Let’s go, Yuuji,” Gojou said, finally, and with a renewed air, dragged him away towards the practice grounds.

You didn’t look back. Ama-no-Kagaseo did.

                                     < back | masterlist | next >

                                     taglist: @picturethosesmiles​ (lmk if you want to be added.) 

[criminally--reid]

library lovers

I h8 the title- n e ways... here's the fix that's been promised to be posted at least twice a week for the past month 😌✋🏽also if u want untagged yk who u are smsbsj lmk,, i just thought id use the anon tag so u could see it snsbsj n e ways let's get on wiv d shit show

warnings: awkward chaotic gay, general smutty stuff y'know, mutual masturbation, i’ve never written mxm fic before so yonkers :| 

word count: 2.6k

Pairing: bi!spencer x (dom-ish)male!reader 

//a.n.\\ somehow the reader ends up in charge and i kinda like it tbh. i'm shit at storylines,  but honestly,, highschool homophobe masturbating with spencer reid? Call that character development 

`°•○●○•°`

You hadn't seen Spencer in years. Remembering the terms the two of you ended on, you weren't surprised either. All throughout highschool, you were the movie-esque tormentors of the frail, nerdy kid. The bully that wasn't actually supposed to exist. The absolute nightmare that had kids like Spencer trembling, dreading to relive the same terror another day. 

Shock couldn't even begin to cover what you felt the day you watched him walk into the library you now owned. You had been working on forgetting him since graduation. Just when you thought the remnants of Spencer had dripped entirely from your memory, everything came flooding in the matter of milliseconds the moment he walked through your door. All the times you watched him eat alone, pick his things up alone after someone had thrown them out of his hands; all the times you could've stepped up and just chose not to. You promised yourself you'd be different. Now was your chance. 

You subtly watch Spencer as he looks through the many isles of books. Beginning at young adult, trailing quickly to non-fiction, and eventually ending up in the classic section. He doesn't spend much time amongst the books - 5 minutes at the most since he walked in - before bringing a stack of 6 books up to the counter; you anxiously waiting to scan him in. 

"Did- did you find all your books alright?" You manage to ask. Spencer merely nods his head, crossing his arms and bringing one of his hands up to his mouth, chewing on his fingernails. His brows furrow and you're worried he's about to say something. 

"I'm a little surprised to see you working here actually." This throws you off. You did not plan for this- this confrontation. 

"I take it you remember me?" 

"I'm not really one to forget things, you know." Fair enough. 

"Well, yes. I actually run the place now. My grandfather had passed it on to me." 

"Oh he's…? I'm so sorry for your loss." 

Spencer's look of sincerity throws you off. After all the years of you being his worst fear, he still had room in his heart to be genuinely kind towards you. 

"It's fine, really. It was so long ago now. And besides- now I have this grand, ancient bookstore." You end with a chuckle and finish scanning the barcodes in each of his books. 

"Thank you- uh actually, could you help me find something else?"

"Of course! What're you looking for?" 

"Everyone keeps recommending me Donna Tart, where could I find some of her work?" 

"Follow me," you gesture and move from behind the counter. 

You walk him over to the very back of the store where all the dark academia-esq books are. While sifting through the books, he asks you a question that catches you completely off guard; his voice nothing above a whisper. 

"And I take it that you don't still hate me-" 

You immediately know what he's talking about. How silly of you to think the past wouldn’t be brought up.  

You clear your throat before speaking up. "I- n-no of course not. I- I uh- I know this is extremely cliche, and I'm not trying to excuse away any of the horrible things I did to you but- I was hiding." 

"From what?" Spencer chimes in quietly. 

"I just didn't know how to feel about myself. Gay this and gay that- it was all so negative. I didn't want to be known for something that was apparently so wrong. I definitely couldn't let the football playing circle jerkers I called my friends know about how I felt towards other guys. An-and I saw how they treated people like you and I didn't want that, so I joined them." 

"So you're gay?" Spencer asks, and you nod slowly. "And you and your 'circle jerking buddies' tortured me because you all thought I was gay?" 

"Well- I- we uh- that's what they said. I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't do anything because of what I was. I know the word 'sorry' will never make up for anything I've ever done or said to you, but I am so so sorry, Spencer." 

"You guys just knew I was gay? -Gaydar that strong, huh?" Spencer ends in a chuckle, easing up your tension, allowing you to slip out a soft laugh, too. 

"Obviously, it wasn't too good. I somehow managed to skate by for four years." 

"That you did." For the first time in years, when you look at Spencer, he doesn't look upset. A content, lazy smile accompanies his happy eyes as he. "Well- actually, I'm not entirely gay so I guess their gaydar needed some tweeking, hm?" 

"Oh, you're-" you attempt, but get cut-off. 

"Bi? Yeah. I realized I was bi when I realized I had a crush on you and your tenth grade girlfriend. What about you?" 

Still skimming the pages of a Donna Tart book, never looking up from it. So nonchalant. Him being so upfront with you was honestly exciting. You never imagined that you'd be remotely friendly with Spencer Reid, let alone him revealing he had a crush on you. "Ah, about junior year, I figured out I kinda had a thing for you." 

"Say, uh," Spencer started, tucking his hair behind his ear and slipping the book back onto the shelf. "I liked you; you liked me. Why don't we hang out sometime or something-" 

You could tell Spencer was trying hard to mask his enthusiasm. You were too. 

"Erm- yeah totally! I get off in about an hour actually; I could call you, and we could grab coffee or something." 

"Sounds great," Spencer says hurriedly as he fishes around in his pocket, drawing out a small slip of paper and drawing the pen from his shirt pocket. He hands you the freshly used paper with his number inscribed on it in smudged black ink. 

The next hour, excitement coursed through you. You're bustling around, fidgeting, unshelving and re-shelving books, sweeping, mopping - anything to keep your mind off of the end of your shift. The busiest yet slowest hour of your life. Your shift ends and your excitement reaches its peak. Your finger hovers over the call button at the bottom of your screen, hesitating. For a split second you get the courage to press call, but then you immediately regret it - that is until his hurried, excited voice slips through the speaker. 

"Hey, y/n! It's Spencer! Uh- you know.. that.. of course. Anyways, uh there's this coffee shop about a block away from my place. I wondered if maybe you'd wanna go and have an early dinner or something." 

You can't help but chuckle at his excitement; trying to calm down your own. "That sounds great, Spencer. What's the place?" 

"Café Negra-" 

"What?!" you cut him off "I go there all the time! How have I never seen you?" 

"What? That's insane. How have we not crossed each other there?" 

"No clue.. Anyways I'll meet you there- uh about 20?" 

"Perfect." Spencer hangs up without any formal goodbyes, but you couldn't care less - you couldn't wait to meet him at the coffee shop. 

The date - which neither of you bothered to assign that title to the event, but you both knew it was, in fact, a date - went impressively well. It's like you two had never been enemies in the first place. Those four years in high school wiped clean of any hard feelings as the two of you drank coffee way too strong for 6p.m., ate double chocolate muffins, and laughed away. 

When it comes time to leave, Spencer stands up first, throwing away his cup and muffin wrapper; you follow quickly and do the same. 

A mutual agreement was somehow made to take it back to Spencer's place. Maybe it was the lack of goodbyes that he seemed prone to. Whatever it was, the evening didn't feel finished. 

Once inside his cozy apartment, he welcomes you to his couch before maneuvering to the tv stand, kneeling down and pulling out three movies. He gestures for you to choose one, and you choose Titanic. Not the greatest choice of the three, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be focused on the movie too much anyways. 

He puts the disc into the player before joining you on the couch. About twenty minutes into the movie, he moves closer to you, resting his shoulder slowly, cautiously as if asking permission. You ease his nerves by welcoming his head on your shoulder and leaning against him in return. The next half an hour is full of stolen glances, light touches, and snuggling. All innocent until Spencer slides his hand up your thigh. You try not to mind it much. Maybe he's just absentminded in all the contact. He doesn't know what he's doing. You try to focus on the movie and not on his hand getting ever so dangerously close until you just can't anymore. Looking down at him, he's already making eye contact with you, driving you wild. Instinctually you connect your lips with his. 

Spencer shuffles over and straddles your lap, never disconnecting your lips. Your hands roam around his shoulders and back before dipping underneath the hem of his shirt and pulling it off. He makes quick work of returning the favor. After a few more chaste kisses, he stands up, pulling you up with him, and pushes his pants to the floor with you following suit. Spencer places his fingers under your chin, bringing your face up to his in an attempt to place another open-mouthed kiss on your bite-swollen lips. However, you muster up a burst of courage and manage to flip the script. Placing your fingers on Spencer’s chest and holding him at arm's length, you keep eye contact while you take a seat on one end of the couch. You motion for him to take his seat at the other end. 

Spencer, still unsure of the current situation, watches you move. He watches as you run your fingertips up and down your thighs. As you wet the palm of your hand with your tongue before running it up and down your shaft. Lightly tracing your fingertips over your reddened head, hissing at the contact. 

“Your turn,” you say barely above a whisper. 

Spencer’s eyes go wide, but he still obliges, wetting his hand and repeating your actions on himself. Hissing and cursing at the contact with his eager cock. He soon gets lost in his own world of pleasure. Moving faster and moaning barely-there profanities. Watching the show, you bring your hand back to yourself. Your eyes shut as you listen to Spencer; his pretty gasps like music to your ears. 

“Y-y/n? I’m- I’m close.” 

“Awh, so soon? You sure you can’t hold on for me just a little longer?” 

Spencer lets out a strangled moan and forces himself to slow his pace. Watching him struggle to contain himself turns you on even more. His desperate whines and pleas for release getting you closer to the edge. “Look at me, bubbas,” you coax. 

Spencer looks up at you, pushing a tuft of hair from his eyes. His other hand still desperately attached to the base of his cock, awaiting further instruction. 

“Listen.. We’re gonna cum together okay?” Spencer only manages a nod in response so you continue. “I want you to move faster again; get closer. But I want you to let me know when you’re about to cum, okay?” 

You’re met with a furious nod for an answer as he works at his waist, bringing himself closer to his climax; you simultaneously doing the same.

“F-fuck fuckfuckfuck! -M gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming!” Spencer's cries of pleasure send you over the edge and you both spill over together. Your head dips back over the armrest of the couch as you try to catch your breath. You bring your head back up and look at Spencer, only to see him leaning sideways against the back of the couch, still out of breath and coates in a layer of sweat. 

“Why don’t we go get cleaned up, hm?” 

Spencer nods his head in agreement before getting up off the couch and leading you to the bathroom. You definitely aren’t going home tonight.  

[ughyoongis]

In The Midst Of Chaos

[ chapter 03 ] a prince!calum fic

A/N: i’m sooo happy you guys are enjoying this fic as much as I am! lmk what yall think of this update too! 

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mild language, minor mentions of war/violence

previous chapter

"Hey." Alice enters her study with an empty basket, ready to collect tonics for the maids this week. A skip to her step now that today is gloriously sunny and bright. The birds are chirping and she has a fresh bouquet in her vase from the flowers her mum grew at home.

Luke lies on his cot, which should be for patients, but isn't as of right now. He's holding her sketchbook in one hand as he flips through it.

"You draw the prince a lot." He states, at the same time she feels a dip in her gut, anchoring through the floor.

"I-" She can't explain this one, not when he's so clearly not going to buy her bullshit. She draws Calum all the time, not like he's the only thing in that book, but he's in every few pages.

"You may be the one girl in the kingdom who finds him even remotely charming." Luke teases, he's not the kind to blackmail her with this stuff, they're pretty close since they spend every day together here. He merely opens up to one she had scribbled in last week, of Calum in the library, book open in his hands as he reads intently. She had hung out with him (yet again) in the comfort of their downtime.

"He's nice." She says, at the same time Luke sputters out a laugh. Her face morphs into a frown. "He is, okay?"

The blue eyed boy merely hums and keeps flipping through, "I'm sure he is." Sarcasm. She rolls her eyes.

"Give it back, Luke." Her hand reaches for it at the same time he gasps at a page. Turning it over so she can see what's so surprising.

"You drew him smiling?" He yells way too loud for her liking, her hands grab the sketchbook once and for all and clutches it at her side.

"Will you be quiet?" She hisses, "He smiles around me, so what?"

"I don't think he's smiled since he was a kid, that's what." Luke whispers back, "He's got to be in love with you if he's smiled at you."

"Shut up." She throws her book back into the drawer she keeps it in, locking it this time for good measure. Alice doesn't want to put silly thoughts like that into her mind.

"We're friends, Luke. I don't treat him like shit and that's why he and I get along. You should try it." Her fake grin doesn't go unnoticed as the blonde across the room merely smirks.

"I can't believe you've seen it."

"Seen what?"

"Him smiling."

She nearly jumps out of her skin when a knock muffles from the hallway, her eyes send a warning glare Luke's way, making sure he understands to not say anything as she makes her way to the door. He shuffles his way off his cot and back to his desk and pretends to find his medicines interesting.

Penelope stands with her hands nervously clasped together.

"Alice," She grins, happy she answered the door. "The prince needs you upstairs. Do you know where to go?" Her eyes scan over her body language to try and read her.

"Not really." She hates lying, and the fact Calum did it so easily when stating she's his personal nurse made her want to scream. And she's not going to add onto that already unfair lie.

"Okay, so, instead of going towards the maids quarters, you'll turn right at the top of the stairs instead. Turn at the first hallway you see and it's the last set of doors all the way at the back. Not hard to miss, dear." Penelope gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "It's his mother."

The queen. Alice's heart races in her chest, the sound feels loud enough to bring the walls to the ground. She's never met her, and she never speaks to the public anymore, but when she used to, she was so kind. So considerate. She had come from a neighboring kingdom, born in the lower class and made her way up to her kingdom's castle as a duchess. When the king had visited, at the time a new prince, he had been given four women to choose from. He ignored them all and chose her.

"You'll do great." Penelope senses her worries. "She's a sweetheart, truly."

The young girl gives a soft nod and grabs her regular supplies and heads on up. She has no idea what any of this has in store. So she settles for her simplest kit and ambles her way up the stairs and down each corridor with less excitement in each step as she goes.

The problem is, there's rumors throughout the castle, towards what's exactly wrong with Calum's mother. Some say she's just stowed away so her husband can rule the nation without her much more civil, pure nature to step in and change what he's doing. Other's say she only has a few months left before she's gone from a chronic illness.

And Calum won't tell her anything.

It's not like she asks, though. His private life is none of her business.

By the time the doors are presented in front of her she feels everything inside of her drain from her face, she can hear them talking, faintly, but she recognizes Calum's voice and it's... different.

Her clammy hand reaches up and knocks.

He stops speaking and soon the door opens to see him in much simpler clothing than usual, his hair isn't styled, and to her very awestruck surprise, he has no crown on his head. If anything, he looks oddly normal.

"Hi." He speaks, a soft smile on his face, he looks calm, and happy. Almost relieved that she showed up. It makes her feel a little bit better about the situation.

"Good morning." She smiles back, happy to see him happy. That's a good sign.

"Mother, Alice is here." He let's her into the room, which is far more extravagant than anything she's seen so far. The bed, especially. A canopy style with silky drapes and covers, finely embroidered patterns on the pillows. And the queen lies there, bedridden, her body underneath all the luxurious covers. Her crown sits on the nightstand beside her, along with a few candles she has spread throughout the room.

"It's lovely to meet you." The queen, herself, speaks, voice gentle as she manages to lift her hand out for Alice to take. She gladly does so, curtseying in the process.

"And you as well, your majesty." She smiles. Penelope wasn't lying, she really is nice. Genuinely, too.

"My son tells me you're his best friend." The queen says, her hand squeezes Alice's, weakly, but it's there. "I wanted to meet you."

At those words she whips her head around to look at the maori boy stood in the corner of the room, awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He gives her a shy grin, and she looks a little closer, and he's blushing. The prince. Blushing. She feels proud of this accomplishment of sorts.

"Oh?" Is all she can say.

"You're a nurse here, yes?"

"Just started a month ago." She answers, her blonde hair in it's braid swings as she faces the woman with a grin.

"He's quite fond of you, I can tell. He talks about you nonstop. You two are close, from what I've heard, he's always running off to meet with you." She's so knowingly embarrassing her son, and he turns as red as can be in the corner of the room, his hands fiddle with a tea kettle as he fixes up a drink in a delicate teacup.

The queen makes sure she keeps eye contact with Alice when they speak, and she listens to her with such attentiveness it's welcoming and warm.

"I had no idea." She gives a sheepish grin that grows when she hears Calum speak.

"She's over-exaggerating." He blushes despite his words. His hands carry a teacup over to his mother, helping her sit up before he let's her take it from him and sip from it every now and then.

"I'm sure Penelope would say the same things about me." Alice makes sure to not let Calum feel so ashamed for being excited to see her. "She's starting to get very suspicious about my many visits to the library."

"And the gardens, I hear." The queen slips her way into the conversation again with a knowing grin on his lips, she looks tired, but still happy. "Cal, dear, grab me something from the kitchen, maybe a biscuit or two."

Cal. The nickname brings a smile to Alice's face, and the maori prince shuffles out of the room with her request in mind.

The door shuts and the queen places a hand on top of hers, "My son is very kind, I'm sure you know that, right, dear?"

She nods. It pains her not to tell the truth. Kind, to her, surely. To others? Debatable.

"God, I love him, he's the one person who can get me to laugh these days, has such a lovely personality, never fails to make me smile." She seems so reminiscent, her eyes well a little bit, "He seems happier than usual, I think it's because of you."

Alice feels her heart skip a selfish beat as that goes straight to her head, she's making the prince happy? In what world does a happy Calum truly exist? Luke would laugh in her face, anyone would. But the queen merely pats the top of her hand.

"He wants you to attend his birthday gala." The queen whispers, like he'll hear her despite the distance. "I will do whatever it takes to get you to go. He'd have such a wonderful time if he saw you were there. You see, Calum's not one for festivities. He's declined the idea of a birthday gala for the past five years, but now all of a sudden he decided he wants one and he's so excited. You must go."

Alice is speechless, her eyes wide, lips parting to try and think of how to articulate just how confusing this all is.

He hasn't thrown a gala for himself in years, it's always been the usual balls: Christmas, New Year's, and the anniversary of the king and queen. But he wants one now? With only a week in advance?

"You're a beautiful girl, he seems very smitten with you, do this for me, will you? Make my boy happy for the night?" She's squeezing her hand again and it has Alice caving.

"Okay." She whispers. She has no idea how to pull this off. Let alone how Calum could possibly find her in the midst of the thousands of people who flood into the castle to attend a glorious ball. What will she wear?

"Lovely." The queen smiles, genuinely. "Don't tell him I made you go. He'll get embarrassed again."

She remembers the way his face went vermillion from his repetitive blushing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the way he smiled when he saw her at the doorway. Her stomach somersaults in her chest. She can't wait a week all of a sudden.

"He hasn't had a friend in years." The queen reveals with a sad smile, "Thank you, Alice, my boy is back now."

-

The next few days pass by in a whimsical whir of medicine and ice packs, her hands busy themselves at home by baking and cooking for her family whenever she gets the chance. Waves of energy keep her bouncing up and on the go in the morning only to sigh and fall into bed that night, her sketchbook tucked under her pillow.

Calum stays up restlessly those nights, pacing his room in agony as he stares at the letter on his desk. Tears it up. Rewrites it. Only to tear it up again. He's a perfectionist, always has been, and the words that he wants to say aren't exactly there yet. He can't articulate his point, can't sway his perspective enough to even fathom the idea of sending the letter out. He gets a total of eight hours of sleep over the course of three nights.

Alice notices on the fourth morning. When she enters the library with a book in her hand, and Calum sits, hunched over on the desk, pen in hand as he tries to complete his work for his tutor to revise and grade. He hates having homework, hates the fact a guy his age is judging his opinion on books he doesn't care about that revolve around law and war.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but you look dead, Calum." She slips herself into the chair beside him, scooting closer so she can see what he's trying to right about, something about the strategies of winning allies and gaining mutuality in nations. Fancy political garbage that she couldn't care less about.

He huffs weakly and let's his head fall down to rest on the desk, arms folded to block out any light that may shine in his face.

"M'tired." He states, clearly.

"Then rest." She lifts his pen out of his hand and moves his work away from him. "I'll keep watch, no one will bother you."

He wants to say thank you, but his lips don't open fast enough before he feels a hand find his head. The crown on top gets lifted off and he's jolting up, alarmed, only to see Alice place it delicately on the desk beside him.

"I, um," He can't bring himself to say it. Now's not the right time. He shakes his head. When will it be the right time? "I want you to go to the gala, this week."

He doesn't hear her response, and can't bring himself to look at her just yet, not as he feels his face burning with embarrassment. He knew he should've never asked. It's a silly thing to ask for.

"It's for my, uh, my twenty second birthday." He can't go back, so his brain forces him to ramble. "There's a chance I won't be able to dance with you, but I-I..." He cringes, "I would like it if you danced with me."

Alice's heart thumps so wildly in her chest she's afraid he might be able to hear it. A dance? With the prince? That's usually for those waiting in line of the throne, or possible future princesses he may marry. There's no way he means a dance as in a way to tell those at the gala he finds an interest in her? Does he?

"I just-" He sighs, "I'm not a fan of big social gatherings but I think if you're there I'll feel a bit better. You're my closest friend."

Friend. Her smile falters, and she bites down on her tongue. Of course.

"I'll go." She whispers, despite the sadness clawing it's way up her throat. She can't let him hear the distress in her tone, how disappointed she is to be called a friend.

She looks on the bright side- he hasn't had a friend in years. That's got to mean something.

"Okay." He sounds relieved. "Thank you."

He falls asleep with his head down on the desk, his face turned to one side so she can see the way his eyelashes curl against his cheeks, how his lips part as he softly snores. She reaches out without thinking and runs her fingers through his unruly curls, she feels him lean against her touch as she does it, silently asking for her to keep doing that.

He has a pout on his face when she lets go. And it only deepens when she gets up and leaves.

He wakes up to an empty seat, and a heavy crown on his head instead of her hand. He hates how much he misses her presence. How he goes on with his day lulling around in the garden wordlessly, picking leaves off of trees and letting the thorns from roses prick the tips of his fingers until it hurts enough to make his eyes well up.

His mother spends supper in bed while he eats with his father in the dining hall, he rarely says anything, only ever speaks when asked a question, he imagines Alice is at the table, smiling with a book in her one hand as she drinks champagne with the other. He swigs some wine with no interest in savoring the taste.

He just wants to stop thinking about her. About her eyes and her laugh, her hair and her freckles. It all keeps showing up, in the statues in the halls, the flowers in the garden, even his own room, where he lies in bed, alone, imagining what it would be like to have her beside him. If he'd enjoy someone else in the comfort of his solitude.

After some debating, he comes to a conclusion.

Solitude is wherever Alice is.

-

"Your highness, I'm so sorry." The man apologizes for the fourth time as he tries to tailor his suit for him for the gala tonight. He's stood in his dressing room, the fabric on his skin being put together from the same tailor who fits his father, a stout man who panics every time Calum looks displeased.

Alice hasn't talked to him in two days. He's left her a book and has yet to receive it back. She seems to be elsewhere when he requests her presence.

He's adorned in baby blue, his mother's favorite color, and the white appliqués contrast entirely to his dark features. He's never felt so disgustingly fluorescent in his life, but his mother was pleased to hear he chose that fabric on her behalf.

"Try these." The tailor hands him a different set of cufflinks, anxiously awaiting his approval.

"They'll have to do." He clenches his jaw, tense and beginning to regret the idea of this bloody thing. He wants to call it off, but everything's all set up and he'd be facing weeks of backlash for doing such a thing. He'll have to suck it up.

"Your crown, your highness." The tailor presents it to him, the maori's eyes shoot daggers his way as he places it upon his own head despite a servant's plea that they can do it for him.

"Prince Calum, the guests are entering now." A man enters the room, and alerts him of the party starting, "It'd be best if you headed down soon."

Here goes nothing. He sighs, rolls his shoulders, then heads on out, only to triple check his appearance in each passing mirror. The worry eats its way at him from the inside out.

"Your royal highness, Calum Hood."

The doors of the ballroom open and he enters to applause and joyous cheers, loud orchestra music filling the room as he's quick to realize why he hated these things so much in the first place.

Everybody pretends to like him for a night. They all fake smile and fake laugh, they treat him with respect as if he doesn't see the way their breathing hitches when he goes to shake their hands. The servants walking around with trays grow beady eyed at his presence, making sure to do their very best. He supposes that maybe this will be short. He'll try to keep tonight as simple as possible.

He scans the crowd as he walks through it, eyes trying to find one girl in particular. He doesn't know anybody, very rarely does he find a familiar face in the crowd during his search.

"Happy birthday, your highness." He hears a familiar voice and his eyes flicker to try and find it.

"Ashton." He realizes with a breath of relief at someone he can talk to properly. "Thank you."

They stand silently for a bit, he tries to find her again, lips parting as he fails to find so much as a trace of her appearance.

"Ashton, have you seen-"

"Not yet, your highness." He makes a face of pity, towards the prince of all people. "If she is here, she's buried somewhere within these people."

Just as he finishes his sentence a body topples into his side, a yelp falling from their lips as he grabs onto the girl by the waist, a blur of a poofy blue dress strikes his eye and he trails his way up to their face. 

"Happy birthday." She speaks, out of breath.

He can sense everyone around him stop and watch them, as he helps her back up onto two feet, face in utter awe as he realizes she had shown up. Beautiful than ever. Her hair is down, unlike every time he sees her with it pulled back for work, and she has a locket around her neck, old and antique, but he adores it.

"Thank you." He whispers, trying to maintain composed as he fights back a smile. He gestures to the orchestra before glancing at her once more. "Would you like to join me in a dance?"

Her smile is answer enough as she takes his hand, for the first time, and it has him reeling over the moon. He feels elated, fantastic even. This may be his best birthday yet. He can hear people's feet shuffle as they clear the floor, others link up with their partners as they join him in the first dance of the night, a waltz begins.

He hates dancing.

"You're not the best dancer, I'm afraid." She watches the way he has to look down at his feet in concentration, her own move effortlessly. The way her own mum had taught her growing up.

"I haven't danced since I was seventeen." He admits, "Sorry."

"No need." She grins, as he manages to spin her well enough that she can tell he's just rusty, but not bad. This is just a little warm up. But it may be the best dance she's ever been a part of.

"I haven't heard from you for a few days."

"I've been at home." She explains sadly, "My mum is sick."

"So is mine." He whispers, and her heart drops. He's used to it. "That's a conversation for another time. How are you?"

"Stressed, but feeling much better now that I'm here." She helps him get back into the rhythm of the music, her hand being held by his makes her feel giddy inside. Her eyes fall to his suit, "This color looks nice on you."

"Touché." He mutters at the same time he glances at those around him. Their flashy dresses and suits glimmer against the chandeliers as he manages to spin her around once more, the way she grins so easily, has him boasting in his pride a little bit. He worried over nothing, they're still friends.

His one hand not holding hers rests on the dip in her waist, she feels herself go weak at his touch, and grins sheepishly to try and hide her blush.

She notices the girls around her, how they seem confused, is she being too obvious? Is it clear she's not wealthy? They all stare at the prince, at how he manages to carry on a smooth conversation while she smiles and talks to him. They're either suspicious at how close they seem or at how she's not intimidated by him.

"I was at your last birthday ball, you know." She reminisces, smiling at him as he seems taken back by her statement.

"My mother used to work for you guys, she sewed the queen's wedding dress." She can feel his hand squeeze hers, and her eyes crinkle at the obvious nerves within him. A man feared by the people is clamming up under the pressure of a waltz.

"I was sixteen, and so scared of everything." She laughs as the maori hums to prove he's listening. "I remember the food the most, the cake was red velvet."

"It's my favorite." He says, "Always has been."

The music dies down and he spins her one last time before she gives him her giddiest smile, dimples in her cheeks ever prominent. Her hands slip out of his and he stumbles back, bidding her adieu as the festivities continue.

"Thank you." He mouths to her, at the same time she gives a curtsey, her eyes as full of kindness as he's used to seeing. Calum's hands feel sweaty and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from grinning.

"Dreadful, isn't it?" A girl speaks beside her, suddenly by Alice's side in an over the top red ball gown covered in lace appliqués. She has a glass of champagne in her hand, and swirls the liquid around as she speaks. "The prince doesn't even know how to dance well."

Alice tenses, not exactly a fan of the energy this party has all of a sudden. She can't muster up a response, hoping to get the point across that she isn't going to add her input into this conversation.

The brunette huffs, "You know, I danced with him once, and hated every second of it. He was so intimidating, so quiet." She shivers at the unwelcome memory, "By the time the song ended he tried to kiss my hand and I refused to let him. Stormed right out."

"All because he couldn't dance?" Alice blurts, before her mind decides if this conversation is even worth her time.

The girl rolls her eyes, "No, his parents wanted me to try and marry him, as much as I love Queen Joy I would never be with someone so..." She skims Calum's appearance up and down as he discusses something to his father in the distance, shoulders broad, hands clasped behind his back.

"Manipulative." She decides, "Bastard probably doesn't even know how to emote nowadays."

Alice bites her cheek, and the pressure to speak up builds in the pit of her stomach. She can't just stand here and listen to some girl speak so lowly of Calum, of the prince, the man who has been nothing more than considerate to those who matter to him.

His mum. Alice remembers, and her heart wrenches at the words she used to describe her son. Caring, kind. She has no idea people say these things about him.

"Could you imagine?" She thinks out loud, "Having to marry him?"

Calum must feel them staring from afar because he glances through the crowd until his gaze meets Alice's and he gives her a longing look.

"Better not come over here," The girl beside her plasters a forced smile on her face as she speaks, waving at him. He gives her a nod of acknowledgement. "I'll tell you what, take one for the rest of us and marry him, that way we don't have to."

Alice wants to cry hearing that, because Calum has a heart and it's cold, yes, but it beats and flutters every time he sees her and maybe hers flutters at the sight of him, too. He has a soul and it's pained and full of sorrow but his mum is bedridden due to an illness that only gets worse every day and he has no choice but to live to his father's ruthless expectations. He has bad days and good ones, he lives in wealth and has no clue how little money his workers, his own servants, get paid. She adores Calum for being so strong when everyone else throws nothing but insults and glares his way. She truly adores him.

tag list:

@yeahimfinee

[sometimesimawriter]

Mirror Effect

Part 6

A/N: hey! I still exist! Life has been crazy!

Summary: five and Christina time. Kayla and Klaus discover new information and abilities ;)

Let me know if you like this shit or I should stop bothering with any of this! Also I have a sequel to this series which I personally like better so lmk!! Also I’m so sorry I can’t put the keep reading thing, it really won’t let me bc I’m doing this on my phone :(

Back to the story:

Christina's room was attached to the infirmary, and unlike the clutter of the infirmary, her room looked like a hurricane had barreled through. It was terrible, barely any space was left unoccupied by clothes, papers, shoes, or a combination of all three. She actually had the biggest closet of all three girls in the house- since there was a mutual agreement that she would need the extra space. Old habits tended to never die for her, and just like her bedroom growing up, no matter how much storage space she had, her room was fated to be a mess. Not like "Oh haha I'm such a mess!" Nah it was like five teenage girls were cramped into one space and none of them had the capability to pick up after themselves. When her, Emma, and Kayla first moved into the house, Kayla would once in a while try to clean Christina's space, but seeing that the mess had no end, she eventually gave up.

Christina now moved around the mess, using the few bare spots of her floor as stepping spaces to get to her bed. Her sheets were twisted around from the night before- she also had a habit of constantly kicking and tossing herself in her sleep. She moved a turquoise ukulele to the edge of the bed, and curled up. She then grabbed a tv remote off her bed stand and clicked the small television at the foot of her bed on. She flipped through some channels, but she wasn't really paying attention to the content, instead she was just zoning out. She was rethinking a bunch of things: how to solve the issue with the German steroid scientists, the face of the man Kayla had dropped to his death, how Max looked scared during his rage outside, how such a beast was asleep in the room next to her. There was a lot of serious shit going on for her, but the one thing she kept contemplating was Five. They shared a moment together yesterday, it really seemed like he was going to kiss her, and oh boy she couldn't get her mind off of that. She threw her head back onto her pillow, silently cursing Emma out for interrupting. What would have happened if they weren't interrupted?

She jumped up a bit when there was a knock on the door. Her heart began racing, thinking Max had woken up and Kayla wasn't there to talk to him and he broke out of the handcuffs. Another knock, sounding a little impatient. Then the door creaked open, pushing a shirt inside as it swung open. Then, instead of a scarred and angry Razor, a brown haired boy popped his head in.

"Hey, you busy- holy shit your room." Five looked around, momentarily gawking at a bra hanging off her desk chair. "You live like this?"

She jumped off the bed, pushing a pair of panties underneath her bed, "Ever heard of k-knocking maybe?"

He gave her a bland look, "I did knock, but you didn't answer. Can i come in?" It was more of a rhetorical question, since he was already walking inside. He toed a pair of jeans out of his way, "How much clothes do you own?"

She nervously giggled at this, "I've acquired a lot throughout the years."

"I see," he moved about the room, touching a Stones poster on the wall, then moved towards the desk, running his elegant fingers across the spine of a Rock Lives book. "You must really love rock music, huh?"

"Um yeah, more alternative, though." you rushed through the sentence, and he looked over at her, studying her. Her anxiety was probably palpable.

"I just wanted to come in here and apologize for yesterday in the infirmary. I was out of line." He too rushed through his apology.

"W-what do you mean?"

His throat moved, like he was forcing himself to swallow, "When I-ah- almost... kissed you?" This was strange, he was stuttering and sounded unsure. She could almost feel her heartbeat in her ears. Then she realized that he too was thinking about yesterday.

She jumped at this, "No!" Woah way too zealous there, "No... you don't have to apologize."

Her gave her a strange look, and walked over to the tv, crossing her as he moved. He had a kind of sweet scent. "What are you watching?"

She didn't really know, so she glanced at the tv and saw a sex scene playing. Heat flooded her face, and she scrambled for the remote, "Oh thats ah nothing, I wasn't watching that-" she finally found it and turned back around to shut it off, but he was suddenly standing in front of her. She stared into his eyes, and he had a very intense look on his face. His eyes moved rapidly, searching her face. He was standing so close she could feel his deep, heavy exhales on her face.

His hand moved to touch her hand, and she jumped a bit at the touch. He gave a small smile and firmly wrapped his hand around hers. "You seem to be a very strong willed and independent woman. I like that." His thumb moved back and forth across her knuckles. "which is why i want to ask: may I kiss you?"

She let out a laugh, and again, heat flashed in her face. Her nerves felt like popcorn kernels in a microwave, except the popcorn bag was on fire, and the microwave was hurdling through space at the speed of light (which is 1 X 10^12 m/s).

She finally decided to speak, "oh um ah, y-yeah i guess."

His eyelashes fanned across his face as his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips. Her chest rose and fell, and it seemed like he was basking in her nervousness. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned towards her, well, more like down towards her face. He gently pressed his lips to hers, treating her face as a porcelain doll. His free hand moved to her waist, gingerly touching her. Then he pulled back, opening his eyes, and a moment later she opened hers.

Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but her eyes felt like they were going to pop from their sockets and that her lips were buzzing with the ferocity of a wasp on crack.

He was the first to speak, "I liked that. Wanna do it again?"

She laughed, and then he wrapped his arm around her a little tighter, and oh boy did they kiss again and again.

Klaus walked into the infirmary, making slight eye contact with Five as he slipped into the door in the back of the room. He looked happier than usual- strange. Klaus pushed back a baby blue curtain where Max was strapped to a cot, still very unconscious. Whatever Gas Mask Man used was some powerful stuff, Old Klaus would have loved to get his hands on that. Kayla sat on a chair near the foot of the bed, with her legs propped next to Max's legs. She was reading a book, Klaus couldn't make out the name. He coughed a bit to get her attention and she looked up, and then she gave him a sweet smile. His heart felt like someone had grabbed it, not in a bad way, but he just really liked her smile; goofy, right?

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" She put a tab in the book, put her legs on the ground, and stood up.

"Just wanted to check on the blood again," he looked her up and down, and she rolled her eyes.

"The actual blood sample?"

"That too."

She looked down at Max, her faced etched with concern. Klaus hated the fact she was even in the same room with this guy. "I ran a test on it. Whatever he was on was some crazy shit. Dimethocaine, methamphetamine, MDPV, all the good shit." she looked up at Klaus, "The craziest part? A good 56% of his blood was made of it. Like it wasn't blood anymore, it was his DNA."

Klaus could remember a time when he was in a hospital. He had heard the nurses talking about him, how "remarkable" it was that he was alive. He no longer wanted to be that version of himself. Old him did have some good parts though, like how he knew exactly what those chemicals were, "Wait, so he was high on bath salts and coke?"

Kayla gave him a look, "...yeah. How'd you know that?"

He waved his fingers in the air, like a magician would after pulling a bunny from a hat, "The secrets of my mind." She giggled again, an angelic sound to him. The humor died out when Max made a grunting sound, and immediately Kayla went back to his side. When he didn't wake, Klaus spoke his mind, "Why are you spending so much time with him?"

"I feel bad, like i could have prevented this."

"But you couldn't."

"But i could have. I broke things off with him, and that blonde he killed? That was the girl he was cheating on me with. I think this was a plan of theirs."

Klaus couldn't deny this reasoning, but he still did not like it. "Or maybe he got what he deserved." She started to protest this but he continued on, "He cheated on you and look where that got him. He does not deserve you and you don't deserve this." He spat out this final word and pointed towards the unconscious body. He crossed the room to her, "Let Christina handle him," he gently grabbed her hand and began to lead her from the room, "I never got the coffee I was offered."

She then showed some resistance, "I can't leave him alone Klaus, he could wake up and tear through the cuffs."

"He'll be fine, leave him-"

She suddenly yanked her hand from his grasp, "No. I don't understand why you're trying so hard to get me away from him. What's your fucking issue?"

Klaus always considered himself a happy-go-lucky type of guy. His father always pushed him to go fight bad guys as a kid and he hated every second of it. He was more of a pacifist, especially after Vietnam- he just had grown to hate confrontation. This moment though, he had an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ever since he met Max he had an initial feeling of not liking him, and it was rare he didn't like someone. What he absolutely hated more was Kayla still protecting this bastard, after he treated her like shit and even threatened to kill her.

He looked at her, and he got pissed, "You wanna know what my fucking issue is? I don't like this guy. He threatened you, hurt you, hurt my brother. I have no reason to like him." He knew he should have stopped there, but he felt compelled to keep going. "I especially don't like how you are all over him," he sped up, talking erratically, "He won't treat you like I would!" he was beginning to yell, "I felt a connection with you that I only felt with someone else, and he's dead! And that connection is being tossed away because this asshole decides to show up all bloody and high!"

His tangent was done, but his lips kept moving, spilling words and ideas that weren't even his, "Your father abused you, and that's why you are clinging to him. When I left you, you were left to your own devices. Your father was cruel, and you are turning into the woman that i once was. Kayla Jane you are better than this!" His hands flew to his mouth, and whatever presence that took the wheel was now gone.

Her face was pale and her mouth slightly opened. "W-what?"

Klaus's heart sped up, "I- I don't know what just happened, I'm so so sorry.."

A single tear rolled down her face, "Only my mother called me that..." she whispered this.

There was silence in the room, then Klaus had to speak, "I think...your mom... was in me?"

She began to break down completely, her body caving in on itself. Klaus moved to her and she face-planted into his shirt. She sobbed, loudly, shaking in his arms.

Christina and Five came out of the back room, she looked shaken, but her eyes were set on her friend. She then made eye-contact with Klaus and made an O with her mouth. She then shoved Five back into the room and shut the door.

Klaus's attention was back on Kayla, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. Guilt hung heavy in his chest, he hated that he caused this break down.

A few minutes of sobbing passed, and eventually the crying slowed. Her body seemed to relax, and then she pulled away a bit and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

He hugged her tighter to him, "No, I shouldn't have said those things."

Silence again.

"I want to go to my room."

He slowly let go of her, expecting her to leave without looking back, but she took a few steps away and turned back to him, "You coming?"

[super-rainbows]

nbgevwcewrgvc

Rainbow: lol I’m still not over “are they in a sexual relationship?” like fuck off? what the fuck kind of question is that? 

Ethan: Yeah, me too. I really don’t get why he seemed to think that was a remotely normal thing to ask or that it’s weird for us to be uncomfortable as opposed to weird for him to ask that.

Rainbow: also fucking dying that you spent like €25 on a power supply and it just didn’t fucking work, lol xD

Ethan: At least now the problem has to be the fan. Probably. :P I’ll replace the fan, and if that doesn’t work then I might just try and find a cheap secondhand one, since that’s barely more expensive than trying to get it repaired.

Rainbow: hmm, but if you send it to Sony to be repaired and they can’t fix it, wouldn’t they just send you a new one for the same price? like is that how that works?

Ethan: I don’t know. But the warranty has been massively voided many times over at this point, so I don’t know if there’d even be a point trying to send it to them. 

Rainbow: hmm, yeah.

Ethan: Check it out, I can get a new (probably secondhand but still) ps4 for like €10 more than sending it to be repaired would cost.

Rainbow: lol. do you wanna just do that as soon as you get money, then? it’s more reliable than trying to disassemble the entire thing and replace the fan, isn’t it?

Ethan: Hmm. Well, Amazon is being uncooperative and useless, so I’ll have to try some other website.

Rainbow: lol

Ethan: Okay, I think if I get it sent to ParcelMotel then it’ll work.

Ethan: I’m so tired.

Rainbow: go to bed.

Ethan: Yeah, I know. ________________.

Rainbow: I know. I don’t think there’s anything you can really do. :/

Ethan: There has to be something.

Rainbow: apart from eventually moving out? idk.

Ethan: ____________________.

Rainbow: I know you’re joking, but don’t say that

Ethan: Sorry.

Rainbow: are you okay btw? take that however you want.

Ethan: Yeah, I guess. I feel less weird and awful (physically) than earlier. Emotionally I’m just bitter/resentful, which isn’t surprising. :P

Rainbow: I do find it kinda funny that you were like “where did the anxiety go??” but now it’s here, lol. anyway to change the subject drastically, just, did the trauma counsellor really think that asking you about a sexual relationship was not gonna make you feel uncomfortable?? 

Ethan: Isn’t the point of therapy to be upsetting, anyway?

Rainbow: well for one thing no, and for another thing, that would be a really bizarre way of going about it. it would be much easier to just ask you about piq or whatever. not like... wait until you mention us (which he couldn’t have known you were going to do) and then immediately ask if we’re in a sexual relationship. I guess it’s the “sexual” part that seems mostly weird.

Ethan: The first response to “these two people exist” being “are they together?” also seems weird to me, though not as weird, yeah. Oh, are you okay?

Rainbow: ugh, stop asking that. I mean, not really, I guess. idk. I’m fine really, just :/ kinda.

Jamie: Is your empathy still broken?

Rainbow: I’m not sure, and I’d need to test it or something, which obviously I can’t/shouldn’t(?) do. wait no, yeah, it is. otherwise I probably would’ve felt bad thinking of hurting you, lol. I do still love you, and like I said, just tell me to stop or whatever if I do anything bad. I mean, I don’t “want” to hurt you or anything, in that I know it would be bad or whatever.

Jamie: I take it that’s the best I can get? :P I know it isn’t anything personal whether you’re capable of empathy/compassion/etc right now or not, so I’m trying not to take it personally.

Rainbow: you did ask. I didn’t just say to you out of nowhere “hey I wanna hurt you”.

Jamie: I know, dw. I wouldn’t accuse you of being or anything, you know, if that’s what you’re worried about.

Rainbow: *shrugs* anyway it sort of is personal, or I can see how you’d take it that way, since you caused it and it only disappeared for you. like, technically it’s disappeared for “everyone I was capable of feeling bad for apart from Ethan”, but that entire list is basically just you. lol. but like that said, it isn’t anything to do with you really. you just triggered a thing. so kinda like if you’d done something and I cried; you wouldn’t be like “are you crying on purpose?” or “do I deserve for you to cry?” or “are you crying because you hate me/I’m bad?” (well like, I’d hope not, ‘cause those would be weird responses, lol). it really isn’t anything personal, it just comes off that way because of the exact thing it is and the exact circumstances.

Jamie: I am sorry.

Rainbow: lol. there’s no point trying to tell me anything like that, you know, because it means nothing to me. I’m not trying to make you sad, I’m just saying, don’t waste your time. I’m sure I’ll stop being like this eventually, don’t worry.

Jamie: I guess it’s hard to get used to the idea that now no matter how much I try to tell you I’m sorry or I love you or anything it just isn’t gonna get through.

Rainbow: *shrugs*

Ethan: What if I said it for him? Like if Jamie passed whatever relevant message to you through me? Since you still feel okay around me and able to have your guard down etc.

Rainbow: ... that’s cheating. idk. we can give it a shot if you want, I guess.

Ethan: If you want. 

Rainbow: *shrugs* anyway, do you wanna go to bed soon?

Ethan: Not really, but I guess I will.

Rainbow: lol

Ethan: Oh, by the way, I’m sorry for whenever it was.

Rainbow: it’s fine, I don’t hold it against you. I should, but I don’t, and for some reason it’s just all gone towards Jamie instead, lol.

Ethan: Do you want a better apology?

Rainbow: nah, I know you’re sorry. you gave a pretty good apology at the time, I think. just don’t mix codeine and stimulants again, seriously.

Ethan: To be honest, paranoia like that is really hit-and-miss. I don’t mean “I should try it again because it might work out fine next time”, but what I mean is, “avoiding that combination isn’t going to guarantee that the same thing won’t happen again”. I think a better solution might be to try and have a way of dealing with that if it happens. (I also won’t mix high amounts of codeine and stimulants, though)

Rainbow: right

Ethan: So basically to realise that you’re (both) being affected and that you aren’t capable of making good decisions, and that you should just stay very still and quiet to be safe until it wears off. Just like I do.

Rainbow: yeah, fair enough. I guess it’s hard to notice if we’re being affected. I mean it was pretty obvious for me because I was fucking flipping out, but Jamie seemed fine.

Ethan: Even if we assume Jamie was unaffected- which clearly wasn’t the case- the better procedure would’ve been to do nothing anyway, to make sure you were safe. It’s a difficult enough situation without being completely unable to think straight, so obviously if any of us are like that then we shouldn’t risk it.

Rainbow: yeah

Ethan: But even though Jamie seemed fine, he was still incapable of thinking clearly, or else it probably would’ve occurred to him that you weren’t capable of thinking clearly and didn’t know what you were saying.

Rainbow: yeah. I know. it doesn’t help, lol. as in, it doesn’t actually make me less whatever-it-is-now towards Jamie.

Ethan: *hugs* Well, the main point was basically to think of a better way to handle that in the future. I wasn’t trying to talk you out of what you feel like, or anything.

Rainbow: I said this before but I really love your like, blankness compared to Jamie, lol. because trying to say fucking anything to him about this, he just starts feeling massive sadness and guilt, and drowns out any possibility of having an actual conversation, lol. whereas you’re just like *shrugs* but you still apologise genuinely etc. like the same caring is in you too, but it doesn’t drown everything else out.

Jamie: ...

Rainbow: I wanna say that’s not a bad thing, but really it is kinda inconvenient. like is there really any situation where being overcome by guilt and sadness and just crying instead of talking is of any benefit or use? 

Jamie: I don’t do it on purpose.

Rainbow: I know. if I upset you too much lmk and I’ll leave you alone. but I just think your reactions are ridiculous. I guess it’s kinda nice in a way that you “care about me” enough to feel so bad over hurting me that you get distracted and cry, but like apart from that it’s useless.

Jamie: I get what you’re saying. I know it’s inconvenient if you’re like “hey this thing you did upset me” and I just freak out and cry instead of apologizing. There has to be some kind of balance, probably.

Rainbow: to be fair you did still apologise and all. anyway I guess I just don’t want you to care about me or act like it. there’s no point anyway.

Jamie: :/ ... I can’t just... Not.

Rainbow: yeah I guess. I just mean don’t act like you love me, ‘cause it’s a waste of time.

Jamie: That’s pretty much the same thing as what you just said.

Rainbow: maybe I’m not expressing it very well, then.

Jamie: I get the vague idea, it’s just not really something I can do? Like do you mean don’t say “I love you” etc?

Rainbow: I guess you can if you want, it’s just pointless because I don’t believe you and can’t understand it, then that upsets you, and that annoys me, so there’s no point.

Jamie: Right.

Rainbow: I’m willing to spend time with you etc still though. I’ll trust you again eventually, I’m sure. honestly, I have no idea why I even care so much.

Jamie: Well... We know why. You explained.

Rainbow: yeah but it was days ago? and x dimensional I guess is the main thing

Jamie: Yeah, but between us is kinda different. 

Rainbow: hmm. yeah, maybe I shouldn’t say that since I know you’ve been hurt by things I’ve done before, but that was like, before.

Jamie: I get what you’re saying, but either way, if it affects you then it affects you. ... Okay, I think we should go to bed.

Rainbow: lol.