#in one instance we were in the woods for some reason. I think someone else and I were looking for something? it was serious. and he was just

[running-in-the-dark]

had lots of weird creepy dreams last night, but the weirdest thing was that John Larroquette was there (once again) - he was his current age, I don't know how we knew each other but he was just there 🤷 and he kept pretending to be dead for some reason?! every time I'd start crying and screaming and someone would be like 'oh he's just pretending, he does that'

[tibby-art]

START telling me about Liam I'll throw up/pos

oh dude dude so liam is kyles younger brother and theyre very close. liam is a pretty nice, easygoing, kinda nerdy but friendly guy who’s had an interest in things like cryptids, aliens, magic, etc from a young age. kyle quickly follows in this interest and they spend a lot of time ‘monster hunting’ in the woods (taking cool photos, practicing bigfoot calls, etc). kyle cares for him a lot and is always looking out for him as an older brother, even if he’s a little reckless and unhinged at times. liam can sometimes be that voice of reason that keeps kyle from doing anything too crazy (and now look at how well kyle is faring without liam to keep him grounded)

liam always did much better in school. kyle is the problem child who skips class and doesn’t pay attention, but liam had great grades and was set to go to college for computer science. kyle doesn’t think very highly of himself, not in a pity-party way but mote of an acceptance? he thinks simply, “im not a great guy, im not good at school and idk what i want a carreer in. my brother is super smart and has a lot of potential, it’s my role to focus on helping him thrive”. looks out for liam, drives him to school, etc.

sidenote kyle’s car is full of marker doodles on the interior and anyone who rides in it can draw on the insides. the passenger seat is full of liam doodles of green ufos and cute aliens and stuff. the car is also named Charizard.

i think kyle is selfless in a stubborn way that ropes back around to selfishness. kyle is so loyal that he would put himself in harms way to protect someone he cared about in an instant. but this isn’t necessarily a Good thing - when you’re an older brother or a role model or any instance of being looked up to, you have a responsibility to take care of yourself too and he is severely lacking in this department. liam is 17 when he goes missing and i don’t think kyle has fully grasped just how mature liam is at this point. liam is worried for kyle and kyle has no idea.

liam goes missing in March of 2009. The campaign begins in September of 2009, 6 months later. this is just enough time that people are beginning to move on from the tragedy, except kyle of course, who refuses to move on/go back to school/get a job until he finds the truth. he puts missing person posters up all over town. he leaves ominous graffiti criticizing the police and reminding the town that people go missing here & no one cares. also another Fun Sidenote is that because liam goes missing in march, he misses his 18th birthday (june 18. hes a cancer i consider these things) and his high school graduation. alexa play wake me up when september ends (i dont think kyle can listen to this song). ever since the disappearance kyle gets nightmares once every week or two i think

hm what else oh yeah so in our discord server for the campaign we have 1-on-1 text channels with the other members where we can roleplay text conversations our characters may have between sessions. i asked jinx for a channel for kyle and liam where kyle can text liam telling him about his adventures and all of his cool new friends who are going to help him find him. liam doesn’t reply of course- wherever he’s gone he clearly doesn’t have access to his cell phone or else the mystery would have been solved a Lot quicker. but i think kyle and liam, despite both having friends in school, were always a little bit of the town weirdos that were way more into fantasy stuff than anyone else. so i think when kyle bonds with the party, he’s happy to have other magic weirdos around him for once, but it also eats him up inside to think about how much liam would like his new friends too. the party visits a cool magical library at some point and kyle has a moment where he just Stares at it all and thinks about how much he would love it. their mother is a librarian and they definitely spent a lot of their childhood running around the library playing & reading while she worked.

something crazy we realized is that every member of the party has a four-letter name (kyle, edie, vera, bill) and also is associated with colors in an order (red, pink, purple, blue). liam’s name also has four letters and his associated color is green. its a spooky coincidence that emphasizes that this person should be here, and their abscence is felt.

so yeah ermmm erm uhh yeah thats how its going!!!!!

liam’s toyhouse page btw

[thesamplemotion]

the isolation of consciousness.

EDIT: added 'keep reading' thing. this is one chonker of a post.

i don't know why i wrote this, really. i know what sparked it off, which was dead domain's video about the trump self-immolator, but beyond that, i'm not sure. i suppose i just wanted to get across the sheer terror of existence, and how the isolation of our consciousnesses from those of others can facilitate some profoundly horrendous outcomes, as well as how the solution is, as usual with these types of things, just to roll with it and accept it. so here it is.

it is a constant struggle among humanity that we are so separated from one another as consciousnesses. it is a limitation of our nature of being which is quite horrific when you think about it, as it means that you cannot know anything for certain. you don't know someone's intentions, or if they're who they say they are, or if they're even real. the profoundly subjective nature of perception forbids it. and while it is true that in our efforts to relate to one another and overcome this isolation we have produced beautiful pieces of art and music and cultural ephemera, such isolation can have striking consequences.

there is within most of us a certain level of our perception which we take for granted to be real. alongside the more obvious physical aspects, we assume that, if people don't have a reason to, they aren't usually lying to us. this is quite a useful premise, actually, as, for example, it immediately casts advertisers of products into doubt, preventing us from making hasty financial decisions, without adding to the stress of social interactions tje burden of meticulously checking the stories of all whom we encounter. a more idealised example may be of the orange seller. if you ask the orange seller whose oranges are the best, they may say theirs, and list a number of reasons why that is the case, such as that they are the juiciest of the ones they have tasted. the immediate reaction is, well, of course they would say that. however, if you interview someone at random about oranges, and they say the orange seller's oranges are the best, you're more likely to trust them, since they don't have a clear motive to lie.

however, what happens when someone is convinced that pretty much everyone around them may have a reason to lie, a reason which cannot be disproven due to the degree to which it is supposedly hidden, and the amount of people who are supposedly 'in on it'? once that reason is placed in substitute for no reason, a great deal of reality fals away. for example, if you became convinced that all of the world's governments were secretly controlled by the orange seller, and that everyone else but you has been brainwashed to believe that their oranges are the best, nothing can convince you otherwise. and of course you can't prove it, because it's everywhere, supposedly.

this is the point at which the isolation of consciousness becomes most terrifying. as you are alone in your perception, there is nothing to say for definite that you are right or wrong about anything. everyone around you is playing games with you, trying to get you to capitulate that the orange seller has the best oranges, and there's nothing you can perceive that can prove to you that they aren't.

in addition, it is possible for such isolation of consciousness to become apparent in relation to physical reality as well. for instance, if someone becomes convinced that they are living in a simulation, or that only they are real, they would have nothing to disprove that statement, as they would only have their perception to go off. if you've ever spent a night alone wandering in the woods, staring at the darkened treescape as your brain makes shapes, wishing you had someone else there to tell you there's nothing to be scared of, you know how terrifying the isolation of consciousness can be. there's nothing more real to look to beyond what you can perceive, and in a way, that's really frightening, in addition to the distinct possibility that such isolation has to send you down a maddening spiral of complete paranoia, which… can only end badly.

in terms of coping with it, i suppose my solution would be the one most people alraeady have: just don't think about it. if anything, the isolation itself and the consequences of it are the most real things we know of, so it's best to just accept it. of course, this isn't to say that we shouldn't help people who are suffering because of what it catalyses, i.e. radicalisation, derealisation, profound spirals of paranoia, et cetera. people absolutely deserve to be helped with this. for most of us, though, there's nothing we can do ourselves to alter our perceptions or definitively bridge the gaps between our consciousnesses. we can, and should, try, but don't let it get to you. in terms of perception, just work with what you've got, because that's all you're getting.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

1.1 the enemy of my father is... also my enemy (allegedly)

warnings : cussing, monster attack (hey, there's a lot of those), allie doing something that will probably anger the gods (shocking, ik)

word count : 4.8k

1.1 Garden Gnomes are FREAKY and Anyone Who Says Otherwise is a LIAR

In some ways, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there. 

Mostly because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. 

For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck. When you're a half-blood, you understand that it's just some divine force that is really trying to fuck up your day and at the very least if it doesn't make you happier, it'll give you peace of mind because you're given a reason. 

So there we were, Luke, Grover, and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

I was pretty much in shock, myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Luke kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

"Do you think anyone was hurt?" I worried. "What if someone got hurt?"

"Allie, Sweetheart, I get why you're upset," Luke said tensely, continuing to tug me through the trees. "But we need to focus on getting away from there. We have to keep ourselves safe first."

I bit my lip but nodded. He flashed me that smile that I really hated, the tender one that made my ears heat up even more than the infuriating, but somehow still charming, playboy one did.

"It was really brave, coming back to help us," he told me, releasing my wrist to wrap his arm around my shoulders. "You're doing all you can, I know, but focus on your safety before the others. You come first."

I gave him a weak smile in reply. "Yeah, well, you come first, too. Imagine what'd happen if the Stolls were left in charge of Cabin 11," I tried to joke. "There'd be nothing left."

He snorted and nodded, giving me a squeeze. The thunderstorm finally began to let up, and I sighed in relief, adjusting my backpack.

"Good call, getting us to keep our bags with us," I said tiredly to him. "We'd've been in trouble otherwise."

"Yeah, well. Been there, done that," he grimaced. My eyes flickered to the scar on his face.

"When you went on your quest?"

He stiffened slightly and I immediately regretted asking.

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You don't have to—" I began but he cut me off with a mild head shake.

"No, actually. When Thalia, Annabeth and I were on the run, we didn't have a lot. Thank the gods I'm a natural thief, or we'd have starved long before the monsters got to us."

I didn't reply, simply nodding. He looked glad that I hadn't said anything, so I made it my job to keep my mouth shut for a while.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.

Instead of finding a path, I came close to slamming into a tree and getting a nice-size knot on my head.

"Sorry!" Grover yelped as I turned my death glare on him.

"I think you're trying to get Luke killed. I think busting my head open on a tree would classify as 'me getting hurt while on this quest,' especially to Clarisse," I said, trying to lessen some of the tension that had settled over the three of us. Thankfully, it worked and we were able to laugh even with all of the awful shit going on. 

"When we stop for the night we need to talk about something the Kindly Ones said back there," Luke told me after a few seconds. I frowned, but nodded. I had been a bit too busy fighting to pay attention to their shrieking. I was kind of impressed he'd been able to figure out what they'd been saying, their voices were so shrill.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized suddenly that I was starving. I didn't know why, considering Katie, Silena, Nessa, and Clarisse had forced me to eat breakfast, so I knew I shouldn't be that hungry. The more I thought about it, the more the feeling went away.

Either way, we kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a '90s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I was thinking. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and random stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was almost impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. I knew if I sat down and stared at it for a while I'd figure it out, but we didn't have that extra time.

To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

"What the hell does that say?" I asked.

"Don't ask me," Luke shrugged. He cocked his head to the side and squinted, like that would somehow help him make out the cursive.

Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly, freaky, bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. Even if the feeling of hunger had mostly gone away, we could still stock up for later.

"Hey..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Luke pointed out. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar. We can stock up on food for later," I said.

"Snack bar," he wistfully agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

We ignored him.

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Luke dismissed him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

Luke ignored that. 

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman— at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're... um..." I started to say.

"We got separated," Luke lied smoothly. "Our bus caught on fire a few miles back. We panicked and ran, but we got lost in the forest. We smelt your food and were hoping we'd found a Burger King or something."

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and went inside.

"Good cover," I whispered to Luke. 

He flashed me a smug grin. "I know," he muttered back. "I'm a genius. Oscar-worthy. You have a few don't you? But please, no autographs."

I scoffed and hit him on the arm. "You're such an ass... but yes, if you must know, I have four. And all of the others— by, like, over 20 years, I'm the youngest person to ever achieve EGOT status," I informed him as we entered the room.

"Wait, you're right, I should be the one asking you that. Then I could sell it on eBay and get a shitton of mon—" My glare cut him off. "Never mind."

The warehouse was filled with more statues— people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. 

Go ahead, call me an idiot for being impulsive. Sue me. But, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas or something— it made everything else go away. I did, however, notice Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, but I didn't notice the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. Luke groaned at the sight. Grover shifted anxiously behind us.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I said, taking the polite route, one that wasn't used very often.

"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "We don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could interject and pull out my credit card, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice children who have been through such a terrifying day."

"Thank you, ma'am," Luke said with a charming grin on his face. 

She waved him off. "Quite alright, Luke," she replied, before she disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. My head shot up to look at her, but she wouldn't look back at me. Though, there was a weird... strain about it. Like she had to force herself to keep from looking at me.

Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, milkshakes, and XXL servings of French fries. 

I only ate a few fries before packing up the rest. If Aunty M found this at all weird or concerning, she didn't say it. Luke was very passionate about his burger and I don't think he remembered to breathe until halfway through.

I sipped at the chocolate shake Aunty Em had given me.

Grover picked at the fries, like I had, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Luke shook his head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

She'd said Grover's name, too, I realized. Had we said our names when we walked in? I couldn't remember for sure.

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, but since I didn't eat much it didn't make me feel as weirded out as I would've been. 

"So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested instead of uncomfortable. I was starting to get a weird vibe, or at least a vibe that started a while ago, but was only intensifying. If I could get some information out of her I might feel less... on edge.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em nodded. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"You get a lot of business on this road?" I didn't mean for it to come out rude, but even to me, it sounded bratty. 

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked. 

I swear to the gods...

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." 

The sadness in her voice was convincing, but not to the girl who'd been an actress all her life. It was real, but not 'oh my sisters are gone' sadness, more a 'feel sympathy for me you naive children' sadness. 

... If you are who I think you are...

Even Luke had stopped eating. I sat forward and asked, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Allie, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually, they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

... You trick ass bitch. 

"Luke? Maybe we should go," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I had to shake him in order to get his attention. "Our parents are probably looking for us."

He looked at me confused, while Grover started to chew on the wax paper. I could hear my own heart beating. 

"You look so, so like my beloved," she whispered, reaching out to stroke my cheek. I flinched away before she could. She didn't seem offended, for some reason. "Cut some of that pretty hair, bulk up or just make yourself less petite and womanly and you'd look exactly like him..."

"We really should go!" I stood abruptly, trying to drag Luke along with me. 

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "Our parents are waiting! Right!"

But Luke didn't want to get up. He even tried pulling me back to my seat, but I kept my feet planted. 

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" I asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I didn't want to go, but I felt like it was the only option. Luke wouldn't go with us, whatever she put in the food she gave us was obviously working. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Luke—"

"Of course we'll stay," Luke agreed. I don't think he even realized he'd spoken until the words were out of his mouth. He was snapping out of it. That was good. "It's just a photo, Allie. What's the harm? You're a model. Don't you take, like, hundreds every day?"

"Yes, Allie," the woman purred. "No harm."

I didn't like it, but I let myself get dragged to the back. Again, call me stupid all you want, I deserve it. But I thought there might be another exit back there or maybe we could find another way to escape before she turned us to stone.

Oh yeah, for those of you who haven't quite caught up with your Greek Mythology, this is Medusa. Get it? Aunty Em— Aunty 'M.'

She directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young lady in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," Luke remarked. I was trying to telepathically speak to him, since now he was starting to see something about this was wrong. SOS! We need to get the hell out of dodge! Now!

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Medusa stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover," she chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands.

"Luke—" I said.

"You know ma'am, Allie and Grover are right," Luke suddenly said. "We really should be going. Our parents must be frantic by now, after all."

"I will just be a moment," Medusa said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."

"Oh, I really think we should go." I began to stand up.

"Why?" She said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Don't leave yet, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" I shouted. I managed to slip Annabeth's Yankees cap out of Luke's back pocket and onto his head and then I pushed them both to the sides. I heard one of Grover's hooves against the ground, so one of his shoes had to have fallen off, but I couldn't see Luke, so I'd succeeded in helping them.

Now I had the problem of getting myself out of trouble. Which was now very bad, considering she had no veil on and was right in front of me. I kept my eyes glued to my shoes. 

Her gnarled hands grabbed me, giving me no choice but to stay there and not look at her face. She started rocking me back and forth, like a mother trying to console their child, but her grip was strong and her nails were digging into my arms.

"I didn't tell the whole of my story, dear Astraea," she said 'dear' with so much loathing I almost recoiled in fear. "You see, after I was cursed by Athena, I expected my lover to stand by me. To help me and my sisters, who had done nothing wrong. After all, I was in her temple on his request, and I was pregnant with his children. But he didn't help us," her voice grew dark.

"That's not my fault," I cried, voice strained and tears pricking at my eyes, but she only continued. 

"Instead, he abandoned us to our fate, uncaring of our suffering. And we were attacked by heroes," she spat the word contemptuously. "Who sought to eliminate the monsters. My sisters were killed, as they did not share my power to turn people to stone and so could not defend themselves, and I was left alone with nothing but my statues until the accursed Perseus killed me. It's all your father's fault! He and Athena! But I cannot get revenge on him, so I will settle for—"

Think of the most impulsive thing you've ever seen someone do. Now take that and multiply it by like... I don't know... 50? They still wouldn't come close to the level of impulsiveness I had acted on. 

She'd let go of one of my arms to caress my face. I don't know who gave me the thought process I had in order for me to do it, but I did it. And it was pretty badass if I do say so myself. 

Just before she touched my face, I closed my eyes shut and kicked my leg out which just enough force to knock her to the ground. She let go of me and I ran. My first thought was to find Luke, get Grover, and book it out of there, but then Luke found me first. Medusa let out a cry of outrage at the same time I almost screamed a lung out of my body. 

Still invisible, Luke had grabbed me and pulled me behind a few stone statues, pressing me up against the wall and putting his hand over my mouth to keep the scream contained. As soon as we were out of her line of sight, Luke took the cap off and let me go. 

"You have to cut her head off."

"What? Why can't we just get the hell out of here?"

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. We can't let her continue to live, turning innocent people into stone for her own amusement. I'd kill her myself, but you have the better weapon. Weapons."

I bit my lip but nodded in acceptance. Luke was right. If we didn't stop Medusa, she'd just keep killing people. My heart clenched as I glanced at a body (I couldn't think of them as statues anymore. It seemed too disrespectful to her victims). It was a young girl scout with her mother. The little girl was missing one of her front teeth.

"Okay," I agreed, voice barely a whimper. "But how will I see her? None of us have shields."

Luke grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "Use this," he ordered me. "It's not as good as a polished shield, but it'll do."

"You know!" Medusa screamed out in her rage as she finally got up. "I'd hate destroying a pretty face like your's, Allie, but what better way to get revenge? I turn you to stone and destroy your statue. Kill daddy's little princess twice over. A pretty face for a pretty face! How does that sound?"

Then Grover also took a slice of the impulsive cake. 

There was a wild battle cry and I glanced at another of the reflective sphere things. The sight shocked me. Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat, was racing for Medusa. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by his ears and nose alone.

"I'll get her!" He yelled. I let out a moan of horror, making to run and join the fight. Knowing Grover, I was sure he'd miss Medusa and knock himself out.

Thwack!

At first I figured it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree. Then Medusa roared with rage.

"You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

I scrambled away and hid behind another person to peek carefully at the scene while Grover ran in for another pass.

Ker-whack!

"Go, Grover," I muttered.

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere near us. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

I pressed the diamond of my necklace and turned it into Riptide. Thank the gods it didn't make a noise, otherwise, I'd have been pretty screwed. 

Then I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I could only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green-tinted glass, I saw her.

Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he swung a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and threw him roughly away from her with unnatural strength. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled a panicked, "Hey!"

I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself. But she let me approach— twenty feet, ten feet.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Allie," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't. What would Mommy think of such behavior?"

I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass— the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making my arms go weak. But then I got an idea. Let her think she has the upper hand.

From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Allie, don't listen to her!"

Medusa cackled. "Too late."

She lunged at me with her talons. I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening shlock! then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern— the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. I jumped away, just in time to keep my shoes from getting permanently destroyed. 

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck."

Luke came up next to me, his eyes fixed on the sky. He was holding Medusa's black veil. "Don't move," he instructed me.

"I know."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, he knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

"I knew you could do it," he grinned at me. "I trained you after all." 

I scoffed. "Oh, please. That was pure, natural talent. You trained me for a few days. You don't get the credit." I glanced at the covered head with a grimace. I felt queasy looking at it. "Why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," he explained. "Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

"Right," I breathed. Grover trotted up to us, a large red knot forming in the middle of his forehead. "Good work, G," I told him appreciatively. "You were definitely more useful than that one over there." I jerked my thumb at Luke, who gave me a look of mocking offense.

"That hurts Angel, it really does," he pouted jokingly. "Here I was trying to give you some real-life experience, and you mock me." He shook his head sadly and I chuckled.

"That really was not fun, though," Grover announced. "Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

"You didn't enjoy crashing into solid stone?" I deadpanned. "Shocking. What do we do with the head?"

"Let me check the office," Luke decided. "See if I find some inspiration." I sat down tiredly, letting him go and search. He came out a few minutes later, with two more paper bags, a box, some tape, extra drachmas and, best of all, a slip of paper with an address on it in Ancient Greek. DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. The Underworld's billing address.

"Awesome," I breathed, taking it from him. "Luke, I could literally kiss you right now."

He brightened, suddenly in my personal space. "I'll take you up on that," he declared.

My eyes narrowed before I grabbed his collar and pulled him down to my level. Then I briefly skimmed my lips across his cheek. Grover choked in the background as I pulled back before Luke managed to do anything.

"Never let it be said that I don't do what I say," I whispered in his ear before stepping away and starting to wrap the head up more securely. Luke gaped at me, looking bewildered as I taped the box shut, head double-wrapped inside.

Then I scribbled on the top of it. 

Now, remember earlier when I said I did the most impulsive thing anyone's ever done? Yeah, that situation's about to happen again.

But I was mad and furious at being called a thief and this experience did not make me feel much better. 

Lord Zeus,

Mount Olympus,

600th Floor,

Empire State Building,

New York, NY,

With best wishes,

Astraea Jackson

P.S. I was in Philly while your bolt was getting stolen. Lucky for you, I'm a nice person and am willing to find it and return it to you. 

If you could kindly hop off my ass, that'd be great. Have a nice day :)

"He's not going to like that," Grover warned. "He'll think you're impertinent."

I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!

"Yeah, well, I am impertinent," I told them both, crossing my arms over my chest. Luke was still gaping at me, but now it was because of two impulsive things I'd done. "Come on," I ordered. "We need a new plan."

*    *    *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

[whitepolaris]

The Devil's Tree

In Port St. Lucie, there's a big oak in a county park on Canal C-24 that has an evil reputation. It is the Devil's Tree, an oak tree located in Oak Hammock Park, a place frequented mostly by local fishermen who use the boat-launching facilities.

The story begins on January 8, 1971, long before Hammock Park was built, when a serial killer sexually molested and mutilated two teenage girls and then hanged them from the oak tree. The psycho killer than buried his two victims in a shallow grave beneath the oak. Allegedly, the crazed killer returned on several occasions to have his way with the decomposing bodies.

In January 1977, almost on the sixth anniversary of the heinous crime, two men found the girls' skeletons, along with the two deteriorating ropes tied in a hangman's noose. Ever since then, there have been reports of hooded satanic worshippers dancing around the tree, and some say that you can still hear the screams of the girls. One allegation has it that before the park was built, there were several attempts to cut down the oak, but it seems that chain saws refused to work, when near the tree. When men tried to cut it down with a two-man crosscut saw, all the teeth fell out of the blade. Needless to say, the tree is still standing open area down a nature trail.

Witnesses claim that the women's restroom at Oak Hammock Park is haunted by the dead girls. It is said that the strange screams have been heard from the restroom and the doors slam shut. Supposedly, there are cold spots in certain areas of the park. What is really strange is that we found no firsthand accounts of these claims. It was always a case of somebody hearing it form someone else. But that's what keeps legends alive.

There were so many reports of devil worshippers going on at the Devil's Tree that in 1992, a priest performed an exorcism and placed a cross at the base of the oak. A few years ago, there were several instances when the sheriff's department responded to calls about satanic activities in the park, lending more credibility to these legends.

Chased by Weird Men Wearing Hoods

I have my doubts about any ghost story, but I know that some weird-looking men used to be seen out there a lot wearing hoods and long coats. I have heard hundreds of people say how they would chase you if you got too close. -Mike H.

Saw a Warlock Ritual

You want to know about the Devil's Tree? We used to camp out there often and used to see people wearing hoods and robes around the tree. I was told that these were warlocks performing a ritual. I don't know how true it is, but we saw them. -JDXfiles

Girls Hacked to Death at the Devil's Tree

In Oak Hammock at night you can hear two girls being killed. They were hacked to death and hung up in the tree. People say their screams can be heard all around the Devil's Oak. I went there with my bud to check it out. We found the tree, and when we were walking down the trail, we sensed somebody was following us. We hid behind a tree and looked back down the trail and saw a dark figure of a man. We started walking faster and looked back, and this dark figure was still coming behind us. We got to the parking lot and sat in the car but never saw anything come out of the woods. I think we were being followed for some reason. -bigfoot88

Serial Killer Was the Real Devil at the Tree

In Port St. Lucie, Fl, there is a little town-owned park where aerial killer Gerard John Schaefer hanged, then buried 19-year-old Collette Goodenough and Barbara Anna Wilcox at the Devil's Tree. Ever since, people have reported hearing screaming coming from the woods and seeing hooded figures who chased away overly curious thrill seekers.

There are orbs and ectoplasm pictures that have been taken in the parking lot, but people can hardly ever take pictures near the tree, because their cameras malfunction. I get creeped out when I go there, and I refuse to set foot in the woods. I have heard of people feeling cold spots along the trails during the hottest days in July.

In 1995, Gerard John Schaefer was stabbed to death in prison.

If you're ever in the area, the park is located at 1982 S.W. Villanova Rd., Port St. Lucie. -A.C.Y.

[shoezuki]

ok so like i been Thinkin a lot on that stream techno had today and i may be Thinkin Too Much cuz i was doing psychology while watching but im going to say Words Now

the entire idea and Plot of tommy going from only interacting/being manipulated by dream to only interacting with techno is a Lot. theres a lot here. and i am feasting like a fucking king on the potential of it and what this could all Mean

I think we’re building up the idea of how techno and dream differ and how they house both similarities and extreme differences in their ideals. 

So if we considered how Tommy’s arcs have changed theres a very, VERY clear juxtaposition between the exile arc to.... raccoon arc? whatever the fuck is goin on

Tommy Was manipulated, isolated, and gaslit by dream. that was the only guy he really had interacted with and that was Intentional entirely. Its very obvious this will have and currently has an affect on tommy. 

Now, he’s with technoblade. theres a lot of shit that can be read in this simply as considered right now. I feel we’re clearly supposed to at least somehow compare dream and technoblade because their positions are somewhat similar concerning how they are interacting with tommy. 

Tommy can only really interact with techno, only techno really has the ability to see him (although ranboo, ghostbur, and phil could see him but theres obvious difficulties in their case), and how tommy regards technoblade is.... complicated. like how he regards dream at the moment.

but theres some really, really important and clear differences in this that i think will show a lot about techno’s character and what’s to come

first of all, there’s a question of why techno is seemingly ‘letting’ tommy live with him. No joke, i’ve discussed this a LOT in the technocord and it’s made me realize it from a different perspective since many of those people in there are from Before techno joined the smp.

so, there’s no clear ‘rational’ reason why techno would benefit from teaming with tommy. there’s some arguments that could be made; tommy’s position with people and especially tubbo, using tommy as a bargaining chip with dream, and something else i cant remember. but the technocord hardcore ppl feel tommy is a liability in the long term. techno doesn’t really have much to gain beyond a distraction. the idea of using tommy in order to convince him he’s getting the disks and then to destroy lmanberg is kinda.... its jus more trouble to techno. In fact, it wouldve been defendable for techno to kick him out; he stole his stuff, and we saw how he reacted to his cows being killed, his previous base being pillaged. You’d have thought techno wouldve been angrier.

but like. that aside. there’s little reason for techno to open up to tommy. and thats the point.

there’s no necessity on techno’s part. he doesnt need tommy. he could kick him out easily. but he won’t. 

I imagine technoblade sees the trauma and hardship tommy went through and he sympathizes with him. Its been made clear that techno doesnt know the full extent of what happened, but he doesnt need to. he knows enough. 

Now, back to the happenings of the last stream,

it wasnt plot heavy at all. (mostly because techno’s fuckign glasses are held together with SCOTCH TAPE the guy couldnt even fucking use ducttape i hate that) but there were a Few interesting things, including the Plot Stream a bit;

the ‘box’ techno made with the idea of hiding tommy from dream. (perhaps a joke but it still shows something i feel)

how he’s been giving tommy a Lot of stuff. he hasnt Genuinely been upset at his golden apples being taken; in fact, techno gave him more food in protest of him eating all the gapples instead of.... demanding them back

went mining in the nether with the intention of getting tommy better stuff

he replaced the log he accidentally stripped. extremely funny considering he got the wrong type of wood but he tried

expending more resources on tommy with invisibility potions so that he wasnt in danger of being seen

Repeatedly would assure tommy that dream Is Not His Friend.

at the idea of tommy being ‘banned’ from the nether and being attacked in lmanberg, techno laughed at the idea of him being ‘attacked’ and killed even when tommy worried that he’d die for the Last Time

implicated that techno WOULD defend him. and the idea of someone killing Either him or tommy was funny because of that

okay so slight comparison to dream; techno is instead GIVING tommy resources instead of blowing them up, he’s obviously intent on protecting him in some way, and he assures tommy that dream is No Good (rather than how dream was telling tommy no one cared about him)

But there’s one instance that was really, really important to me

the control room had a very bad impact on tommy. most likely a panic attack (the shaking, heavy breathing, scattered speech/thought is something i know so intimately lmao) and techno’s reaction to it was extremely interesting. 

first, techno said he was ‘freaking out for no reason’ which could be a) techno is horrific at emotions and vulnerability lmao and b) to Him, it Is nothing. he has no clue what tommy had been through. 

He repeatedly asked what was wrong. what had happened in that room. He pressed Slightly. but as soon as tommy said he didnt want to talk about that, techno instantly backed off and said its alright. specifically, he said:

“It’s fine, no one recovers in a day tommy. Healing is a long process, it’s fine.”

that shit hit me like a freight train. Mostly i didnt expect anything to come from this stream like that but FUCK LMAO.

The biggest thing is, i think technoblade is going to help tommy heal from the dream shit and get back on his feet. 

but also, even though im not entirely sure i need to see more, tommy will get techno to be more caring. We know philza is the only one techno is really close to, and ghostbur as well. both of which either weren’t involved in betraying techno, or doesnt remember it. i see it pointed out that techno is going at tubbo and his government rather than dream, but i think it makes sense. 

dream technically hasnt challenged techno’s ideals or what he wants; while tubbo stole from him, used him as a weapon, and reinstated a government despite everything techno was saying. 

Tommy took part in betraying him, thats without a doubt. but tommy was also screwed over by the government in place. so techno empathizes with him. maybe they dont fully trust each other, but thats a work in progress. and it will progress to technoblade trusting tommy despite their past, and realizing that dream is in a position of power over Everyone. 

tl:dr: tommy is going to heal with techno’s help and full come to terms with/realize what dream did to him, and techno is going to realize he CAN trust people and that dream has been the one pulling the strings all along

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Fresh Starts

Leah (Stardew) x Selectively Mute She/Her Reader

A/N: Thought I’d try something different with this one. Sorry if I didn’t detail the instances of sign language very well, or if they are a little off, I did try. Also Kel is an asshol in this when they show up so get ready for that. Robin is cool mom and Abigail is the friend who is always ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Also, time is so weird in Stardew? There are four season in a year but each season is like a month so a year is like four months. Time is scary. I hope you like it! Word Count: 8,943

~

“So, someone has finally taken up that old farmland,” Leah heard Gus say to Harvey as he fixed the good doctor a drink at the bar, “‘Heard Lewis and Robin talking about it outside of Pierre’s yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Harvey was tired from a long day at the clinic, but being ever polite, he humored Gus and rested fully against the bar stool.

“Mhmm, looks like the old man’s kin is finally gonna make something of it. A few years late though I must say, that place is well overgrown. It’s gonna take a lot more than a little elbow grease to spruce up that dump,” Gus chuckled good naturedly and handed Harvey his beer, “I wish them luck, whoever they are.”

“Bah!” Leah jumped in her seat tucked away in the corner. Pam must have been listening in too. “If they’re smart they’ll just sell the heap of trash to Joja. M’sure they’d get a pretty penny for it.” Pam spoke bitterly. Shane, who was also quite drunk at this point in the night, took the opportunity to add his two cents in and yell across the bar.

“Why would they get your daughter for selling out to Joja?”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass!” Pam roared back, slamming her beer on the table with a loud thump.

Leah decided she’d call it a night then. Without Elliott to crack jokes with, the saloon could get real depressing real fast with Shane and Pam racing each other to see who would get alcohol poisoning first. Even Clint was just sad to watch. The poor man sitting hopefully, waiting for Emily to even just turn in his direction. Leah finished the rest of her beer and paid Gus, giving the man a sympathetic smile as he left to cut Shane off.

Leah shivered in the cool spring breeze as she walked along the river bank to her cottage and her thoughts wandered back to what Gus had been gossiping about.

“A new face around Stardew Valley, hm?” Leah mused, kicking a stray pebble in her path, watching it skip across the cobbled stone. “I guess I won’t be the town newbie anymore.” She smiled and turned to look in the direction of Marnie’s home, knowing that the farm was somewhere just beyond. As Leah turned the key to unlock the door of her small cottage, she wondered what changes this new resident might bring.

***

“Have you met our new resident farmer yet?” Leah heard Caroline ask Jodi as she walked across the town square.

“I suppose you could call it that,” Jodi laughed, “It was a very brief meeting to say the least.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one then,” Caroline sighed, putting a hand to her chest in relief, “I thought I had offended the girl somehow, she never said a word. She just walked into the shop and pointed to a few seeds she wanted to buy, then she handed Abigail, Pierre and I daffodils and went on her way. Not so much as a sound.” Caroline explained, still bewildered by the interaction.

“Sounds about right,” Jodi nodded, “She knocked on the front door and handed me a single clam. Which was nice I suppose, but so very odd. She gave Vincent a daffodil too,” Jodi smiled, “He was very pleased. I’m sure she would have given Sam something as well if he could wake up at a more reasonable time.”

“Oh, Leah! Good morning!” Caroline had caught her. Leah put on her most sociable smile and walked forward, greeting the two women.

“Good morning Caroline, Jodi.”

“Have you been visited by the farm fairy yet?” Jodi asked, chuckling along with Caroline.

“I’m afraid not.” Leah admitted. “Although Elliott says I am a bit difficult to track down at the best of times.” She laughed good naturedly.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll get you sooner or later. She seems to be on a mission to greet the whole town. If you can call it a greeting I suppose. I don’t even know her name.” Caroline realized.

“It’s (Y/n).”

The three women jumped and turned to a grinning Robin, walking up to them with her yoga mat swaddled under her arm.

“Her name is (Y/n). She’s quite the character, huh?”

“Robin, you helped Mayor Lewis move her in didn’t you? What can you tell us?” Jodi asked, looking for any crumb of information she could get on the mysterious girl.

“Not much to tell,” Robin shrugged, “Just a sweet kid wanting to get away from the pressures of the big city,” she sent a knowing look at Leah, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Leah laughed politely, twisting a finger around the tail end of her braid as blush settled in her cheeks faintly.

“But why is she so... you know, quiet?” Caroline asked.

“Hm, well, she did give me her blessing to explain should it come up.” Robin took a moment to think of how to proceed, absently tapping her fingers against her mat. “(Y/n) is selectively mute. She has the ability to speak, but she’s just not comfortable enough to do so at this time. This move was a big decision for her, and she’s excited, but it’s just gonna take some time before she feels secure enough to communicate orally.”

“And how did you get all this information out of her?” Caroline wondered.

Robin secured her yoga mat between her thighs and presented both hands, pointing her index fingers outward and drew a couple large circles in the air with the tips of her extended fingers. “Sign language!” Robin grinned, before taking a hold of her mat once more.

“Oh how clever!” Jodi praised. “I wish I understood sign language.”

“I’d be happy to show you a few of the basics sometime. If you really need to ask (Y/n) something though she will have no problem writing out answers for you.” Robin informed. “Now, are we working out today or...”

“I completely forgot!” Caroline smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, “Yes, let’s go. Poor Marnie is probably wondering where we are. Are you going to join us Leah?”

“I’ll pass, thanks. I’m heading to the beach to do some painting,” Leah explained, motioning to her bag.

“Alright, see you around!” Caroline, Jodi and Robin bid Leah goodbye and hurried to the general store.

Leah sighed, as much as she liked the people in this town they were so chatty. She could have been at the beach forever ago! Once she arrived, she saw Haley sunbathing. Not unusual, but as she kept walking closer to shore she saw Elliott splayed out over the sand laying on his stomach.

Leah rolled her eyes and walked over, playfully kicking the man’s arm, causing him to squint up at her.

“Is there some kind of new writing exercise I should know about?” She asked, playfully.

“I wish, this is simply writer’s block at its finest.” Elliott groaned. “That, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with this,” he sat up and produced a wild horseradish from his jacket pocket.

“Why do you have a horseradish in your pocket?”

“A girl I’ve never seen before in my life gave it to me. Then she took off before I could refuse. Didn’t even say a word.”

“She’s totally weird, but she did give me a daffodil so I guess she’s not that bad.” Haley called from her own spot in the sand.

“Has everyone met the new girl except me?” Leah wondered aloud.

“She’s been making rounds. I’m sure she’ll find you eventually.” Elliott said, resting his chin over his arms.

“You make her sound so ominous.” Leah laughed, lowering herself to the sand and taking out a sketch pad.

“A silent specter. A harbinger of-“

“Oh can it, drama queen,” Leah smirked, “so she gave you a horseradish, it’s not the end of the world. She was just trying to be nice.”

Elliott pursed his lips, propping his head up with one hand he turned the horseradish in the other offering it to Leah. “Do you want it? You’re all about foraging.”

“I mean, if you’re not going to use it sure. Put it in my bag.” Leah relented easily. Her eyes only leaving her paper to study the horizon for a moment, then continue to sketch.

Leah stayed on the beach with Elliott for a couple of hours, talking  sketching, and painting. Finally she stood and stretched, patting the sand off the back of her jeans. “I should get going. See you around.”

“See you.” Elliott nodded, splitting off from Leah to head over to his shack.

Leah hummed to herself as she walked through town, making her way past Jodi’s house and entered the Cindersnap Forest. As she rounded the corner of her cottage, she paused in her tracks. Observing a young woman staring at her door with dandelions in one hand and her other poised to knock on the weathered wood.

Leah flinched slightly, she had stepped on a twig, snapping it and alerting her visitor of her presence.

Startled eyes met Leah’s own and the farmer straightened from her previous position, stepping back from Leah’s door.

She smiled shyly, giving Leah a short, jaunty wave before gesturing between Leah and the cottage a moment. Then she stood still. An expectant look on her face.

Leah simply stared back, blinking before she registered the silent question. “Oh! Yes, I live here. That’s my house. You’re (Y/n), right? Robin told me about you, I’m Leah.” She smiled kindly, coming forward to offer (Y/n) her hand to shake.

Instead of grasping Leah’s hand, (Y/n) cupped it with her gloved hands, turning Leah’s hand palm up and placing the dandelions inside.

“Ah, thank you.” Leah chuckled, “These will make a great salad.”

(Y/n) nodded vigorously, then moved to make her exit. Leah wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she called out to (Y/n) before she could get too far.

“Wait, I um, it’s not much but I did take an intro to ASL course my freshman year of college so, I’m a bit limited but if you ever want to talk, you know...” Leah wished she could stop talking right now. Why had no one told her that the farmer was cute!? “So, yeah, you know,” Leah fumbled with her free hand, her fingers sat just underneath her chin before she sent them forward, “Thanks again.” She smiled nervously.

(Y/n) stared at her, dumbfounded. Then she released a short, sharp exhalation of air that was reminiscent of stuttered laughter and turned back to stand before Leah. (Y/n) made a timid approach and gingerly took Leah’s wrist, still hovering midair, and guided the hand back to rest on Leah’s chin, just below her lip. Leah stood still as stone as (Y/n) held it there for a second then extended the hand forward. She repeated the motion twice more before backing away and releasing Leah from her gloved grasp. The smell of earth and grass still clung to Leah’s nose even after (Y/n) had stepped back.

“Oh, I did it wrong, didn’t I?” Leah blushed, “Is there a big difference between the two?”

(Y/n) blew out a large breath of air and nodded. One of her gloved hands came up to cover the amused smile fighting against her lips.

“What did I say? Was is embarrassing? Yoba, I need to know,” Leah carefully set the dandelions at her feet and rummaged through her bag. Taking out her sketch pad and a pencil, she flipped to a clean page and presented the materials into the rough fabric of (Y/n)’s gloved hands, “Please, tell me.”

(Y/n) shot Leah a sympathetic smile, then she looked down at the paper and wrote quickly and concisely. She looked over her work, nodded to herself, then she handed the sketch book and pencil back to Leah before jogging of in the direction of her farm.

“Eh- Hey! Wait a minute!” Leah took a few strides after the farmer but quickly gave up, electing to look at the paper in her hand instead. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Nice meeting you Leah, smiley face.” Leah read aloud to herself. She scoffed, but couldn’t stop the smile that had conquered her lips. She couldn’t wait to see (Y/n) again.

***

“Hey, Maru-“

“I think I have a feeling about what this is about, but just in case, please proceed.”

The next morning, Leah had made her way to the clinic to visit Maru and perhaps get the answers she was looking for. She had made the trek to (Y/n)’s farm first, but she wasn’t there. A little note hastily taped to the farmer’s door revealed that she was spending the day fishing in the mountains and wouldn’t be back until late at night.

“Maru, you know sign language like your mom, right?” Leah asked.

“Sure do. Seb and dad do too.” Maru nodded, leaning over the clinic counter. “But I’ve got to tell you that if you’re looking for the meaning of what you accidentally signed to (Y/n) last night, we were sworn to silence earlier this morning before (Y/n) went fishing. Sorry.” Maru smiled.

“Ugh,” Leah sighed, leaning her forehead against the counter. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Well, it’s really funny. Especially considering how chill you normally are and your kind disposition.”

“Yoba, I really need to know!” Leah groaned against the counter.

“Well my family can’t tell you. You’ll just have to wait to hear it from (Y/n),” Maru grinned and pushed away from the counter, “I have to prepare for Evelyn’s check up now so I’ll see you around Leah.”

“Yeah, bye.” Leah grumbled, watching Maru disappear into the back offices. “Well, there goes that plan.” She mumbled under her breath as she left the clinic.

Leah spent the rest of the day sculpting in her cottage. She spent hours getting lost in the chipping of the wood before finally going to bed.

***

It had been days since Leah last saw (Y/n) and if the farming life wasn’t so demanding, Leah would have been worried that she had deeply offended the farmer to the point that she was purposely avoiding her. Leah decided not to waste the time she had been presented with.

She approached Robin about sign language lessons, enough to get some basic phrases and words. She practiced the motions herself, perfecting them to allow for no mistakes. Although she knew (Y/n) could hear her just fine, she found it easier to retain the lessons this way. Not to mention that it was just a useful language to know.

“I’ve hardly seen you around. I was worried you stabbed yourself with your woodworking tools.” Elliott said as Leah came up to sit next to him in the saloon.

“And you didn’t think to come to check on me?” Leah looked at the writer incredulously.

“Nope.”

Leah punched Elliott’s arm and he laughed. Before long, Emily came by with their food and they ate comfortably.

“Would you look at that.” Elliot spoke, pointing in direction of the door as he swallowed another bite.

Leah turned to look, purple irises sparkling at the sight of (Y/n) lugging a large bag up to the bar. She watched Emily talk (Y/n)’s ear off, the poor farmer smiled uncomfortably while trying to divide her attention between her and Gus who had apparently requested a variety of fish.

“Wow, Robin said you were in trouble but you really are,” Elliott chuckled behind his beer, “You really lit up just now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leah scoffed, still watching (Y/n) hand Gus fish after fish. It was almost comical how such an objectively small bag could hold so much.

“You can’t keep your eyes off her. I realize the dating pool in Stardew is small, but the girl just got here.”

“Elliott, stop!” Leah blushed, looking back down at her plate to stab at her salad.

“I’m just saying, you’re already taking sign language lessons for her you might want to dial it back a little bit. You wouldn’t want to come off as the obsessive type.”

“Oh! She’s leaving, should I offer to walk her home? I’m going to offer to walk her home.” Leah dug in her pocket and pulled out some gold, pushing it over to Elliott.

“What did I just say?” Elliott called after Leah, as she eagerly jogged to the exit to catch (Y/n) walking in the direction of the Cindersaps, perfect!

“(Y/n), good evening!” Leah called jogging up to the farmer only to have the farmer gasp and take several steps away from Leah, holding her hands out as a warning to not come any closer. “I’m sorry, I’m didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” Leah gasped, maybe Elliott was right.

(Y/n) shook her head, slowly taking a step back towards Leah, presenting her slightly soggy bag and waving her hand in front of her nose, scrunching her face as she did so.

Leah was sure the movement wasn’t an official ASL sign, but it did help get the point across and she giggled.

“What? Do you think you smell?”

Another nod and a look that seemed to say that she didn’t just think so, she knew so. She had been in the mines all morning and fishing at the beach all afternoon. She couldn’t wait to take a shower.

“It’s alright, I won’t judge you,” Leah smiled, “Are you heading home for the night? I’d be happy to walk with you since it’s so dark.”

(Y/n) took a moment to think about it before nodding shyly and motioning Leah closer. Leah happily obliged walking alongside the farmer into the Cindersap Forest. The walk was mostly silent, but that was to be expected nonetheless, Leah was having a great time. They had even found a couple of leeks along the way which (Y/n) had insisted Leah keep. All too soon, they reached the porch of the old farmhouse.

“You’re crops look great,” Leah complimented, looking for an excuse to stay even just a few minutes more, “really healthy. What all have you been growing? Are those potatoes and turnips?”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder as she unlocked her door. Her eyes focused on where Leah was pointing and nodded affirmingly.

“Yeah, I’m no farmer but I love foraging. I’ve got a few really good books about wild foods and where to find them and when. It’s kind of like a scavenger hunt.” Leah grinned.

“Mhmm.”

It was quiet, a little strained, but the small hum of agreement almost sent Leah into cardiac arrest. She sounded so sweet! Leah’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how widely she was smiling.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. So, I’ll see you around?”

(Y/n) looked like she wanted to say something, but settled for a simple nod, fiddling with the gardening gloves she had taken off. Leah smiled softly, watching how the farmer intently eyed the fabric twisting in her hands.

“Feel free to drop by the cottage whenever it suits you. I’ll leave the door open!” Leah added, waving over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. (Y/n) beamed, looking a bit more lively as she waved back.

Leah turned her back on the house and walked back to her cottage in the Cindersaps with a skip in her step and a painfully large smile on her face. Although it was already late, she prepared a new block of wood for sculpting. Her new muse had granted her a vision for a grand project and had the potential to be one of her greatest works yet.

***

“Kel, I told you to stop calling me. I’m not coming back to the city, we are through.” Leah frowned, her hand gripped the phone receiver so tightly that she could hear the plastic giving slightly under the pressure.

She was so focused on combating Kel’s useless bargains that she hadn’t noticed the timid farmer show herself in, looking at Leah’s tense shoulders and back with concern. (Y/n) flinched as Leah cut off Kel to speak again, her voice low and stern.

“There is nothing you could say, nothing you could offer me, that would make me come back. Move on, and please, for the last time, do not call me again.” Leah slammed the phone down on its perch. Pressing her palms into her eyes she let out a frustrated groan, slowly positioning her hands to rub at her temples to combat the headache she felt coming on.

Then she heard the door creak.

Leah quickly turned around just in time to see (Y/n) looking back at her with wide eyes and lips pursed thin as if she had been caught witnessing an event she had no business seeing. Which was partially true, but Leah had told her a week beforehand that she could drop by anytime.

“(Y/n), what a pleasant surprise!” Leah grimaced, watching (Y/n) flinch and look down sheepishly at her feet. One had managed to retreat back out the door before being caught and it was slowly joined by the intruding foot, so (Y/n) was fully outside again. Leah shook her head and calmly approached the farmer.

“Please don’t leave, I’m the one who told you to come let yourself in whenever. I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.” Leah was worried, watching (Y/n) linger in the doorway. Her shoulders relaxed when (Y/n) cautiously came back inside and closed the door behind her.

(Y/n) stood in the entryway and looked over Leah, her eyes filled heavily with concern. She raised a hand, pointing to Leah before signing the letters ‘o’ and ‘k’.

“I’m okay. I’m just,” Leah fumbled for the right words, “mad, sad? Exhausted.”

(Y/n) made another gesture, shaping her fingers into a ‘hang loose’-esque sign. Her curled fingers meeting her chin. She lowered the hand momentarily to give it a controlled shake before bringing it back up into the starting position.

“What’s wrong?” Leah mumbled, making sure she understood. (Y/n) nodded. “I just got a phone call from someone I didn’t want to talk to is all,” Leah sighed, “They’re an ex of mine. The person who called.” Leah disclosed, rubbing the back of her neck, agitated.

(Y/n) signed again, but Leah didn’t quite catch it that time so she motioned (Y/n) over to her dining nook and sat her down with some paper and a pencil. The farmer seemed a bit unwilling to write it out, feeling like it was more insensitive somehow but with a little prodding from Leah, she gave in.

“Was it a bad break up...” Leah read aloud. She sat back in her chair and carefully chose her words. “Sometimes it feels like we’re still breaking up,” Leah chuckled wryly, “Kel, my ex, didn’t like me perusing art. They didn’t think I could make a living out of it and wanted me to waste away at some office job and well, I didn’t want that. They weren’t respectful or supportive of my dreams, so I left. They call me a lot though, to try to convince me to come back to the city... that I won’t make it as an artist. That I can’t be happy without them. It really is exhausting and the worst part is, I worry that they’re right.” Leah released a shuddering breath, “I haven’t sold a single piece. I don’t really even know how to start. I can sustain myself on what I have in my savings account for only so long.”

(Y/n) covered Leah’s hand with her own, squeezing it. Leah marveled at how soft it was in comparison to her own, especially since it was the hand of a farmer. Perhaps the gloves (Y/n) always wore had more practical uses rather than simply being worn for aesthetic’s sake. Leah chanced a look at (Y/n)’s face and was caught off guard by the determined fire blazing in her eyes. Then Leah’s attention was brought back to the table as (Y/n) furiously scratched the pencil against the paper and forcefully pushed her newly composed message in front of the sculptor, her other hand still rooted over Leah’s.

Leah read over the note and felt her heart ache with appreciative warmth. ‘You were brave enough to know what you wanted and even though it wasn’t easy, you went for it. That in itself is an amazing accomplishment that you should not take lightly. Your dream is not unfounded either, I’ve seen some of your sketches and paintings and I think you are very talented. Once you figure out how to put yourself out there you’ll have people begging you to take their money.’

Leah sniffed and smiled at (Y/n) appreciatively, turning her hand to reciprocate (Y/n)’s strong, yet gentle hold on her. “Thank you, (Y/n). I just wish I knew how to start.”

(Y/n) tapped her chin with the pencil as she thought. When she had an idea, she pulled the paper back to herself and wrote a suggestion.

“An art show? Oh, I don’t know (Y/n). It hardly seems possible.”

(Y/n) shook her head in disagreement and wrote more.

“You really think the town would want to help? Are you sure you want to help? You’ve got enough on your plate already with how busy the farm keeps you. I don’t want to impose.”

(Y/n) looked as if she had something to say, her throat bobbed and her lips twitched, but in the end she settled for the paper again, still too anxious to speak. After Leah had read the reply, she felt (Y/n)’s thumb rub against her knuckles and looked up. (Y/n) nodded, her expression serious. She wanted to help Leah with this.

“Thank you, (Y/n)!” Leah sniffled, holding back tears. She launched herself into (Y/n)’s arms and hugged the surprised farmer close. “Thank you so much!”

(Y/n) slowly returned the hug, smoothing one of her hands over Leah’s back in comforting motions. It was a bit of an awkward position with (Y/n) still sitting at the table and Leah hovering over her, but it felt nice.

“Sorry,” Leah chuckled after a moment, leaning back and wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I kind of caught you off guard with that didn’t I?”

(Y/n) shrugged and smiled good naturedly. A look came over her face as if she just remembered something and she stood up to grab her bag from the cottage entryway. She grinned when she found what she was looking for and made her way back to Leah, holding out a brown paper package to her.

“For me?” Leah asked. (Y/n) nodded and gestured for her to take it. Leah carefully unwrapped it and gasped. “(Y/n), is this goat cheese? I love this, how did you know?”

(Y/n) raised her hand, signing the letters ‘E’ ‘L’ ‘L’ ‘I’ ‘O’ ‘T’ ‘T’.

“Elliott hm?” Leah laughed, “I’m glad you two are getting along after the horseradish debacle.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. She wasn’t looking back on the memory fondly.

“Hey, I’m with you on this one. He was being an ass. How could you have known he hated horseradish.”

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, one of her hands reaching out as if to say, ‘exactly’. She then noticed the time on Leah’s clock and signed that she had to go.

“I see.” Leah smiled sadly, trying not to let her disappointment shine through. “Good bye then, and (Y/n),” Leah signed ‘thank you’, very mindful of the position of her hands this time around, “seriously thank you for everything.”

(Y/n) beamed, giving Leah a thumbs up before heading out the door.

***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Leah kept mumbling to herself while watching her fellow Pelican Townies set up her creations in the town square. There were already some tourists looking around and Leah felt her nerves fraying.

“Hang in there, kid. Everything looks great. Don’t worry so much.” Robin snuck up on Leah, making her jump. “It’s a beautiful summer day, don’t forget to enjoy it.”

“I’m trying, Robin. It’s just so much.” Leah said, nervously playing with her sleeve. Robin noticed Elliott walking up and motioned him to help deal with the artist while she went to help Demetrius move a heavy wooden sculpture.

“Come on now, Leah. Too late to back out now.” Elliott grinned, thumping her back. “(Y/n) seems especially excited by how things are progressing.”

Leah chanced a glance at (Y/n) and Maru putting up paintings between signing each other excitedly. The scene warmed her heart and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”

“Great, now let’s go woo some tourists.” Elliott said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What? Elliott, no!” Leah shook her head.

“Not like that,” Elliott laughed, “I know your heart belongs to someone else. I just meant,” he looks around before whispering in Leah’s ear, “woo them out of their money.”

Leah laughed and pushed Elliott away. “Alright, you focus on the wooing and I’ll focus on explaining my thought processes.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun, but okay, this is your day.”

As Elliot and Leah made their way across the square, an unwelcome guest watched them from afar. Their blood boiled as they saw Leah pause at the makeshift painting gallery to give the farmer’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

***

“I can’t believe we sold so many!” Leah spoke in ecstatic disbelief as she waved at the last car she and (Y/n) had just loaded a heavy wooden sculpture into before it drove away. “This is crazy!”

(Y/n) wore a smile that matched Leah’s, happy to watch the sculptor bouncing in place. When Leah finally stilled, still giddy, she took both of (Y/n)’s hands in hers. Once again free of the gloves, the hands were pleasantly soft against her own and she relished in the feeling.

“(Y/n) I know it’s kind of late, but I have something I want to give to you. I left it at my house so I’m going to go get it. I’ll meet you at the farm, is that alright?”

(Y/n) stared at Leah, her curiosity piqued. She nodded, easily giving Leah the answer she was hoping for.

“Great! I’ll be there soon!” With one last squeeze of the farmer’s hands, she was off. (Y/n) heard the crack of a twig, but when she turned to investigate, nothing stood out so she made her way back to her farm to wait for Leah.

When Leah came up to the porch, (Y/n) had to do a double take at the big wooden statue she was lugging along. With one last huff of air, Leah placed the statue at the base of the steps and grinned up at (Y/n), wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

“Thanks for waiting. It was a little more ah, heavy, than I expected.” Leah laughed sheepishly. “Come take a look.”

(Y/n) stepped off the porch and circled the piece, taking in every detail. Leah felt nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach while she watched the farmer scrutinize the work and cleared her throat.

“I started working on it in the spring. I also incorporated some of that driftwood you gave me a few weeks ago. Anyway, I made it with you in mind. It’s called, ‘How I Feel about (Y/n)’ and I’d be honored if you would accept it as a gift for everything you’ve done for me.” Leah stared at her feet as she spoke, too embarrassed to keep her eyes on (Y/n) while she spoke. Then a pair of boots joined, hands came up to clasp her own, pulling the conjoined grasp into her line of vision and coaxing her to look up into (Y/n)’s eyes.

“It’s wonderful.”

At that moment, Leah thought her heart must have been beating so hard that it was affecting her hearing.

“Hh... huh?” Leah asked, rather dumbly.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and whispered, “It’s wonderful, Leah. Thank you.”

Leah looked absolutely awestruck, purple irises shone with excitement and she laughed, pulling (Y/n) into a tight embrace.

“I’m glad you like it.” Leah sniffled, resting her face in (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Leah?” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around the artist, it was only one word, her name, but Leah heard the concern in the farmer’s tone.

“I’m okay. I’m just happy,” Leah sniffled again, “I’m happy you felt comfortable enough with me to speak to me.”

“Me too.” (Y/n) whispered, holding Leah tighter.

The pair found it difficult when they had to part ways for the night, but they were equally excited over how their relationship was developing, looking forward to spending more time together over the summer.

***

“Come on, just a little further...” Leah coached herself. She was reaching for a piece of fruit hanging from a branch just out of her reach.

She had planned a picnic with (Y/n) for this afternoon. She had already set up under the big old tree near the pond and as she waited for (Y/n) to finish up with her crops and animals for the morning, when she spotted the unusual fruit. Now she was jumping and stretching for the fruit just out of reach.

“Almost— Ah!” Leah struggled to balance herself in the air, swiveling her head to peak over her shoulder, she saw (Y/n) looking up at her with a mischievous grin. Leah rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the side of her lips. She turned back to the task at hand and grabbed the fruit, motioning (Y/n) to put her back down.

“Show off.” Leah scoffed, lightly punching (Y/n)’s shoulder. “You wanna try a bite?”

“Yes, please.” (Y/n)’s cheeks heated when Leah pressed the fruit to her lips. She took a bite of the offering, savoring the taste. “It’s so sweet.” She said, amazed.

“Right?” Leah smiled, “It’s rare to get fruit from this tree. Usually all the animals snap it all up as soon as they’re ripe, but it seems they miss some from time to time. How is everything with the farm this morning?”

“All is well,” (Y/n) nodded as the pair made themselves comfortable on the blanket Leah had set up, “I would have been here sooner but the goats kept standing in front of my cheese and mayo machines, the chicken coup too. Made it a little difficult.” (Y/n) disclosed. “Which reminds me,” she rummaged through her bag, “goat cheese salads.”

“Mmm, this looks heavenly. Thank you for making these.” Leah said, eagerly stirring in some vinaigrette into the generous fresh salad.

“No problem. Selling my harvest is nice, but it feels so much more rewarding enjoying it like this.” (Y/n) informed, mixing her own salad.

“I can imagine,” Leah hummed and leaned her back fully against the trunk of the tree, “Ah, it’s such a lovely day for this.”

“Mhmm.”

They ate the rest of their meal in peaceful silence, listening to the birds sing and the fish leap, the breeze rustling the trees and grass around them. It was tranquil, it was perfect.

“Hey, Leah,” (Y/n) spoke, breaking the silence.

“Yes?�� Leah asked, turning her gaze away from the sketch pad she had brought out.

“It’s almost Fall you know, we’ve known each other for nearly two whole seasons. Half a year, it’s crazy, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, doesn’t it?” Leah giggled, “What made you think of that?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you something. Don’t feel like you have to answer one way or the other, but...” (Y/n) paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Hey, it’s okay (Y/n). You can tell me anything. Sign it out if you want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just nervous,” (Y/n) turned to her bag and pulled out a lovely bouquet of flowers, “Leah, would you maybe consider being my girlfriend?“

“Yes!” Leah enveloped (Y/n) in a tackle like hug that sent them both to fully meet the ground, accidentally crushing the flowers between their bodies, “Oops, sorry,” Leah wiggled the flowers out from under her to look at them more closely, “these are lovely, (Y/n). I didn’t know Pierre had these in yet.”

“He didn’t, I planted them.” (Y/n) clarified, smiling up at Leah who still hovered over her, giggling.

“Of course you did, you’re so sweet.”

“I try.”

“Are you kidding me!”

Leah and (Y/n) quickly turned to face the disturbance, scrambling to sit up from their compromising position. Leah felt her stomach twist with discomfort seeing Kel of all people marching up to them, absolutely fuming.

“Seriously, what the hell, Leah?” Kel yelled, their hands clenched into tight fists as they closed in, making yard after yard disappear between them.

“No, more like what the hell, Kel? I broke up with you seasons ago. What are you even doing in Pelican Town?” Leah retorted angrily, as (Y/n) helped her to her feet. Kel watched the motion and ground their teeth.

They were already dangerously close to crossing the threshold of the blanket and that small display was enough to send them stomping over the edge.

“I came for you, obviously! I’ve been slumming it in that dusty old saloon since your art show, waiting to talk to you! Now I find you sucking face with some country bumpkin nobody!” They seethed, stepping even closer into Leah’s personal space until (Y/n) pulled Leah back behind her, making Kel even more incensed. “You stay out of this. I’m talking to Leah!”

(Y/n) held strong, stuck between the harsh obscenities attacking her from the front and the loving affirmations defending her from behind. She held her arm out, willing Kel to stay back as she slowly started to guide Leah back in the direction of town for help. Kel ignored the warning and followed after them.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? You think you’re being some kind of hero right now?” Kel seethed.

(Y/n) stayed silent, she had gone mute again and who would blame her in the face of such a tense situation? She was so very uncomfortable, scared even, but she continued on passed Marnie’s since she knew the woman wasn’t home at this time and she sure wasn’t going to expose Jas to this. Jodi’s house was their next best bet.

“Hey, you obviously want to start something here. You’ve got something to say to me?” Kel continued forward.

“Kel, leave us alone!” Leah commanded, “It’s over, it’s been over, go home!”

“You think you’re too good to talk to me?” Kel yelled, ignoring Leah. “She’s just a whore. She just latched onto the first warm body she could find after her little meltdown. You’re not special.”

(Y/n) froze stiffly in place, Leah felt the muscles on her shoulders tense so she tried to pull on her arm to keep her moving.

“Ignore them, (Y/n). Let’s focus on getting to town, okay?” Leah pleaded. But (Y/n) gently pushed off Leah’s hands and took a step towards Kel with a cold glare. Leah stepped to stand beside (Y/n)’s side, nervous that a more serious confrontation was about to unfold.

“Well?” Kel spat.

(Y/n) crossed her arms, turning her head to look at Leah. The look on her face was all the communication Leah needed to understand. It was definitely a, ‘they better back off or I’m going to knock them off their block’ face. Leah had never known (Y/n) to be particularly violent, but with all the time she spent in the mines, she had no doubt that she could take care of herself.

Leah gasped when Kel suddenly roared, lunging forward. Apparently they had not liked how (Y/n) and Leah had been paying attention to each other rather than themself. Kel had rocketed forward and aimed to punch (Y/n) hard over her cheek, however, at the last moment, Leah pushed her aside and took the blow for her.

(Y/n) inhaled sharply and caught Leah as she stumbled back, noticing how blood immediately began gushing from Leah’s now broken nose.

“Ow- AH!” Leah cried, her hands muffled her voice since she had covered her nose and mouth.

It only took a second for (Y/n) to return the favor to Kel’s stunned face. She punched them fast and hard over their cheek, but Kel was quick to fight back and now it was a full out brawl.

“What’s going on, we heard yelling— holy shit!”

Leah turned away from the fight to see Sam, Seb, and Abigail running up on the scene.

“(Y/n)’s throwing hands!” Abigail yelled, sounding way more excited than worried.

“Leah are you okay? What’s going on?” Sebastian asked, noting the concerning amount of blood running down Leah’s arms and the front of her shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, stop them!” Leah winced, taking one hand away from her face to motion to her ex and her new girlfriend still going at each other.

“Damn, Abi! Go get your dad and Harvey too by the looks of it!” Sam yelled, he seemed to be looking for an opening to push the fighters apart.

“Are you kidding? You get my dad, I’m getting in on this!” Abigail cheered and ran up to jump on Kel’s back like she was at a rodeo while (Y/n) landed a good hit on Kel’s stomach. “Nice punch, (Y/n)!”

“Oh Yoba, Sam, start running.” Seb suggested, trying to help Leah with her nose. He was no Maru, but even he knew how to set a broken nose. Especially within the first couple weeks of Sam taking up skateboarding.

“Right!” Sam ran off back into town screaming. A few tense minutes later and Pierre, Caroline, Robin, Elliott, Maru and Harvey came running behind Sam to break up the fight.

“Abigail, stop!” Pierre huffed, pulling off his daughter and passing her off to his wife, “I taught you what I did to defend yourself, not to lash out like a wild animal!” He grunted, pulling Kel into his grasp and trapping their arms behind their back with Elliott coming up to assist.

“Come on dad, I was helping a friend! What’s the big deal?” Abi groaned, while her mom fretted over her, looking for injuries.

“Easy there kid, it’s over.” Robin coaxed (Y/n), pulling her back. The farmer slumped over in the carpenter’s hold, breathing heavily.

“Is (Y/n) okay? Ah!” Leah hissed as Harvey touched up her nose, giving her a nasal spray before wedging a couple wads of tissue up her nostrils.

“Sorry, Leah.” Harvey sympathized, “Maru is going to check up on her now.”

“What about me?” Kel hissed. Pierre had them resting on their knees. They looked really roughed up. A black eye was already forming and scratches and bruises littered their skin, they were also holding their stomach rather tightly.

“You’ll just have to wait a minute.” Elliott frowned, staring down at the stranger with contempt.

“Don’t you have any police officers in this backwater town? I’ll sue every one of you for withholding care to someone who is obviously hurt!” Kel threatened, grinding their teeth.

“Oh, the police are coming alright!”  Caroline spoke indignantly. “You are in no position to be asking for anything right now, bringing violence to our community, you should be ashamed!”

“(Y/n) can you look up for me, please.” Maru asked, carefully tilting (Y/n)’s chin up. (Y/n) sucked in a breath when Maru touched her bruised jaw a tad to hard. “Sorry, Your jaw is bruised pretty badly. Your bottom lip split too. How is your vision?”

(Y/n) shook her head and winced, cradling her head in her hands.

“Okay, possible concussion. We’ll need to observe her at the clinic.” Maru said.

“Alright, come on bruiser,” Robin grunted, heaving (Y/n) to her feet, “Sebbie, help me walk her into town please.”

“Sure mom.” Seb took (Y/n)’s other side.

(Y/n) patted Robin’s arm, motioning her to wait. She slowly turned to Kel and leaned more heavily against Seb as she freed her other arm from Robin to snap her fingers aggressively, looking for Kel’s attention. Once Kel looked up at her, sneering from their spot in the dirt, (Y/n) turned briefly to make sure Leah was watching. When she saw that she was, she smiled as if to say, ‘watch this,’ and turned back to Kel. (Y/n) brought her flat, angled hand below her chin and sent it forward in the direction of Kel’s confused, but no less, pissed face.

“Oh ho! (Y/n) is such a badass!” Abigail laughed.

“Abi, since when do you know sign language?” Sam asked, clearly confused.

“I don’t, but I’ve spent enough time searching curses in different languages to know that was totally a ‘fuck you’. Personally I think a middle finger approach would have been an appropriate classic myself but whatever.” Abigail shrugged.

“Abigail, language!” Caroline scolded.

“Sorry mom.”

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Clinic, now.” Robin tried to hold in a laugh as she repositioned (Y/n)’s arm over her shoulder. Then she and Seb began walking (Y/n) back into town.

Leah made to follow, but as they were leaving, the police from the the next town over had arrived and they needed her statements as a witness. Never mind that she was covered in her own blood and her girlfriend was being dragged away to the clinic with a concussion. Once the officers were satisfied, they took Kel away with promises to be back for (Y/n)’s statement and to see if any charges would be made. For now they were just going to take Kel back to a hospital in Zuzu City since they may have broken a rib or two in the fight. After that, they were going to be free to go.

Leah wasn’t too worried. She didn’t think Kel would come back after the beating (Y/n) and Abigail gave them. She watched the police car drive out of Cindersaps, taking her disgruntled ex away.

“Leah, I’m sure you want to get to the clinic but you should really clean up first.” Caroline had said patting the younger woman’s back. “(Y/n) will be fine.”

“Yeah, Harvey and Maru got her. Take some time to process.” Elliott smiled.

Leah could only nod tiredly. She trudged over to her cottage to shower and change. She still couldn’t believe how quickly things got out of hand. She looked at her bandaged nose in the mirror, hissing when she gingerly touched the bridge of it. She was wary of Seb setting it himself, but Harvey said he had gone a great job. Once she was physically put back together, Leah quickly made her way to the clinic.

“Where is she?” She asked immediately upon arriving. She sounded a little congested thanks to her clogged nose, but she was easily understood. Robin was still in the waiting room and filled her in.

“Harvey and Maru are talking her through concussion care. She’s okay, but I don’t think she’ll be allowed to work for awhile.”

“Oh no,” Leah sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and covered her eyes with her hands, “This is all my fault.”

“Aw, don’t say that sweetheart. You know that’s not true.” Robin frowned, taking a seat beside her, “(Y/n) would hate to hear you think like that.”

“(Y/n) loves her farm! If she can’t maintain the upkeep...” Leah continued, teary eyed, only to be silenced by Robin.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Nothing is going to happen to the farm. Abi, Sam, and even Seb already told (Y/n) in no uncertain terms that they were going to pitch in while she recovers. Everything is going to be taken care of.” Robin assured.

“Still none of this would have happened if-“

“If you hadn’t broken up with your ex? Moved to Pelican Town? Got a crush? Leah, you can’t punish yourself for moving on with your life. You’re allowed to be happy.” Robin chided gently. “It was hard for me and Sebastian’s father to see eye to eye at the best of times. Now I have Demetrius and although he can be a bit annoying sometimes with his tomato bullshit, not a day goes by that I’m not grateful I took that first step because I love him.” Robin smiled.

Leah’s nose hurt like hell as she tried to carefully wipe the tears from her eyes and Robin rubbed her back affectionately. Once Leah had calmed down, Robin stood and stretched.

“She’s been wondering where you are. The doc is keeping her for overnight observation, but your welcome to stay with her. I on the other hand, am apparently too old for this much excitement and need to go home.”

“Thank you Robin, for talking to me.”

“Anytime,” Robin grinned, “now go get her.”

Leah made her way into the back area of the clinic and nearly ran up to Harvey, Maru, and (Y/n). (Y/n) was signing to Maru while she relayed the information to Harvey as he examined (Y/n)’s well being.

(Y/n) was relieved to see Leah and eagerly motioned her to come sit on the edge of the bed she was sitting in which Leah did happily.

“Leah, how’s the nose?” Harvey asked while he finished up (Y/n)’s chart.

“It’s fine. Just, really sore and tingly.”

“So not fine.” Maru chuckled. “I’ll get you some pain meds.”

“Ah, thanks Maru.” Leah smiled sheepishly.

“Well, Ms. (Y/n),” Harvey sighed, turning his attention back to the farmer, “you and I are in for a long night. I’ll be waking you up every hour to check your pupils to see if your condition changes at all.” Harvey stood and stretched, “Ms. Leah, feel welcome to stay as long as you like. It can’t hurt to keep an extra pair of eyes on her.”

“I could stay overtime, Harvey.” Maru said as she came back with two pills and a glass of water for Leah.

“I seem to recall you talking about a time sensitive experiment this morning.” Harvey recalled, making Maru smack the side of her head. “You’re right! I got to go now! Good night everyone!” Maru called behind her as she rushed out to the waiting room then out of the building.

“I’m going to take the first of my many naps lined up for tonight. I’ll see you ladies in about an hour. Try to get some rest.” Harvey said before leaving to walk up the stairs to his apartment.

Finally Leah and (Y/n) were alone again. (Y/n) sunk down into the covers and sighed deeply. She turned to face Leah, concerning the sculptor by how small she looked.

“You’re not too upset with me, are you?” (Y/n) asked, surprising Leah.

“I’m not upset with you. Why would I be upset with you?”

“I just beat the crap out a person. Sure they are your ex, but you cared about them at some point so it must have been hard to watch. I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.” (Y/n) whispered, she was so quiet Leah had to lean closer and even then she was straining to hear.

“(Y/n), I like you. Nothing that happened today changed how much I like you. It certainly didn’t make me like you any less,” Leah rested her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek, “Kel made their choice when they decided to come to Pelican Town and confront us. I wish it hadn’t gone down the way it did, but that’s not our fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too. I was worried.”

“I wish we could start this day all over,” Leah moaned, “First day as official girlfriends and we get into a fist fight.”

(Y/n) laughed lightly, closing her eyes to combat the pain that came from her jostling. “Abigail thought it was a pretty great date activity.”

“She would think that.” Leah rolled her eyes, “she also eats rocks.”

“Well, think about it this way. Until I’m allowed to take up all my farming duties again, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Whatever I want, hmm?” Leah tapped her lips with her index finger, “would it be to forward if me to ask for a kiss?”

“You may, just be careful with my split lip. I won’t be able to explain what happened to Harvey if you make it worse.” (Y/n) said.

“One gentle kiss, coming right up.” Leah wiggled on the bed’s stiff hospital sheets until she laid face to face with (Y/n). Their lips met in a soft brushing that was almost ghost like, but rather than leaving them with a chill, warmth bloomed between them.

“Wow.” (Y/n) grinned.

“If you thought that was good, wait until I can get more involved with it.”

“So confident. I like it.” (Y/n) squinted, “could you turn the light off? It’s really starting to hurt my eyes.”

“Of course.” Leah got up and switched off the half the lights to keep their side of the room in darkness but allow Harvey to still be able to see when he came back.

“Now come cuddle, please.” (Y/n) asked sleepily reaching her arms out.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Leah kicked off her boots and shimmied under the sheets to join (Y/n) and wrapped her arms around her. Leah let the exhaustion of the day roll over her and she had nearly let sleep claim her before her eyes shot open and she propped herself up on her elbow to lean over (Y/n).

“Did I really sign a ‘fuck you’ when we first met?!” She asked, appalled.

(Y/n)’s response was to laugh sleepily into Leah’s chest.

[gojo-x-reader]

Not So Special Now

Relationship(s): F!Reader x Gojo Satoru

Warnings: canon-typical violence

Tags: fluff (at the end), reader-focused

AO3 Link: here

Words: ~4k

Request: “hello there, i love ur soulmate and marriage life hc 🥺 can you make scenario/hc/drabble whatever u prefer where his fem/gn so is also a sorcerer and gets hurt/injured on a mission? thank you!”

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” Your boyfriend, Satoru, asked you. His hands were on your biceps, giving it a worried, yet comforting squeeze.

“Yes, Satoru,” you answered, a little annoyed at how he was treating you. It’s been several years since either of you were in high school; this wasn’t your first mission.

“I can’t help but worry, you know. It’s your first ever special grade assignment.”

“Just because I’m not the same rank as you, Mr. Special Grade, doesn’t mean I’m weak. Besides, there are two others going so I’m not doing this alone.”

“I know, I know.” Satoru pressed his lips gently onto your forehead, then gazed into your eyes lovingly. In a rare instance while on the job, his blindfold was replaced with dark sunglasses. You reached up to shift them down, allowing you to gaze into his bright blue eyes. They were breathtaking no matter how many times you saw them. You moved your hands from his glasses to his shoulders, forcing him down so you could reach up to leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you promised.

The two of you embraced one more time before you joined your other group members for the mission. You turned back and waved at him as the three of you entered the car to be driven to the location for your mission.

“Sure wish Gojo-san was coming with us,” one of them mused. “He could handle this mission single-handedly and we could just stay home.” He sighed deeply, then put in headphones and stared out the window.

“Why isn’t he taking this mission?” your other group member asked. She stared at you, eager to know.

You had just met these two today (not even knowing their names, except that they were both Grade 1 sorcerers like you) and you weren’t sure how well this mission would go. “Well,” you began, “for one, he works best alone. Second, Satoru fights best when he’s away from civilians.” 

The girl hummed, then crossed her arms in thought. The three of you awkwardly rode in silence for about five minutes, before the girl grabbed your arm suddenly. “Soooo, how long have you been dating Gojo Satoru?” She asked eagerly. There was something about her that seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

You weren’t sure why this was any business of someone you just met, but you decided to indulge her to hopefully make this awkward car ride, well, less awkward.

“Two years, almost three,” you answered. The two of you had known each other since high school, but it wasn’t until almost four years ago that you had reconnected after you moved back to Tokyo, and almost three years ago when you started dating. To this day you still had no clue why he would get a crush on you over all people. There were much prettier girls he had spent more time with, why you?

“Annnnd? A ring soon?” She gushed, gripping your arm harder.

You shrugged. Satoru and you had discussed marriage at some point, but both of you were busy at the moment, especially with Ryomen Sukuna being somewhat revived into the world. While Yuuji was still technically “dead” to others, Satoru had trusted you enough to tell you about how his student had pretty much been revived from the dead. On your days off, you often visited your boyfriend and helped out with Yuuji’s training regime. He was a nice kid, despite his circumstances and being thrown into the jujutsu world suddenly.

The girl let go of your arm and got out her phone, furiously typing to someone. “Oh, my little sister won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Little sister?”

“Yeah, my sister Momo goes to Kyoto. She’s pretty close with another girl, Kasumi, who I consider almost like another younger sister. She was super excited to meet Gojo-san a week ago. She’s like a superfan of him or something. I like to indulge her sometimes. I think she even made a fan club for Gojo-san or something. Anyways, Momo, even though she’s friends with Kasumi, she often gets annoyed with her talk about Gojo-san.”

You vaguely remember Satoru mentioning a girl from Kyoto that asked him for a picture. It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for your boyfriend to be asked to take pictures with, from the jujutsu world or from civilians; he had devastatingly good looks, so you couldn’t blame any of the people who asked for pictures. Besides, you knew his heart belonged to you and you only, so you were fine with others recognizing his allure.

“Oh, Kasumi’s calling me,” the girl said. She answered her phone, only for a younger voice to scream over the speaker. It was loud enough that you could hear it. Your teammate held her phone away from her ear.

“What do you mean he has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, come on Kasumi. You know how handsome he is. Besides, he’s like, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine in December,” you confirmed.

“Way too old for you, ma’am,” the girl relayed to Kasumi.

“I don’t like him like that , Sumi-san! I j-just really admire him, okay! W-Who wouldn’t? World’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer in all.”

“Mhm. Anyway, I’ve got a mission today with the said girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. Want me to get you an autograph?” Sumi joked.

“...Could you?”

You let out a tiny laugh. This girl was funny, so you decided to humor her and leaned toward the phone. “One autograph for Kasumi?”

“M-Miwa Kasumi!” the voice on the phone squeaked out. She told you what kanji made up her name as you rummaged for a scrap piece of paper and pen from your bag. You made out the autograph, laughing a bit as you handed it to Sumi.

After you told her you signed an autograph for her, Kasumi said goodbye, hanging up the phone before Sumi could reply goodbye back. She seemed embarrassed about the ordeal.

“You were right, she seems like a good kid.”

“Kasumi is nice. She really balances out how serious my little sister Momo is,” Sumi responded.

For the rest of the car ride, you and Sumi chatted. Apparently, this was also her first Special Grade mission, as well as her first mission after graduating from Kyoto. Their other group member was also from Kyoto; he was two years Sumi’s senior. His name was Takahashi Daisuke. She didn’t know much about him since he tended to keep to himself. But she did know this wasn’t his first Special Grade mission. That relieved you substantially since you were nervous about this mission (as much as you didn’t want to admit to Satoru).

Eventually, the roads transformed from paved to just dirt. The driver turned onto a road on a hill, then began briefing the three of you on your mission. This was a Special Grade, suspected to be awakened by a Sukuna finger. This was just based on speculation, since the last Special Grade to pop up was from a Sukuna finger as well. The Special Grade had taken over an abandoned shrine, supposedly terrorizing the local village just down the hill (which had been evacuated just hours before). As the driver parked the car, the three of you exited the car. The air was crisp, with a distinct chill in the air. You could sense a particularly strong cursed energy in the premises, on par with Satoru’s cursed energy. You shuddered; this was not going to be an easy task.

The driver placed a curtain around the area, the sky darkening. It only made the situation seem even more grave. There was something in your gut telling you to run, not from being scared of the Special Grade, but because something bad was going to happen.

Sumi grabbed a wand from her belt. Her family was a pretty small sorcerer family on her mother’s side, as she had told you in the car. She and her sister have cursed techniques similar to “witches”; hers involved spells while her sister’s involved levitating a broom, among other objects.

Your cursed techniques, however, involved nature. There was a reason why you were selected specifically for this mission; the shrine was in the middle of the forest, the perfect place for you to go wild. Cities like Tokyo were incredibly constraining for you to use your cursed techniques, so you almost exclusively were assigned missions out in the country where nature was plentiful.

Neither you nor Sumi knew what Daisuke’s cursed technique was, but you assumed it was pretty strong considering he had been on missions with Special Grades before.

The mission started off fine. The three of you approached the shrine. It wasn’t particularly impressive, nothing that you would expect to house a Special Grade curse. The stone torii at the entrance was standing tall, unbothered by neither age nor the moss and vines growing on it. The shrine itself, however, was crumbling. One of the pillars holding up the roof was destroyed, so the roof was lopsided. The shimenawa knots were cut in half, the ends completely frayed. Definitely not a good sign.

After crossing the torii , you felt the Special Grade’s presence. It was overwhelming, unlike anything else you had experienced before. It possessed near-equal amounts of cursed energy as Satoru, but unlike your boyfriend, it held malicious intent within its cursed energy. To your left, Sumi was shaking. You held out a shaky hand onto her shoulder and squeezed. While you yourself didn’t feel confident about this mission now, you had a duty as the oldest member of the group here to be strong, for their sake.

The shrine began to shake, then the roof was suddenly blown off. You used your cursed technique to form a barrier of tree roots that erupted from the ground. Slabs of wood hit the roots, then bounced off. After the rain of wood subsided, you controlled the roots back into the ground in their original position.

You finally got a good look at the Special Grade curse. It was humanoid, but only in form. Its flesh was midnight blue, with eyes covering every centimeter of its body. Great, it had no blind spots. The curse had no apparent mouth, yet you were able to hear it let out an intimidating roar.

Daisuke made the first strike. He quickly pointed a handgun at the Special Grade and pulled the trigger. Out came a burst of his own cursed energy instead of a bullet. The blow just grazed the Special Grade enough for it to let out a screech of pain. Interesting, so this was his cursed energy. You wondered if it was limited to guns, or if he could apply it to a bow as well and use his cursed energy for arrows. You’d have to ask him later after this mission was completed.

It was apparent after Daisuke revealed his cursed technique that all of you were primarily distance fighters. There wasn’t much Sumi could do if her cursed technique focused on spells through her wand apparatus and Daisuke seemed to only have a gun on him. So, that meant you had to switch to a melee approach.

You weren’t the biggest fan of hand to hand combat. You weren’t very strong, preferring to assist from a distance. Recently, Satoru has been helping you learn new ways of fighting in close quarters. You decided to take the risk and make an attempt at using this still relatively new technique. You reached out your hands, summoning leaves from the trees. They surrounded your fists like boxing gloves, your cursed energy reinforcing the leaves to be almost as hard as the bark from the trees they came from.

You sprinted toward the Special Grade, preparing to land a blow. As you reared back for a punch, the Special Grade disappeared from in front of you. Then you felt a blow land on your back and you were sent through the forest until a particularly thick tree stopped your projectile body. Luckily, you reacted quickly enough to reinforce your front with cursed energy. If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, you probably would’ve been knocked out immediately.

You picked yourself up from the ground, but the world was spinning. You leaned against a tree to collect your thoughts and rest a bit. The Special Grade was insanely fast and had no blind spots. You were panicking; this was well out of your skillset. Perhaps Daisuke was right; Satoru should’ve joined in on this mission. But you knew that wasn’t possible, as he also had his own Special Grade mission to handle today.

You brought a hand up to your face and gave yourself a hard smack. This was no time to doubt yourself or panic. You had two comrades out there fighting a Special Grade curse alone. There was no doubt that the Special Grade would notice you if you tried to rejoin the fight, at least on the ground. Your best bet would be to get the high ground; there would be fewer eyes on the top half, so the chances of you being noticed would be less than if you arrived by foot.

Okay, you had an idea. Now, to get an idea of how the fight was going. You kneeled down to the ground and placed your hand onto the ground, closing your eyes. You sent a minimal, hardly detectable pulse of cursed energy toward the fight through the ground. From what nature informed you, the fight was mostly one-sided in favor of the Special Grade. Daisuke was pretty beat up, and Sumi wasn’t in good shape either.

You got up then hurriedly began climbing the nearest tree. As you climbed up, you manipulated the bark to form grooves for you to place your hands and feet on. As you reached a decent height, you created a bridge with the overlapping tree branches sturdy enough for your weight. You sprinted across the bridge, ignoring your double vision. You definitely had a concussion, but now was not the time for you to worry about that. You didn’t wanna lose your comrades on this mission. Not again.

You wiped the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. In your final year of Tokyo High, your two classmates were killed right before your eyes on a mission. You escaped out of pure luck, but was determined to get stronger to avenge their deaths. If you let those two die… well, then, that meant you hadn’t gotten strong enough to protect anyone else.

Once you were just out of sight range of the cursed spirit, you closed your eyes to sense the battle again. Sumi was sitting on the ground, back to a tree as she watched the fight between Daisuke and the Special Grade. She was barely conscious, and it seemed like she had lost a lot of blood. You had an idea, but in order for it to work, you needed her help.

Using thin vines, you sent a message within her sight: I am still alive. I’m going to trap the Special Grade curse with branches. Use a fire spell on it when it’s bound.

All you could hope was that she was able to read the message and had enough cursed energy to cast the spell. You began moving branches from distant trees close to the Special Grade, as fast as possible without your cursed energy being detected. Once they were close enough, you waited for the right moment.

As Daisuke finally landed a hit with his cursed energy, moving the curse to the center of the shrine remnants, you launched your attack. The branches extended as fast as you could make them move. The hit Daisuke landed had temporarily slowed the Special Grade, enough for your branches to immobilize it. As the branches gripped the curse, Sumi sent a fire spell toward it, just as planned.

The branches (and the cursed spirit) caught on fire. But something was wrong; normally, you could extract cursed energy from a curse with your cursed technique to exorcise, but that wasn’t happening. Was it resisting? You felt a tug on the branches.

Without thinking, you acted on your own. You re-equipped the leaves cursed technique, as you jumped from the trees above. As gravity brought you closer to the Special Grade, you reared back to prepare the punch you had wanted to introduce it to earlier. As your fist landed on the curse, you allowed the leaves to leave your fist, sending it into the curse’s body. The leaves caught on fire before they entered the curse, imploding it.

So, you managed to exorcise the Special grade. But, doing so took all of your cursed energy and you had no more left to cushion your fall. Luckily, you managed to adjust your fall so that you slid on your stomach parallel to the ground instead of falling headfirst. It still hurt, and you definitely broke a few ribs doing that.

You somehow had enough energy to turn yourself onto your back, looking up at the starry night sky as the curtain was released. Your first Special Grade mission. Everyone lived and you exorcised it without Satoru’s help. Ha. He would be so proud of you.

You began to fall into unconsciousness right as you felt familiar arms lift you up.

When you woke up, you were in Shoko’s infirmary. There was a thin blanket covering your bottom half. Suddenly the events came back to you.

You sat up, gasping for air. Where were Sumi and Daisuke?

“You might want to lay back down,” a familiar voice told you. “Shoko healed you, but the pain might still be there.”

You did as the voice said, laying back at the elevated position you woke up in. You look over and blinked a few times, seeing your boyfriend sitting in a chair next to your bed. He was in his work uniform, including his blindfold. You winced as you felt a pain in your chest; Satoru was right, there still was residual pain.

“I exorcised a Special Grade,” you croaked.

“I know. I’m proud of you.” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it, giving you a soft smile, showing off his tiny dimples. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he lectured, “However, what you did was risky and crazy.”

“Aren’t you the one who says that jujutsu sorcerers have to be crazy to survive?” you argued.

“Yes, but there’s a difference between crazy and throwing your life away.”

“You saw that?” you asked, much more awake than you were a few seconds ago.

“I hurried as fast as I could with my own mission to come assist you if you needed. I got there right as you pulled that stunt of yours.”

You pulled your hand from his and placed your face in both of your hands, embarrassed that he saw you launch yourself from several meters high, use up all of your cursed energy, then make a hard landing onto the ground.

“How’s the other two?” you asked, refusing to move your face from your hands.

“Alive and doing well. You’re the most beat-up out of everyone.”

You removed your hands, clasping them together in your lap. “Thank goodness…”

“There wasn’t a Sukuna finger either,” Satoru reported to you. “The villagers’ fear of the shrine must have caused it to grow to a Special Grade. Now, come on. Shoko said you could come home once you woke up.” Satoru stood up, then scooped you up from the bed. You screamed in protest, now wide awake.

“Wha--Put me down!”

“No can do, honey. Doctor’s orders. Nothing strenuous for the next week.”

“Satoru, I don’t think walking counts as strenuous!”

He smiled his signature shit-eating grin, then gave you a kiss on your forehead. No fair, he knew forehead kisses were your weakness. You melted into his arms at how tender his kiss was, now docile and less likely to argue with him.

In a flash, he teleported the two of you to his apartment, setting you on the bed in front of him. After placing you on the bed, he yanked off his blindfold and began rummaging through his dresser, looking for a set of his clothes for you to wear. He tossed the shirt and pants toward you, not even bothering to turn around while you changed. You’d been together for so long (or at least, it felt like a long time) that there wasn’t anything particularly embarrassing about changing in front of each other.

You winced while lifting your hands up to take off your shirt, so Satoru was by your side in an instant, helping you take off your shift without much pain. He even helped you out of your bra and put on his shirt.

“You don’t need me to help you with the pants, do you?” he teased.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you replied, standing up and shuffling out of your pants. Satoru’s pants were much too long for you, so you had to roll not only the waistband but also the cuffs so that they didn’t constantly drag on the ground. Not like you minded doing that; there was just something about his clothes that was infinitely more comforting than your own, and he knew that more than anyone else.

As you adjusted the pants, Satoru left the bedroom to head toward the kitchen, no doubt to start cooking some of your favorite foods. You laid down on your shared bed, happy to be home. It was a long day (Days? How long were you even unconscious?) and you were glad to have such a caring boyfriend, even if he was being a little annoying about this.

About an hour later, Satoru came into the bedroom with a tray of food. He wouldn’t let you even touch the chopsticks, insisting on feeding you food because he didn’t want you to “strain yourself.” You thought he was just being a little too overprotective, but you allowed him to feed you anyway. The look of satisfaction on his face was just too cute for you to deny him this tiny pleasure.

After dinner, you immediately wanted to go to bed. Satoru quickly ate his portion of dinner then changed out of his work clothes into something much more comfortable to sleep in. He joined you under the covers, using his cursed energy to turn off the lights. You felt his arms gently snake their way around your waist, pressing you into his front. You sighed in contentment; he was warm, but not too warm.

After a few seconds of silence, you piped up, “Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for taking care of me. I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, just behind your ear. “Anything for you, my love,” he breathed onto your neck. You could feel him smiling gently. “Maybe we should just get married.”

You grumbled something, not even quite sure what you said or even what he said completely. Before sleep overtook you, you mumbled out one last final “I love you,” incredibly happy to be in your boyfriend’s arms at the moment.

[pftones3482]

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

~~

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

~~

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

~~

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

[shaolinbynature]

The Stories (and Theory) of 1x04

In this very informative episode, I've notice that the main players of episode four all had a scene where they tell another character a story. And not just any story but a story that relates to the speaker in some way. When I went back and listened to them, I realized that a lot was said in these very brief instances and wanted to break them down for anyone who wanted to read. The main people being broken down are Martin, Kate, and Ashley, Kate's step-sister. It's a long (but juicy) read. TLDR at the bottom.

Martin:

When sitting outside with Kate, he expressed to her about a family tragedy he experienced when he was a teenager. His dad committed suicide (which is why he gets jumpy around guns) and feels regret because before his father had passed, they had a fight. He also briefly spoke about Greek mythology, when they were looking at the constellations, about how Poseidon was angered by Cassiopeia because she always bragged about how beautiful she was. He says it so quickly that you barely understand the story if you're unknowledgeable about Greek mythology. The story goes that Poseidon was so bothered by Cassiopeia's vanity that he was to destroy her Kingdom by water. When Cassiopeia tried to figure out how to stop that, she was told she had to sacrifice her daughter as a peace offering to the sea gods.

"A lot of family drama," Martin ends with it.

Learning about Martin's reason for being uneasy around guns says a lot but my focus is more on the story of Poseidon and Cassiopeia. Could this be foreshadowing about what ends up happening to Kate? "Family Drama"? Did someone get angered by not Kate.....but maybe Joy's beauty, status, and/or lifestyle and sought on destroying it? Which then, in turn, caused Joy to "sacrifice" Kate to stop her secrets, like the affair she's having with the family gardener, from getting out?

Kate:

"It's about a girl called Anabelle. Found herself in the woods one dark night, all alone and vulnerable. They were on a hunting trip, pretending they could love their pets at home while they shoot animals on vacation. Pretending that their marriages are perfect. Hypocrites, basically. Secrets, wild accusations, a desperate thirst for gossip. But back to little Annabelle all alone.....Till she wasn't. A man joined her. A man the grownups trusted. Now, of course, Annabelle trusted him too, because, I mean, why wouldn't she, right? She was just a child. And that trust led to something unspeakable. Then I think that puts blood all over the grownups' hands, don't you think too? That they were all responsible for what happened to her? Now, they'd better have all their stories straight, because Annabelle sure has hers. Secrets are scary because everybody has them."

Kate's story of Annabelle is an interesting one because it doesn't sound like she's talking about a real person. To me, it almost sounds like she's speaking in third person because of how she says, "Now, they'd better have all their stories straight, because Annabelle sure has hers". How would she know Annabelle has a story to tell if not Annabelle being another form of herself? A persona she created to be strong when she couldn't? Kate knows the adults have more involvement with her kidnapping then they are leading on and she's telling them to brace themselves because it's all going to come out one way or another. This "story" possibly matches up with the theory above of Joy sacrificing Kate.

Ashley:

While sitting on the swings with Derek, Jeanette's older brother, Ashley asks if he's ever heard of Berenice IV? She goes to explain that she was heir to the last pharaonic family in ancient Egypt and that she was Cleopatra's cunning older sister. "But history forgot her. She was invisible. She was a risk taker. She was subversive. But she paid a price. She was beheaded."

Another ancient story of family drama, the story goes that the parents of Cleopatra and Berenice were in fear of Cleo and Berenice's older sister, Cleopatra VI, the Pharaoh of Egypt, because she was getting way too powerful. So, the family fled to Rome for military help. Berenice, who stayed behind, decided to poison her older sister and take the throne since their parents are gone and technically she would be the next in line. While Berenice was in power, she refused to marry any man she was expected to and make him co-ruler because fuck that. But every month that went on without her having a man by her side, the civilians were afraid that this would cause the downfall of the family reign and Egypt. They forced her to marry one guy and she strangled him so she would continue being the only be the one in charge. She eventually found a guy she liked enough to marry but did not want to share her Pharaoh powers with him. This little reign only lasted three years until her family came back from Rome with that military assistance. Her father's army defeated Berenice's army and then had her beheaded for treason.

How Ashley speaks about Berenice VI is almost in an empathetic way. "She was invisible. Was a risk taker. She was subversive." It was like she could relate to Berenice. Berenice killed to get to the throne she wanted, she loved the lavish life, even betrayed family but family was the one that killed her in the end. The idea of Ashley liking Berenice is strengthened when we find out Ashley is in-fact the user Berenice4 in the chatroom with Kate. We saw in an episode prior that Kate seems to tell all to Berenice4 so it's extremely possible that Ashley knows the real story about what happened with Kate. Or at least the real side according to Kate. I've seen people say that maybe Ashley invading Kate's privacy by pretending to be an anonymous chatter was probably done with good intention but, if we go by the story of Berenice, maybe there is something else there. Maybe Ashley is to be the cunning older sister in this story.

TLDR: Martin, Kate, and Ashley have told stories in this episode that all parallels the theory that Kate being kidnapped may possibly not be Martin's sole doing but "family drama" that led her to be locked away in a basement. Martin mentions family drama with the story of the vain Cassiopeia that sacrificed her daughter so Poseidon wouldn't ruin her kingdom, Kate mentions that the adults in "Annabelle's" life have secrets that caused them to fail Annabelle, and Ashley mentions family betrayal with the story of Berenice VI (also Ashley's chatroom name "Berenice4") who kills her sister to be Pharaoh of Egypt and is later beheaded by her father for treason against the family.

[lovelylogans]

the himbo chronicles

part i | part ii

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: kissing, underage drinking, kissing with consent while under the influence, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: roman/logan, offscreen patton/virgil

word count: 8,877

notes: i simply could not resist writing about these good good boys for a moment longer. i love them. this work takes place in the late summer/early fall between logan’s freshman and sophomore year of college, or almost four years after the main storyline. if you need a quick rundown of the characters (i know seven new characters might be a lot to digest!) here’s a quick guide to each of the boys. please enjoy! 

⁂

one had a certain expectation when it came to many college-aged boys living in the same house together. partying. general revelry. chaos. messy surroundings. the loud blaring of video games. more than just a touch of hedonism, certainly. 

logan sanders is a rather atypical college-aged boy. in his past reveries when considering college, he'd thought of the libraries he'd spend hours in, the books he'd pore over, the professors that would come to mentor him. perhaps the occasional errant thought of a party he'd be dragged to, but then his brain had moved to college newspapers and their framing on pieces when it came to excessive drinking and how to interview fraternity presidents concerning their unsettling hazing rituals. 

during his senior year, a fair amount of his fretting had transitioned into how to handle the distance from his father, patton, and pseudo-father, virgil, back home in sideshire, which proved itself solved quite handily; yale is close enough that it's not even a notably long drive. the other worrisome part, though, were how to visit his long-term boyfriend, roman, who was no longer even in the same state. but they'd made it work, over the past year, and logan is currently sitting in an armchair he'd dragged over to the front window of the house, trying and miserably failing to pay attention to some of his class reading.

once he'd gotten to college, though, those social expectations for the rest of his peers had certainly been proven, if simply by virtue of examining the rest of his classmates. his life, however, seems ill-contented to have left it at that; he can safely say that his social circle is not entirely like he'd expected his college friends to be.

for instance, as he hears the creaking of the old wood floors behind him—

"if you start making fun of me for waiting by the window for roman again i will take points from your good noodle chart," logan threatens, and adam scampers off with barely-contained snickering.

he had not expected to have to say that sentence during his college years at all.

there's a hastily-stifled laugh, and logan swivels around to see jordan, who is certainly paying very studious attention to his own class reading.

logan's eyes narrow at him. 

"you usually study in the kitchen," logan says, just barely keeping an accusing tone out of his voice.

"more natural light in here," jordan says, nodding to the window, his lip caught between his teeth.

logan scowls.

"...okay," jordan relents, "and—"

"i knew it."

"c'mon, none of us have met him before!" jordan protests, even as logan is calculating the chances of being able to kick jordan out of here. they are not particularly good; he can hear andrew, derek, and edward loudly talking about their SQUH-SQUH-SQUH SQUAT CHALLEEEEEENGE! in the living room, which is open to the kitchen. the counting of the squats they can do is very noisy, not even factoring in the trash-talk.

"privacy would be appreciated," logan says.

"in this house?" jordan says skeptically, which is a fair point; there are nine of them crammed into five rooms. logan's room is technically a single only by virtue of it being an attic that can barely fit a lofted bed with a desk and a dresser warring for space underneath. logan is fairly certain that janus's shared room with matthew in the basement was never intended for long-term human habitation, either.

"i knew i should have met him at the station," logan says, ruffling the pages of his book. 

"is logan talking about us?" matthew shouts from the living room. his feet pound against the hardwood as he poked his red head around the corner, his eyes going as teasingly pleading as jordan's. "you're not gonna make us miss meeting our step-daddy, are you, mom?"

the "mom" thing is somewhat new, too, and also an aspect of college life that logan had not foreseen. perhaps logan should have seen it coming when he started instituting a chore chart and a chart for good behavior with plastic dinosaur toys as rewards. for reasons that elude him, the boys named it the "good noodle" chart.

he had mostly started the chart after what might have been a joke from janus, in retrospect, but he certainly isn't going to stop now, not when it's been proven to be so effective. 

what he says instead of respond to matthew's question is "have you finished the dishes?"

matthew hesitates, looking back over his shoulder to the countertops.

"...yyeesss...?"

logan arches an eyebrow at him. "if i walk in there, will there be dishes in the sink?"

matthew attempts to model his eyes after jordan, widening them and trying to look innocent. he isn't as gifted at it.

"it would be a shame if you had to be demoted on the good noodle chart because you didn't finish your chores and—" he glances at a notecard— "chirped me about roman."

a pause.

"was that accurate?" logan says. "is it 'chirped?'"

"cory!" matthew bellows over his shoulder.

"yeah?" cory shouts back. 

"hockey trash-talk is chirping, right?"

"yeah!"

"thank you!" matthew shouts back and turns to face logan. "yeah, it's chirping."

"hockey," logan mutters, scrawling this onto the notecard. the influx of sports-related slang to his notecards is another unforeseen aspect of college life. "it's hockey-specific, that's what i was missing."

a beat.

"the sooner you can get them done you can pass it to the next person on the chart. do the dishes," logan adds severely, and matthew stumps off to the kitchen, grumbling something under his breath that sounds a lot like “ugh, mom.”

say what one will about the good noodle chart—it certainly is a successful motivator.

perhaps the plastic bag full of dozens of mini bubble-wands that the boys saw logan receive in the mail this week is doing more of the persuasion rather than the necessity of the chores, or logan himself, but it works.

“logan?”

“hmm?” logan says, distracted by wondering if derek vacuumed the living room or if he dragged around a dining chair make lines in the carpet again.

jordan, grinning, nods to the window, and logan whips his head around just in time to see a taxi pull into the driveway.

the sudden surge of excitement and happiness and eagerness is enough to make him stand up, because roman is right there, logan can distantly see him in a red shirt in the back of the taxi. logan hastily tosses his book onto the nearest table and goes for the front door as quickly as he can without running outright.

by the time he is near enough to roman to see the details of how he’s styled his hair that day, a piece of lint on his shoulder, the way he’s slung his bag on his shoulder, he’s paying the taxi driver. 

he turns around to face logan, and logan loses his breath.

god he’s so handsome.

logan doesn’t know if it’s a month’s absence, or if roman has indeed grown more beautiful by the day, but roman is so lovely. his skin glows in the late summer sun, grinning at logan wide and bright, and logan can’t stand there and drink in the sight of him, chronicling every single miniscule difference that he can, because roman grabs logan in a hug, pulling him close.

logan wraps his arms around roman as tight as he can, burying his face into roman’s shoulder and inhaling; the familiar scent of his cologne, his floral body wash, the gel he uses in his hair.

“i missed you,” roman whispers, breath warm against logan’s ear.

“me too,” logan mumbles, squeezing him tighter. usually, roman hugs him even tighter back, but today, he falters.

“um.”

logan pulls back enough to see the quizzical look on roman’s face. roman nods at something behind him.

“i think we have a bit of an audience.”

logan glances back over his shoulder in time to see all seven of the boys—plus a peek of janus in the back, surely egging on the chaos—jostling for the best view at the window where logan had just been keeping vigil.

“it’s not too late to call the taxi back and go somewhere private,” logan says, turning to face roman again. “i could show you the library.”

roman grins at him. “are you kidding? i’ve wanted to see if you were exaggerating about them for ages.”

logan scoffs. “as if i’m the one prone to exaggeration in this relationship.”

roman’s grin widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “fuck, i’ve missed you so bad.”

what else can logan do but pull roman in by the waist and kiss him?

even muffled by the closed door and the thick glass of the window, logan can hear the boys hooting and hollering and yelling “GET IT, MOM!!!” and “ow OW!” and roman laughs against logan’s lips.

logan smiles into the kiss, and he thinks that roman’s weekend visit probably couldn’t have gotten off to a better start if he’d tried.

⁂

the first thing that someone says when logan and roman walk into the front door is “what the FUCK, mom, you didn’t tell us he was HOT!”

roman swivels to face logan, offended.

“of course i think he’s hot,” logan says, bemused. “i’m dating him. he’s obviously my type.”

“yeah, but,” adam says, and he gestures to roman’s body at whole. “he’s fucking hot, though.”

there’s a rumbling of agreement from the other boys—sans janus, who has obviously met roman before—and roman immediately preens at the attention.

because roman is undoubtedly hot. his brown skin is glowing—logan has seen him wearing facemasks on their video calls enough times that he knows it’s not incidentally clear, perfect skin—and he’s maybe not quite as bulkily built as, say, derek, who can pick up logan and janus simultaneously without breaking a sweat, but roman is strong by virtue of his profession and it shows. 

“thanks,” roman says, grinning.

“i mean,” adam adds hastily, “all respect to you and logan, i mean this in, like, the bros-appreciating-bros way, not the i’m trying to steal your man way.”

“i figured,” logan says dryly, considering that adam, notably lacking in a sense of impulse control, has never offered any romantic inclination towards men before.

“well, roman, this is—everyone,” logan says, and points at each housemate as he says their name.

“adam rothschild—”

“hi,” adam adds belatedly. 

“—matthew van doren—”

“'sup,” matthew says, with an upward nod of his red head.

“—cory hollingsworth—”

cory flashes a peace sign from where he stands beside janus.

“—jordan arlington—”

“nice to meet you, man, logan’s been looking forward to this for fuckin’ ever,” jordan says.

logan, refusing to blush, continues with, “edward morton—”

“shalom, bro,” he says.

“—andrew de loughrey—”

“hey, dude.”

“—derek carmichael, and you remember janus, of course.”

“nice to finally meet you all,” roman says, an arm wrapped comfortably around logan’s waist.

“you’re fucking yoked, bro,” derek says, appreciative. “what does your leg day look like? your quads are insane.”

“thanks, man,” roman says, extending a denim-clad leg with all of his typical grace. his legs are insane, to be fair. “part of the job—has logan mentioned i’m a ballet dancer?”

there’s a chorus of agreement, and so as they relocate, unspoken, to the living room. all of the other boys listen to some of the exercises roman discusses, and roman offers demonstrations of barre warm-ups upon request, his hand on the kitchen island, to great enthusiasm.

logan probably should have guessed that hearing about the workout regimen of a ballet dancer would go a long way in convincing this house full of “jocks” that roman was worthy of their adoptive, same-age mother. he’s pleased that by the time this line of conversation is winding down, it has been proven to be a very effective icebreaker.

even if he is a little grumpy to lose the warmth of roman’s hand where it had been resting on his knee.

however, once that conversation does trail off, logan gets to his feet.

“how about i take you on a tour of the house? i can show you my room.”

“ooh, mom, get it,” andrew says, to great whooping and a wolf-whistle which elicits more laughter from the other boys.

“remember, house rule, sock on the doorknob!” says someone who can surely only be adam.

“i’m making a bad noodle chart now,” logan says, attempting to fight the blush that’s surely creeping onto his face, “all of you have been demoted to the bad noodle chart.”

roman reaches out and takes logan’s hand. “you actually have a noodle chart? i thought you were kidding.”

“i am not kidding,” logan says sourly, directing a glare toward the boys.

jordan, mercifully, provides a very handy distraction by order of shouting out “MARIO KART TOURNAMENT I CALL ROSALINA,” which immediately descends into chaos as the boys fight over who gets peach, or yoshi, or else fighting over their “lucky” switch controllers.

janus meets eyes with logan, rolls his eyes, and promptly siddles his way into one of the four coveted spots to play as wario. somehow janus never has to engage in this arguing, even though logan, the house mother, has to fight with the boys to get to play with isabelle—

whatever. it’s fine. as adam launches himself at jordan to literally wrestle him to the ground for the honor of playing as rosalina, logan takes advantage of this to slip further into the kitchen with roman.

“we could probably make a getaway attempt now, it would be an ideal time,” logan says, a touch anxious; this is roman’s first time meeting the boys, and logan knows better than most people that being in the (boys-and-janus-dubbed) himbo house can be overwhelming. 

“no way,” roman says warmly, squeezing logan’s hand, and logan’s heart flutters in its chest. “show me the rest of the house, c’mon.”

logan shows roman the good noodle chart in its place of pride in the kitchen, taking a moment to detract a gold star sticker from adam for tackling jordan, writing unnecessary violence (mario kart) on the line beneath specifically meant for the reason for the latest detraction in red dry-erase marker. 

he adds a star for jordan without writing exactly why.

roman takes a moment to survey the chart and immediately barks with laughter at the bottom line.

“don’t,” logan grumbles.

“but c’mon!” roman says, delightedly pointing at the section of the chart that has special microscope stickers instead of gold stars.

it says logan workaholism 

and then, in different handwriting and a different colored marker, (and drunk shenanigans). 

“yes, well, you’ve seen the chart now,” logan says evasively, tugging roman along, and roman follows with a smile on his face that’s a bit too big for logan’s liking.

logan hadn’t even been on the chart. but no, he listened to adam’s recommendation for a drink one time (he should have realized that would turn out to be a horrible idea) and now he was on the good noodle chart, specifically so they could detract a sticker. he shouldn’t be on the chart, he runs it!

he still has the most stickers of anyone, though, so there.

logan shows roman their kitchen, which is more well-stocked than one would expect a stereotypical a college kitchen to be. there’s two mini-fridges so that edward can keep kosher. within the normal fridge, and in the cabinets, there’s an overwhelming supply of protein bars, shakes, and powders, in addition to plenty of fruits and vegetables. 

he slips with roman up the stairs, unnoticed by everyone screaming at the four lucky players of the first leg of the mario kart tournament. from a glance at their ridiculously oversized flat screen, janus seems to be swiftly overtaking the lead due to taking advantage of a secret passage.

logan gestures vaguely to the rooms leading off the landing, telling roman who occupied which, as well as the communal bathrooms, but as there are no common spaces on either of the floors that roman has not already seen, he essentially leads roman straight up to the attic.

his room.

he tentatively opens the door for roman to look in and behold it, which roman immediately does.

logan’s lofted bed is crammed against the wall that divides the attic at the apex of the roof, as the opposite wall slants with the angle of the roof. everything is lit by the window opposite the door; logan debates flicking on the overhead light, and decides against it. the afternoon sun does just fine.

logan’s bed is made, his indigo duvet tucked neatly over his white sheets. his desk is pushed beneath the bed, with his laptop, a notebook, and a mug from remy’s café full of pens resting on it, the shelves above the desk that the boys had helped logan install nearly toppling under the weight of all their books. logan’s backpack sits in his desk chair, logan’s dresser shut. the rest of the floorspace is overtaken by a comfy rug and a pitiful excuse for a beanbag chair, which roman promptly sits on, wiggling to get comfortable.

“i like it,” he proclaims. “it’s cozy.”

logan tries to smile at him. the room is cramped and logan knows it.

all the other occupants of the house come from, to put it in plain terms, the same world of wealth and status that his grandparents occupy. as a matter of fact, his grandparents had been incredibly pleased that logan’s roommates had been “up to snuff,” a roundabout way of saying they’re of an appropriate caliber for our ivy-leaguer grandson.

logan knows that it was no coincidence that his roommates offered him his “cozy” room and therefore a lower amount for rent, all of them reasoning that as he had the smallest and least convenient room and if he was not there to supervise the house would surely explode, as part of this offer was surely due to the fact that they knew that his budget did not stretch as far as theirs did. 

for one, he is the only roommate with a job. for another, he is the only one who knows how to budget. 

well, janus would likely be able to figure it out, but he’s never needed to, which is the point.

derek hadn’t even recognized what “those little slips of paper” in logan’s hands were when logan attempted to discreetly coupon during a grocery outing.

educating them on what coupons were was... an experience, to be sure.

logan’s musings are interrupted when roman takes hold of his hand and gently tugs at logan. logan obligingly sinks onto the ground to join him, settling practically on roman’s lap.

“hey,” roman says, voice husky.

“hi,” logan says, in a tone that strikes him as strangely shy.

roman reaches out and makes a grabby hand, to which logan rolls his eyes and settles more decisively on roman’s lap, unable to keep the smile off his face, which roman can surely see, given the way that logan is now directly facing him.

“better?”

“much, thank you,” roman says graciously, settling his hands at logan’s waist and gently squeezing. 

“i must agree,” logan says, resting his hands on roman’s shoulders and squeezing back. roman offers him a slanted smile.

“love, what a long way, to arrive at a kiss,” roman says, pausing to pick logan’s hand off his shoulder and press a kiss to his palm, achingly soft, “what loneliness-in-motion, toward your company!”

“you can’t just quote neruda off the bat, it isn’t fair,” logan complains, despite the fact that his heart has been sent aflutter, but he is cut off when roman’s lips meet his.

oh, how logan’s missed this. he’s familiar with the pressure of roman’s lips against his, the warmth and breadth of roman’s hands wrapping around him, the way logan’s hands fit perfectly on roman’s shoulders, and missing it has been like an ache.

languid, unhurried afternoons in the summers by the town’s lake; inexperienced hands slipping up shirts in their childhood bedrooms; illicit kisses in the gazebo when they were both meant to be at home; his memories seemed to pale in comparison to having the real thing, right now. roman’s heartbeat and the rush of logan’s pulse in his own ears and the sweet, perfect slide of their mouths. they break to breathe, staying forehead-to-forehead.

“but you and i, love,” logan murmurs, “we are together, from our clothes down to our roots: in the autumn, in water, in hips, until we are together—only you, only me.”

“you skipped a few lines,” roman teases.

“i editorialized,” logan says. “taltal is not particularly applicable to our situation, is it?”

“and i suppose it isn’t raining,” roman says, mock-thoughtfully. logan smiles and leans in for more.

roman responds, sliding his hands down logan’s back and eventually coming to grip at logan’s thighs, and logan arches into the touch—

—"ow!”

—and logan leans back, careful to avoid the slant of the roof he’d just hit his head against, putting a hand on where his head throbs in complaint.

“oh, i’m sorry!” roman says frantically. “i’m so sorry, c’mere, c’mere, let me look—”

“it was just a bump, it’s not so bad,” logan says, but he squirms and twists so that roman can see the point of impact.

roman cautiously runs his fingers through logan’s hair, paying close attention, and gently presses his fingers down. logan winces.

“tender?”

“a bit.”

“i’m sorry,” roman repeats, now running his fingers through logan’s hair, careful to keep his touch light.

“i hit my head getting out of bed and getting up from my desk for a full week before i got used to the angle,” logan says with a shrug. “kissing you is the most pleasurable way this could have happened.”

“well, now, still don’t like that clever little brain of yours getting bumped around,” roman says, frowning. 

logan points to where, at this angle, roman can see the protective pool noodle secured to protect himself from hitting his head against his bed while standing up from the bed. janus had cut it for him with an exacto knife. logan is unsure where janus keeps this exacto knife. he hopes it’s hidden somewhere safe; sharp implements were just asking for trouble in this household.

“better now,” logan says, then, when roman’s still frowning, “i’m used to it, really. and besides, i’m the second-shortest in the house; no one else would take this room. well, janus would be the only other person who wouldn’t be constantly hitting his head, but i think he prefers the basement.”

“like an evil lair,” roman grumbles.

“precisely what he said,” logan says dryly. “can you imagine derek in here?”

they both take a moment to imagine derek, who stands at six feet and seven inches tall, slouched over at most points of the room.

“yeah, that’d be a bit of a tight squeeze,” roman acknowledges. 

“besides,” logan says. “there are plenty of ways to be comfortable.”

he adjusts to sit on the comfy, fluffy rug—bought specifically for floor-sitting in mind—and pulls roman along. roman, getting the idea, moves the beanbag to use as a pillow, and lies back against it. logan curls up on the ground with him, resting his head over roman’s heart.

roman takes a moment to switch to scratching his fingernails against logan’s scalp, and logan tries not to shudder with pleasure too obviously.

“i like it in here,” logan says. “i like that i can go out of the window to sit on the roof, if i wanted. i like that i have the clearest view of the night sky. i like that i have a single room. and—”

he points to the side of the rafters that would not be visible to someone standing in the doorway of the room; only from within it are the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark stars surrounding the photographs of logan’s loved ones are visible. the one most visible from here is himself and roman eating lucy’s at the winterfest where they had their first kiss. 

“—i like that there are unique decorating ideas i could only put into function in this room.”

roman kisses logan’s head, and, with that, curled up together on logan’s bedroom floor, they start talking about everything and nothing at all, and logan’s heart feels full and fit to burst with happiness.

⁂

look. matt’s fully aware that he’s cynical about love. it’s a bit hard not to when, growing up, his primary example of love was his dad and his revolving door of brides. 

he’s pretty sure he’s on stepmom number eight, by now, he isn’t really sure, he hasn’t met the latest one. 

(dad scheduled the wedding during peak crew season and matt’s dad, a yale alum himself, is all proud about him being on the team of the first rowing club formed at an american college. so matt didn’t go and his dad might have just assumed he had a regatta then. whatever. matt isn’t too fussed about it, seriously. he thinks her name might be tina? tara? fuck, he should probably work that out before thanksgiving break, shouldn’t he.)

(wait. goddammit. the last girlfriend was trisha. did he end up marrying trisha? he thought his dad dumped trisha because trisha got pissed at him for doing something in a dream of hers. fuck he seriously needs to do some googling before thanksgiving break.)

(wait. shit. it was tori who did the dream thing, because she was super into the astrology-dream-palm reading deal and she’d tried to figure out matt’s birth chart, so now he can flex that he knows he’s a leo sun taurus moon sagittarius rising to the girls he tries to pick up. that happened years ago, god damn it, who the fuck is his dad married to right now?!)

ANYWAYS. he doesn’t really have an optimistic view of love, especially at their age. so back when he’d first been getting to know logan, he’d been pretty surprised to hear that logan had a long-term boyfriend. logan didn’t really seem like the stereotypical college kid clinging to their high school sweetheart, like, at all. 

there had been a girl on his floor freshman year who woke up half the dorm during her kicking-and-screaming fight with her high school boyfriend that she’d tried to long-distance with and ended up dumping after a month. he’d kind of been expecting to hear that logan was going to break up with his boyfriend, because, like, how many childhood sweethearts actually make it?

but no, no screaming fights for logan—honestly, matt’s pretty sure if he heard logan actually yell it would be the scariest thing ever—and now the boyfriend is here.

who is, like, not exactly what matt had expected? he’d thought roman would maybe be a copy of logan, someone else crazy smart and crazy dedicated to school, and, in the kindest way possible, a major nerd. 

roman seems... cool.

like, first of all, he’d immediately understood and talked training routines with the rest of the house, which, like, respect to logan, who goes on runs and keeps his shit pretty tight, but he isn’t exactly the most gym-rat kind of dude. 

roman’s routine sounded really interesting. matt’s got pretty good legs himself—you kind of have to, to be on the rowing team—but roman’s calves and quads and glutes look unreal. man could probably beat them all in a squat challenge tournament without breaking a sweat. 

also, logan keeps himself looking like a eighteen-year-old tax accountant, with his polo and tie, but roman is dressed, like, suave. casual enough, sure,but his short-sleeved button down shirt looked like it was made of silk or satin or some fancy shit like that. it’s unbuttoned to show off the gold necklace he’s wearing. he’s wearing dark jeans at the exact right place on his waist.

logan has not exactly stepped into “going out” clothes, except for like combing his hair and wearing blue jeans. they’re going the pub that logan invariably picks on the rare nights he goes out with the rest of them—a coffee shop by day, a bar by night, and very unfancy.

logan is absently fixing roman’s collar so it sits straight as roman examines himself in his phone’s camera to check out his reflection. he flashes a smile toward logan in thanks. 

logan smiles at him, something in his eyes going soft that matt’s never seen him do before, and—

and, okay, if anyone he knows is smart enough to figure out how love works this early on, it would probably be logan.

⁂

"you sure, bro?” andrew says, leaning against the open car door, not yet sliding into edward’s bmw. “’cause i can dd this time, i think it’s my turn anyway—”

edward’s already shaking his head. “shabbat’s tomorrow, dude. gotta get up early to go to temple anyway, gramps would derail the whole service if i turned up hungover.”

andrew shrugs. “if you’re sure,” he says, and at last he slides into the car that is absolutely filled up with people over the legal capacity. 

usually, logan picks a fit about this, talking about things like seatbelts, but right now he’s perched on his boyfriend’s lap and doesn’t seem to mind at all.

janus, sitting beside them in the very back, is eyeing them like he’s ready to start elbowing them if they get too lovey. which like. logan, getting lovey? unlikely.

(however, the seven of them have made a pact to be as obnoxious as possible if the boyfriend gets too lovey. they didn’t include janus on this, because apparently janus and roman had a brief rivalry Thing in high school and it would probably piss logan off if they started fighting, but anyways. bros take care of bros.)

“are ya ready, kids?” edward asks as he starts the car.

“aye aye, captain!” the other six of his bros and, a little surprisingly, roman, call back. logan looks confused at this, as he usually does, and janus rolls his eyes, as he usually does.

“to the pub!” edward declares, and so they’re off as cory and jordan frantically play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the aux cord.

jordan wins and as such immediately puts on his playlist, a few of the boys starting to sing along to nicki minaj—oh, sick, it’s the pump-up playlist. hell yeah, that means that beyoncé is coming up. edward fucking loves beyoncé.

edward peeks into the rearview mirror, and he sees roman pressing his face into logan’s shoulder, like he’s hugging him, and logan smiles, looking very pleased.

and as edward drives on, everyone joining in when “love on top” comes on, even over the raucous performance of ther rest of his bros, he could swear he hears roman’s voice, floating up to the driver’s seat even from where he’s singing in logan’s ear.

“baby it’s you, you’re the one i love, you’re the one i need...”

damn, edward thinks to himself, impressed. he’s got a good voice.

logan’s cheeks go a little bit pink, and he smiles, ducking his chin; roman takes a moment from singing into his ear to kiss him on the cheek.

also, that’s cute as fuck.

⁂

“shots?” cory demands. “shots, shots, shots?”

“we just got here,” logan says, usually the sole voice of reason and also being boring, but he doesn’t seem to be standing as firm as usual. that might have something to do with his boyfriend, who has an arm going over his shoulder, saying “hell yeah, dude!”

“getting shots my treat!” cory says, and he rushes into the scrum in front of the bar before logan can protest and try to pay for himself.

janus catches his elbow and allows himself to be pulled along with him, which is cool. janus is probably cory’s closest non-sports friend ever, because he and jan are, one, roommates, but two, kids adopted from other countries as symbols of their white parents’ supposed generosity (he’s chinese, janus is haitian, they handshake meme over white people misunderstanding the culture and history of their countries of origin) so they tend to get each other’s deal more often than other people in the house.

they’re already planning their “oh so sorry we’re busyyy” excuse and activities so they don’t have to go home over thanksgiving break. 

cory leans down to talk into janus’ ear—it’s a friday night, so it’s as busy as it gets here—and practically shouts, “how long have they been dating again?”

“four years,” janus says back; cory has no idea how, but janus can always be heard in any crowd, he never has to shout. 

“are they, like,” cory says. “i mean. are they like. i dunno what i’m even asking. is their relationship, like, nice, i guess?”

janus arches an eyebrow back. “do you happen to remember my previous relationship?”

mm, yeah. asher fleming, resoundingly shady, but very willing to dole out the cash whenever janus so much as pouted at him. which janus seemed to like, so good for him, cory guesses, even though asher fleming was sketchy as fuck, in his opinion. dude could rest in fucking pieces.

“what about that makes you think i am a good person to ask.”

cory opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again.

“hey, what can i get started for you?”

oh thank god. “uhh, nine—wait, ten—ten shots of vodka? boyd and blair, if you’ve got it. and open a tab,” cory adds, forking over his card.

“you got it,” the bartender says, taking it, and then pauses, taking a moment to take stock of cory.

cory flashes a smile at her. she smiles back, and turns for the bar, going to hunt down ten shot glasses and a tray, her brunette ponytail bouncing as she goes.

janus nods after her. “she’s cute.”

“yeah, but she’s working,” cory says, turning to lean back against the bar and scan the pub to see where the rest of his dudes have gone. “i’m like ninety percent sure not asking out a girl when she’s trapped at work is part of bro code.”

janus follows his lead, leaning against the bar.

“they’re adorable,” he says abrubtly, his eyes fixed on the table that the rest of their roommates have claimed, jostling each other for space.

“huh?”

“logan, when he’s with roman. they’re adorable. it’s disgusting. he gets all,” janus’ mouth twists. “sappy.”

“really?!” cory says, stunned. logan, sappy? the closest they’ve ever gotten to sappy logan is after running the full gamut of logan’s stages of drunkness.

“bet you fifty bucks logan initiates pda within ten minutes,” janus says.

“i’ll take that bet,” cory says immediately.

as he approaches the table with the tray of shots, logan reaches over to squeeze roman’s hand and then just hold it on the table. he realizes what he’s started to realize every time he makes a bet against janus, which is that he probably shouldn’t have made a bet against janus. cory literally never wins.

⁂

"hey, man, they made this wrong,” andrew lies cheerfully, setting the glass in front of logan. “you like peach schnapps, right?”

this is a thing he and the other dudes like to do, and logan gets into a snit when they do, but c’mon. andrew has literally unlimited access to cash, why shouldn’t he use it to spoil his friends?

and then logan usually says something about taking care of himself, but like, it’s covering your drinks, dude, it’s not a big deal.

logan gives him a look, a i know what you’re doing here look, a i am about to throw a fit because you paid for me look, but before he can say anything roman breaks into the conversation.

“oh, damn, i was gonna pay for logan’s next drink,” he says, sounding a little disappointed that he couldn’t treat logan to his drink of choice. “how much was that? i’ll cover it and you can get my next one, l, like we’re on a date.”

andrew, skeptical, waits, because this kind of tactic doesn’t work with logan, but—

logan relaxes back into the seat, turning his eyes to andrew.

“oh,” andrew says, and turns to crane at the menu. “uh, since it’s wells night, five or six bucks should cover it.”

“nice,” roman says peaceably, and forks over a ten. “just to cover my bases for my next drink on the tab—hey, who opened that, anyway, and what’s their venmo? i wanna be sure i have it so i can pay my share in the morning.”

“cory did—i’ll pull it up,” logan says, taking roman’s phone from his hand and searching for cory’s venmo profile.

huh. crisis averted.

andrew gives roman a thumbs-up over logan’s head, and roman grins back at him.

⁂

look. there are certain stages of drunkenness, right.

derek could be called a party—what was that word janus said? cone-is-sour?—connoisseur. like, he knows these things, okay. he knows that people have certain telltale signs of what they do when they start getting drunker.

for him, he gets all overheated and red-cheeked first, then he kind of stops having the concept of volume control, then everything sounds like the funniest thing in the world, there’s a bit about hugging his bros and singing along to whatever song the bar’s playing super loudly thrown in there most nights, and then he gets really sleepy, and after that his memory gets blurry. easy, simple way to tell how drunk he’s getting.

logan’s stages of drunkness are... pretty wild. like, holy hell is logan a lightweight. he got, like, very past tipsy after drinking two wine coolers once. they’ve all kind of taken it upon themselves to improve his drinking tolerance, gradually.

anyways. derek thinks he’s got logan’s stages figured out by now, along with the rest of the dudes, and the stages are as follows:

rambling when he talks

Science!

I Love My Friends

wandering off, most likely to fall asleep in a weirdass location

it turns out there might be a stage 1.5, but this stage might only be unlocked when his boyfriend is here.

stage 1.5 of logan drunkness is cuddly.

they’ve been playing the “who can pay for the most drinks for everyone but mostly for logan” game, which means that they’ve been mixing their alcohol (careful to steer clear of beer, though, ‘cause that could turn to beer before liquor during the next round, beer before liquor, never been sicker; liquor before beer, you’re in the clear, derek knows his fuckin’ booze) and trying drinks of what everyone else is trying, seeing if they can come up with a new favorite drinks combo before the night ends.

with one hand, logan’s currently stirring his plastic straw in a cocktail called a bramble. with the other, he’s got his arm flung across roman’s shoulders, occasionally adjusting his stance, and any time he catches anyone’s eyes during a conversation he beams, like, this is my boyfriend, isn’t this so great?!

and, like, look. he knows it’s basically dude code to kind of haze each other a little bit, whenever a new significant other comes around, just to make sure they’re up to snuff, but c’mon.

their uptight, workaholic house mom, drinking on a friday night like he doesn’t have a care in the world? practically unheard of.

derek’s pretty sure he can pin the sudden lack of tension in logan’s shoulders and jaw on the man that logan is currently staring at. roman is telling a story about a drag show he and his girl friends went to see in new york, and logan’s looking at him like roman hung all the stars in the sky, grinning whenever roman looks over at him.

like. come on. how is derek meant to haze that. it’s too fuckin’ cute.

⁂

logan is putting in an order for waters at the bar because while the boys are good at remembering to hydrate for sports reasons, no one ever remembers to hydrate for drinking reasons. a hand gently touches his waist, and, with a whiff of familiar cologne, roman slides in next to him at the bar.

“hey,” logan says, a little too aware that this is the closest they’ll get to a private conversation for the rest of the night.

“hey,” roman echoes, loose and easy with alcohol. something low in logan’s belly thrums pleasantly at the sound.

“check-in?” logan requests. “i know that this can be a—a lot.”

to put it delicately.

roman grins at him. “your friends are cool, this bar is cool. you’re cool. i love you so much.”

logan, who would later put this decision down to being plied with alcohol, pulls roman in by the collar and kisses him hard.

roman seems surprised, just for a moment, before he responds in kind, pulling logan in at the waist and kissing him back, equally enthusiastic.

his boyfriend is visiting, he’s making out with him in a bar like a normal college kid would make out with a significant other, and everything seems wonderful.

roman, looking thoroughly kissed, handles the ribbing and joking the boys start as soon as they get back to the table with good humor, grinning at logan like it’s a private joke between the two of them.

god, logan’s so in love with him.

⁂

"hey, babe?” roman says.

logan hums around his straw, looking at roman with half-lidded eyes. fuck he’s so hot.

roman shakes himself a little, trying to focus, before he asks, “on a scale of one to ten, how chill would the guys be if i suggested we go somewhere we can dance?”

logan swallows, and roman’s eyes follow the of his bobbing adam’s apple.

“probably very chill about it,” he says dryly. 

roman smiles. “and how would you feel about going somewhere to dance with me?”

logan bites his lip, but still smiling.

“probably very enthusiastic about it,” logan says quietly.

roman grins at him. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

with a swiftness that probably belies how eager roman is at the very concept of holding logan close in his arms, roman calls out to derek, “hey, dude, is there a good club around here? i kinda wanna see y’all dance.”

derek puffs out his chest. 

“oh, bro, you are not ready,” he says gleefully. 

adam leans across the table.

“hey, wait, you’re, like, a professional dancer, right? maybe you can teach us a routine!”

oh, now roman has the perfect routine in mind.

⁂

adam has been known to get down at a party, okay. he’s a pretty decent dancer. his party trick is being able to swing around on poles installed into frat basements for “structural integrity.”

but, like, adam also knows that a literal professional probably has some tips, so he’d asked, right, which has now turned into—

“okay, again, from the start, ready?” roman asks, standing at the front of the group. janus and logan are at the edge of the room. adam’s pretty sure janus is recording this on his phone.

they’re also, like, in the center of most of the club’s attention, but roman seems very cool with it. which, likes, makes sense; dancing professionally, crowds come with the territory. the other six of his roommates are standing in loose lines, spaced out so they don’t kick each other in the heads.

“five, six, seven, eight,” roman starts, then, over the sound of six dudes who are all over six feet tall jump-kick then drop rapidly into what roman called a grand plié, which you would probably do slower for a stretch but this is CHOREO, sings, “now from the top, make it drop—”

⁂

logan, after trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of his boyfriend teaching tiktok dance choreography to what, ostensibly, looked like a group of typical frat boys, is attempting to catch his breath and hydrate at the bar. 

well. dehydrate, technically. a vodka soda is certainly working to dehydrate him.

“hey,” roman pants, appearing from the crowd, flushed, with at least two more buttons popped than he’d had when they entered. “hot over there—can i—?”

before he can ask, logan offers his vodka soda, and roman says “thanks” before he gulps down a good portion of it, fanning himself.

“i love dancing,” he says happily.

“i know, dearest,” logan says, perhaps not as dryly as he would if they were not both intoxicated.

“oh! and i love this song!” roman says brightly, as the dj transitions into a new song. 

logan smiles at him; the song is not a recent release, and logan thinks he might be able to place it.

“dance with me?” roman says, his eyes pleading. logan finds himself helpless to resist, and so he drains the rest of his drink.

roman smirks at him and takes hold of logan’s tie, gently leading him to a corner of the dance floor, rather than in the midst of the scrum of it, which logan appreciates; while he is perfectly willing to dance with roman, he is not so adept as to not make a fool of himself in the case of any impromptu dance circles.

there is, logan realizes once he listens to the lyrics, perhaps another motive of roman’s for dragging them into a less populated corner.

i’m telling you to loosen up my buttons, babe, but you keep frontin’, say what you’re gonna do to me, but i ain’t see nothing...

roman’s hands slide from logan’s tie to wrapping around logan’s shoulders, pulling logan so that they’re pressed up against each other, and logan grips roman’s hips, which are shifting sinuously to the beat.

“couldn’t dance like this at the chilton winter formal, could we?” roman says lowly into logan’s ear, and logan snickers.

“not unless we wanted to be lectured by mr. gardiner, no.”

“ugh, he was a fucker, i still haven’t forgiven him for being so strict about your math quizzes,” roman says, scowling. then, with a laugh, “no drawing lots to see who gets breathalyzed, no snooty rich kids to judge us—”

“i’m still surrounded by rich kids.”

“yeah, but your rich kids seem nice,” roman says thoughtfully. “‘cept for janus.”

“he’d take that as a compliment.”

“why did i bring up janus when i’m trying to grind on you,” roman mutters to no one in particular, and he then proceeds to handily distract logan by pressing impossibly closer. 

roman’s hands slide up logan’s shoulders to briefly cup logan’s face, then slide back down to squeeze his shoulders, using the movement to roll his hips against him, and logan’s world narrows down to the heat of roman’s body, the scent of roman’s sweat and cologne, the beat of the song thrumming through to his very bones.

roman twists in his hands, leaning forward, then standing back upright to lean against logan, swaying his hips all the whlie. he reaches a hand lazily back, dragging it down logan’s face before cradling logan’s jaw.

logan twirls roman back to face him again, his grip on roman’s hips tight and possessive, and logan leans in to devour roman in a kiss. he can feel the pounding of hearts against his chest, and they’re so close he’s uncertain whose pulse is whose.

⁂

“—I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHO TALK BEHIND MY BACK ‘CUZ A BITCH KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET ME HEAR!” jordan screams at the top of his lungs, along with the rest of his bros. all ten of them have piled back into edward’s car, and roman has taken over the aux, which is actually a phenomenal move, he has put on banger after banger. 

edward—the sole sober one in the car—is grinning to himself even as he turns into his parking spot near their house.

they all groan when he turns off the car, and therefore turns off the music.

“yeah, yeah,” edward says, good-natured. “everyone out, i wanna go to bed!”

everyone pours from the car, logan stumbling slightly when he jumps down from the suv.

“i’ve got you, my love,” roman says grandly, and squats before logan. logan snorts, slightly, but then proceeds to clamber onto roman’s back, accepting his piggy-back ride.

“onward!” roman declares, and jordan grins a bit, shaking his head, before he jogs ahead so he can open the front door for them. he watches logan giggle and mash his face into the side of roman’s neck, and he watches roman’s face glow.

the rest of the dudes kind of split off, from there. edward, true to his word, goes to bed; adam, derek, cory, and and andrew sit in front of the tv to start up a drunken game of mario kart; matt pours himself a glass of water and starts chugging it; jordan goes to grab his own water bottle from his room, because he has dish duty next and he doesn’t want to give himself too much trouble.

by the time he’s changed into more comfortable clothes and gotten his water, he runs into roman on the stairs.

“oh! hey, dude,” he says. 

“hey,” roman says. “uh, hey, do you guys have spare blankets and pillows and stuff, and where do you keep them? i figured i’d probably crash on the floor or the couch or something.”

jordan surveys him.

“yeah?” he says, in a tone that’s carefully neutral. they continue down the stairs together.

“yeah,” roman says casually. “uh—i know he’d wanna cuddle, but we’re both a bit drunk, so. got him some water, got him into bed, he fell asleep pretty quick.” 

jordan knows it’s the bare fucking minimum to take care of your drunk significant other, but he feels his respect for roman rise, even just a little bit. that’s a bro move.

“yeah, man,” jordan says. “uh—we’ve got blankets down in the living room, but some of the dudes are playing mario kart, so you might have a while to wait to free up the couch.”

roman brightens.

“oh, sick. does anyone play peach?”

jordan snorts. “you’re gonna have to fight someone for it.”

“bring it on,” roman says.

⁂

roman hums to himself, quietly, as he ascends the stairs. he has to take a couple minutes to juggle the plates in his hands to be able to open the door, but he succeeds eventually.

“rise and shine, nerdo,” roman sings, careful not to be too loud.

he sees logan stir, and, before roman can say anything in warning—

thump.

“fuck!” logan snarls, flopping back in bed with a hand to his forehead, glaring up at the ceiling that has grievously injured him.

“oh, baby,” roman says, setting down his plate on logan’s desk before he rises on tip-toes so he can see logan’s face. “lemme see.”

logan groans and pulls his pillow over his head.

“still a morning person, i see,” roman teases, before he nudges a plastic water bottle into the bed. “drink that, baby, it’ll make you feel better.”

“nerdo isn’t your best work,” logan grumbles, muffled by the pillow.

“yeah, well, i stayed up until three with the dudes playing mario kart,” roman says dryly. “birdo, nerdo?”

logan peeks out in time to grab the water bottle, squirm as upright as he can, and proceed to chug it as mechanically as possible.

“how’d you sleep?” logan says, once he’s drained about half of it.

“eh, fine,” roman says. “the couch is pretty comfy.”

logan frowns.

“it was couch or floor,” roman says, before logan can say anything. “i think we could maybe squeeze to fit up there, and considering we were, y’know—”

“i get it,” logan says.

“i was gonna make you a big breakfast, but,” roman says and hands over a plate with two pieces of toast sliced into triangles and slathered with crofter’s. “figured you’d like this better.”

logan smiles, taking the plate, and then leans wildly out of his bed in order to cup roman’s face and kiss him good morning.

the kiss is good. it’s very good. but—

“your breath stinks,” roman says, and logan chucks a pillow at him.

“you aren’t exactly a morning rose, either,” logan grumbles, and roman snorts, taking a bite of his own crofter’s with great fervor.

over their breakfast—logan in the bed, roman on the beanbag—they talk about their plans for the rest of the weekend; going on a walk around campus, going to see logan’s favorite spot in the library, getting tacos from the best little spot in town for lunch.

“granted,” logan says thoughtfully, “i have these ideas in place today, but we’ll see how the boys interfere with it.”

“i’d be fine if they did,” roman says.

“yeah?” logan says.

“yeah,” roman says. he grins up at logan. “wanna explain why they kept calling me step-daddy when i was making us toast?”

logan flops back on the bed with a groan, and, even with all of his theatrics, roman can tell logan’s very pleased that his boyfriend and his friends get along.

(they absolutely get along. roman has already promised to record a dance tutorial for them to “dancing queen” next.)

⁂

notes: major thank yous to @teacupfulofstarshine and @airiervessel for helping me flesh out the boys! songs in the order they’re mentioned: “love on top” by beyoncé, “wap” by cardi b. ft. megan thee stallion, “buttons” by the pussycat dolls, “thot shit” by megan thee stallion, “dancing queen” by abba.

[chalkrevelations]

OK, Word of Honor, Episode 9, and I know last time I got deep in the weeds about symbolism, but this week, I’m getting back to basics and rambling on (and on) about what this show is really about: Zhou Zishou and Wen Kexing and their relationship.

First, though, the usual warning: SPOILERS. Not just for this episode, but potentially for the entire show, so drive past and circle back around later if you want to watch all 36.5 eps unspoiled.

Bear with me on this one, because this ep spends a LOT of time on ZZS and WKX, and I think a lot of that time is ZZS making some Monumental Life Decisions, including how he’s going to proceed in this relationship and how he’s going to approach his life moving forward. But I’m finding myself needing to work through it chronologically, and it’s. A Lot. Also, let’s face it, ZZS has been my ride-or-die at least since he dropped to his knees and started disrobing in the middle of the throne room in Ep 1, so a chance to wallow in his emotional journey is a chance I’m gonna take.

So, we do have a brief opener when we find out Dead Guy who the Yueyang disciple was shrieking about at the end of the last ep is Fang Buzhi, AKA the Nine Clawed Fox, the guy who lifted WKX’s (Danyang) Glazed Armor (along with some replicas). He got got by mysterious somebodies in the previous episode, and we find out now that he has three tiny needles in his neck, which ZZS recognizes as a Tian Chuang technique. This leads ZZS to 1) assume it must have been Han Ying who did it, so the (Danyang) Glazed Armor is now in the hands of Tian Chuang, and 2) realize that maybe this is not the best place for the former leader of Tian Chuang to be hanging out right now, so he makes their excuses, because he knows that Gao Chong must be VERY BUSY now that he’s got this corpse on his hands, so they’ll just BE GOING, thanks so much. Gao Chong hopes to see them at the Hero’s Conference, and WKX responds in a Significant Tone that of course he’ll be at the Hero’s Conference, and now ZZS has his Thinky Face on again, because WKX is not nearly as subtle as he seems to think he is when he’s making Pronouncements.

The ZZS/WKX Show really starts kicking into gear that night, at the Getting Lucky Good Luck Inn, where we open on ZZS wandering contemplatively around his room, looking beautiful in the soft light of evening (your FACE, Zhang Zhehan) and ruminating on Prince Jin’s motives for wanting the Glazed Armor, like he’s never met this power-hungry asshole before. Also, he thinks to himself, wtf was that, with Gao Chong keeping anybody from seeing Chengling in the last ep? There’s a knock on the door, which momentarily confuses him - understandably, because as we’ll see, WKX doesn’t generally get the concept of announcing yourself and waiting to be invited in by knocking first, preferring to dramatically bust open doors (at least to ZZS’s bedroom) and grace you with his presence, whatever your thoughts on the matter are. He’s accompanied by waiters and dinner, and ZZS realizes his senses are going, presumably because he can’t smell this spread that WKX has procured in an attempt to prove what a good provider he is (what did I say about food and bonding? ZZS fed him in the market, and now it’s his turn to feed ZZS). WKX tells us that life is just three hots and a cot - which gives away more about your life than you would likely be comfortable with us knowing, Lao Wen, given how close to the vest you’re holding your cards – and that everything else can wait if you can have a meal with someone you like. :coff: (Also, remember this, it will come around again.)

Cut to dinner by flickering candlelight, the better for soft lighting to caress ZZH’s exquisite face, but ZZS isn’t into it at all, staring into space instead of eating WKX’s proffered Courtship Delicacies. This earns what’s possibly WKX’s most hypocritical and amusing comment yet, which is to ask ZZS, “What is it that you can’t tell me?” ZZS - apparently - is still feeling soft about WKX’s help against Tian Chuang’s Chengling-kidnapping attempt - or maybe he’s thinking that a little bit of opening up on his part will soften up WKX - because he hardly has to have a spoon dug into his ribs at all to admit that he’s wondering if it was a mistake to bring Chengling to Five Lakes Alliance. My dude, just steal him back, then. WKX laughs at him and tells him he’s got such a handsome face (true) along with a kind and innocent heart (false, he’s a former government spook and assassin, a part-time ill-tempered gremlin, and a whole-ass troll), and therefore girls will clearly go crazy for him (true, just ask me). ANYWAY, A-Xu, (WKX continues) now that the requisite random no-homo boilerplate is out of the way, are you really thinking of taking on Chengling as a disciple, because now is apparently not too soon to have the adoption conversation about Our Son. I almost expect him to pull out the adoption papers then and there. Instead, he pulls out a story - which is awkwardly placed and kind of clunky, actually, despite being thematically important - of a dog he had once, given to him by Someone Very Important, although of course he’s not going to say who that was (:facepalm:), and his mother warning him that he’d have to take care of it for life, and then he betrayed it.

So, there’s a lot going on here. We’ll eventually find out that ZZS gave Zhen Yan a puppy, so will this story of a gift dog jog ZZS’s memory into realizing that WKX is Zhen Yan without WKX actually telling him, so that WKX can tell his Bundle of Neuroses that it’s not reeeaaallly WKX’s fault ZZS figured it out? Also, WKX sees ZZS being like this about Chengling, and in the Chengling = Zhen Yan equation we’ve already established, is it possible this will prime ZZS to remember another disciple/young boy he took responsibility for, at one point? Of course, on ZZS’s side of things, it’s possible that hearing about this dog that WKX failed is likely to remind him of the way he failed his own responsibility to all the other disciples of Siji Manor, so, excellent way to take a stab at his heart, WKX! However, ZZS breaks the miserable tone we’ve become mired in by smacking WKX, chiding him for comparing their son to a dog, and getting them drinking. See, here, Chengling is the dog. Earlier, the two sisters A-Xiang rescued were the dog. Later, A-Xiang will be the dog. Unfortunately, WKX is going to have a blind spot and never quite realize that, in the Ghost Valley schema he’s set up, the Department of the Unfaithful is also the dog, but we’ll get to that in later eps. For now, cut to later that night: After dinner and a washup, ZZS sits on his bed, and we get some special effects to indicate that his hearing is also giving him problems, so he deploys his special Nightly Nails Torment meditation pose, and then we get the second instance of WKX playing the xiao to help him meditate and rest. (Junjun, your hands on that xiao …) ANYWAY, we get a gorgeous little bit of physical acting from ZZH here that could easily have been overplayed but is nicely restrained and subtle, with just the slightest smile when ZZS realizes WKX is playing, and then his whole body visibly relaxing as he allows himself to sink into WKX’s now-familiar musical embrace the meditation. It is :chef’s kiss:

Cut to next AM, when ZZS is now a very cranky boy, and I get this, because I also am exceedingly irritated when people bust into the room where I’m sleeping with an abundance of cheerfulness and try to get me to interact and do things without at least half an hour to creep my way out of bed, two cups of coffee, and an hour of silence before any attempts to converse like a reasonable human being (I’m looking at YOU, mom), and I don’t even have the excuse of seven Nails pinning me. Also, when WKX whips off the blankets, we learn that ZZH dresses to the right. :hands: I’m just making an observation. So, WKX wants to go to Yuefan Tower like some kind of wide-eyed tourist, and despite some smacking and scowling and death threats, we then smash-cut to the Tower, where ZZS has apparently come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with the ADHD gremlin crawling into his bed is to humor him about this daytrip. I think you could have come up with some more creative ideas that didn’t involve leaving bed, but I guess you’re not the fast one in this relationship, Zhou-ge. Srsly, though, I’m sure WKX would have been happy to do all the work, my dude. (I don’t always have strong top-bottom preferences, but you probably aren’t going to have much luck convincing me that ZZS is not a pillow princess who wants to just lay back and be spoiled. “Aren’t you a very capable man?” indeed. WKX has to do ALL THE WORK, god. I don’t know if I’m swimming against the current here – god knows I was in Inception fandom, where I felt the same way about Eames - but here we are.) Also, I can’t believe WKX didn’t just sit in the bedroom and creep on A-Xu’s beautiful sleeping profile for at least the amount of time it would have taken to drink a pot of tea, another viable option if it was me in this scenario. Tch. What kind of stalker are you, Lao Wen?

ANYWAY, at Yuefang Tower, ZZS tells us about the Four Sages of Anji, a senior-citizen polycule of soulmates who are, conveniently, at this very moment, on a boat in the lake beside the tower, playing music and sword-dancing. This is the first time they’ve been seen in 10+ years, after they put down their various swords and ran off together to live like hippies off-the-grid in the woods, probably skipping around naked, drinking “tea,” and having lots of sex. ZZS sighs wistfully while recounting this tale and calls them “a breath of fresh air.” There’s some discussion and poetry quoting and literary references to soulmates, and somewhere in here we get a shot of ZZS and WKX from behind which makes it super-obvious how hard they’re working the costumes to make Gong Jun look as broad as possible. He’s got the power shoulders on this set of robes, compared to Laopo ZZS’s soft, unstructured, flowing robes, and with those shoulders tapering down to the belted waist, they’ve got Junjun seriously working the Chris Evans Dorito silhouette. Meanwhile, focus back on their conversation: ZZS thinks that “the world is not important, finding a soulmate is,” giving some MAJOR FORESHADOWING for the end of the show (which we are accepting as “Ep” 37 because WE ARE), when we get that icy separation from the rest of the world but they have each other. WKX gives him a yearning look. ZZS looks back … there’s really no other way to put this … coyly, not meeting WKX’s gaze directly. This offers WKX and us a chance to admire his profile once again, thank you, Laopo. ZZS waits until WKX looks back out at the lake before looking at him directly, and his face journey, y’all. He’s thinking that it might not be bad to spend his remaining time with this soulmate, I think he’s starting to re-think the slow suicide, and he’s also thisclose to just letting WKX have him. Y’all, he seriously wants WKX so bad, here. It may be the first time we’ve seen this level of interest from him - it may be the first time, in all that we’ve seen of him, that he allows himself to even have that kind of interest. I think this is the next big step from Ep 6, when he allowed himself to enjoy being desired - now he’s allowing himself to desire, to want something again, other than a chance to drink himself to death in the gutter. This, right here, is a crucial point when he makes the decision to spend whatever time he’s got left living rather than just dying, and I’m flailing on the couch. This is the face of a man who’s ready to Make Some Declarations while getting railed within an inch of his life. SOMEONE IS GETTING SOME TONIGHT. Or he would if he wasn’t going to turn out to be such a fuckup. FFS, WKX.

But first, we cut to a scene of them back at the marketplace, wandering through as WKX mocks various sects in town for the conference – including the Mount Hua boys, who apparently look like virgins make their first trip to a brothel – and ZZS supplies background info on them. WKX asks if ZZS can tell what sect WKX is from, and ZZS calls him a messy bitch before asking if WKX can please stop making him play guessing games about everything and just tell him what WKX so clearly wants ZZS to know. (I know, right? But no, because then WKX might get what he wants, and he’s way too terrified for that, so you have to guess. That way, it’s not his fault when you figure out who he is and reject him, as anyone clearly will do because he’s unlovable and unforgiveable and not even really human, A-Xu.) WKX immediately changes the subject to ramble about the Hero’s Conference and how laughable all the sects are for wanting to be seen as heroes, blah blah blah, rinse and repeat. ZZS comments that only inexperienced people want to be heroes, that experienced people know “every character of the word hero is written in blood,” and yes, the character they’re using for hero, “ying,” is still the same character used in Han Ying’s name (which is not, by the way, the “ying” used in Wei Ying’s name, to cross streams for a moment). ZZS says he’s too old to be a hero (I and my knees feel you, my dude), now he’s just a wanderer, and he asks if WKX wants to be a hero or a wanderer, and WKX says that as a wanderer, all he needs is ZZS, and I’m telling you, someone absolutely would be getting some tonight if only he wasn’t such a fuckup, Lao Wen.

I’m’a try to wrap this up soon, because it’s gotten v. long, but we then cut to that night at the Getting Lucky Inn, ZZS drinking in his room, WKX busting in with his usual dramatic flair, with wine, inviting ZZS up to the roof to drink and look at the moon. He clearly has ulterior motives, but unfortunately for everyone, we’re going to discover they’re not the ulterior motives ZZS is expecting. As they lean back on the roof together, hands almost-but-not-quite touching, a romantic tune playing, WKX tells ZZS that he’s like, really happy! Just super happy! So happy! Ask me why I’m so happy, A-Xu! Spoiler alert: It is, unfortunately, not because he’s getting ready to get some from his laopo. This is particularly unfortunate, because ZZS chooses this moment to take another big step in this relationship, telling WKX that he’s not going to ask about things WKX doesn’t want to tell him, that he’ll wait for whatever WKX wants to tell him. On the surface, this comes off a little bit like, I’m done with asking when you’re not going to answer anyway, but in context – particularly on the back of the earlier scene when ZZS watched WKX turn on a dime and immediately change the subject to avoid exposing anything when ZZS asked WKX to stop making him guess everything – this is as good as a declaration of going all-in. ZZS is committing to this relationship on faith, without having all – or even most – of the answers about WKX, and his approach is going to be to wait until WKX is ready to reveal whatever information he feels safe and comfortable revealing. In practice, he’s going to end up being better or worse at this, depending on the day, but what it reminds me of, already, is that moment in the 20s (Ep 21? 22?) when A-Xiang and Cao Weining are arguing about her killing the beggar guy, he approaches her, she yells at him and points to the ground to indicate exactly how close he’s allowed to get to her, and his respect of that boundary she lays down is instantaneous and absolute. That’s what ZZS is saying he’s going to at least try to do, here. It also reminds me of the way he’s going to respect WKX’s decision on whether or not WKX is going to claim his place as a disciple of Siji Manor, without it affecting their relationship, so we really are starting as ZZS means to go on, here.

Unfortunately, we then find out that what WKX is actually so happy about is that his plan to burn down the jianghu is starting its next big step, and their romantic evening is interrupted by a bunch of dudes fighting and killing each other over a bunch of fake Glazed Armor. WKX mentions that he’s so happy the show’s started; he’s alternately amused, satisfied, and smug as they watch various fights; he seems to be expecting ZZS to also be amused; and I feel like the implication is that this was his real motive for inviting ZZS out onto the roof, to be able to watch this show with him. ZZS – who’s spent enough time standing ankle-deep in blood for six lifetimes and was working hard just a few weeks ago at drinking himself to death to try to forget what that feels like - is displeased and horrified, rather than very proud of what WKX has accomplished; he pushes WKX away from him when WKX approaches him to ask if he doesn’t think it’s all so very amusing; and he calls WKX crazy, then turns his back on him and walks away. To make things worse, the next morning, after WKX brings breakfast to ZZS’s room and actually knocks, only to find that ZZS has left in the middle of the night, WKX will witness an angry mob gathered outside the house in the woods where the Four Sages of Anji are staying for the Hero’s Conference, demanding a piece of the Glazed Armor the Sages are supposedly holding for Gao Chong, and eventually leading to the deaths of all four of these peaceful aging hippies whose commune in the woods was ZZS’s ultimate dream, leaving WKX horrified by the fact that his actions have consequences, including some that are going to make his boyfriend even more pissed off at him.

SO. All that happened. There were some other people in the episode, too:

We see A-Xiang and Cao Weining having lunch. She asks him why he’s not eating, calls him fat and cute, then proceeds to tell him about Ghoul, who likes to eat the faces of pretty boys. Her conversation skills could still use some work. Cao Weining vows to kill the ghosts of Ghost Valley who would do such awful things. A-Xiang actually ignores this slander about the evil of the residents of the Ghost Valley in a way that she doesn’t usually – usually she looks kind of unhappy when the Evilness of the Evil Inhabitants of the Evil Ghost Valley comes up, going all the way back to ZZS’s comments in Ep 2. Right now, she’s too busy pumping Pooh Bear for information, asking about why the Ghost Valley would have left a pile of heads on Yueyang’s doorstep if the Five Lakes Alliance is so great, so what is Five Lakes going to maybe, perhaps, do about this? Cao-dage is suspicious … that A-Xiang might be scared, but don’t worry, he’ll protect her. Oh, sweetheart. I could eat you up with a spoon, right along with Ghoul. Also, it finally registers that A-Xiang called him cute, but she has to step away for a quick confab with a henchwoman.

We also have to watch Chengling get bullied some more by a Yueyang shixiong who I think is Gao Shan, who we’ll later see bullying some prisoners in the Yueyang dungeon as he admits that he’s doing it to relieve his own frustrations and make himself feel better -  fantastic disciples you’ve got there, Gao Chong, I’m super-impressed by the morality and ethics you’re instilling as a sect. Once again, I have to consider WKX’s position on the jianghu as a hive of scum and villainy. Anyway, once Bullying Hour is over, Chengling runs into A-Xiang, and he can’t manage to prevent the waterworks as he confesses that he thought he’d never see any of them again and that ZZS didn’t want him. UGH. Zhou Zishu, come and get your child back. He’s at least somewhat mollified by Xiang-jie telling him she’s been sent to take care of him, and god knows she’s managed to keep WKX fed and clothed this long, so she has some experience as a minder, as counterintuitive as that seems.

We get a quick shot of Han Ying (My Beloved) with two identical pieces of Glazed Armor, apparently realizing that there are fakes out there.

Deng Kuan shows up, beaten and stumbling, and nearly gets turned away at the front gates of his own sect as a beggar – have I mentioned how unimpressed I am by the Yueyang disciples? Deng Kuan appears to be the only one of them worth anything – before they realize who he is. He is put to bed and tenderly nursed by Gao Xiaolian, who cries over him as he won’t wake up.

Finally, Gao Chong, Shen Shen and Zhao Jing (uh-huh) are horrified to discover that there’s fake Glazed Armor fk’n everywhere in town, making Five Lakes Alliance look ridiculous, which is just fabulous as the Hero’s Conference is coming up, guys. Shen Shen, because everything is a nail, vows to kill anyone who makes problems. Later, Hei Zi, who plays Gao Chong, has an utterly fantastic moment after the deaths of the Four Sages (wow, I did not remember that we wrapped up their entire storyline within a single ep), when he’s haranguing Beggar Gang Chief and is literally all, “You want the Glazed Armor? :pulls a piece out of his robe: HERE. You want some more? :pulls another piece out of his robe: TAKE IT.” It’s a great acting moment, his delivery is perfection.

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (1)

A WIBAR AU (that’s right, an AU of an AU) where the circumstances of Virgil’s introduction to the group-- or rather, Virgil himself-- are... a little different. A commission for @bumblebeekitten! 

warnings: unknowingly referring to a person as ‘it’, panic, fear, child endangerment

---

Patton woke up to the distinctive clamor of his teammates bickering. It was a familiar sound. 

“-- has been three days, are you certain we aren’t simply chasing a local legend with no basis in reality?” That would be Logan!

“Look, you two are the ones that decided to come with me, I would have been perfectly fine going alone!” And there was Roman, the swish of his tail betraying his agitation. “Besides, there’s something suspicious going on here, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh? And what evidence do you have to support your assertion?” 

“... I’ve just got a feeling.” 

Logan made a sound of disgust, and Patton sat up in time to see his friend throw all four hands out in an exasperated gesture. He sleepily rubbed at his eyes, shaking out his mussed-up feathers. 

“Are you tired of camping already, Lo?” 

The Ulgorian exhaled slowly, his ears twitching irritatedly. “No. I simply am uncertain that this venture will prove beneficial. We don’t have the budget to waste time on a vain attempt to soothe superstitious locals.” 

“Don’t be so heartless, Professnore,” Roman snapped, quickly checking his pack for everything he would need while out traversing the woods. “They’re asking for help because they’re worried. Something out there has driven the Humlilts into hiding, for all we know, the livestock could be next!” 

“They suspect the local fauna are being threatened, but that’s only one potential explanation--,” Logan started, and Patton swiftly tuned out the argument, remembering suddenly what he’d intended to check on. He hopped to his feet and checked on his ‘Humlilt bait’-- a small dish with sweet sliced fruit he’d set out.

Humlilts’s were relatively small, timid creatures, hoofed quadruped mammals that stood even shorter than Patton. They weren’t fond of being directly approached, and even initiating eye contact could scare them off, but if they took a liking to someone, they tended to be fiercely loyal. The fact that many had strayed from the nearby town was concerning, no matter the reason.

“Yes!” Patton chirped in glee when the plate proved empty, only a few spots of juice left behind. Behind him, the heated discussion faltered. 

“Something you’d like to share with the team, Feathers?” Roman asked, one of his ridged eyebrows twitching up curiously. Logan frowned at the dish, and Patton quickly replied before he could be lectured on leaving ‘fauna attractants’ out by mistake. 

“I’m one step closer to making a new friend!” he announced gleefully. “Good morning, little critter! Are you still around?” 

There was no response from the forest, but he remained cheerful, his antennae barely flickering. “Aw, feeling shy? I’ll befriend you yet, little critter, just you wait…” 

“Patton,” Logan started. “Do you mean to imply that last night, you intentionally placed food out to lure local creatures to our camp while we are in the middle of trying to track down an unknown, potentially dangerous beast?” 

“Of course not!” Patton responded, picking up the plate to stow it away. Before Logan could relax too much, he continued. “I’ve been leaving snacks out since the first day we made camp!” 

He scrunched his eyes closed to show his happiness, and not at all to avoid the incensed look Logan would be giving him right about now. 

“Have you any idea how dangerous—“ 

“Woah, Lo, it’s a-okay!” Patton hurried to reassure him. “I know for sure that it’s a little hummer and not anything else. The last two sunrises, when I woke up and greeted the day, I would hear it call back, just like the noise Logan said they make! The little critter is following us around, and soon we’ll be best buds, I can feel it.”  

Logan waved a spare hand dismissively, already well into his datalog, muttering as he scoured the articles he had saved for this journey for any mention of on-planet predator animals using mimicry. Roman shuddered his scales in fond exasperation, his tail thumping against Logan’s ankle.   

“Relax, Specs, I’ll be sure to protect us from any malignant beasties.” He paused, and then cast a slightly admonishing glance down at Patton. “That is, so long as there aren’t any more secret surprises you’ve been keeping from us, Pattoncake?”  

“No secrets here! The next time I try to adopt a new member into our little family, I’ll make sure to let you kiddos know in advance,” he chirped with his eyes crinkled. The gleeful expression didn’t fade a bit as his words prompted Roman and Logan to burst into brand new diatribes.  

“Wait, is ‘lure them with sweet snacks’ your usual go-to? Did that work on me--?” 

“Patton, we are not kidnapping local fauna--!” 

Yup, familiar sounds indeed. 

---

The rest of the morning was spent trekking through the woods and filling the air with companionable bickering, but by midday, Roman had found tracks. And then he found more tracks. And finally, he found The Tracks.

Unlike the first few instances, Logan was unable to confidently match the bipedal mammalian prints to any native creature in the area. After some triumphant crowing about his skills, Roman led the way with significantly less chatter, prompting the other two to follow suit as dusk slowly began to fall. 

Patton kept his feathers sleek against him so they wouldn’t brush roughly against the foliage, and made sure his glow was as muted as possible as the sky darkened. He didn’t come on bounty trips often, but every proper Ampen knew how to be stealthy when need be. Some made a whole career out of it!

Between one heavy step and the next, Roman suddenly stilled, holding up a clawed hand to ensure they did the same. His ear cones shifted subtly, searching. The moment stretched, tension so thick it felt stifling, and then--

A slight sound to the left. Movement.

“There!” Roman shouted, and a dark shape flashed past Patton, silhouetted by the moonlight off the pale rock wall behind it. It was big. Definitely not a Humlilt. “Cut it off!” 

Logan was already in motion, spines raised as he held out his staff and barred the creature's way. He flicked the glow light at the top of the staff on and illuminated the outline of the being, which seemed almost fibrous in nature. Patton knew of some planets with mostly chlorophyll-based lifeforms, and this almost seemed to match. The creature had a body erupting with brush and plant matter, and a face of flat wood.

“Drive it this way,” Roman called. “I’ve got the unit ready!” 

It hissed furiously as Logan swung the light closer, and Patton saw the moment it turned its head slightly and realized it was being corralled. It lunged forward in a feint, and then ducked away from Logan’s swing and grabbed the staff, wrestling viciously with the smaller alien for it. The reflected light seemed to shine eerily in the back of its hole-like eyes.

Patton hurried forwards, but he wasn’t close enough to stop the creature from wrenching the staff out of Logan’s grip, knocking the Ulgorian over in the process. Roman shouted, too far away to intervene. Logan shot a few spines, but they weren’t laced and barely seemed to phase the creature. It screamed gutturally as it lifted the staff up, and Patton forgot every promise he’d made to stay out of the way of any quarry larger than him.   

“Stop!” he screeched, throwing his arms out and letting his feathers flare up as bright as they could go. 

The distraction worked; the creature twisted away from Logan to focus on the new element, jolting forward a few steps before distinctly pausing, its shining eyes fixated on Patton. It took another smaller step towards him, tilting what Patton assumed was its head. 

“Little critter!” 

“Wh-- what?” Patton replied, stunned.

“Little critter? ...Good morning, little critter?” the creature chirped again, uncertainly. Every syllable was a perfect imitation of the phrases Patton had called out the three mornings they’d been there, just a little muffled.

The creature dropped to a crouch, and the abruptness of the motion made Patton flinch, startled. As though repentant, it set the staff on the ground slowly, and then made the distinct musical tone of a Humlilt. 

Patton gaped, the pieces clicking into place. Not a Humlit. The Humlit. The one he’d been working so hard to befriend, the one following them around, the one that apparently wasn’t a Humlit at all. 

In the next moment, Roman’s charging footsteps arrived, and all traces of softness vanished from the creature’s demeanor as it rose to its feet with a snarl, turning to face off against Patton’s crewmate. 

This isn’t right, Patton thought, and didn’t wait another moment before inserting himself between the two larger aliens, whistling shrilly. “Wait!” 

At his back, Roman skidded to a halt, incredulous half-formed protests spilling from his mouth. 

At his front, the creature held its aggressive position for a heartbeat longer, and then lowered its hands slightly, stumbling back a step and looking between Patton and Roman with uncertain antsiness. 

“Little critter? Little critter good?” it chirped, and Patton could feel the way Roman and Logan stiffened behind him. 

“Hey, little critter,” Patton said, slowly moving to sit down on the dirt. “I think we got off on the wrong claw. You don’t really want to fight, do you?” 

The creature shuffled anxiously, and Patton tapped the ground behind him. “Roman, why don’t you join me?”  

“Pat, come on,” Roman started, and then grumpily lowered himself to a seated position at Patton’s imploring look.

Across from them, the creature visibly relaxed, head cocking to the side inquisitively. After a moment, it lowered itself into a crouch like before. 

Patton’s antennae fluttered, and his happy glow increased slightly. “Good job! We’re already halfway to being friends, huh?” 

“Good,” the creature echoed, voice still uncertain and so small. “Hurt no?” 

“We won’t hurt you,” Patton replied, and the creature’s head lifted up to look at Roman doubtfully.   

After a moment, Patton heard the click of Roman’s scales flattening out in a show of nonaggression, and the Crav’on sighed. 

“On my honor, I won’t hurt you if you remain peaceable,” he said, extending a hand palm up to symbolize his oath. 

To their surprise, the creature reached out and touched him, grazing the dull talons and poking some of his smaller scales with cautious curiosity. It mumbled something to itself in a language Patton didn’t know, and folded Roman’s fingers into a loose fist before finally releasing him. 

“He’s pretty cool, isn’t he?” Patton whispered conspiratorially, and the creature held a hand out to him in a mirroring of Roman’s earlier gesture. He reached out and put his little clawed fingers on their palm, marvelling at the size difference. “You’re no critter, huh?” 

He turned to the side, the strange alien following his gaze. “Lo, I can hear you taking notes from here. You wanna come say hi?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Logan replied sourly, clasping his hands behind his back. “I simply didn’t wish to startle-- oh!” 

Logan’s eyes went wide as the stranger stalked over, body still low in its crouch. The behavior read as classically predatory, but the curious mumbling of the stranger made it clear that they weren’t acting aggressively. He hesitantly offered one of his own thin-fingered hands, the stranger pressing their palms together as though to compare the shapes. 

“Hello there,” he greeted belatedly. “Can you understand me? I am Logan, and those are Roman and Patton.” 

“Little critter!” the stranger offered enthusiastically, and then dissolved into another string of that unfamiliar language before bounding off and returning with the glow staff in hand. 

Patton could feel the way Roman went tense, but the stranger slowed down as they got closer and then set the staff on the ground a little bit in front of Logan, rolling it a few inches towards him.  

Logan made no move to pick the staff, and it was easy to see why. The fluorescent lights installed in the head of the staff lit the stranger up from below, illuminating the details that they’d missed before.

Four thin, pale limbs were smudged with dirt and grit, the edges of tattered old textiles peeking out from under the carpet of greenery that cloaked them. They could now see that the foliage wasn’t part of them, but a dedicated attempt at camouflage, built up for so long that some of the plants were growing around their shoulders or tangling in their dark hair. Most striking of all, the wooden plate that had covered their face had been knocked slightly askew, revealing half of a round face with big eyes and tiny features.    

“You’re just a fledgeling,” Patton said, something in his chest tightening at the way the child’s gaze flickered between them, nervous but hopeful. The curiosity, the nervousness, it all made sense knowing that this was a youngling.

“No, that’s not just a child,” Roman spoke up, shaken. “That’s… that’s a Human child.” 

Patton and Logan turned to him, shocked, but the child reacted the quickest of all, shooting into a standing position. They clumsily darted back a step as all eyes fell on them, chest rising and falling rapidly. “No! No! No Human, go away!” 

“Kiddo,” Patton tried, but before he could do more than reach out, the child turned on their heel and vanished back into the underbrush. The rustling of their movements quickly faded, leaving the three of them sitting in the clearing in silence. 

“Are you certain?” Logan finally said, rising to his feet and approaching them. “Roman, you’re absolutely sure about this?” 

“I… yeah.” The Crav’on flexed his hand, almost dazed. “I thought they would be more-- I mean, yeah, I’m sure. There’s no mistaking those eyes.” 

“Very well,” Logan nodded, hands already dancing delicately around him as he committed the encounter to memory. “In that case, I suppose we’ll be staying on-planet for a little longer.” 

“Wait, what?” Roman asked, both of them turning to look at the Ulgorian with surprise. 

Logan glanced up at them with a raised brow, knowing and smug. “I don’t believe either of you are the type to leave a semi-feral Deathworlder child alone on a planet where the locals believe them to be a monster. Thus, we are staying to help rectify the situation. Am I incorrect?”

“It’s not that simple,” Roman cautioned, but faltered after a moment. “However… you’re right. We can’t just leave them here. They need help, Human or not.”

“That’s right!” Patton agreed enthusiastically, his feathers ruffling up in excitement. “Looks like we’re getting a new member of the family after all!” 

[blessedboo]

Need [Pipe Down #2] | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to get out of your post-breakup blues, but a certain someone clouded your mind all day. You decided to do something about it.

Requested: Yes (Thank you, my loves!)

Warnings: Cursing. Angst to fluff - fluff to smut (18+ Content) and then some more fluff.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: The reactions to Pipe Down were incredible. Y’all are so supportive, and fucking hilarious as well. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it’s not that great; feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading this sequel, it’s dedicated to all of you. Love ya!

You and Izzy were walking arm in arm back to her car, chatting, laughing. Times like these made you feel grateful to have her in your life, someone you could always count on to be there for you and lift your spirits. Honestly, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without your homegirl.

The laughter died down as you both sighed and continued walking in comfortable silence. You felt her eyes on you as she turned her head to face yours. She waited a few seconds before saying something, almost as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

“Alright, love. Be real with me now, are you sure you’re okay?”

You turned to face her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course, why?”

“You just seemed a little off back there. You’re usually downing mimosas with me by the minute, but instead you were staring off into space.” She paused for a second after saying that, abruptly stopping both of you in your tracks.

Her eyes widened as she side-eyed you, “Shiiit, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Your jaw dropped for a moment, shortly turning into a laugh as your head tipped back, shocked by her assumption.

“Girl, no. I do not have a baby in me. And if I did, trust me, you’d be the first one to know.”

“Well, my bad then,” she giggled.

After eventually getting in the car, Izzy thought it’d be nice to put the roof down, convertible style. Today’s light breeze and warm sun did you favors as your skin glowed and your hair flowed. You raised your arm up in the air, the brisk wind gently dancing around it as you jammed out to Brent Faiyaz, H.E.R and other R&B favorites.

You and Izzy sang simultaneously, screeching at the top of your lungs when it came to those high notes. It didn’t matter if it was good, it was a vibe.

Soon enough, the car began to approach your neighborhood. Izzy turned to you, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Wellll, where am I dropping you off to?”

”Where else? Home, babes,” you let out a small laugh and nudged her elbow for asking you that question.

“Mm, I know. But which one? Yours or your baby daddy’s?” She bit her lip and winked at you. “If you get what I mean ...”

Izzy knowingly wiggled her brows up and down, tongue in cheek. Your brows furrowed slightly as you shook your head at her, unsure of what she was implying.

It took you a good three seconds but Izzy knew you got the message when your eyes widened, rolling to the back of your head. She cheekily snickered at you as you did.

You gave her an unamused look and pinched the bridge of your nose, realizing she was referring to Oscar. And not just ‘Oscar,’ she referred to him as your “baby daddy”. Oh please, as if you’d ever let his fine ass him knock you up. 

Would I?

You knew she was only teasing, but what she said started getting to you. It made you overthink and you didn’t like it.  

“You know damn well he is not my baby daddy, nor will he ever be. We’re over, Iz - we have been for two weeks, you know that.”

She kissed her teeth and raised an eyebrow at you, dismissing your comment, or what she knew as your lies. She always saw right through you, you couldn’t fake anything with her even if you tried.

“Bitch,” she retorted with an annoyed inflection in her tone, “you can’t fool me. I put two and two together when I saw how you acted at brunch. No wonder, Spooky got you all in your feelings, and I’m sure it has something to do with whatever happened between you two this morning.”

“I-“ 

You were immediately cut off by her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t done scolding you.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass from saying something stupid.”

You had a mini-flashback to the moment you and Oscar shared right before she picked you up. You remembered how vulnerable you got in his arms, ready to spill all the pain you’d been feeling. You didn’t notice you started to slouch, or the frown that appeared on your face just then. But Izzy did.

She looked away to gather her thoughts before turning back to you, lips pulled to one side as she gave you an empathetic look. She grabbed your hand and clasped her fingers over it to comfort you.

“You miss him, huh?”

You couldn’t lie to her or yourself anymore. You sighed, “I’m angry at him. I’m upset with him—“

“But ...” Izzy added.

“—But I do miss him.” You groaned as you tipped your head back into the seat. You really missed him, and that longing feeling to be close to Oscar again was eating you up inside.

Longing for him to eat me up instead.

“Told ya,” Izzy smirked triumphantly, you scowled back at her in return.

“Not now, dumb ass.”

She chuckled before continuing the drive to your block.

—

“Alright, we’re here.”

The rest of the drive was silent, so deep in your daydream that you completely shut yourself off from your surroundings.

You looked at the house she parked at, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Iz, you’re a good couple of houses away from mine. We aren’t even on the right side of the street, this is Osca-“

You blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Izzy.”

She was looking down to avoid eye contact, but still smiling ever so mischievously. 

“Okay, don’t be mad, but—“

“IZ-“

“—BUT! I really think you should talk to him. You clearly aren’t over him, he probably isn’t over you. Both of you should stop being so stubborn, keep pride out of this, and have yourselves some bomb ass makeup sex.”

You whipped your head towards her, eyes bulging at the last remark.

“What? No sex? That’s cool too, that’s cool too. Maybe that’s just me then.”

You tried your best to stay annoyed at her, but you couldn’t help it. Your lips pulled into a smile as you admired your best friend. You let out a small chuckle before undoing your seat belt.

“I hate you.”

She grinned, “I know, I love you too.”

Izzy pulled you into a hug before you opened the car door and got out. You walked around, but she called out from behind as soon as you approached the lawn.

“Hey, wait!”

You spun your head around to look at her, forehead wrinkled as a questioning gesture.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” She exclaimed as she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, closed her fists, and did a back-and-forth pumping gesture with both arms at her sides to signal fucking.

Cheeks turning red, you palmed your face embarrassedly, “Oh God, please stop.”

Man, you really loved her.

You waved her off as she laughed, hurriedly making your way to Oscar’s front door before anyone saw that atrocity.

Here you were again for the second time today. Damn, he got you fucked up.

All that readiness you had a minute ago washed away, now being encompassed by anxiousness and self-doubt. Great, your favorite duo of terror.

Am I being too desperate?

This is a bad idea.

No, I love him. Just do it, coward.

At last, you raised your hand to the dreaded large plank of wood you stood in front of. “It’s now or never.”

One knock. Two knocks. And a third.

He’s fucking that blonde chick.

Abort mission.

Mayday! Mayda-

“Y/N ... Back so soon?” A shirtless Oscar leaned up against the doorframe, bright-eyed and flashing that sexy smirk.

In any other instance, you’d retort with a witty remark, fire back with some sass.

But this wasn’t any other instance.

You were hurting, and you were tired. You were tired of the lonely nights, tired of these mind games, tired of bottling it all up. Oscar took notice of your silence and the blank, but sad, expression on your face. He sensed something was wrong. He knew because he felt that way too. Regretting what he said, his features softened. His eyes drooped whilst muscles relaxed as he reached his arms out to you.

There were a million reasons to turn back around and run for the hills. Could you trust him not to break your heart again? Could you guarantee that everything will work out from that point on?

The truth is, you didn’t know.

But if there was anything you did know, it’s that if you ran now, you may never get this chance again.

You were hesitant, but you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his upper arm; a silent invite for him to embrace you. The corner of his lips curved into a small, sad smile. Neither of you had to speak to be able to empathize with each other. You felt each other’s everything. 

Pain. Frustration. Happiness. And everything in between. 

That was the beauty of your relationship.

He lead you inside before wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight, but tender, hug. The warmth of his bare body engulfed your entire being. Your hands followed suit as you moved them under his arms and clasped them onto each shoulder, your face tilted to fit like a puzzle piece in the crook of his tattooed neck.

You basked in each other’s silence as the comfort washed over you. It was dead-quiet in the house, and all you could hear were Oscar’s gentle breaths as he inhaled and exhaled on the tops of your cheeks. Along with the soft thumping of his heartbeat as he relaxed into you more and more as the moment went by.

As much as you appreciated the embrace, there were still probing thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind. You had questions and you needed answers.

“Oscar?”

“Hm?”

“Couch.”

“Okay.”

Removing yourselves from each other, you made your way into his living room. You sat side-by-side, not as close as a few seconds ago, but close enough to reach out for him just in case you needed to beat his ass.

You took a deep breath in before letting out a sigh that sounded like it was hidden in the depths of your body. 

“You told me you were too busy to be with me. That you needed space. That it wasn’t the best time to be in a relationship, and that we weren’t right for each other anyway. Too different.”

“I know, I-“

“But earlier you tell me you miss me. A lot, might I add. How do you think that makes me feel? That’s frustrating and confusing as fuck, Oscar!”

“Y/N, I know. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I knew I fucked up on that first night I spent without you. I was wrong, so goddamn wrong, and I hated myself for it.”

“So then why say it? Why, Oscar? We were doing so well, and then you drop the breakup bomb out of nowhere. And if you regretted it so much, why not talk to me the day after instead of ignoring me?”

“Because—“ He paused as he looked away. His open, expressive hands closing into a fist as he rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. This was a habit of his whenever he was anxious, annoyed, or anything of the sort. His nostrils flared as his eyebrows knitted together, lips curving downwards into a frown. You watched his actions intently, the battle he had with himself, his internal conflict, playing out in front of your eyes.

He sighed, “because I knew you’d be better off without me - in more ways than one. I’m a liability, nena. I bring more harm than good, to you and to Cesar.”

“—And with all that shit that went down with Cuchillos, I didn’t want you standing in the middle of the crossfire. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, so I pushed you away. So yes, I did need my space to handle my shit without you, and yes, I was too busy … too busy to give you the attention we both needed. But I never stopped loving you, I just wanted to protect you.”

Oscar’s breathing was heavy as he closed his eyes, lids tucking in tightly after the release of this built-up resentment.

My baby was protecting me, and he was hurting in the process.

Lightning struck you at the center of your heart and made it shatter into a million broken fragments. Or at least that’s what it felt like. You ached for him. You always did knowing the life he was living, but now more than ever. Your eyes welled up with tears, your head dropping down.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t fix what I did, but I pro-“

You cut him off by clasping one hand over his nape, and another on the side of his face as you pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. You didn’t do it out of pity. You didn’t do it to shut him up. You did it to reassure him, to calm his mind, to ease his blessed heart.

Prior to the two weeks of isolation, you were Oscar’s peace, and he yours. In a time he needed it most, he lost his peace, his only form of solace.

To say you felt bad was an understatement.

Your plump lips danced against his own. It was a tango of love and war. Longing, yet laced in suffering. The kiss was slow and sensual as the two lovers rekindled the flame that never truly died out. Beneath all that tenderness, both of your lips still fought for dominance. 

To claim the upper hand, he grabbed onto your waist and propped you onto his lap. With the close proximity of your rhythmically moving bodies, you inhaled deeply as the aroma of beer, cologne and cigarettes tickled your nose. The smell was intoxicating, pure bliss, and only he could pull it off. 

There were other things only he could pull off, like my clothes perhaps.

You could sense Oscar’s patience quickly dissipating with each taste of your soft, moist kisses. He couldn’t get enough of them, and two weeks away from them were two weeks too long. He lolled helplessly with his eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue. 

As the kiss got more heated, a sweet moan erupted from your throat. You were soaking up every ounce of loving he was giving you, hypnotized by the way he held you, felt you, caressed you. Oscar smiled against your lips as a result, bringing his hand up to the back of your head as his fingers tangled and intertwined with your locks to deepen his motions. 

You started to feel overwhelmed—in the best way possible—but he was, quite literally, taking your breath away. You unlatched your lips from his, both of you gasping for air simultaneously. You stared into each other’s eyes that glistened with lust and adoration. From the way you two were moving, you would’ve thought you had been away from each other for months. But that only seemed to prove the immense need and want for one another.

You stared at his now swollen, red, wet lips and giggled. He joined, chuckling as he saw your own, clearly enthusiastic at what he’d done to you. As he did, he brought a thumb up to wipe over your tear-stained cheeks.

“So ... does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asked sporting a cheeky, lopsided grin.

You licked your lips as you sat up on your knees, his thigh in between your legs whilst towering over him. Mindlessly, he ran his hands up your waist and down your hips, groping your thighs here and there ever so slightly.

“Hm,” you bit your fingernail pensively. Your eyes darkened with mischief as you thought of other ways he’d be able to make it up to you. You glared at him, biting your lip, “how badly do you miss me, baby?”

He smirked at your sudden burst of sexual prowess. “Badly, mamí.”

“Mm, what are you willing to do?”

“Anything.”

“Prove it. Prove that you missed me.” You coaxed, lust and desire laced your soft spoken voice.

And that was all he needed for him to unzip your shorts at a tantalizing pace, never breaking eye contact with you as he did. Maybe you deserved a little bit of teasing for the petty ‘mission’ you pulled earlier. You shimmied out of them impatiently, and he laughed at your attempt to hurry.

“What are you in a rush for, mamas? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” he reassured you as he cupped your face before placing a small, chaste kiss on your lips.

You sighed, nodding your head. Your body relaxed as you lowered yourself onto his lap again.

“You’re right. Do your thing, my love.”

He pecked your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth and peppered light kisses along your jawline. You loved how romantic he was before devouring you or fucking you senseless - such a deliciously dynamic man.

He lifted your chin up to tilt your head back, giving him more access to the soft skin of your neck. Needless to say, you weren’t expecting his lips to brush up against the sensitive area below your ear as he licked you with a long, single swipe of his tongue.

Goodbye, Mr. Romantic and hello, Daddy.

He nipped and sucked, and nipped and sucked. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing all around your neck and down to your collarbone as one hand was wrapped gently, yet firmly, around your throat, right under your chin to hold it up. Your breaths were shaky, light moans rolled off your lips naturally, and a very apparent pool formed in your black lace panties.

Oscar unwrapped the knot of your top, letting the sleeves fall down your arms. His fingers slid on your smooth skin as he took it off completely.

“Damn, baby,” he whispered as he wishfully gazed at your breasts, passion shadowing over him. You placed your hands on his chest, nails lightly scratching the bare skin as you dragged them down. His lips parted in response, his excited heartbeats could be felt under your fingertips. From the heavy breathing to the glossy beads of sweat that glistened on his tanned skin, the atmosphere of the room got dense - air heavy, sexual tension thick. 

With an expert flick of his fingers, your bra was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Oscar’s big hands were on your waist and back, ensuring there was no way to escape. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else anyway. 

He wasted no time latching onto your right nipple, cupping your plump assets as he groped and squeezed teasingly. His tongue danced fluently over the swell of your breast, evoking a porn-worthy moan that reverberated against the four walls of the small room. The wet sensation combined with the tantalizingly sensual circular motions were heavenly. 

“Oh God,” you whimpered breathlessly. Though, it would be best if you kept God out of your sexual endeavours. 

Oscar didn’t forget about your left nipple as he alternated between pinching, tugging and rolling it in between his index and thumb. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking his two digits and then continuing his actions.

How considerate of him, you thought. He wanted to give both of your eager breasts the same type of attention, cute. 

As you ground your hips against his thigh, subtly getting off from the pressure hitting your core, he felt the moistness that started to coat the thin fabric and your inner thighs. Your nipple left the warmth of his mouth and was now encompassed by the cool air. You shivered at the new sensation, instantly missing the feel of his lips as you pouted. 

Smirking, he looked down, catching you in the act of your mini joyride. 

“Naughty.”

You giggled, “Maybe a little.”

He hummed amusingly before gently pushing your chest backwards so that you could lay down flat on the couch. He crawled to hover over you, letting out a groan as he bit his lip and took in your current state. The woman he cherished was sprawled half-naked on the couch, swollen breasts rising up and down, looking up at him with big love-hazed eyes and plump pouty lips as you waited for him to please you. 

In his eyes, it was the most angelic sight. You loved the way he looked at you as if you were the center of his universe. You smiled at him, following with a wink.

His face inched closer to yours as he gave you a sweet kiss before planting many of them on a trail from your neck, to the valley in between your breasts, and finally to the awaited destination. 

He looked up at you through his gorgeous, long lashes. He kept that hungry glare pointed on you as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, dragging them down swiftly. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. If it was even possible, your arousal got more wet at the thought of his mouth on your pussy. You wanted him so bad, it was painful. 

“Please,” you pleaded. “I need you.”

That breathy whimper set him off. He didn't bother teasing the surrounding area as usual. He was starving, and he was gon’ feast like his life depended on it. 

As he lowered himself, the cold metal of his cross grazed your lips. You jumped at the stinging chill, a sensation that amplified tenfold due to the already aching area.

He ran two fingers up and down your soaking slit, spreading the two lips, then rubbing them closer together, and repeating. As his fingers occasionally brushed along your swollen clit, your thighs would involuntarily clench at the sensitivity. He followed your body’s requests by rubbing the bud in gentle circles, applying just enough pressure to stimulate you. He would press down on it every now and then, which would really get you going. 

At this point, you were already a whimpering mess for him and he loved it. 

“You want more, nena?” 

Unable to comprehend any words, you simply nodded. Now tugging and rolling at your throbbing bundle of nerves, “No no, I want you to tell me. Let me hear that voice.”

“Yes,” you whispered, “… M-more,” was all you managed to get out in a broken moan. 

Oscar gripped your thighs as he dropped his head down to your core. You were immediately met with a long lick that flattened against your entrance, from bottom to top.  You gasped at the moist feeling of his velvet tongue combined with the warm breaths that lingered on your skin. 

He spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back, allowing more access for him to hit all the right spots. His lips smothered your pussy with sloppy, deep kisses.

He was french-kissing the fuck out of your core, and your endless cries only encouraged him to keep going. 

His tongue curled up to flick your clit rapidly before easing your pleasure with soft circular motions. Not wanting to lose his rhythm, he closed in on your pearl, sucking on it tenderly as his fingers wandered in between your folds.

“Oh Daddy… Fuck yeah,” you hissed. 

“Mm, you like that?” He groaned.

“Yes! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” were only some of the obscenities that rolled off your tongue. 

Well, his tongue was doing most of the rolling. 

Your pussy was throbbing, aching for release. Breathless, you propped yourself up on one arm to get a glimpse of the action. Your fluids flowed out of you - it was ‘The Y/N River’ down there. They coated your walls, Oscar’s beard and definitely drenched the couch material under you. 

But he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it drove him wild. He lapped up your juices in quick, yet deliberate, movements of his tongue. 

Feeling him do it was pleasurable enough, but watching his determination play out on your sex was a whole new level of sexy, and eventually brought you closer to release. Your back arched, your hips bucked and you were a moaning disaster. 

“Fuck! Fuuuck! Baby … I- … Ah, shit! … I’m g-gonna come. Just like that, yes. Yes!”

Your orgasm was bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You were so close.

“Fuck. Come. Come for me, mamí.”

His mouth attacked your pussy greedily, fingers doing quick work of rubbing your folds in ‘figure eights’. He used two of his digits to spread your folds as he tongue-fucked you. One of your hands held onto the back of his scalp, while the nails of the other dug into his broad shoulder so deeply you were scared to puncture skin.

Him egging you on and praising you nonstop was the last straw. He grumbled against your soaked core as your thighs clenched together. His name left your lips in a cry, over and over. 

Like a chant, or more so a prayer. 

You shook and shuddered uncontrollably during your throes of passion, your back landing onto the couch from the euphoric exhaustion. Your head tipped back in ecstasy as he cupped your core gently, hushing you into a state of ease.

Your breaths became less heavy as seconds passed by. You sighed before slightly turning your head upwards, only to catch your man staring at you intently. A big ol’ cheesy grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Beautiful,” he hummed. 

You shook your head, laughing at his cuteness. 

When your legs somewhat regained their strength, you sat up and clung onto his torso. The both of you laid back upright on the couch. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring you closer. Placing a hand on his chest, the beats of his heart drummed for you. 

You smiled, and as if you communicated telepathically, you both looked at each other like lovestruck puppies. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Oscar.”

“Pase lo que pase?”

“Pase lo que pase.”  

You cupped his cheek as your two lips connected. A sweet kiss to seal the deal.

“So what are we going to do about this?” He asked, gesturing towards the obvious tent in his pants. You rolled your eyes, not being able to resist a small laugh. “You always have to ruin the mood, hm?”

“What? I’ve got needs too, Y/N.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting you get off that easy. You’ve gotta work for it.” If looks could kill; he death-stared you down as his brows knitted together. “Eating you out ain’t enough?”

“Oh baby, no. That makes up for at least a week's worth. Cook me breakfast tomorrow, and you’ll be on the right path.”

He squinted at you unamusedly, along with slightly flared nostrils and lips pulled a straight line. “Seriously?”

“Very serious,” you raised your brow at him, sporting a cheeky smirk. 

He groaned while running a palm over his face, an eye roll on display right after. “Fine. So spoilt.”

“Keep that attitude up, boy. I’ll have you sleeping on the couch too.”

He scoffed as his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He bit down on his bottom lip as he shook his head at you. It wasn’t long before he was towering over you, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you over his shoulder - ass out, facing skyward.

You gasped before squealing as you smacked your hands against his back. 

“What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“Nah. I make you come, and all of a sudden you’re bossing me around in my own house,” he retorted while sending a nice slap against your ass. “Must be out yo’ damn mind.”

Your bickering continued all the way into the bedroom. It was an evening of love and laughter, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

Pase lo que pase - No matter what / Whatever happens

[janetbrown711]

"My head hurts" - Dot

There were three things Yakko hated most in the world: King Salazar, moving ‘homes’, and winter. 

Yakko’s hatred of Salazar was clear: he was responsible for where they were now. It was his fault they were homeless orphans in a town that was going progressively downhill. He was raising taxes without a thought about what it was doing to the citizens. It drove Yakko insane, especially since this tax went down to the smallest child. Every time they earned just enough money for a new blanket or maybe a warm meal made by someone else for once, it was taken away by that stupid baron Thaddeus Von Plotz. 

It was because of King Salazar that the stores and shops kept shutting down, and reopening just to shut down again.  It made it especially hard for them to find a stable place to live. Just when they’d get settled into an abandoned jewelry shop, policemen would come and tell them to scram and that some other shop that was doomed to fail was replacing it. 

The worst part about changing ‘homes’ was how difficult it clearly was for Dot. Wakko was usually gone during the days, trying to find odd little jobs to do around the town, or hunt for rabbits for them to eat for dinner if they didn’t have money to buy food. Dot, however, was just five years old now. She didn’t have any memories of their parents, or even of the orphanage. Yakko spent his days with her, trying to teach her to read and write with what he had around, or playing her silly games, but with her hanging around “home” so often, she always got just too attached right before they’d have to move again. She always looked so heartbroken as she looked back and said goodbye to the building. 

Winter. 

Yakko hated winter a lot, it was in a close second to King Salazar. It snowed a lot in Acme Falls, and Yakko was thankful they had fur, or else all of them would’ve caught hypothermia by now.

Winter’s were especially hard when they had to move around. Sometimes there weren’t buildings and they’d have to spend the next few days in the alleys. That was when they were practically guaranteed to get sick. It was never too serious, and they were usually just cases of flu that lasted a few days before going away. Yakko had a tendency to be a ‘worry-wart’ in the words of Wakko, which he couldn’t deny. He just... couldn’t afford to lose them. 

“Yakko, when is Wakko coming back?” Dot asked, holding a very worn out rag doll Yakko had gotten her for her third birthday, before the taxing would’ve made it impossible. 

“He’ll be back soon,” Yakko said, as he looked through what food they had left to see if they could have lunch today. Dot frowned a little. 

“Y-yakko my head hurts,” Dot said. 

“Go lay down, I’m sure it’ll go away,” Yakko brushed it off. Dot tended to exaggerate things when she wanted attention. It was probably just from hunger- not that Yakko could blame her, but it was nothing lunch could hopefully fix. 

“Okay... I’ll go lie down,” Dot nodded and went to their bed, which was really just a pile of blankets on the floor, and curled up into a ball. Yakko frowned at that, but shrugged it off again. He really did need to relax more, he always got so wrapped up in his own head, and it never did anyone any good. 

“It’s just because she’s hungry,” He thought to himself. Yakko returned to the food and sighed. Hopefully Wakko could make more than a ha’penny this time because they were running low on bread. 

Still, something was off with Dot today so it was probably best to have at least a little something to settle her over for now. Hopefully, they’d be okay...

Yakko wasn’t surprised when it started to snow outside. He muttered to himself as he got the materials for a fire and set them aside to do later. Hopefully, it wouldn’t snow too much, or else they’d be able to make snowmen with how many holes were in the ceiling. 

“I’m back!” Wakko announced as he re-entered the small building. 

“Took you long enough, what do you have?” Yakko asked. 

“I was lucky and got myself three ha’pennies today,” Wakko beamed with pride. Yakko did his best to be happy as well, but, well- ha’pennies weren’t exactly as valuable as Wakko believed. Still, it could buy them a little more food, which meant Wakko didn’t have to hunt and could play with Dot like she wanted. 

“That’s good Wak. We can buy some more bread with that and have some for dinner,” Yakko said. Wakko nodded happily. 

“Look Dot! I got three- is she okay?” Wakko went to brag to his little sister, but quickly dropped his attitude. 

“Her head hurts, I’m sure it’s just because she’s hungry. She hardly ate yesterday,” Yakko stated. 

“Neither did we and we’re fine,” Wakko frowned. 

“We’re bigger than she is, it means more to her than us,” Yakko sighed and shrugged. That detail did bug him, but he had other things to focus on for the moment. He shivered as he felt the building shake as harsh winds began to mix in with the snow.

For instance, he had a fire to start.. somewhere. 

It was really hard to start fires in places that didn’t have an oven. If it hadn’t been snowing he would have tried outside. Still, he had collected rocks, sticks and had even gotten some firewood and it was cold enough to warrant using it. Even though he hated it most times, he was glad for once the floor was dirt and not wood. 

As he started pilling the wood, he felt his younger brother hovering around him curiously. Yakko chuckled at that. He had been doing that since he could walk; some things never change. 

“If you want to help start the fire, you can just say so Wak,” Yakko grinned. Wakko, not one to be embarrassed easily, beamed, and picked up the stones Yakko had gathered days before and started putting them in a circle around the fire. Yakko didn’t really know why people did that with fires, but it made them look nicer and it made a clear barrier Dot and Wakko knew not to cross.

“Eventually, they had gathered everything around. Yakko grabbed the box of matches they had, and did his best to hide his frown as he realized they only had four left. 

“Better make them count,” He thought, sighing aloud. He of course could’ve tried the old fashioned way, but those fires tended to end poorly, and usually gave the ever impulsive Wakko ideas. It was simply better to use matches. 

Finally, the fire had been lit and Yakko felt himself sigh a breath of relief mixed with tiredness. Who knew it was utterly exhausting to have to raise a five-year-old, and an eight-year-old when you were only eleven-almost-twelve. He grabbed their bag of food and handed Wakko a piece of bread and some grapes before standing up and going to Dot. 

“Hey Dot, we’re eating lunch now and-” Yakko paused when he noticed how damp her fur looked. He looked up and frowned when he saw that there wasn’t a hole above her that would’ve caused snow to fall on her. 

Then she coughed. 

It wasn’t a normal cough, it was loud, it was messy, and it was long. 

“D-dot? Are you okay?” Yakko asked, trying to hide his panic. Dot shivered and clutched the blanket around her tighter. 

Oh god- this was bad. This was really really bad. 

“Wakko, where did you put your ha’pennies?” Yakko asked, turning to him. 

“Right here- what’s wrong with Dot?” Wakko said, his ears lowered in worry. 

“We have to take her to the doctor- Now.” Yakko stated. 

“Now? Is she okay?” Wakko looked much more frightened. Yakko never took them to the doctor for anything unless he felt it was serious (like when Wakko had broken his arm hunting once). 

“Y-yak-” Dot had tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse. Yakko cringed as he picked her up. She suddenly felt a lot lighter than she had before. 

This was really really bad. 

“Don’t say anything Dot, it’s gonna be okay,” Yakko said, stroking her head softly.

However, the universe seemed to be out to prove him wrong as the door swung open and snow and fiercely bitter winds broke into the small place and immediately put the fire out. 

So much for making the most out of that match.

Yakko shook his head, he didn’t have time to focus on that, Dot was sick. Really sick. He needed to get her to a doctor asap. 

“Stay here Wak, it’ll be safer in here than out there,” Yakko said. Wakko shook his head profusely. 

“I wanna go with you. We need to stick together,” Wakko insisted. Yakko looked at him and couldn’t help but be reminded of that night five years ago...

Yakko shook his head to snap himself out of it. “Fine, but hold onto my tail. I can’t lose you in the storm,” Yakko said, and was relieved when Wakko didn’t protest. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath for strength and headed out into the storm for the doctors.

Yakko usually forbade his sibs from walking during a snow storm for very obvious reasons. One, they could get frostbite or hypothermia or just get really cold; Two, the roads were covered in ice and they could easily slip and hurt themselves; and Three, it was just generally a really bad idea. 

That didn’t stop Yakko though. He was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t hesitate to take off his own coat and wrap his little sister in it. If it weren’t for the direness of the situation, he would’ve laughed at how it engulfed her. 

He kept marching on. 

The walk was a lot longer than Yakko expected, but with the snow piling up and the weight of carrying his sister and feeling his brother’s pull on his tail, plus the lack of visibility were all making it a whole lot more difficult than it had to be. 

“Yakko! I think you walked past it!” Wakko shouted from behind to be heard over the wind. 

Walked past it? No, he wouldn’t have-

He looked above and noticed they were all the way at the bakery, three buildings over from the doctor’s office. 

“This is what you get for complaining Yakko. Keep this up and she’ll be de-”

No. He couldn’t think like that. He turned around and ran as quickly as he could to the doctors without slipping. He cursed when the stupid door was locked. Wakko tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to step aside. Yakko obeyed and Wakko began banging on the door as hard as he could. 

“Ve are closed can’t you read- Oh. The Warners. Vhat do ve have here?” The familiar doctor puzzled. Ignoring the rude implications, Yakko leaned Dot towards him and the doctor gasped and let them come in immediately. 

Thank goodness the doctor was doing well for himself still because his building was nice and toasty. Doctor Scratnsniff closed and locked the door once more after they got in. 

“Vhat is the matter vis Dot?” He asked, gesturing for Yakko to hand her over. Yakko hesitated but obliged. 

“I don’t know... I-i thought she was just tired because she was hungry but when I checked up on her later she was sweaty, a-and she had a cough. A really bad one,” Yakko said. 

“How far did you walk to come here? It vas very far, no?” He asked as he hurried off to his examination table. Yakko and Wakko followed. 

“Very far,” Wakko said. 

“And in a blizzard nonetheless. You two must really care,” Dr. Scratchnsniff said, checking her vitals. 

Yakko scoffed. Was he daft? He had known them since they had moved to Acme Falls and he was surprised they cared about her? 

“Zis is bad... zis is very bad...” The doctor muttered in hopes that the other two sibs wouldn’t hear, but Yakko heard it clear as day. 

“What’s the matter doc?” Yakko said, sticking his hands in his pant pockets nervously. 

“I’m afraid Dot is very ill-”

“Can you fix her?” Wakko interrupted. Scratchnsniff sighed. 

“I do not know. Zis illness... it comes and goes. To remove it would require surgery which is expensive and dangerous, especially around zis time of year,” He scratched the back of his bald head. 

“N-no... there... there has to be something you can do,” Yakko pleaded. 

“I’m sorry Yakko... there isn’t much I can do except recommend a diet and hope for the best. Like I said, it comes and goes,” He explained. 

“Please, we’ll do anything,” Yakko said. Scratchnsniff sighed. 

“I’ll give you a list,” He said. 

Good. At least the doctor wasn’t that daft and heartless. 

“You kiddies should stay here for the next while though, Dot needs her strength and a warm environment ja?” He said as he went to get a piece of paper. Yakko and Wakko shared a look. 

“We only have three ha’pennies...” Wakko said, looking at the ground. “Will that cover it..?” 

Yakko saw Scratchnsniff pause. 

“Guess he isn’t doing as well as I thought,” Yakko thought. 

“Zat will get you three days, ja? Zat should be enough time for her to regain her strength,” He said. Wakko smiled. 

“Thanks scratchy!” He said, hugging the doctor. 

“You’re very velcome Vakko,” He patted his head, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture but too polite to say otherwise. 

“Yeah, thanks doc,” Yakko said, keeping his distance and walking over to Dot.

“Yeah, thanks doc,” Yakko said, keeping his distance and walking over to Dot.

“Y-yakko...” Dot shivered.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay Dot,” Yakko said, trying his best not to look overwhelmed with worry.

“Wh-where- wh-when-” Dot looked around wearily.

“It’s okay Dot. We’re at the doctor's. Just get some rest, okay? You’re gonna need your strength,” Yakko said, stroking her head.

“A-am I okay?” Dot asked, looking at him wearily.

“You’ll be okay Dot. Everything is gonna be okay," He said, not really believing it, but he willed himself to look like he believed it for her. It wasn't easy, as she went into another nasty coughing fit. After that, Dot shivered and reached out for his hand wearily. He gave it to her, and she placed it under her cheek and embraced it. Yakko thought he might cry.

"It's gonna be okay, Dot. You're gonna be okay."

"You have to," he silently added.

He couldn't afford to lose her too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[feralcherry]

Naruto takes that might enrage you (girl addition)

Warning, some of these takes might enrage you- that’s fine.

Fillers don’t count as canon, don’t even bring them up if you talk about this post lol. Also it’s been a while since I’ve seen the whole series, so some of these might be disproven as I continue with my rewatch. The excuse that Shounen is for boys is also very weak and holds no weight, as tons of girls (and nonbinary folk) relate to the characters in this show, so that doesn’t excuse Kishimoto for his weak writing of women.

To preface, I love this show. Love it to pieces. It was part of my childhood and holds a very special place in my heart. But there are some things I personally don’t like or wish could have been done better. I love every character and will go blue in the face talking about how much I still love this show. That doesn’t free it from my criticism. I’m also only listing what I don’t like and what I would change, though I’d be more than happy making a post about what I loved.

Let’s start off with my girl Sakura Haruno. She is easily the most hated girl in the series, and all because of how ‘weak’ or ‘annoying’ she is. As if that’s not the fault of Kishimoto himself lol. She was shoved off to the side continuously and never given cool storylines, unlike the other members of her team.

What I took issue with about Sakura:

-What were this girls dreams?? The whole reason she became a ninja was never really talked about nor were they really developed as time went on. She was all about Sasuke, which would be fine if she grew out of it. But no. 

-Her crush on Sasuke was super stale. He was handsome and powerful, but what else was there to him? He was a jerk to her most of the time (there are some instances he’s somewhat kind to her, but if we go off canon, it’s not enough to make her deep love make sense). I think it would have been so much more interesting to see her grow out of her infatuation for him. If they had to have ended up together, watching them relearn each other and fall in love would have made them more compelling. She stayed loving a boy who thought very little of her. 

-She’s pitted against her best friend and doesn’t develop much of a relationship with other girls her age. It’s kind of sad, and I think they should have fought over something other than a boy. 

-We are told repeatedly that she’s super powerful by other characters, but she’s never given time to truly shine. She got like a single battle with Sasori and she deserved more cool moments like that!

-She was a healer, which makes perfect sense. But why is it mostly girls who are the healers? It’s a bit weird, when there’s also Neji with his perfect chakra control. She only has her healing abilities and her super strength; but even then someone like Kabuto has more offensive healing based techniques than her. Like his chakra scalpel. 

What I would fix:

-New dreams. Show her find a dream outside of her team and grow into it. Also give her more of a backstory. Sai has more of a backstory than she does and he’s way newer than she is.

-I would let her fuck up one of the Peins instead of Konohomaru- she’s a main character and passed over for that little brat?? She should have gotten to do more than scream out for Naruto and heal people :/ 

-She her intellect a bit more. She’s so smart, and yet we don’t really see it.

-She’s perfect for genjutsu, Kakashi himself said so. So why not give that to her? Or play more with ninjutsu. She has earth and water on her chart, so why not give her those abilities? Maybe even wood jutsu to even her out with her super OP teammates. Idk how, it could have happened, this is a show full of demons and god like abilities, it could have happened someway.

-She should have grown out of Sasuke and not married a man who doesn’t really appreciate her and isn’t there for her at all.

-I would totally have expanded on Inner Sakura more. Imagine if it made her mind impenetrable? Could have woven that in with her skills for genjutsu and made her unaffected by other’s illusions.

Next, let’s go with a more beloved character of the fandom. Hinata. Now personally I don’t care much for her- she could have been so cool but just like Sakura, they kind of messed her up.

What I didn’t like about Hinata:

-Her entire existence is revolves around Naruto. Naruto this, Naruto that- and yet she simply sat back and watched as his life was shit and did nothing despite her ‘love’ for him. And then fillers/movies are added to show that oh wait! she’s been there this entire time!! no lol. Build her up from the start as his love interest at the very least.

-She stayed super meek the entire time. Shy girls are okay, but I wanted to see her grow into herself more and not need as much reassurance. She’s a ninja and should stand on her own two feet more.

-She’s less skilled then Neji and I would have loved to see her outmatch him at some point, even once. Or gain abilities outside of her clan, or do something that made a name for herself outside of being the heiress of the Hyuga.

-She never fixed her clan which was one of her few spoken goals. That was a huge bummer.

-I think it would have been cool to see her mess up Pein a little more. She only stepped in because it was Naruto, which reinforces that she’s only about him. But at least let her land a hit if she’s as powerful as people say she is. 

-She makes the most sense to be a housewife or a healer with the way her attitude is but in Boruto, she’s kind of rewritten to be a ‘scary’ mother which just doesn’t fit her. Plus, she tells Boruto to go and take care of his dad?? Bro, that’s your child and your husband is the hokage. 

What I’d fix:

-Prove her dad wrong and show him that her compassion isn’t a weakness but a strength. 

-Fix the Hyuga clan bs.

-More character growth and showing more of her life away from Naruto. Her romance with him could also have been better. I hated her always watching him but never standing up for him, it kills me.

-Neij dying for her proved their clans hierarchy bs to be right and it just doesn’t make sense for him to die for her. It showed that he was right to feel caged and that he simply existed for the benefit of the Main family.

Now with the others, there’s much less I have to say about them because they aren’t main characters or the love interests.

Ino-

-Jealous of Sakura, no dreams of her own, stupidly loves Sasuke and for what? WHAT’S SO COOL ABOUT HIM?

-I like her growth for the most part, it was cool watching her fight in the War Arc with her team. 

-Why is she the medical ninja? I never got that.

-She got with Sai but they didn’t really show their development and how they fell in love with each other. It’s like she only likes him because he looks like Sasuke and called her pretty once.

Tenten-

-Should have gotten to train with Tsunade at some point, since she was the one who originally idolized her. 

-We know nothing about this girl at all. She doesn’t even have a last name.

-Her weapon usage was meant to be so cool and yet she missed so often- there’s a disconnect there. Her abilities could have been built up more. Imagine if no matter what she never ever missed. That would have been cool.

-Her weapon shop isn’t doing well. Just because it’s an era of peace doesn’t mean the need for weapons is totally over, not if there are still active ninja??

Karin-

-I actually like her, she’s kind of funny and I like that she’s mean even if she can get annoying.

-Again, another healer, though she’s also sensory which is more interesting. I’d like to see her with some jutsus though. That would have been neat.

-Her love for Sasuke makes sense since he saved her and smiled at her, making her think of him as her hero. And she’s the only one he apologizes to without Naruto strong arming him into it.

Temari-

-She’s pretty solid in my opinion. Though I would have loved to see her more without her brothers.

Konan-

-Her goals in life were to support Yahiko and Nagito’s dreams. It would irritate me so much if other girls in the series were more well rounded and din’t also have some sort of dream involving a boy.

-She was underused. I would have loved to see her fight more.

Tsunade-

-Only becomes hokage to support others dreams...All of them men. And then later passes the title onto Kakashi who doesn’t even want to be Hokage either. 

-No other justus used, she’s on par with Jiraya and Orochimaru and yet she’s only super strong and the best medic. She should theoretically be more well rounded than that, right? She also should be shown fighting more even if she’s a medic, she’s also s legendary sannin 

-Had to be saved by 12 year old Naruto. I know it’s a show about him, but she’s meant to be a literal badass but needs a kid to save her.

Kushina-

-Wanted to become the first woman hokage and then didn’t. Her husband did. and then she became a housewife?? What?? She should have become the first woman hokage with a badass husband or had another prominent role in the village like as a council member or something.

Kurenai-

-Always lost a fight? She’s some genjutsu using badass but always lost fights.

-No real personality, she’s just chilling there. Sexy as hell though. Has a kid and that’s about it.

-What I will give her is that I’m so glad she was allowed to age. So many anime mothers always look the same as their teenage self and she looks like she can be anybody's mama.

Over all, the girls could have been handled much better. I wouldn’t find issues with any of them being housewives or all about boys if that weren’t what seems to be the standard in the anime. I just wanted more of a variety and better character development, especially for Sakura and Hinata who are the mains 😩

Now to what might REALLY piss people off- ships! I’m not trying to start some war here, this is just my opinion and you can take it or leave it.

Sakura- Naruto, since they had the most development and showed more than two seconds of caring for each other. Even Sai in Shippuden has more of a connection to Sakura than Sasuke did.

Ino-Shikamaru, if she had to end up with a guy it makes sense it’d be him since they spend more time together than her and Sai did. (inosaku for the win tho)

Hinata-Shino or Kiba, again, because they spent more time with her. Naruto and her felt very rushed and I don’t quite understand the appeal.

The one that made the most sense and became canon was Shikatem, though their son’s design was lazy :D 

If I do a second part, it’ll be about the boys and the ships with them that made sense to me. For now, this is all I have. If you’ve made it this far, thank you lol

byeee