#interact with fandom the way it's supposed to be and stop trying to bury us alive please and thank you

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Hey guys

Just letting yall know that the only way a fandom dies is if we let it

Keep creating shit and it won't die that's just how this works the original content doesn't matter people are making shit for stuff thats never going to get more content

Y'all don't need a continuous feed of source content to keep a fandom 'alive' just look at like

A lot of fucking fandoms

[bronx-bomber87]

Good evening Fandom :) Gonna try and be more concise and mini this time haha Wasn’t so mini last time. Imma really try LOL Also the gif library just refuses to pull anything that's new and its driving me nuts. Guess all the pretty gifs will have to wait till summer when the library gets it's act together and I can be more in depth. LOL This is supposed to mini anyways. I'll do my best to make this brief but impactful haha This is a new gear for me.

6x02 The Hammer

Their first interaction is fraught af. Tim is radiating hurt still not that I blame him. He is trying to sweep it under the rug but the man is hurting. I do love Lucy trying to let him know not how healthy communication works. heh She's not wrong. You know I was so Tim in this moment before therapy. Surprise surprise right?

Deeply hurt but when it gets brought up I shirked it off. Try to put it in a box and bury it. Lucy is right it’s not healthy. But he isn’t in the place to receive that right now. I do love her saying they have stuff to talk about if she ever goes under. Yes.... yes you do. Lucy seems to have calmed down at this point and Tim isn’t there yet…

Credit to This post for this image

Lucy getting roped into the ring thing LOL Their tension is immediate as they sandwich Angela in their fight. Angela is the fandom as she watches them bicker. My goodness not hiding how they feel whatsoever….Tense af while they’re fighting. Could cut it with a knife. Sniping at each other. Tim saying he knew she wasn't really over it.

Which kills my 'calmed down' theory for Lucy haha Even though they're at odds Tim still offers his help because it's his girl. Lucy saying she will accept it even if she doesn’t need it. These two.. Angela's final words had me laughing. Wanting to come and enjoy their fight with popcorn. Tim saying she’s not funny on the way out hahaha Not in the mood for his bestie either.

Love Lucy reaching out to touch him and make a joke bout Hammer's real name. Tim full of sass asking if he can finish? Well I never Timothy. LOL He has a warrant out and it’s outstanding that'll make this easy.... Even worse he loves to fight cops. Oh boy. Ladies first lmfao oh Tim I love you so. Putting his hand on her back. She’s smiling though.

OMG I can’t believe Tim tried to get her to fight the Hammer. My love no.... Her argument is solid af that she has to look amazing. That no one cares what he looks like. I mean I care what he looks like but it’s true she needs to look hot at haha Tim caving because well it's Lucy. Like fighting the sun right now. heh Lucy telling him he’s got this. Oh my lord it's so cute.

Lucy wanting to jump in but Tim stops her. My heart. He’s getting his ass kicked at first oof. Tim launching off the bed to kick Hammer into the closet. Holy shit that was sexy. I hope this fight gets gif'd it was great. He wins though. Well done Tim that was fine as hell. Got my motor revving.

Oh my goodness him bending on one knee and looking at her. The looks are LOADED here. Especially on Lucy's end. Getting me all in my feels goodness. Especially Lucy’s face. Myriad of emotions going on there. Foreshadowing at it's finest Oh my. I have a feeling when do the summer review I'll have a novel on this. Tim passes the hell out shortly after. Getting asthma attack just looking at him.

Love the set up girls night/boys night and their talk bout their relationship. Celina asking Lucy to have less baking at her party HA! Naww love Celina thinking in those terms. Lucy saying that's way off. Seeming worried it’s not in their future. Heart clutch. Adore this back and forth between Lucy and Tim at the parties LOVING Chastity telling Lucy like it is. Calling her out really. Even she can see it. I mean feel like Lucy is scared and just won't back down from this path.

It's not just Tim. It's her too but she is digging her heels in. I can’t say I don’t agree with Tim on the projection. Lucy using Isabel as an excuse for that. I think she is using it more than he is IMO at this point in time. She usually is right on the money with Tim. This time doesn't feel like it. Almost as if she’s using Isabel as a scape goat for being scared more so than Tim. Lucy saying she’s fine. Lying liar my love lying liar.

Poor Tim wanting to show he’s not the problem my love. That he's not the only one. There is clearly still a lot to sort through for them. This scene is proof of that. Lucy gets a call from Tim to meet at the station. This has to be the lie detector test. Harper telling her to run I was dying.

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How cute is Tim in his black shirt all wired up for her? I'm dying how precious it was. The way she crosses the room sweet lord. Eyeing her prey. She basically is straddling his thigh. Imma pass out. Getting as close as she can to him. Basically hugging his thigh with hers. I’m getting hot under the collar already. She is so ready to ask him anything but UC questions to start this off. Clearly wanting to ask him specific things on her mind since he's hooked up to the machine.

The bug question LMAO. The most Tim and Lucy thing ever. Of course that man doesn't release the bugs haha. Very her to ask him to do it though. God this was so cute I cannot. Small little insight to their relationship we don't usually get to see.

Then she went right after it with asking if he loves her? A question I think has been weighing on her mind for awhile. Knowing she can immediately see if he's lying. Gah look at him light up. The way he leans into her. Reminding of his posture in 5x09 when he asked her out again. Just as serious now as he was then. Saying he loves her ugh my heart. Our big softie in action in this moment.

Lucy couldn’t be happier with this answer. Same look she got whenever he complimented her in the past. They be beaming everyone. Then he get’s a big fact lie with the UC question crap. Now I feel this isn't fair. Because the man LIVES to support her but he is a struggle bus about this path. To me that 'lie' wasn't because he doesn't support her. To me just those damn demons that won't rest for him.

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Tim looking fine af. Looking for his girl of courses sigh. Cool cool cool fun angsty glances. Damn you gif library was primo angsty looks. Even though they’re sitting next to each other it’s the most physical distance seen between them really in ever. Yeah their arms are touching but not much else. More angsty looks between them at the reception. Gah they’re intense as hell.

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Tim coming to find her my heart. Being the one to break the distance. Asking her to dance and confronting this issue. So proud of him and what he tells her. What a man. He's owning the trauma he still carries. Which is HUGE for him. Lucy thanking him and saying they'll make it through. I love this. Always love us touching back on. 'Unless it is.' moment. Because yeah this is hard but they're worth it and they continually see that and show it.

Now do I love it squarely being just on Tim this UC Fight? No I don't. I do think she is still having doubts but love him laying it out there. I think the issue's Lucy is having just haven't been confronted yet. Their fight from 6x01 was about Tim's issues for most part. Her's were for sure in there just not as prominently. I'm hopeful we touch on her's later this season.

This still feel unresolved to me and imbalanced. Especially now that Tim has admitted some fault to their problems as of late. I feel like I have a really good grasp on these characters. To me my gut is telling me Lucy is scared, having doubts, worried about a long term assignment. What it'll mean for them. Her side of it still needs to be delved into. 5x20-5x21 shook her more than she is letting on. Truly think this just hasn't been explored yet. Because they both have things to resolve with this career choice.

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Also wanna note in this lovely scene. Lucy has her hands all over her him and I’m about it my god. The intimate swaying and leaning into each other. That magnetic force of their's bringing them back together. Their bodies relaxing for the first time in this entire episode. Just happy to be near one another. They're glowing when they come back together in this moment.

Gah their chemistry is out of this world. Her hand on the back his head too phew lord and we get a return ILY. *heart clutch* Lucy's eyes searching his face hoping her saying as such soothes his wounds a little. The cute lie detector line I cannot. It’s was so precious. Their smiles have me on cloud 9. Couldn't be more in love if these two tried. *happy sigh*

Lucy and Tim leading the charge hot damn they pretty. Tim in formal wear and his badge? Lord help me. Phew this was a HEFTY one. So many things to sort through. Like I said in my OG post these are first thoughts. Should be interesting to see how they change come summer and we're in the hiatus.

Thank you to everyone who liked the premiere post. These are a different gear for me glad they're liked ha Imposter Syndrome is real ya'll lol Feel free to comment your thoughts I love chatting about them and this season best part of going through it together for first time. See you all next week!

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Side notes-non Chenford

Lmao the cold open. Daddy cop was always a fav one of mine.

Hey Henry is back sorta. ha

Love Luna checking in on Aaron. Then having a little ptsd poor love.

Oscar is back too LOL

‘Miss Cleo' nickname LMAO

Poor Aaron having a rough time of it. I was worried he was leaning on Celina too much tbh. Also that kiss yikes my man yikes...

[august-anon]

We Can Try

Oh look it's my favorite trope again lol. So, this takes place when Aizawa and Mic are like, early 20s, so it's technically pre-canon to BNHA but I guess not pre-canon to the Vigilantes stuff? But I haven't read that yet so who knows if it lines up lol. Also, this has been done since like February, but I haven't posted it yet because there's supposed to be a sequel and I still haven't even started it after all these months lol. We'll see how soon it gets done

---

Fandom: BNHA

Ship(s): EraserMic

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Mic/Ler!Aizawa (brief Ler!Mic/Lee!Aizawa)

Word Count: 4345 words

Summary: Hizashi comes clean about something he's been craving for a long time, and Shouta is more than happy to assist. There’s just one problem... Hizashi’s convinced it won’t work.

[ao3 link]

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It didn’t take long after their confessions for Hizashi and Shouta to find themselves tangled together on the couch, lip-locked. Hizashi had honestly thought it would take far longer, considering Shouta’s preference to take things slow, but Hizashi certainly wasn’t complaining as Shouta’s kisses got more and more heated. Maybe being best friends for seven years before finally admitting to their pining removed a few steps from the equation.

Not that Hizashi wanted to go any further than making out that day. And luckily, it seemed as though Shouta was on the same page, so Hizashi didn’t feel any pressure as he slowly pushed Shouta onto his back and straddled his hips, changing the angle of the kiss. 

Shouta let out a tiny, pleased hum and Hizashi couldn’t suppress the bubble of joy in his chest, his smile almost breaking their kiss. Shouta reached up and gripped his hips, and it was Hizashi’s turn to gasp into Shouta’s mouth, trying to push himself even closer. Shouta’s hand slid under his shirt and up his bare back and Hizashi shivered, Shouta surging forward to swallow another little gasp escaping from his lips.

Damn, Hizashi thought. Where the hell did he learn to kiss like that?

Finally feeling a bit more stable in their new position, Hizashi moved his hands from where he’d been holding himself up on either side of Shouta’s head. He dragged them down Shouta’s chest and slipped them beneath the hem of his shirt, gently dragging his blunt nails up Shouta’s sides.

And then Shouta flinched and pulled away and the only thought running through Hizashi’s head was oh no, I fucked up.

But then Shouta’s quiet laugh filled Hizashi’s ears and his heart was thrumming for a reason entirely separate from fear. Though Hizashi was hesitant to think it so early on (although, was it really that early on when Hizashi had been falling for him for the better part of a decade?), a certain L-word came to mind at the gentle sound.

Hizashi was forced out of his reverie as Shouta’s squirming under him got more and more pronounced and his hands finally stopped squeezing his hips so that they could try and remove Hizashi’s hands from his sides.

“No tickling allowed!” He stuttered out through his giggles.

Hizashi grinned, trying to ignore the swooping in his stomach and the butterflies in his heart. He especially tried to ignore the mischievous, playfully predatory thoughts that were beginning to fill his head. While he didn’t remove his hands from Shouta’s sides, he did press them flat against the skin in an effort to stop the accidental tickling.

“Sorry,” Hizashi said, knowing he didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “I honestly forgot you were ticklish, was it always that bad?” 

Shouta scowled and crossed his arms as best he could with Hizashi sitting on top of him with his hands buried under his shirt.

Hizashi bit his lip on his grin as the thought, I know how to make that smile come back, came to his mind entirely unprompted. He carefully kept his hands still and flat against Shouta’s skin.

“No,” Shouta bit out after a moment. “It was never that bad when the others got me.”

Hizashi couldn’t help how his grin widened. “Aw, babe! Are you saying I’m special?”

A light flush came to Shouta’s cheeks that was entirely unrelated to their previous activities and Hizashi let out a fond little coo on the tail end of a laugh. Shouta apparently decided that that was the last straw, and started trying again to push Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt.

“No, I’m saying you’re a nuisance.”

Hizashi bit his lip again. He could still see the traces of a smile in Shouta’s face. Though his mouth was stern and his jaw was set, his eyebrows weren’t all bunched up and the skin around his eyes was still crinkled as if he was smiling. That, plus the fact that he really wasn’t putting that much effort into shoving Hizashi away (seriously, the man could have Hizashi pinned to the ground in seconds, and yet was having trouble getting Hizashi’s hands out of his shirt? Hizashi called bullshit), assured him that Shouta was far from angry at the situation. In fact, it seemed like they were both still having fun.

So Hizashi made a calculated risk, hoping Shouta wouldn’t kill him for it later.

He let out a fake gasp and made the most overly dramatic affronted expression he could. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend, Sho?”

Shouta’s eyes widened and he froze. “Wait, ‘Zashi--”

Hizashi did not, in fact, wait.

His hands immediately morphed back into claws, only this time the tickling was a lot more purposeful than before and Shouta was laughing a lot harder. His hands scrabbled weakly at Hizashi’s through the fabric of his shirt, but the effort was quickly abandoned as Shouta slammed his arms to his sides to prevent Hizashi from crawling any higher up his ribcage.

Hizashi could listen to Shouta’s laugh all day, if he could. It was a quiet sound, always making Hizashi go silent when he heard it so he could absorb it all. No matter how hard he laughed, it never got any louder, just more intense, and Hizashi almost thought it was funny how well Shouta’s laugh suited him.

Not to mention the smiles it drew out of him. Shouta rarely smiled for real, making good use of that feral smile full of shark teeth, a look he’d perfected in high school to scare off his bullies. Or, if he did smile for real, he would duck his head down and bury it in the capture weapon that was a near-permanent fixture around his neck.

But right now, that smile had nowhere to hide, and Hizashi was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Deciding trying to get into Shouta’s underarms was a futile effort, Hizashi instead began moving his hands down. Shouta’s eyes widened again and Hizashi knew he was on the right track. He couldn’t help but let out an evil little chuckle, though he quickly fell silent again afterwards to continue relishing in Shouta’s laughter.

And then Shouta snorted when Hizashi reached his hips, bucking hard and squeezing his eyes shut. Hizashi dug in, sure he had found the jackpot and began to crow in delight, when suddenly he found himself as the one with his back to the cushions, Shouta crawling on top of him with a playfully threatening expression.

“You’re so dead, Mic,” he growled, though it wasn’t nearly as frightening as Shouta was probably going for, thanks to all his panting.

Hizashi gulped, feeling that swoop in his stomach once more, but it was quickly overpowered by his premature feelings of disappointment. He tried to mask it as Shouta leaned over him, keeping his smug grin firmly in place, but judging by the way Shouta narrowed his eyes, he could tell something was up.

Shouta hummed, leaning in closer. “Where are you ticklish then, ‘Zashi?” Shouta’s hands came to rest on his sides, fingers curled so the points pressed into his flesh. “If you tell me now, I might go easy on you.”

Hizashi flashed back to all the times Nemuri tried to tase his sides or ribs and failed, only serving to spook him and not make him laugh. To all the times Tensei grabbed at his knees, whether in revenge or to shut him up, and Hizashi didn’t even so much as twitch or crack a smile (well, at least not one related to the attempted tickling). To all the times the two (and even Shouta, on occasion) had dogpiled on top of him and dug tickling fingers into his flesh to try and win a tickle fight only to garner no reaction.

“I don’t know,” Hizashi said honestly, fighting to keep his face playful. “I don’t think I am, really.”

Shouta narrowed his eyes. “You may have been good at hiding it when we were younger,” he said, fingers twitching, “but there’s no damn way you aren’t ticklish.” 

And then Shouta punctuated the end of his sentence with a squeeze. It was probably timed to try and catch Hizashi off guard so he would laugh, but nothing happened. Hizashi felt his unbothered facade slipping.

“Told you, babe. I guess I’ll just be winning all the tickle fights in this relationship. Good thing you have the best laugh ever! I could listen to i--”

“Why do you sound disappointed?” Shouta said, blunt as ever.

Hizashi scrambled for a moment. He could lie. He could say Shouta read him wrong (like that would ever happen), or that he felt put-out for losing and getting pinned so easily. Or he could distract Shouta, get them to start making out again so the interaction would slip his mind. He could come up with some lie--

But could he?

This was Shouta he was talking about. Shouta, who had never judged Hizashi once in their lives. Shouta, who filled the spot of best friend before Hizashi could even blink. Shouta, who he’d been pining for since they were fifteen. Shouta, who was now his boyfriend.

And best friends turned boyfriends deserved the truth.

Hizashi stuttered for a moment, trying to get his voice to work the way he wanted it to, before he managed to force out, “Can I-- Could we have this conversation… without you on top of me?”

The words had barely finished leaving his mouth before Shouta was off of him. Hizashi quickly sat up, leaving the rest of the couch now free from his long legs. He winced when Shouta sat all the way at the other end.

“I didn’t mean that far,” he mumbled, staring down at his hands.

After a moment, the couch cushion dipped next to Hizashi and Shouta’s thigh came into his field of vision. Then, so did two hands that reached out to grab his own, stopping him from picking his cuticles raw and bloody.

“Hizashi,” Shouta said, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay?”

Hizashi plastered on another one of his grins. “I’m fine! It’s just…” His grin faltered. “It’s not something I’ve ever really talked about before?”

“Well, I’m a good listener.”

This time, Hizashi’s grin was far more true. “And don’t I know it,” he replied, leaning over to peck Shouta on the cheek.

Shouta leaned in before Hizashi had fully pulled away and nuzzled his nose into Hizashi’s cheek. “Take your time.”

Hizashi took a few moments to breathe as he thought of where to start. Shouta, true to his word, sat quietly and ready to listen. Every few seconds, he would run his thumbs over Hizashi’s knuckles or squeeze his hands, like he was trying to let Hizashi know that he was still there.

“I have this thing,” Hizashi said, and then immediately winced at the terrible wording.

“A thing?” Shouta prompted when he didn’t start up again.

“I--It’s just--I like--” Hizashi cut himself off with a frustrated huff. “It’s so embarrassing to talk about.”

Shouta nuzzled his cheek again.

“I was disappointed because… I like it.” Hizashi spat out the words like they were acid, but once they were out, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “I like tickling. It’s just, it seems fun. It’s fun to do with friends, to do to them at least. I just… I want to be tickled, it looks like it’s so much fun, but it never works, it’s never worked. And and every time someone tries, I know it’s not gonna work, but it still upset me every time, and it’s so dumb--”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Shouta said, voice firm, and Hizashi’s heart stopped dead. “It’s not dumb.”

Hizashi looked up. Shouta placed a hand on his cheek and gave him one of those rare small smiles.

“It’s not, ‘Zashi. It’s perfectly reasonable to be disappointed about something like that. Anyway, I don’t think you have to be embarrassed about liking tickling, I don’t think it’s weird.”

“You don’t?”

Shouta grinned at him, moving his hand back down to squeeze Hizashi’s fingers again. “It’s pretty cute, ‘Zashi. I mean, tickling? That’s adorable.”

Hizashi couldn’t stop the embarrassed grin that spread across his face even as he felt his cheeks start to burn. He tried to tug his hands back to hide his face but Shouta wouldn’t let go, so instead he brought their joined hands up to attempt to hide his face.

Shouta hummed. “I know I said you didn’t need to be embarrassed, but really, I think you’re pretty damn adorable like this.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, ‘Zashi?” Shouta asked, but this time he put a teasing little lilt in his voice that made Hizashi’s stomach do somersaults. 

Hizashi didn’t bother replying, simply burying his face deeper into their joined hands.

He heard Shouta chuckle fondly, but soon after, Shouta leaned in closer and spoke in a much more serious tone, “Hey. I know you don’t think it would work, but we could try?”

Hizashi peeked his eyes out from behind their hands. “Try?”

Shouta shrugged. “I was more ticklish with you than I am with Tensei or Nemuri. Maybe the same is true for you?”

Hizashi hated the traitorous hope that built up in his heart. “Really?”

“Let’s move somewhere with a bit more room, yeah?”

Shouta stood and pulled Hizashi up with him, carefully leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He kept a careful eye on Hizashi the whole way, and Hizashi knew Shouta was trying to read his microexpressions, making sure he was on board with what was happening. And it just so happened that Hizashi was more than on board with the current line of events.

“We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to,” Shouta said as he opened the bedroom door. “We can do it later, or never.”

“Nope,” Hizashi said, with far more confidence and conviction than he was feeling. “You got my hopes up, you’re going through with it.”

Shouta gave him another small smile before a devious look entered his eyes. Hizashi didn’t even have time to react before Shouta had swept him off his feet, making Hizashi squeal, and tossed him onto the bed. Hizashi couldn’t help but laugh as he bounced on the mattress, Shouta climbing up after him. Shouta’s playful side was something heavily guarded, and to this day, Hizashi still felt giddy every time he got to experience it.

“So,” Shouta said, settling over his hips again. “What should I do to you?”

Hizashi hummed happily, a giddy bubble settling into his chest even as the words sent another round of swooping butterflies through his stomach. He reached out and slid his hands up under Shouta’s shirt to grip his waist, needing to be close to him. Of course, he couldn’t help but teasingly brush his thumbs at the edges of Shouta’s stomach just to watch him jolt.

This time, Shouta reacted much faster. Before Hizashi could blink, his wrists were nabbed and pinned above his head by one of Shouta’s hands. Hizashi gasped and squirmed, trying to escape, but Shouta had always been much stronger than him, relying far more on hand-to-hand combat than Hizashi did with his own quirk.

“Are you trying to make this worse for yourself?” Shouta growled.

“Maybe,” Hizashi muttered, looking away.

Shouta let out a low chuckle that sent shivers down Hizashi’s spine for multiple reasons. Against his better judgement, Hizashi met Shouta’s eyes.

“It’s so cute to watch you squirm.”

The current turn of events was entirely unfair, in Hizashi’s humble opinion, especially with how much more he started to squirm with Shouta’s statement alone. He hadn’t teased Shouta earlier, when he’d been drawing the laughter out of him. How did Shouta even know how to tease like this?

And despite logically knowing he wouldn’t feel a ticklish thing, Hizashi still gasped when Shouta slid a hand under his shirt to grip his side, much like Hizashi had just done to him. He, too, rubbed his thumb against Hizashi’s skin teasingly, though the touch was firm enough that even the most ticklish of people wouldn’t have twitched.

“I might just keep you like this for a while,” Shouta hummed, eyes scanning down his torso. “Face all red, looking so nervous. If you keep biting your lip like that, you’re going to split it.”

Hizashi grumbled wordlessly, trying to bend his elbows in to cover his face, which, true to Shouta’s word, was steadily growing redder. Shouta caught him and eliminated the possibility immediately, tugging his arms up even higher so he had no slack to shield himself with.

“You don’t get to hide. It’s not often I get to see the great Present Mic so flustered.”

“Shut up!” Hizashi whined.

If he had been wanting to be tickled before, he was craving it now. While Hizashi had explored plenty online and certainly knew that teasing words would affect him, he had no clue that it could be so unbearable when implemented in real life. The nervous, anticipatory, fluttery feeling that started in his stomach had begun moving up into his chest now, as well. He felt like a big ball of nerves. He was torn between hating it and loving it.

Shouta hummed. “You were clearly enjoying yourself when tickling me,” he said, leaning in to purr directly into Hizashi’s ear. “I think it’s only fair that I have a little fun of my own.”

“Sho!”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

“Just-- Will you just test it already?”

The thumb rubbing against his side halted and Shouta raised an eyebrow. “Test what?”

Hizashi threw his head back (as much as he could while he was laying down with it on a pillow, at least) and groaned. “Please don’t make me say it again!”

Shouta buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, and Hizashi could feel the grin against his skin. “No, I think I will. Ask nicely, then we’ll try.”

“Please?” Hizashi tried, despite knowing Shouta wouldn’t let him get away with just that.

“I know you can do better than that, Hizashi,” Shouta said. “Come on, full sentences. You’re a radio host, aren’t you? Talking is your job, surely you’re better at it than that.”

Hizashi groaned again and then tilted his head so he could bury his face in Shouta’s mane of hair.

“Will you please try tickling me?” He mumbled.

“Good enough for me,” Shouta said against his neck, then immediately began pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the skin.

Hizashi hummed and let his eyes slide shut, tipping his head back to give Shouta more access, despite not understanding his motivations since Hizashi was supposed to be getting tickled right about now. Shouta made an approving noise, bringing his teeth into the mix and sucking at the skin before quickly soothing the spot with more kisses. At least Hizashi’s directional speaker hid his neck, he didn’t want to try explaining that one away to the press.

One hand still kept Hizashi’s wrists securely pinned above his head, and Hizashi found that entirely unfair. Shouta knew he liked to use his hands a lot when kissing or making out, and he couldn’t help but try to wiggle them free to at least run them through Shouta’s hair. Shouta gave his wrists a warning squeeze and Hizashi took the hint, stopping his struggles.

Shouta eventually made his way up to Hizashi’s ear, a spot that never failed to make Hizashi melt. Shouta had figured that one out quickly, much to his chagrin. Hizashi still hadn’t found any similar spots on Shouta, yet.

Hizashi melted into the mattress with a sigh as Shouta lavished affection around his ear, just the way he liked. Then, Shouta did something he’d never done before, that none of Hizashi’s lovers had ever done before. He drew Hizashi’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it ever-so-slightly.

Hizashi’s eyes flew open as he choked on a gasp, his body attempting to jolt away from Shouta. An involuntary smile fought onto his face and Hizashi couldn’t help but bite his lip to try and diminish it. Was this…

Shouta dropped Hizashi’s earlobe to murmur into his ear, “Oh? What was that? I thought you weren’t ticklish, Sunshine.”

Hizashi oddly felt like he couldn’t catch his breath, but in a good way. His stomach was doing somersaults, and it felt like there were butterflies floating underneath his ribs. He sucked in a breath as Shouta pressed a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear before pulling back, releasing his hands as well.

“Well,” Hizashi said, his voice far softer than intended. “That’s one spot.”

Shouta smiled, slowly pushing Hizashi’s shirt up. “It is. Shirt on or off?”

Hizashi’s blush flared up again and he bit his lip. “Um. On?”

Shouta nodded, leaving his shirt bunched up just above the base of his ribcage, leaving his sides and stomach exposed.

“Okay?” He asked.

Hizashi nodded and relaxed a little. He relaxed even more when Shouta reached up to brush his thumb against Hizashi’s cheekbone.

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” Hizashi grumbled.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Shouta said. Then he smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t let up until you’re nice and relaxed.”

Hizashi let out an embarrassed smile and covered his face with his newly-freed hands. Shouta laughed and leaned over him to kiss the backs of his palms.

“Keep hiding like that and I’ll have to tie you up,” Shouta said, clearly teasing.

And yet, despite Shouta likely not meaning it, Hizashi’s breath left him. Shouta froze.

“Do-- You would want that?”

Hizashi made an embarrassed noise. “I mean, not now, but… maybe? Another time?”

Hizashi peeked through his fingers to see Shouta biting his lip.

“We… can talk about that later.”

Hizashi nodded, and Shouta rolled his eyes. He pulled Hizashi’s hands away from his face, gently pushing them away from his torso.

“I want to see you.”

Hizashi pouted. “Now that’s not fair.”

Shouta grinned. “It’s perfectly fair.”

Hizashi resisted the urge to cross his arms or cover his face, instead fisting his hands in the bed sheets several centimeters away from his torso. Leaving plenty of room for Shouta’s hands on his skin.

“Tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” Shouta asked, laying his palm flat on Hizashi’s stomach.

Hizashi took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Out of nowhere, Shouta’s other hand pinched Hizashi’s side. It startled him, making him jump, but it didn’t tickle. While he was distracted by that, before Hizashi’s disappointment could set in, all five fingers of the hand on Hizashi’s stomach started scratching away at his abdomen. Hizashi gasped and his hands instantly flew up to his mouth.

“Don’t hide your smile, ‘Zashi,” Shouta murmured. “It’s so beautiful.”

“You can’t just say things like that!”

Hizashi twitched as the scratching fingers started searching out sensitive spots, Shouta’s other hand coming back into the mix and wiggling ever-so-lightly at the side of Hizashi’s hip, where his sweatpants had ridden down. Hizashi bit his lip on his smile under his hands, feeling giggles build up in his chest as he held his breath.

And this was it, Hizashi realized. This was what he’d been missing all this time. This maddening sensation that made him want to move closer and squirm away all at once, this was what he’d been missing out on for all those years. And it was working. This was the third best day of Hizashi’s life, only behind the day he met Shouta and the day he and Shouta confessed.

Shouta grinned down at him. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“Shut up!” Hizashi said, cursing when a giggle slipped out in the retort. “Oh god!”

“So, what do I get for winning?”

Hizashi squealed as Shouta’s fingers started rapidly crawling up his sides and ribs. His hands shot down to grip Shouta’s arms, trying his best to not to push him away.

“Whatever you want!” Hizashi cried out through his growing laughter.

“Whatever I want?”

Hizashi nodded, his eyes squeezing shut as he laughed. He felt Shouta lean in and put his lips right next to Hizashi’s ear.

“Well, it’s a good thing I want to hear you laugh.”

Hizashi let out a full shriek when Shouta’s hands shot up into his armpits under his shirt, scratching away at the shockingly sensitive skin. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he started nibbling on Hizashi’s ear again, making his laughter go all high-pitched and squealing. Even Shouta’s soft exhales started to tickle.

And that was definitely something Hizashi was noticing. Now that he was laughing and giggling and squealing away, he even felt more ticklish. He wondered if even a squeeze to his sides or hips or knees would actually be effective, now, when they had never been before. Even the air in the room, brushing across his bare sides and stomach, made him feel all tingly.

And then it all stopped.

Shouta pulled back, suddenly and without a word. Cool air swept in onto Hizashi where their bodies had been pressed together, and he couldn’t help but shiver. Hizashi furrowed his brows and dropped his hands from where they covered his mouth, panting for air. Did he do something wrong?

“Why’d we stop?”

Shouta cocked his head to one side, tugging his hair up and out of his face and tying it up. “I’m going to give you a challenge.”

“... A challenge?”

Shouta gave him that shark-like grin. “I’m going to try and find all your tickle spots. And you, Hizashi. You cannot try to stop me or cover your face. If you do, I stop until you get back into position.”

Hizashi felt his face heating up, and Shouta’s smile got a more predatory edge to it. His breath caught in his throat as Shouta leaned in to talk directly into his ear again, leaving Hizashi shivering for a completely different reason.

“Well?” He breathed against the shell of Hizashi’s ear.

“Challenge accepted,” Hizashi whispered.

[shinygoku]

very intrigued to see what you think of Henry!!! ^v^ (character ask!)

Another day, another Big Green! (The others are Piccolo and Thunderbird 2 lmao)

First impression

"Green ver of that one big creepy dude" (Look, when I was Babby I saw a Gordon picture somewhere that minorly spooked me lmao)

Impression now

Ahh, Henry! In some ways, very much like Duck! Green, long nose, popular with the fans and I'm here like Yeah he's a good fixture of the series lol

Ok well, maybe I should disclaim that he's not one of my favourites, which is partly as I guess it's a bit hard to nail down his personality.

His, for lack of a better term, Illness Arc is fascinating and oddly Real for a series about machinery. Something's genuinely amiss with him, but the lack of a clear cause (at least, to the other engines, who presumably don't know he was built from stolen, incomplete plans and the logical issues that would arise from that) and his frequent complaints turn the other characters off wanting to hear about it, thinking he's exaggerating. Then the Welsh Coal stopgap is found! Then the very next story he has a horrible crash but it was a blessing in disguise because then he's rebuilt as a Black 5 and his health issues are gone forever! (ain't we envious of machines now?) Until Lazy Writer Disease sets in Meta-wise, but more on that later.

I think it's safe to say that it's Entry Level RWS Knowledge to know Awdry's frustrations with the character, and it is kind of hilarious how much he tried to write him out, and iirc Henry wound up with the most appearances and 'his' book has 5 stories instead of the uniform 4 for some reason. But it seems it takes further Lazy Corporate Mandates to actually write him out in BwBa which really sucks and is doing such an iconic lad horribly dirty.

Pictured: Henry as seen by Awdry/Mattel, who are about to just shove him out of the story with varying degrees of success.

Well yeah, for me I can't really settle on an opinion because he never seems to have anything solid after the Rebuild. He's kind of the nicer one out of the Terrible Trio, but sometimes he's as bitchy and obnoxious as Gordon without prompting. He seems to be pretty unlucky and sometimes his misfortunes are self inflicted, but they don't commit to this bit. He gets his (in)famous forest, much to Awdry's chagrin, but it does offer a nice gentler side to him. He also seems to be the main Fast Freight engine, particularly more Fish shipments, but this doesn't really inform his character. He all too often feels like a Spare, Green Gordon who's less full of himself (but still gets boughts of Envy and inflated self importance, like Tenders for Henry), and that's a shame because this nebulous lack of anything concrete seems to be why Bad TatMR Writing diagnosed him with Need Welsh Coal again for quite a long time (dunno if that only changed when Mattel/Brenner came in or not). But then the US dub makes him sound like w--dy all-n and that's the worst treatment of all! I kind of understand the temptation to make him the resident worrier but HUUURGHGHH NOT LIKE THAT

So yeah, the better characterization of him needs to strike a good balance of him being ...I guess a Gentle Giant, who enjoys nature and maybe is a smidge prone to bouts of feeling jealous. Maybe catches the engine version of colds more than the others because the early morning runs in the freezing air? I dunno, I'm trying to combine several traits that have been in Henry but never seemed to stick. But done properly, I could really get behind a nice, faceted character like that~

Favourite moment

It feels a bit mean to say, but it's due to the strength of the episode itself with the fantastic visuals, godly music and shocking drama (with a nice bonus of Correct Head Codes!) that put Flying Kipper at the top of this list!

Another part of this ep, is the beginning where the Driver is saying "Don't tell Gordon, but if you pull this nicely, the Fat Controller may let you pull the Express!". Like, that really squeezes my heart, because his driver is rooting for him, the prospect of a better regarded job is floating there, and knowing what eventually happens, it's like... oof! But in a good way.

...Also I think that must have been something Awdry added after deciding not to kill him off because having that bit and for it to all go up in flames would have made children and me extremely upset and he would have been buried under letters of complaint from angry mothers of the time.

Idea for a story

Other than the overly simple and grimdark "he was in fact killed that day" type coma inducers, I suppose the Two Henries theory being explored could offer some interesting interactions.

Like, what if the Henry who rolls back into The Big Station is instantly accepted and in fact, liked more than og Henry? What if the other engines instead couldn't fully relax around him? Were his memories perfect? Too Perfect?

And what would happen if OG Henry were later discovered... (and in what condition?) Dun Dun Dun dododo Dun!

The thing is, it is hard to really explore this because it's innately such a dark, heavy concept. I don't enjoy the 'Authoritarian Hellscape" lameass interpretation by normies. I like my silly workcom on the rails with warm fuzzies and funny antics, thank you very much!

Unpopular opinion

Some of his faces (even before the worsening first inflicted by Magic Railroad) are pretty weird looking! Maybe cause his forehead is so huge and smooth, but maybe just the odd mouth shapes. I like the variety, but they aren’t what I’d call cute... I find myself thinking ‘Moon Face’ looking at him [even with the lack of craters lmao] and oops I think I missed the weirdest grin of all, but here’s a small sample anyway

Favourite relationship

Not a favourite, per say, but some of the more friction-ish interactions he has with Thomas or Percy are pretty funny. With Thomas’ immortal flippant disregard to viaduct safety, Percy retorting that engines with Proper Funnels do, in fact, need scarves, something Henry wouldn’t know about, and that Henry somehow manages to dismiss Bill and Ben, a feat Gordon needs to take notes from. Even the Something in the Air exchange with Thomas, which isn’t really stellar writing just has a funny lame argument vibe.

For some nice Wholesome interaction, Bear is hands down the winner! Easy pick maybe, and it makes me wonder if Bear’s complete absence in the TVS is part of the downward spiral because he’d offer a lot more Plotlines.... hmmm...!

Favourite headcanon

Other than the universal fandom acceptance that He Digs Nature, Baby is the notion I’ve seen a few times that his “fear” of the rain, or what it would do to his paint, isn’t actually why he stopped in the tunnel, and it had more to do with his mechanical failure and/or him having something of a nervous breakdown. He does come across as something of an ass if you take the episode at face value, but there having a secret deeper meaning is way more interesting 👀

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 6

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: future Kaz/female!Reader

Summary: with the carriage crashed they must continue on horseback

Note: this one is shorter, I wanted to have some nice bonding with Jesper done before we got back to the regularly scheduled story

Taglist: @mcntsee​

              Kaz had felt the weight of the carriage change a moment before they went into the ditch.  It gave him time to get ready so that when they fell, he was able to land on his side instead of his head.  His hip throbbed but he was able to stand quickly and noticed that Y/N hadn’t been so lucky.  Curse his stupid mouth for saying something hurtful to her before this.  He knew brushing off her confessions was callous, but he had been annoyed with her for pulling her legs away from him.  He knew he was petty but that was a new low and now he would have to win back her affection.  Why did he want her affection anyway? O right because his heart was working for once.  Damn.

              He stumbled over to where she lay unconscious and looked around the carriage, finding a way out in the floor.  Must have been a carriage for smuggling, complete with emergency exit if you were caught, smart.  He kicked open the trapdoor and then looked back at Y/N.  He knew Jesper would come in and get her but Kaz wanted to be the one who got her.  He tossed his cane out the door and took a deep breath, focusing on getting Y/N to safety, and picked her up into his arms.  He carried her outside, laying her down in the grass nearby.  Once she was safe the thoughts of dead bodies and Jordie’s face roared into his mind and walked to the edge of the woods and vomited, holding himself against a tree.  When he was finished he turned back to see that Jesper was checking on her, his arm bleeding.

              “Are you hurt?” Kaz asked, walking back over to them. Jesper shrugged before standing next to him.

              “I’m fine, just a cut” he responded, tearing off his shirt sleeve and wrapping it around the cut, tying it with difficulty. “Can’t offer a hand?” he said to Kaz, smirking.  Kaz glared. “You saved her, carried her out here, you like her, you big softie.”  The look Kaz sent him wiped the smile off his face.  It was a long time before Jesper mustered the courage to speak again.  “Its alright you know, to have feelings about someone, you can still rip out hearts and then go home to someone.”

              “That’s enough Jesper, I don’t need a lecture from you about my feelings,” he snarled, hearing Y/N start to stir.  She blinked open her eyes and sat up quick, gripping her head. She looked around, then at the two men in front of her.

              “How did I get out of the carriage?” she asked. Before Kaz could stop him Jesper spoke.

              “Kaz carried you out,” he said, smiling big. Kaz’s blood was boiling at the betrayal. Y/N looked at Kaz silently.        

              “Thank you Kaz,” she said softly, standing with Jesper’s help.  Kaz nodded quietly, looking away.  He was going to have to admit sooner or later that Jesper was right, he did have feelings for her, but he would admit that later.  He still didn’t know what he could do in a relationship with someone anyway, who would want a broken bastard?  

              By this time Jesper had brought the horses over and even had found a spare saddle in the carriage storage bin.   Y/N dressed the horse, getting on ready to ride.  

              “Kaz take this one, I’ll ride with Jesper on the other,” she said, holding the reins.  Kaz wanted to argue but knew he couldn’t possibly ride a horse with someone else, not even Y/N, for the amount of time they needed.  The Permafrost was still over 2 days away, he would never survive. He climbed on the horse with difficulty, ignoring the help the others offered.  Once astride he slid his cane into his belt and heard a giggle.  He narrowed his eyes at Y/N and once again found that she wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.  He both admired and hated that about her.

              “You look like a general in those old school books, saber at the ready,” she said.  Kaz rolled his eyes and looked away before anyone could see the red that flared on his cheeks.  “But you’re much better looking than those guys.”  Kaz had expected a compliment, she seemed to like teasing him and then stroking his ego to win back his favor.  He hated that it worked.  He watched, a little annoyed, when she joined Jesper on the horse and they started riding north again.  

                Y/N could see that Kaz was struggling, not with his horse, but his emotions.  She had to admit, his feelings were probably harder to tame than a wild horse and she still didn’t know if it was worth it.  She realized that his jab about her secrets the night before had been out of anger. She wasn’t sure what he was angry about, but him carrying her out of the carriage proved that he cared about her in some way.  She would take that and work with it.  

              “You like him don’t you?” Jesper asked, him also noticing how Kaz couldn’t look at them for more than a moment before he looked away again, the jealousy clear on his face.  

              “Yes, I more than like him,” she answered. Jesper was easy to talk to, Kaz should send him out to gain secrets, with his laid back attitude and fun demeanor anyone would get loose lips with him.  He nodded and looked ahead again but she noticed the frown on his face.  “What has you upset?”

              “I…I miss Wylan,” he said softly.  It was almost like he was just admitting it to himself and she felt her heart break a little at the sad look on his face.  “Stupid merchling wormed his way into my heart and won’t let go.”  

              “I guess we both have men who are unreachable at the moment.  I’m sure we will find Wylan at the resistance camp, if he had the strength to deal with both you and Kaz I can only imagine how strong his will is.  I’m still debating on shooting you both,” she teased. Jesper let out a chuckle.

              “If you find you want to shoot Brekker you can use my guns,” he answered making her laugh this time.  

              “You two seem chummy,” Kaz called, riding to walk his horse closer to them.  He looked so put out by their interactions that Y/N almost laughed at him.

              “Don’t worry Kaz, I’m not trying to steal your new girl,” Jesper shot back.  If looks could rip someone apart the look Kaz gave him would have done that and more.  “You see Kaz here almost ended up with Inej…” A loud crack rang out and Jesper let out a strangle cry of pain.  Kaz had snapped his cane out, smacking it hard against Jesper’s knee.  

              “Don’t start talking like you know anything Jesper,” Kaz said, voice menacing.   Y/N looked at him.  This must be Dirtyhands, the supposed bad guy buried in Kaz, the one who liked to rip out eyes and maim men for saying the wrong thing.  She was impressed by his vicisousness but she didn’t want this aspect of Kaz to be out and about right now.

              “Kaz calm down, this is all in good fun,” she said. “I know you don’t know how to really have fun but I promise this conversation will never be shared with anyone, right Jesper?”

              “Right,” Jesper wheezed out, still trying to move his leg.  “Did you break my kneecap?”

              “Just disabled your lower leg for a minute, you’ll be fine.  God knows I don’t want to carry you if you break your leg,” Kaz responded.  He looked at Y/N and she smiled at him, wanting him to calm down.  She saw him take a deep breath and relax some.

              “So are you going to tell me about Inej?  I have heard the stories about her leading the refugees north, she sounds amazing,” Y/N said.  And she sounds infinitely better than me for Kaz she thought to herself.  Inej was supposed to be strong, a leader, someone that could gain secrets by knife or by charm, and apparently Kaz had once wanted her.   Y/N didn’t often let insecurity eat at her, she was Grisha who could do anything, why should she think less of herself?  But the idea that Kaz would desire her over Inef Ghafa seemed laughable.  

              “No one is going to talk about Inej anymore. What I felt for her wasn’t real,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes.  This whole conversation was making him squirm it seemed, too much talk of feelings and emotions that he didn’t want to visit.   Y/N nodded, feeling a little better that he seemed to be telling the truth.  Inej was a friend, a second in command, but it appeared that she was just that and nothing more.  Then again, Y/N was just a Grisha, someone to get them back to their crew and nothing more. Suddenly she didn’t feel any better.

              They rode on for another hour, the sun getting hot above them as they passed midday in silence.   Y/N was hoping they would get at least halfway to the Permafrost today but she felt her heart stop and her blood go cold as a voice called from behind them.

              “Little puppy, seems you found some new friends,” the Darkling said.  Jesper whipped the horse around and all three stared as the man approached alone, looking ready to kill.

[dreamsatdusk]

Analysis:  Baghra and the Apparat

I received an Anon ask a while back and accidentally published it before it was done a while back.  Privated the post but decided to have the final product as a new post just in case; I don’t want it buried in tags from way back.

The Ask:

Hello! Can you do a breakdown on Baghra's character and the Apparat's? I'm interested in reading your thoughts about them

Thank you for the ask!  And apologies for the delay in response.

Baghra

One of the first Grisha meta posts I wrote years ago was about how the way Baghra and her hut are portrayed evoke the impression of Baba Yaga.  Her appearance, hut in the woods (likely amidst birch trees), and something of her attitude all lend themselves to it.  Since then, I’ve also come to think there might be a bit of tie in to the tale of Vasilisa the Beautiful, who was forced to go and bargain with Baba Yaga for a light against the darkness.  

Looking past that surface, in the trilogy we are presented with Baghra as a figure both ascetic and penitential, as well as bitter and unkind.  The latter traits are well explained by what we learn of her history:  she has had a long life filled with a great deal of loss, with countless threats to Grisha and particularly to she and her son, different as they are even from other Grisha.  Her childhood was a sad one brimming with trauma and what she recalls of her parents to Alina causes me to think that she did not feel truly loved by either one of them.  I think their treatment of her and behavior toward each other shaped her perspective on life in profound ways, ones she never got past.

But the former traits don’t have so obvious a cause on page if you look more deeply.  Her lifestyle is very austere despite the fact there is no need for it - she is not on the run and in hiding any longer as she was in the Darkling’s youth.  Her conversations with Alina in regards to her son are couched in religious terms:  she is worried about his being beyond redemption, she speaks of merzost as abomination, and so forth. In R&R, she has Misha read religious parables to her to pass the time.

This clashes with what we know of contemporary Grisha.  It is said at one point in S&B that Grisha don’t put much stock in religion and we see the Darkling does not seem to either.  Not to mention the fact that he and his mother knew at least several Grisha who later became considered saints.  I find it likely they suspected other saints could also have been Grisha - Grisha and martyred for it, their true identities obscured so later people could pray to them and not have to consider the ‘unnatural’ people they were.  It makes a lot of sense that neither Baghra nor the Darkling would invest much consideration in Ravkan religion as it is presented on page.  In fact, it seems like they’d find it more infuriating than anything.  And yet.

The Second Army has no need to lead lives of deprivation.  Yes, they eat ‘peasant-style breakfast’ and such, but their rooms are gorgeous, they have beautiful clothing, sugar for their tea and so forth.  Baghra surely wouldn’t be living in a tiny dark hut in the trees unless that is what she wanted.

There’s also the fact that she shows signs of not using her summoning powers.   Even before S&S, she’s apparently quite chilly a lot.  It makes sense she wouldn’t show she could summon shadows where other Grisha could see.  But the indication is she isn’t using her powers at all.   That is another way she seems to have chosen to deprive herself, to the point of impacting her health.  Perhaps she even hoped that it would lead to her death, but apparently it has not been enough to override the impact of her amplification talent.

Looking back at the woman seen in Demon in the Wood and was glimpsed in the tale she tells Alina of her past, it very much seems to be something happened to turn who Baghra was into who we see in the trilogy.  

I suspect much of the true reason is that she is pretty much a plot device in the story.  She needs to spook and horrify Alina into running.  Her talk of ‘redemption’ and ‘abomination’ are peculiar in terms of many other elements we see in the books.  I’m writing a meta on the amplifiers and merzost and such that goes into this further, but I’ve also written some in the past about how there’s no real reason to believe merzost is inherently bad. Baghra has clearly decided it is though and speaks of it and her son’s actions in absolutist terms.  Because she needs to in order to have the narrative run how it does, more than once.

And again, what reason would this character really have to put so much faith in Ravkan religion?  

What’s a possible in-universe explanation for this?  I think the creation of the Shadow Fold works well for that.  We find out that what the Black Heretic was actually trying to do was recreate Morozova’s amplifier experiments and something went wrong.  (This is the focus of the upcoming meta I mentioned above.). The Fold happened and all of the people within its bounds were transformed into volcra. All in all, a horrific situation, however much an accident.  This could have functioned as such a systemic shock to Baghra’s worldview that she sought solace and perhaps forgiveness in religion.  I suspect she felt guilt, which is pointed to in things she says in the trilogy.  Also, she’s the reason the Darkling even had Morozova’s journals - she went back to the village she was born in and found them, per R&R.

I still think her being invested in the Ravkan religion itself is a weak point, but could be generously explained by just how traumatized she was by the Shadow Fold situation.  She may have desperately wanted something to believe in.  That said, the lack of any sign in the books of what more lies behind Ravkan religion than Saints and the fact that Baghra knows that at least several of those Saints were actually Grisha, doesn’t make this the strongest argument to me.

I also wrote some weeks back on how Baghra was portrayed as emotionally and physically abusive to Alina and according to their own accountings in R&R, other Grisha as well.  In the early days of the fandom, I never really saw that acknowledged, though it has gotten far more recognition this year with new people reading the books since the release of the tv show.

Overall, she is a very bitter person and I think a lot of what we see of her is driven OOC by her being largely a plot device and IC by guilt.  She feels guilty about the Fold’s creation and so forth and lashes out at others in misdirected anger.

I think this also relates somewhat to her treatment of Alina in S&S and R&R.  She blames Alina for not ‘adequately’ running away (went after the stag instead), blames her for the Darkling putting himself beyond redemption (in Baghra’s mind - like too many people IRL, she seems to not understand what redemption actually is), blames her for the sea whip, for wanting to find the third amplifier.  She blames Alina for these things, but it is likely a mask for further personal guilt. Of all people, Baghra is likely the one who would have been most successful in stopping the Darkling before things took the path they did.  He trusted her.

But her nasty treatment of others obscures that Baghra is largely a passive character in the trilogy. Whether out of love or some variety of religious concern, she doesn’t try to kill her son.  She doesn’t remove Alina from the situation in a more final way, only tells her to run.  And in the end, she commits suicide rather than more directly confront the Darkling.

The Apparat

Okay, after all that, I don’t have near as much about the Apparat. *L*

If Baghra’s surface details are meant to evoke Baba Yaga, then I think the Apparat’s point to Rasputin.  His physical description was practically a caricature (if you’ve only seen the show, he looked far less revolting in that than he was described in the books) and he starts out as a trusted advisor to the Ravkan royal family.

One of the big questions about the Apparat is about what he truly believes.  He was in cahoots with the Darkling around the coup against the Lantsov dynasty in S&B, but he later swung his support behind the Sun Summoner.  I think it would be a believable reading of the text to suspect he may have planned to do so since learning of Alina’s existence.  There’s no real reason to think he truly supported the Darkling’s cause or cared much for Grisha themselves; on the latter point, I think the greater support is for the idea that he does not care about the Grisha and just used them to get what he wanted.  

His presentation is a mix of True Believer and power-seeker and a great deal of the questions around him relate to where one thinks he falls most strongly on that spectrum.  Alina’s interactions with him in S&B have the hallmarks of a fanatic, but then, these signs are also seen through Alina’s eyes and you have to consider whether she is seeing reality or a careful act.  I think the case could be made for either.   But either way, I also think he wanted power.  I suppose you could argue he wanted power on behalf of Sankta Alina, but I think his actions in R&R show that an Alina who wasn’t going to comply with his wishes was deemed more trouble than she was worth. If she had died, I don’t think he fundamentally would have cared.  She had established enough of a reputation, was known to enough people, that he could have exploited her as a martyr without having to deal with the reality.

The Apparat was the sort of character I tend to really dislike (religious manipulation, etc.).  Something that struck me in all the books is how more than one character was strangely...tolerant of him. He backstabbed people more than once and yet nothing was every truly done about it.

[foxjevilwild]

Thought on the game some more and I'm building a bit of a theory:

-Kris, when they rip their SOUL out, is not being controlled by anyone else. That's Kris, the actual character, taking those actions and creating the DARK fountains.

-They're trying to find a way to remove the SOUL, and free themself from our control.

-They freak out when Spamton[Neo] dies on Pacifist, because they realize that beings in this world die when their STRINGS are cut and they're trying to do the same to the SOUL that's controlling them. Kris wants to be free of it, but if they completely untether - they'll end up a dead husk like Spamton. (this is one of the few times their emotion is expressed and we get no choice over their reaction, this is real Kris screaming out)

-This world has crashed and looped multiple times because of what is interfering in it so Kris is unafraid of the Roaring, and prepared for the SOUL (the cage is already there in chapter 1)

-The same being responsible for the DARK is responsible for implanting the Player SOUL in Kris, and has turned Kris's world into a sort of beacon to draw in SOULs (This is probably Gaster)

-I think everything in the game is some form of acronym - DARK is probably something like "Data-Array Restructuring Kernel" and SOUL is something like "System Operator Unicode Language"

I think the world of Deltarune (and Undertale, really) is a world that knows it is a Game, that it exists as Code in some form, and that it is a constructed reality. I think Gaster (and their followers) are able to see behind the curtain and make this realization, and Gaster has dedicated his existence into first escaping his own STRINGS or script, hiding in the unused files, and then in recoding the world into the image he wants.

I think when Players arrive and start making choices in the original program, it disrupts the process he is using, and so he has created the world of Deltarune by rearranging Undertale and creating a sort of 'trap' for us, the Player, by rigging the SOUL's intended vessel.

I think the Vessel we created in Survey_Program was the original game's 'main character' for the player to control, and Gaster hijacked the process to force the SOUL into Kris.

I think it's called Survey_Program because Gaster was surveying for a suitable Player again, someone to enter their world of code and power the engine he's building there. If the player is too aware, the program crashes - because they are unsuitable for the purpose. If we're able to look too deep into the code, or know who Gaster is - it's dangerous for him and his continued existence. He doesn't care if you name it after Sans or another character (it's amusing to him) - but if you name it after him...he panics and aborts.

Basically I think Real Kris is *also* throwing a wrench in the plans of the unseen villain - they're trying to break free of this forced control and go back to a normal life. To some extent Gaster has anticipated this (he picked Kris for a reason, shaped them in the bunker) - but I think depending on the Player it can go one of a few ways:

1) Our choices align with the best interests of Real Kris, and there is formed a bond between the SOUL and Kris that allows the world to resolve in a healing way, possibly even letting go of our control over them (Similar to the True Pacifist Ending in UT)

2) The neutral ending - where we stop the Roaring but Real Kris steps in to make it happen by ripping their own SOUL out and cutting the strings ( They choose Death or Reset instead of slavery), because we are still controlling them (the neutral ending)

3) The Proceeding, where we force Kris over and over to do what we want them to do. Where we use our knowledge of the game, of the code, to break them and everyone around them to have our fun. Where our voice as the 'Player' gets to take dominance over what the game is supposed to be. (This will be like the Genocide Run)

Toby is making a commentary with each of these choices - mainly about what we expect of a sequel, how we as a fandom can both adore and reinterpret characters, and about the limitations of a sequel as opposed to an original work.

The world is a meta-text on Storytelling *and* Game Creation - it is a story told through a Game because it can only be told through a game - or it wouldn't have any of the thematic punch that it does.

The Dark is reinterpretation, rearrangement - pieces taken from their original setting and reshaped or re-contextualized into something new - still recognizable, but new. This is how a sequel is created, but it's also how we as Players interacted with the original creation. (How many Undertale AU's are there again? Hundreds?)

Anagrams are a major theme - everything in this world is a mish-mash of constituent parts. Two things combined into a new thing. Everything is repurposed and reshaped from an Original. Gaster can manipulate the code, but he can't actually write an original world...not yet. He has to work with the parts that exist. -- The same is true when creating a sequel, or continuing a story. This is both textual, and meta-textual on Toby's part. The literal act of creating a sequel to Undertale, and the game's metaphorical 'Undertale 2' rearrangement, are this amazing little interplay going on between the Audience and Author and Creation.

Our SOUL or our control over the world is how we interact with that creation - there is a sort of undercurrent of power-struggle. The artist wants to tell a story, the characters want to be true to themselves and who they are, the world wants to resolve in a natural way - but in order for us to have choices, the world has to adapt to us, change according to our whims as players of the game.

Sometimes what we want aligns with what the characters want - sometimes what we want is better for them than what they'd choose for themselves - but ultimately we are tyrannical. These little monsters are trapped in a looping prison, chained to our whims by lines of Code they can't see - living in loops bound to our Determination and our absolute mastery over them.

We get to play the game when we want, we get to choose what they do, who they love --- we get to choose how they die. We get to choose if they kill... and we get to do it again and again, changing the outcomes as we please. For Fun.

This process has been hijacked, and our usual choices that would have been coded in are ineffectual. Our 'choices' don't matter, but we still force them on the game. Some characters can ignore us, others don't or can't - sometimes we choose what the character was going to do anyway. Someone cut the string, and we have no control here...

But there are other ways...other routes...to bring our voice back into power over the game. Ways we can break the script, the same as the one who rearranged it.

I think the narrative within Deltarune is that someone is fighting back against us, against that Player and against that control. That someone is Real Kris.

Gaster created the engine beneath the world, the DARK that allows it to rearrange - and the world has been looping through, the Door-Portals into the DARK created and recreated and Player after Player has passed through with Roaring after Roaring fueling the engine he's buried somewhere beneath, hidden in the code.

Most of the denizens aware of this truth go mad, or Gaster uses them and they go mad, or they follow him in a cult like state. Gaster is the only hope for their freedom - the only one able to manipulate the CODE besides the player. Gaster is ultimately selfish, trying to break himself free of the Code - but to these beings he is the only chance at any sort of self-Determination.

Kris is intended to be a puppet, just like Spamton, just like Jevil was going to be (and failed, quarantined). Kris is the end result of Gaster's research - a false vessel for the SOUL that can be scripted along the world's pathing, a character with a pre-existing story to keep the SOUL trapped within a specified loop.

Gaster wants the Roaring, wants the world to loop. Wants us to play the game he's re-scripted for us to power whatever he's using to break things and escape his 'prison of universes' within the Games' code.

We'll have our fun, find our ending - and maybe even get the happy one. Ultimately though, we're not the only ones playing this game...we're not the only Player. Someone will come along again, or we'll reopen the save...and we feed into the engine beneath. The heart of Darkness...

Will it be enough to give them a happy save file? Or are we going to have to force the program into a total crash, expose the being manipulating the strings... will we have to create terrible circumstances for these creatures in order to free them of Gaster? Are we any better, stepping in and shaping their lives? Are they truly free to Hope...to Dream?

Kris is trying to be free of both of us. Kris is trying to save their mom and their friends. I think Kris is the true hero.

We, the player, are just another antagonist.

[jesus-otaku]

Title: Peculiar Familiarity (part 6)

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Marichat

Word count: 2241

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

A long-overdue update for a giveaway prize for @kwiibi-blog​. I feel so bad about this just sitting in my folder for so long. (I typed this part up like 2 years ago during the time I was away from Tumblr and completely neglected to post it.) I really hope the long wait has been worth it.

I mentioned this when updating the fic on AO3 so I’ll mention it here as well: I am no longer nearly as active in the ML fandom as I used to be. There is so much fandom salt and drama that it has been hard to find the same initial joy I had for creating ML content. Most of my writing lately has been for original projects rather than fanfic. But because I hate leaving things incomplete, and I think everyone reading my fics deserves to get the endings they’ve waited for, I am trying very hard to regain my lost motivation. My goal is to at least wrap up the multi-part fics I started, even if I don’t necessarily write the other fics I originally had planned. Any questions about this can be directed to my ask box!

“Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss.”

________________________

“You've been keeping secrets from me, Princess,” Chat Noir sang as he dropped through the trapdoor into Marinette's room.

She whirled away from her desk to look up at him, and her face was white as a sheet. “S-secrets? What secrets?” Her lips were twitching up in an attempt at a smile, but it was very obviously fake. “I—I'm not keeping any secrets, don't be silly! I mean, why would I not have told you that I was—I mean—that is, if I was—I mean—nope, no secrets here!” She broke into nervous laughter. “None whatsoever.” Then, hesitantly, she asked, “Why do you say that?”

Chat was a little taken aback. That was a much more…intense reaction than he had been expecting. He climbed down the loft ladder to join her at her desk. Leaning on the desk with one hand, he replied, “You never told me you and Ladybug were in touch with each other.”

Marinette gaped at him. It must not have been what she had thought he was going to say, because some of the color slowly started to return to her face. “That's—I—you never asked.”

“No,” he agreed, “but when you said I should talk to Ladybug about the whole hand-kissing thing, that—you could have just told her yourself.” It would have spared him a lot of embarrassment, that was for sure.

She fidgeted uncomfortably. “I think it was better that she heard it from you,” she replied. “Otherwise it might have made it seem like you were avoiding her.”

He hesitated. She did have a point there. And embarrassment or not, his conversation with Ladybug had cleared up a miscommunication he hadn't even realized they'd been having. “Still,” he said, “you could have at least said something.”

“You never asked,” Marinette countered. She leaned forward, propping her hands on her knees. “So, um, what did I—I mean, Ladybug say? About the hand-kissing thing, that is?”

Chat gave her a thumbs up with a smile. “She gave it the all-clear. Hand kisses are now exclusively yours, Princess.”

She grinned back at him. “Lucky me. But that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I never said you had to ask her permission,” she pointed out. She folded her hands in her lap. “I just said you needed to tell her you were going to stop kissing her hand. Did she say anything about you stopping?”

Great. Not only was Ladybug going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Marinette, now Marinette was going to kill him by asking about his relationship with Ladybug. He was so, so doomed. “She said I didn't have to,” he answered slowly, watching her to see her reaction. “She would have been okay with me kissing both your hand and hers. But I didn't want to do that to you after saying I would make it a you-and-me thing only.”

All of the color had returned to Marinette's face now, and if it hadn't been for the fact she had been so white just a minute ago, he would have thought he saw a dusting of pink on her cheeks. He quashed it instead as the act of an overactive, hopeful imagination. She'd been so pale that the natural flush of her face probably just looked overly pinkish by comparison. “Thank you,” she mumbled. A little clearer, she added, “It means a lot, you know. That you would change your dynamic with Ladybug just for me.”

Feeling suddenly very embarrassed, Chat looked around the room at just about everything except for Marinette. His eyes locked with the little black stuffed cat that perched on the shelf above her desk. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don't have to thank me for anything. It's not like things are going to change between me and Ladybug, not really.” But then he remembered that odd look of resignation that had been in Ladybug's eyes last night, and he had to wonder if things wouldn't change even the tiniest bit. She'd almost seemed upset.

As if she could read his mind, Marinette asked, “Are you sure about that? We—You two seem pretty close.”

“We're still going to be friends,” he replied, hating that word—friends—just a little less than he would have expected to. His friendship with his lady had always come first, no matter how badly he wanted to be something more. That priority had somehow become clearer the more time he had spent with Marinette. He waved a hand dismissively, as if her concern were a minor one. “A little thing like kissing your hand won't change that.” Oh, but that look in Ladybug's eyes last night…

A tiny smile made its way onto her face. “Ladybug is really lucky to have a friend like you. I would've been a lot more worried about things changing than you are.”

He braced his baton against the floor and leaned forward on it. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me, then, Princess. Since you're friends with her, too.” God, what was coming out of his mouth? He was going to be the end of himself, pursuing a conversation like this. But still, he couldn't stop himself from continuing. “I'm sure if you sing my praises, she'll reconsider my romantic advances.”

The statement startled a laugh out of her. “Okay, I take it back,” she giggled. “She's lucky, but she's not that lucky.”

Well, ouch.

Even though he knew Marinette meant it only in good fun, and that she would never intentionally say something to hurt someone else—out of all the people he'd met, she was one of the most well-attuned to preventing akuma attacks—her reply stung. So much so that his heart may as well have physically ached. The amusement he'd allowed to creep onto his face was gone in an instant. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Her expression dropped into horror. Had she not realized what she was saying? “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like that—I was just—you're great, but—um, you and Ladybug are—we're—I mean—ugh, I don't know what I mean anymore.” She buried her face in her hands, and there was a definite pink tinge to her cheeks now beneath her fingers.

Something about Marinette was off tonight. Something beyond the mess of deciding whose hand he was going to kiss. He was stunned it had taken him this long to realize it. Chat Noir tucked away his baton and went to kneel in front of her chair.

“Hey, Princess,” he coaxed softly. She peeked out at him from between her fingers. That much, at least, was encouraging. “What's wrong? Forget about me and Ladybug for a second. Did something happen?”

Her eyes scanned his; for what, he wasn't sure. Slowly, her hands slipped away from her face, and she set them back in her lap. She sighed as if resigning herself to something. Her gaze dropped to the floor between the two of them. “It's just—well, I have this…friend. And he's a great friend, don't get me wrong,” she added hastily, before he could have even thought to comment. “I'd trust him with anything, no matter what.”

“But…?” he prompted. There was obviously a “but” coming.

She gave a halfhearted sort of shrug. “I don't know. It just feels like things are���weird between us right now.” Her eyes were still glued on the floor as she began twisting her fingers around each other in her lap. “Like he's…I don't know, distant?”

He hoped she wasn't talking about him as Adrien. He'd done his damnedest to get closer to her, to make her feel more comfortable around him, to see at least some inkling of the way she acted around Chat in her interactions with Adrien. Those attempts had so far only ended in more pronounced stammering and occasional awkward laughter. It wouldn't have entirely surprised him if she was referring to him as Adrien.

He just really, really didn't want to be the one she was referring to.

Marinette seemed to take his pensive, anxious silence as a sign to continue, because she kept talking. Almost like she couldn't stop herself. “And I guess I just can't help wondering if maybe there's something that I did, or if there's something else going on in his life that I don't know about, or if he's just sick of hanging out with me.”

Chat took one of her hands in his before she could wring her fingers white. Her eyes finally snapped up to meet his again. “If he's sick of hanging out with you, then he's an idiot,” he said, with far more feeling than he had originally intended to put into his sentence. “You're amazing, Marinette. Anyone would be lucky to call you their friend.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I know I am.”

That tiny little smile made its way back onto her face, just enough to lift the corners of her lips out of miserable worry. So gently that he almost thought he imagined it, she squeezed his hand back. “Thanks, Chat Noir.”

Kneeling there with her hand in his, he almost kissed her hand before coming to his senses and shooting her a wink instead. Even with both her and Ladybug's permission, he couldn't just go around kissing her hand willy-nilly. “Anytime. It's a knight's sworn duty to protect his princess, even from her own self-doubt.” The comment made her smile spread wider, and the weight of worry lifted from his chest.

And it was strange, how much this reminded him of another time, with another girl, begging her to believe in him and in herself when she hadn't thought she could be enough.

Then Marinette was getting to her feet, her hand was sliding away from his, and the moment of familiarity was gone. “So,” she said, “are you up for being walloped at Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tonight?”

He wanted to say yes so very badly. Wanted to prove that he'd meant what he'd said, that anyone who didn't want to hang out with her was an idiot. But curse it all, he had a photo shoot tomorrow morning at eight and he would never hear the end of it from his father if he showed up at his photo shoot with anything less than a full night's rest.

“I wish I could stay,” he said, trying to infuse as much regret into the words as possible. Her smile still dropped. He cursed the name of photo shoots everywhere in his head. “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement with my bed. I've got someplace I have to be early tomorrow, and I need my cat nap or I'll never make it through the day.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the prospect of getting up early during a weekend. “On a Saturday?” she asked incredulously. “That just sounds like some form of torture.”

Chat grinned. At least they were of the same mind on that point. “It probably will be, but a commitment is a commitment. I'm a cat of my word.” He stood and began to back his way towards the ladder to the trapdoor. “I can come back tomorrow night,” he added hopefully. He didn't usually visit two nights in a row, but since this visit was so short, maybe… “And you could wallop me then.”

“Bring plenty of fighting spirit, because I've been practicing,” she replied, smiling once again. He was struck for the hundredth time by how very familiar the teasing tone of her voice was, and not because he had heard it from her so often now as Chat. When he took another step back towards the ladder, she asked, “Aren't you forgetting something, Chat Noir?” Her smile had turned impish.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment of staring to realize what she was referring to. By the time he had put two and two together, she had already stepped closer to him and offered her hand. “Oh. Right. How foolish of me.” He took her hand in his and couldn't help marveling at how well their hands fit together. Almost exactly like his and Ladybug's did.

But Marinette wouldn't push him away from the gesture, not tonight and not in the future. That wasn't who the two of them were together. Marinette wasn't Ladybug, and he was a little bit of a different Chat Noir when he was with her. Not as flirty, not as hopeful, not as self-aggrandizing.

If he thought about it, maybe he as Chat Noir acted the way he wished he as Adrien could act with Marinette.

Minus the hand-kissing, of course.

He pressed his lips to her hand, lingering just a moment longer than was really necessary. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and there was the faintest scent of the bakery clinging to her. It almost made him not want to pull away.

He did still have to get up early in the morning, though, so he forced himself to straighten and release her hand. She had already agreed that he could come back tomorrow. This was only goodbye for a day. He'd survived longer than that without her before. Chat swept her a bow. “Until tomorrow, Princess.”

Her smile spread into that glimmer of sunlight that had nearly made his heart stop last time. It almost made his heart stop again now. “Until tomorrow, Chat Noir. And thank you.”

[goodbyekillingharmony]

My own interpretation of Qrow's character in V8

also, before we get really into this, of course, there will be spoilers. don’t say i didn’t warn you. also, probably don’t take this too seriously? i wrote this at like 3 in the morning last night and wanted to rework it into something more proper. i tried to make it flow more properly and fuck this may not even make any sense, so bare with me. this is mostly a headcanon i have to get myself through the travesty that is volume 8 and it did make it more enjoyable for me, so i guess that is a plus.

alright, i think i have bored you enough with the unnecessary parts, here we go boys. also, one final thing, this isn’t supposed to undermine shit like part 8 or f//r g//me, or anything of the sort, this was just made as a fun little headcanon that got serious real quick. okay, actually starting now.

I think most RWBY fans have noticed a sudden shift in behavior in Qrow. I don’t really know what the consensus is for this since I hardly, if ever, interact with this fandom, however, for me, until yesterday, it had bothered me heavily. I am a fairly harsh critic when it comes to the writing on the show, purely due to the fact I want to become a writer myself, so I tend to be overly analytical, which can lead to me finding flaws more easily. Nevertheless, even with my mostly neutral feelings regarding Volume 8 right now for various reasons, I persisted. It wasn’t until last night when I really started thinking about this, putting my more critical self aside, and started to look at the bigger picture. Then, an idea had popped into my mind.

Based on someone who has severe trust issues and immense paranoia, I had finally understood, well, at least, theoretically. What if the reason that Qrow is so hostile and, honestly, unreasonable this volume is because he suspected something like this. He suspected Ironwood to do something akin to this. Obviously, not to this severe of a degree, but he felt that like, sooner or later, that this would happen.

What do I mean by this? Well, me and a good friend of mine (@graegrape hi) had gone traversing the RWBY Wikia and found something that honestly kick started the entire thing. 

“ General Ironwood shows concern over Qrow's warning in his conversation with Ozpin in "Welcome to Beacon", which prompted him to bring his fleet to Vale in hopes of preventing conflict in the Vytal Festival. However, this action only served to infuriate Qrow. ’’

Naturally, this had caught my eye. So, we went digging for some screencaps.

When Qrow informed Ironwood and Co. about finding some of Salem's forces, Ironwood had deployed, essentially, his entire fleet, and Qrow was absolutely angered by this; how the hell could he have messed it up so badly?

-

However, at least in this point in time during Volume 3, Qrow doesn’t completely distrust Ironwood.

“ Qrow has commented that he wonders if Ironwood has a heart. Nonetheless, Qrow saves Ironwood from a Griffon in "Heroes and Monsters", knowing the general is innocent of the carnage caused by his automated forces. He shows his respect and loyalty by asking Ironwood for suggestions regarding their plan of action to deal with the invading Grimm, showing that while he may not respect his methods, Qrow does not completely hate him or view him as a threat. ‘’

What was the point of this part of the post, OP? Well, I am happy you asked. I wanted to show just exactly what their dynamic was back in those volumes, almost as a refresher. There is some amount of trust and respect, and there is some amount of comradery there, however, something underlying is starting to brew, specifically Qrow’s reaction to Ironwood’s course of action. My own interpretation of this part? This gave Qrow a proper look at how extreme Ironwood could get, letting it settle in his own mind for a while, making the seed of doubt of Ironwood’s self-destructive behavior plant itself.

══════════════════

The next part of this post will be way more hypothetical. While I will try to provide evidence, this is creeping into more headcanon-ish territory. You have been warned lol.

Well, that’s all of the Volume 2 - 3 stuff out of the way, time to move onto the elephant in the room. Alright, so Volume 7, a favorite for many and I am no exception.

However, even when I have rewatched the Volume at least 3 times at this point, there was a certain scene that had always stuck out to me, and that is relevant to the post at hand, so might as well get it out of the way. I’m sure we all know what I’m talking about here.

The hug.

So, when the hug happened, for Qrow, at least in my own interpretation, it felt like his entire world got shattered.

Ironwood had actually missed him; actually taking the time to tell him that he cared. You could see Qrow wasn’t as tense anymore, actually letting his guard down in front of someone that wasn’t his family. In my opinion, specifally with this frame,

Qrow had started to reflect. To reflect on not only their own relationship, but on himself as well. He, possibly, had his own seed of doubt regarding Ironwood slowly starting to disappear. Something akin to, “Maybe he does have a heart.” or whatever. 

And then, Ironwood, of all people, had betrayed him. It had happened again.

══════════════════

Suddenly, he was given a reason, at least in his mind, to justify his distrust of others, but of Ironwood especially. He was right in his mind. “Sooner or later, someone close to me would do this. And to imagine it being to such a severe situation too. He did it again.” Qrow was probably devastated. I’m not denying that he wasn’t sad about Clover, he clearly was and I am not going to deny that fact. However, that being his only reason does not sit well with me. His colleague, one of the remaining people in Ozpin’s group, had done this, after he had promised to ensure his safety, planting a false hope within him. Now, he was thrown away like a rag by one of the only remaining members of Ozpin's circle he could get into proper contact with.

Qrow’s sadness turning into anger is literally perfectly in character to him, so it would make complete sense, trying to deflect everything, because he, himself, wants to be right in his own mind; it was a long time coming, it only happened now.

He’s deflecting a lot of the things, pushing it in the back of his mind. He's scared. He has to be alone again. Just when he thought he was finally safe to trust people again, to seek comfort in someone like Clover, the first person he was willing to spill his heart out to, as well; he lost him. So, he uses everything he can to stop his mind from thinking about it. Anger, sadness, blissful ignorance; whatever he can do to ignore it, because he gave up drinking, so he can't use that for coping anymore.

The reason why he’s reacting so extremely is, in my opinion,is not just due to “Oh, well, I saw this coming.”, but also that he is going through withdrawl. He has to do cope using other methods, since he can’t use his former one anymore. He has to feel the full brunt of his own emotions, he can’t numb them down anymore, and to himself, he can’t justify his own feelings. In his mind, the best course of action is to redirect those extremes onto someone else.

It is quite possibly that Qrow had noticed Ironwood’s sudden shift in behavior, making him reflect on himself, too. He sees that Ironwood is walking down the same path that he himself was going down many years ago, but he can’t do anything. He thinks that Ironwood wouldn’t listen to him, considering what happened back in the Vytal festival. Ironwood did not back down in the slightest back then, so why would he now? That type of mentality. He doesn’t bother with it.

(This next part was written by my good friend and honestly? Great food for thought.) 

Qrow’s former emotions mirror those of Ironwood’s current ones. Qrow, back in the earlier volumes, had used alcohol to help ease his mind and block out things he didn’t want to think about. And now, current Ironwood, is only focusing on what’s directly in front of him and blocking out the entirety of Mantle.

In essense, Ironwood had become exactly what he hated about Qrow.

(I rewrote it a bit, but the main idea was all them. Thank you so much for this.)

He is deliberately using everything he can to not think about Ironwood, due to the fact that he can easily become irrational when he does, and he does need Robyn as an ally, so he buries it all down, possibly being self-aware about his own behavoir, but not know how to deal with it.

══════════════════

Well, that sure was long. There could be things I forgot to mention, and I’m not even sure if this is well structured or not, since I’m not used to writing essays, at least, not to this caliber, but I hoped it, at least, made you possibly think about Qrow in a more intiment sense. Qrow’s and Ironwood’s relationship had always been the most facsinating one in the entire show, so seeing it being thrown to the side did sting a bit. But, I hope that there was a good reason for it. I am still looking forward to what V8 has in store, especially with the heavily implied fight, I just hope it’s something more than just Qrow getting revenge for Clover. C’mon, CRWBY! I know you can do better.

If you made it this far, thank you. And please understand I made this out of pure love for the show. I have been a fan for a while now and I only want what’s best for the show. I promise this isn’t just me being a salty Ironqrow shipper lmao Anyway, let’s hope this volume turns out great.

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt8

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous   Next

Marinette was seated cross legged on the bed with the Peafowl Miraculous in front of her. Her hands were turned up on her knees and Plagg and Tikki sat in either palm. Everything was still a bit too vague for her piece of mind but given their interactions she didn’t think the Kwami wanted to hurt her. She wasn’t certain they could while she was in possession of their Miraculous. Tikki flew up to address her.

“You’ve meditated before I assume?” Marinette just nodded. “Good. What we need you to do is just close your eyes and breath deeply, being relaxed as possible. You’ll likely feel a pull or tugging sensation and may start feeling drained. It’s perfectly normal but if you start fighting it it will get worse.”

“Should I be visualizing or concentrating on anything specific?” She was used to things being out of her control, Talia and the League had made sure of that, so it shouldn’t be difficult to do as Tikki asked.

“It’s probably best if you focus here.” Tikki flew forward and gently tapped the center of her forehead. “It will help us draw the energy we need though it is not necessary. It may also help ease any discomfort that comes up.” Marinette frowned at the Kwami’s tone.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Tikki shared a look with Plagg and she knew she was right. Plagg let out a huff and joined the other Kwami hovering in front of her.

“It’s not dangerous kit, I promise, but especially given that Duusu is the Kwami of emotion there may be some pushback. Given the little we know of your past it could open old emotional wounds that you would prefer to stay buried.” They both looked genuinely worried. For her part, Marinette just figured she’d survived it once, she could do it again.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” The Kwami shared a look she couldn’t interpret but she just closed her eyes and began to relegate her breathing. Once it was at a proper pace she did as Tikki had asked and concentrated on the spot they had touched. She swore she could still feel it but put it down to her imagination. She felt the Kwami move back to their positions in her hands but she kept focused on that spot and her breathing.

She didn’t notice any changes at first, but soon found herself becoming too warm. She could tell it wasn’t the room but rather heat coming from her own body. It was a mild discomfort though so she pushed it out of her mind and resumed her focus. That’s when she realized she could actually feel the energy being pulled from her, or rather through her. Yes some of her own energy was mixed it but it felt more like she was a funnel and Tikki and Plagg were directing the energy pouring through her. It was strange certainly but not uncomfortable

The longer it lasted, the more aware she became. Instead of just feeling the energy as it rushed through her she could also feel the way Tikki and Plagg were separating it and directing it into the Miraculous on the bed. She also began to see the different threads of energy flowing through her and unconsciously began separating them herself and feeding them to the Kwami. It was actually really soothing, and it seemed to speed up the process. She was so distracted by it she didn’t notice the sudden burst of energy flowing back from the Miraculous until it was too late.

When it hit her she heard herself yelp and her hands flew to her head as images and the emotions that went with them swirled through her mind. There was no pattern to how or when they showed up. One second she felt the agony of Damian’s string snapping, the next was the fear of her younger self as she was being transported away from Paris. So many conflicting thoughts and emotions she couldn’t do anything but whimper as they tore through her. She tried to force them to come one at a time at least, but when she did manage it she wished she hadn’t.

It was the day after they’d returned to the Leagues base. Talia insisted that she spar with Damian with no training to prove her worth. It was like she was actually reliving it. She knew what would happen but had no control over her own body. Damian seemed less than thrilled with the idea but it was obvious he wouldn’t go against his mother. After he threw her to the ground the first time his mother waited for Marinette to get back up before saying ‘Again’. Damian looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t. It went on like that for what felt like hours. Damian would hit or throw her and Talia would say again every time she got back up. Her entire body felt like it was covered in bruises and scrapes. At one point Damian even told her to just stay down, but some part of her knew that wasn’t an option. It only ended when Damian finally knocked her out.

Marinette came back to the present slowly as the pounding in her head began to lessen. Suddenly, Plagg’s warning about the pushback made a lot more sense. She felt drained, like she hadn’t slept in days and her entire body was tense. She slowly forced each of her muscles to relax before trying to open her eyes. When she did she found four anxious Kwami staring at her.

“Tris, are you okay?” Nooroo’s voice was about an octave higher than before so she had a feeling that none of them were expecting the backlash to be this bad.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette tried to focus on the blueish blur in front of her. “I couldn’t stop it, the energy was flowing too fast.” She just nodded. So it had been her fault then. If she hadn’t been feeding it out to the other Kwami the way she did things wouldn't have been so bad.

“My fault. Shouldn’t have helped without asking.” Or knowing what she was even doing. The more she came to her senses the more she felt something different. She could still feel the energy all around them. It was incredibly easy to pick out different strands even though she couldn’t tell what they all were. That was interesting.

“What do you mean helped?” Tikki’s voice was confused more than anything.

“I separated the energy before it got to the two of you.” The Kwami shared a look and she realized they hadn’t noticed.

“I just thought it was easier because we were getting used to it. You could actually feel the different types of energy?” Plagg’s question caused all of them to stare at her. That couldn’t be good.

“I still can. It’s everywhere. Is it supposed to be?” None of them answered and that worried her. These were tiny gods who had been around for millennia and they were looking at her like they’d discovered a new species. Finally Tikki broke out of her stupor.

“Yes, it’s normal for it to be everywhere but we’ve never encountered a human that became aware of it without training, let alone what you’re describing.” Just what she needed, one more thing to make her abnormal.

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[inactiive-shit]

Burning

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Warnings: allusions to rough past

Pairing: platonic dukexiety

Words: 1,988

Summary: Virgil needs a goddamn hug.

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Virgil came from a rough and tumble kind of place. There wasn’t much physical contact with each other and what there was usually wasn’t affectionate. Virgil was used to not being touched or being hurt with almost no in-between. Hugs were rarer than a blue moon and cuddling? It’s safe to say that was an entirely alien concept.

But Virgil’s twenty-six now. He’s had plenty of time to outgrow his aversion to touch, plenty of time to get over it, plenty of time to make friends that wouldn’t punch him before they patted his shoulder. And, well, he had. Sort of.

Enter Patton and Roman, who were soft and kind and the touchiest of touchy-feely people that Virgil had ever met. They were always trying to dispense hugs and pleased smiles and pats and gifts and, if Virgil were being honest, he could not even imagine either of them throwing a punch. Then, enter Logan. He wasn’t the same kind of overbearingly physical person. He rarely initiated hugs, although he equally rarely turned them down when they were offered. He was much more reserved than Virgil’s other friends, much more like Virgil, and Virgil could imagine Logan getting into a scrape or two.

But nobody touched Virgil. That was by Virgil’s own design, had nothing to do with any particular feelings he held about his three friends. Hugs were just...a lot. And especially for someone with as little experience with them as Virgil had. He’d tried to explain it once, tried to put into words the expectations he had whenever someone moved toward him. He tried to make them understand that it wasn’t them, it was just that Virgil was used to a different kind of living where hugs had never been the norm. But Patton had looked ready to cry and Roman was affronted and even Logan, Logan who wanted almost just as much alone time as Virgil, had looked horrified. How was it possible, they wanted to know, that Virgil had gone so long without being treated with care?

He hated to see those looks on the others’ faces, hated a fraction more the looks they sent at him after that were barely to the left of pitying, so he took it back as best he could. It really hadn’t been that bad, don’t worry about it, all the usual phrases and eventually he persuaded them to drop it. So they stopped trying to touch Virgil all that much, and Virgil convinced himself that he wasn’t jealous of the casual affection they threw around like confetti. Virgil did his best to pretend his feigned indifference was real, and that he didn’t want touch just as much as he loathed the thought of it.

And then, one day, he met someone new. This person was a lot like him, rough around the edges like a ripped newspaper, but soft enough that he wouldn’t cut your fingers. He showed affection by punching others’ shoulders or throwing himself full-body on top of them. He wore the most ridiculous outfits that Virgil had ever seen, and he never seemed to care that he was the weirdest person in the room.

His name was Remus. He was Roman’s twin brother, although the similarities between them were almost impossible to find. He had a white streak in his hair that he denied ever putting there himself and, truthfully, nobody had ever seen it happen. He had no qualms about treating Virgil just the same as he treated every other person he came into contact with, and that’s about the time Virgil really started to realize he had a problem.

His skin burned whenever anyone touched it and he could feel an imprint of them on him long after they had left. There was an ache in his chest when he thought about getting a hug and despite having as many good, caring friends as he had now, Virgil felt more lonely than ever.

Remus, despite Roman’s misgivings about his brother, ended becoming an integral part of their group, and he continued to unknowingly supply Virgil with physical contact at their every interaction. It was equally wanted and unwanted, equally loved and hated, and Virgil kept coming back for more. And as much as the ache in Virgil’s chest intensified, as much as the burning on his skin kept him awake at night, Virgil never said a word about it to anyone.

Touch starved. It didn’t sound real, like something that could actually affect people. More than that, though, it was embarrassing. How could he even broach the subject? Hey, guys. So there’s this thing I found out about called touch starvation and it turns out I have it. And I could really use some pats on the back right about now, I swear I’m not making this up for attention. Yeah, that would go over great. Instead, Virgil took whatever he got when he bumped against a stranger on accident and mind his own business.

It was working out for him as well as you’d expect when something he had never planned on happened. He’d been having a panic attack, an occurrence that had been more common than Virgil liked, and he’d been entirely content to suffer through on his own and pretend everything was fine after, but then Remus walked into the room like a wrecking ball, all loud noises and erratic movement, and Virgil flinched. He flinched and tried not to cry because crying was the best way to make someone mad at you and also maybe the best way to expose yourself.

Remus, though? He stopped being loud and bouncing and sat down slowly in front of Virgil. Virgil couldn’t seem him too clearly through the tears in his eyes, but Remus might have been concerned. There was some movement, like he might have been talking, but Virgil could hear the static in his head and nothing else, could hear impending doom and forever alone like a war drum coming at him, could feel the vibrations running through his hands and shaking his very bones.

Suddenly, clear as day, he could hear Remus’s voice like a bell ringing, “Can I hug you?” Virgil gasped and hesitated. A hug? Would a hug just make things worse? It always seemed to but maybe not, can things even get worse from here? He nodded and Remus’s arms wrapped around him and held him so securely it almost felt like there were eight limbs keeping him safe.

The static changed frequency, changed color, changed channels and instead of the cold, impersonal, overwhelming static in his head like before it turned warm and encompassing but not altogether bad. Virgil choked on a sob and buried his face in Remus’s shoulder, shuddering, trying to figure out why he wanted to keep burning like this.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Remus said. “I’ll skin whatever hurt you.” He kept a tight hold on Virgil, kept holding him until he stopped crying and pulled away. Virgil wiped his face off with a sleeve, thoroughly embarrassed. That was unnecessary and stupid and he really should be in better control of himself so that things like that didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Stormcloud. Are you hurt?” Virgil shook his head, unable to force himself to make eye contact with Remus after such an episode. Remus’s hand ghosted over Virgil’s cheek and he flinched away, feeling the streak of a burn where their skin had barely come into contact. Remus withdrew his hand quickly. Virgil was almost sad to see it go.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just have panic attacks sometimes,” Virgil said, and that was true enough. In fact, he couldn’t even remember what the catalyst for this attack had been or if there was something he needed to go do now that he was back to functional. Virgil was totally spent and more than ready for a nap.

“Yikes,” said Remus. There was a few minutes of silence while Virgil swiped the last of the tears from his face and destroyed his eyeliner and steadied his breathing so that he wouldn’t be a total mess when he finally left whatever room his panic had holed him up in. What he wanted to do more than anything right then was gather himself, make his excuses, and go back to his own room where he could hold onto his body pillow and bury himself in enough blankets that it felt like another person was laying on top of him.

“Are you touch starved?” Remus asked, voice sudden and surprising and observational skills much better than Virgil had anticipated they would be. He jolted, glancing quickly to Remus’s face before looking away and fighting the urge to cower behind his hands. “You flinch whenever anybody reaches toward you and I’ve never seen anyone touch you and you’re freezing. Do you need another hug?”

“No,” Virgil said, shrinking away from the prospect. He was still burning like a star ready to implode but more than that no one was supposed to know because it was Virgil’s problem to figure out, Virgil’s issue to work out without having to involve other people like this.

“No to which?” Remus asked, but then he gently laid his hand on the ground between them, palm up, and hummed. “We can just hold hands if you want.” Hesitantly, Virgil reached out and took Remus’s hand. It was rough and warm and alive and human. Virgil felt a shiver run through his body at the contact but he forced himself to keep it. If Remus was offering, if Remus understood the situation, then as awkward as Virgil felt, this was okay. There was nothing wrong with this and Virgil...Virgil really didn’t think Remus was going to hurt him.

“How did you know?” Virgil whispered, voice cracking over the syllables. He might cry again if they weren’t careful.

“Been there, done that,” Remus said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “Everything kinda sucks though, so I made myself start touching other people and then they started touching me back. Not great at it all the time, but,” he shrugged, “I’m not so cold anymore.” Virgil couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face whatever was happening right now, so he sat quietly and did his best to take it in. God knew when the next time he’d get something like this would be.

“If you want,” Remus said slowly, “I could help you. We could hold hands and slowly work up to bigger things like hugs until you’re not so skin-hungry anymore.” Virgil internally winced at the term, but externally he was finally looking at Remus, staring in total shock that he would offer something like that.

“Why?” Virgil blurted, confusion swirling and making him feel almost nauseous.

“Because you’re my friend,” Remus said, and he sounded just as confused as Virgil felt. “And I love you. And I may or may not have developed a squish on you. I want to help because I care.” He smiled slightly, and to Virgil it looked kind of sad but not in a way that made him feel bad.

“I...I…” Virgil didn’t know what to say, how to say yes to what Remus was offering or how to make sense of it all in his head.

“It’s okay,” Remus said, running his thumb over the back of Virgil’s hand and causing an involuntary shiver. “We can talk about it later. For now let’s just hang out. Do you want me to talk?” Virgil nodded, figuring that at least with some kind of non-touch stimulation he might be able to refocus. Remus started talking about something, Virgil couldn’t recall what later, and Virgil realized that maybe tackling this with Remus wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he didn’t have to suffer through on his own like he thought.

Maybe, just maybe, Virgil could finally stop burning.

[unholyplumpprincess]

A Week Makes Me Weak

A commission for @fyeahnix tysm again for letting me write the gals!!!

Summary: In which Anita goes on a Girl’s Trip with Ramya to Gaea for the week, leaving her girlfriend at home who misses her all week. Hours before she’s coming home, Wraith sends scandalous images of herself and Anita can’t help herself. With promises of being tied down and fucked raw, can you really blame Anita for wanting to rush home?

Reblogs > Likes (Reblog if ya hit Like!) Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked. Have your age in your bio.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bangalore/Wraith

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Wraith has a big clit and body mods, Bottom Bangalore rights, hand around throat/mild choking, monster dildo/it’s a dragon strap on!, scent kink bc Wraith is a lil nasty, lots of praise! They’re in love Harold

Words: 5.9k

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A quick ’Girls trip’.

That’s what Anita had said when she explained to Wraith what she had planned for this hiatus. Wraith didn’t mind, of course, Anita had friends and that friend this time just so happened to be Ramya, who had business still in Gaea. Wraith could appreciate that, having unfinished business. That is…if she could even remember what business she might have had in the past. Something always felt unfinished, something amiss, but regardless of that feeling she had told Anita that she hoped it wasn’t anything stressful. That her flight went great and that she’d uh…

She’d miss her.

Wraith had admitted that with a soft embarrassed look in her eyes and Anita’s warm, calloused fingers tucking Wraith’s hair behind her pierced ear fondly. It was no surprise that Anita slept better with Wraith at her side, and that Wraith even got a wink of sleep with Anita tucked against her. It was only a week, Anita promised, just a week to go finish some stuff up and provide Ramya company she deserved and needed. Especially going back to a location that could bring up some not so fond memories.

Wraith couldn’t help but to tease Anita a little. Her arms enveloping her girlfriend and Anita’s chin tucking atop her head. “Who’s going to stop you from rolling off the bed, Sarge?

“I’ll stack up a pillow or two to substitute you- even add an ice pack just to make it authentic, Ghostie.” Anita teases back, pressing her lips to the top of Wraith’s head and letting her arms drape over her, rubbing her back soothingly. A smile forms on her full lips when she feels the soft shakes of Wraith’s laughter, jumping when her cold fingers slide under Anita’s shirt as if to make a point of her cold body. Resulting in a pinch on her ass that makes Wraith jump.

~Rest under the cut~

That had been six days ago. Only six, Wraith kept trying to tell herself, even when by the second day she started to feel a bit lonely. That was ridiculous, she thought. It’s not as if Anita was the only person in her life. But, to be fair, Wraith had only felt the loneliness settle in when she’d climbed into bed that night and rolled over to wrap her arms around Anita and found the empty space. A frown had tugged her lips, wrapping her limbs around a pillow instead and not getting even a moment’s rest that night.

That’s when the nightly calls occurred, just to allow them both that peace of mind.

Gaea was a few hours behind in comparison to where the compound was stationed in Solace, which made nightly calls only a bit difficult when Anita would realize Wraith still sounded wide awake at 3am. When at 10 pm on Anita’s end already had her eyelids heavy and ready for rest. Thankfully talking to her was enough to soothe Wraith and she could only hope that in turn Anita felt the same.

Anita always updated her on what’s happening over there. Ramya’s workshop was no longer up, burnt down completely in the fire, but there had been some scraps able to be recovered in the rubble. Nothing that could be used to pristine perfection for weaponry, according to Ramya, but some scraps to sell were better than having nothing. This whole trip was important for her, and Anita was there for moral support and to plan out for Ramya’s full, permanent stay into the compound. She’d already gotten bits and pieces of her workshop settled down.

Wraith busies herself at home on her own hiatus. Natalie stayed behind most times when it came to breaks between matches, she always said she liked it better in the compound. Wraith finds company with her, tagging along with Natalie when she wanted to go shopping or sit down at a café for a treat. They look like polar opposites next to each other even out and about, Wraith notes. How Natalie wears her sweet dresses and screams pastel energy, whilst Wraith wore darker clothing and leathers.

Anita gets the pleasure of receiving texts from Natalie of images of her girlfriend in candid photos, as well as selfies between the two of them. Normally fit with Natalie beaming and doing a peace sign and Wraith clearly talked into it, her own pierced tongue out and a weak peace sign to show her chipped black nail polish.

That was something Wraith had been certain to make happen. Natalie had been her closest friend since she’d arrived, and she wanted to make sure both her girlfriend and best friend got along. At first, Anita hadn’t been too keen on interacting, antisocial in her own manner, but Natalie’s jokes and openness to discuss boundaries had won her over.

Spending time with her best friend certainly helped Wraith at least get a few winks of rest in. Sometimes her mind got too loud, everything became too much and she felt overloaded. She supposes she was spoiled by Anita, able to bury herself into her chest and have Anita hum or just talk to drown out the sound. Her low voice always made her chest rumble pleasantly against Wraith’s cheek, the loud frantic questions and various lives quieting down when she could focus on the story Anita had to tell. Normally of her family, of old family gatherings or grand pranks she’d pull with her brothers.  

Or promises of how one day, Anita would take her home and she’d be given a proper Williams welcome. She always told Wraith her mama would love her, something about that always made Wraith feel at ease, despite her quiet worry of how she could come off. Didn’t help with what certain others would call her. Wraith just had to remind herself she wasn’t a punch line, but a person, and her own experiences and fears were real.

Just as Anita’s were, where she could come off to others as angry. She had her own heartbreaks to share, her own PTSD to fuss over. Wraith had only caught her crying once, watching Anita flick the tears away and steady her voice when she saw Wraith. Steadying herself in what must have been years of practice. She’d never allowed herself to break down in front of anyone, trying to save face. That’s where their communication had strengthened. Where when Wraith needed her on her mind’s loudest days, and where Anita could cry into her chest without fear of being ever seen as weak or different.

Taking care of Anita was one of Wraith’s favorite things to do. Anita was still getting used to that all, so used to being the one who took care of others since she could remember. Even when Wraith had made it clear to Anita, fit with sitting her down and telling her to her face she wanted to take care of her and to help her take weight off her shoulders, Anita had been nervous.

Wraith was still adamant on it. Including very much in the bedroom where Anita felt like she would have to take charge, a lot of times Wraith would shove her back down. Climb into her lap and hold a hand around her throat and remind Anita who was in charge. Normally fit with Wraith crooning things like, ‘Let me take care of you, baby.’ or ‘Don’t think you can push me around this time’, all whilst watching Anita squirm with red cheeks and huffing.

That was something Wraith adored doing was making Anita blush. No one knew just how quietly flirty Wraith could be, only the slightest of hints in public. She’s sure only someone with a keen eye or knew her well would notice. Like Natalie or Bloodhound. Natalie would always giggle under her breath if Wraith passed by Anita, only her fingers skimming across her lower back when she passed by. The slightest of touches always making Anita stand up straighter and her voice a little breathier to whoever she was chatting with.

That was one of the things Wraith didn’t expect to miss so terribly with Anita gone. How she laid in bed most nights and thought of just reaching over and touching her. To hear that smoky voice sigh and mewl under her touches or to see her throw her head back with teeth marks and bruises lining the column of it. Wraith hadn’t expected to like sex as much as she did, or maybe it was just because of how unfairly attractive her girlfriend was.

The way she smiles could light up a room.

Her laughter makes our chest rumble with how deep it is.

The way she fusses with her curls in the morning.

When she calls us pet names it makes us happy-

When she moans it makes us happy–

Regardless, that’s where Wraith’s mind wanders while Anita is gone.

All. All of her mind.

It didn’t help that Wraith also didn’t like to masturbate. She had the tools to do it, they had plenty of toys together, it should have been simple to just grab a vibrator and go at it. But Wraith didn’t like the action, not without something to look at or listen to- or even, hell, perform for Anita. The action wasn’t satisfying, even if orgasm was brought. Leading her to daydream about Anita and gather more and more fantasies. They were also helped and fueled by the shirt Anita had left behind on the floor when changing, smelling of her scent and sweat and making Wraith sigh whenever she buried her nose into it.

During this time, Wraith had felt like her desperation had gotten a little high, leading her to masturbation even without Anita like she normally liked. It was making her dizzy, only making Wraith wind herself up tighter each time she had her hands on herself and imagined Anita instead. Imagining even her lips or her voice had her clit throbbing.

Fuck, she missed her.

Thank whatever Maker was out there that Anita would be on her way home on the flight in a few hours, it would take her a total of six to reach back to Solace. Wraith was now lying in bed, texting Anita and figuring she’d at least try and get her attention. It looked like Anita was busy, obviously of course, she must be wrapping some things up with Ramya. That doesn’t mean that Wraith doesn’t want to tease and start something up, however.

‘Do you want to go right to bed when you get home?’ Wraith texts, waiting for a reply which takes up to ten minutes. It’s a quick response of ‘nah’ in turn, no further details like Anita normally liked to give.

Wraith hums, lying her head back on the pillow and her phone on her chest as she considers. She wasn’t usually so…needy for attention. But she knew Anita would be on her way home soon, and now she knew Anita didn’t plan on sleeping. Through texts they’d both hinted at missing each other, Wraith being more straight forward in her sexual interests in those texts.

What would get Anita’s attention now? It’s not as if Wraith could just do something sexual to her from here–

A quick glance down at her body’s state of dress of Anita’s huge black hoodie with the Apex symbol in white over the right breast and her pair of black boyshorts makes Wraith pause. Anita always liked her in a half state of dress, always whining behind her and kissing up Wraith’s neck, her warm fingers sliding under her clothing. It always made Wraith feel so adored, so wanted. And now, she can’t help but give a crooked smirk at herself.

That was certainly one way to get your girlfriend’s attention.

Natalie had been the one to introduce Wraith to the concept of selfies. She’d said it was a great way to monitor progress, using her own transition as an example. And telling Wraith that it could help her remember things and see her growth. Since then, Wraith has been mindful to take selfies and pictures of important moments. Nudes, however, would be new on her list of trying.

Wraith moves into action, setting up her phone to snap a few pictures and sending a few to Anita.

What she doesn’t see is how Anita, in turn, is in her hotel room with Ramya who is casually leaned against a wall and chatting. Anita is being polite, listening with her phone in her lap on her bed and adding to the conversation here and there where it could be. But when she feels her phone buzz not once, not twice, but three times she picks it up to check the texts really quick. Normally Wraith didn’t double text, so a triple was concerning.

Only to open the chat box and the first thing she sees is Wraith lying on her back in bed, hoodie pulled up to cover the lower half of her face and show off her pierced breasts, soft tummy with her navel piercing and the light happy trail. She’s got half lidded eyes, one strong, plush leg with dark hair crossed over the other and the text ‘Miss you’ right underneath.

Anita can’t even look at the others just yet, her cheeks heating up and standing up abruptly mid-conversation. “Yeah, yeah, I agree with you on that. Hey, uh, it’s gettin’ real late, dontcha think?”

Ramya gives her a quizzical look, quirking a notched brow and looking her over. “Ya gettin’ old on me, ‘Nita? Look atcha! Fit as a fiddle, and you’re telling me you’re already bloody tired?” It’s a tease, gesturing over Anita’s form as if making her point.

“Hey, we had a long day and we have a flight to catch in a few hours. Don’t blame me for wanting to catch a few winks before we head back home. Some of us have a gal waiting at home for us.” Anita playfully pokes back, standing up to usher Ramya out of the room who makes a whip sound that makes Anita roll her eyes dramatically huge. The second she’s out, the door is shut, locked and Anita is practically running to her phone. Feeling more like a high school girl than a woman in her 30’s.

The other two photos she sees is one where Wraith is lying on her side, her curves more accentuated and two of her fingers in her mouth, presses down on her tongue to show the glisten of her tongue piercing and a light amount of drool. Her eyes are once again half lidded, milky white and her breasts exposed still. Anita moans low in her throat, running a hand through her curls and feeling her own mouth water. Wanting to get her mouth on her breasts like Wraith liked and dig her fingers into her hips to hump against her shamelessly.

The next one is more scandalous. Her panties have been ditched; The angle lower with her soft thighs spread open to reveal the dark, soft hair on her cunt. How her fat clit peeks from her lower lips glistening with slick sticking to her inner lips and making Anita practically whimper at the sight. She could already taste and smell her all the way from here, practically hearing how Wraith would breathily tell her what a good girl she was-

“Shit-” Anita hisses under her breath, rolling her hips into nothing and having to reach down to grope herself through her tactical pants just to apply pressure with her palm. Everything in her throbbed, already aching to be home to feel Wraith’s cold fingers tug at her hair and show her what she’s been missing. Where she’s been wanting her.

There’s a scramble to kick off her boots as she hits Call next to Wraith’s name, consisting of a ghost and heart emoji. If Wraith could see her practically bouncing on one leg to rip off her shoes and pants, she’d probably never let her hear the end of it. But when your girl shows off her cute cunt and soft thighs, do you really have any other choice than to make a fool of yourself?

“Hey, baby,” Is heard on the phone and Anita’s heart pounds as she lies in bed, left in her loose tanktop and her underwear, her pants successfully kicked off. “Thought you were busy.” Wraith’s voice is a low tease, already making Anita throb as her eyes flutter and a flustered chuckle comes from her chest.

“I was. Someone was just impatient.”  

“You don’t sound too patient yourself there, sweetheart.” Wraith’s voice practically coos in Anita’s ear, catching onto her breathiness. Anita flushes, her hand already down the front of her boxer briefs, her thighs parted and idly petting over her lower lips. Ghosting pressure across the hood of her clit.

“When a pretty thing like you sends pictures of herself all open and taunting me when she knows I can’t taste her right now- maybe you’d lose some patience too, Ghostie.” Anita huffs back, gripping her phone a little tighter when she hears Wraith’s soft, breathy chuckle. It was a rarity for Wraith to touch herself- Anita is dizzy off the mental images dancing in her head of what she could look like right now. So wet, soft thighs parted, her fat clit just begging to be licked.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Wraith starts, allowing Anita to hear the hitch in her breath that already has Anita circling her clit with two fingers and biting her lower lip. ”Think a week is too long to not have you here. I’ve been missing waking you up by eating that sweet little cunt, baby. Been thinking about getting my hands on you the second you come home- just want to taste you. Wanna make you feel good. Miss your hands on me.”

Anita’s face is flushed, arching into her own touch as her other hand squeezes a bit tighter around her phone. Her mouth feels dry, imagining how the piercing on Wraith’s tongue felt every time it teasingly flicked over the tip of her clit with a curl of her tongue. “Y-yeah- a week is too long. Been missin’ ya over here, too.” Anita manages to breathe out, applying a bit more pressure on her clit as she circles it.

“You left a shirt here,” Wraith sighs into the phone, a slight sound of something brushing against the phone that Anita can only guess is said shirt. Especially when she hears an inhale that makes her ears burn. Wraith had a thing about scents, especially whenever Anita came home from the gym. “Wish it was your panties instead.”

“Fuck, baby-” Anita hisses out, humping against her hand and letting her head toss back to expose her neck to nobody. If Wraith were here, she’d certainly latch on, leave bruises with her teeth and lips like promised.

“Wonder if Elliott will want to have a get together when you get home. Think I could- ah- convince you to fuck me in the bathroom? You could wear your cock under your clothes, only we would know. Maybe I’ll let you fuck my face after, taste your cunt and let you steal my breath. Wouldn’t you like that, baby? Haven’t you been itching to be my good girl?” Wraith’s voice is a breathy tease in her ear, not giving Anita even an inch to let her mind settle.

She’s practically frantic in how her fingers circle her clit, rubbing herself back and forth and her eyebrows pinching together. She’s sure she’s whining into the phone right now, only matching Wraith’s hitched breaths and sighs.

Anita can imagine that as clear as day. Wraith on her knees, looking up at her under her lashes whilst Anita fists her hair and humps against her mouth. Imagining that look Wraith always got, where she’d be moaning through her nose and clawing at Anita’s hips, guiding her on how to fuck her face and taking that control that made Anita shiver with arousal.

A moan buzzes through the phone and Anita whimpers as her clit twitches. Feeling herself getting closer, even more so when Wraith sighs into the phone, “I want to tie you to a chair when you get home. Want to show you what you’ve been missing being so goddamn far. I’ll spread my legs open for you, fuck myself right in front of you and you’ll have to beg and beg just to even get the pleasure of seeing me cum.”

That does it for Anita, a cry leaving her lips of a swear as she cums. Frantic to hump up against her fingers as they stutter around her clit. Wraith doesn’t seem too far behind, a beautiful little shaky sigh heard in the phone and a low groan as she must have cum herself.

The cool down is fit with them being soft to one another. Soft murmurs of missing the other as they both clean up, Anita promising that Wraith could have whatever she wanted when she got home. Fit with a little nervous chuckle of, “Just try not to kill me with your sexual appetite. I can only take so many rounds.”

To which Wraith had softly laughed in turn, the sound of her flopping onto the bed followed by her low voice. “You’ll go as many rounds as I want, sweetheart. And you’ll say thank you after each one.”

When they both get off the phone after Anita’s yawning, Wraith quickly sets up to clean around her room. Making sure the sheets are swapped with clean ones, water is in the fridge and some of Anita’s favorite snacks. Wraith doesn’t even bother getting anymore dressed, the same hoodie with different panties since her other ones got soaked. She tries to lie in bed and settle down, but that inevitably doesn’t work when Anita texts her a few hours later to let her know she’s on her flight home.

By the time Wraith hears the keypad outside and Anita’s stepping in, she hardly gets to set down her bag before Wraith is pouncing on her. She’s quickly caught, hands under her ass and her legs around Anita’s waist, arms around her neck as Anita laughs breathlessly. “Woah, woah, missed you too, baby.”

But Anita’s breath is quickly stolen from her when cold fingers are cupping her cheeks, her dark eyes being guided to look into Wraith’s milky white ones. There’s a moment passing between them when Wraith leans in, brushing their noses together and Anita’s breath catching. Squeezing under her soft thighs and groaning lightly under her breath. Her breath hitches when Wraith’s pierced tongue flicks cheekily over her lips, curling upwards with her eyes half lidded and watching as Anita’s lips part open in anticipation.

“Take us to the bedroom. I want you to strip for me. I’m sure you can follow those simple orders, right?” Her voice is low, her cold breath fanning across Anita’s full lips that pull into a small smirk at her teasing. When Anita leans in to kiss her, Wraith leans back, a smile playing on her lips and her eyes dancing with amusement. “Already disobeying, sweetheart?”

A groan leaves Anita, but she obeys, marching dutifully towards the bedroom. Wraith is sat down on the edge of the bed, hungrily watching Anita take a few steps back. Anita notes the chair a few feet from the bed with rope already ready. Her cheeks flush as she shrugs out of her flannel, pulling her tank top up and over her head with her sports bra. Feeling Wraith’s hungry gaze and hearing her sigh at the sight of her upper body exposed. “Beautiful.”

Anita’s cheeks flush at the praise, shakily exhaling as she pulls her belt from its loops. Her boots and socks are kicked off, working out of her tactical pants nice and slow just to make Wraith growl in impatience. Anita knew she’d get it for that, but she couldn’t help it when she peeks up to see how Wraith’s watching her so intently.

When she’s stripped, Wraith is guiding her to sit back into the chair. Anita sits obediently as ever, her arms tied to the arms of the chair and her legs tied spread apart to the legs of the chair. She’s left exposed like this, reminded of it when Wraith stands in front of her, moving onto her lap and making Anita whimper with her desire to grab her. Instead, Wraith grabs her jaw, tipping her chin up to look up at her. “Show me your tongue.”

Anita blushes, heat curling down her spine as she obeys and lets her tongue loll out. Hearing the blessed words of, ”Good girl.” That send a moan tumbling from her lips just as Wraith kisses her, meeting tongue first. Anita’s hips try to come up to press into her to no avail, another moan leaving her when Wraith grips her jaw a bit tighter, licking over her tongue in slow, languid swipes as if tasting her.

Anita’s hips are rocking up into the pressure of Wraith in her lap without thinking, not getting anywhere with it but able to hear how her girlfriend sighs in arousal into her mouth. Anita mimics the sound when Wraith pulls back, her eyes unfocused but a whine arising from her lips when pressure is gone from her lap and Wraith is moving back towards the bed, picking something up off the floor on her way. “Baby- c’mon, not with your teasing already-”

“I told you what I wanted to do to you when you came back.” Wraith only hums back, her panties flicked at Anita and landing in her lap where Anita’s eyes follow. Swallowing thickly at the sight of the undergarment and the wet spot on the front, wanting so badly to somehow lift and bury her face into it. But her gaze quickly raises to look at Wraith who is leaned back on one arm, legs spread open, her hoodie pulled up and above her chest. Anita’s panties in one hand.

Anita moans at the sight of her so wet. Her large clit already engorged and peeking so sweetly from her lower lips and she wants nothing more than to lick the slick from her cunt. Especially when Wraith reaches down to spread herself open. Anita also notices her black nail polish freshly applied and yet to be chipped, she can’t help but smile at the idea of Wraith applying it before she came home just to look a bit ‘nicer’ for her. The little things.

“You’re smiling,” Wraith notes aloud, rolling her head to the side in a tilt as her fingers trace from her hole up to just beneath her clit with a shudder. “Something on your mind?”

“Just noticed you repainted your nails is all.”

“You’re more focused on my nails than my pussy out on display right now?”

The look on Wraith’s face of amusement is what makes Anita break, laughing with a smile bursting across her face and dimples creasing her cheeks in that way that made Wraith’s heart pound. Even with her bound and nude, Wraith still can’t help but softly smile back, rolling her eyes and helping bring the situation back.

It’s not hard when Wraith rubs her clit in circles for Anita, making sure she’s watching as the laughter turns to soft, wanting sighs instead. Soft sounds leave Wraith’s own lips, getting off on the way Anita’s eyes trace over her body and her hips roll into nothing to match Wraith’s own speed of touching herself. A moan downright leaves Anita’s lips when Wraith brings her panties to her face, inhaling her scent and sighing with an arch of her back. “Missed your scent so much. Might just have to keep you tied up all night, baby. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind cumming on my tongue alone for a few hours.”

Anita groans, her head falling back but her eyes never leaving Wraith. Watching when she sets the panties down, reaching somewhere behind her until she finds a round bullet vibrator. She flicks it on, drawing it over her inner lips with her soft thighs quivering beautifully whenever it runs over her clit. Anita moans low in her throat in desire when she watches the silver bullet disappear into Wraith’s cunt, the cord and the dial being the only thing sticking out of her.

Wraith’s sounds are soft and wanting, keeping eye contact with half lidded eyes as her body trembles and her fingers circle her large clit. Carefully jerking it off by sandwiching it between her thumb and forefinger.

Anita can’t help the way her hips hump up into nothing at the same time Wraith jerks herself off. Each rise of her hips allowing Wraith to see the slick sticking to the chair in little strands, near about drooling at the sight of it alone and feeling a pulse of heat down her spine.

Fuck her.

Spread her open, make her cry underneath you.

Wouldn’t she look so cute filled with cum?

She’s ours.

Ours-

Wraith’s eyes are milky white with everyone chiming in at once as she looks over Anita, her eyebrows knitting as she starts to vocalize what she’s thinking of doing to her. Her voice shaking with little gasps between words. “I want to take care of you, baby, want to ruin you and see you cry f-for me. Do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart? You’re so wet, I can- ah- see it from h-here-”

By the time Wraith’s cumming, Anita’s a mess. Whimpering and straining on her bonds, her lips babbling pleads that bubble down to ‘please’s and caught between wanting to get fucked and wanting to taste Wraith. Wraith debates on leaving her tied up, just using her like that to her heart’s content, but she ends up untying her and being caught in a hungry kiss. Wraith is the one being guided back onto the bed, but Anita is quickly flipped. Shushed gently before teeth sink into her throat.

Wraith sucks dark hickeys up her neck, biting down her shoulders and collarbones where Anita swears when she gets her cold mouth over a nipple. Lightly biting over it and leaving her mark surrounding the areola, her pierced tongue leaves a trail down Anita’s abdomen, kissing over her hips and down lower and lower. Until Anita’s fisting her fingers in her hair when Wraith’s mouth finally gets on her cunt.

The temperature difference is always a shock, but that soft laughter soon turns to moaning when Wraith noses her way against her. One arm hooks under Anita’s thigh, pulling it up so she can focus her mouth on her clit. Her other hand sliding underneath her to fit two fingers inside of her wet sex with the sort of ease that makes Wraith hiss at how slick she is. She takes care of Anita like this, whose fingers fist into Wraith’s hair as she licks and suckles at her. Fingers twisting and curling upwards until she’s spread out enough for a third that she clenches harshly down on.

Her first orgasm is fit with her hips pressing up into Wraith’s mouth, her hands fisting her hair to keep her still. The way her body jerks and cries leave her lips is like a drug to Wraith, looking up at her to see Anita biting her bottom lip and her brows knitted when Wraith’s fingers still keep pumping into her. Never stilling as her tongue flicks against her sensitive clit to rock her through it and then her second one.

By the time Anita’s nice and loose, dripping wet and left on the bed rocking her hips into nothing, Wraith takes the time to fit her harness on. A more dragon-styled one with a black and dark red marbling, the tip tapered and almost sharp with ribs going down below it to a flared base that acted as a small knot. The girth of it big enough to be unable to circle your fingers around it in one hand, and the length being a total of seven inches.

The length is lubed up generously despite Anita being wet enough she probably doesn’t need it. Wraith fits between her thighs, hitching them around her waist as she slowly sinks the cock into her girlfriend. Immediately, Anita’s head tosses to the side to reveal the bruises and bite marks along her skin, her eyes near about rolling into the back of her head when Wraith bottoms out into her.

“Look at you. So beautiful covered in my marks. Do you like being mine, sweetheart?” Wraith sighs out, feeling how Anita’s hips twitch upwards at the praise. One of her hands holds up under Anita’s thigh, the other resting around her throat without choking, just holding her to feel how Anita’s breath hitches. Her hips start thrusting into her, starting with small humps and building them up until Anita’s body is rocking. One of Anita’s hands comes up, loosely gripping around Wraith’s wrist and squeezing as they lock eyes.

Anita’s eyes are half lidded, the lighting in the room making her freckles stand out even more on her dark skin. Her dimples show their existence when she flickers a lazy smile up at Wraith, her lips forming a swear but no sound following it besides a whine. Wraith’s heart twists in her chest, so many different lives pleading and begging their own poetic symphonies of their love for Anita. How much she meant to Wraith, how she would kill for Anita in a heartbeat if it meant that smile stayed.

Wraith’s hips have started fucking into her harder without thinking. Gripping her thigh a little tighter and digging her blunt nails in when Anita’s body starts to tremble again. “There you go, baby, go ahead. Cum on my cock. You’re so beautiful, so pretty, my pretty baby girl.” Wraith is spilling out praise after praise, sending Anita over the edge with a guttural cry. It’s quickly muffled by Wraith leaning down to kiss her, catching her in the open-mouthed kiss and swallowing every gasp and moan she releases until Wraith stills her hips. Cock buried deep inside her.

Once Anita is calmed down with a few more kisses, cleanup is to be had as Wraith slips out of her carefully. The toy is washed and she returns in just her hoodie with a wash cloth, cleaning up the sticky, wet mess between Anita’s thighs with soft kisses pressed over her abdomen and hips. Anita rewards her, fingers lazily brushing through her hair and tucking dark strands behind Wraith’s pierced ears. Soft words are exchanged before Wraith goes and cleans everything else up and grabs water. Returning with a dark chocolate bar and some pretzels that makes Anita beam when she sees them.

“My favorite snacks? What, are you trying to go for round four, baby?” She teases, letting Wraith hand them to her and climb into bed next to her. Her arms wind around Anita’s waist, burying herself into her chest and pulling the blankets over them both. She makes a negative sound, inhaling Anita’s scent and sighing softly.

“Just wanted to make sure you were spoiled a bit. And as an apology.”

“An apology for what, Ghostie?” Anita hums, taking a square of her chocolate and stroking her fingers through Wraith’s hair.

“For what I’m going to be doing to you all week in this bedroom.”

They both agree that night, later when they’re intertwined in each other’s bodies.

A week was far too long.

[emiisanxious]

Everything is Alright

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Relationships:

Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders

Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders

Additional Tags:

Comfort

Fluff

Light Angst

Alternate Universe - Human

Summary: “Virgil had a tiring shift and all that he wanted was Roman.

Really I'm just bad at summary.”

"Hey... Can you go downstairs to meet me up?" He was able to let the plea out of his tone, although it was a matter of need, not just selfish.

"Sorry Vee, I'm near done with my work, need 10 more minutes and then I will be free to stay with you." Was the answer he received from the other man, he let a soft sigh and murmurs. "It's okay..." With that, he hung up the phone as he walks past the gates and then starts to walk up the stair. His apartment is on the third floor of three floors. It's more likely a private apartment through. Since the 6 men inside all know each other since childhood.

It wasn't that late, like 11 pm, but it was already late for three of the man are been sleeping. Logan, Patton, and Janus needed to sleep early since they wake up and go to work early. Remus worked all night, so he probably wasn't there, while Roman his actual boyfriend had a messed-up schedule as a writer and theater professor.

Virgil on the other hand had a more messed-up schedule as he is a babysitter. Honestly, the only reason he liked this type of work is that the only interaction he has with adults is when he is receiving the notes about the child. No matter what type of children, he does have a way to deal with them, weird enough the kids loved him. And with his anxiety, he can remember and follow all the rules that the parents need. So in general, this type of job is perfect for him.

But... It does have bad sides for him. Because of his anxiety, he has a hard time to eat or sleep while taking care of the child, which can drain his energy quickly. So today was one of those days, where the parents just told him that he would need to do trick-or-treat with the kid, put them to sleep, and tomorrow at eight or worse nine they would be back.

It was nerve-wracking when he got a call saying that they would be delayed because their familiar problem got worse. He couldn't blame them, their grandma was in the hospital and they were taking care of her he got it. What doesn't got it was his anxiety.

What was supposed to be a 12 hours shift, went far more than 24 hours which he wasn't expecting; He was tired, but that was it, they all were safe and all he needed was get back to his home. In his way, he called Roman, he knew very well that he was been a needed selfish, but he truly needed some comfort right now. The disappointment as he hears the answer, he couldn't do anything, Roman needed to finish after all...

So as he finally is back, he locks the door, let go of his shoes, and without thinking, he goes straight to his room, let his bag fall slowly on the floor, to then take out his clothes, wash his hands, change to his pajamas and just throw himself on the bed. Pulling the blanket over his head as he hugs his legs.

It was fine, he was already home, but he couldn't help the insecurity thoughts that passed on his mind. He didn't hear when Roman called him, but he did jump when he felt arms around him hugging him tightly. "I'm here, I'm sorry I couldn't go downstairs. But I'm here now, and everything is fine Vee."

Those words did him move from where he was, to turn and just bury his head on Roman's chest. He wasn't feeling well, it was always a drain when his work didn't go as it should be. "Did you eat something or slept?" He could hear the concern in his boyfriend's tone. Although he was feeling nonverbal right now, so he just shook his head.

"Are you feeling nonverbal?" A nod, as all the answers he could give him. "How about... I order something light for us to eat, and while we wait we just stay like this. When the meal comes, I will get it and we can go watch something while eating, sounds good?" He had to move a bit to look at Roman, and then nod before moving back to bury his head on his chest. "Okay then." As the writer moved to pick up his phone he ordered something in silence.

Although when he was done, he did put on some Disney piano music, and just stayed there playing with purple hair, murmuring the musics. It took a whole two songs, till Virgil felt better. "I'm just... What if I messed up? You know, I... It was already 20 hours awake, and it was still 1 pm... I didn't eat anything and..."

"Shushu... I'm pretty sure you didn't mess up anything Vee. But to calm you down how about... I ask questions about it and you try to answer?" That was a nice exercise they developed to calm him down and talk about his day so he just nodded.

"What time the kid woke up? Did the kid brush their teeth?"

"8 am, and yes..." He had to stop a bit, to think about it since at this time his head is aching by lack of sleep and food.

"Nice, what you gave for breakfast?"

"Hm... Peanut Butter jelly bread? And Juice. Around 9 am... Because he helped me to do the bed."

"Okay, then what type of exercise you did with them?"

"Well, it was 9:30 am, that is when I got the call saying they would get long to return... So I asked if the kid had homework to do, and then I helped him to do it..." He started to breathe a bit more even and calm now.

"Seems like you improvised well ~! So, lunchtime? What you gave him?"

"Yeah... We stayed till noon doing his homework, mostly because he had so many questions... But after that, I gave him some leftovers that I could find on the fridge... After that, I let him watch tv and gave him some sweets since he was behaving. For dinner, I did some sandwiches and when their parents were back he was playing a game on his ps4."

"Did he broke any of the parent's rules?"

"Nah, I already looked for this kid once, he normally is well behaved. But he did miss his parents..."

"See, everything is fine Vee."

He sighed in relief, feeling his head far quieter as he looks to Roman, and place a small kiss on his lips. "Thanks... I guess I passed my limit of staying awake and just needed you to ground me down..." He murmurs as he now started to feel bad about needing his boyfriend's attention. Although before he could think too much about it, the brunet just passed his hands over his chin and pulled him in a deep and lovely kiss, which lasted for a minute, before he let go.

"Hey, relax. I'm your boyfriend for 5 years now, and you're starting to trail off about how needed you're right now. I know this look and this pattern. But it's not bad, I do love to give you all the attention I can ~! And all the cuddles and caress. Even if you didn't ask, I would still give you. Because you deserve it okay?" Roman was always making sure that Virgil understood that, and that is something that he was glad about.

"Okay, Prince." He smiles, now feeling more light and calm, as he looks back to his boyfriend. "Thanks."

"Shushu Emo, let's just appreciate the music till the food is here okay?" A nod was all he gave the other as he just stayed there cuddling. Although halfway he had to sit down and shake his head. "I'm going to shower..." He looked to Roman who just smiled and then when to pick up some clothes, going to the bathroom attached to the bedroom he undressed and started the shower.

His boyfriend though stayed there, putting the music a bit louder, as he promised he wasn't going to leave unless necessary. During his bath, he could hear the phone calling and the warning that the food was there, where he could see Roman leaving to pick up and Virgil just finished his bath.

Changing clothes and drying his hair he put up some clothes before returning to the living room, where he turned the TV and choose a movie to watch. Soon enough Roman was back with the food, going to the kitchen to serve it right and pick up some drink.

He ate the food and drink it, gladly that his boyfriend didn't put a lot, probably already knowing he won't be able to eat that much. Halfway through the movie, he started to feel sleepy, as he was finally able to rest, where Roman just let him rest on his shoulder. When the movie ended he turned the TV off and then carried him to their bed.

Turning the lights off and then slipping to lay down at his side. Letting relaxing music playing and a small night lamp on, as he just hugs Virgil and cuddles with him. "It was just a hard shift... You will be fine tomorrow. If not, I will be here to take care of you." He places a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's forehead and then falls asleep with him.

Notes:

So... It's somewhat based on a true experience, yet I just wanted to try something fluff with comfort? I dunno. My mind is weird. Also, I can't sleep because I need to keep my messed-up schedule.

About this: Here are some random things I didn't write in the fic but thought about:

- They are most likely the same height, a few inches tall or shorter. - They also have the same age range between 30, the difference between months. - They are all in a large relationship. Although some click more than others because of time. - If Roman wasn't home, he would jump to Patton and Logan. - They all have different jobs.

I honestly want to write more as them human and on his universe, if you have suggestion drop it down at my tumblr.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 12 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: Forced feeding of a drink

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr

Chapter 12: Entrapment

It was difficult to tell how much time had passed since he had been in the room. There was no apparent clock, even if he could swear he could hear the soft, steady ticking of one, and he didn't carry a watch or phone he could check. Danny's eyes wondered to one of the white walls for a moment as he tried to imagine it with a non-frosted window. Even a glance outside would be better than nothing. At least then he could tell for certain if it was day or night.

Heck, even watching the scenery for a while would be an improvement over his current activity of lying face up on the eerily pristine bed and staring at the ceiling. He had already checked the entire room (including under the bed) six times for anything he could use to at least get out of the room, and he could only do that so many times before it started to get to him. The exhaustion didn't help. While he was searching, his limbs had decidingly refused to remain normal for more than a few minutes at a time. From the time the strange occurrences began, he had experienced a few bad days, but nothing compared to this particular one. It was almost as if simply being in the room was making it worse.

The ceiling held no answers or a hidden plan of escape, but he continued to stare at it anyways. He knew he should be trying to escape while worrying about Winston and his friends, but he was unable to summon the effort. It was almost as if an odd hollowness had replaced his heart. He slowly sat up as he considered the strangeness of it. Maybe it was just that exhausted, or maybe the room was getting to him more than he thought.

.....

A sweet smell caught his attention as he opened his eyes. Groggy and confused, he slowly sat up and stared for a moment as his brain tried to process what he was seeing. While he had been asleep, someone had placed a silver tray which held a small pastry and an unknown drink with a strangely appealing color on the floor. He was rather surprised he could see it from his location, but perhaps whoever had put it there had placed it there on purpose.

Curious, he slowly crawled off the bed and moved over to it. The pastry didn't seem like anything special, but he was starting to feel hungry and allowed himself to try it. The drink was different. He noted that whatever was in it was thicker than water and gave off a strong yet attractively sweet smell. It was also an unusual green color, which was what made him wary of it. The drink looked a little too much like the antifreeze he had occasionally helped Winston put into his car. He was probably being paranoid, but he was locked in room without any apparent way for him to escape. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that whoever put him there was going to eventually kill him. Isn't that what usually happened to kidnapped kids?

His eyes widened as the weight of his previous thought hit him. When a child went missing, didn't the news usually mention it was nearly impossible to find the child alive if the child couldn't be found within twenty four hours? And didn't adolescents fall into the same category when it came to the statistics? Panic welled up in his chest as he stared at his hands. Exactly how long had he been in the room? If anything, he was probably didn't have much time left. Well, he wasn't going to give up without a fight!

A guttural yell escaped him as he charged the only door in the room. The wood quivered for a moment as he bounced off of it and landed painfully on the floor. Undeterred and filled with resolve, he rushed it again and again with similar results. His whole body began to ache from the effort, but it wasn't enough to make him stop. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die! Not while his friends didn't know where he was (if they even knew he was missing), nor while Winston was still in the hospital. He just had to escape!

But he couldn't do anything if he was exhausted. After bouncing off the door about ten more times, he allowed himself to relax and rest against the side of the bed for a little before he tried again. His right shoulder was throbbing and his butt was sore from hitting the ground so many times, but he tried to ignore the pain as he examined the door. What was it made of? Steel? There didn't seem to be any sign of damage on it, but he had to have done something to it. When he recovered more, a closer look would be in order. Aiming for a weak spot would be far more beneficial than continuing to blindly run at it.

A though occurred to him as he looked at the door. Maybe he could pull the pins out of the hinges… It was so simplistic, it could actually work. Curious as to why he didn't think of it earlier, he slowly stood up and limped over. Wow, ramming it had taken more out of him than he thought.

He ran his fingers along the frame as he tried to find some sign of the hinges, but quickly realized it was futile. This door opened from the other side… There went that idea. Well, while he was there he might as well check the door for any signs of damage. There wasn't much to find, but there was some near the stubbornly locked doorknob. It wasn't as much as he had hoped but a few more hits to the right side of the door should be enough to at least get him out of the room. From there… he would have to wing it. He just hoped there weren't any other doors like the one currently keeping him captive out there. This one was bad enough.

Deciding it was not the best of ideas to attack the door again in his current state, he headed back towards the bed and laid down. He stole a quick look at the platter of food before he buried his face in the pillow. He was starting to get a bit hungry, but there was no way he was going to eat poisoned food. A growl combined with a gnawing feeling in his stomach entertained him as he drifted back into sleep.

…

"Why… won't… this thing…. Break?" Danny yelled as he kicked the door. After waking up, he had resumed his task of running at the door, but after no further progress, frustration had taken hold of him. He sighed as he banged his head off the door. If he couldn't get past something as simple as a door, how was he going to escape?

A clicking sound caught his attention. Glancing down at the doorknob, he noticed movement. Suspicious, he backed away and waited. The doorknob continued to rattle for a moment before a hard yank pulled the door completely open. The man who was revealed glanced at the door carefully before looking at Danny and smiling. "What exactly have you been getting yourself into? Hmm?"

"Y-you!" Danny stammered as recognition hit him. Vlad Masters had done well on his promise. Somehow the man had managed to take him from the police station and put him in this prison of a room. This was a worst case scenario… well, maybe not the worst. At least this man didn't particularly want to kill him, he hoped. "Where am I? What do you want from me?"

Vlad shook his pointer finger as if he was telling off a young child. "All in due time, my boy. But first, I must ask, how are you feeling?"

A blank stare was the only response Danny could give as he tried to process the question. This man kidnapped him and then turned around and asked about his condition. Was it him or did something just not add up?

Vlad took a couple steps into the room and glanced around. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the untouched tray of food Danny had carefully moved out of the way. "I see that you didn't touch your snack. I had a servant place it there in case you got hungry… It's been a couple days since I placed you here. You really should eat something…. Or at the very least, have a drink."

A couple days? He had been here for a couple days? Jeez… this room really did steal all sense of time. He shook his head. He would have to deal with it later; there were more important problems… like getting away from the madman in front of him. "Sorry, but that's been the last thing on my mind," he snapped.

Danny watched carefully as Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. From the limited interactions he had previously had with the man, he had learned enough to know Vlad was slightly annoyed. "Come now, Daniel," Vlad's tone almost matched the vary one Winston had used in the past when he was trying to convince him to do his chores. "Believe it or not, I do have your best interests at heart. Starving yourself isn't going to accomplish anything and neither is repeated throwing yourself against the door. You'll just be doing more damage to yourself than to it."

"Says the man who kidnapped me."

"I don't expect you to understand the reasons for my actions… at least not yet…" The older man moved to the tray to retrieve its lone cup before turning back to him. "But I assure you, everything was done for your benefit."

"Sorry if I don't believe you…"

"I assumed you wouldn't listen. We'll discuss this later once you've calmed down."

"'Calmed down'? Calm down! You've fricken kidnapped me! How the hell am I supposed to calm down?" His fists were balled and his shoulders tense as he spoke. It was taking almost all of his will power to not punch him in the face. Actually, that might not be a bad idea. Vlad didn't look all that strong, and he was a business man (they don't have time to work out)…. One good punch to the face should knock him out. And with the door finally being open, he could make his escape.

Without another thought, he charged Vlad. The older man looked surprised as Danny's fist came close in on its target. Danny smirked as he had a clean shot, but stumbled in horror as he landed. Instead of hitting a wall of flesh, his fist along with his body just passed through the man. Unsure exactly what happened, he slowly backed away. Glancing to his side, he realized he had a clear shot to the door and made a break for it.

Before he could even get through the opening, a strong pair of hands grabbed him from behind. He fought, flailed, and yelled in an attempt to break free, but whomever had him had a grasp like a vice. Apparently tired of his antics, his captor spun him around , let him go for a brief confusing moment, before using one arm to pin him against his body and to grab his chin with the other.

Being unable to move his head, Danny had no idea who was keeping him from escaping. Or, for that matter, where he had come from since it seemed like only Vlad had come alone. However, the person holding him felt unusually cold, almost as if he had been standing in a walk-in freezer just prior to him grabbing hold of him. Whoever this person was, he was a major obstacle in his goal to escape.

"Hold him still," Vlad commanded of his unknown aid as he approached the pair. Danny felt a little more than unnerved as he watched. There were no traces of kindness on his face, just a cold, calculating, business-like stare which sent shivers down his spine. "Daniel, I was hoping you weren't going to force me to do this, but as you've been rather uncooperative, you leave me little choice."

"W-what are you doing?" he stammered as Vlad held out the cup of the strange green liquid to him.

"It's simple really. You're body is already in the middle of realizing what it really is. This can take some time, but I know of a way of… let's just phrase it as 'speeding up the process'."

"I don't want any!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a very childish thing to say, but he was absolutely terrified of whatever the drink or Vlad was going to do to him. "Get away!"

"You're in no position to give orders boy," the person holding him hissed into his ear and adjusted his grip so he could open his mouth by putting pressure on his cheeks.

Danny tried to break out of his captor's grasp, but he was far too strong. He barely managed a wiggle when Vlad poured the liquid into his open mouth. Unable to move, he was forced to drink the entire glass. Despite its sweet odor, it had a terribly bitter taste which was coupled with a burning sensation. It was enough to make him gag, and his stomach didn't appreciate it any better than his taste buds. The man who was holding him decided to let go of him, allowing him to drop to the floor, just in time to allow him to retch.

It seemed to take several long moments for him to regain control of his stomach. Once he did, he stole a look at Vlad, who seemed had a cold air of amusement around him. However, his attention was quickly taken by the figure besides the billionaire. It appeared to have a masculine shape, but it was clearly not human. Its skin had a sickly blue sheen, and its eyes were a sickening familiar soulless glowing red. An ethereal glow surrounded it as it floated a few inches off of the floor. Danny felt unnerved as recognition hit him; even though he had never seen it clearly before, this figure was the very same creature that had cornered him in the graveyard.

Vlad caught Danny's gaze and smiled. "I see you've previously met my associate, Plasmius."

Plasmius…? Why did that name sound so familiar to him? Wait… Winston had mentioned a person by a similar name when… His eyes widened as recognition hit him. "I d-don't understand…. W-why do you know it?"

"Whatever do you mean, my boy?"

"Winston… Winston said that he… it… attacked my parents. It's the reason why they're gone!" He weakly tried to stand, but his previous injuries from hitting the door suddenly seemed amplified making it incredibly difficult. "I don't understand. He said you were friends with them! Why… Why would you work with the thing that took them away?"

"It's rather simple, Daniel," the creature, Plasmius, told him with a wave of the hand. Without wasting another minute, it drove straight into Vlad. Horrified, Danny stayed rooted to the spot as Vlad's eyes glowed red for a moment. As they faded, a black ring which cackled with slight discharges of energy appeared around the man's waist. It then split into two and each one passed over one have of the body: one towards the feet, the other, the head. As they passed, Vlad's being was quickly replaced with that of Plasmius'. When the rings disappeared, Vlad Masters was gone; only Plasmius remained.

There was no way he had just witnessed what he did. It had to be a dream! There was no way a man could turn into a monster! It just wasn't possible!

"Can you really not believe what you just witnessed?" Plasmius asked as it floated closer to him. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run, but he couldn't. His fear had rooted him to the spot, and he was about to pay for it dearly. "Vlad Masters and Vlad Plasmius are truly one in the same even if one appears human while the other, a ghost." And, as to prove its point, it summoned the black rings again. Once they disappeared, Vlad Masters carefully dropped to the floor while continuing to move. "You asked me why I attacked your family. There are several reasons, but I suppose the primary one involves you."

"W-what do you mean…? Ugh!" As he spoke, a wave of pain raced through his body, dropping him down to his knees. He tried to steady himself by using one of his hands, but it refused by slipping through the floor instead of offering support. Danny stared at his arm in horror as the translucent appearance of his hand began to spread upwards towards his shoulder.

A chuckle escaped Vlad as he watched Danny's predicament with a sickening satisfaction. "Isn't it obvious? You're a lot more like me than you realize." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Do you believe in curses, Daniel? Even if you don't, you should as you're living proof of one. Legend states a family once delved too far into their work of studying the afterlife. To make sure their secrets would never be known, several powerful spirits cursed the family. Fifteen generations would pass before a male child would be born to them who neither completely belonged to the material or spirit realms…"

"Though this boy would appear human for his first fifteen years of life, he would come into his monstrous inheritance on his date of birth and forever after walk as a symbol of chaos." Vlad then knelt down and grabbed the boy's shoulder to make it easier for him to stare into his eyes. "Do you get it now? Everything I've done was to get a hold of you and the power you will soon possess."

"Y-you're lying! There's no way…! I can't be anything like you! You're a ghost… Th-they're dead! I'm not… I'm not…!" Danny pushed the older man away from his as he scooted backwards towards the wall. None of what he… no, it, said made any sense. Curse? Spirits? Did it mean it was going to turn him into a ghost too? He shook his head to try and clear away the thought. Vlad had said he wasn't going to hurt him… but that was before he showed him what he really was. What was he going to do?

A creepy laugh rang through the room. Vlad sneered at him as his laugh died. "Whoever said you had to die to become a ghost? But, you'll find out what I mean soon. It appears that the concentrated ectoplasm I gave you is finally starting to take effect." A satisfied look crossed his face while moving towards the door. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. I'm sure you'll be a lot more cooperative when I return."

Danny barely noticed when Vlad slammed the door closed. His body was starting to feel like it was on fire burning, yet freezing him as it began to consume him. He convulsed as his body tried to reject the unnatural feeling, but it was to no avail. Time which was already slow within the room seemed to come to a crawl as the pain took precedence over every other thought.

Unsure what drove him to move, he tried to force himself to the bed. It wouldn't accomplish much, but its promise of comfort appealed to his wreck of a body. Every step was sheer torture, but the call of the pristine sheets was enough to force him to keep moving.

Another wave of pain rocked his body, sending him to the floor mere inches from his goal. He groaned in agony as he realized it was getting worse. In a last attempt for some stability, he desperately grasped at one of his bed posts as another convulsion coursed through his body. The pain that accompanied it was even more intense than the previous time.

He could barely move as the pain seemed to burn throughout his body. In a desperate attempt for salvation, he reached out his hand in hopes someone or thing would show him mercy and save him all the while wondering what he had done to deserve such a fate…

=========================================================

Notes: A couple of different things here.

1) Danny's thoughts and feelings being affected by the room is not as farfetched as some people might think. Prolonged periods in a purely white room can cause aspects of sensory deprivation (a disconnect with ones senses). Some people use sensory deprivation for reflection or meditation without negative effects, but it has been known to drive people insane. Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia has several examples of this in its history.

2)The statistics of finding a child alive 24 hours after abduction is horrifying nonexistent. While it is true that sometimes a captor will keep the abducted child alive for years, cases like that are so rare that if the police can't find sign of the child within a day, they know they will most likely not find the child alive.

3) Antifreeze does usually have a sweet odor (unless bittering agents have been added as a deterrent), and sadly, ectoplasm sometimes reminds me of it.

4)Do you recognize the last few sentences of this chapter? You should. They're a more stylized version of the opening I have in the 1st chapter.

[whereisstevethestove]

Boys Who Cry Pearl and Sea: Flying Dutchman AU

Fandoms: Sanders sides and technically the lore behind the Flying Dutchman.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remus

Relationships:  Roman/Virgil

Additional tags: Mer AU, Pirate AU, Human AU, Siren!Roman, Sailor!Virgil

Word count: 3263

Summary:  Virgil Tempesta was born at sea.  Perhaps that is why he has never felt like he belonged on land.

Notes: I wrote a sea shanty for this! (x)  I hope you enjoy!

AO3

Virgil Tempesta was born at sea.

His English mother was traveling from her home in London to join her merchant husband in Cuba, but by the time that she arrived, her son was nearly a month old, and strange, with storm grey eyes that seldom blinked.  He grew up mostly indoors, there not really being any other children his age that his family would let him socialize with.

Virgil himself was an odd child, quiet, and when he turned ten, his father sent him to another sea captain for an apprenticeship.

The Windborne was a young ship, not even five years old, and the captain was quick to shove the pale boy belowdecks, for a child has no place among a crew of men.  Virgil spent his first year feeling like an outcast, a stowaway on a ship he was technically part of.  

That was of course until they found out that Virgil could squeeze himself into small spaces, and climb faster than anyone else on ship.  He also seemed to need less sleep, so they started to put him on the night watch as months passed.

Virgil didn’t mind.  At least it gave him an excuse to hum the shanties that the others sang as he stared at the dark water that was reflected with stars.

He was fifteen when something interesting finally happened during one of his watches.

“There was a boy, Icarus~”   The haunting melody stretched over the water in the secluded cove that they were anchored in and Virgil leaned a bit more over the side of the ship as he strained to hear the song.

“You pronounced Icarus wrong.”  Virgil called out and the song stopped.

“How do you pronounce it then?”

Virgil pursed his lips before answering.  “It’s not I-Car-Us, it’s all one beat, kinda like: ǐːkaros.”

“Oh.”  The voice seemed confused.  “There was a boy, Icarus, who flew too close to the sun-”

“That’s better.”  Virgil smirked as the voice sputtered in annoyance.

“His wings were made of brass and wax-”

Virgil listened as the voice sang about the greek myth, before abruptly hopping topics to sing about a sailor’s myth, the Dutchman.  Virgil wasn’t one to believe in silly legends, but the voice was nice and it made him feel lightheaded in a good way, so he continued to listen as the second chorus faded out and the voice switched verses again.

“There is a simple sailor boy,

Not wanted by land nor sky-”

Virgil stood up from his spot and looked over the water.  “Woah, wait.”

“What?”  The voice was definitely irritated now.

“Simple?  That’s all you can think of to describe me?”  Virgil teased as some of his hair fell into his face.

“Uh... to be honest, I thought you’d be drowned by now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, the shanty only has two verses, I’ve been making the rest up.”  The voice said sheepishly and Virgil heard a splash of something going into water.   He watched as the dark water below rippled and a moment later, a red and gold blur shot out and landed on the deck next to him.

Virgil fell back onto his ass in shock.  “Mermaid.”

The creature flashed him a grin.  “Close, I’m a siren and I am a male by your kind’s definition., so not a mer-maid either way.”

Virgil took in the red and gold tail, the dark skin as he slowly looked the siren in the eyes.

“You’re gorgeous.”  He breathed out reverently and the siren’s fins on the side of it’s head flared in surprise.

“You are very pale and small.”  He responded back, which broke Virgil from his reprise as he scrambled back up to his feet.

“Thanks, I get that a lot.”  

“Oh.  I thought for sure you’d be taller standing.  Hmm, okay.”  The siren balanced himself on the railing better, looking at Virgil with curious eyes.

Virgil blushed, ducked his head and then looked back up.  “So, how am I not dead?”

“Excellent question.  I have no fucking idea.”  The siren shrugged and Virgil nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Can I get your name pale one?”  The siren asked as he leaned forward and Virgil leaned back.  

“Me giving you my name doesn’t do any weird shit- like I sell my soul to you, right?”

“No, why would it do that?  Is that some weird human thing no one told me about?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “It’s a fae thing, I thought that since sirens are real, maybe they were.  Anyway, I’m Virgil.”

The siren’s eyes widened.  “You have a siren name.”

“Okayyy?”

“I’m Roman.”

“That’s an odd name.”

“Says the one who literally didn't know that my kind existed, despite having a siren name.”  Roman shot back with a sharp grin.

Virgil smirked and gently shoved at the siren, who wobbled nervously.

“You should go.”

“Why?” “My watch is almost over.  I want to go to sleep.”  Virgil yawned and the siren shrugged.

“Alright.  I’ll get you one of these times.”  Roman said as he fell back, disappearing into the water.

…

Virgil didn’t see him for another year.  The Windborne traveled to many different locations and so it was rare for them to pass through the siren’s waters, and when they did, they didn’t stay the night.

So he wasn’t surprised when the song started across the water.

“I’ll sing you a song of ravens and stone--”   Roman’s voice definitely had some bite to it and Virgil could feel himself slipping as he struggled to keep his mind clear.

“With the temper of a storm!”

Virgil jumped into the water, fully intending on beating up Roman for being so fucking annoying.

What he wasn’t expecting was for arms to wrap around him and start dragging him down.

Virgil tried to elbow the person, mer(?)  behind him, but the singing just intensified and his head felt like it was full of cotton….

…

…

…

Roman couldn’t believe that Andy had managed to snag Virgil the second the teen had jumped in.

His half brother was a force to be reckoned with though, and Roman watched as the lithe siren dragged the sailor out of the water and tested for a pulse.

“Aw, he’s still alive.”

“I asked for him to still be alive An.”  Roman muttered as he looked at his human.

“I don’t know why you’re attracted to him.  He’s awfully pale.  And when there’s so many other options up there on that ship..”  Andy trailed off once he saw the look in Roman’s eyes.  “Oh, you see the pale on as a mate?  You’re a mess, sing once you get your life together Ro.”

With that, he left with a snap of a jet black tail slapping water.  

…

Virgil sat straight up and vomited,  coughing as seawater exited his lungs and he shivered on the rock that he was somehow on.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil threw up again and shook his head as someone gathered him up, pressing a hand against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I got worried because you stopped breathing.”

Virgil’s mind had cleared enough for him to look up through lidded eyes to see Roman looking at him with concern.

“What?”  Virgil croaked out, voice absolutely ruined by the seawater that he had ingested.

“Uh, you jumped overboard, my half sibling brought you here and then I pulled the life back into you.”

Virgil vaguely remembered jumping over, but after that…

He passed out again.

…

Roman was not expecting humans to be so fragile.   Virgil had indeed become unresponsive after throwing up, but now he was asleep again, with no warning at all.

At least the sun was coming up, so it would be a bit warmer.  

He just had to hope that Virgil’s ship wasn’t leaving, or else Roman wasn’t sure what he’d do.  This was supposed to be a fun interaction, not him watching an almost corpse.

Unfortunately for him, the sun rose, The Windborne left the cove, and Virgil slept.

Roman wasn’t sure how he was going to admit to his human that his only way back home was gone.

…

Turns out, Virgil was fucked.

He woke up and realized almost immediately that his ship had left and the first thing he did was try to sneak off the rock that Roman had stuck him on, so that he could swim to the shore and try to work out his life then.

He didn’t notice that Roman was on the rock also, until the siren grabbed his shoulder.

“Where are you going, the ship is gone.”

Virgil hissed and recoiled, falling into the water before surfacing to curse at Roman.  “What the fuck?”

“Sorry!  I assumed that humans could hear when someone is coming up on them!”

Virgil hissed again and scrambled back onto the rock.  “I wasn’t paying attention, and yes I know that the ship is gone, it’ll be another few months before they anchor back here.”

“A few months?”

“Yep.  We had planned a few routes over the next year that come this way…  I just have to wait out the storm, and I’m not doing it on this tiny ass rock.”  Virgil went to slip into the water when Roman stopped him again.

“Let me swim you over, it’ll be faster.”

“Thanks I guess.”

Virgil watched as Roman slipped into the water and then swam around the rock to wink at him.

“Ready my raven?”

“Oh, stars no.  No pet names.”  Virgil grumbled as he got in and wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck as directed.

“Ready?”

“You won’t drown me, right?”

“Of course not!”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Roman swam slowly, but still, it was faster than Virgil could’ve gone, so it was nice to hitch a ride in a sense as they made their way to the beach.

They finally made it to where Virgil’s feet could touch, and he quickly let go, wading through the water to collapse on wet sand.

“Are you okay?”  Roman called from his spot in the water and Virgil stuck his head up.

“Oh yeah.  I’ve been kidnapped by a siren, threw up my body weight in saltwater, haven’t eaten since almost two days ago, and now I’m here for a good long time, all alone!  Don’t forget that if I don’t get some actual water soon, I’ll be a rotting corpse on this beach!”

Roman was by his side faster than Virgil could comprehend, eyes flashing nervously.  “Water?”

“What about it?”

“You can’t drink seawater?”

Virgil groaned and buried his face in his hands.

This was going to be a long three months.

Assuming he could survive for that long.

…

The first week was the worst.  Roman had to watch as Virgil disappeared into the treeline, leaving for long hours, even though he had offered to provide for any of the sailor’s needs, after all, it was his fault that Virgil was stuck.

All the human had asked for was a knife though.

He built an odd structure on the shore, and Roman watched as he (unsuccessfully) fished, and got sick from being in the sun for too long the second day.

By day eight, Virgil was screaming at the sky to just hit him with some lightning.

Roman was impressed that his human had even made it that long.

By night nine, he finally had the courage to go back on shore.  Virgil was laying on the ground, staring at the stars, seemingly distracted, but his eyes did flit over to Roman as the siren adjusted his tail and also lay back.

“Are you okay?”

“No.  I miss people.”

“Ah.”

They lay there in silence, and it wasn’t until Roman looked over and he saw the streaks of silver running down the other’s face that he realized something was wrong.  He sat up and scooted closer to Virgil, gently wiping at the strange stuff.

“What is this?”

Virgil blankly looked at him, still not moving.  “Tears.”

Roman brought the ‘tears’ to his face.  “Weird.  They look… wrong.”

Virgil sniffed and sat up, wiping at his face with a torn sleeve.  “Why is that fish?”

Roman looked at the ‘tear’ again.  “It is a liquid.”

“Are you implying that tears aren’t made of saltwater?”  

Roman sniffed the tear and realized that Virgil was right.  It smelt like ocean. 

“You cry the sea when you are sad?”

“I guess.”  Virgil sniffed again and Roman sighed before putting a finger to the corner of his own eye, quietly shedding a pearl as he cried.

“I do too.  Perhaps we are not as different as we like to say.”

…

The dynamic changed after that.  Roman started to bring fish, which was a godsend in Virgil’s opinion, and in exchange, he’d tell the siren about something from his world, or he’d teach him a new shanty to sing.

And as much as he denied it, Virgil fell in love.

It wasn’t a major revelation in a sense.  It was about a month into his stay and he looked up and remembered that it was his birthday.

Hurray, seventeen years on this earth.  He hadn’t told the siren, who didn’t understand the concept of age, and even though Roman certainly acted like he was Virgil’s age, he had told him once about the first time his pod had moved, and it was because the first merchants were sailing into the area.

So yeah, his siren, wait, when did he start considering Roman as his siren?  Virgil shook his head, trying to clear it of the traitorous thoughts as Roman came in with the gentle waves, grinning.

“Hello my stormy night!”

“No nicknames!”

…

Roman was in love.

Deepy, irrevocably, in love.

He was screwed.

Sirens only choose one mate, and it is always the first one that you fall in love with.  No take back, so changing in the future.

The only problem was that he knew that Virgil didn’t love him back.

The different specie? Not a problem, many sirens fell in love with humans, and they could change their mate to be like them with a simple draw of blood.  The fact that Roman was immortal and Virgil wasn’t.  Fixed when turned into a siren.

Literally everything had a solution.

Except when your love didn’t feel the same way.

They were both on a rock one night, Roman and helped Virgil swim out, although the young sailor was surprisingly good, despite most at the time who couldn’t swim, and Roman had been caught up in the way that the moonlight framed Virgil’s face to notice that the human was addressing him.

“RO.”

“Oh sorry, what?”

Virgil laughed before suddenly looking serious.  “The ship will be arriving any day now.”

Roman deflated and looked away.  “I know.”

“I have to leave.”

“I understand.”

“Part of me doesn’t want to, you know?  Stay here for the rest of my short and pathetic life… but I don’t want to watch you watch me die..”  Virgil trailed off and Roman saw that he was crying again, oddly reminiscent of their first night like this.

“What if you didn’t have to die?”

Virgil looked at him sadly.  “I’m not like you Roman.”

Roman gulped.  “I know, but you can be.  There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“You’d have to be my mate.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his face as he ducked his head to hide behind his longer hair.  “Oh?”

Roman nodded.  “I know, it’s something that we take very seriously and I understand that you wouldn’t want to do it and--”

“No, I want to.  Maybe not now, but in a few years?  Yeah, it sounds amazing.  All of it.  Being with you… mates.”

Roman blinked at Virgil.  “Really?”

“Really.”

Roman surged forward and kissed Virgil, wrapping his arms around the human’s waist, sparks flashing across his vision as Virgil kissed him back, all passion and quiet love.

It was his first kiss and Roman could feel it clear as day that the human was meant to be his.

When they pulled away, with Virgil gasping for air and Roman trailing kisses along his mate to be’s jaw, nipping at the skin.

“Seas below, I love you.”  Roman whispered as he pulled away, looking into Virgil’s dark eyes.

“I love you too.”  Virgil kissed him again and this time they didn’t break away for quite some time.

…

Virgil stands at the edge of the ocean.

The Windborne came into the cove about a week after he and Roman had claimed each other, the siren later marking him with a bite that scarred silver against the still pale skin.

Hell, Virgil really wished he could get tan.

Roman had also given him a gold coin, one that he was supposed to give away when he was ready to return, and then they would be ready.

Roman had promised to come back for him.

When Virgil boards the ship later, they’re overjoyed to see him alive.  When they anchor for the night, he collapses in the barracks below decks, grateful to be sleeping in an actual hammock, rather than on sand or on stones.

When they sail out of the cove the next day, only he can hear the song that Roman sings in mourning of his mate.

Only he wants to jump back.

…

Years pass, three to be exact, before they sail by that cove again.  Virgil meets Remus, a younger sailor that he teaches everything, despite sometimes wishing that the younger would just shut up and give him a peace of mind.

Remus is bold though, and he believes in mer.  Virgil tells him about Roman, one day when they’re both in the crow’s nest and he doesn’t think that he sees anyone look so excited.

Of course, that is before he hears the song as they are sailing by, not stopping as night falls.

“I’ll sing you a song of ravens and stone--

With the temper of a storm!

With those who sail the waters deep,

Calling the entire sea their home!”

Virgil doesn’t realize that Remus is allured by the song until he snaps out of his funk and drags them both below decks, defying his heart.

He gets sick.

Remus nurses him back to health.

A month later, he insists on being alone for night watch, and luckily they are anchored just outside the cove.

Roman still has that wild smirk and he still kisses with a passion that makes Virgil dizzy as his mate cuts their palms and presses them together, mixing human and siren blood.

Transformation doesn’t hurt.

Virgil lets Roman pull them both overboard and the first time he breathes in saltwater properly, he cries, his tears still made of sea.

“You haven’t changed a bit my love.”

Virgil laughs, his voice carrying the unrestrained power of a new siren.  “Oh darling, but I have.”

His song is wild, just like a storm on the sea, free.  It melds with Roman’s perfectly as the two harmonize, voices weaving sea shanties and siren lullabies as easily as a fisherman mends a net.

Virgil wonders if Remus can still hear a siren’s song.  He may regret leaving the young boy behind, but he can take care of himself, after all, Virgil did as well.

…

Virgil Tempesta was born at sea.

Maybe that’s why he never felt comfortable in his own skin, why he was quiet for a child, taking in everything he saw.  Maybe it was the siren name that his mother gave him, for she believed in the beautiful creatures that dripped with song.  

Perhaps it was like in Roman’s shanty:

Not wanted by land nor sky...

[umbry-fic]

Cobalt Memories

Summary: Colette, as Chosen, has never been allowed to play in the rain. Until now.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Frank Brunel, Noishe Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel & Frank Brunel Rating: G Word Count: 3372 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 25/06/2021

Notes: A fluffy gen fic involving the Noishe raincoat! Title from Harumaki Gohan's Cobalt Memories.

~~~

The first time Colette saw Lloyd, it was in the rain.

She was at home on that fateful day, as she always was on stormy days. Sitting by the window, listening to raindrops patter against it, she pressed her nose to the cold glass and watched the other children that were her age run around outside. She longed to join them, to know what it felt like to catch raindrops against her skin, to let water drip from her drenched fringe into her eyes, to laugh and dance despite the grey and dreary clouds and the cold that permeated even through the window, racking her with the occasional shiver.

But that was forbidden, for the Chosen wasn't to participate in such pointless merriment. "And what if you caught a cold?" was what the priests had used to dissuade her. "We cannot allow any harm to come to you, Chosen. Trust us, this is for your own good." And that marked the conclusion of that conversation. There was little point trying to resist, she knew, for it would all be futile in the end.

As for her father and grandmother, they were powerless to do anything, unable to defy the absolute authority of the Church. No one could stand up against the Church. Colette didn't want to consider whether or not her family wanted to help her, preferring to let that doubt sink into the back of her mind. Whenever they caught the pleading gaze she would turn on them once lightning began to split the sky in two, all they did was turn away, leaving her to drift towards her usual perch by the window. There she would watch with barely concealed envy, for that was all she was allowed to do. And so it was the case again today. She'd been here for the past ten minutes until her neck ached from craning it so much.

She supposed her mood very much matched the weather.

It was at that moment that a hulking dog with a strange green colouration that she'd never seen before burst out from the forest, causing all the children to scatter like leaves in the wind. They all stared at this new intruder with wide eyes, all chatter ceasing immediately. Following behind the dog was a boy with brown hair, struggling to keep up with his tiny stature and short legs. The dog and the boy began to run circles around each other in the mud, splattering it everywhere, the boy seemingly uncaring of the dog’s imposing size. Even as the dog's fur got more drenched, even as the boy's shorts got more dirtied with mud, rambunctious barks and laughter filled the air, the two looking like they were having the time of their lives. The other children were maintaining their distance, likely out of fear, but Colette only pressed closer to the window, splaying her fingers on it. It was at this moment more than any other that she prayed for the glass to magically disappear so that she could fall through, desiring to join the two and learn what it was like to be free.

She also really wanted to pet that dog!

The boy paused in his frantic motions, seemingly having caught sight of her, for he was staring right at her. How strange she must look, a girl in pure white robes undirtied by the rain, separated from all the rest of the children by a thick layer of glass. Almost like she was in an alternate world, one that couldn’t be touched by others. Most of the children understood that she was different, even if they didn't understand why. The boy must think her a weirdo too.

But instead of turning away and returning to his fun, the boy waved, a smile lighting up his face as he ran up to the window. He wasn't quite tall enough to reach it from the ground, so all he could do was jump up and down, his finger barely brushing the bottom of the window every time he reached the peak of his leap. Was he trying to put his hand on the window such that it was aligned with her palm on the other side? If so, he wasn't gaining enough height.

She moved her hand so that it was pressed flush against the windowsill, giggling as the boy outside laughed too. She knew they weren't actually touching and that it was unlikely for his warmth to be able to reach her through the glass, but she could still feel a phantom presence against her palm.

A particularly loud bark drew both of their attention. The dog ran up to the boy, tail wagging intensely. Up close, the dog appeared to be even fluffier than she’d thought, only intensifying her desire to bury her hands in its fur, maybe even her face. That would be heavenly. The dog barked again, inclining its head in the direction of the forest. The boy gave the dog a quick ruffle on the head before turning back to face her, a small frown on his face as he mouthed “I need to go”.

And in an instant, he and the dog had taken off and disappeared back into the forest. If not for the muddy footprints and pawprints littering the ground, and the tiny mark against the outside of her window, she might have thought she’d imagined the whole thing. But she hadn’t. All of it had happened.

She hadn't learned anything about the boy, of who he was - his name, his age, where he lived. She wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again. It was but an interaction with a stranger, a brief one that had ended and left her alone again. But what a kind stranger he was, actually bothering to come and cheer up a lonely girl he didn’t know. For he had left her with a smile on her face.

She would soon formally meet Lloyd at school, an insane event in-and-of-itself, whereafter he would become her first-ever friend, bringing with it the opportunity to meet Noishe and give him lots of pets. Genis would enter her life not much later, leaving her with two companions that expanded her world and brought so much joy with them. But she would always hold this memory dear, of a rainy day that was her true first meeting with Lloyd, where he’d shown her kindness that touched her heart. It was the kindness that he always extended to her, no matter what, for he was an inherently kind person.

It was the first rainy day she could recall where she had not been miserable, reminded of everything she couldn’t have, but rather smiling and laughing. The first of many.

~~~

Lloyd stopped playing in the rain once he learned she wasn't allowed to. He was adamantly against the restrictions placed on her, but learned rather quickly that all his protesting wouldn’t get anywhere. So he opted to stay indoors with her whenever it did rain, wanting to keep her company.

He claimed that getting drenched in the rain wasn’t all that fun and that he didn’t miss it, but she’d caught him looking out the window with a wistful expression more than once. She felt horrible for denying her friend something he clearly enjoyed, but he refused to budge whenever she told him that she’d be fine alone, even if just for a day. And, truth be told, his company helped immensely, for she could focus on his presence, instead of dwelling on what she was missing out on, her sky finally clear of storm clouds that blocked out the sun.

Most of the time, at least.

There were still moments when the longing hit her, when she looked at the raindrops running down the windowpane and desperately wished to be outside. Even Genis, the boy who seemed to hate admitting he was a child, had run around in the rain before. He had, of course, gotten the scolding of his life from Professor Raine once he’d gotten back in the schoolhouse, but watching the loving way Professor Raine had towelled Genis down, wringing water from his silver locks, filled Colette’s heart with stinging pain.

Today was yet another rainy day. Colette sat at the table, swinging her legs and waiting for a knock on the door. Lloyd had promised, earlier in the morning, to meet up with her in the afternoon, and he never broke his promises. Though the weather meant he was going to turn up at her doorstep with his hair falling into his eyes and his clothes dripping water - he never remembered to bring an umbrella with him when he left his home. They would likely need to wait a whole hour for him to dry out before they could do anything, but she didn’t mind. A quiet afternoon spent with Lloyd was just as enjoyable as one where they messed around.

Where was her father, though? Her grandmother wasn’t home right now, stuck at the Church because of the downpour, but her father wasn’t in the living room with a cup of coffee like he usually was at this time of day. Maybe he was working on that sewing project he’d been labouring over for the past week. She’d caught him bent over in his room in the dead of night, sewing needle held in hand, the room lit only by the flickering flame of a single candle. She doubted that her father knew that she’d peeked in on him from the doorway, for she was used to wandering around the house like a ghost on nights where she couldn’t sleep. She was an expert at making no noise, and hadn’t been caught once.

She didn’t know what her father was working on. He’d told her before that he’d learned how to sew from her mother, but he’d never put that skill to use. Not to her knowledge, anyway. Perhaps because it hurt too much, to do something that had once been a beloved hobby shared by two people who loved each other, but could no longer be together? In the same way that having fun with her friends stabbed at her heart, just a tiny bit, as she held the knowledge that it would all have to come to an end. Even then, she’d promised to herself that she would enjoy every bit she could grasp to its fullest.

She was curious as to what had reignited that passion, what was so important that he had to pull out the dusty sewing kit again, but she wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t her place to pry.

Colette sighed, slumping over on the table. Lloyd was running a little late...

“Here.”

A familiar voice broke through the oppressing silence, Colette squeaking in alarm as something fuzzy and soft was thrown over her head, submerging her in darkness. She scrambled to get a grip on what she assumed was a blanket, pulling it off her head and holding it in her arms.

Now that she could see again, she spotted her father standing over her, arms crossed with a smile on his face. How had he snuck up on her?

“Father? What?” she sputtered in confusion. This was not expected behaviour. In fact, this was the furthest thing from expected behaviour. Her father had been nothing but kind and loving to her, but always with a sense of detachment, like he wasn’t really seeing her when he looked at her. She didn’t blame him for any of it, but it hurt, to realise the distance between them. “This is…”

She looked down and got a closer look, realising that what she was holding wasn’t a blanket. It looked like some sort of strange green top with long sleeves...? But it was far too long to be a top! If she put it on, it would reach the middle of her thighs! Turning it over revealed there was a tail poking out from the back, along with a hood attached. Stuck to the top of the hood were two beady blue eyes, a nose, and a familiar pair of ears with grooves that she couldn’t help but run her finger over.

It was absolutely adorable!

“It’s a raincoat. Something you wear to protect yourself from the rain. Your mother was making it for you before she… left. Why a raincoat, and why make it green, I’ll never know,” her father explained, placing a hand on her head. “Though I’ll never claim to understand Arielle,” her father muttered, looking away with a far-away expression.

“This was from Mother…?” she whispered in disbelief, rubbing at the material with her thumbs.

She didn’t have anything from her mother. The entire house seemed to be devoid of any of her mother’s belongings, perhaps because the reminder hurt her father too much. She couldn’t blame anyone for that, not really, even if she would have liked to have something, anything, to show her what her mother was like.

“I just put the finishing touches on it and added the accessories. After all, you love Noishe so much. I know I’m nowhere near as good as your mother, but… I thought you might like it.”

Colette could see that the majority of the seams were more masterfully done than the rest, the minority a little wobbly and less confident. One of the ears was crooked, and perhaps the eyes weren’t aligned on the same line.

It wasn’t perfectly made, nowhere near it, but she could feel the love poured into every inch from both of her parents, seeming to spill out of the fabric and into her heart.

“I… I do! Thank you so much, Father!” she exclaimed, hands shaking. She had never expected to receive a present that was from both her mother and her father. This was the best surprise ever! “C - can I put it on?”

“Stand up; I’ll help you,” her father offered. “Otherwise, knowing you, you’re probably going to get lost in the fabric.”

Colette did as her father told her to, standing up and raising her arms. Her father brought the raincoat down around her head, and she shimmied until her head popped out the top and her hands came out of the long sleeves. As she’d predicted, the raincoat covered her all the way down to her thighs.

She flipped the hood up, her hair spilling out of the opening, marvelling at how snugly it fit. And it was warm, too…

“I’m glad it fits. Now, why don’t you play out in the rain with Lloyd today?”

“But I thought I’m not allowed to!” Colette retorted, hardly able to believe her ears. Could this day get any better?

“You didn’t have a raincoat before,” her father replied, something of a mischievous shine to his eyes that Colette had never seen before. Whenever she looked at her father, he always seemed sad, his eyes dull. Grieving the woman he loved who’d died in childbirth, and having to take care of a child who was doomed to die anyway. Was this who he’d been before tragedy had struck, the man who her mother had fallen in love with? “If you’re protected from the rain, I don’t see why not.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer like he was about to whisper a secret into her ear, his lips lifting into a cheeky smile. “Besides, this can stay between us.”

Colette threw her arms around her father, thanking him profusely and trying her very best not to start sobbing. She didn’t want to wet her father’s shirt, and neither did she want to meet Lloyd with red eyes and a running nose. Her father patted her on the head between the Noishe ears, chuckling.

Knock. Knock.

“Oh! Lloyd! He’s here!” Colette perked up, racing over to the door and throwing it open. She couldn’t wait to tell him the good news!

Lloyd was standing on the porch, back facing her and dragging his feet across the wooden boards as he waited for her. Turning, he grinned, waving, his appearance fitting the one in her imagination exactly. “Hi, Col -”

That was when Lloyd choked, face flushing an incredible shade of red.

“Uh, Lloyd?” Colette asked hesitantly, pausing with one foot on the porch. She clasped her hands before her chest. “Is something… wrong?”

“No!” was what burst out of Lloyd’s mouth, five times louder than his previous, unfinished sentence, and loud enough to make her flinch back slightly. “Wait, sorry for yelling! Wait, I’m still yelling!” Lloyd groaned, shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all! Just... Um, nice new raincoat!”

“I love it!” she replied, spinning in a circle and giggling.

“Yeah, so do I. It’s… really cute… Is it supposed to be based on Noishe?”

“Yep! I’m glad you like it too!”

Lloyd laughed nervously, cheeks still containing a remnant of red. “Should we head in now?”

“Oh! Father permitted me to play in the rain! So can we do that instead?” Colette asked eagerly.

“Really?” Lloyd perked up too, eyes shining with excitement, nervousness forgotten instantly. “I’d love to do that with you!”

“But, uh…” Colette bowed her head, uncertain. “I’m not really sure what to do…”

“There’s no right way to do it! You just… Go! That’s what makes it fun!” Lloyd proclaimed, poking her right where the Noishe nose was and causing her to raise her head to meet his gaze again, eagerness and kindness there in equal measure that helped to melt away her doubts.

Lloyd took her hand, tugging her out of the shelter of the porch and into the ferocity of the storm - or rather, the gentleness of a drizzle, for the raindrops pelting against her bare hand were far gentler than she could have thought. It was almost ticklish, like when Lloyd’s fingers brushed her wrist.

She stumbled into a puddle, giggling at the splash of water and staring down at her reflection: her own happy face framed by her golden hair and the adorable Noishe face. She angled her face up, letting the raindrops fall against her skin and trickle down into her waiting tongue. They didn't particularly taste like anything, but they sure were cold!

She looked back at Lloyd to find him grinning, his already drenched self getting even more drenched with the rain falling on him, creating a halo above him.

He stretched out a hand to her and beckoned, a familiar smile on his face. The smile that was always able to make everything better, to chase away any amount of despair she might be trapped in.

“Come on!”

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in months, and ran over to join him, ready to create another cherished memory - a first that she hoped would not be her last.

~~~

Frank sipped from his cup of coffee, watching from the window with a smile. Lloyd had started the chain of activities by jumping from puddle to puddle, Colette following behind and occasionally losing her balance, though Lloyd was always there to steady her. They were still going, having gone on to spin each other around in some crazy approximation of dancing, their laughter ringing through the air.

He watched as Colette tripped and fell into Lloyd, sending them both toppling into the mud like dominoes. Even with mud staining their faces and their clothes, they were both grinning, the smile on his daughter’s face more radiant than it had been in years.

There would be an incredible mess that he would have to clean up later, likely involving tubs of hot water, towels, and hours of scrubbing with the brush. Colette might even still catch a cold from being exposed to the elements. But Frank would keep his promise and hide the fact that this ever happened from the priests. Besides, an omission of information wasn’t a lie.

And the effort would all be worth it - the sleepless nights, all the times he'd pricked his finger on the needle because of how rusty he was - just to let his daughter have the experience of being a child, just to see her smiling and laughing with her best friend in the whole wide world.