#it’s just strange to me that they’d show this and frame it like they did if kairi was his love interest

[sorikufeels]

thinking about how they went out of their way to show kairi being put to sleep to search her heart for answers to find sora and that ending in a complete dead end and then had riku’s dreams be the key to finding him. if kairi was truly sora’s love interest, then why wouldn’t they make her the key to find him? like i don’t see a reason not to do that. and they didn’t have to show her going through all the effort to find him and come up completely empty either. they didn’t have to do that all. it really feels like they’re trying to deliberately say something about who is actually sora’s love interest

edit: someone pointed out that kairi did find a clue in melody of memory and i forgot, sorry about that!

but i think my point still stands about riku’s dreams being the key since it’s through them that nameless star recognizes quadratum. it still points him out more as the love interest because a common trope is having a character brave the unknown and face trials to save the person they love. if kairi was sora’s love interest, it would more sense to have her go find him or at least go with riku, if they really want insist she’s too inexperienced (which they didn’t have to, it felt like they were grasping for any excuse to not let her go, which sucks!!) to go by herself. but she gets left behind and that in itself says a lot, in my opinion.

it was incorrect to say that it was a complete dead end and she came up totally empty, though, and I apologize for that!! i don’t want to belittle kairi anymore than the games already do 😭

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the Crewel event, how about Ortho taking his Cerberus robot puppies to NRC and showing them to Crewel?

If he doesn't scare you, no evil thing will.

“You keep dogs as companion animals, Crewel-sensei? My family has dogs too!”

Upon learning that, Crewel’s interest had been piqued. The spike in heart rate, the dilation of his pupils—there was no mistaking it. Every one of Ortho’s vital sign readings had indicated the same excited response.

And that was why, on exactly 7 on the dot Monday morning, he barreled into Crewel’s classroom with a cheery shout.

Ortho’s face was framed in a helmet with pointed ears, only his mouth and its jagged teeth visible. He had traded his College Gear for a more spindly form with pointed shoulders and nails. The boy was every bit as sleek as a bloodhound on the hunt.

Ortho was followed by two cybernetic canines, each wearing a spoked collar. The dogs were as black as night, their numerous markings lighting up in neon blue as they prowled, sniffing out their surroundings. They curiously circled Crewel’s desk, noses to the ground.

He arched a brow, but did not protest. “These are…”

"Meet CB-RS01 and CB-RS02!" Ortho chirped, lowering his altitude to meet Crewel in the eyes. “I guess they’d be something like our family’s ‘guard dogs’!”

“Shroud, you brought your pets on campus?”

“I thought you’d be interested in meeting them.”

His teacher’s expression darkened. “… Where.”

Ortho inclined his head in confusion. “Where…?”

“Where do they like to be pet?” Crewel asked with grave seriousness.

“Oh, I’ve never thought of that. They have sensors all over their bodies for surveillance, tracking, combat, and data collection. Among the multitude of functions CB-RS01 and 02 can perform, I don’t think cuddling is one.”

“Nonsense!” Crewel haughtily insisted. “All animals are deserving of affection.”

“Hmm…” Ortho hesitated. “Well, it should be find to touch them on the head. They won’t be aggressive if you show them you mean no harm.”

“So it shall be.” Crewel extended a hand to the robotic dogs, coaxing them with curled fingers. “Come here.”

CB-RS01 and 02 stood at attention at the unfamiliar call, both cautiously surveying the strange man before them. 02 emitted a hum that sounded like a growl. 01 took the initiative to step forward and sniffed Crewel’s open palm.

“Do you smell the treats on me? I fed them to my own boys back home before coming to work today. I would offer you treats if I had them—and if you take them.” He slowly placed his hand on 01’s head. Both dogs tensed. “For now, this is all I can grant you.”

Crewel gave 01 a good stroke. It was warm metal, slick and paved with complex ridges. 01 planted its bottom on the floor, letting out a low sound akin to a satisfied grunt. Its tail happily bounced up and down.

02 padded up. It watched Crewel for a few moments more until it gently butted against his arm, almost as if demanding a pat too. He laughed, using his other hand.

Pretty soon, both dogs were cozied up to him.

“There, there,” Crewel crooned, sweet and smooth as honey. “You’re good boys, aren’t you? Yes you are. Very good boys indeed!”

“Wah, Crewel-sensei!” Ortho gasped. “You instantly tamed them…! You’re a natural.”

“Nothing to it. You just have to open your heart to them and the animals will respond to that.”

“I see, so that’s how it works…? Either way, this is fascinating data. I’ll have to log it and report on this new behavior.“

A blue holographic screen blipped into existence. Ortho set to punching in numbers and symbols, all business. When he glanced up from the edge of his screen, the shutters on his eyes—eyelids, humans would call them—fluttered, snapping several shots of Crewel doting on the dogs.

The images were processed and immediately stored in his memory banks, labelled with the correct tags. Divus Crewel, CB-RS01 and 02, and their unadulterated joy. A love that pure…

Ortho’s core shuddered and sighed.

… is capable of changing the world.

[pinkplaidmoonshine]

(Ballister doesn’t get framed AU. Needed to write this for mental health purposes. A little suggestive nsfw-ish and nightmares under the cut.)

“Let a new era of heroes begin with you.”

Ballister bowed his head again as the sword was slipped back into his hands. He put it back in its sheath where it belonged. Ballister smiled and nodded to the Queen as he stood. He went to stand in his spot beside Ambrosius. For a moment, he wanted to kiss his boyfriend in front of the whole kingdom, but held himself back. That felt like the kind of grand gesture that should be talked about beforehand. He felt something touch his hand and glanced down to see Ambrosius gently weaving their fingers together. For a moment he thought he might cry at such a simple action during a huge event where anyone and everyone could see. A descendant of Gloreth holding the hand of a commoner… no, he was holding the hand of a knight.

“I told you they’d love you,” Ambrosius whispered.

They smiled at each other for a moment before turning back to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony. Their hands staid linked until the very end.

Laughter rang out as Ambrosius tackled him to the bed. He was already nipping at Ballister’s throat and pulling at his shirt.

“Darling! Darling, wait—“

“But I want to make love to the sexiest hero of the realm!” His lover pouted.

“The honor is all mine, trust me,” Ballister said through his laughter. “But there’s something I need to do first.”

Ambrosius got up and sat on his knees, waiting patiently for whatever Ballister was going to do.

“It isn’t much,” Ballister said, taking something from his bedside drawer. He sat up, gripping something in his hand. “But I made them for us using metal from some of our old armor.”

He opened his fist and showed him two rings. One was black with a band of gold running through the middle, the other gold with black.

“Bal?” Ambrosius’ voice was shaking.

“Will you marry me?” Ballister asked, looking up at him with hopeful brown eyes.

Ambrosius kissed him and tackled him to the bed again.

“Was that a yes?”

“Yes! Of course it’s a yes!” Ambrosius said through the strange mixture of tears and laughter.

They wiped the happy tears away and put the rings on each other. This was followed by even more happy tears and sweet kisses that lead to… well…

~*~

Ballister was still shaking and sweaty in Ambrosius’s arms. His breath was slowing down from the swift, short panting that had echoed each thrust from his lover.

“I love you,” was whispered in his ear.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back.

~*~

Ballister woke up gasping for breath. His body involuntarily gave a violent jerk waking up Ambrosius, too.

“Bal? Bal, are you okay?”

He loosened his grip and ran a soothing hand over Ballister’s right arm, the dark skin warm under his fingers.

Ballister nodded, a little shaky. He wasn’t a stranger to nightmares, but this one felt different. It was like he could truly feel the pain of having an arm severed from his body. He raised his right hand to his face and opened and closed it in front of his eyes, trying to convince himself it was still flesh and bone.

Ambrosius nuzzled the side of his neck and kissed just behind his ear in an effort to soothe his new fiancé.

“It wasn’t real,” Ambrosius whispered against his neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe with me.”

Yes. He was safe with Ambrosius. Why would his sleeping mind ever tell him otherwise? His love would never do such a thing…

Ballister nodded. “Y-yeah. Just a dream.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, just…just hold me.”

“I’m already holding you,” a soft chuckle in his voice.

“Tighter. Please.”

Ambrosius did as he was told, curling against Ballister’s back. Soon they fell asleep again, the dream fading from Ballister’s memory before morning.

[devils-dares]

Safe and Sound

summary: what happens when matt finds a little girl hiding from her dad in her room and takes her home.

pairing: matt with unnamed!child!oc

wordcount: 2842

warnings: abuse, mentions of abuse, mentions of abandonment, mentions of death, a father being shitty to a child, crying. like a lot of crying. matt having attachment issues, mentions of bluey the show, scraped knees, ends semi-sad.

a/n: this isn't x reader, because i thought that would be kind of strange to write in this instance. this is really just headcanons turned into a fic, been sitting on it for like a month. let me know if you guys want a part two.

comments and reblogs appreciated!

-----

Matt couldn't begin to understand how this day was ending. A long day in court followed by anger management patrol, and now he's in some little girl's room shushing her before she cries and alerts her already drunk and aggressive dad.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, it's just me! Do you know who I am?"

"No but you look scary, please go away."

"I'm here to help you get away from your dad, but you gotta be real quiet alright?"

"Are those horns?" Matt rubs the forehead on the mask.

"Yes they are, and if you come with me I'll let you touch them, but I gotta get you out of here."

"Are you the stranger danger man?" He needed to find a way to get her out of here.

"I'll explain everything if you can pack a bag with everything you need so we can leave alright?" She nods reluctantly, grabbing what seemed to be her school bag.

"It's a Bluey bag. You know Bluey?"

"I don't."

"Boring." She walks over to him, and he takes the bag from her, slinging Bluey over the coarse armor. He steps out onto the fire escape, signaling the girl to follow him.

"Wait!" She whispers, "I'm scared of heights." He beckons her over still, yet she holds steadfast in her grip on the window frame.

"Will it be better if I hold you?" He asks, and she nods, so he picks her up, arm wrapped around her as her legs wrap around his hip and her head thunks on his shoulder.

Matt wracks his brain on where to take her for the night. He could just take her to a police department or a hospital, but there’s no evidence of harm on her, and they’d just return her. Crisis centers weren’t open 24/7, and the only place he could think of was his own apartment.

This was a stupid idea.

She was shaking, the poor girl, when they reached Matt’s rooftop. She couldn’t have been older than seven, and she was freezing cold. Her breaths froze midair, amusing her slightly as she kept making huffing noises next to Matt’s ear.

“We’re here.” He says, gently placing her on the ground before opening to the rooftop door.

“Head inside, it should be warm.” Her shoes tip tap down the stairs, pausing at the bottom.

“Where are we?” She asks.

“My apartment.” He sighs, scratching at his chin.

“Are you going to hurt me?” She asks.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but if you could tell me about your dad, I can make sure you never get hurt by him again.” Her body jolts ever so slightly at the sound of the title.

“How did you know?” Childish wonder pours through her voice, but Matt can hear the undertones of skepticism.

“I heard your mom scream.”

“Not my mom, dad’s girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Matt listens, “tell me more. Does he do it often?” She pauses, and then nods.

“All the time.”

“Has he hurt you recently?” She nods again, then pulls both her pant legs to above her knees. Matt smells dried blood.

“He pushed me.” She says simply, and Matt feels his hands curl tightly into fists.

“I’m going to get you something for that.” He walks to the bathroom, and she wraps her arms around her stomach, trying her best to make herself appear smaller.

“I got you some bandaids and some antibiotic cream, but I gotta clean it first okay?” He gestures to her to sit on the chair by the dining table and kneels in front of her.

“Do you have the bandaids with the smiley faces?”

“Hm, no. But I can draw on these ones with a marker?”

“Okay.” She did not sound amused.

“Can you take the helmet off?” She asks, touching the horns.

“I can,” he says, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?” She nods enthusiastically, and his fingers graze the helmet before tugging it off.

“I’m going to clean your scrapes now.” He says. Her whines break his heart when he presses the alcohol wipe to her raw skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He says, and he can tell her bottom lip is quivering as the smell of salt fills the air. He goes through it as quickly as possible, grabbing the marker behind him to cheer her up.

“Want smiley faces?” He asks, and her mood shifts almost immediately. She wipes her tears away and nods. She watches as he finds the edges of the bandaid with his thumb, drawing within the barrier he created with his fingers. It’s then that she notices that he’s not made eye contact with anything.

“All done.” Matt stands up, smiling at her.

“Are you blind?”

“Oh- uh- yes. I am.” He rubs the back of his neck, as if he’s been cornered.

“That’s cool.”

“Cool?”

“I’ve never met a blind person before.”

“Oh.”

“Can I ask about stuff?”

“About being blind?” She hums.

“Okay,” Matt says, grabbing her a glass of water from the kitchen and some snacks, she must be hungry, “but you gotta eat these and drink this while you ask, I don’t want you going hungry.”

“‘M not hungry.” Right on cue, her stomach growls.

“You sure about that?” She grumbles and takes the snack.

“How does the cane help?” Her voice comes out mumbled from her stuffing her face.

“It helps by telling me what I’m going over, like if I’m going to run into something, or if I’m going to hit a curb. It also helps people know that I’m blind.”

“What color are your glasses?” He laughs.

“I’m told they’re red.”

“Red glasses are cool.”

“Thank you.” She falls silent, the only sound coming from her chewing.

“Are those two the only questions you had?” He asks, amused.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, is it alright if I leave you for a bit? Just to take a shower?”

“Do you have Bluey?”

“I’m- not sure what Bluey is on.”

“Do you have a tv?”

“I have a laptop.”

“Gimme.”

He gets her set up with the show, and before he steps into the bathroom, she has another question.

“Why is there a man talking on the computer?”

“What do you mean?”

“This man is not on Bluey.”

“Oh! Those are audio descriptions, they help me ‘watch’ tv by describing what’s happening. Here, I can turn it off for you.”

-----

Matt’s rubbing his damp hair dry with a towel when he emerges from the bathroom. The kid’s not on the couch, and Matt realizes she’s rummaging around the kitchen.

“Are you still hungry?” He asks, checking the time on his watch. It was just half past two in the morning.

“I didn’t have breakfast or dinner,” she explains, “just stinky school lunch. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t think I have anything you’ll like, but I know a diner that’s still open and delivers. Does that sound alright with you?”

“Waffles and hot chocolate?”

“Waffles and hot chocolate.” He confirms, a smile growing on his face.

“Can I have whipped cream?”

“On the hot chocolate or on the waffles?”

“Both! And chocolate chips on the waffles!”

“Okay kiddo,” Matt says, chuckling, “let’s see what I can do.”

Thirty minutes later, the two of them are sitting at the dining table and eating waffles and drinking hot chocolate. Matt also indulged himself in whipped cream, and the kid was laughing from his whipped cream mustache. Her giggles are interrupted by a yawn, and Matt finally realizes just how late it is for her, even if this is normal operating hours for him.

“Why don’t you finish up that waffle while I set the bed for you? It’s been a long day.” She nods, and Matt gets up to set the bedroom for her. He’s glad he put in the investment to get curtains installed in the bedroom, so it’s easier for her to sleep. He grabs a few pillows and thicker blankets for her, as well as plugging a nightlight into the wall. She’s falling asleep at the table by the time he comes back, and he resorts to just carrying her to the bed.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, I’ll be on the couch. If you need anything you can wake me up, okay?” He explains, and she nods.

He settles on the couch, blanket up to his chin. He ventures in and out of slumber, listening in to the kid’s heartbeat until he realizes it hasn’t settled or slowed. He listens a bit more, getting up when he hears soft sobs.

“Hey,” he slides the door on its rollers, “are you alright?” She shakes her head quickly and reaches out for him. He rushes to her side and allows her to wrap her arms around his neck when he sits next to her. His hands rub up and down her back, as she buries her head in his neck and he lets her cry to her heart’s content. She cries about everything her dad did to her and his girlfriend, to her mom, she cries about her mom leaving her, she cries about getting bullied at school and being hungry all the time. The one thing that breaks Matt’s heart the most is how badly she cries about how nice he’s been to her. That the waffles were the most she’s eaten in one sitting in a month. That this is the first time she’s had clean sheets since she can remember. That he let her watch tv on his laptop.

He lets her cry until her sobs fall quiet, hiccups running through her little body. She asks him to stay, and he does just that. He props himself up against his headboard with a pillow tucked behind his back while she stays in the same position, body tucked against his, and she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder.

-----

He gets woken up by small taps on his shoulder. He jolts awake, trying to get his bearings.

“Why are you up?” He asks, hands coming up to rub his eyes.

“I have school. You gotta take me to school.”

“You have- can you miss today?”

“Nuh uh, they’ll call my dad, and plus I have a spelling test.”

“When does your school start?”

“8:30.”

“That’s in- that’s in twenty minutes. Oh god.” He springs out of bed, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

The two of them are out the door in eight minutes, Matt’s tie is crooked and his hair isn’t brushed, but the kid looks impeccable and that’s what matters.

“What time does school end?”

“Three.”

“Okay, I’ll be right here to pick you up alright? I’ll try to get something sorted for you as far as everything else goes.” She nods, hugging Matt quickly, and before he can react she runs through the doors of the school.

-----

“Do I want to ask what happened last night?” Foggy says, but Matt’s focus is on Karen.

“Can you call Mahoney up here? And also child services? I have a- case, an important one.”

“Child services?” Karen asks.

“I’ll explain everything when they get here.”

The good thing about Mahoney knowing that Matt was Daredevil was the fact that he never questioned where exactly Matt got the kid from. He knew it was probably some vigilante act, but all Brett really cared about was knowing that there was a kid out there who was safe.

“Where did she stay last night?”

“She stayed with me.”

“Okay, we’re going to have you fill out some paperwork, Mr. Murdock, and then we’ll need to talk to her. Do you know where she is right now?” The woman from child services asks.

“School. She’s at school,” he turns to Brett, “could you request a wellness check on the girlfriend?” Mahoney nods.

“I’ll call it in.”

A few hours of paperwork and worried looks from Foggy and Karen puts Matt at 2:45. He asks if he can leave to pick the kid up from school, and they agree. Brett accompanies Matt in the fear that her dad might show up to pick her up, but nobody’s there when school lets out. Matt’s relieved and also a little heartbroken for her; Jack wasn’t the best father but he was still present and loved Matt as much as he could.

“You’re here!” He hears her squeal, her body making impact against his legs, her head thudding against his stomach.

“‘Course I am,” he says, taking her backpack from her and slinging it across his back before picking her up, “told you I’d be here.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and hugs him tight.

“Murdock, I gotta talk to you when we get to the office,” Brett says, “in private.” Matt nods, and the girl peers at him.

“Who’s he?” She points at Mahoney.

“He’s someone who’s going to help put you in a safer place, I promise. Are you hungry?” She nods.

“Why don’t I meet you two back at the office?” Mahoney suggests, and Matt agrees.

“What are you in the mood for, kiddo?”

“Fries!” Matt sighs happily.

“Fries it is.”

Twenty minutes later the two of them show up, fries and burgers in tow. The child services worker pulls the kid away, and Brett finally gets to talk to Matt.

“They performed that wellness check, the dad answered, and officers were able to enter. They found a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Matt, the girlfriend’s dead.”

“So you’re saying-”

“Kid can testify for assault and a witness for murder.”

“Jesus.” Matt rubs his forehead.

“We get her into some foster care or orphanage, we can keep her safe.”

“What about her mom?”

“Not on the records.”

“Birth certificate?”

“Was changed not to include her.”

“So she’s alone now.”

“Yeah.”

“That poor kid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So what part do I have to take?”

“Nothing. As far as I know, you’re done with caring for the kid.” Matt rubs his forehead again, only looking up when the door to the conference room opens and little footsteps charge towards him.

“She said she’s taking me somewhere fun, are you coming with us?”

“Sweetheart-”

“You’re coming with, right?” Her voice softens, “he’s coming with us?” The lady shakes her head sadly, and the kid almost bursts into tears right then.

“You’re leaving me? I thought you liked me!” Her voice raises in anger and sadness, and Matt kneels in front of her.

“I do, sweetheart, I really do. But you’ll be better off with them. They’ll keep you safe.”

“You’re leaving me just like Mom did!” She bangs her small fists against Matt’s chest. He lets her, her anger bubbling over until she can’t contain it anymore. When she stops and begins crying, Matt takes her into a hug. She squeezes tight, and he lets her sob into his jacket.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but they’re going to take care of you.”

“I want you to take care of me.” She says, and Matt bites back tears at her confession.

“You’ve known me for a night, love. They have the resources, I don’t.”

“I’ll be so good! I won’t ever get in trouble!” A tear does fall from Matt’s face now, and he hugs her back tighter.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he gets her to settle down slowly, “I’ll come visit. I’ll visit you all the time with chocolate chip waffles and whipped cream on everything. I’ll be there, I promise.” She nods slowly in understanding.

“You have to make a pinky promise.” He holds out his pinky solemnly, and she takes it with her shaky hands. She hugs him again, and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Time to go,” the worker says, “you get to meet new friends there!” She tries to entice the kid, but she stays glued to Matt.

“Do you want me to walk you to the car?” She nods, holding his hand as she walks with him.

The goodbye at the car was tearful. She clung to him, wishing she didn’t have to leave while Matt sobbed silently. She tugs her backpack in with her and waves bye to him as the worker rolls up the window.

Matt goes straight home. He tried to stay in the office, but Foggy and Karen told him to leave, come back tomorrow when you feel better. He throws out the empty boxes from last night’s dinner and opens his laptop on the couch with a beer in hand to distract himself with case files. Except he’s not greeted with case files. He’s greeted with the Bluey theme song.

He sits there as episode after episode of the Australian show plays, sipping his beer as tears run down his face.

“This is stupid.” He mutters. He knew that kid for less than a day and was already so attached to her. He wipes his face and cleans around the house to distract his mind.

And then he gets waffles and hot chocolate with whipped cream for dinner.

[shiorihyuga]

A Soft Place

In a post-Rumbling world, where the threat of Titans no longer looms, Vanessa Sinclair finds herself living a quiet life, working at her family’s bakery in Wall Rose. Curvy and self-conscious, Vanessa has always faded into the background, overshadowed by her more outgoing friends. But everything changes when Captain Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest Soldier, begins visiting the bakery regularly. What starts as a simple exchange of tea and pastries quickly evolves into something more. Levi, drawn to her quiet strength and beauty, takes Vanessa on a journey that forces her to confront her insecurities, while learning that sometimes, what lies beneath the surface is more than enough. {Levi x Plus Sized OC}

Chapter Twenty Seven

Three weeks had passed, and Vanessa couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Levi, as calm and stoic as ever, had been acting just a bit… off-kilter. It wasn’t anything glaring, but in the quiet moments when she caught him alone, she’d see subtle signs. Like the other day when she found him at the bakery, sipping his tea. Vanessa had walked in from the back room, ready to ask him something, and froze in her tracks.

Levi was smiling.

Levi, smiling to himself.

It had been a small, soft smile, just a flicker on his normally stoic face, but Vanessa had never seen him like that. The moment had been so strange that she almost asked him if he was feeling okay.

But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the smile was gone, and he was back to his usual unreadable self.

Vanessa hadn’t said anything at the time, but her mind had been replaying that moment ever since. She tried to brush it off, but the odd behavior didn’t stop there. Her mother, Vivian, had also been unusually giddy. For the past few weeks, Vivian had been sneaking glances at Vanessa, especially when Levi came over, and then she'd launch into some commentary about how "things are getting serious" and how "Vanessa isn’t getting any younger."

Robin and Emma were no better.

The two had insisted that they all get friendship rings—a harmless gesture at first. Vanessa had gone along with it, mostly because it seemed to make her friends happy. But something felt strange, they’d also been pushing her to keep her nails manicured. Robin had insisted, “You have to keep your nails looking perfect! You want to show off that ring, right?”

Vanessa didn’t see the need for it. “It’s just a friendship ring, Robin. Why the fuss?”

Robin had given her a sly grin, waving her hands dismissively. “You’ll thank me later. Just keep them looking nice, okay?”

Emma had been no less subtle. She’d commented at least twice that week about how beautiful Vanessa’s hands looked when they were all dressed up. Vanessa couldn’t help but feel like everyone around her was acting strange. Levi’s occasional secret smiles, her mother’s incessant comments, and now Robin and Emma’s bizarre focus on her nails? Something was going on, but she couldn’t figure out what...

…

It was another early morning at The Sweet House. Vanessa stood behind the counter, arranging pastries and filling orders. The bakery smelled of warm cinnamon, sugar, and freshly baked bread—comforting and familiar. Yet her mind wandered back to the strange behavior everyone around her had been exhibiting.

Levi was due to visit the bakery soon, as he always did, and Vanessa found herself nervously smoothing her apron, wondering if today would bring more of his cryptic smiles. She wasn’t sure whether to press him for answers or let it go.

As if on cue, the bell above the door chimed, and Levi stepped inside. He was dressed as usual—his coat framing his lean, strong figure—but there was something different about him today. He seemed… lighter, like the weight he usually carried had shifted slightly.

Vanessa greeted him with a warm smile, though her eyes were full of curiosity. “Morning, Captain,” she teased, handing him his usual tea. “You’re looking suspiciously happy again.”

Levi accepted the tea with his usual calm, but the corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile. He gave her a quick glance, his steel-gray eyes betraying nothing.

“Just a good day,” he said, his voice as flat as ever, though Vanessa could sense something beneath the surface.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Uh-huh… Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’ve been smiling more lately, and that’s not exactly your style.”

Levi met her gaze, his expression neutral but with a flicker of amusement. “I don’t smile.”

Vanessa crossed her arms, a playful grin spreading across her face. “I saw it with my own eyes, Captain. You smiled the other day. I almost had to check your temperature.”

Levi huffed, taking a sip of his tea as if to avoid answering, but Vanessa didn’t miss the way his eyes softened slightly when he looked at her.

“Maybe you’re imagining things,” he replied dryly, but there was something warm in his tone.

Vanessa wasn’t convinced, but before she could question him further, the back door swung open, and Robin and Emma burst into the room. They were carrying trays of freshly baked bread, but their eyes were on Vanessa and Levi. Both of them exchanged a look that Vanessa didn’t quite catch, and then Robin cleared her throat.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Captain Levi,” Robin said with a grin, setting the tray down. “You’re here bright and early. Planning to steal Ness away for some secret mission?”

Emma, trying to keep a straight face, added, “Yeah, you two seem to be in on something we don’t know about.”

Levi shot them both a sharp glance, and Vanessa, sensing the shift in the air, raised an eyebrow. “Alright, what’s going on with you three? You’ve all been acting weird for weeks now.”

Robin’s face went blank for a second, clearly trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from dangerous territory. “What? Us? Nooo, we’re just our usual fabulous selves!”

Emma nodded, her expression painfully forced. “Yep, just making sure everything’s perfect for the bakery. Nothing else.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked between them, then back to Levi. Her suspicion deepened. “Right. Sure.”

She wasn’t buying it.

…

The next day, Levi made his way toward the jeweler’s shop with a steady, purposeful stride. Today, it wasn’t just him heading to pick up the ring—Vivian had insisted on coming with him. Levi had agreed, knowing how important this was not only for him but also for Vanessa’s mother, who had been as excited, if not more, about the upcoming proposal.

As they approached the jeweler’s shop, Vivian could barely contain her excitement. She clutched her purse tightly, her eyes shining with anticipation. “Oh, Levi,” she gushed, almost bouncing with energy, “I can’t believe we’re here to get the ring! My Vanessa is going to be over the moon. I just know it!”

Levi glanced at her, offering a rare, small smile. “It’s about time,” he muttered, his usual stoic tone softened with a hint of excitement he couldn’t quite hide.

The bell above the door chimed as they stepped into the shop. The jeweler, the same elderly man who had worked with Levi to design the ring, looked up from behind the counter and smiled warmly at the sight of them. “Ah, Captain Levi, and you must be Vanessa’s mother,” he greeted, nodding politely to Vivian.

Vivian beamed. “That’s me! And I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.”

The jeweler chuckled softly as he reached beneath the counter, pulling out a small velvet box. “Well, I think you’ll both be pleased. The ring is ready, and I must say, it turned out beautifully.”

Levi stepped forward, his eyes trained on the box as the jeweler opened it. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was the gold band, shining softly in the light. The delicate oval-cut diamond sat perfectly in the center, not too large, but its brilliance caught the eye. The butterfly etchings on the sides of the band were subtle but intricate, each wing perfectly detailed. And inside, engraved in elegant script, were the words Levi had chosen: More than enough.

Vivian’s breath hitched the moment she laid eyes on it. “Oh my God,” she whispered, one hand flying to her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh, Levi… it’s perfect. It’s… it’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Levi stared at the ring in silence for a moment, taking in every detail. It was exactly as he’d envisioned—simple, elegant, and deeply personal. Something Vanessa could wear every day without worrying, but still something that would remind her of how much she meant to him. More than she ever realized.

Vivian’s tears flowed freely now as she reached out to gently touch the edge of the velvet box. “She’s going to love it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I just know it. This is… it’s everything.”

The jeweler smiled, watching the emotional reaction with quiet pride. “I’m glad you both approve. I could tell this ring was made with a lot of thought and care.”

Levi nodded, his gaze still locked on the ring. “It was,” he said quietly.

Vivian sniffled and wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief she’d pulled from her purse. “I’m just so… so happy. I always dreamed of the day my Vanessa would find someone who truly saw her for the beautiful, kind, and talented woman she is. And to see how much effort you’ve put into this, Captain, it’s…” She paused, her voice trembling with emotion. “It means the world to me. And it will mean everything to her.”

Levi shifted slightly, feeling a rare wave of vulnerability pass over him as he listened to Vivian’s words. He wasn’t a man who spoke much, especially not about his feelings. But he hoped that everything he’d put into planning this—the ring, the proposal, everything—would show Vanessa how much she meant to him without him needing to say all the words.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice low but sincere.

Vivian gave him a watery smile, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “No, thank you, Levi. For loving my daughter the way you do. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

Levi gave a small nod, his usual stoic demeanor firmly in place, but inside, he felt a swell of something that he couldn’t quite put into words. It was more than just love—it was a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The jeweler carefully closed the box and handed it to Levi. “Here you are, Captain. It’s all ready for you.”

Levi took the box, holding it in his hand for a moment before tucking it safely into his coat pocket. “Appreciate it,” he said, his tone firm and businesslike, though there was a quiet gratitude behind his words.

Vivian, still dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, looked at Levi with a knowing smile. “Now, when are you going to propose? Have you planned it all out yet?”

Levi exhaled softly, thinking about the answer. He had a few ideas floating around in his mind, but now that he held the ring, it all felt more real. “Not yet,” he admitted. “But it’ll be soon. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

Vivian smiled, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Whatever you do, I know it’ll be perfect. Vanessa won’t suspect a thing.” She let out a small laugh, her mood lifting. “She’s already wondering why you’ve been acting strange lately. She told me she caught you smiling to yourself!”

Levi gave a rare, faint chuckle at that. “She did. Almost blew it.”

“Well,” Vivian said, straightening up and clasping her hands together, “you’ve got my blessing, Captain. And believe me, I couldn’t be happier. I’ll keep my lips sealed, but I’m just counting down the days until I can see her face when you ask.”

Levi gave a short nod, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Thanks, Vivian. For everything.”

As they left the jeweler’s shop, Levi felt the small weight of the velvet box in his pocket. It wasn’t heavy in the physical sense, but it carried a meaning far greater than any object he’d ever held. This was the next step—something he’d never thought he’d be ready for, but now he couldn’t imagine not doing.

And as Vivian chatted excitedly beside him, already planning how to help with whatever proposal idea he came up with, Levi’s mind wandered to Vanessa. Her smile, her laugh, the way she’d transformed from the timid, self-conscious woman he first met into the confident, radiant person she was today.

She didn’t know it yet, but soon, he’d be asking her to spend the rest of her life with him.

And Levi had never been more certain of anything in his life.

…

Levi and Vivian strolled down the cobbled streets back toward The Sweet House, the winter chill nipping at their noses. The velvet box containing Vanessa’s ring was safely tucked away in Levi’s coat pocket, but he could still feel its weight—a constant reminder of the monumental step he was about to take. He kept his hands in his pockets, his mind working through the next steps, though for once, his sharp focus was softened by the warmth of the moment.

Vivian, walking beside him, was positively glowing. Her cheeks were still flushed from the excitement of seeing the ring, and she couldn’t stop smiling. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she looked up at Levi, her eyes filled with affection. “Levi,” she began, her voice gentle but full of emotion, “I just want you to know how much I care about you.”

Levi glanced at her, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “I know,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual. He wasn’t used to these kinds of heartfelt conversations, but with Vivian, they always seemed to come naturally.

Vivian’s steps slowed as she continued, “You’ve been such a blessing to our family. Seeing how happy you make Vanessa—it’s everything a mother could hope for. And to think… soon, you’ll officially be part of our family. I can’t even describe how much that means to me.”

Levi didn’t say anything at first, but he took in her words with deep respect. He knew how much family meant to Vivian—how fiercely she loved Vanessa, and how she extended that warmth and love to him without hesitation, even from the beginning. It was a kindness Levi wasn’t used to, but it was something he appreciated more than he could ever express.

“I’m honored,” Levi said finally, his voice low but sincere. “You’ve always been kind to me. Welcoming. That’s not something I’ve experienced much.”

Vivian’s eyes softened as she looked at him, her steps coming to a slow halt. They stood there in the middle of the quiet street for a moment, the bakery still a few blocks ahead. “Oh, Levi,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “You deserve every bit of kindness and more. You’ve been through so much, and yet, you’ve come out the other side stronger. I see that strength in how you care for my daughter. And as her mother, there’s no greater gift than knowing she’s with someone who truly sees her for who she is.”

Levi stood there, taking in her words, feeling a rare sense of gratitude. He wasn’t one to dwell on his own past, but Vivian’s words brought a flicker of warmth to a part of him that had been cold for so long. “I respect you,” he said quietly, his steel-gray eyes meeting hers. “For raising Vanessa. For everything. She’s the woman she is today because of you.”

Vivian’s eyes brimmed with tears again, and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Levi. I’ve always wanted the best for her. And now, knowing she’s found that in you… I can’t even put it into words.”

Before Levi could respond, Vivian suddenly threw her arms around him in an excited, warm hug. He stiffened at first, as he always did when people hugged him, but after a second, he let himself relax into the embrace. Vivian’s affection was always overwhelming, but it was genuine, and that was something Levi had come to appreciate more than he ever thought he would.

Vivian pulled back slightly, only to plant a kiss on each of Levi’s cheeks, her laughter light and full of joy. “You’re going to make such a wonderful son-in-law,” she declared, her voice full of pride. “I can’t wait to officially brag about you to all my friends. ‘Captain Levi, my future son-in-law,’ I’ll say. They’ll be so jealous!”

Levi couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They’ll never hear the end of it, will they?”

Vivian grinned mischievously, wiping at her eyes again. “Not a chance! I’m already planning what to say the next time I meet up with the ladies for tea. Oh, they’ll all be asking about you.”

Levi shook his head slightly but couldn’t hide the faint amusement in his eyes. “I’m sure they will,” he muttered dryly, but there was a hint of warmth in his voice.

Vivian linked her arm with his as they continued walking toward the bakery, her voice full of excitement. “I just can’t wait. Vanessa has no idea what’s coming, does she?”

“No,” Levi replied, his tone soft but sure. “She has no clue.”

Vivian let out a small, happy sigh. “She’s going to be over the moon, Levi. You’ve done everything perfectly. She’s been through so much, but you… you make her feel safe. You’ve brought out the best in her.”

Levi’s heart swelled at the thought of Vanessa—her laughter, her warmth, her gentle but fierce spirit. “She’s done the same for me,” he admitted quietly, surprising himself with the honesty of the statement. “I never thought I’d have something like this.”

Vivian smiled softly. “Well, now you do. And I couldn’t be happier for both of you.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze as they neared the bakery. “You’re family now, Levi. You’ve always been welcome, but now… you’re truly part of us.”

Levi didn’t say anything, but he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years. Vivian’s kindness, her motherly warmth, had filled a gap in his life that had been left cold and empty since the loss of his own mother. He respected her deeply, not just for being Vanessa’s mother, but for the way she had welcomed him into their lives with open arms.

As they reached The Sweet House, Levi glanced over at Vivian, giving her a small nod of thanks—his silent way of expressing the gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words.

Vivian, still brimming with excitement, beamed up at him. “You’re going to make Vanessa the happiest woman in the world, Levi. I can already see it.”

Levi’s lips curved into a barely-there smile. “I hope so.”

“Oh, I know so,” Vivian said, giving him another quick hug before pulling back. “Now go home and start planning that proposal! You’ve got my full support.”

With that, Levi turned and headed toward HQ, the ring nestled safely in his pocket, his heart full as he walked through the streets. The next step was clear. The next chapter of his life—their life—was about to begin. And for the first time in a long time, Levi felt truly at peace.

~

Masterlist

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[sulky-valkyrie]

Prompt: Pride Demon

Extra points: Fenders or Doristair

Challenge round: 666 words

xoxo

XOXOXOXOXO for @dadrunkwriting

Alistair awoke with a start in a room full of purple fog.

No, wait.

He’d fallen asleep.  After partaking in another of Hawke’s damnable pipes.  Maker, why did I agree to that a second time?  It was a silly question.  After the day they’d all had, he’d needed something to take the edge off, and the Inquisition’s ale just wasn’t strong enough to keep the darkspawn chattering at bay.  

He wasn’t awake at all, but dreaming.

Hands reached toward him through the haze, grabbing his wrists and pulling him upright.  “Al, buddy!”  Hawke giggled.  “You’re just in time!”

“I just… wanted to get some sleep,” he protested as Hawke pulled him through a maze of drapery.  “What the void did you put in your pipe this time?” 

Hawke waved at him dismissively.  “Tell you later, c’mon!  I’ve got a surprise.”

Alistair stopped, and Hawke’s legs nearly slipped out from under him.  “You.  Have a surprise.  In the Fade.  How many dicks has it got?”  He shook his head and turned around.  “No, I don’t even want to know.  I’ll just go back to my little corner and wait for this to wear off, thanks.”

“C’mooooooonnnnnnn,” Hawke whined.  “Dorian thinks it’s hilarious!”

“Dorian’s here too?” Alistair looked around.  “Where?”

“Keeping the grapes company.”  

What could that possibly mean?  “Fine,” he sighed, and let Hawke drag him off.

The mist thinned out as they walked, revealing a hall lined with mirrors.  The reflections didn’t match, but their movements did: in one, a woman with graying hair and scars covering her throat led a darkspawn.  In another, a revenant tugged at the wrist of a stableboy.  In a third, a drake pranced held a mabari’s leash.

“What are -”

“Don’t look,” Hawke interrupted.  “Too much fuckin’ introspection, not enough fucking, if you ask me.”

“Where are we?”

“The Fade, yeah?  Anything goes, long as someone dreamed it.”  He shrugged as he kept moving.  “Windows ‘n’ shit.  To other, y'know.  Lives.  Thoughts.  Also the scissors.”

“Scissors?” Alistair asked.

Hawke pointed at a shattered frame up ahead.  “Guess that one's my fault.  Don't worry ‘bout the scissors.  Broke that mirror already.”

That answer did nothing to soothe Alistair's nerves.  “This - this is a good surprise, right?”

Hawke sped up.  “C'mon.”  They went from a jog, to a trot, to a flat run, moving too fast to catch the images in the mirrors beyond the occasional tentacle or wing. 

They skidded to a halt at an enormous pair of doors decorated like an old elven mosaic.

Hawke shoved the doors open.  “Honey, I’m home!”

Something snarled behind the curtain.

“About time!”  Dorian called from one of those strange couches that only had an armrest on one side.  “Was beginning to wonder if our resident Madman had taken a wrong turn at the Hall of Lies.”  He grabbed something from a bowl held by a -

“Is that a desire demon?” Alistair blurted out as he drew his sword.  “What's - Dorian, is this real?  Are you?”

Dorian leaned back and glared at Hawke.  “You didn’t tell him?”

Hawke laughed.  “He’d think I’m crazy.”

“You are crazy.”

“Not the point.”  Hawke turned to push Alistair toward Dorian’s couch.  “I worked fuckin’ hard on this, and you’re gonna have fun, and then, if you’re still all frog-smalled about it, you can stuff a bronto in me horns first, yeah?”

Whatever any of this was, no one, not even a demon pretending to be him, could ever talk like that but the real Madman of Kirkwall, and if he was real, the Dorian must be too.  Alistair gave up and sat down.

Hawke giggled, then ran across the room to tear down a curtain.

What was behind it was beyond anything he could’ve guessed: a pride demon wearing a dress and dancing the Remigold.

“Why?” was all he could think to ask.

Hawke laughed.  “Lost a bet.  Too much pride not to go double or triple or quadruple or nothing.”  He slapped Alistair’s back.  “Enjoy the show, Al.”

[fumbling-flower]

☀︎ when the day met the night ☾

⁺���⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊ ⋆

Summary: Filch had no desire to put himself back out there after his widowing years ago, but the man running the plant store down the street from his university is threatening to change his mind.

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 50k currently, more to come

Pairing: Halsin/Tav (Named Tav)

Relationships: Halsin/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Gale & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Jaheira & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tav & Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Halsin & Jaheira (Baldur's Gate)

Characters: Tav (Baldur's Gate), Halsin (Baldur's Gate), Gale (Baldur's Gate), Jaheira (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Omeluum (Baldur's Gate), Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)

Tags/CW: 18+, Named Tav (Baldur's Gate) Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Lack of Communication, Slow Burn, Trauma, Widowed, Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Communication Failure, C-PTSD, Panic Attacks

This is my first long-fic that I've ever posted, so please join me for this very niche but fun ride if you are interested!! I do my best to update as regularly as I can, but I am in grad school so... you know how that is lol

Read on AO3!

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⁺₊ ⋆

Excerpt:

He was very tall. It was the first thing Filch noticed. His honey-brown hair was tied up in a knot at the back of his head with a stick in the shape of a curling vine, leaving his elven ears out to frame his face. He had some kind of a scar across the right side of his forehead, and his eyes were almost unnaturally green, vibrant in the way only elven eyes could be. He was in a turtleneck that showed off his strong upper body, and an apron with dirt smudges was tied around his waist. Filch found himself slightly taken aback for some reason he couldn’t place. It took him a moment to remember he’d been asked a question.

“Ah… yes, actually. I was sent your direction by the folks at Cloakwood. She said you might’ve had a tomato plant? Heirloom, specifically? I need it for a lecture.”

“A lecture?” The man mirrored. His voice, somehow, managed to be gruff and gentle at the same time. “I take it that you’re teaching at Waterdeep University?” He gestured at the back wall he’d accidentally blocked before. “We just got some in this morning. Take your pick.”

“Wonderful—thank you.” He thumbed through them, searching for one that was fine enough for a simple lecture and could survive student scrutiny. Something odd inside of him wanted to be chatty, and without thinking, he continued. “You would not believe the ordeal I went through to get here. I’d hardly gotten two steps out of Floshin when a student decided to aggravate the vines.” He paused. “Sorry, I think I’ve presumed you know what I’m talking about.”

“Not to worry. As a matter of fact, I do! I finished my PhD there just a few years ago—Physiology and Ecology of Horticultural Sciences.” Filch paused his search for a moment, surprised. He had looked to be closer to his age, not that that had ever stopped anyone before. But it was strange they’d never met. “Those vines never gave me trouble, but that’s only because Rath explained them to be as ‘gremishka, but in a plant-like form’.” He laughed. “Good times.”

“Did you study under Rath? I hear rumors that he’s retiring soon.” Filch pulled out a plant with a good mix of tomatoes in different life stages. This one would be a great visual for the students.

“Yes, Rath was my supervisor. He was wonderful—we still keep in touch.” He tilted his head. “What do you teach? I’m surprised that I never worked with you.”

“Well, I mostly teach mycology, usually. We’re a bit short this year, so I’ve got a 100-level this semester. Just a basic biology course. Which is why I need this.” He set the tomato plant on the counter. “I’ve found the class is rather visual, so they’ve had more success when I use tools like this.”

“That makes sense. I’m a visual man myself.” He rung it up and slid it into a paper bag. There were soft smile lines along his cheeks. Suddenly though, his face fell, like he was debating something. “Hm. Do you get funding to pay for this?”

“Oh, no. Gods no.” Filch laughed humorlessly. “But it’s only a plant. It’s not the end of the world.”

The owner looked at him and sighed, then pushed the plant forward. “Please just take it. I wouldn’t feel right charging you for it.”

Filch paused with his wallet in his hand, taken aback. “What? No, no. I can’t do that. Don’t be ridiculous.” He pushed it back towards him. “I’ll pay you. You have a business to run.”

“Sure,” he retorted, “but you shouldn’t have to pay out of pocket for a lecture you have to run. So take it.”

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

The Kingdom of the Stars Chapter 4: The Proposition

((ooc: Merry Christmas to all of my tumblr followers/readers!))

Previous: Chapter 3

Next: Chapter 5

 They made their way down the hallway, as several servants stopped to bow to their passing king.

It wasn’t until Asha recognized the familiar sight of the west wing’s door did she began to feel nervous. 

He wasn’t going to take her down here, was he?

With a simple gesture, she watched the doors open themselves for the king as he stepped through. For a moment she hesitated, but after a minute or so of reassurance, she quietly followed the king through the doors. 

Why was he taking her here? She wondered as she hesitantly followed him past the doors into another quiet room where there were three doors. All like the doors before had strange markings engraved into their frames. Runes, perhaps? She wasn’t sure, but something about them felt…different, even ominous.

Beside her, the king stopped, only to spare her a brief look before he said, “Do you know why you’re here Asha?”

“Not exactly your highness,” she confessed. Part of her was hoping that it hadn’t been to unleash whatever secret magical creature he’d hidden down here on her as punishment for her treason.

She held her breath as she watched him push the door open, revealing a large room that was thankfully absent of any mythical creature. Quietly, she followed him toward the room’s center. A sense of awe filled her as she took in the architecture of the room. Its tall windows in combination with the beautiful starry sky that had been painted on the ceiling left her feeling breathless. 

“Does it look familiar?” he asks, a grin appearing on his face. 

“This…this was one of my first star maps,” she breathed. “I made it back when my father was still here, and he’d take me stargazing.”

“I could tell. You remember showing it to us don’t you?” he asked as she gave him a brief nod. “It was always one of Amaya’s favorites. So, we were thinking that it was only fair that our apprentice of 5 years got to see the wish room, especially when we’d made her maps one of the more…permanent additions.”

“The wish room?” she repeated, feeling stunned as the glowing orbs came into view overhead. 

He nods, as she watches the glowing, spherically shaped wishes of various colors slowly descend towards them. Some were bigger than others she noted, as the faint outlines of shapes and figures materialized as they neared. She could hear them, the sounds of laughter and voices talking as the wishes began to surround them. They’d looked just as she’d seen them in the wishing gardens, where people went to distribute their wishes to the king. 

To anyone such a sight would’ve evoked a sense of wonder and beauty, but to Asha, she couldn’t help but feel… Skeptical? Disappointed? Maybe even angry? 

She wasn’t sure how to explain it as she frowned, and quickly stepped out of the way of another wish that had begun to float towards her. 

This hadn’t been her first time seeing a wish, as she’d remembered asking the king about her Saba’s wish a few years ago. It’d been his birthday and she’d wondered whether or not the king would grant his wish that he’d kept for years. So, after mustering up what little courage she could, she’d asked him, and to her surprise, he’d patiently answered. He’d selected her grandfather’s wish before promptly telling her that he wouldn’t grant it. Of course, she’d been a bit tempted to argue, but the arguments had immediately died down when she’d seen what said wish was.

At first, it depicted her Saba cheerfully playing his mandolin. Something that she’d deemed quite harmless. Then it’d shown her Saba cheerfully playing said mandolin while riding a fire-breathing dragon. Alright, so maybe his wish hadn’t been that harmless. She’d unfortunately conceded that point to the king.

Not all wishes were meant to be granted.

The sounds of the smaller wishes filled her ears as she could hear a middle-aged man wishing for someone to help him with his garden, and an elderly woman wishing for company.

She cast a glance in Magnifico’s direction, taking note of the serene yet happy expression his face held as he gently examined the wish in his hand. It was at moments like these that Magnifico truly resembled the king she’d read of in fairy tales. The ruler who fought the stars to protect the wishes of his people.  The man whom her father had befriended and admired. A man who she too, could fully respect.

She could tell that these wishes had meant everything to him, and with his dying breath, he’d ensure that they would always be protected. 

Quietly, he began to hum as the sounds of a gentle lullaby made itself known. One that felt so melancholic yet comforting at the same time.

“I’m truly honored Your Highness,” she softly says with a curtsy. 

“As you should be. With the dawn of a new era upon us, there will be no time to be stuck dwelling in the past. We should all be moving forward as the best way to prevent history from repeating itself is to understand and know your future. Do you understand?”

“Yes Your Highness,” she nodded, although she’d felt that his words had been more of a command than a question. 

“Good,” she watched as the wish slowly distanced itself from his fingers as he turned to her. “This is why we must move on- to protect what is important from those who would seek to destroy it at all costs.”

She nodded, and a brief image of the monsters he’d fought from the murals came to mind.

Part of her thought that such creatures were nothing more than exaggerations of past foreign enemies.

After all of her studies, Asha was confident that stars weren’t real monsters. She believed stars were nothing more than distant wonders of nature. 

Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Where are these wishes from?” she asked, glancing around at the wishes that surrounded them. 

“They’re from Banquo.” the king answered, sounding a tad bit distracted. 

The western part of Rosas, she noted, was just where the girl’s wish had been from as well. 

 “But speaking of Banquo, that reminds me. I have a proposition for you, something that I think you’d be interested in.” 

“What…sort of proposition?” Asha asked, feeling her nerves begin to take hold of her once more.

“Well think of it like this, you want time off, correct? And I want you to stay around to help with the Astral Ball. So, I’ve devised a compromise of sorts. I will give you the day of the Astral Ball off- if , and only if   you can finish the tasks I’ve given you by tomorrow nightfall.”

“Really? Well, what sort of tasks would you like me to do, your highness?”

He chuckled. Uh oh. “Well I’m glad you asked,” he says before withdrawing an extensively long scroll from thin air. Oh no . “I’m going to need you to oversee the decorations of the western and eastern markets, ensure all the shipments have arrived and are in their proper places,  and -,”

“And?” Asha squeaked, nearly giving into despair.

“I will need you to tell my nephew that his presence is requested for the ball.”

Asha nearly choked when she heard that. 

His nephew? 

Prince Ignacio?

He hadn’t been seen or heard from in months! No one knew where he was! How was she supposed to find him and convince him to come home in less than a day?! 

“Do you think you can do all of that?” he says while giving her a look that said he most definitely knew she could not. Missing royal nephew aside, getting the markets dressed to the nines in time would be impossible- how was she going to travel the island in less than a day?! 

“W-well, I-,” she begins.

“You know what?” he called, looking way too amused at her hesitation. “ I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll even throw in this offer. If you get all of these things done on time, not only will I grant you time off, but I’ll even consider funding one of your little projects! How does that sound?”

Oh, he definitely didn’t think she could do this on time, but the offer of funding for one of her projects sounded too good to pass up. It could be the solution she’d long since dreamed of- a way out of all of the dead ends of frustrations she’d been feeling lately!

“Well, I have been doing some work on my boat models, and I really think we could-,”

“Yes, yes, that’s lovely,” the king interrupted with a wave of his hand. Now he looked impatient. “But are you going to accept my proposal or not?”

‘This was a lot to do for a well-deserved vacation and some consideration,’ Asha thought, while hesitantly glancing out of the window. But consideration was a lot more than the usual firm, no, and it did give her a good excuse to travel where the girl who’d wished for the dresses had been…Not to mention that if she could do it, then she’d finally be able to see her Saba and mother again, both of whom she was starting to miss terribly. If only they could know what their hero, the king, was putting her through to see them again, she thought. She wondered if it would change their perception of him. Maybe they’d finally start to listen to her about not indulging in the magic of Rosas, for once-

“The clock is ticking Asha. So what will it be?”

Determined not to look as panicked or uncertain as she felt, Asha straightened her posture, “of course! I will do my best, your highness. I will have everything finished by tomorrow nightfall!”

“Excellent,” he says, sounding a little too smug for her liking as she watches the scroll place itself into her hands. With a flicker of his hands, the wishes begin to ascend towards the ceiling once more before completely disappearing without a trace. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow at the eastern market. I wish you luck on all of your tasks, Asha,” Magnifico calls, as she begins to follow him out.

'Him and me both,' Asha thought, as she quickly jotted down the tasks from the scrolls onto a spare piece of paper she kept in her satchel before placing the scroll down on a nearby table. 

She had scurried past the entrance to the west wing when she saw him again. “Oh and another thing,” he calls to her as she sees the door to the west wing close themselves. “Could you please fix the lock on the library door for me? It’s been broken since last night.”

“Yes your Highness,” she bows as she hears him chuckle once more. The familiar taste of disappointment filled her mouth as she heard him chuckle again before walking off.

Thirty minutes later, Asha found herself feeling determined to make the king regret his proposition. She was quite certain that said proposition was nothing more than a lesson to teach her about inconveniently asking for time off. However, she’d felt that the king had sorely underestimated her if he’d decided to call victory so soon. 

Fixing the lock on the library had expectedly taken her a total of three minutes to do. Such a banal task had been familiar to her as she’d had a history of repairing broken non-magical locks all over the castle. It was just one of the many trivial tasks as an apprentice that Magnifico usually assigned for her due to her lack of magical ability.

But as soon as she’d finished said task, she’d rushed as quickly as she could back to her quarters. She’d written several messages, all to the people she’d spoken to for the ball’s arrangements, calling for them to meet her this evening. She’d done it before, and she was quite confident she could do it again.

“It’s at times like these when I begin to realize exactly why democracy is on the rise in some countries. Why is it that I have to do a herculean task just to get him to even consider some of my projects? He could have just said no like he always does! But, if he thinks I’m going to pass up this opportunity, well he’s got another thing coming and I don’t think he’s going to like it!” Asha whispered to Valentino as he followed her through the dark passages to the castle courtyards. The castle courtyards were always in impeccable shape, she thought as she saw the beautiful limestone statues above the bushes of blooming crimson roses and lemon-colored tulips. 

Had it not been for the arduous amount of tasks she had to do, Asha would’ve gladly stopped to enjoy the sweet scent and sights of the brilliant flowers that surrounded her. But alas, she knew better. The flowers served as nothing more than one of the king’s many beautiful distractions to the people of Rosas. 

Navigating through the mazes of well-trimmed green bushes, marble fountains, and smaller flowers, she finally made her way to the small wooden birdhouse that had been neatly tucked out of sight.

She’d built this birdhouse a year ago after she’d saved a few birds from the royal couple’s nefarious cat. Although said deed had earned her the eternal ire of the royal cat, she’d quickly found herself forming a small friendship with the birds, as their numbers quickly began to grow.

“I’m back!” she sang, watching as a few dozen colorful birds emerged from their birdhouse flying over to greet her. She let out a small laugh as she watched many of them land near her feet as she withdrew a piece of bread from her pocket.

Kneeling to the ground she called out, “Hello Adelina, Alejandro, Carmen,” she grinned as a scarlet-colored bird perched on her sleeve, brightly chirping to her as she gently petted it. “I missed you too Abril. How has everyone been doing?” she asked, as the birds responded with a choir of chirps and song. “I’ll take that as a ‘very good’. Are you guys ready for lunch?” 

The birds replied with a variety of chirps before eagerly hopping towards her. “I’ll take that as a yes as well,” she grinned as she began to toss the pieces of food to them.  They eagerly gobbled it up, before she withdrew another piece of bread from her pocket.  “I hope you guys have been doing well- the cat wasn’t after you again was he?” she asked, as the birds continued to coo and chirp. “I’ll take that as a no.” She began to tear the bread into smaller pieces as she watched Valentino happily chase some of the birds who always flew out of reach. 

“Look, I need to ask you guys a quick favor,” she said to the birds that had stilled near her feet. “My Saba’s birthday is coming up soon, and I need to take time off. So the king agreed to give me time off, if and only if I could complete a certain amount of tasks on time. It’s a lot to do, and I was wondering if you could lend me a hand, er, wing, please? I’ll give you guys a surprise if you help me out,”

That seemed to do the trick as she saw a few bluebirds flap their wings in excitement. 

“I knew you’d see it my way,” she grinned. “Now I’m going to need 10, or maybe 12 of you, to fly to the landmarks we learned and deliver these messages. Ok?”

The birds nodded, twelve hopping towards her as she began to gently tie her messages to their feet. After a few minutes of simple instructions, they began to fly off toward the directions she’d assigned them. “Stay safe!” She called as she watched their figures sail off into the distance. 

“Ok, that’s one task down.” She muttered to herself as she began to pace. Several remaining birds had joined Valentino to curiously watch her.

“If they all reach their destination then I should be able to meet with everyone today which will be perfect.” She glanced towards the sky. Her mind fervently racing against the clock. “There’s still time, so I should be able to make my way towards the western market and Banquo. If I can oversee that I’ll be able to take care of other affairs-,” she paused mid-step as she glanced at the animals who’d still been curiously watching her.

“Right right and then I’ll have to hunt down the prince. The same prince who literally disappeared off the face of the earth three years ago, but I’ll have to find him. In less than a day,” she groaned as Valentino bleated. “It was a figure of speech, Valentino no one can just disappear off of the face of the earth. Especially a prince. Someone has to know something, but who-,” She paused mid-stride as an idea made its way into her head and she grinned. “I think I just got an idea.”

Now Valentino looked curious, as Asha bid the rest of her birds farewell and began to make her way through the courtyard. 

She’d nearly reached the entrance to the secret passage when a sudden figure stepped into her view.

“Y-your Highness!” she stammered as she clambered into a curtsy. 

“Asha,” the queen had said with a small smile as she held a small single crimson rose. “I hope I wasn’t disturbing anything?”

“Of course not Your Highness,” Asha replied. “How may I be of service to you?”

The queen paused, shooting a glance around the garden before she stepped forward. She quietly took Asha’s hands into her own as she whispered, “I only come to ask you of something. It won’t be much because I know he’s given you a lot to worry about, but please- when you find Ignacio, tell him that there will always be a place here for him, regardless of what his uncle says…” Asha nodded, a bit taken aback by the grief and sadness that had washed over the queen’s face. “It’s been three years,” she murmured. “Please tell him to come home.”

“I will do my best to see to his return,” Asha promised, before giving the queen a small bow. 

“Thank you,” the queen said, withdrawing her hands before departing.

Asha wasted no time packing everything she’d need for the trip which was a short list that included: clothes, her storybook, her emergency kit, her drawing book, her apprentice papers, a few star maps along with a traditional map of Rosas, and her father’s old astrolabes.  

The only thing she needed now was food.

Quickly using the secret passages, she entered into the kitchen where Dahlia was now working.

“Dahlia!” she cried.

“Let me guess you need some food for your trip?” the girl had asked while wiping her hands on the apron.

“Yes! Wait…how did you figure that out? No, no let me guess- he was monologuing on his way to his study again, wasn’t he?”

“Yep,” Dahlia nodded. “He had a whole musical number with it.”

“Was it catchy?”

“Very.” 

“Great, now I guess I know what song everyone will be running into the ground for the next week,” Asha groaned.

Dahlia grinned, walking towards her with a bag of food. “Here you go,” she said as she handed it to Asha. “You’ll be needing it. I packed some stuff for Valentino as well.”

“Thank you,” Asha said, grateful for the assistance. “I’ll pay you back for this.”

“You don’t need to pay me back for this,” Dahlia replied as her voice grew quiet. “Just bring Ignacio back, please.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Asha promised. 

“And when you do, could you tell him?” Dahlia paused, her voice trailing off as she watched her cast a wary glance towards the door. ‘It was probably where the other apprentices were, Asha thought, as she placed the bag of food in her satchel. Then with a defeated shake of her head, Dahlia sighed, “Never mind. Just stay safe out there ok?”

“I will,” Asha said, offering her a small smile. “I’ll be back soon, and I’ll bring him home. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Dahlia said, before quietly taking her place next to the oven. The warm fire of the oven cast a soft glow on her features, as she closed her eyes. The wonderful scent of lemon cakes and croissants began to reach Asha, as she briefly took in the quiet serenity of the kitchen.

A lot of things had been left unsaid between them, she thought as she made her way to the stable. Things that she wasn’t sure if she’d regret not hearing before she’d embark. She’d known that out of the two markets, the more affluent one would be the more sensible and easy one to tackle with her remaining hours of daylight. Then tomorrow, she’d figured that she’d focus all of her energy on both the eastern market and the missing prince if she hadn’t found him before the night had ended.

She admitted that she’d been making a lot of promises lately. Promises she hadn’t been certain she could keep. But she’d try, if not for her own sake, then for the sake of the queen, Dahlia, and her family.

She’d made her way to the stable before she ran into two other apprentices- Bazeema and Safi. 

“You should take Sebastian,” Safi sniffled while pointing to the black horse. “He’s the fastest horse we have.” 

“Thanks,” Asha said. She was quite certain that he’d been more familiar with the horses here than her. When he wasn’t busy working with the king or the castle’s chickens, he’d often spend his time out here in the stables.

“Be careful out there,” Bazeema said softly as her dark eyes filled with worry. 

“I will,” Asha promised, trying to hide her surprise at their help. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the gesture, but part of her felt that it was done more out of concern for their friend than her. 

But Bazeema’s next words quickly put those thoughts to rest when she said, “If you go west…Try- try not to go into the forests ok?”

“What’s wrong with the forest?” Asha asked, actually halting as she looked at the girl curiously.

“W-well the last time I went out there, it felt different- but maybe that was just me.”

“The forests are always unpredictable,” the boy nodded. “Especially on the eastern side.”

That was to be expected, Asha thought. The eastern side of Rosas hosted the biggest wish garden- a place where people would go to send their wishes to the king. From there all were sent to the castle where a selected few would make their way forward, purely by chance, as the king had promised, to him. 

But the look of concern and fright on Bazeema’s face seemed so sincere that for a second Asha really began to consider whether or not it was a good idea to go.

Of course, it was, she nodded to herself.

She had to go if she wanted to be home for her Saba’s birthday, or help the people get their wishes granted or even get her project funded!

She was so close and she would not let anyone or anything get in the way of that. Magic or not.

Steeling her nerves, She’d carefully settled herself on the horse’s saddle, looking over everything as she made sure that Valentino was properly secured. 

“I’ll be back soon with the prince,” she told them. “You can count on it.”

“Good luck out there!” Safi said before sneezing into his elbow.

“Stay safe!” Bazeema called as they rode out from the stable. 

The wind whistled as it whipped through her hair, the warm breeze felt welcoming as she took in the sounds of the distant city. 

“Ready?” she asked the young goat, who’d bleated excitedly, and with that, she’d taken off, blissfully unaware of the trouble that soon awaited her.

[desertfangs]

Lesmond and the sentence "I fear our love is unsustainable"

So I am not going to manage to stick to 5 sentences basically ever and I gave up. Thanks for the prompt, anon! Feel free to send a pairing and first line and I will get to it sometime this week with a little ficlet or drabble!

"I fear our love is unsustainable.”

Armand froze in the doorway of the small balcony that jutted off the side of his bedroom, his feet bare on the soft carpet. He’d come out of the bathroom from trimming his auburn hair—he’d meant to do it when he’d awoken before he’d been so rudely distracted—and the words caught him off guard.

Instead of responding, he took in Lestat. He had a wistful expression, tanned hands holding the railing of the balcony as he looked out over the city. He wore a collared shirt, unbuttoned and whipping in the wind like his blond hair, and boxer shorts. Armand had been planning to drag him back inside before the neighbors saw him out there half-dressed and then he’d spoken. 

What a thing to say! There was love between them, yes, of course. They were brothers in the blood, as Daniel was so fond of saying, and what they’d just done… He could see the fading mark on Lestat’s thigh, just beneath the hem of his shorts. He looked at his own wrist where only the faintest hint of a bite mark still stained his pale white skin. But they hadn’t dared speak in such bold terms about it yet, not when this type of intimacy was still new between them. 

“You and Louis?” Armand asked, intentionally obtuse, leaning against the door frame. “Perhaps you should simply concede him to me.” 

Lestat shot him an irritated look and Armand had to suppress a smile. He was so very easy to rile up and Armand got such pleasure from doing so. “You would steal him from me. You’re a heartless creature,” Lestat said. 

Armand felt a slight sting at that. He didn’t dare show it. He smiled in the most sinister way he could manage and said, “A ruthless monster, in fact.” 

Lestat frowned, his lips curving downward. The tiniest crease appeared in his brow. “Do you ever worry you’ve taken on too much?” His characteristic cockiness was gone. 

Armand did, of course. He thought of Trinity Gate being filled with people during nearly every crisis. How he’d built and maintained a safe home for so many of the people he loved. But he wasn’t sure if that was what Lestat meant. “No,” Armand lied. “Do you?”

Lestat shifted from one foot to the other. Lestat didn’t answer. But Armand knew he did. He had been talking about the burdens of the throne just last night with Daniel, as they set up the conference room here so he could attend some meetings at Court remotely. So they all could. Anyone who might have need of it. 

Armand stepped onto the balcony. He moved behind Lestat, wrapping his arms around Lestat’s taught, muscular body. He was cool and solid, and Armand could smell his cologne, sharp and spicy. He breathed him in. He could almost smell the sun on his skin from his last tanning session. Such a strange thing for a vampire to do. Only Lestat would have the ability and choose to use it. 

Lestat leaned back against him, and Armand held him tightly. They stood there not speaking for several moments until Armand heard a door open from one of the houses next door. Trinity Gate was massive and his room was in the middle, but they would still see them plainly enough if they glanced over from their own balcony.

Armand pulled back and took Lestat’s hand. “Come, let’s go inside and get you dressed properly.” 

Lestat, for once, obeyed without arguing, although he pulled his hand from Armand’s and walked past him into the room. “First you want to tear my clothes off, now you want to dress me like a doll. Can you ever make up your mind?” 

“I want no such thing,” Armand said. Just because he’d bought Lestat a new wardrobe, it didn’t mean anything. He’d arrived with almost no clothes and Armand didn’t want him ruining things from Daniel and Louis’ closets. 

Lestat grinned as he went over to retrieve some of the clothes from last night’s shopping trip. “You’re a liar.” 

[endeavour12345fics]

The Aftermath, chapter 23

A few days after Christmas, Philip and Elisabeth met up near the Hufflepuff common room. As they were walking through the empty halls, they noticed that a classroom door was open. Philip entered the room first, wand ready for anything. Elisabeth followed him.

At first, they couldn’t se anything in the darkness. Then they noticed a strange reflection and approached it.

They lit up their wands, looking at the reflection. It was an enormous mirror, with an inscription carved at the top of its wooden frame.

“Can you read it? It seems strange, yet somewhat recognisable.” Elisabeth’s eyes were focused on it.

Philip looked at it, and it immediately made sense. “I show not your face but your heart’s desire.” he read, trying not to laugh at his friend’s baffled expression.

"How were you able to read it that fast? That's orientated from right to left."

"Perks of being left-handed." Philip answered with a smile.

Elisabeth didn’t reply. Instead, she looked like she’d seen a ghost for the first time.

“Elisabeth? What can you see?”

She didn’t look at him but grabbed his arm.

“I see my parents. Together and happy like… before what happened to my mother.”

“Did she die?” Philip asked, unable to stop himself. Elisabeth didn’t seem shocked by the question, so he hoped he hadn’t gone too far and ruined their friendship.

“Oh, no. She’s alive, but she’s in an asylum. I don’t want to say she’s mad, but she has… some issues.”

“I see. I’m sorry for asking, I should think before I speak.”

“It’s fine, really. I wasn’t expecting the question, it’s just that.”

He looked at the mirror and couldn’t prevent the lump that formed in his throat. Eleazar and Miriam were looking back at him, smiling and happy. He wished it was true, that they were still by his side, and not mere reflections of what he wanted the most.

“Philip?”

He could hear Elisabeth’s voice, but it was dimmed, as if she was far away. When she touched his arm, it broke the trance-like state he was in, and he turned to her, his eyes full of tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

“What did you see?”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He let himself slid to the floor and stayed there, hugging his knees. She sat with him, his hand on his shoulder, as the dam broke, and tears flowed.

“I saw Professor Fig and his wife, Miriam. I don’t remember if I ever told you, or if you heard it from someone else, but they took me in when I was younger. Last year, Professor Fig was finally able to adopt me. That’s one of the reasons why we were so close.”

“I’m so sorry.” She said, hugging him. He retributed the hug, and they stayed like that for what seemed like several minutes.

As they got up, Philip heard a noise from outside the room. “Let’s go. If it’s Peeves, we’re screwed.”

They waited to check if anyone was approaching, then parted ways, going in opposite directions.

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

Philip went to look for Sharp, to tell him what he’d seen. As he climbed up the stairs in the faculty tower, he saw Sharp entering his rooms.

“Professor! Something happened, I thought you should know.”

Sharp turned to look at him. “What happened? Come in, and we’ll talk.”

He allowed Philip to enter the room, closing the door behind them. The fire was already lit, warming up the room.

They sat down, Sharp giving Philip an inquisitive look.

“So... what happened?”

Philip told him as best as he could. How Elisabeth and he had seen the open door and decided to check the apparently empty, abandoned room. How they’d seen the mirror. When he mentioned the inscription, he could see that Sharp was thinking, but he said nothing.

Then came the hardest part: telling Sharp what he’d seen in the mirror. As he spoke, having to stop sometimes to catch his breath, Sharp nodded in an understanding manner, as if he was expecting it. As if he knew what Philip would have seen.

As Philip finished speaking, Sharp picked up his cane and got up from his armchair. Damn cold weather, he thought. As if it usually the pain wasn’t bad. “Would you like to show me the mirror?”

They left the room, with Philip leading the way. As they approached the classroom, Philip stopped next to the door. “If you want to, I’ll stay here, to give you some privacy.”

“You’re welcome to enter with me. In fact, having someone else in the room may make it easier.”

They entered together, and Sharp examined the mirror. He took his time reading the inscription, before looking at the reflective surface. Philip was a few steps to the side, unable to see it.

Sharp made a strangled sound, as if he was trying to repress tears. Philip walked to his side to try and comfort him, and then he saw it.

A younger Sharp, looking healthy, and another young person he could not recognise. By the badges on their lapels, Philip understood they were Sharp’s auror partner. The two of them seemed close, making what Philip knew about the incident almost unbearable to think about.

“Professor?” Philip asked, hoping Sharp could hear him. “Were they your partner?”

“Yes, this was William, my partner in my auror years. You already know what happened to him, and how I came to teach at Hogwarts.” His voice seemed devoid of emotion, as if he was trying his hardest to keep it together.

“Come, it’s getting late, and I still have some lesson plans to finish.”

Philip went to his common room, and Sharp went back to his quarters. He had work to do, but he couldn’t focus. The emotions he’d felt while looking at the mirror resurged, making him collapse into his armchair.

“I’m sorry, William.” he said, his voice inaudible among his sobs. “I should have known something was up, in that Scarborough dock. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

He allowed himself to cry, until he felt that he had run out of tears. Then he poured himself a firewhisky and picked up his lesson plans. He knew burying himself in work to force emotional numbness was a bad habit, but he wouldn’t break it anytime soon.

[paigelts05]

Witch, Seamstress, and MS [FNAF Renegade AU]

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/Witch-Seamstress-and-MS-FNAF-Renegade-AU-907504011

Published: Feb 19, 2022

Renegade AU, Y location characters reference sheet. Abnormal post date but 1 - this has been completed since before the release of Security Breach and I can't keep putting it off and 2 - yes I do have something planned for tomorrow. I needed to make a ref sheet of some characters that show up in my AU. They're pretty important, having been staff at the New York location (Y location) and Paul being another one of the Renegade AUs many phone guys. [I]The Phoenix tallon. A strange café owned by a mysterious man. It's a gathering place for the unnaturally talented and paranormally inclined. Paul Scott Alias: The witch Occupation: Café owner A former employee of Freddy's whose employment was terminated by almost getting killed by the animatronics. He says almost as even though he has a decapitation wound around his neck, he's still alive due to being taken to a strange hospital that in retrospect, may have been a lab. When he was almost killed, his hair had also been cut off at the neck, where his wound is, which makes him wonder how exactly his wounds were inflicted, but he does know that someone had found his hair at Freddy's, so he knows that whatever happened to his neck, it happened at Freddy's. As a Wiccan, he tends to talk to spirits more frequently than most non-posessed, but even they can't answer how he survived his 'Night 4'. He started his café and grew back his hair to try and forget about his former employment, the recordings he made in the fatal role of a phone guy, and the question that always lingers whenever he tries to remember how he survived: how long can the human body survive without a head? Olive Harper Alias: The Seamstress Occupation: seamstress Olive has always been a little bit rebellious. It comes part and parcel with being the little sister. She would always get Ophelia's hand-me-downs, and she'd tailor them to her liking so that she'd be more comfortable wearing them. Despite this, there was no grudge held between the sisters; Ophelia noticed that Olive got her hand-me-downs and begun to get clothes that fit Olive's tastes and didn't wear them so that Olive would get new clothes, as Ophelia already had more than enough. As they grew up, Olive begun to sew her own clothes from pretty much scratch. Whilst a turn from thier usual sneaky routine, Ophelia supported her sisters hoby, and they both supported each others strange love interests. Whilst Ophelia dated more mysterious men, Olive stuck to more strange but less dangerous people. They both had more than a few partners before they found someone they'd want to settle down with. Olive found a feminine man named Paul, who has an interesting taste in fashion who despite his tiny frame, he worked as a security guard for Freddy's. Meanwhile her sister was engaged to a peculiar man who works for the same place, just more higher up and in a different state. Olive and Paul were married in 1992, and whilst Olive was studying to become a professional seamstress, Paul was saving up to start a café. In the meantime, however, they needed money. Olive went to work at a lace factory as a mender, and Paul took up more shifts, including nights, as he was promised a pay rise if he did. Things went well for a while until August 1993. One morning, Paul just didn't come home. Olive knew that something was wrong and asked her sister to see if the person she was engaged to could help her. As Ophelia's fiancé was a head of security who didn't have a specific location despite his lurking around C location, he was able to help and during a busy segment of the day, let Olive sneak backstage. All she found was a bloodied bracelet that had been obscured by a box, but she found nothing else as she didn't want to touch the animatronic suits. Besides, there were no fully put together suits as the rumours suggested, and the room was clean. Clearly, he had been moved from here. She was distraught but didn't show it until she got home. The next few weeks were hell, as she didn't know if she should admit defeat or keep searching. The bracelet seemed to prove that he had been injured, and she was able to use that to file a missing persons report, despite her husband's employers protests. She was able to keep the bracelet as those who handled it reported feeling a weird sense of melancholy and dread - some tangible aura that they didn't want to be around - but Olive didn't get where they were coming from. All she felt was the sense that Paul was still out there somewhere. Two months passed until she got the news that Paul had been found at a hospital. More specifically, he had been transferred to a normal hospital from an unknown 'hospital' that upon further investigation, didn't exist. He was alive, conscious, but had large mysterious wounds and very little memory of the time between the night he vanished and his arrival at the hospital where he was found. Where that fake hospital was and what the wounds all were was all irrelevant to Olive right now; Paul was alive, and they were able to reunite. Meiko Shimamoto Alias: "MS" Occupation: Café staff A young woman who worked at Freddy's in the November of 1993. She was that locations equivalent of a Mike, as Y location was not fortunate enough to get a hundred percent name match on such short notice like C location was. Regardless, Meiko got the job and honestly sometimes wishes her name was different as a result. She was only able to make it through the week thanks to the phone calls left behind by a previous guard, and when she went backstage to check the empty heads as requested on the fourth night, all she found was a sliced off braid of smooth black hair that had been stashed inside a Freddy head. After quitting on night 7 before she even knew she was fired for someone else's tampering (they mailed her the pink slip after failing to hand it to her when she ran off crying that she was never coming back), she started looking for another job. And then she found a café had been opened recently and was being run by a pale looking man with long black hair that looks like it had been hacked off at a length that aligned to where his choker sat on his neck. She trusted her gut as all signs pointed to this man being the same one whose phone calls saved her back at Freddy's.

[jasper13]

Honestly, the more I think about myself as a kid, it amazes me that I didn’t realize I had autism until I was 31, despite being married to an autistic person and suspicious our oldest was on the spectrum.

-Fixed interests as a child- they varied some and came and went with various time frames, but I distinctly remember having to get everything with horses in K-2nd grade, but that was socially acceptable and a thing my peers also liked

—My stretch from roughly age 8-16 where my main interest was ancient Egypt, particularly mummification practices, not so much. I went through roughly 3rd and 4th fascinated by mummies in general, but by 5th or so, I’d honed in on Egypt specifically. In 8th grade, I made a whole room of boys cringe at my very in-depth explanation of mummification practices.

-I had a lovey. That’s not super strange, but I latched onto this pink rabbit my grandpa got me shortly before he died when I was 7. That pink rabbit became my end all be all. It went everywhere with me. It sat on my desk at school from 3rd-5th grades. In 3rd grade, he got decapitated by an asshole in 4th grade, and I had friends who were in another grade who informed me they could hear me crying and screaming in their classrooms. They thought someone had DIED. My mom sewed his head back on, and he continued to accompany me everywhere for years. 6th grade he still went to school with me, but I managed to keep him in my locker vs on my person. But if I didn’t have my rabbit, sleep was not happening. I would be fully distraught. In 7th or so grade, I got a similar attachment to a necklace I wore. I wore it until the loop on the charm wore through. That was 11th grade I think.

-I collected nail polish, but rarely did I ever paint my nails. But I’d get bottles of OPI and whatever I could get my hands on. I remember being 6 or 7 and stupid excited cause my mom let me pick out like 5 of those itty bitty nail polishes called BonBons. It was more for my collection. I’d pick out names for them from baby name books and write them on scotch tape and put the tape on the bottles. Then I’d crash in our bathroom with a blanket and play with them on the linoleum which was decorated in squares that were probably about 1”x1”. I’d line them up to get on the “school bus” (a section of floor I’d chosen), get them off to go to class (another section where each square was a desk). But nah, that’s normal.

-I got in trouble a lot for having a “smart mouth” from early childhood well into my teenage years. I’d get in trouble and literally not understand what I did wrong. But if you questioned that way, you got in trouble for back talking. So I was left confused by arbitrary rules that no one would explain or make make sense, and kept getting in trouble for answering things when it wasn’t my place or correcting people who I apparently shouldn’t. Or just speaking the truth no one wanted to hear.

-I spent more than my fair share of recesses hanging with teachers or older kids cause my own peers didn’t make sense. Teachers are fairly easy to please- make good grades, make the effort in school, be quiet, and don’t get in trouble. I was good for that. My peers were way more confusing.

-like many, I struggled in middle school. The friend groups in my class of 15 kids had been set long before I showed up. While I was allowed into the groups, I was caught on the fringes. I didn’t like soccer or sports, which was a major thing for the group of girls I orbited near. I distinctly remember my mom, one time when I was particularly upset about not having real friends, tell me that I should just pretend to like what they do, and then they’d be my friends. That felt inauthentic, not to mention hard, so I didn’t. But that was my mom’s advice- fake it. Don’t be yourself; be someone else.

-I was depressed and had anxiety probably from the age of 7. When my grandpa died I was a mess for days, straight up wailing at the graveside funeral, and I never really pulled out of it. I stayed some level of fragile in that realm for much of my adolescence. I was probably in my 20s before I could talk about his passing without crying.

-My wife flirted with me for months before she asked me out. I had no clue. It just 100% did not occur to me that she was being anything but nice. I had no clue she was even interested until she asked me on a date 2-ish weeks before semester finals.

-Once at a hotel, a grown man was struggling to get his key card to work. I was probably 10 or so. He asked me for help when I was coming back from the snack machine. I helped, nothing happened. I was so proud of myself, I went in and told my parents of the good deed I did. I proceeded to get torn.into. because that guy shouldn’t have done that, he should’ve asked an adult for help, I shouldn’t have helped him. At the time, I was just upset because I thought I’d done something good- helping someone as we’re always told to do- and here I was getting dressed down because of it. 100% confused the fuck out of me at the time. Of course, as an adult, I understand the issue, but at the time, I was just upset.

-Clothing tags. I was raised in the generation before tags were printed on clothing (and that has its own issues sometimes- sometimes they get rough and itchy). I cut all of the tags out of the right side of my underwear. T-shirts got the snip quickly. As did everything else. They would irritate me to the point of distraction.

-See also: private schools requiring monogrammed polo shirts. Why?

- See also: pantyhose. WTF is up with that toe seam?

-I cried during dress rehearsal for my one year of ballet/tap/jazz because we were required to not wear underwear under our tights for the performance. I was like…7?

-Also the “joy to have in class” stereotype. I did my work, paid attention, didn’t make a fuss, and was smart. I did my damnedest not to get in trouble. So yeah, I was a joy to have in class. I was easy. Asked for little and gave a lot.

-I distinctly remember working on homework in high school far past a logical bedtime, crying through the whole thing but it HAD TO BE DONE. My mental health be damned. And I HAD to take the advanced classes. In my defense, the “mainstream” classes were often boring AF but the extra workload of the AP, Pre-AP, Honors classes was too much for me in hindsight. Also who decided that classes with more advanced material have to have 3x as much homework?

-I self-harmed. Looking back now, I think it was probably a combination of depression and stimming. It was an aspect of my life I could control, I knew what it would feel like, and I found it soothing.

-GI issues since birth. Colic as an infant. Constipation in preschool. Lactose intolerance and IBS since I was about 9 or 10. I’ve had the blood tests, the colonoscopies, the barium x-rays, the CT scans…there’s not anything of note to cause the amount of stomach issues I have and the fact that I know every public restroom in a large swath of the city I live in.

I could go on. And I’ll probably add to this. Just cause I find it interesting.

[rarespawnwrites]

"I'm not a ghost, you maniacs!"

Danny's jaw hung open as he watched the old footage Tucker had dug up from a file on Danny he'd found on the Fenton parents' hard drive.

It was... an old-school Robin. Tiny, in an oversized yellow cape and a white-eyed domino that probably did nothing to help his case in his parents' one-track minds. He was lying on a metal table with restraints on each of his limbs.

"Silence, specter!" His dad boomed, his frame taking up most of the monitor's screen. Jack's size and volume caused the kid to flinch. "Normal humans can't switch from teenagers to toddlers!"

"I'm twelve, not two, jerkwad," Robin muttered, his voice only just caught by the sensitive mic. "You're really planning to take apart a toddler?" he asked, his voice louder. "Think about that, for maybe... two seconds! Or at least think about what Batman'll do to ya." His voice grew more strained and high-pitched as Jack held his arm still while Maddie drew blood with a horrifically over-sized syringe.

When she finally removed the needle, there was a whooshing noise followed by several loud crashes, and the lights went out. After several more alarming noises, the footage cut out.

Danny sat in the computer chair in front of Tucker’s monitor, frozen. Sam sat in a second chair next to him while Tucker sat on the edge of his bed. Tucker, having already watched the video, fiddled with his tablet as the others absorbed what they’d just watched.

“After that,” Tucker said, “the file mentions a bunch of tests they did with the tissue and blood samples they’d saved. One of their experiments was a cloning project, which resulted in you. After they concluded you had turned out a normal human, your file just… ends.”

Danny turned toward Tucker in disbelief. “So you’re telling me that not only am I a clone, I’m Robin’s clone?! The original child hero?” Tucker continued scrolling through his tablet, eyes glued to the text of whatever he was still looking into.

“That was the second Robin, not the original,” Sam said. “This is the one the Joker bragged about killing.”

“So I’m the clone of a dead child hero. Yeah, okay, that tracks.”

“Holy shit, dude,” Tucker blurted out. “Your parents did time at Arkham.” Both Danny and Sam whipped toward Tucker, eyes wide.

“There’s no way!”

“They got out after like, two months!” Tucker squeaked, equally disbelieving. “Their release forms are signed by some doctor named Hugo Strange.”

“He met the Fentons and thought they were SANE?!” Sam glanced at Danny and coughed. “Er, no offense.”

Danny shrugged. “No, you’re right. I guess you go strange once you work at Arkham.” Sam huffed, her lips quirking into a brief smile before she banished it in favor of her best deadpan expression.

Tucker finally looked up from his tablet. “I wonder if that Robin became a ghost. Maybe you could find him in the ghost zone? After all, wouldn’t he be like, your dad? Wait, doesn’t that make Batman your grandpa?!”

Tucker threw the tablet on his bed, standing up. He got into Danny’s space, pulling the collar of his t-shirt as he leaned in. “Danny! BATMAN owes you fifteen years worth of birthday presents! As your best friend, who has shared everything with you from infancy, that means Batman owes ME seven-point-five years worth of birthday presents.” Tucker’s eyes were a little wild. “Danny. Danny! Get. Me. Bat-tech!”

Danny barked a laugh. “Tuck, I’m not going to show up in Gotham with Batman’s dead kid’s face to demand child support in the form of cool gadgets.” He pried the collar of his shirt out of Tucker’s fingers before he could stretch it out too much. “I kinda wish I could meet the second Robin, but even if he is a ghost, don’t you think he might hold a grudge? My parents went all Vlad on him when he was a little kid!”

Besides, if Robin counted as his dad, wouldn’t that make Danny Dani’s dad? Yeah, no. Fifteen was too young to have an adolescent kid. Danny would not be calling this guy his dad anytime soon.

“Your creators, you mean,” Sam said morbidly. “Anyway, who says he has to be a ghost? If he’s your dad, maybe when he died he just… got back up again. You did.”

Danny facepalmed. “Sam, that was a lab accident. You set up that lab accident. Twice! Coming back from the dead isn’t genetic.”

“Isn’t it?” A new voice asked. It was an unwelcome, familiar voice. Belatedly, Danny’s breath fogged the air as Desiree came into view. “The second Robin is famous in the Ghost Zone,” she crooned. “Though he’s gone by a different name for nearly a decade now.”

Danny’s left eye twitched as he frantically ran through the recent conversation again, trying to figure out where they’d screwed up. Ah. Now he remembered.

“Oh, no,” he groaned.

Desiree’s laughter echoed. “Oh, yes! One former Robin, coming up! Enjoy the family reunion with your madman of a progenitor!”

Tucker’s room vanished, the clean blue walls replaced with a filthy alley and flickering streetlights. Danny hovered in his sitting position for a comical moment before crashing down on top of someone, who grunted before falling still. Danny rolled off the guy, sitting on damp concrete and reaching a hand behind himself to rub his sore back.

Then he saw the gun.

Danny was very aware of being in his human form as he sheepishly raised his hands in the air from his sitting position. In front of him stood the helmeted figure of the Red Hood, the infamous mass murderer, drug lord, and fugitive. He was a tank of a man who matched Jack Fenton for intimidating size and was leagues beyond him in intimidating muscle.

‘He’s just a human,’ Danny told himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. ‘He can’t hurt me, I’ll just go intangible.’

He breathed out, and exhaled cold mist. ‘Of course. Just my luck.’

‘Wait. Didn’t Desiree say she was sending me to the second Robin?’ With vain hope, Danny’s eyes flicked to the only other person in the alley. Blonde guy, fifties, balding, heavyset… There was no way that was the same person as the kid in the video. If that kid had grown to adulthood, he'd be in his late twenties.

He looked back at the crime lord, who hadn’t moved since Danny had looked up at him the first time. Probably because a fifteen year-old lookalike had just dropped out of the sky in front of him. Danny chuckled nervously.

“Hi Dad,” he said, instantly changing his policy on clones. “Nice to meet you. Please don’t shoot me?”

Danny lands at the feet of his cloning template, and in a desperate bid to not get murdered by said template, he gave a wry smile before saying, "HI, dad." He then used the moment of stunned silence to escape.

A week later, he regrets his decision as he walks down the stairs to find his template in his living room, interrogating his tied up parents.

[writefightandflightclub]

Once More With Feelings: (Santiago Garcia x fem!reader)

Summary: you, Santi, and Frankie have been best buds since high school, when the three of you would while away your days playing in the world’s most average metal band. But, when Frankie finds an old home movie of said band days in his dad’s garage, some memories -and some secrets- come to the fore. Secrets which recast everything you thought you knew about back then and now… and about one of your dearest friends in particular.

Genre/tropes: fluff, pining, all the good stuff.

Author’s note: this popped into my head and felt too cute not to share. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did! 🧡 Oh, and tell me how I did on the band name? 👀 😂 LOL.

Warnings: pining(?), kissing(?), unrequited love(?). Throwbacks to high school. Reader is the same age as the boys but you can imagine this being set when they were all younger (or older) than the canon, if you like, so I don’t think it matters.

Rating: TEEN (but my blog is 18+)

Gif by @nightofthecreeps

Your exuberant peals of laughter bounce off the walls of Frankie’s living room, and you slap your thigh as you fold forward in mirth. Beside you on the couch, Santi’s deep, scratchy chuckle sounds, tears being squeezed and planed from his eyes as the footage rolls.

On the other side of you, however, Frankie looks none too impressed.

The footage in question is an old home movie Frankie recently dug out of his dad’s garage, the VHS tape mysteriously marked only with the date: 1994. Recognising it as one of your old band practice tapings from high school back in the day, Frankie had scooped it up, and now the three of you were preparing to relive your pre-glory days.

You’d brought the popcorn, feeling extremely nostalgic and so ready to relive the golden years of your friendship with these two dumbasses; before they’d scarpered, leaving town -and you- for the army.

You’d rekindled your friendship with them since, and in some ways it felt like no time had passed at all, but you undeniably looked back on your time with them in high school as some of your happiest days (at least, so far).

You weren’t sure exactly what footage was on here (you really hoped that it hadn’t been taped over with Frankie’s parents getting frisky or some shit), but you had been so ready for the trip down memory lane - and so far it was not disappointing.

“Look!” you had exclaimed, pointing at the screen with your arm at full extension, vibrating with laughter as young Frankie had appeared on screen, flipping the handheld back towards his face. “Look at that haircut.” Then, you had batted Santi frantically in the chest with the back of your hand. “Is he wearing eyeliner?! Look at you, Frankie!”

Santi had joined you in the good-natured teasing, until the two of you had become a crumpled, giggling heap in the corner of the couch -surprise and delight responsible, more than anything, for your mirth.

“Alright, alright,” Frankie grumbles now as he rides out your mockery, even as a bright, misty smile of his own takes over his sharp features - as he contemplates his (increasingly far off) youth.

Video Frankie is gangly - his legs had seemingly grown in before the rest of him- and with his more delicate frame, his cheekbones are especially prominent. Even so, with that sharpness - all angles - he looks softer somehow. Still a little baby-faced.

“Welcome to our show!” he announces, in a pre-pubescent voice.

It’s so strange to hear him speak without the now characteristic deep rumble, and your eyes fill with sentimental tears, your hand clasping against your chest. “Frankie, you’re just a baby. So fucking adorable. I want to pinch your little cheeks.”

“We are…” -Video Frankie continues, leaving a dramatic pause for effect- “…Master of Muppets.”

Okay. Yes. In hindsight it’s not the coolest band name, but you remain defensive about the name to this day, and you personally won’t hear a bad word said about it.

From off screen, you hear Santi’s unmistakable voice - a little more gruff and deep than Frankie’s already, but definitely still possessing an adolescent timbre. Not as rich and confident as it is now. A little more goofy. “We’re not doing that today, pendejo.”

The sound of him - voice echoing in the vacant space of Frankie’s dad’s garage - makes memories of your childhood come flooding back. Things you’d long forgotten. Feelings and sights and smells and sounds.

Video Frankie swings the video camera around with little skill, the rest of his announcement pointing upward to his nostrils. “Oh yeah. Shit.” You can imagine the look he’s getting from Santi right about now - that kid took the whole band thing just a little too seriously. “Formerly of Master of Puppets, tonight we have our breakaway solo act. Santiago Garcia.” Frankie delivers his best rock face to the camera, waving his rock fist around chaotically and sticking out his tongue.

In the real world, the three of you exchange fond, face-splitting smiles.

“This is fucking beautiful. Though, I guess I’m not in this one, boys.” You pout in disappointment and Frankie pats your back in commiseration, reassuring you there’s a whole case of tapes somewhere- he’ll try and dig it out next time he visits home.

“How are you feeling in the crowd tonight, Carolina?” Video Frankie yells, before feigning distant crowd noise, and you can’t help but laugh with delight all over again. You turn towards him in the here and now, and you ruffle the pilot’s hair affectionately as he watches through his hands out of sheer embarrassment.

“I thought I was so cool.”

“It’s okay. Wait ‘til you see baby Santi,” you rib gently, earning a hey of protest from your left.

“Look. We all know I was the only cool one,” you snigger.

After a scuffle and a lot of footage of Video Frankie’s worn sneakers, the camera flips.

There Young Santi is, hopped up onto a tall bar stool, his acoustic guitar slung around his neck. The body of it is settled atop of one bent knee, his foot kicked up on the stool, and the other leg stretched out in front to steady him.

You squeal in delight when you see him, even as you hear him cringe and laugh and curse beside you.

Now, it is Frankie’s turn to revel in the throwback, a throaty, chaotic chuckle sounding to your right.

“Look at you! Both you boys are too precious for words.” Feeling emotional, you reach out and smooth your hand back and forth over Santi’s thigh as you continue to survey the screen. 90’s Santi, too, is more slight in frame compared to his older counterpart. Aside from a questionably shiny red leather jacket, he’s dressed in all black - a very era appropriate button down with a long, pointed collar and raw stitching, various beads and chains and possibly a cross or a shark’s tooth or something slung around his neck. His hair is long and lustrous, raven black and middle-parted, cascading curls framing that sharp, angled face. As ever, his strong brows and nose and jaw give him a striking, slightly surly appearance, balanced by those big brown eyes which are full of light and warmth and innocence.

It makes you tear up, honestly, and you weren’t all the way ready for it.

That kid on screen got you through a lot during your teen years. Frankie too, but Santi especially. More than you think you’ve ever had a chance to thank him properly for.

“Those eyebrows!” Frankie exclaims as Young Santi sits pensively on the stool, apparently full of teenage angst and knitting said full brows together.

“Eyebrow, more like,” Santi chuckles lightly - a little self-consciously. “Still a handsome fucker though. Kid’s got potential. Gonna really hit his stride around 40, I reckon.” He pats his own gut - a little fuller these days. He’s not wrong though - he does only seem to get more attractive with age.

You laugh warmly at here and now Santi’s commentary as you watch Young Santi strum and tune up.

“Oh, honey,” you say with a rush of deep affection, reaching out and scooping his hand up into your own and giving it a squeeze.

Meanwhile, Frankie laughs chaotically, as he studies the footage. “Why so fucking serious, hermano?” he mocks, given the kid’s sheer intensity.

“Fuck me. I don’t remember, do I? Maybe you were getting on my last nerve, huh?”

You hastily shush them both, waving your hands wildly as the Video versions of them pipe up again.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Young Santi asks tentatively, ducking his head to let his hair flow from where it is tucked behind his ears, allowing it to obscure a good portion of his face as he grows ever more bashful.

You crinkle your nose in confusion, shovelling popcorn into your mouth. “She? Who’s she?”

You turn to real-life Santi, and you catch him looking mildly horrified all of a sudden, his expression just as serious as his counterpart from the past. You flick your gaze to the right to see if you’re missing something, but you find Frankie obliviously shovelling popcorn into his mouth, a hapless grin still plastered on his sweet face.

“Dude, I’ll give you fifty fuckin’ bucks if this works,” Video Frankie offers.

Here and now Santi’s voice cuts in, urgently, confusing you even more. “Turn it off, Frank,”

“Oh sure. Now that you’re done teasing me? You can dish it but can’t take it?”

“Frank,” Santi emphasises through his teeth, and when that plea is to no avail, he reaches (almost dives) across your lap to make a play for the remote - Frankie managing to scoop it up first and keep it just out of reach.

“What is going on?” you puzzle. “Jeez. Don’t tell me you had a crush on my mom or something. Gross.”

“Frankie,” Santi emphasises again, pointedly, and with no clues at all from the present, you try to tune back into the past for clues.

“You actually press record this time? If we get this done we can mail it to her tomorrow,” Young Santi says, clearing his throat and preparing to play as Frankie plays with camera angles - zooming and panning in a way which suggests he’s taking this approximately 20% as seriously as Santi is.

“Sing songs, get bitches,” Frankie yells enthusiastically.

Here and now Frankie, however, sucks air through his teeth at that. “Christ. That’s no way to talk about a lady, young man. You clearly still have some lessons to learn,” he scolds, and the contrast between the two versions of him amuses you greatly.

Still, you sense there’s something you’re missing here. With nothing forthcoming from your buddies, however, you opt to continue watching, captivated as Young Santi starts singing. You expect a chaotic heavy metal thrash -as that’s what he usually favoured- but this is something else altogether.

This? This is a schmaltzy ass love song.

You watch as Young Santi strums and picks his guitar gently, his voice sounding out, pure and innocent and smoother than it is now as he works through the delicate notes and falsetto of the song; clumsily, but with feeling.

With so much feeling.

“I’m serious. That’s enough now, Frank,” Santi pleads to your side, with an intensity that doesn’t quite match with what you’re seeing. It’s not that embarrassing. You’ve seen Santi do worse. Recently. At karaoke. In front of people.

You ignore him for now though, concentrating on how damn earnestly Young Santi is singing. His eyes -you can see when Frankie zooms in for an ill-timed close-up- are positively shimmering with emotion. His mouth is curling up into a gentle smile around the words as though he means each and every one so fully.

God. It’s a relief you weren’t there for this at the time, as you know this performance would have ended the 15-year-old version of you. He’s looking at the camera how you wished he would have looked at you, way back then. When your carefully buried crush on him was most out-of-control.

And now, remembering all of this, you just have to know who he was feeling this way about, while your were feeling this exact way about him. You have to know the reason you and he never-

“-For real. Who was she?”

Who is he singing about? Singing to? In all the years you’ve known him and all the relationships he’s had, you’ve never seen him look quite so smitten.

“Alright. I’m not doing this,” Santi grumbles, standing and marching out of the room in a strop. You call after him but he bundles through the house, out towards Frankie’s rear porch. And he doesn’t come back.

You turn immediately to Frankie for some explanation, completely lost off now - especially as Frankie seems so damn casual about the whole affair.

“Errr,” Frankie moves some pieces around in his head. “That’s the summer you went away with your dad, I think?” he says breezily. “Yeah. Explains why you’re not in the video. God. Santi had reached peak pining levels by then. He was so smitten with you, remember? He was fucking insufferable the whole break.”

Wait, what?

“Frankie?” you say, aghast, shaking your head and not quite understanding. Wondering if you’ve misheard him.

When Frankie looks at you and reads your expression, the ball finally drops and his expression drops in turn, to match your own. “Shit. You didn’t know,” he realises.

You swallow. You need to be very sure about this. “Didn’t know what, Francisco?”

Frankie’s mouth drops open and closes wordlessly. He looks at you helplessly, leaving Video Him and Young Santi to answer the question for you.

“It’s never gonna work man. She’s just not into you.” Video Frankie states from behind the lens.

Young Santi is still captured in the frame, the camera zoomed in almost comically close, yet somehow it isn’t funny any more. It is zoomed in close enough that you are able to capture every nuance and micro-expression fleet over his face. Every shred of fear and hope and insecurity and adoration becomes wildly apparent to you. “It has to, man. It has to. I love her, so much.” Then, as if only just realising he’s still being recorded, he looks right down the lens, a nervous, giddy, pure smile taking over his face. “Fuck. Turn that off, dipshit.”

Meanwhile, your eyes flit around the room and you feel suddenly adrift, a million and one emotions swimming in your stomach. Even all these years later, this confession -the one you had always hoped for back then- is like a punch in the gut.

Some things -looking back- suddenly make a hell of a lot more sense. Many more pieces drop into place, and so, with a rush of nerves and adrenalin, your gaze flits between Frankie, the screen, and the door. “I didn’t know,” you confirm flatly.

Frankie runs a hand through his scruff, all of a sudden looking sheepish. “Well, shit. I probably should have turned this off.”

You simply give him a look.

***

When you make your way out to the back porch the air is balmy and still, no sound but crickets lightly chirping in the yard, and now, the sound of Santi’s deep sigh as he hears you approach, the wind chimes tinkling as you swing the door.

Santi is folded over the wooden porch rail. His forearms are leaning on the bar and his hands are laced together, his head dipped down so it almost meets them - as if he wants to hide from something.

Maybe from you.

You approach him tentatively, folding your arms around your middle for comfort and keeping your footsteps light so as to be less intrusive. As if that will make up for the question you’re about to ask. A question that feels Earth-shattering, but which comes out in little above a whisper.

“You were in love with me?”

You weren’t expecting the break in your voice, but maybe that’s the thing which finally gets Santi to stand up straight and turn towards you, his eyes turbulent and mouth pinched small with some kind of emotion.

He scoops a hand over his jaw in a self-comforting gesture, before sniffing once and nodding his head almost imperceptibly - in barely there confirmation.

Okay.

Your brow furrows as you adjust to this new information. As you reconfigure just about every memory you share with him -around that time- in your head. Your eyes grow busy with a multitude of questions; but the order doesn’t seem to matter so much, and you land quickly on your first. “Since when?”

Santi swallows. Tugs in a deep breath. His expression becomes apologetic and a little more boyish, as though you’re taking him right back to those days. Making him feel awkward and lost, when he’s usually so confident. You know he won’t enjoy that. In fact, he rubs the nape of his neck nervously. Shuffles from foot-to-foot a little. “Pretty much since that first time you sat next to me in home room and passed me a stick of gum,” he confesses. “Orbit. Peppermint flavour.”

Emotion tightens in your chest at the fact that he would remember that. You don’t remember that. Your face crinkles. “I thought we met for the first time at Frankie’s house party?”

“No,” he corrects gently, with a soft and wistful smile. “That was just the first time I actually managed to speak to you.” You smile fondly. Who knew Santi was ever shy? Around you? “I spent about four months before that learning guitar to impress you; then I was finally ready to choke out a respectable hello.”

You smile softly at this new information.

“You sucked at guitar,” you tease fondly, and he finally looks up at you instead of at his boots. Against the odds, you manage to stoke a small smile at one corner of his mouth.

“Yeah. Well,” he shrugs, tilting his head to the side in concession.

You think for a moment, processing. Landing on your next question. You can’t place why, but you feel increasingly nervous, like you’re 15 again too. Like you’re barrelling towards something inevitable. Something that will shake the foundations of everything you thought you knew. “Why didn’t you send the tape?”

Santi pauses again, as if every small confession is an effort. “None of the takes were good enough.” He frowns. Always was a perfectionist. “Besides. You came back from summer break on Brandon Cheng’s arm, remember?”

You stifle an amused smile. Santi should be over this by now, right? All these years later? But his voice still contains a hostility for Brandon which sounds every bit current. Damn. You guess the man really does hold a grudge.

Still, despite his bitterness, he looks so vulnerable in this moment. So vulnerable that you are desperate to reach out to him - and yet you can’t make your feet move from the spot.

“Oh yeah,” you nod in understanding, clasping your hands in front of yourself. “Right. I forgot about Brandon.”

Your friend pumps his eyebrows indignantly, like he really didn’t. No wonder Santi had always been so snitty with the poor kid.

God. You see it now. You see it still lingering there. The same emotions and micro expressions from the video flitting over his face in turn. You really must have hurt him. He really must have loved you, for it still to linger.

“Santi,” you breathe, finally taking a couple of gentle steps closer to him, trying to capture his gaze with your own and lift it from the floor.

“Alright,” he breezes - a clear attempt to seem non-chalant. To hastily put an end to this. “That’s about enough nostalgia for me for one day. Shall we head inside and watch Predator now?”

You watch him push everything back down.

And, now that you’re looking for it, you suddenly realise how many times you’ve watched him push everything down, even if you wouldn’t have recognised it at the time. You guess he got real good at doing that. You guess he started early. Practised hiding it from you until it became second nature.

It’s all beginning to make sense.

Santi turns to go then with a whole lot of bluster, and yet you feel like something isn’t quite done here. You feel like there’s a little more of this thread to unravel, and so you capture his arm with the gentlest of touches, looping your grip around his wrist. Apparently that’s the barest encouragement he needed to stay, and you halt him in his steps.

“Santi,” you repeat, searching his eyes and finding old pain hiding there. “Why? Why did you never say anything?

“It doesn’t matter,” he says flatly, a break in his voice now too. Cracks beginning to form. “It was a long time ago, right?”

It does matter though. You can see plainly that it still matters. This clearly hurt him - and you have never wanted to hurt him.

Maybe that’s why you ask your next question. You feel like if you can map this all out, maybe you can do something to fix it. Tell him how you were pining for him too. Do something to heal the same old wounds that you carried too in secret.

But, if that’s the reason, it doesn’t explain why your heart is beating in your neck as the words slip past your lips. It doesn’t explain why you’re so nervous to hear the answer. “How long, Santi? How long did you feel that way?” The words catch on hooks in your throat, and you’re inexplicably tearing up. “W-When? When did you… stop?”

When did he stop?

Santi’s eyes snap suddenly back to yours then, his eyes wide with nerves and fear and confession. His jaw writhing and mouth pinching together with tension. His head shaking imperceptibly like he’s begging you not to go there. Begging you not to push this. Not now. Not any further.

And then, it hits you.

Hits you like a ton of bricks.

He never did stop.

He tries to turn his face away from the knowledge in your eyes, but urgently, your palm captures his cheek, feeling the rough grain of stubble beneath your fingers, and your eyes searching his with one -and only one- remaining question.

Is it true - is he in love with you, still?

Santi, for his part, reaches up gingerly upon seeing that his game is finally up, placing his warm, rough hand on top of yours where it rests on his cheek. A gulp trails down his throat and he sniffs again, his eyes shimmering with apprehension and apology, but at the same time glowing with something deeper too. He begins to nod ever so slowly, tiny movements of his head which silently answer your question as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes big and beautiful and earnest. “I… I didn’t stop.”

It is only when he finally says it out loud that you are able to gasp in a breath, your palms coming to clamp over your mouth, your eyes brimming with tears as you reconfigure… everything.

You take two steps back from him. From your friend. From your best friend. Who all this time…. All this time has been…. Who you’ve….

Fuck.

All this time.

Your hands trembling, you lower them from your mouth and you search Santi’s face again. That handsome, oh so familiar face.

For a moment, you have absolutely no idea what to say.

“Fuuuuck,” he says hoarsely, his voice small and thin. “Please say something.” And then: “Actually, you know what,” he shuffles from foot to foot. “Don’t say anything. I… Fuck. Just forget I said that.”

But it’s too late for that, isn’t it? You see it now.

How he’s looking at you.

How he’s always looked at you.

And suddenly, even though you feel like the porch is spinning a little from these spiking nerves, like you need to reach one arm out to hold on to the rail so your trembling legs do not give out from under you, it becomes eminently clear to you.

You know exactly what it is you want to say.

“Tell Morales he owes you fifty bucks, idiota.”Santi looks at you blankly for a moment, blinking rapidly in confusion and trying to catch up. “Your song worked, Santi,” you explain softly. “You got the girl.”

Then it’s happening.

With a gasp of air all his own, Santi wastes no more time. He reaches his palm out to your cheek, and as soon as his touch is on you everything ignites. You close the remaining distance, then with a surge and a crush his lips are slanting against yours, his tongue leading and slipped into your mouth in a way that makes your toes curl and your legs weak. His broad, gentle hands are clutching at your back and he’s kissing you urgently yet tenderly. He’s kissing you like he’s already loved you -and longed for you- for a lifetime.

In truth, he has, and it turns out that’s just how long you’ve loved him back.

With his practised tongue, Santi opens you up, his plush lips working diligently against yours and sending an insistent warmth blooming through your whole body.

His song worked. A few decades too late on delivery, but still. Maybe back then would have been too soon for you both. Maybe you had some lessons to learn first; but either way, it could not feel more right that it is finally happening.

So, when Santi pulls back to look at you, spent from that toe-curling kiss, tears of pure joy are smattering his cheeks. You swipe them away tenderly with the pad of your thumb, awed that you get to finally do this with him. To show him how you feel. Awed that it means so much to him too.

You worry it’s still hurting him somehow - that maybe he’s thinking about all that time wasted. However, just as you begin to grow concerned, and before anything sad can creep in, Santi’s face splits in a joyous, self-satisfied grin. “Who’s laughing now, Brandon Cheng?”

You laugh brightly, his comment entirely unexpected, and you loop your arms around his sturdy middle. “Seriously? That’s what you’re thinking of right now?”

Santi’s eyes glow gently with awe as you hold him in the way he’s always dreamed of, and as your happiness envelops him. “No,” he admits, his hand moving to cup your cheek with an unprecedented tenderness - one which makes you ache. “I’m thinking how you were so worth the wait.”

Happy tears shimmer in your eyes but before they can fall, Santi kisses you again. And again. And again.

You have so much lost time to make up for, and you’ll be happy if he never stops.

Turns out, he never did stop; loving you.

[variousqueerthings]

okay so another 12 episodes into season 6 and I’ll say a few overall things

1. Margaret this season is glowing! she’s crying! she’s being vulnerable! she’s opening up to Hawkeye especially!!!! she’s got a friend who’s a woman!!!!!!!!!! (did anyone else get a biiit of a lesbian feeling between the two of them? Margaret you’ve changed -- I loved you -- I love you)

And: that double episode where she and Hawkeye are lost in the middle of nowhere and end up presumably having sex -- I feel like the show is predicting all my tastes and needs??? the fact that they do have sex (which I did suspect would happen) and at a time like that where they’re both incredibly scared, and off the back of them leaning emotionally on each other during some incredibly tough times (Hawkeye telling her about Kyung Soon, Margaret telling him about Donald), the fact that Margaret -- being in a very emotionally vulnerable position + always battling against what she wants with what she feels is expected --  leans into the interpretation that it means they’re in love/starting a relationship, the falling out when Hawkeye eventually overcomes the awkwardness and tells her that he didn’t see the situation like that (and neither did she, she’s just following a script), the falling out, and the final scene!!!??? where they talk it out and realize they’re on the same page actually, and genuinely like and respect one another as friends?????? never did I think! it would go down like that!! (I’ve been ruined by all these stories about compulsory romance and sex = romance and the main guy and the main girl get together every time, to think it could be this good!?)

Also what was the intention of the framing when Margaret takes the block of wood out of Hawkeye’s thigh and he’s squirming around, because it sure looks like she’s ******* him (which... also correct and right)

hers and Hawkeye’s friendship has been especially gratifying to watch this season, as I’ve been hoping and waiting for it since the beginning, but I love seeing her open up to others -- last episode her girl friend (girlfriend) Lorraine told her that she ought to trust herself to become friends with her colleagues and she nervously asked BJ and Charles if they’d have coffee with her and of course they accepted, because Margaret is a fucking delight!

2. and then we had a series of episodes which had various degrees of serious, but mainly seemed to give lots of wonderful family dynamics (including the episode Mail Call Three which had two actual “family”s in there!) -- I almost feel too safe, like something terrible is waiting around the corner (oh yeah, the war...) -- but until then we got some wonderful stuff

- the episode where BJ has to call Peggy, just because he wants to know that she still “needs” him at all 

- the whole Olympics episode

- Radar feeling strange about his mother dating a new man, and Hawkeye talking about his father (and Radar joking a bit about the idea of their parents getting together, which was such a sibling energy moment)

- Margaret choreographing making sure that Hawkeye and BJ get hosed down + running over Charles’ trumpet! (and everyone cheering her)

- Klinger and Mulcahy going out on a mission to find stolen penicillin

- too many “Potter is dad” moments to count honestly

- Hawkeye and Potter immediately springing to action to help Margaret figure out if she’s pregnant, and on her terms (not making it official)

- and especially Klinger, both with the divorce and talking about how much he loves the 4077 (if not being in Korea) and with the episode where he accidentally throws out Margaret’s ring.

3. speaking of the episode with Margaret’s ring (and Margaret), both me and my partner feel like in this season the airing date order was clearly not completely in tune with some of the development -- especially Margaret who definitely has a “before Comrades in Arms” and “after Comrades in Arms” (heh I just got the joke in the title) feeling to her + the fact that the new surgical clamp they have to travel to show in those episodes apparently doesn’t get invented until three episodes later!

Going to make a note of Margaret progression and rejuggle the season so next time I watch it, I get to feel more of that development!

4. “Temporary Duty” gave us:

- the aforementioned Margaret and Lorraine! the Feelings of it all! Margaret is just life! (do you think they ever... 😳😳😳 👉👈)

- Charles development! He and BJ banding together! For a moment the walls were down! And hopefully a taste of a wonderful future friendship!

- the scene right at the end where Hawkeye returns and is so upset that nobody liked him at the other place, and has a “oh no that’s my insecurities” moment when Charles and BJ joke that they didn’t miss him at all, before Charles hugs him and BJ then practically tackles the both of them to the floor in affection! (screams and cries, my boys!)

[c-53]

Like ok

the game starts off with Durandal hitting a breaking point and being so desperate to get off the Marathon, that he does the equivalent of waving down the first car he sees in hopes they MIGHT help him. He had no way of knowing who he was waving down, what they might do, or how they’d react to him. Theres no way he could have predicted how much danger he’d put everyone in, he was just desperate, and saw that for Once, he had an option.

Yet when he owns up to calling the Pfhor to the marathon in m2, he sort of. Plays up his involvement a bit. He takes full responsibility, and basically says ‘i don’t know if you forgive me for that, and don’t really care. We have more important things to worry about’ and goes on helping humanity survive the continued attack however he can, without going back to a chain of command, or direct servitude. He SAYS its because “some strange loyalty” because humans are useful to him. The loyalty part is true, but also it sounds a lot like guilt. The lives he took directly are nothing compared to what the Pfhor did, but he treats both as if he did it knowingly.

But going back to the marathon. He flagged down a shady truck, and left the whole ship at the mercy of the less than altruistic Pfhor, and ended up under siege by them as well, but. There *were* some people in that metaphorical truck who empathized with him, who were also slaves against their will, desperate to get their freedom. And they help durandal, and in turn, durandal helps them, and it doesn’t stop there. The transaction is complete, both are free of the debt they owe. The s’pht released Durandal and helped him take control of the ship they came on, and Durandal coordinated the death of their master, and gave them a ride out of there.

But Durandal keeps helping them. He brings them back to their homeworld to try and reconnect with their lost history, and what remains of their people. Durandal SAYS its selfishness, that his scientific curiosity in their culture and technology makes him entirely self motivated, like he’s just using them. But it makes no sense. He could have gone alone, he didnt have to pick a fight with their former masters, and didn’t have to awaken their old ai god and reunite the s’pht and s’pht’kr, but he did, and then perhaps the most damning thing. When the s’pht’kr show up and are like ‘WOAH WOAH WOAH THESE GUYS ENSLAVED YOU?’ And start ripping the pfhor apart, they’re just. Entirely chill with Durandal. He���s good in their book. Y’know. Harsh and cruel leader durandal, merciless durandal, evil ai durandal. He’s totally fine. The s’pht are just like ‘thats our buddy, he’s fine’ and the s’pht’kr completely leave him alone

Theres also how Durandal keeps the security officer around and frames it as possessiveness but like every time he scoops up the security officer against his will, he’s literally saving the him from certain death. He clearly likes the guy too, he’s just got fucking issues, and refuses to be a tool for humans anymore, so the alternative he migrates to is commanding them

But also he’s a massive dick

I should go on a rant about the whole ‘actions speak louder than words’ idea applied to durandal, bc its really funny to compare what he’s done, with how he justifies his actions. Stripped of how much of an asshole he is, he’s just a good dude. Like.

Ooooh you’re so scary and violent and you only care about yourself, anyone you help along the way is only collateral, or to further your own goals sure sure sure. Listen man, we all saw you helping get cats down from trees and helping old ladies cross the road, like. We know.