#it’s not That big of a deal cause they mostly lived a thousand years ago of Course they’re dead but

[maldito-arbol]

Forgot to post these little goobers with chapter 9 so here they are now, and while I’m at it, here’s a doodle dump for my tumblr peeps who are starved for content

I may or may not have been brainrotting over the gems because of the upcoming Strength chapter shhhhh

Plus a little doodle of Pozole, who you will also meet in Strength chapter. He appears in exactly 2 scenes and will never appear again but i love him so much

[random-iz-stuff]

I'm curious to know your opinion on the theory that Irkens were a prey species before making contact with the Control Brains. It's one of my favorite theories, but I'm always curious to know if other people find it far-fetched.

I believe in this theory as well. I just like it.

My headcanon regarding ancient irkens is that they were a prey species for most of their history up until the irken equivalent of the Iron Age.

Irken history headcanons under the cut.

Ancient Irk was an interesting location. The surface of the planet was consistently colder than the average temperatures on earth, but wasn’t quite cold enough to freeze water most of the time. I’d say the average temperature constantly hovered around 5 degrees Celsius (for comparison, Earth’s average temperature is 13.9 degrees Celsius, and 0 degrees Celsius is where water freezes). Cold and difficult to survive, but not impossible. Irk also had seasons, with irk winters dipping far below freezing.

But under the surface of Irk is where things get really interesting. Ancient Irk had absolutely MASSIVE cave systems stretching all across the planet. Unlike the cold surface, these caves were mostly warm, especially in the deeper ones that are further away from the cold surface. You practically had a whole different world down there. These caves are where irkens originated from.

Irkens looked mostly the same back then, but had one major difference to modern irkens (besides the more primitive looks):

They had wings.

Ancient irkens had dragonfly-like wings that they used for traversing the expansive cave systems that they lived in, along with using them to escape predators. And boy did ancient irkens have predators.

Ancient Irkens regularly had to deal with predators of all kinds. One creature that modern irken historians discovered was a gigantic creature that looked almost identical to Earth Hamsters. These creatures lived on the cold surface of Irk, and would travel into the cave systems underneath the planet when winter rolled around. Ancient Irkens were so frequently preyed upon by these things that Modern Irkens still have an instinctual fear of them, despite the fact that they went extinct countless years ago. Zim’s fear of Peepi is an example of that instinctual fear. It’s not just Zim being Zim. He sees a hamster and his brain immediately starts yelling at him to get as far away from the predator as possible. Any irken would fear that same primal fear in that situation.

Modern Irkens actually have a lot of deep down primal fears that come from their origins as prey. It’s just that all of the creatures that cause that primal fear are long extinct. But as seen with Peepi, animals that look similar enough can still cause this instinctual fear.

This isn’t to say that Ancient Irkens were at the bottom of the food chain however. Irkens are omnivorous, and even though they survive off of nothing but carbohydrates (sugars, sugar substitutes, flours, starches and honey) now, back then Ancient Irkens had a much more varied diet, eating anything they could gather or catch.

Pretty much the entire Irken Stone Age was spent underneath the planet’s surface, being preyed upon by various creatures. But that all changed at near the end, as Irk went through a massive change.

That change was a massive heat wave lasting for several thousand years. Think “the earth ice age, but reversed”. The planet’s temperature soared to never before seen temperatures and winter completely disappeared, resulting in several large changes all across the planet.

The first big change was the extinction of many species, especially the creatures that lived on the planet’s surface. The sudden switch from cold temperatures to warm temperatures resulted in the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of different species that simply weren’t built to handle the heat. This included a large amount of predators, along with almost all of Irk’s ancient megafauna.

The second big change was to the entire planet’s underground. It started heating up fast. The underground was already the warmest place on Irk and retained heat extremely well, so the sudden increase in temperature essentially made the giant cave systems into giant ovens. Many creatures died out from the heat, especially larger predators. This sudden increase in heat is also what got Ancient Irkens to the surface, as tribes of them migrated to the surface to escape from the heat of the caves. It was still hot on the surface, but it was cooler than the caves.

When Irkens officially started living on the surface, a turning point considered to be the beginning of the irken Bronze Age, they still weren’t done with being preyed upon. Despite the extinction of many different predators, irkens were still far from the top of the food chain, and predators that were able to survive the ongoing heat wave still preyed upon irkens, with irkens unable to do much to consistently kill threatening creatures. Their primitive weapons could kill a few smaller predators, but were ineffective against larger threats, especially the hamster-like creatures mentioned before, as they survived the heat wave with relative ease and were now even more common than before since irkens were now living on the surface, where these things spend most of their lives.

Not all Irkens left the caves when it started getting hot however, and the many that stayed had similar experiences, but the biggest threat was heat instead of hamster-creatures. Still a hard existence though.

The Irken Bronze Age was mostly spent like this. Irkens were prey, but they had basic metal weapons and could defend themselves now. They were still preyed upon, but were slowly becoming harder to hunt. The construction of walled cities also made things harder, especially since these walls often had no doors or surface level entrances, as the Winged Irkens of old could just fly over the wall.

Near the end of the Irken Bronze Age came the end of the endless heat wave. The planet started cooling down to its usual 5-ish degree Celsius average temperatures, the underground started cooling down, all that. This resulted in the extinction of even more creatures, which had become accustomed to the higher temperatures and were taken by surprise when the temperature started dropping.

The beginning of the Irken Iron Age was the turning point for the entire Irken species. The invention of stronger tools and weapons made from stronger materials made Irkens finally able to take the fight to the predators. The Iron Age also marks when armour became widely used by irkens, made of thin metal plates that protect the wearer while also not making them too heavy to fly.

All these advancements meant that Irkens could now semi-consistently kill much larger predators, a fact that Ancient Irkens around the world used to their best ability. The Iron Age is known for the hunting of large creatures, with a large majority of the things found from that time period depicting mighty irkens hunting down and killing monsters of all shapes and sizes. It took a while, but Irkens eventually managed to get themselves to the top of the food chain, driving many of their former predators to extinction, including the hamster-beasts.

However, irkens were still hunted by a few particularly dangerous creatures. Creatures that sat at the absolute top of the food chain until they were eventually finally driven to extinction thousands of years later when things were finally invented that made irkens strong enough to challenge them, mainly the invention of gunpowder.

[robininthelabyrinth]

JGY and NMJ post-canon, as fierce corpses sealed up together in that coffin (as per novel), get freed from the coffin and go to Cloud Recesses on Baxia because NMJ is fed with having that little snake around all the time.

ao3

“I can’t believe you actually managed to get us out of there,” Jin Guangyao said when they reached air again.

“I can’t believe you’re still talking,” Nie Mingjue growled, his voice still raspy from the whole decapitated head business, which he was still taking far too personally in Jin Guangyao’s opinion. He’d already been dead at the time! It wasn’t like Jin Guangyao had caused him any additional pain by the dismemberment!

Anyway, Nie Mingjue had unexpectedly turned into a terrifyingly powerful fierce corpse – contrary to everything that should have happened, did he just skip the whole soul-calming rituals that all children of the gentry were supposedly getting? – and there had simply been no other alternative that would keep him from murdering Jin Guangyao right then and there.

Possibly, Jin Guangyao allowed, that was the problem Nie Mingjue had with it.

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve done nothing but talk since we got stuck in there!”

“It’s my finest talent –”

“Lying and deceit are your finest talents.”

“And those require talking!”

Nie Mingjue shoved Jin Guangyao as he tried to climb out of the coffin. He tried to catch himself with one hand, forgot that he didn’t have that arm anymore, and tumbled to the ground.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’d realized some time ago that their sentience depended on regularly interacting with each other, and that without regular conversation they would both begin to lose their minds and revert to ravening beasts, Jin Guangyao swore that he would have murdered Nie Mingjue and torn apart his body a second time over.

“I should’ve ripped off your tongue instead of your arm,” Nie Mingjue complained. “I’d have had a happier afterlife if I did.”

“Too late now,” Jin Guangyao grumbled, getting up. It was very strange, being a fierce corpse. “I liked you better when you were wholly consumed with rage – oh, wait, that’s what you’ve been like the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

The prohibition on the coffin had been broken, but there was still one around the ruined temple to keep people out and evil creatures, a category currently including the two of them, although Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue would argue that Jin Guangyao had always been included in that category. He might even be right, who knew? 

At any rate, they needed to break the prohibition to get out. Jin Guangyao tossed himself down on the ground to wait while Nie Mingjue examined it.

“Why did you start talking?” he asked idly. “I’ve always wondered. When I died, you were completely mindless.”

“Who knows?” Nie Mingjue said distractedly. “Maybe all you need for sentience is to marinate in rage for long enough.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why? Works for the sabers.”

Jin Guangyao opened his mouth, then found he had nothing to say. He supposed that it did.

“Why did you always have so much rage, anyway?” he complained. “I understand the bit about your father being murdered, and of course your stupid cultivation style encourages it, but you always seemed especially irritated about everything.”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “You remember that I’m misaligned, right?”

“So what? Being misaligned makes you more of a shithead?”

“No, dealing with your father made me more of a shithead.”

Jin Guangyao considered the practicalities of having to deal with his father while possessing a physically female body and shuddered. It really wasn’t worth considering, especially since Lanling Jin did not believe in or especially respect Qinghe Nie’s tradition of misaligned souls. “Wait,” he said a moment later. “He knew? Why did he know?! I didn’t know, and I worked for you for years!”

“You worked for me as an adult, you dolt. He met me when I was still young.”

Jin Guangyao thought about it, then grimaced. “I can’t even imagine you as a little girl.”

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

“…I wish you’d have told me,” Jin Guangyao picked at the fraying hem of his robes.

“Why? Would you be less likely to murder me if you knew? Or was it just to spare yourself the unpleasant shock you received when you were dismembering my corpse?”

Jin Guangyao considered it. “Mostly the latter.”

“Good. If you’d said it was the former, I’d take my chances with insanity.”

Jin Guangyao rolled his eyes, then frowned. “Did he ever…?”

“Ever..? Wait, what? No!” Nie Mingjue turned to stare at him, looking scandalized – which was not an expression one really expected to see on a fierce corpse. “Why would you even ask that?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged. “Seemed reasonable, given everything else he did.”

“No,” Nie Mingjue grimaced. “He just thought I was a freak, and it seemed to especially irritate him when I didn’t just submit to whatever he wanted, that’s all. Nothing over the top...still, you clearly know what he was like. This was the man you were so desperate for the approval for?”

“I figured it out eventually,” Jin Guangyao grumbled. “Anyway, who are you to talk about father issues? You, with the whole you-killed-my-father obsession?”

“He did kill my father.”

“Big deal! So did I!” He paused. “Kill my father, that is. Not yours.”

“Did you?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “My desire to kill you went down one notch.”

“It did?”

“From several tens of thousands, but yes.”

Jin Guangyao drummed his fingers on his knee thoughtfully. “Can I kill other people to make it keep going down?”

“The fact that you even asked that made it go back up.”

Useless. Nie Mingjue was just completely useless.

“How long will it take you to get out of this one?” he asked instead, changing the subject. “I’d like to get to the Cloud Recesses to see Lan Xichen before, you know, he dies of old age.”

“Would you like to break through this array?” Nie Mingjue growled.

Lan Xichen had always been very fond of communication. He sincerely believed that almost all the problems in the world were due to miscommunication, that the vast majority of the time people just needed to meet in the middle and talk things over and that they would be able to solve almost everything to their mutual satisfaction.

Communication, Jin Guangyao decided, had not helped things one bit.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to say?” Nie Mingjue asked, poking at one part of the array and not looking at Jin Guangyao in a way that had to be deliberate.

“Say?” Jin Guangyao asked. “When?”

“When we get to the Cloud Recesses. What you’ll say to Xichen.”

Jin Guangyao had thought a lot about that. “It depends,” he hedged. “I mean, what I say to him, there’s a lot of factors – for instance, will you be there?”

“Would you prefer to talk to him as mindless fierce corpse slavering for his blood?”

Jin Guangyao grimaced. “I’m still thinking about it, then.”

“Well, think fast, then. I found a gap.”

“Good!” Jin Guangyao scrambled to his feet. “That was fast. How do we break it?”

“It’s impossible to break from the inside.”

“…you couldn’t have told me that before I got up?!”

“You don’t even have muscles anymore,” Nie Mingjue complained. “Your entire body is powered by resentful energy. Why are you still whining?”

Jin Guangyao wished he had a second arm so that he could cross them over his chest and glare. Or put them on his hips and glare. Or even just use them to make a rude gesture more easily done with two hands. “Are we trapped here forever or not?”

“It can be broken from the outside,” Nie Mingjue clarified, rolling his eyes. “I’ll summon Baxia to break it, and then we can use her to fly to the Cloud Recesses.”

“Fine.” Jin Guangyao frowned. “Wait, won’t that alert Huaisang that we’re back?”

“Probably.”

“He’ll boil me alive!”

“Only pieces of you, probably,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding far too smug about the idea. “As long as he knows that I need some of you alive. Maybe I should be the one to keep your head in my closet, this time?”

“It was a treasure room. I didn’t keep you in a closet.”

“It was a fucking closet.”

“It wasn’t. It was in a mirror and everything, it’s much more sophisticated.”

“You’re the guy that had a murder closet. Accept it.”

“I refuse to be the guy with the murder closet. Anyway, you can’t let him boil me alive, you don’t know what’ll happen if you let him do that.” He thought about it, and specifically about Nie Mingjue’s prioritization between risk and reward. “Please don’t let Huaisang boil me alive.”

“I’ll consider speaking in your favor if you stop being so annoying.”

“On second thought, I don’t have nerves anymore and can’t feel pain. Bring on the boil.”

“Are we really going to have to do this for the rest of our lives?” Nie Mingjue wondered, sounding depressed.

“For the rest of eternity,” Jin Guangyao said, equally grim. “That’s why we have to get to er-ge in time to convince him to cultivate to immortality. If I had to wait alone with you until he reincarnates, I’ll go insane.”

“You’re already insane.”

“I’ll lose the ability to stop talking.”

“…Xichen cultivating to immortality it is.” Nie Mingjue thought about it. “Do you think we could convince Huaisang to…?”

“No,” Jin Guangyao said. “You couldn’t get him to cultivate to competent; who could get him to cultivate to immortality?”

The answer to that, as they discovered when they arrived at the Cloud Recesses, was apparently Lan Xichen.

“Did I need to know this?” Jin Guangyao complained, unable to believe that he’d returned from the dead as a fierce corpse and managed to regain his sanity and even work with Nie Mingjue to get to the Cloud Recesses in order to apologize to his sworn brother for all the wrongs he’d done to him, only to be stuck waiting outside in the rain while said sworn brother finished banging his other sworn brother’s little brother. “I didn’t need to know this.”

“Shut up,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m practicing meditation in order to block out sound from my ears. Maybe I should remove my head again? Do you think that would help?”

“Nothing will help,” Jin Guangyao said as another set of enthusiastic shouting emerged through the too-thing walls. “Ever. My mind is scarred permanently.”

“Maybe that’ll improve it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

They stood in silence for a little while, the only sounds the howling of the wind and also the howling from inside the room.

“…how long do you think it’ll take for them to finish and notice we’re here?” Jin Guangyao considered. “Maybe we could throw rocks?”

“It took five years for us to get out of that coffin,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can wait five minutes for them to finish.”

“It’d be funny if we threw rocks and then appeared in the window, dark figures silhouetted by lightning. Like in those scary puppet plays. They might never have sex again.”

“I value my brother’s happiness over your petty desire to ruin his sex life,” Nie Mingjue said, then grimaced at a particularly loud yowl. “As tempting as the thought might be.”

“We’ll wait, then,” Jin Guangyao said. “And then we’re all going to have some words.”

“Of course we are. Because you don’t shut up.���

[agendratum]

ok so

as usual after finishing an arc of mdzs my head is full, many thoughts. so let’s talk about the guanyin temple confrontation.

first thing that i kept paying attention to were actually the changes made in order to turn it into live-action. so in cql they had to make the gray-gray characters, the “there are no good or bad guys, just people and their circumstances” characters (unless you’re jgs, than yeah you’re a bad guy and everyone agrees on that actually) into slightly more black and white characters. by the end of cql we are lured into this fake sense of security, “haha, we know who the bad guy is!” (then a year passes and here you are, now a jgy apologist), by the end of mdzs, you just know that, well, decisions were made, unfortunate decisions, by many different people. 

cql had to make wwx into a bit nicer version of himself. the good protagonist couldn’t lose control and accidentally kill a bunch of people, and then kill another bunch of people fully willingly, cause his sister just died and that was the last connection he had to the idea that something still matters in this world. no, out protagonist should be... like a little bit nicer than that. so they lifted some of that responsibility for atrocities off him, but they couldn’t just evaporate it, could they? they had to put it somewhere. they put it on jgy. after all he’s the big bad in the end of the story, well, the only surviving person from all people that could be considered big bads, he’s the one that “did every terrible deed imaginable”. he could take that responsibility, they had to make his grayness into a slightly darker shade anyway.

i am actually kinda surprised by how different my reaction to jgy was in mdzs. obviously, there is a year difference between me watching cql and me reading this part of mdzs, and over that year i changed my opinion on jgy 5 thousand times and joined the camp “actually meng yao deserves all the best things in the world”, but anyway. when i was watching cql i was like, oh my god, can someone just kill him already, before he does something bad again, before more bullcrap comes out of his mouth, and also stop yelling at this kid about all the “valid” reasons to why you killed his dad. in mdzs my reaction to jgy’s confessions was like, “huh. he has a point”.

now don’t get me wrong there, some shitty things were done, but the thing is, the things he did really made sense from his point of view, from this position and life experience he really had no other way to go. i especially was convinced by his reasoning to why he couldn’t cancel his engagement with qin su. not only he would suffer from this story, because he already went through so much to make this marriage possible, but also qin su’s parents and herself would most likely suffer, their public image would be destroyed, only jgs wouldn’t lose anything. and you could feel the hatred and bitterness he felt towards his father talking about this, and everyone in the temple could agree with that, because he “just forgot he made another child”, he didn’t even notice.

another interesting detail for me was lxc saying, “it’s not that i didn’t know that you did some of these things, it’s that i thought you had a good reason for doing them”. so yeah, a reminder, lxc isn’t blind and he isn’t an idiot. he trusted a person he thought he knew better than anyone else, and he believed in this person. the problem, i think, is that “a good reason” is different for lxc and for jgy. lxc would understand a righteous reason, doing something for the greater good. working for wen ruohan? that was explainable. they all were fighting in a war, fighting for the better, brighter future, and meng yao’s contribution to that future was immeasurable. what if he killed some people there? he had a good reason in lxc’s eyes. but meng yao had other good reasons in his life, some of these reasons lxc never had to deal with in his life. survival, for example, is one of them. meng yao’s early years were very different from lxc’s. not to say that lxc’s life was easy, but it was never truly unstable. meng yao had to learn how to survive in a world where no one wanted him. he lived with one dream, promised to him by his mother, a future where he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, where he wouldn’t have to smile at people he hated, please every one of their desires so they wouldn’t harm him. and then he entered this life promised to him and he still had to survive, but now in a luxurious man-eats-man world of lanling jin.

meng yao’s life really was this unstoppable ball of snow rolling down the mountain, and every decision he made just made the ball bigger and it would just roll faster. there is even a moment where jgy accuses lxc of being naive. lxc isn’t really naive, of course, it was said in the heat of the moment, but it is a fact that lxc was never kicked down a staircase, never had to crawl back up, and the thing is, at the bottom of the staircase, there are other good reasons to do things.

and in a way lxc understood that jgy in his position really didn’t have any other choices, he just couldn’t find peace in this mindset. he kept repeated through that part, “and yet, and yet, you shouldn’t have done that, you should have...” and he never said what exactly jgy should have done. because lxc doesn’t know. jgy doesn’t know. no one knows. what choices were better? how could he fix all that and still survive? in a way, lxc saying that reminded me of wangxian farewell in the burial mounds. when lwj asks, “you really indent to keep going like this?” and wwx, who wished, who longed for another solution, for some way out, asked him, “what else can i do? what method can i choose to resolve this, not use this technique and still protect people i want to protect?” and lwj didn’t have an answer. lxc didn’t have an answer either.

another amazing thing about guanyin temple confrontation, is that it’s very heavily wwx’s pov. most on the novel is his pov of course, but there were a loot of his thoughts in this arc. and he was rather understanding towards jgy. not in a way “i agree with every reasoning behind every decision you made” but in a way “i understand that you had your reasons, but all of them will become irrelevant really soon, they already are, because the crowd will only remember you as a son of a whore who did every terrible deed imaginable, and all the good deeds will be forgotten” 

now his thoughts on nhs, or who he suspected nhs to be, were way less nice. especially compared to live action, nhs didn’t make such an impression on me as he made through wwx’s thought process in the end of guanyin temple arc. of course, wwx is no sect leader yao, he is not the one to jump to conclusions, he just noticed that if you put some facts together, they actually start making a lot of sense, and formed a full picture. but he didn’t have any proof, so he kept it mostly to himself. yet he still thought for a moment about nhs as someone who didn’t care about collateral damage that much, who was ready to sacrifice lives of juniors, sect leaders, anyone, if it would add to jgy’s kill count and make his fall and destruction even more disastrous. not that those are not the things that happened in live action, but you know, when wwx put it all together like that in one paragraph, i really felt it. like, oof, dude it’s ROUGH. and not even jgy’s death was enough, as nhs basically admitted to stealing meng shi’s body and planning to repay jgy for what he did to nmj’s body. yikes

i mean i still support nhs in everything he does, but yikes

also side note, glad that the dead cats situation finally became clear for me. this whole year i was so confused about who left all these dead cats for juniors to find. i thought maybe xue yang did?? to lure wwx?? so apparently it was also nhs. good to know.

another detail, probably the last one my brain can generate for now, that pained me a great deal was my poor child jin ling. i already cried about some things related to him and this arc, but there was another little one in the very end here, after jgy died. jin ling realised, that there were now three people, wwx, wn and jgy, his little uncle, that were responsible for his parents’ death. people he had every right and reason to hate. all three of them. and yet he couldn’t hate any of them. he couldn’t avenge his parents, that died so long ago he couldn’t remember them, because all three people responsible for what happened, had something, some reasons, some circumstances, that made them really not the bad guys in jin ling’s life. and they all cared about him, protected him. how could he hate them? how could he not? and in this way this poor child repeats, unfortunately, his uncle’s curse. to have someone he wants to hate so much but just simply can’t. it warms my heart at least that jin ling has a much better support system than jc had when he had to live through that experience. so there is hope.

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million CH 7

Y’all, this chapter got so out of hand and it’s so lOnG (or at least longer than any other chapter I posted) Thank you so so much @inloveoknutzy @knittingdreams @heyitssmiller and @donttouchmycarrots !! You all helped with this chapter in different ways and I appreciate you all so much❤️❤️

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries  @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @sunflowerfox87 @hereforwolfstarr @potterlocked24-7 @cheekeebabe (i can’t seem to find your tumblr :( ) @domesticatedbeetlenamedjorge

CW: mentions of past animal abuse, emergency clinic, mention of needles

Masterlist

Ao3

Chapter 7 - Rough night

“Go home, son.”

Remus lifted his head from where it’d been buried in his hands for who knows how long and looked at the doctor smiling sadly at him.

It was well past any reasonable time, he’d probably been sitting there for hours, but Remus couldn't bring himself to move from his spot in the waiting room.

He didn't want to go.

He couldn't stand the idea of going back home alone, of Cocoa not being there with him. He felt as if he wasn't really there at the clinic, his mind was miles away in a deserted, foggy forest, where a furry little puppy was chained to a tree, barely keeping his eyes open, his ribs protruding like a black skeleton. How could he just go?

The feel of Cocoa’s body trembling with spasms in his arms as he’d carried him to the car was still fresh in his mind; how he’d whined pitifully from the back seat while Remus sped through the city until he reached the emergency clinic, how both their hearts had been beating a thousand miles per minute when he picked him up again and burst through the front doors.

The fear clutching at his heart had made him numb to anything else going on around him, to the way he’d practically screamed at the poor guy at the reception desk until someone came to help him. And even though he knew it was exactly what he’d come here for, parting from Cocoa and watching as they took him away had almost broken Remus all over again.

He would give anything to feel that heartbeat under his palm right then.

A hand settled heavily on his shoulder, grounding him back into his body. Remus didn't want to listen to those words again. Go. It sounded a lot like he was abandoning him.

"You need to rest. And Cocoa needs to stay in observation, but I promise we will take good care of him. You can come back tomorrow afternoon, he’ll probably be ready to go home by then."

Resigned, Remus nodded. He knew he couldn't stay and that Cocoa was in good hands, but that did nothing to quell his guilt.

He thanked the doctor, who squeezed his shoulder once, and walked numbly out the building.

The next half hour was a blur. Remus had no idea how he got back to his apartment building, he only had vague memories of getting back into his car and driving through the mostly empty streets.

All he knew was that he was now there, standing in front of his door, staring at the pattern in the wood without really seeing it, picturing the empty flat that was awaiting for him on the other side instead. Remus counted to ten and sighed. He figured it wouldn’t get easier any time soon, so he fished in his pocket for his keys.

Only to realise he didn’t have them.

He stared at his empty pocket as he replayed in his head how he’d dropped the keys to the floor when he’d gotten home earlier that day, and in his haste to get Cocoa checked, he hadn’t grabbed anything other than the car keys.

“Fucking fuck, just...fuck!” he slammed his fist against the door once, like that was going to solve anything.

Suddenly he felt exhausted. He’d been through way too many emotions in just one day and all he wanted to do was lie in bed, but he couldn’t do that ‘cause he was fucking locked out. Remus let his back hit the wall and slid down to the floor, hiding his head in his knees. Despite everything, part of him was kinda glad that he didn’t have to go in when he knew there would be no one there expecting him.

He’d left him at the clinic. Alone. Probably inside a tiny cage, with no one there to comfort him and those horrible intravenous lines piercing his skin. Remus knew first hand how uncomfortable those were.

His eyes burned as tears started prickling behind his eyelids and dampened the fabric of his shorts. It was his fault. Two years ago he’d promised he would take care of Cocoa, make sure he was happy, and look how that turned out.

“Remus?”

Oh, fuck. Remus tightened his grip on his knees as he heard fast footsteps approaching.

“Remus, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

The rustle of a bag thumping against the floor close by was the only warning he got before he felt someone kneeling next to him, but Remus refused to look up. What the hell was he doing out at this time? Remus was not sure he could deal with this right now. Not with the tornado that was Sirius Black.

He could feel the other man shuffling about, most likely not sure what to do, until he finally said softly, “Remus, please look at me?”

There was such a plea in his voice, and a level of concern he hadn’t expected. Remus knew he couldn’t stay this way forever, so he reluctantly raised his head, doing his best to dry his face on his clothes as he did. He just hoped his eyes didn't look as bloodshot as they felt.

Sirius' eyebrows were furrowed, worry written all over his face as he knelt there, his hands half-raised like he wanted to touch Remus but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

Remus stared into silver eyes, trying his damn best to school his features into a mask of impassiveness. “I...I forgot my keys.”

“Ok…” Sirius eyed him wearily. “Do you have any spares?”

“Leo does, but I can’t ask him to bring them now,” Remus shrugged.

“So what, you were just going to sit here all night?”

Remus didn’t reply. He just shrugged again, his gaze glazing over and drifting to the wall in front of him. He wasn’t sure he had many options, and his brain wasn’t cooperating to come up with a solution. Maybe he could force the door open. But then he would have to pay for the damages, and he might not be able to close the door again and leave it broken for the night.

A sigh brought him out from his unhelpful thoughts. “Why don’t you come to my place?”

“What?” his eyes snapped back to Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You can’t possibly spend the night here Remus. For one, it’s freezing cold and you’re only in your gym clothes. And for another, I won’t allow it.”

It did seem like a very reasonable option, but then Remus noticed just how close Sirius was from him, his warmth radiating from his body and warming Remus’ numb fingers. Suddenly, all he could think of was how he’d almost kissed this man just a couple of hours ago. What if Sirius was only asking because of that? Was he purposely trying to get Remus alone?

“Ah, thank you, but I can go to my Mum’s or...or I could sleep in my car.”

“Remus don’t be stupid. It’s the middle of the night. Your Mum lives far away and she’s probably sleeping right now, and seriously? What the hell are you thinking? Sleeping in your car? No fucking way, that’s dangerous, and I have Netflix, ice cream, and a perfectly good guest room just three feet away.”

Remus hesitated. Even if he felt more comfortable knowing there was a guest room available, he still wasn’t sure he could face Sirius and whatever had happened in that pool. Wouldn’t it be awkward?

But Sirius did have a point, he couldn’t go back home. And though he was reluctant to admit it, he didn’t want to be alone right now and Sirius’ voice was strangely calming.

“Are you sure?” Remus asked, biting his lip.

“Of course.” Sirius smiled and got up, picking up the bag that he’d dropped on the floor. It was from the shop down the corner, full of snacks and a pack of cigarettes as far as Remus could tell. He offered Remus a hand and helped him get up, then led the way to his flat without another word.

Remus followed numbly, using what was left of his strength to lift his feet enough not to drag them over the floor. Once inside, he glanced idly around, noticing a few more details now that there were no people partying everywhere. There was a weird mix of decor going on: some of the stuff was tastefully modern (and very expensive), while other things were the kind of trinkets you would most likely find at a thrift store or in a street market. A Queen flag hung from the same wall as a street sign that had clearly been stolen, right next to a huge telescope that looked out the window.

“Make yourself at home,” Sirius said over his shoulder as he went over to the kitchen.

Doors closing and the sound of ceramic clinking came from the place Sirius had disappeared to. Remus moved in autopilot to sit at the couch and glanced down at his hands. His brain felt like mush, his mind going completely blank while he waited.

He didn’t move an inch until Sirius came back a few minutes later, holding a steaming cup of tea that he offered Remus. It took him a couple of seconds to figure out how to move his arm again, and when he did, it was trembling so badly that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold the cup without spilling tea everywhere. He hoped Sirius wouldn’t notice, but by the way he frowned, he had no such luck.

Indeed, Sirius placed the mug on the coffee table before Remus could get a hold of it and sat down in front of him. He then reached slowly to clasp Remus’ hand in both of his.

“Jesus fuck Remus, you’re fucking freezing. Just how long were you sitting out there?” he asked in a reproachful tone.

Remus simply shrugged. He had no idea, and besides, he was too focused on Sirius’ big hands around his. He knew he probably shouldn’t, that the other man probably didn’t even mean it in that way, but he took comfort in that small touch, in how gently Sirius held him. It was as if he was scared Remus would break, or disappear in a cloud of smoke. He vaguely wondered if Sirius realised how long it’d been since Remus was touched like this.

When he spoke next, Sirius’ voice was softer. “Ok, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to forget about that cup of tea, go take a hot shower and change into warmer clothes. Warming your fingertips and digestive tract is pointless if the rest of you is still freezing. And after that, we’ll get you sorted for the night. D’accord?”

A steaming shower sounded like bliss right then, especially now that Remus was painfully aware of how cold his shaking body was. Just accept it, he told himself, but all that came out of him was “I don’t have clothes to change into.”

His voice sounded dull even to his own ears, but Sirius kindly ignored it and waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ll lend you some. Now come on,” his tone didn’t leave room for arguing.

Remus was finding it harder and harder to look at his face, so he let his head drop. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Remus.”

Slowly, warm fingers extended towards him, touching lightly below his chin to make him look up. Sirius’ face was a wonderful mix of fierce and caring as he stared at him intently.

“You are not a bother. Ok? Not now, not ever.”

Remus’ throat closed up, and he didn’t trust his voice to sound steady, so he just nodded quickly. Sirius smiled reassuringly and brushed his fingers in a feather-like caress, and Remus found himself jutting his chin forward to prolong the touch, but, much too soon, Sirius let go and got up.

He guided Remus through a hall and into a spacious bathroom that had both a big bathtub and a shower cubicle. Sirius went straight to open the hot tap so the water would warm up, and then he reached into the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a soft looking white towel, which he placed on the counter. He turned to look at Remus.

“Toiletries are just in that corner, use whatever you need. I’ll just go get some clean clothes for you and be right back.” He smiled again and left.

With nothing else to do, Remus let his eyes wander around the room that was slowly filling with hot steam from the shower, until he looked on top of the sink and was startled at his own reflection in the mirror.

Damn, he was a fucking mess. His clothes were rumpled, his hair ruffled and dishevelled from all the times he’d raked a hand through it, and his eyes were red, puffy and a little bit dead.

“Here you go.” Sirius walked back in, carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes which he put next to the towel. “Call me if you need anything, d’accord? Take your time.”

Remus nodded and thanked him, not quite able to meet his eye. Sirius closed the door behind him and Remus took off his clothes and stepped in the shower. He hadn’t realised how taught his muscles were until the jet of hot water hit his back and he relaxed under the pressure. It was very soothing, standing there for a while, slowly working his body to loosen up, while thinking of everything that had happened that day and trying to calm down.

By the time he finished, he hadn’t succeeded completely, but felt a lot better all the same. He snagged the towel, draping it across himself, and went through the pile of clothes that Sirius had left for him, a warm feeling spreading through his chest.

The feeling extended to his cheeks when he picked up a small square of black fabric, only to realise it was a pair of Sirius’ underwear.

Oh God, was he really going to wear his neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour’s underwear? His hot neighbour whom he very much had wanted to pin against the pool tiles and kiss senseless?

He bristled and looked up at the ceiling. Well, it’s not like the air between them could get any more awkward, could it?

***

Sirius started tugging at his bottom lip for the ninth time since he’d sat at the sofa. Remus had been in the shower for a really long time and he was starting to get worried. He still felt slightly thrown off-kilter by the way he’d found the man sitting by the door, curled in a ball and hugging his legs as if his life depended on it.

And the despair in those amber eyes when he’d finally looked up at him… How the fuck was he supposed to ignore that? He never wanted to see that look in Remus’ eyes ever again.

He was just about to go over and knock on the door when he heard some shuffling, and his head perked up to see Remus walking into the room and stop by the archway awkwardly. Sirius tried to ignore how cute Remus looked in his sweats and hoodie that were two sizes too big for him. His wet curls were flopping over his forehead adorably, but damn, it was certainly not the time to be smitten by the man.

Remus was clutching his own clothes against his chest in a protective stance, like that could shield him from...Sirius had no idea what.

And that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it? This man was so open one minute and incredibly guarded the next; Sirius could tell he was desperately trying to protect himself from something. But he just didn’t know why.

He mustered up a smile, trying to make Remus feel more at ease, and approached him. “Hey there,” he eyed Remus’ face discreetly. He looked better, but still seemed to be a bit off and he held the bundle tighter when Sirius got close. “I can show you where the guestroom is if you want to lie down, and then I’ll make you another tea. I’m afraid I drank the other one while I waited. Both cold and warmed up tea should be a crime,” he said, trying to lighten up the mood. Anything to get Remus to drop some of his walls.

The corner of Remus’ mouth quirked up slightly, and, given the circumstances, Sirius took that as a success.

"Actually, I… I don't think I can sleep right now," Remus said, rubbing at the side of his neck.

"That's ok," Sirius reassured. "Do you want me to stay up with you? We can play games or watch a movie. Or would you rather I leave you alone?"

And then Remus had that look again, that seemed as though he was drowning, and Sirius prepared himself to be shut out without knowing why. But then again, Remus never seemed to do what he expected him to.

"I wouldn't mind some company, if that's ok," he said, before he hurried to add, "but don't feel like you have to."

Sirius smiled brightly at him. "My work schedule is fucked up anyway, so don't worry about it. Why don't you go sit on the couch? I'll get us something to drink."

While Remus nodded and sat down, Sirius went back into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. He was actually meant to be editing his last recording, even more now that he had more of a reason to do it.

He’d received Remus’ merch a few days ago, and had made a video using it for the sole purpose of imagining Remus’ face when he saw it on Padfoot’s channel. Usually, Marlene was in charge of doing the editing, but he’d asked her to let him do this one himself. He knew it was stupid, but even if Remus wouldn’t know, he wanted it to be something personal.

The eagerness to finish them tonight was almost consuming him; he was sure they would lift Remus’ spirits. But he couldn’t leave him alone right now.

The water boiled, Sirius filled two mugs with a nice aromatic tea, and, after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard and walked back into the living room. 

Keeping a safe distance between them, he sat on the couch next to Remus, who raised an eyebrow when Sirius placed the bottle at the table. He simply shrugged in response.

"I thought you might want some."

Remus narrowed his eyes and held his cup in both hands, but after taking two sips he seemed to think better of it and reached over to pour himself a healthy dose. He sighed when he drank next and stared ahead, his eyes getting that faraway look again. Sirius wasn’t sure he wanted to know where exactly Remus was at that moment. 

He’d been wondering for a while as to what could have gotten Remus in this state. The man was usually so composed, except for those few moments Sirius had gotten a glimpse of, when he could practically see him closing up. He hated that feeling, hated not knowing how to help him or avoid those reactions.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a moment.

“About what?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow even though Remus was not looking at him. “You don’t seriously think I believed for a second that you were crying in the hallway because you forgot your keys, do you?”

Remus flinched but still kept his head down, avoiding his gaze, and a horrible thought occurred to him.

“I...I don’t want to assume anything,” he started, feeling a weight drop in his stomach, “but if this has anything to do with… you know, with what happened earlier then I…” he fumbled for the right words as he gestured vaguely with his hands, and finally Remus looked back with a confused expression on his face. He frowned for a second and then realisation dawned on him and he hurried to shake his head.

“No, no that’s not it. I...Something else happened and I had to leave my flat in a hurry. It’s...it’s not about that.”

His face turned to a lovely shade of pink, and Sirius had the sudden urge to cup those cheeks in his palms and feel the soft skin beneath them. He balled his hands into fists to keep himself from reaching out.

“Ok,” Sirius said, relieved but still worried. Remus seemed uncomfortable, and though Sirius had a million questions he was dying to ask, he knew it was not the time. Instead, he added some whiskey to his own tea. “Well, I’m here for you, in whichever way you need.”

Silence stretched between them, and it didn’t seem like Remus wanted to talk, so Sirius found a silly movie that could take Remus’ mind off things and they sat in companionable silence. They sipped from their spiked teas while the movie rolled, and when those were finished they moved on to straight whiskey.

He could tell Remus kept stealing glances at him, and even opened his mouth a couple times, but ended up closing it back in the end. He gave him the time he needed and waited.

“Sirius,” Remus called after a while. When Sirius glanced at him from his spot by the armrest, he found soft eyes, warm like melted caramel, trained on him. “Thank you.”

His voice was earnest and loaded with emotions that Sirius couldn’t figure out, but it sent a flutter through his stomach. He smiled fondly at this gorgeous, unpredictable man that had stumbled in his life at such a dark time. “Anytime, Rem.”

Remus' face turned almost pleading, and it was becoming physically impossible for Sirius not to get closer and pull him into his arms. Not when he was clearly upset about something and possibly a bit drunk.

No, he didn't want to do it like this.

He raked his brain for a safe topic and said the first thing that came to mind. "So, you said your classes were going well?"

Remus blinked a few times and then made a vague gesture with a hand, almost knocking the bottle in the process.

Well, he was definitely a bit drunk.

"It's great. Everyone is very nice and welcoming. And it's amazing that I got to know Lily and Natalie. Although Nat can be a bit hard to deal with," he said, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. In fact, he seemed rather fond of both girls.

Remus stretched forward to grab the bottle again, his mug tilting precariously on his leg. Sirius wasn't sure it was a good idea for him to keep drinking, so he snatched it right from his fingertips and placed both mugs on the table.

“Hey!” Remus protested.

“You're clearly ahead of me, I’m just catching up,” Sirius smiled mischievously as he gulped down, the warm liquid burning his throat, and laughed when Remus scowled at him. “Tu es mignon,” he said before he could stop himself.

Fuck. Maybe he should cut back on the alcohol too.

But Remus didn’t comment on it, just stared at Sirius with those big eyes that somehow were so much like his pet’s. And suddenly something clicked in his head.

“Oh crap. Will Cocoa be ok?” he asked Remus, who just stared. “Y’know, with you being locked out and all.” Remus continued to stare, his hand flinching the only indication that he’d heard him. Sirius raised an eyebrow and watched, alarmed, as tears started welling in Remus’ eyes. He fumbled around, flustered, wanting to hug Remus but not sure if Remus would want him to. “Ok, merde, don’t worry. Maybe I can climb over to your balcony? But I don’t think I can get in unless you left the window open…”

Remus sniffed. “My dog…”

“Fuck, wait here. Maybe I can open the door anyway, I’ll just go-” he was already stumbling out of his seat, but stopped when he felt Remus pulling at his sleeve.

“He’s not there.”

“Not there? What do you mean?”

“He-” Remus sniffed again and his breath hitched, “he’s at the clinic.”

Sirius sat down slowly, his heart beating fast. “What are you talking about?”

“I… I got back home and he… he’d found some of my chocolate, I don’t even know where he got it from.” Remus paused to take a shaky breath. Sirius could just imagine the moment, and Remus’ worry, and his heart ached for him. For both of them. “He was all… trembling and stuff. I took him to the emergency clinic straight away.”

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked as gently as he could.

“I think so. They gave him something to absorb the toxins, but he had to stay in observation just in case.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Remus’ tears started falling harder; great, heaving sobs shaking his body. He was a wreck, eyes swollen, wet tracks down his red cheeks, and Sirius couldn’t help it anymore. He took Remus’ hand, who held on as though that was the only thing keeping him together.

“But I left him alone at the hospital! When I found him chained to that tree, I promised I would take care of him, that I wouldn’t abandon him just like his old owners had. Just like I was ditched too. And I just left him there!”

Sirius started at that. What did he mean ‘he was ditched’? Every new detail about Remus’ past that came to light felt like having his vision go clearer and darker at the same time. Some questions were answered, but a lot more appeared that were worse than the ones before. He didn’t understand why Remus’ mum or Leo hadn’t been at the hospital with him, or exactly why he’d been stuck in bed in the first place. But he knew it was still hard on Remus. He could only imagine what leaving Cocoa at the clinic would have done to him.

“It’s my fault he ate the chocolate in the first place…”

“Oh no, we’re not going to do that. This is not your fault.”

“But he almost died,” he said, with his head bowed in shame.

Sirius scooted closer and held Remus’ tighter, while he used his free hand to wipe the other man’s tears with his thumb, first on one cheek and then the other. He pressed his palm against Remus’ cheek and locked eyes with him.

"Remus, the way you reacted is probably what saved his life. That dog loves you, anyone can tell, and I know you would never do anything that would hurt him. Cocoa is going to be fine."

Remus’ breath hitched again as he leant into the touch.

"How do you know?" he asked helplessly.

Sirius smiled softly at him. "’Cause he's a fighter just like you are."

It was small, but slowly, an actual, genuine smile spread across Remus’ face, looking at Sirius as if he was seeing him for the first time, and Sirius felt his world stop.

It didn’t feel like the sun was rising after the longest night. It was more like coming up for air after being underwater without even knowing it. It was melting every barrier he’d ever built. It was wishing he could see that smile every day, because if Remus smiled like that, then everything was a little bit better.

Before he could get his mind riled up about how deeply enthralled by the man he was and the panicking that would ensue, Remus yawned.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Stretching his arms over his head, Sirius stood up and turned the TV off. Remus tried to follow but stumbled over his feet and would have crashed over the table if Sirius hadn't caught him in time, draping a hand around his middle.

"Oops," Remus chuckled, and Sirius inwardly winced at how adorable he was.

He put an arm under his shoulders and helped him to his room, not bothering to turn on the light. He opened the bed covers for him, and guided him down; Remus’ eyes were halfway closed even when he was still sitting, and Sirius had to force himself to turn around and leave, but just as he did, long fingers slid into his hand, holding on to him.

“Don’t go,” Remus whispered, his eyes now on Sirius’.

What was he meant to do about that? They were both drunk, Remus had been through a lot, and he didn’t want it to look like he was taking advantage of his state.

“It’s ok, I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything,” he assured him. He tried to get Remus to lie down, but he held on to his hand and didn’t let go.

“I can play you some rain sounds?” he offered, a bit desperate, not quite thinking straight as the alcohol was making him a bit dizzy. Or maybe that was just the effect Remus had on him.

“No, you,” Remus pouted, tugging at his arm.

Sirius wanted to. He really, really wanted to lie down with him, tuck him close and hold on for dear life. But it didn’t feel right, Remus might not want the same thing if the circumstances were different.

“Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

The conflict in his mind dimmed and he sighed, defeated, ‘cause there was no way Sirius could say no to that.

Please, don’t regret this tomorrow.

He nodded, and Remus smiled and let Sirius tuck him into bed with the blankets up to his chin. Sirius removed his shoes and went to the other side of the bed, lying on his side on top of the covers.

Remus turned on his side as well, and then they were face to face with just a few inches between them. It was dark, but not dark enough that Sirius couldn’t see Remus’ face, his soft curls, the freckles over the bridge of his nose, those beautiful honey eyes, the curve of his lips...

How the fuck was he supposed to sleep with him right there?

It would be impossible. All he could think about was how only a few hours earlier they’d also been this close to each other, how their breaths had entwined, driving him mad. He’d been so sure that Remus was about to kiss him. And he’d wanted him to, fuck, he wanted it so badly. The need to be closer was becoming unbearable.

But maybe it was all just wishful thinking, considering the way Remus had ran from him.

He hadn’t realised he was still staring at Remus’ lips until they moved, just barely, to whisper almost inaudibly.

"Goodnight, Sirius."

When he looked up, Remus’ eyes were already closed, and a few seconds later the sound of slow, even breathing filled the room.

Sirius watched him sleep for a while; his face finally relaxed and more open than it’d been all night. Stretching slightly forward, he tilted his chin up to press a soft kiss on Remus’ forehead.

"Goodnight, Re."

[machinegunbun]

🤘-

What about reader is the manager/assistant and fucks up some bug career opportunity for them?

Mistakes can allways happen but that was something really big

Maybe even gets fired for it?

Fucked It +

TW?: Mostly angst but theres some very slight smut with readers S/O

A/N: Not to age the writing but Im writing this as colson tweets that he’s gonna play at the halftime show in the next few years. S/O= Significant Other. I wanted to keep it kinda gender neutral cause bi people exist i dunno. 

Word count:1.8k A little longer than a blurb, but just as dialogue-y

This year had been stressful, to say the least. There was the release of tickets to my downfall, and along with that the cover scandal, the bloody valentine music video, downfalls high, the snl episode. It was like every second of your day was filled with something, you rarely got the chance to spend time with your S/O.

That’s right, you had an S/O. Being Colson’s manager wasn’t your entire existence, although you’d seemed to have forgotten that recently. Their name is Devin, and they are not very happy with you.

They’d broken down in tears your first full night home, telling you how under appreciated they had felt while you were away. Devin had a life of their own too, though, and considering the pandemic at hand had chosen to go stay with their family to avoid the covid hot spot that was LA. You understood, and as much as you hated to admit it you barely even realized they were gone. You didn’t know what that meant, but you knew whatever it meant wasn’t anything good for your relationship, but, you loved them and you wanted to recreate that spark.

You wanted to put work into them, and you, and most importantly your relationship. You’d gotten through the emotions, but as for the spark there was only so much you could do thousands of miles away. So, you decided to put in the work and devise a plan. Your plan started about an hour and a half ago, beginning with a shower and ending with your favorite lipstick.

You love Devin and you want nothing more than to wrap them up in a soft blanket and kiss them on the forehead and take them on picnics, but you also wanted them to look at you and touch themselves. You could do one of those things in your current situation, and you felt both would help to replenish your spark.

You looked good too, dressed in your lingerie with your hair all done. You felt so unbelievably sexy just looking at yourself in the mirror, you wished they were here to witness it.

You stood in the doorway of your bedroom, your LED lights set to red, your phone set to start recording in 

3…

2…

1…

You tried your best to pose sexily in the small frame, arching your back and playing with your hair, slowly slinking down the wall. You were sure when you sent this Devin would be calling you within seconds. You checked the video, editing it to the length you liked and saving it to your camera roll.

Butterflies began fluttering in your stomach as you looked at your message app. You had seen Devin in so long, what if the spark had really gone? What if they didn’t want you anymore? Or what if they just didn’t want you right now, what if this wasn’t the right thing to do?

You took a deep breath, looking yourself in the mirror and quickly clicking through your messages, sending it before you could think too much and clicking your phone off. You moved from the bathroom, moving to your bed, staring at your phone and waiting patiently for a response.

After thirty minutes you gave up, too nervous to check if they’d seen it. You were cool.

Well, you were cool now that you had cried and and picked yourself apart piece by piece, ending up on the couch in a heap of blankets eating a family bag of your favorite chips to yourself. Family guy played on the TV, the episode only really meant to drain out the noise of your thoughts, and momentarily the bling of your phone. You would’ve missed it entirely if it weren’t for the flickering of your flashlight that you’d enabled to make sure you didn’t.

You rushed from your comfy blanket fort, spilling your chips on the way, your hand wrapping tightly around your phone. You turned it around, seeing that the notification that had popped up was only from Dylan, the guy that got Colson a place at the halftime show. 

Work, great, the thing that started this all. Was this the universe telling you it was over? You read on.

It simply said “Call me.”

Your eyebrow raised, considering waiting until tomorrow. You opened your messages, seeing that you had accidentally sent him the video of you in your lingerie. Fuck, thats why Devin hadn’t responded.

You opened his contact, calling him quickly, each ring feeling like needles being inserted into your brain.

“So I hope you understand why we wouldn’t want to be associated with that unprofessionalism.” He said, you’d zoned out through his lecture

“I understand, I do, but I hope you’d be willing to reconsider as this was a mistake on my part and not Colson’s. And seeing as this isn’t public I hope we can just brush this all under the rug and forget it ever-”

“I hear you, but I don’t think that will be possible. Mistake or not it was unprofessional on so many different levels

“But, sir-” You tried, your fingers thumbing over the buttons of the remote to mute the tv.

“It’s over, I’m afraid.” He responded, a beeping noise signalling the call had ended

Oh, nicer, you thought sarcastically, it wasn’t the universe after all, it was the manager.

Tossing your phone on the couch beside you, you retreated to your blanket fort, unmuting the TV.

Colson and the boys had been looking forward to performing at the halftime show since you’d met them. They’d been so excited when you told them you’d got them a spot. Although it was the last thing you wanted to do right now, you knew you had to break the news to Colson. 

You stared at your phone, willing yourself to reach over and call him, eventually drifting off into an unsatisfying sleep.

“Oh good, you’re here! Okay, so I was thinking for the halftime show-” Colson began, but you cut him off before he could continue

“Oh, yeah, about that.” You say, rubbing your head in hopes it would soothe the dull ache that had begun to rear its ugly head. You opened your eyes in time to watch the excitement drop from Colson’s face.

“I…” You began, not sure how to start “I fucked it.” You began to laugh, taking a moment to acknowledge how ridiculous the situation had really been.

“What do you mean?” He asks, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Devin and I are going through a bit of a rough patch with them being away and all, so I decided to try and,” You made a vague shimmy movement with your shoulders “spark things up a bit. You know the silhouette challenge on tik tok? I did that, but I got nervous when I sent the video and I was on the couch for like hours crying too scared to see if they even looked at it, next thing I know I’m getting texted by Dylan asking me to call him.” You paused, partly for dramatic effect and partly to let yourself laugh. You buried your face in your hands, Colson watching in amusement, eager for the end of your clearly hilarious story.

“I accidentally sent him my nudes. It was so fucking embarassing, oh my god!” You finish, looking up from your hands to realize no one else seemed amused.

“What’s that got to do with the halftime show?” Rook questioned.

“Oh, right.” You’d completely lost track in the midst of your rambling “He said it was completely unprofessional and he wasn’t interested in working with us.”

Colson remained silent for a moment, looking over to the other boys before responding “He isn’t interested in working with you.” Your eyebrows furrowed at this, looking between the boys..

“What’s that mean?” 

“This is the gig of our lifetime. I’ve- We’ve wanted to play the halftime show since… forever. This was our one chance and because of you we got booted out. And you were laughing about it.”

“I’m sorry, it was a genuine accident, I thought you’d find it funny. Some corporate guy saw my tits ‘cause my relationship is failing, if I don’t laugh I cry.”

 “You’re the one who sent him the nudes. This is your fuck up.”

“Yeah, okay. But I work for you, so by association he won’t work with us.”

“Then you aren’t a part of ‘us’ anymore.”

“Colson, seriously? It was a fucking accident. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Watch your tone, I think you’re forgetting you work for me. I’m a nice guy, but this isn’t my shit to deal with.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, your voice lowering. It was easy to forget Colson was your boss, he never treated you like an employee. There was more respect between the two of you than any boss/employee relationship you’d ever seen before. You’d never even seen him mad before today. You were genuinely lucky to have had this experience, to think that it was about to come to an end broke your heart.

“Is sorry going to get us this gig back?” The question was rhetorical, but you shook your head “Then I’m sorry, I can’t let this pass me up because of something you did.” Colson says, staring you down. You stood like a statue in your place, unsure whether or not you should leave. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife.

You took it upon yourself to make the decision to turn and leave, driving to the nearest gas station, where you sat in your car, crying in the parking lot.

Everything was fine and in the matter of a week it had all gone to shit. How did this happen?

You were in a happy relationship, and now they were living with their parents for who knows why and telling you they felt neglected. Your career was going amazing and you’d ruined it completely with one mistext.

You started your car back up, settling on the hope that maybe Colson and Dylan would come to their senses, and come Monday morning you would still have a job.

[snarksandkisses]

What I think about COVID-19 this morning - Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

What I think about COVID-19 this morning

March 5, 2020

 Maybe I'm the closest thing you personally know to an infectious disease epidemiologist. Maybe not--I'm not an expert on this virus by any stretch, but I have general knowledge and training from studying epidemics that is applicable, so here are my thoughts. 

 First and foremost: we are going to see a tremendous increase in the number of US cases of COVID-19 in the next week. This is not because of some new pattern in the spread of the disease, but rather due to a major change in the requirements to be tested. Until yesterday, if you had flulike illness but had not recently traveled to China, Italy, South Korea, or Iran, you could not be tested. This is just the way healthcare works, you get tested if you meet the case definition and the case definition included travel.

 As of yesterday, you can be tested if you are sick and have a doctor's order to be tested. So expect things to feel a lot more panicky all of a sudden. We will see hundreds or thousands of new cases as a result of testing increases.

 Second: is that panic legitimate? Sort of. This is not the zombie apocalypse. The death rate of 30 deaths per 1000 cases is probably a wild overestimate. (The denominator is almost certainly wrong because it is confirmed cases--and we only confirm cases when we test for them). That said, even at 3 per 1000 cases, this would be a big deal. A very big deal. By way of comparison, the death rate for influenza is between 1 and 2 in 1000 cases. So, yeah. Roughly 0x to 30x worse than a huge global flu pandemic? That's a problem.

 Unlike flu, COVID-19 is not *particularly* dangerous for children, so that’s some happy news. It is dangerous for older adults and those with lung conditions, so we need to be extra careful to protect those populations from exposure. 

Also, for millions of Americans, getting any serious illness requiring a hospitalization is a major problem because they can't pay for it. And our health care system is probably going to struggle to keep up with it all. And with China basically closed, our global economy is going to take a huge hit and we'll feel the shockwaves for years. Those are real concerns.

 What can we do? Our focus should be on *slowing down the spread* of this disease so that we have time to get caught up. Here is my advice:

 1. Wash. Your. Hands. Wash them so much.

The current best guess is that coronavirus is transmitted via close contact and surface contamination. A very small study came out yesterday suggesting that the virus causing COVID-19 is *mostly* transmitted via contact with contaminated surfaces.

I have started washing my hands each time I enter a new building and after being in shared spaces (classrooms especially), in addition to the standard practice of washing after using the bathroom and before eating. Soap and water. Hand sanitizer also kills this virus, as does rubbing alcohol (the main ingredient in hand sanitizer).

 There is no need to be obsessive about this. Just wash your hands. A little bit more effort here goes a long way. 

 2. Don’t pick your nose. Or put your fingers in your mouth, on your lips, or in your eyes. Surface contact works like this: you touch something dirty. Maybe it's an elevator button. Virus sticks to your hands. Then you rub your eye. Then you touch your sandwich, and put the sandwich in your mouth. Now there is virus in your eyes and mouth. See?

 You may be thinking, but I don’t pick my nose because I am an adult! An observational study found that people sitting at a desk working touched their eyes, nose, or lips between 3 and 50 times per hour. Perfectly normal grown-ups, not lowlifes like my friends.

 2a. There was one note that came out suggesting that face masks actually promote surface contamination because you're always adjusting them--i.e., touching your face. I don’t know if that’s true. But face masks should not be worn by the public right now, unless you are the person who is sick and you're on your way to or actually at the doctor's office. The mask’s function is to prevent spit from flying out of your mouth and landing on things when you cough or sneeze. It flies out of your mouth and is caught in the mask instead. If you are the person who is sick and not on the way to the doctor, go home. Let the people who really need them have the masks. Like doctors.

 [ETA on 3/6/2020 honestly people I am getting so much push back on the mask recommendation!! The world is running low on masks. If everyone wants a mask so they can feel ok about keeping their Daytona Beach Spring Break plans and then hospitals in India can't buy them anymore, shame on us.]

 Coronavirus does not appear to be airborne in the sense that doesn't remain floating around freely in the air for a long time, like measles does. You are probably not going to breathe it in, unless someone is coughing in front of you. If someone is coughing in your face, feel free to tell them to get their ass home and move 6 feet away from them. (Yeah I know, if you have a toddler, you're screwed.)

 3. Sanitize the objects you and lots of other people touch, especially people outside your family--like door handles, shared keyboards at schools (brrr), salad bar tongs, etc. Best guesses are that the virus can live on surfaces for 2-48 hours, maybe even longer, depending on the surface, temperature, and humidity.

 Many common household cleaning products will kill this virus. However, white vinegar solution does not. You can make your own inexpensive antimicrobial spray by mixing 1 part household bleach to 99 parts cold tap water. Spray this on surfaces and leave for 10-30 minutes. Note: this is bleach. It will ruin your sofa.

 4. "Social distancing." You're going to get so sick of this phrase. This means keeping people apart from one another (preferably 6 feet apart, and sanitizing shared objects). This public health strategy is our next line of defense, and its implementation is what will lead to flights and events cancelled, borders closed, and schools closed.

 For now, you could limit face-to-face meetings, especially large ones. Zoom is an excellent videoconferencing option. If you spend time in shared spaces, see #1. Ask your child's school about their hygiene plan, if they haven't already told you what it is. If I were in charge of a school setting, I'd be hand sanitizing the s*** out of the kids' hands, including in and out of each space, and taking temperatures at the door. I am planning to email our school nurse right after this to ask if they need my volunteer help cleaning surfaces.

 If you can telecommute, do that a little more. If you are someone's boss and they could do their job remotely, encourage them to do that. 

 Avoid large gatherings of people if at all possible, especially if they are in an area with cases OR places that lots of people travel to. If you attend group events and start to feel even a little bit sick within 2 to 14 days, you need to self isolate immediately. Like for a tiny tickle in your throat.

 5. All your travel plans are about to get screwed up. If you are considering booking flights right now, get refundable tickets. ETA: most trip insurance will not cover cancellations due to a pandemic. Look for "cancel for any reason" trip insurance. 

 Considerations for risks related to that trip you’re planning: how bad would it be if you got stuck where you are going for 3 to 6 weeks? How bad would it be to be isolated at home for 2-3 weeks upon your return? Do you have direct contact with people who are over 70 and/or have lung conditions? If those seem really bad to you, rethink your trip, especially if it is to a location where there are confirmed cases. 

 6. If you are sick, stay home. Please! For the love of all that is holy. Stay at home. Your contributions to the world are really just not that important.

 7. There is a good chance some communities will see school cancelled and asked to limit non-essential movement. If someone in your family gets sick your family will almost certainly be isolated for 2-3 weeks (asked to stay at home). You could start stocking up with essentials for that scenario, but don't run out and buy a years' worth of toilet paper. Again, not the apocalypse. 2 weeks' worth of essential items. Refill any prescriptions, check your supply of coffee, kitty litter, and jigsaw puzzles.

 8. I do want to remind everyone that when public health works, the result is the least newsworthy thing ever: nothing happens. If this all fizzles out and you start feeling like ‘Wah, all that fuss for nothing??’ Then send a thank-you note to your local department of public health for a job well done. Fingers crossed for that outcome.

 9. Look, I think there are some positives here. All this handwashing could stop flu season in its tracks! We have an opportunity to reduce our global carbon footprint by telecommuting more, flying less, and understanding where our stuff comes from. We can use this to think about the problems with our healthcare system. We can use this to reflect on our positions of privilege and implicit biases. We can start greeting each other using jazz hands. I'm genuinely excited about those opportunities.

 There is a lot we don't yet know about this virus. It didn't even exist 90 days ago. So stay tuned, it is an evolving situation. The WHO website has a decent FAQ. Free to email or text with questions, and you can forward this to others if you think it's useful.

 May the force be with you. 

 Malia Jones, PhD, MPH

maliajones@gmail.com

 I’m an Assistant Scientist in Health Geography at the Applied Population Laboratory at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I study social contact of humans, and spatial patterns of infectious disease, among other things. 

   P.S. The number one question I am getting is, did you really write this? Yes. I wrote this. 

 I didn't write it for professional purposes, so I didn't put my work email on it. It was really just meant to be an email to my friends and family in advance of what I expect to be an escalation in the panic level. But it was apparently welcome information and went viral on FB. I've decided not to edit out the swears, even though I wrote this with a much smaller audience in mind. 

 Thanks for checking your facts! Go science! 

[kyogre-blue]

Azhdaha’s development video

There is a new video out with developer commentary about Azhdaha. 

It’s very.... hm. Genshin standard, I suppose. General tidbits: 

Azhdaha’s design started early, far before his release. This makes sense, since there are several quests about his lore before 1.5

They discuss that they specifically chose "Azhdaha" due to its meaning and sense of something arising from the depths, so this isn't some casual decision from the localizers.

Azhdaha’s design uses a lot of different real world animals for his shape and movements. This includes crocodiles, box turtles, komodo dragons and stegosauruses. 

His design seems to have gotten chonkier and chonkier as it progressed, haha

The art and concept aspects are nice as always. I honeslty don’t have much complaints about Genshin in this direction. 

“Creative Concept” and “Writing Team” are two different groups. I think we can guess which one I think is much better than the other. 

Azhdaha "integrated himself into human society" and lived among them. But I’m not sure if this is supposed to imply that he had a human form. It doesn’t seem like he could have lived among humans otherwise, but who knows.  

I’m going to mostly leave out my impressions of the Zhongli angle here because I know I’m unreasonably harsh on him. But there is this one line that he "lost many things on the way of saving his friend" that I just can’t.... Azhdaha screams about being in agony for a thousand years. How was he saved? 

It’s also mentioned that this matter of erosion hints toward what could happen if Zhongli didn’t step down, so I guess Eroded!Morax is a thing. 

One point that they discuss is that Azhdaha is supposed to touch upon the relationship between humans and nature. He represents nature, while humans represent "the spirit of expansion and development." So this aspect is intentional... just completely undeveloped. 

The idea was to explore the contradictory but “symbiotic” relationship between man and nature. This “symbiotic” is repeated twice, but I feel like it’s misused here because it’s very much a standard humans exploiting nature deal. 

The writers also seem to be quite... unclear about what led to the situation with Azhdaha. On the one hand, they blame erosion for Azhdaha being in conflict with humans, but on the other hand, there is the man & nature message. Which is it? These two points don’t seem to connect in any way at all. 

This is one of the big problems I have with Azhdaha’s writing. The humans were clearly in the wrong, having exploited nature and harmed Azhdaha (and the Ley Lines, which definitely is not a good thing). But Morax is not mentioned taking any action to address this, he just seals Azhdaha away because it’s a violation of their contract. Then, the unclear element of Azhdaha’s erosion is brought up, but it seems to only say that, if he’d been in his right mind, he would have... endured silently? Not attacked? We don’t know. This is not properly elaborated. It’s very messy. 

One final bit: 

They provide the lyrics for Azhdaha’s boss theme. It's supposed to represent the relationship between him and Zhongli, and the guy in the video (apologies, I missed his name and title) says he interprets it as the hatred Azhdaha feels toward being sealed away alive and forgotten by the world. (This whole business of hating that you are forgotten seems to occur quite often.)

Here are the lyrics: 

(Long ago) in the field of stars, expelling the dark shadows

(Now) lost in the mountains and wilderness, with no way to go

Show yourself!

Since you left, this country has fallen into a terrible state

Hatred, sorrow, and grief accumulate day by day

Panicking and not knowing where to go, I embark on the treacherous journey ahead

It's time to return!

The steep rocks and mountains withstood the test of time

Thousands of rivers rush rapidly, seemingly swallowing the sky

(But even if) Mountains fall and the earth tremors

How can the evil (which caused all this) be eradicated?

(Fate) lonely and wandering, trapped in such a harsh place

There is no way out of this miserable generation

The mountains are precipitous and lush, hiding the path that diverged (between you and me)

Recounting how I had lost my way and wandered away from you, engulfed by the shadow of a mountain ridge

[jesussavedevenme]

To Be A Knight

This is the beginning of a collection of one shots following Seth's adventures as a Knight of the Dawn

Description: Like most young boys Seth had always dreamed of being a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a walky-talky while humming the Mission Impossible theme song. And while he technically still wasn't a spy,he was pretty darn close.

May 20

St.Matthew's Island, Alaska

6:25 pm

"Sorenson, I've got a job for you." came a gruff voice from down the hall. Seth turned and saw his handler, a man by the name of Flynn Hotching, leaning out of the door to his office. Flynn was a tall and strong man with a broad frame. At fifty five he was in excellent shape and the only indications to his age were the flecks of white that were sprinkled throughout his dark hair and neatly trimmed beard. Flynn was a serious man and often gave off an intimidating vibe, but Seth knew that he wasn't that bad once you got to know him.

Seth stood, ignoring the way his back popped and cracked in protest because of how long he had spent sitting in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair. He had once started a petition to replace them with those really comfortable bean bag chairs. He actually had quite a few supporters. But Flynn, being the man he was, just rolled his eyes and walked away. Seth could feel the stares of his fellow knights burning into the back of his head as he made his way over but opted to ignore it. Seth got missions quite frequently, a fact that many knights were slightly jealous of since it would occasionally get him out of some the more mundane tasks a Knight had to complete. For example, paper work. Which is what he had been doing when he had been called. He quickly made his way over, eager to get away from the evil sea of inevitable paper cuts. He couldn't help but chuckle as he mentally heard Eve calling him a drama queen. Though she wasn't much better.

Flynn barely waited for the door of his to close behind him before he began pouring out the details of whatever job he had lined up.

" There's a dealer that's been causing us some problems. They are preying on creatures such as unicorns and there has been some rumors that they are working with some less than savory characters. I need you to track them down. " Flynn stated firmly. Seth narrowed his eyes, there was no way it was that easy. If it was that simple then they would have brought in a rookie.

"Ok, what's the catch." He replied crossing his arms over his chest.The man heaved a sigh before sliding a file towards him.

" The catch is we don't have any idea who the dealer is. We don't even have a description. However, all of our dealers crimes have a certain flare to them and we have reason to believe that he is human. We have intercepted news of a deal taking place in three days in Belize. "

Seth read the file and whistled at the lack of information. The file was extremely limited which meant that whoever was doing this knew what they were doing. The Knights of the Dawn had excellent connections and kept tabs on every possible threat so for them to be this uninformed- well lets just say it wasn't good. It also meant he was walking into this mission completely blind. He couldn't plan for anything meaning he had to plan for everything. He had no idea what was going to happen once he got there but, if you ask Seth, that was part of the fun.

"Alright I'll do it." Seth replied after a moment of thought. He had to admit he only pretended to think about it, mostly just for the suspense. He had always loved a good mystery and this mission honestly excited him.

"Good, your plane leaves tomorrow at eight am sharp. You will be issued a bag that will be stocked with supplies but I advise you to bring anything you think would be useful" He said gesturing to the satchel over his shoulder, that served as his emergency kit. " I have wired five thousand dollars into your account but if you need more than that you know who to call." Seth nodded, placing the folder in his satchel and walked out of the office, heading to his apartment to prepare for the mission ahead. He pulled his coat tighter around his body as he walked outside and realized that it was later than he had originally thought. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and though Seth loved the pinks and oranges that painted the sky, he could practically feel the temperature dropping. Last time he had checked it was 25 degrees, which is no where near as cold as it could get but it was still very cold. Despite how long he had been in Alaska, he had yet to get used to the bitter cold. And he honestly didn't think he ever would. Seth guessed he should count himself lucky, this was the Knights biggest base and it had been cleverly hidden by distractor spells as well as the natural terrain of the island. Seth shivered as a strong gust of wind blew through the base reminding him of the other reason it stayed hidden from most people. Luckily he lived on the grounds of the base so it was only about a minutes walk.

The Knights of the Dawn had no shortage of money. Seth wasn't sure how they got there hands on so much money and honestly he didn't want to know. It was all warranted though considering how many supplies they had to buy along with the amount of damage control. It was amazing sometimes how much chaos a secret organization could cause. Seth knew he definitely wasn't the favourite over in the legal department because of some of the 'incidents' that had been a result of his missions. Seth was proud to be able to state that these incidents were few and far between but when they did happen he knew they had to be a nightmare to clean up.

Needless to say, with all that money, his apartment was very nice. It had a decent size living room and kitchen which connected go a small dining area. Upstairs there was two bedrooms and a bathroom. Seth's furniture was pretty sparse if he was being honest. He had a couch that had been there when he moved in, his bed, a desk, a small dining table that has also come with the apartment, as well as few chairs scattered here and there. It didn't bother him in the slightest. He honestly wasn't here that often. He slept there when he wasn't out on missions which, once again, was pretty rare. Besides the real fun began downstairs. He walked down the stairs into what appeared to be a musty, unfinished basement. A punching bag hung from one of the exposed beams and a small pile of weights sat not far from it. Seth rarely used those, they were reserved for restless nights when the big communal gym and training area was closed for the night.

Seth strode confidently towards the back wall and slid away a lose board revealing a keypad. It was truly a horrible hiding spot for something that important but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. The neat thing about the keypad though was that it had been enchanted so that he was the only one who could touch it. Meaning that not only did you need the correct code, but he had to be the one to punch it in. He wasn't exactly sure what would happen if someone else touched it but he knew it would do more than just set off an alarm. Stuff like always made Seth feel like a true spy and totally made up for the unsecured hiding space.

Seth punched in the code and heard the distinct sound of stone scraping on stone, briefly reminding him of his few days spent in the Sphinx's prison. When the sound stopped, a small opening was revealed that lead to a room containing his weapons and supplies. From the outside the room appeared to be tiny and cramped but it had also been enchanted to be much bigger on the inside. It wasn't quite as big as the knapsack they had all those years ago but it was nothing to sneeze at. Still, no matter how big it was on the outside, Seth had to crouch down to fit through the opening. The door frame was ridiculously short and the amount of time he had smacked his head against the top was honestly embarrassing. The supplies inside the room was a knights dream. There was everything you could dream of, swords, daggers, armor, bows, you name it. The special thing about this room though, was that most of the items were his. They were things he had gathered prior to becoming a knight. Seth also had several magical talismans and tools that had gotten him out of more than a few sketchy situations. His favorite talisman was a ring that sat on his right forefinger. The ring had been a gift from The Fairy King when Seth had been accepted into the Knights Academy. It was pitch black and didn't look like much at first glance however, when you looked closer you could see three unicorns that were engraved on its surface, each of which served more functional purposes. The first unicorn, when pressed, sent out a distress signal strong enough to reach Bracken even if he was in the fairy realm. The distress signal also went out to anyone who had a connected talisman. At this point the only ones being himself and Kendra who had gotten hers when she officially began dating Bracken in the form of a bracelet. The second unicorn held a few precious drops of unicorn blood. The substance could heal almost anything but it could only be used once. The final unicorn was arguably Seth's favorite. When it was pressed it would release a pearly white dagger which had been extremely helpful in the past. The downside to this tool was that, since it was made of light, he tended to have a harder time controlling it.

Seth looked through his stash, trying to decide which weapons were right for this particular mission. He knew at this point stealth was key but if you leave for a job without a weapon, you're just going to get yourself killed.

When going on stealth missions the best route to take is small weapons that can be easily concealed, such as daggers or blow darts. However, the problem with that was those were easily detected when going through airport security. Ever since becoming a knight Seth had decided that he hated flying. It was loud, chaotic, and absolutely impossible to tell who was a danger to you.

Plus carrying weapons onto the plane was pretty much impossible but, a knight needed to be prepared in every situation. The weapon had to be easily accessible, ready at a moments notice, and the best way to do that is to build a weapon that doesn't look like a weapon. Seth walked over to a small red tool box tucked away in the corner, and pulled out a large nut and and tied a piece of cord to it. He secured the cord and then started to spin it, making sure nothing was going to fall off. And just like that he had a weapon that made a killer whip and could easily crack a mans skull if it came down to that. The best part was that it wouldn't trip any alarms. Sure it might seem a little odd that someone carries a piece of cord tied to a nut but, he wouldn't get arrested for it. Seth tied the lose cord around his neck, creating a necklace that he could hide underneath his shirt until it was needed. When that was finished he turned his attention to his emergency kit and sifted through the various items, taking out anything that would tip off a scanner. Seth gathered the items that he had taken out and moved towards the suitcase that he would be taking with him. He felt around one of the sides and unzipped a pocket so small that you most likely wouldn't see unless you knew it was there. In the pocket he placed the remaining items of his emergency kit. This time he wasn't worried about the items being seen as the pocket had been enchanted to hide the items from sight. Seth then repeated the process with the bottom of the suitcase, peeling back the inside to reveal a similar compartment that had also been enchanted to be bigger. In this pocket he placed two daggers, A blow gun and darts, and his favorite sword. He pulled the sword out of it's sheath and inspected it for any chips or dull edges. The sword was jet black and held the name Shadow Slayer, which was kind of ironic given its nature. The sword held just enough darkness to work well with him but not so much that there was a risk it would corrupt him. He had found the sword while on a mission for the fairy realm not long before joining the Knights. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to use it because lets face it, milk or no milk a sword was still a sword. However, Seth had learned that it payed to be prepared. So with that thought in mind, he placed the sheathed sword in the compartment, closed it up, and began to carry it upstairs to his bedroom. He filled the rest of the suit case with clothes and other essentials and once he was satisfied that he had everything, he closed it up.

He slumped down in his desk chair and pulled out the file he had stashed in his emergency kit, pouring over what little detail it had and attempting to prepare for what was to come.

†††††

May 21

St.Matthews Island, Alaska

5:00am

The next morning Seth was up well before five am preparing for the mission ahead. Thankfully he had always been a morning person so the early hour didn't bother him in the slightest. He grabbed his bags and exited the apartment, heading to the missions office to pick up the final things he would need for this job.

The lady at the desk, He pretty sure her name is Jennifer, smiled at him as he approached the counter. She was a women in her mid thirties and she was one of the nicer people that worked the desk. There were quite a few of the people working here that obviously didn't want to and others who even seemed to resent it. Seth really couldn't blame them though, he had worked here for a few months while he was going through training and it definitely hadn't been the most fun or exciting job out there.

" ID and case number?" She asked as more of a formality than anything else. Seth was such a regular visitor that he was pretty sure they knew who he was. However, since it was required, he slid showed them his badge and rattled the number off anyway. Seth supposed that he coukd see the logic behind the badge. It was a way of identifing someone beyond ther looks. All of them had been enchanted fo return to their owners, generally via their pocket, should they be lost. Seems simple and secure enough. However, in their line of work things were rarely that black and white. Seth is not entirely sure what would happen to the badge if their was a stingbuld or if the enchantment could be removed. Luckily they didn't do much. They were just means of identification and they didn't let you into anything at all. Any area qhich required a certain level of access had several different enchantments placed on it. Ones that were designed to recognize the person requesting access and weed out potential imposters. After the battle of Zzyzx and the whole mess with the Evening Star, the knights had undergone huge security upgrades. Bracken as well as one of his sisters, Iredessa, had set mist of the enchantments. Kendra had also played a major part on strengthening these enchantments a few years ago.

The case numbers were pretty harmless. Not the most secure but all they did was let the people at the desk know what bag of supplies to get. It didn't give access to any crucial or confidential information. The most a fake could get was an issued duffle bag and possibly some.plane tickets.

Jennifer smiled as she stood and disappeared through a secured metal door. When she returned a few minutes later she was carrying a black duffle bag which she passed to him over the counter along with a two way plane ticket.

"Thanks a lot," Seth told her, flashing a bright smile her way. She hummed in response before responding,

"Stay safe out there,"

"I'll try my best," Seth replied with a grin as he headed towards the door and began the short treck to the parking lot where a car would take him to the airport. He knew he must have looked a little funny carrying around a huge duffle bag, suit case and a leather satchel that sat across his shoulder but he wasn't worried. Every Knight here had been in similar situations before. Seth looked around the parking lot, squinting in the bright morning sun, before making his way to the small grey jeep that sat close to the front. Leaning against the side was a tall guy with wind blown red hair and a lean build. Seth smiled when he spotted him. The man's name was Parker and he was one of Seth's closest friends here on the base. They had gone through training together though, Parker was about three years older than him. He was twenty-four while Seth was only twenty-one. Seth, unfortunately, hadn't had a lot of friends at that time. Because of his shadow charmer status, people tended to be wary of him but Parker had never been deterred by his abnormal abilities.

In between his own missions Parker volunteered to drive Knights back and forth to the airport. Due to Seth's frequent missions, the two usually ended up paired together.

"Another one Sorenson? Didn't you just finish that one in Sweeping Pine preserve like a week ago?"

" Yeah, Jealous?" Seth teased, raising his eyebrows. Parker laughed and shot a playful glare at the taller boy. Despite Parker's tall height, he was still at least and inch shorter than Seth. Though to be fair, not many people were taller than Seth. A fact that many people found unsettling.

" Just a little bit dude. What, you trying to show the rest of us up or something?" Parker laughed back, poking Seth in the side as he got into the car. Seth rolled his eyes as he loaded his bags into the car before following Parker's lead. They road in silence for several minutes as Parker navigated his way out of the crowded base and set up the directions to the international airport. It wasn't everyday that a Knight flew internationally for a mission. Generally if they were going to somewhere outside the country they were going to a preserve and would have to be flown there by helicopter or other means. So while it did happen, it didn't happen often.

Seth used the temporary quiet to unzip the bulky duffle bag and look at its contents.

Looking into his bag for a mission and seeing the certain supplies or gadgets still made him a bit giddy. Like most young boys, Seth had always wanted to be a spy. He had spent most of his childhood sneaking around the house with a cheap walky-talky while humming the mission impossible theme song. And while he technically wasn't a spy, he was pretty darn close. One of the common misconceptions about the Knights of the Dawn was that they didn't use any human or modern technology such as computers and other gadgets to do their job. However that was far from true. Sure they tended to avoid it when dealing directly with magical creatures, but they often used these gadgets for things such reconnaissance.

Inside the bag was some of the things you would expect such a binoculars and many more that you wouldn't expect. Seth's favorite part of these bags were the small box near the bottom that generally came with each one. The box contained different potions that you might need for the mission. Seth had always found potions to be fascinating. There had even been a time that he had considered going into the field himself. For this particular mission he had been given a night vision potion which was pretty self explanatory, An eavesdropping potion that enhanced his hearing and allowed him to listen in on a conversation without getting too close, and a form of truth serum that would loosen the lips of of someone you wish to get information from. There was at least three bottles of each along with the normal defense and first aid potions that were added. Such as, the gaseous potion, a potion for pain, a salve for injuries and many more. On top of that Tanu insisted on making sure that Seth was always stocked with his own personal set of potions. Tanu usually supplied him with more gaseous potions, a gummy potion, a giant potion, a new potion that enhanced his focus and his reflexes, as well as plenty of first aid related ones. He seemed to be convinced that Seth would end up seriously injured on every mission. Though sadly, Seth could admit, that the worry wasn't completely unfounded. Other than the potions, the bag contained an enchanted communicator, a few listening devices, a laptop, and a few other useful knick knacks.

" Got anything good in there?" Parker questioned.

" You bet," Seth replied holding up the box of potions that was in his bag even knowing that with his friends eyes on the road and so Parker probably couldn't see them. Parker laughed anyway not needing his eyes to know what Seth was referring to.

" Seth, I swear I have never seen anyone get so excited over potions before."

" What can I say, I'm a simple guy," He replied earning a scoff from Parker.

" Uh huh, says the literal Shadow Charmer who has a mission every other week," The pair laughed once again and fell into an easy back and forth banter. Continuing there shenanigans until they pulled into the airport. It was then, as much as he, loathed to do it he bid Parker farewell , thanked him for the ride, and walked into the crowded airport.

Arriving at the airport was just as hectic as he expected it to be. Of course it was crazy for everyone but, it was even more so when you are constantly looking over your shoulder or waiting to get stopped by airport security. Thankfully he was able to board the plane okay even if his makeshift weapon did raise a few eyebrows.

Something Seth had learned was that a knight should always fly economy. It may not be the most comfortable but few people would start a fight with that many witnesses around. Plus it was easier to blend in. A tee shirt and some jeans and you were all set. Ready to settle in for a long flight.

Seth popped one ear bud in his ear but left the other out in order to let him hear incoming threats. Seth found it impossible to sleep on a plane, no matter how long the journey was, because of the unknown circumstances. It would be difficult to keep an eye on people and to know who was a threat. Unlike Kendra, Seth hated reading. Only a few books had every managed to hold his attention for any.period of time. He was too restless. He would much rather be doing something outside. Moving and exploring. He didn't mind doing art, sketching being his favorite. However, that was difficult to do in a crowded, bunny plane. So Seth resigned himself to a long ride half listening to music and ignoring the guy beside him who vaguely smelled like onions.

††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

4:45 pm

Seth stretched his stiff legs as he walked from baggage claim to the exit of the airport. He breathed deeply and relished the feeling of the sun on his skin, even though he knew he would quickly become hot. But, after a long eight and a half hour flight, they were welcome changes. He glanced at the clock hung on the wall and noted the time. He knew that Corazol Belize was about two hours ahead of Alaska. Not that it mattered. Seth was pretty much immune to jet lag at this point. Not necessarily because of the constant travel, though that certainly helped, but because of the erratic and uncertain sleep schedule he had become used to while on any mission. His body had become well trained in sleeping whenever it was told. The only thing that interrupted this was nightmares but he rarely got those while on missions because his mind was too focused on other things. Seth would never admit it but that's one of the reasons he takes on as many missions as they will give him.

Seth's hotel was not far from the airport so he opted to walk there. He had done some research the night before and found a hotel that he rented under the name of Roger Alpine. The Knights would usually rent one for you but Seth preferred to do it himself. To say the hotel he chose was run down would be putting it nicely. The paint was peeling horribly from the siding and it was definitely not on the nicest side of town. The rooms were separated from the outside by a door with A flimsy looking lock, something Seth would secure once he had settled in. The room held a musty scent mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in some unsettling stains, a side table and lamp beside it, and a desk under the window. The window itself had a pair of thin ratty curtains and crooked blinds. There wasn't much Seth could do about the window, except string up a blanket, which he did. Opening his suitcase and removing his clothes, he opened the hidden compartment. From inside he took out the pieces of his emergency kit that he had stashed. He also opened up the duffle bag he had and pulled out a few other various knick knacks that he thought he might find useful. He then empty the remaining items into the compartment at the bottom of his suitcase. Leaving the duffle bag empty. This was.common practice for Seth in a place like this. He didn't want to leave his unused supplies in a relatively unprotected duffle bag while he was away. Unfortunately this was something Seth had learned the hard way.

In the end Seth was left with: the box of potions, a rope, a small bottle which held a thin dust that immediately soaked into the skin upon contact allowing the victim to be tracked, dark sunglasses (which did indeed have a camera and microphone installed) , a slingshot, some marbles( which as Seth had found were great for distractions), binoculars, and a pair of ear buds. All of these things were packed neatly into his emergency kit, ready for use. He still had his makeshift weapon secured around his neck and two knife secured in a holster and strapped to each of his legs. He had glanced mournfully at his sword but knew that it would only draw in wanted attention. Besides today wasn't about getting into a fight. Today was about exploring Corazol and getting a lay of the land. Still it played to be prepared, hence the knives. Finally, satisfied that he was ready, Seth left the dingy hotel room and began to wander along the streets. Searching for anything that might lead him in the right direction.

Corazol was a quaint little sea side town. You could smell the salt in the air, carried by the cool breeze. Corazol was small in population but it also had its fair amount of tourists. Especially right now with summer just around the corner. The busy streets were lined with street vendors all vying for his attention but Seth was more interest in searching his surroundings. The smells coming from said street vendors were heavenly and caused his stomach to crumble loudly reminding him that not only had he not eaten breakfast this morning, but that he had been walking for over an hour. Technically he could have rented a car, he definitely had the funds for it, and most Knights probably would. However Seth, was not most Knights. He didn't like rental cars for many reasons, one because it was easier to see a car and a license plate then just someone walking in a crowd. Two, every rental car was required to have trackers and such in them to prevent theft which was fine in most cases but problematic for him. That wasn't necessarily a huge risk but it was still one Seth wasn't willing to take. Maybe he had grown paranoid, but he was still alive so there's that. Finally he didn't like rental cars because, in his line of work, it was likely to get beaten up or destroyed. Plus having a car would cause him to miss out on the unique sights, sounds, and smells. That is yet another thing Seth loved about his job. It allowed him to travel the world and to see as well as, experience things he would never get to otherwise.

He had to admit this was a good place to go if you were going to hunt for artifacts and magical creatures and then illegally sell them . The Cerror Ruins were only a few miles away and Seth knew that it was a prime spot for missing person's cases, especially when people wandered off alone. He hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't have to venture there during this trip but, that's definitely where he would go if he was an illegal dealer trying to avoid the Knights as well as any other prying eyes and ears. Plus it wasn't exactly a place you would expect anything big to happen. And besides the Cerror Ruins, their wasn't really anything magical about the place. It honestly seemed kind of ordinary. It was perfect because it tended to be overlooked.

After another thirty minutes had past, the rumbling in Seth's stomach became too overwhelming to ignore and he resolved find a place to eat. He stumbled upon a small hole in the wall restaurant that seemed to be pretty popular amongst the locals. Meaning it was the perfect place for Seth to gather some information.

Even though he worked directly with magical creatures, you'd be surprised how many times he had to interact with regular people. The knowledge gathered from these people was often shaky at best and should definitely be taken with a grain of salt. However, this information often helped him form some semblance of an idea. In his experience Seth had learned that regular people noticed a lot more than even they realize. In addition most people never pass up a chance for a good gossip. And since they didn't know how valuable their information was, they were a lot less stingy with it. The only problem you run into is when they begin to ask questions and wonder why you're asking and who you are. When that happens you become the subject of gossip and word will eventually get back to you enemy. That's why Seth hated small towns. The information might be easier to come by, but it was also easier to get caught. And getting caught meant revealing your mission too soon.

In his line of work , timing was everything. Move in too soon and you risk blowing you cover as well as the entire mission. However, if you don't move in quick enough you'll miss your chance to get your guy. That perfect timing came only when you knew you enemy better than they knew themselves. It came from careful observation and lots of Intel.

Gathering Intel was arguably one of the most boring and tedious parts of Seth's job. It involved a lot of waiting, listening, learning, more waiting, and every once and awhile, a well calculated risk. Luckily, for Seth, his shade walking gave him an edge in this particular area. The ability allowed him to get closer to his enemies so he could overhear plans and put together one of his own. However no ability came without its share of risks. He had gotten a lot better at learning to shroud himself in the shadow to help cover his movements when shade walking but it wasn't an exact science. Not adding enough shadow would reveal his position should he happen to move too quickly however, adding too much shadow could be just as revealing.

Seth's favorite way of gathering Intel was doing exactly what he was doing now. Finding a place to eat while he sat back and listened. Small places like the diner he had just entered were prime spots for gossip. Additionally, they gave him an opening to talk with the locals in a relatively unsuspicious way. People tended to loosen up and talk more freely when both parties were eating. Plus it gave Seth a reason to try all the local dishes. Most of which were pretty good. The smell of home cooked food hit his nose the minute he walked through the door making his mouth water so much it was a wonder he didn't start drooling. He was met at the entrance by a plump, kind looking lady, who appeared to be somewhere in her mid fifties judging by the gray streaking through her black hair. The hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the back of her head, accentuating her full rosy cheeks. He apron stated that he name was Rosa which somehow seemed to fit her perfectly, even thought Seth didn't know her. She gave off a very motherly vibe that instantly made Seth feel at home. With a smile she led Seth to a table and asked him for his drink order. To which he replied with a simple black coffee. Coffee was something Seth had quickly become addicted when he became a Knight. It often helped him through the multiple all nighters he pulled while on a mission. Some minutes later she returned with his coffee, this time ready for his order of food.

" What would you recommend. I'm from out of town so I'm counting on you to hook me up with the good stuff," He said with a wink. Rosa laughed heartily and replied with a thick accent,

" Well only for you I will tell you my personal favorite," She rattled off the name of a dish which sounded completely foreign to Seth but he wasn't going to admit that.

" Ok then, you've talked me into it,.I'll get that," He replied and as Rosa turned to leave he continued, " And could you do me a favor and just wave your little magic wand and take all the fat and calories out for me," Once again Rosa replied with a full bellied laugh.

"You are a funny man. But for you I will have to add extra. Maybe then some of it will stick. You look like you need it," She teased in return before turning a leaving Seth alone once more. He leaned back in his chair, and pulled out his phone. Absent mindedly scrolling through something or another and trying to hide the fact that he was listening to the conversations around him. The diner was loud, making it difficult to discern the voice of only one person. Seth was tempted to use the potion he had that would hone his eyesight and hearing but didn't want to waste it seeing as he only had one. It would be unfortunate to use all of it now at the beginning of the mission when he could need it more later on.

His thoughts were interrupted by Rose who had come with his food. Seth was shocked at how quick the service was seeing as it was rush hour and the small diner was packed to the gills. With the meal she also brought his check. Seth glanced at the check, surprised at the low prices considering the quality of the food.

" Well would you look at that! you must have given me the senior citizen discount!" He paused for the laugh that he had come to expect and then followed up with, "So what are some cool things to do and see while I'm here, anything particularly interesting?"

" Oh well the Cerror Ruins are always a prime spot for tourism but you must be careful to stay on the trails. Too many people wander off and go missing. One of my favorite things is to see the sights at night. The water takes on this stunning color and you can see the star as clear as day. But if you choose that route you best stay away from Devils Tavern. Its on the North end of Corazol, close to the beaches. That place is nothing but trouble, and full of shady characters, especially recently," Rosa said. Rosa was obviously the type of person who talked openly once you got them going. The last part of her sentence caught Seth's attention.

" Really, shady people in this town? Surely not everyone seems so nice,"

" You are young. You haven't seen the darkness of man. People are not always as they seem child," She replied with a sad smile. Seth internally rolled his eyes. If only she knew. " But yes, a week or so ago , this man arrived and came into the diner to eat. He seemed normal enough even if he was a bit rude. However, later that night I saw him outside the Devils Tavern, its on my route home you see, and he was talking in hushed tones with another man. They were standing in the shadows real creepy like. I wasn't really able to hear what they were saying but they didn't sound to happy and they looked like they were planning something, " Rosa finished with a grim look on her face. A look that didn't last long as it was replaced with her usual bright smile.

Seth stored the information away for later, and smiled brightly in return. Acting as if the information had no effect on him at all. Something that had always made Seth a good agent was his poker face. He had a good control over which emotions showed on his face. This was a vast contrast to Kendra who tended to be easily read, like an open book. One with pictures and big letters. A fact that Seth ,and surprisingly Bracken, had teased her relentlessly for.

" Well I won't keep you, thanks for chatting with me . And I will be sure to check out those suggestions," He said, putting an end to the conversation. Seth then dug into his food, nearly moaning at the taste. It was incredibly good. Probably one of the best meals he's had while on a mission. While he ate, he began to sift through the information that he had been given. As always he had to wonder how much of it was true, seeing as people had a tendency to exaggerate. He also couldn't bring himself to believe that Rosa stumbled upon the Devil's Tavern, a place she claimed to despise, on her way home. From what he had seen of Corazol most of the housing was away from that part of the beaches. He wasn't going to completely discredit it but as Rosa had said, people aren't always who they seemed. However, no how much truth there was in the statement, one thing remained true. Tonight he was heading to the Devil's Tavern.

†††††

May 22

Corazol, Belize

10:00pm

Seth walked through the darkened streets. Careful to remain close enough to the street lights so as not to unintentionally shade walk. He had gotten a lot better at controlling it but it still happened from time to time. And he couldn't afford giving himself away like that. Just in case there were eyes watching him that he could not see. He had done a pretty good job of keeping on the down low. After lunch he had wandered around the streets a bit more and then headed to the beaches. Particularly the part of the beach close to the Devil's Tavern. The Devil's Tavern had been relatively quiet during the day. The sign had stated that they were opened but it had seemed oddly empty. That was a stark contrast to what he was seeing now.

The tavern now seemed to be packed to the gills with people. And even more of them were standing outside. Even from where he was standing a few feet away he could hear the loud music that played he could see the bright, colorful lights shiny through the windows. As Seth drew closer he saw a problem. Standing at the door was a big burly man wearing dark sunglasses and a tight short sleeved T-shirt that accented his bulging muscles. He was shorter than Seth, most people were, but he made up for it in width. Seth was considered to have pretty wide shoulders and his years of training had hardened his muscles into steel cords. However, none of this reassured him as he stared at a man that looked like he could snap him in half like a twig. He wasn't scared of the man per say. But, he was definitely cautious.

As Seth approached the man he seemed to be doing his own analysis and his stance showed that he didn't feel even the slightest bit intimidated. Which was fair and actually worked to Seth's advantage He had done his best to tone down the darkness of his aura that seemed to put people on edge. Plus the leather jacket he had opted to wear hit the bulk of his muscles, which weren't overly pronounced to begin with, as well as a few... other tools. Aside from the daggers strapped to his legs and the makeshift weapon around his neck, he had three throwing knives cleverly hidden in the folds of his jacket. Unfortunately, much to Seth's displeasure, he had once again leave his sword behind. As weird as it may sound he felt like the sword gave him a better sense of security than the multiple knives strapped to his body. He was dangerous with both weapons and that was disregarding the fact that he was a shadow charmer. So even without the sword, he was hardly helpless. Still, he always felt oddly bare without it. A look settled on the bouncers face. A look that Seth had often seen on bullies when he was a kid. In the end that was all this guy was. A bully. And obviously he saw Seth as his next victim. However, despite all the scenarios Seth was mentally planning for, all the man did was sneer. Seth did his best to pretend he was scared as he entered the building

The air smelled heavily of alcohol and the music, which had been loud before, now seemed to shake the floor. He immediately began to weave his way through the sweaty bodies packing the room searching for signs of anything that was amiss. You would think that a place with this much chaos would make it harder to find anything let alone one person but for Seth it made it easier. If there was one thing that the file full of its limited information had taught Seth was that this guy was far from careless. He wouldn't risk anything that might loosen his tongue. The rest of the people in this place shared no such caution. So find the guy who can walk a straight line and that was probably who Seth was looking for.

He hadn't been searching for more than five minutes when something caught his eyes. His eyes darted to what had caught his attention and and, confirming his previous suspicions to be true, he found Rosa.

†††††

So there is part one!!!! Most of this collection will be one shots but seeing as this z alone is over seven thousand words I figured I needed to split them up. I will hopefully be able to post the next part very soon. It needs a few touch ups and changes but.other than that its.practically done. This took SOOO much research its not even funny. I'm pretty sure trip advisor things I'm moving to Belize. Anyway I really hope you all like it, it is probably one of my favorite fics to date so let me know what you think. I apologize for any mistakes you may find. Let me know what adventures you want Seth to have in this book or any other requests you have!!!!!

[youbloodymadgenius]

Stuck with you (Modern!Ivar x reader)

wA/N: This is for @lisinfleur‘s Quarantine Challenge. Thanks love 💖

I’ve been very inactive lately, my mind filled with worries... Stuck with you is not my best work, but at least I’ve been able to write again. Writing sex is not my strong suit. Sorry.

the gif belongs to @honestsycrets​ 🌻

@inforapound 🌺💐🌺 Thanks my friend ❤️

Summary: Your roommate swearing and screaming at the top of his lungs, you end up coming out of your room and going to see him. What happens next is... out of control.

Warnings: explicit sex; swear words; no plot AT ALL.

Words: 2745

"FUUUUUCK!!!"

Exasperated,you roll your eyes before immersing yourself again in the captivating historical novel you're reading. 

Less than five seconds later, your attention is drawn away by a heavy thud – no doubt some kind of object crashing into the wall – shortly followed afterwards by another loud "FUUUUUUCK!"

Sighing deeply, you place a bookmark between the pages of your book, put it on the night table and eventually get out of bed, checking the time on your clock.

7:45am. Certainly too early for you to silently tolerate your rommate's screams.

Crossing hastily the room dressed in nothing but your panties and a long t-shirt, you take in a big gasp of air before opening the door.  

"FUCKING BULLSHIT!!!"

Your hand still on the doorknob, the door ajar, his scream this time causes you to jerk. 

Reaching the living room, the first thing you notice is the remote control, or maybe it's a phone you're not sure, on the floor, shattered into a thousand pieces. The next one is that Ivar is screaming again. "FUUUUUCK!! I JUST CAN'T FUCKING STAND IT! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!"

You then spot him, sitting on the couch in gray sweatpants and a withe t-shirt. Furrowed brows, clenched jaw, tensed features… If you still had any doubts, you don't have any now. He's angry. Very angry. 

Taking two cautious steps forward, you know better than to get too close to him, so that you can avoid any unexpected flying objects. Hands on your hips, the strong breath you release gets his attention. "FUCK Y/N!"

Knowing his outburst isn't actually directed at you, you keep calm, speaking softly. "What's wrong, Ivar?"

"WHAT'S WRONG?? YOU'RE FUCKING ASKING ME WHAT'S WRONG, Y/N?? I'M SURE YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT'S WRONG! FUCK!!!" He spits at you, his hands waving all over the place, and you can physically feel his wrath. You’ve never seen him like that. Of course, Ivar is often quick-tempered, but that… that is something else, and it's quite unsettling.

Still, you force yourself to stay calm, inhaling deeply before answering, your voice gentle. 

"No Ivar, I don't." 

You're not exactly lying. Of course, you have some idea, but you can't be sure. The truth is, you two barely know each other. If you've been living under the same roof for almost six months, it's not really by choice. You were desesperate to find a room and Ivar was looking for a roommate. Or more specifically, Ivar had to find a roommate. He lived alone for two years, but after a nasty fall that put him back in a wheelchair for weeks, his overprotective mother decided it was her job to interfere. The deal was this: find a roommate or come back home. When you met them – yes, his mother was there, after all, she owned the apartment – your conversation sounded weirdly like a job interview. After two hours and a lot of nosy questions from Aslaug, you got the job, huh sorry, the room, the fact that you're a nursing student surely helpful. 

And frankly, living here turned out not so bad.

The huge apartment is perfectly equipped, its furnitures luxurious, the fridge always full, thanks to  Ivar's mother, and your room probably bigger than your parents' house. Ivar is certainly not the most congenial person but he's mostly never around. Between his doctoral thesis and his unofficial involvement in the family corporation, he leaves most of the time at dawn and doesn't return until late at night, except on days when his legs hurt too much. On those days, he usually locks himself in his room. The few times you run into him in the apartment, he barely acknowledges your presence, doesn't really talk to you – you're well aware that he'd prefer to live alone – yet he's never directly hostile. 

Plus, you would be lying saying he's unattractive. Truth be told, Ivar is a sight to behold. Gorgeous blue eyes, strong features, sharp cheekbones and high forehead, sign of his obvious intelligence. Ivar is, plain and simple, stunningly handsome. 

So yeah, all in all, living with him isn't hard. Ordinarily. But now, the ordinary is not part of your lives. Because of this virus, schools, theaters and shops have been closed for two weeks and you and Ivar are mostly stuck at home. He's been grumpy ever since, but you've managed to keep him pretty calm, at least enough for your new shared meals to go well.

Right now, you're not sure there's anything you can do to avoid the upcoming storm. 

As Ivar glares at you, eyes wide open, obviously bewildered, you simply repeat, "I don't." Grabbing his crutch, you think for a moment he's going to stand up, and maybe that's what he was going to do, but finally he just throws it angrily accross the room, still being careful no to aim it at you, shouting again,

"FUCK YOU DON'T!!! HAVEN'T YOU HEARD THE FUCKING NEWS, Y/N???" 

You give him a confused look. "What news, Ivar? It's not even eight in the morning, I woke up not long ago and I was reading." Explaining yourself is useless but you feel compelled to do it, for whatever reason.

"YOU ARE FUCKING STUPID, AREN'T YOU? YOU SLEEPING WON'T STOP EARTH FROM FUCKING SPINNING, YOU KNOW THAT?" His tone scornful, pointing to his temple with his index finger in a universally obvious gesture, he's slowly getting on your nerves. 

Getting closer, you take advantage of the fact that he's sitting and you're standing, hovering over him, one eyebrow raised. He's clearly not impressed, but it feels good anyway. Small victories are victories nonetheless. "Don't give me shit, Ivar. I'm not dumb and you know that. Just spill the f–", biting your tongue, you stop before saying what seems to be his favorite word today, "spill the news Ivar!"

"TOTAL LOCKDOWN!!!" 

Shocked, you fight the urge to take a few steps back while his screams don't stop. He doesn't notice your discomfort, caught up in his own anger. "THAT'S WHAT THE FUCKING STATSMINISTER ANNOUNCED LATE LAST NIGHT!! A FUCKING TOTAL LOCKDOWN! FOR AT LEAST THREE FUCKING WEEKS!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? WE'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GO OUT AT ALL, EXCEPT FOR GROCERY SHOPPING. WHICH DOESN'T CHANGE ANYTHING SINCE I DO IT ONLINE, I KNOW! STILL, I WAS SUPPOSED TO FLY BACK AND FORTH TO LONDON THIS WEEK BUT THE PLANES ARE GROUNDED. ALL THE FUCKING PLANES! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? WE'RE FUCKING STUCK HERE, Y/N, 24/7!! ALL BECAUSE OF THIS FUCKING CORONABULLSHIT!!"

Waiting to make sure he's done with his rant, you give him a disapproving look. "Ivar, this is not fucking bullshit. This is a life-threatening virus. People are dying all over the world and the quarantine is the only way. You know that. We knew it was coming. You can't be selfish, not in such circumstances."

You know he knows you're right. Ivar may be mad right now, but he's still smart enough to undersand the urgency of the situation. Yet, he's not quite ready to admit it, at least not entirely. 

Even so, his voice is soft at first. "Yeah, yeah, of course you're right." Running his fingers through his dishelved hair, he sighs before getting carried away once again. "But fuck Y/N!!!" Ivar takes an heavy breath and releases it loudly, shaking his head frustratedly.

And here we are again. Three-two-one-zero… Go!  "BUT FUCK Y/N! FUCK!! IT FUCKING SUCKS, CAN'T YOU AGREE? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO, HUH? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? WE ARE STUCK HERE, LIKE WE ARE IN A FUCKING PRISON!! WE ARE FUCKING STUCK HERE TOGETHER AND THE FUCK IT SUCKS!!"

Hearing his words, you're not sure if you should be amused or rather offended, finally opting for irony. "Sure, it's true that's I'm so lucky to be living with you, while you're stuck with the most boring rommate. I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to apologize for existing, right?"

Ivar freezes, speechless. Wow. It's not something that happens a lot. Small victories blah, blah, blah… Nervously wiggling his fingers, he gives you a constrained, almost apologetic look while biting his lower lip. "Fuck Y/N," his voice speaks softly, "I didn't mean it like that." He lowers his gaze, his hands now rubbing his thighs. You can tell he tries very hard to stay calm and you can't help but think it's adorable. "You know that… Fuck! Y/N, I'm not good at that, and we both know that we didn't choose each other, but I'm fucking grateful it's you who's living with me, and not some dumbass. And even though I'm a spoiled brat and probably a fucking pain in the ass, I know being stuck here with you won't be hell on Earth. Still, just being stuck here sucks. IT FUCKING SUCKS!!!"

That's the exact moment when something switches in your mind. It all comes up out of the blue and you're suddenly aware of the warmth in your lower belly, of your increasing heart rate, of your clammy hands… You have to make a prodigious effort not to lick your lips. Ivar is… flustered, akward, still angry and cocky yet soft and almost sweet and seeing him like this makes you feel things. Unexpected things.  

You can't think straight anymore. Maybe lockdown is driving you crazy too, after all. Or maybe it's because it's been months since you've… Or it's all Ivar's fault. Yeah, that's it, it's got to be his fault. Because with is huge blue eyes, his reddened cheeks, his chiseled upper body and the anger still flowing out of him, he's… he's… he's…

… insanely hot. So FUCKING insanely hot.

Checking discretely with one hand that no drool is leaking from the corner of your mouth, you go on right after. "Maybe you should stop talking about it and just do it, Ivar. You know, to take the pressure off." Your words are rushed and you know you're blushing, but you can’t control your brain anymore. It's probably not really functional right now anyway. 

Baffled, Ivar looks at you without understanding. "Wh- What? What are you fucking talking about?" His scowl is back, and you realize it makes him even more attractive. 

“Oh Ivar, don't play dumb, you know what I'm saying, don't you?  Fuck and fucking… Those are the only words you seem to know. Stop saying them. Do it. Just do it. I bet you'll be more relaxed after." Okay, you're obviously out of your mind. You couldn't care less though, your only focus at the moment being the sparkle in your inner core. 

"What-?" His chocked voice gives away how stunned he is. "But… with… with whom, Y/N?"

The answer is an obvious one, right? At least to you, but probably to Ivar too, since he's stuck there with you and only you. You can see in his eyes that yes, he knows what you're implying. Still, the bewilderment written all over his face a clear indication that he can't bring himself to believe it. You don't blame him. The impression you give is always that of a (too) serious person. Ivar doesn't know who you really are. You're not even sure you know it yourself… And right now, it doesn't matter. 

Because yeah, disbelief is obvious on his face, but lust even more so … oh gods… Gods… Slightly confounded and blinking a few times, but looking at you like you're a prey, Ivar is, if at all possible, even hotter than before. And that's what matters.

 Winking at him, you quickly take off your t-shirt, swinging it accross the room. His mouth ajar, his gaze is that of a toddler, sitting under the tree, contemplating his gifts on Christmas morning.

"What do you think, Ivar?" His eyebrows furrowed, you don't allow him time to respond, straddling his lap. You're not sure he's breathing, clearly incredulous, almost skeptical. And gods, how beautiful he is. You can't resist. You won't resist. When you crash your lips together, you stop thinking. 

The akward moment disappears quickly, replaced by a shared eagerness. Ivar kisses you back, his need now as great as yours, his tongue invading and claiming your mouth. You can't help but moan while feeling him growning against your clit. "Fuck Y/N!", he mumbles as you rock your hips purposefully against his. Rewarded with a loud growl, you smile, never breaking the intense kiss. 

All off a sudden, you don't know how he manages to do so, you're lying on your back on the wide couch, Ivar's body all over yours, warming you from the inside out. His shirt gone, his callouse hands are everywhere, roaming your body – your jaw, sides, belly, neck, navel, even squeezing your cheeks as you raise your hips – his mouth on your tits, nibbling and sucking. Digging your fingers into his back, you release a gasping breath before kissing each and every part of exposed skin he has to offer, his taste so overwhelming, you can't get enough, moaning and panting endlessly, your heart already pounding hard in your chest.

As he slips his fingers under your panties, your breath stutters, your whole body jerking and tensing when his fingertips brush over your clit. You can feel him smile against your skin, proud and smug, huffing a small snort just before parting your folds.

Slipping a finger inside you, a low moan rattles in his throat, his wonder at how wet you are obvious in his eyes. When his middle finger begins to glide in and out, you grab his wrist hard, a frustrated growl escaping your mouth.  

"Stop it, Ivar." Muttering against his neck, you put your free hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly, his gaze an universal what-the-fuck-gaze. Without loosening your grip on his wrist, you let your fingers run down his chest, your hand grabbing his waistband. 

"Don't waste our time with foreplay." Rushing your words, you give him a short yet rapturous kiss. "Save it for later, will you? We'll have a whole lockdown to do that." Yanking his pants and briefs down his hips, you then slip off your panties, Ivar leaning on his forearms, his biceps flexing. Looking at you with desire in his blackened eyes, he releases a husky whimper of yearning as you grab his hard length. "Fuck Y/N!" he hisses, panting and shivering. 

"That's it, Ivar! Do it. Fuck me. I need you inside me. Now!"  Your breath coming in shallow gasps, you squeeze his cock, brushing it against your core.

That's all it takes for his control to snap as he drives into you, stroking you from the inside. He thrusts straight away into you, hard and heavy. It's not gentle, it's rough and primal, exactly what you need. Grasping and squeezing handfuls of his ass, your hips snap upward and you groan against his skin and into his mouth as he hits you from all angles, going deeper inside you than you thought possible. Your body jerking back, your hands cling to his shoulders, allowing you to feel his quivering muscles under your fingertips. Your skin feels like fire as he keeps pumping relentlessly, his tongue thrusting into your mouth. 

Your breathing uneven, you know he's as close as you are as your walls clench around him. Pushing your hips upward and back, faster and faster, his thrusts become erratic. "Fuck!", he roars once more, your hands back on his ass again, your body starting to shake. 

Crying out, your body bows upward. The muscles of your inner walls constrincting tightly around him, you scream his name, exploding all around him, his thick and hot seed spilling inside you, your orgasm hitting you in strong waves as his mouth seeks yours for a final sloppy kiss.

Sated to the point of exhaustion, Ivar falls heavily onto you, shaking and sweating. Not letting himself slide out of you just yet, his hands lazily stroke your sides as your fingers run along his back. 

Out of breath, you both need a few minutes to come down from that high, Ivar being the first to talk, his voice still shaky. "There's no fucking way we're not fucking doing this again!"

Bursting out laughing, you give his cheek a peck before leaning on one elbow. Rolling your eyes playfully, you gently push a strand of hair away from his forehead. "You're fucking right. But for now, Ivar, you know what?  Give it a rest and just fucking shut up!"

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @saldelys @waiting4inspiration @lisinfleur @hecohansen31 @a-mess-of-fandoms @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @lonewolf471

[yetanotheremptypage]

Fic: Kiss Me Once (‘Cause You Know I’ve Had A Long Night)

Read on AO3

SUMMARY: Getting married is more tiring than it looks, but Lara Jean has Peter. Always and forever. (To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before movieverse; spoilers for TATB3)

No one had warned Lara Jean on just how much effort it took to get married. Not the planning— she was proud to say that she had helped plan two weddings prior to her own, so she felt confident in her ability to both get good deals and make it look like something she’d dreamed about at age 10. (And most years since then. But that was beside the point.) No, it was the actual weekend of getting married that she hadn’t been warned about.

Her dad and Trina’s wedding hadn’t been a big to-do, and despite being a bridesmaid, at seventeen, Lara Jean didn’t partake in all the bridal festivities. She did when Margot and Ravi got married a couple years ago, as the maid of honor, so she planned those festivities and had a great time. And most importantly, they happened well before the wedding itself.

Kitty, however, was her maid of honor—a decision made years ago in a three-way spit shake—and while Kitty respected her sister’s more eclectic taste, there was absolutely no way Lara Jean was getting married without an alcohol-fueled bachelorette party. Her younger sister was busy with grad school pretty much straight up to the wedding weekend, and Lara Jean’s bridesmaids were scattered across the country, so she made the decision to have her party two days before getting married. Which was… maybe not her best move.

She woke up on the day of the rehearsal dinner with a pounding headache and a glass of water and an aspirin already waiting on her bedside table. Peter had left for work, a half-day before school went on summer break. He’d gone to Stanford planning to major in history and figure the rest out later, but he took an education class on a whim second semester and absolutely fell in love with it. He got to work at an elementary school as part of the course, and he spent the whole semester talking all about the kids he worked with that day.

Now, he taught sixth grade history and absolutely adored it. In the spring, he coached the boys’ lacrosse team, too, which seemed to give him more stress than teaching. He’d tried to get her to apply for the vacant English position, attempting to bribe her with the chance to eat lunch together every day, but she loved working as an editor at the publishing house she’d been working with since junior year of college, so she declined. She was a little jealous that she had to go straight back to work once they got back from their honeymoon in Korea and he didn’t, but she’d get her revenge come the fall and he had to stay up late grading and writing lesson plans.

Both of her sisters joined her within the hour, equally hungover, to go over the list of everything left to do before she walked down the aisle at 5 PM tomorrow evening on a rooftop overlooking the city. Peter had joked they should get married on the Adler High lacrosse field. She’d seriously considered it for about thirty seconds, but getting married in New York felt more romantic. Not just because it was prettier, but because New York had become their home. It was where they lived together for the first time, where they’d become the people they were today. She wasn’t marrying the Peter she tackled on the track, or that she broke up with in the school parking lot (twice), or even the one she danced with in her dad’s wedding tent. It was only right they get married in the place they'd beaten all the odds on high school relationships. Because marriage was about stepping into the future, promising to grow and evolve for the rest of your life. Not about capturing the past.

And in order to that, she spent her day making sure the out-of-town guests arrived safely, checking over the venue, confirming catering, and praying to make it to the rehearsal—and, most importantly, the rehearsal dinner—in one piece.

Which she did. Barely. She did say “Peter Matthew Covey” when they practiced vows, but she was a little distracted by her little cousin, their flower girl, trying to eat one of the little wads of paper they’d given her to practice throwing down the aisle. (Peter didn't seem to mind, answering to "Covey" for the rest of the weekend.) Dinner was nice, family and friends appearing to get along and lovely toasts from her dad and Peter’s mom. But then Trevor whisked Peter away to their hotel before she even got to properly say goodbye, so she, much to Chris’s displeasure, moped the entire subway ride back to her Peter-less apartment.

He called her around midnight, though, claiming that he couldn’t see her on a voice call so it didn’t ruin anything. She complained about how much her feet hurt from the heels she’d worn and he told her about his day at work. When she woke up the next morning, it was too her alarm blaring under her ear, meaning she fell asleep on the phone. She didn’t even remember doing so, but she had both a ‘Night, Covey’ and a ‘Happy wedding day!’ text from Peter waiting for her when she woke up. Some things never changed.

Her dad cried when he saw her, and he gave her a letter that she was shocked to discover was from her mother. Margot hadn’t mentioned getting one on her wedding day, so she kept hers secret, too, and did her best not to ruin the make-up Gen had spent an hour on. She’d never expected to end college calling Gen one of her best friends, again, but she was immensely glad for it. Chris and Gen still weren’t close, but they’d agreed to a truce for the wedding weekend. Lara Jean still put her other college best friend, Zoey, in between them in the bridesmaid lineup, just to be safe.

Peter cried when he saw her, too, and when he said his vows. They’d written each other letters, to be shared once alone, and said generic vows instead, the same ones her dad and Trina had exchanged. They posed for what must’ve been thousands of pictures, Kitty and Owen trying to one-up each other in half of them, and then suddenly they were dancing their first dance to the same song they’d danced to the night they signed their new contract.

She loved her friends, and her family, and Peter’s friends and Peter’s family, but she just wanted to sit and eat and laugh at Kitty’s speech in which she took full credit for the wedding. Instead, she barely left the dance floor, had to beg Margot to guard her food from being taken away, and smiled for even more “candid” photos. She did get to laugh at Kitty’s speech, though. (And Trevor’s, but Kitty’s was better.)

Once they’d been sent off to their hotel room and finally got to be alone, Lara Jean collapsed directly on the bed.

“You good, wife?” Peter teased, plopping down next to her.

“I’m so tired. I’m never getting married again.”

“Well I should hope not.”

“Just do me now. I’ll lie here, and you do whatever you need to do to make it all official, and then I’ll sleep for a couple of years. Wake me then.”

“Sounds romantic.” She turned her head to look at him, his teasing smirk so reminiscent of their younger years. He looked the same, really. But now he was her husband. It made her giddy. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite so tired.

He pushed his head up onto his arm and said, “How about, we get changed into more comfy clothes, I’ll pop that champagne over there, and we can read our letters and gossip about our wedding guests? And then maybe later we’ll do other stuff.”

“I love you, Peter Kavinsky.”

“I love you, too,” he said, and he kissed her, tangling his hands into the hair that she’d left mostly down just for him. She rolled onto her side to reach him better, and then just onto him, and their plans changed rather quickly.

They stayed up for several hours more than she’d intended, in the end both of them all but collapsing into bed. Peter wrapped his arms around her to spoon, and she shut her eyes, trying to remember this moment, always and forever.

“Night, Kavinsky,” she said, like she said every night, and he kissed her temple.

“Night, Kavinsky,” he replied, and it was the greatest thing she’d ever heard.

[prydon]

oh i adore ur writing, do u take prompts by any chance? if u do, would u ever consider writing a fic inspired by the recent drunk juno and smitten peter art? thank u, have a nice day 💞

thank you for liking my writing!!! :D tbh i haven’t considered myself enough of a fic writer to take prompts in years, but i loved that art and i love writing jupeter so much that i just had to give this a go.

so here you go! inspired by this WONDERFUL art by @honeyjarr. you can read it on ao3 here or down below! 

set post-man in glass but pre jupeter being in an established relationship. CWs for alcohol consumption, brief reference to sarah steel being sarah steel, minor injuries, and non-explicit talking/joking about sex.

----

Nureyev had never seen Juno Steel drunk before.

For all his insistence that he was ‘getting drunker by the second’ back in his apartment on that fated night when Nureyev had gifted him a name and kiss, Nureyev knew he had been far from truly drunk, then. Juno was a broad man, and one with a long history of drinking. Unlike Nureyev, he held his liquor well.

Now, on board the Carte Blanche, he had been trying to cut down on his alcohol consumption. It was part of his recovery, part of leaving behind the mess of poor coping mechanisms and bad decisions that used to make up Detective Juno Steel.

So when Buddy had pulled out the bottle, it was only with assurance from Jet and Juno that they were both okay with it- and when Juno had asked her to pour him a glass, he did so with the promise that he wasn’t using the alcohol to deal with any bad feelings that ought to be handled another way.

“Rita and I used to get drunk sometimes and watch the lowest-rated streams we could find,” he said. “It was…fun.”

Rita nodded enthusiastically. “Mistah Steel would always start yelling and throwing popcorn at the screen!”

“Very well, then,” Buddy said. “I trust your judgement, Juno.”

Nureyev kept one eye on Juno as he sipped his own drink, curious. What kind of a drunk was Juno? Sobbing? Angry? …Handsy?

He folded his hope for the latter away.

Nureyev seldom ever drank, and never on the job. It was too risky. Drinking meant losing your inhibitions, losing control over your emotions, and if there was anything that Nureyev desperately didn’t want to lose, it was that. His persona was perfectly crafted. He couldn’t risk letting a bottle of wine or liquor crumble it.

He was already tipsy after his first glass, which was embarrassing. He intended to stop there- to perhaps ask for a refill, but only pretend to sip it before surreptitiously dumping it. As soon as the second one was poured, however, he found himself actually drinking it.

Something about these people made him feel safe enough to allow some loss of inhibition. That realization terrified him, but he kept drinking nonetheless.

Juno had almost finished his third glass, and only now seemed to be feeling the effects of it. He was talking more loudly than he had been before, and his eyes were slightly unfocused. He shot Nureyev a glance and the thief took another sip, mostly just to hide the blush that was creeping up his face courtesy of both the alcohol and the sight of Juno, who was looking handsomely disheveled with his hair mussed and his sweater slipped down around his shoulders.

After Jet excused himself to bed early, they somehow ended up in a game of Never Have I Ever, which Nureyev had never heard of but Juno insisted was a staple among schoolkids in Oldtown.

“All right!” Rita said. “Never have I ever…done it in a public place.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow. “If by ‘it’, you mean sexual intercourse…” He took a drink, and then nearly spat it back out when he saw Juno drink, too.

“What?” Juno said innocently. “You drank.”

“You’re both gross,” Vespa growled at them.

“Really? In all your life, you’ve never once given in to the heat of the moment?” Nureyev asked, trying to distract himself from his own brain, which was currently insistent on conjuring up artist’s interpretations of Juno on a park bench, or in a theater, or-

“It’s private! You do it inside!”

“Sometimes you just don’t have many options!” Juno protested.

“Ugh, whatever. Here, I’ll go next…”

Nureyev was very, very bad at the game, as it turned out. What could he say: he was an adventurous man, and one who’d lived a rich life. He wasn’t going to apologize for that. It didn’t hurt that Juno was drinking almost as often as he was, either. He carefully filed away all of the lady’s responses to the various statements, mentally marking some as being in desperate need of further follow up.

Juno Steel had never swum in the ocean.

Juno Steel had set a cop car on fire.

Juno Steel had participated in a foursome.

It was all very important information. Nureyev only hoped he’d actually remember it tomorrow. That was seeming less and less likely, the tipsier he got. He tried to take small sips throughout the game, but by the time it had ended, he knew he was gone. He’d regret letting that happen once he was sober, of course, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I think that’s enough for this evening,” Buddy said after a while, seeming to sense that both Nureyev and Juno were looking rather worse for the wear.

“One more!” Rita insisted. “Never have I ever…almost fallen out a window ‘cause I was chasing after a love letter.”

“Rita!” Juno exclaimed. “I told you that in confidence! Plus, that doesn’t count. It’s targeting! That’s…against the rules!”

“There ain’t no rules, Mistah Steel!”

“Ugh, fine,” Juno said, and drank.

Nureyev couldn’t help being curious, and even- ridiculously- jealous. Who had written Juno a love letter? Who had Juno cared so much about that even he, acrophobic as he was, had been willing to nearly jump out a window to save a note from them?

By all means, it could have happened decades ago. There was no reason to be envious. Nureyev had realized that he was prone to envy when it came to Juno Steel, however, and the alcohol was likely just heightening the emotion.

“Mistah Ransom’s got a funny look on his face,” Rita commented.

“Yeah, ‘cause he knows it was his letter,” Juno grumbled.

“Really!? Mistah Steel, you never told me that!”

“…Didn’t come up.”

Nureyev froze, feeling something warm spread through him. Ah. “You…kept my note? I didn’t realize.”

“Don’t have it anymore. It got lost somewhere along the way. It’s been…a hectic past few months,” Juno said, sounding genuinely upset by the loss. Then he frowned. “What, Ransom, did you really not realize Rita was talking about your note?”

“I…”

A wide smile spread over Juno’s face. “Oh, my god. Your expression a moment ago…were you jealous of yourself!?”

Nureyev felt himself turn beet red. “N- no.”

“You were!”

Juno burst out laughing. Unlike his usual laughs, which on the rare occasions that they surfaced were quiet and restrained, almost as though he didn’t believe he was deserving of laughter, this one was loud and unburdened. It was a full body laugh, and it lit Juno up so beautifully that Nureyev could almost forget that it was at was at his expense.

Nureyev could guess, then, what kind of drunk Juno was. He was the kind whose current predominate emotion, whatever it was, was exacerbated by the alcohol. When he was sad, he’d end up crying into his drinks. When he was angry, there would be yelling and picking fights.

Right now, Juno was happy.

Even just the flickering, uncertain smiles he had shot Nureyev during their mission to retrieve the map had been enough to nearly bowl the thief over, and now here he was. Smiling a smile big enough to cut the moon in half.

“You know, one time Benzaiten won an award for having the Galaxy’s Best Smile. Can you believe that?!”

Nureyev had never known Juno’s brother, of course, and all he knew of him now came from those little glimpses that Juno gave him when he felt safe enough to voice them. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Benzaiten had deserved the accolade, though, if he had indeed had the same smile as Juno.

Juno definitely had the best smile in the entire galaxy. In all the galaxies, surely. And it made Nureyev feel emotions of an enormity that he had never before experienced. He wanted to live in that smile. He wanted to make a home in it. He wanted to lean forward, grab Juno by the face, and kiss him in front of everyone. He wanted to feel that smile against his lips.

It took every ounce of self restraint he had not to do so, and he gripped his glass, begging the last sober vestiges of himself to keep him from acting on any ridiculous notions.

He didn’t kiss Juno, thankfully.

He did do something else, though.

Crack.

“Oh. Dear,” he said. “These things aren’t very sturdy, are they?”

Before he could even realize what was happening, his glass had shattered to pieces in his hand, and his nice clothes that had surely cost the person he’d stolen them from several thousand creds were drenched in alcohol and littered with shards of glass.

“Nur- Ransom!” Juno exclaimed, immediately concerned, and in the moment all that Nureyev could think was how sad he was that the smile had vanished from the lady’s face. “What the hell happened?!”

“I believe I broke the glass.”

“Christ! Do you have the grip strength of a goddamn metal vice?” Juno’s voice sounded shocked and more than a little bit impressed. Nureyev couldn’t help feeling rather pleased about the latter. Then, suddenly, the ex-detective was back to looking concerned. “Ransom, you’re bleeding.”

He looked down at his hand. “Ah.”

“We- we need to get this cleaned up. Get you cleaned up,” Juno said. He swayed slightly as he made his way to Nureyev’s side to worriedly inspect his hand. If his drunkenness had been boosting his happiness before, it was now boosting his anxiety and fear.

“I’m all right,” Nureyev insisted. “Just a cut. Barely even hurts.” He didn’t want Juno to worry. He just wanted to see that smile again.

Vespa let out a long groan. “Ugggggggh. You two are the worst. I’ll go grab the nearest first aid kit. Ransom, Steel can get you your bandaid. I’m going to bed. You got this, Steel?”

Juno nodded. “I’ve patched myself up enough times to know how.”

“Great.”

She was back in a moment with the kit, handing it off to Juno before dragging Buddy off to bed.

“Good night, darlings,” Buddy said as she was pulled away. “Rita, I think you’d best leave them be, too.”

Rita frowned. “But what if they need my- Oooooooh. Okay.” She waved and winked comedically aggressively at Juno. “G’night, Mistah Steel and Mistah Ransom! Mistah Ransom, I hope you feel better soon!”

“Good night, Rita,” Nureyev said, feeling vaguely lightheaded. It wasn’t from the wound- that wasn’t nearly bad enough to warrant such a response. If he had to guess, it was from Juno being so close that he could feel his breath. From the soft, reverent way he was currently cleaning the cuts on Nureyev’s hands.

Juno looked up to watch Rita go. “What was that about?”

“No idea.”

Juno’s next words were softer and slightly slurred. “…Are you mad at me?”

Nureyev stared at him, completely lost. “What? Why would I be mad at you?”

“I was…I was laughing at you. Then you broke the glass. Did you break it because you were mad? Ma did that sometimes. I- I shouldn’t have laughed. Shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry-”

“Hush, Juno,” Nureyev said. “I’m not angry in the slightest. Really, it was rather funny. And I’m touched that you went that far just to rescue my note.”

“Then…why?”

“Why did I break the glass? I suppose I underestimated my own strength.”

“Why were you gripping it so hard, though?!”

What could he tell Juno? He studied his hand, not wanting to admit the truth. He couldn’t very well say, I found your smile so beautiful that if I hadn’t held onto something as hard as I could, I would have surely lunged forward and kissed you right there.

He looked up to find Juno staring at him, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“I…did not mean to say that out loud,” Nureyev said. “Apologies, Juno. I seem to be rather drunk.”

“You don’t say.” Juno snorted. A glimmer of a smile reappeared on his face, to Nureyev’s delight. “That’s really why, though? You wanted to kiss me?”

“Well, yes,” Nureyev said, flustered. “You have a very…nice smile.”

“Well, I’m not stopping you.”  

Juno suddenly looked embarrassed, almost shy. Hopeful, too.

Nureyev had lost the ability to think coherent thoughts.

“Oh. Okay,” he stammered.

He gently took Juno’s face in his freshly bandaged hand as he’d imagined doing not much earlier, and pulled him into a deep kiss. The lady’s lips were as soft and warm as always. They still tasted like drink, but also something so purely Juno that Nureyev was certain he could have gotten drunk on that taste alone.

He shifted, moving closer. Juno mirrored his actions, shuffling across the carpet to reach him, and then-

“Ow!”

Juno swore and broke away, to Nureyev’s dismay. It took him a moment to figure out what was wrong: there was still broken glass on the carpet.

“Are you all right?” Nureyev asked.

“Mm. Just pricked me. We should really get this cleaned up.” He hesitated. “On second thought, picking up glass while drunk might not be a good idea. Let’s just…mark it off so no one steps on it and then go to bed. We can deal with it in the morning.”

They did just that. Nureyev hated that even though Juno had drunk much more than him, he was the one leaning on Juno for balance as they walked back to his room. He couldn’t stop thinking about that smile. He wondered what it would take to make Juno smile like that while sober, and decided that whatever it was, he was going to figure it out.

When they reached the door to Nureyev’s room, Juno paused.

“Make sure you drink some water before you go to sleep,” he said. “And don’t use your right hand more than you have to, so it can heal.”

“I know, I know.”

There was an awkward but companionable silence for a moment. Nureyev wanted more than anything to invite Juno into his room to stay the night, but he knew he shouldn’t. They weren’t there yet, and besides, that wasn’t a step that he wanted to take while under the influence.

“I can’t believe you really broke a glass because of me,” Juno said finally, smirking.

“Oh, shush. It’s your own fault. If you hadn’t…looked like that, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, I’m so sorry. In the future I’ll refrain from ‘looking like that’.”

“Please don’t,” Nureyev said immediately.

“…Okay. Then I won’t.”

Nureyev moved to open his door, then hesitated, chewing his lip. “Juno…there’s something I need to ask you.”

Juno immediately knit his brow, his shoulders tensing. “What is it?”

“About the time you had sex in a public place-”

The ex-detective groaned loudly and gave him a good-natured shove. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Could you at least tell me about the foursome, then?”

“No! God, I am never playing Never Have I Ever with you guys again. Good night, Nureyev.”

Nureyev grinned. “Good night, my dear.”

[arcticdementor]

[This is the fourteenth of many finalists in the book review contest. It’s not by me - it’s by an ACX reader who will remain anonymous until after voting is done, to prevent their identity from influencing your decisions. I’ll be posting about two of these a week for several months. When you’ve read all of them, I’ll ask you to vote for your favorite, so remember which ones you liked. If you like reading these reviews, check out point 3 here for a way you can help move the contest forward by reading lots more of them - SA]

What went wrong in the 1970s? Since then, growth and productivity have slowed, average wages are stagnant, visible progress in the world of "atoms" has practically stopped - the Great Stagnation. About the only thing that has gone well are computers. How is it that we went from the typewriter to the smartphone, but we're still using practically the same cars and airplanes?

"Where is my Flying Car?", by J. Storrs Hall, is an attempt to answer that question. His answer is: the Great Stagnation was caused by energy usage flatlining, which was caused by our failure to switch to nuclear energy, which was caused by excessive regulation, which was caused by "green fundamentalism".

…

Before reading this book, I thought flying cars were just technologically infeasible, because flying takes too much energy. But Hall says we can and have built them ever since the 1930s. They got interrupted by the Great Depression (people were too poor to buy private airplanes), then WWII (airplanes were directed towards the war effort, not the market), then regulation mostly killed the private aviation industry. But technical feasibility was never the problem.

Hall spends a huge fraction of the book on pretty detailed technical discussion of flying cars. For example: the key technical issue is takeoff and landing, and there is a tough tradeoff between convenient takeoff/landing and airspeed (and cost, and ease of operation). It’s interesting reading. But let’s return to the larger issue of nuclear power.

Nuclear power started off well; “the cost of nuclear plants was decreasing by about 25% for each doubling of capacity in the 50s and 60s”. Then, in 1977, Jimmy Carter established the Department of Energy. Costs immediately skyrocketed, and never came back down. It’s hard to briefly convey the regulatory issues because it’s death by a thousand cuts.

…

Why is regulation so crippling? The public is wrongly terrified of nuclear energy, but they shouldn’t be. Radiation killed 0 people at Fukishima; the radiophobic evacuation killed >1000 (“Some 1600 of the evacuees died from causes ranging from privation in refugee camps (notably loss of access to health care) to suicide”), and the tsunami/earthquake killed >10000. Hall quotes an estimate from the Guardian that Chernobyl - by far the most serious nuclear disaster - killed “approximately” 43 people.

Why are people so terrified? Hall says we were a victim of our own success from World War II. Before the War, America was an individualistic nation. Then  came the Depression, the New Deal, and most of all the War. America won the war with a “completely centralized bureaucratic government structure” - and it was a huge success. And for a while, that worked: the generation forged in the war had a “cooperative “same boat” spirit” that “[made] the centralized corporate structures work.” But then it didn’t. Hall blames the hippies:

“The Baby Boomers—my generation—split into two cultures which, as far as I can see, not only didn’t agree on values but which fundamentally couldn’t even understand each other. Ask any Boomer what was the greatest, most pivotal event of 1969. Half of us will say the Apollo 11 moon landing. The other half will say Woodstock. Both sets, hearing the other’s opinion, will emit an honestly uncomprehending “Huh!?!?” From the Fifties to the Seventies, the average American followed the lifecycle of Sinclair Lewis’ Babbitt from conformity and cooperation to non-conformist rebellion in a search for personal meaning. The corporate state worked with the cooperating, self-sacrificing Greatest Generation. It didn’t work so well with Aquarians.”

His theory, basically, is that the next generation - the Baby Boomers - got spoiled. Automation had come into its own, and people didn’t need to struggle for survival anymore. America was on top of the world, and there weren’t enough real challenges to work on. But people need challenges. So they made some up.

Hall says the most damaging strain, still common today, is “green fundamentalism”, the idea that human agency over nature is fundamentally bad. An early example is Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, which got DDT banned on the grounds that it was causing cancer; in reality the cancer increase was from smoking, and from technology improving living conditions (the healthier you are, the more likely you’ll survive long enough to get killed by cancer). “The Green religion has essentially superceded Christianity as the default religion of western civilization, especially in academic circles”. Hall is dismissive of climate change, citing an estimate that it will cost only a few percentage of GDP by 2100 even in the worst case. (This is something that always confused me; there’s such a big gap between quantitative economic estimates of climate change and qualitative ones. My impression is the quantitative ones are way too optimistic. Hall does not agree with me). Anyway, he says, climate change is all the more reason to embrace clean nuclear power and flying cars (highways use a lot of land; if flying cars replaced highways, that land could be returned to nature).

The upshot is there is strong intellectual skepticism about increasing energy usage. As government has taken much more centralized power, “we have let complacent nay-sayers metamorphose from pundits uttering ‘It can’t be done’ predictions a century ago, into bureaucrats uttering ‘It won’t be done’ prescriptions today.” As a result, “a lot of inventiveness and engineering resources got shifted from doing new things, and doing things better, to doing the same old things, usually not as well, but using less energy.” Our machines use less energy, but they don’t work any better. Is single-mindedly improving efficiency really the best use of our time? And anyway, the efficiency gains - while real - are basically on the same trendline as they were before all this regulation. The difference is that we used to have efficiency *and* more energy every year; now all we get is efficiency. The twin tragedies are that so many talented people went into activism instead of engineering, and that the activism was so often opposed to progress.

…

Hall blames public funding for science. Not just for nanotech, but for actually hurting progress in general. (I’ve never heard anyone before say government-funded science was bad for science!) “[The] great innovations that made the major quality-of-life improvements came largely before 1960: refrigerators, freezers, vacuum cleaners, gas and electric stoves, and washing machines; indoor plumbing, detergent, and deodorants; electric lights; cars, trucks, and buses; tractors and combines; fertilizer; air travel, containerized freight, the vacuum tube and the transistor; the telegraph, telephone, phonograph, movies, radio, and television—and they were all developed privately.” “A survey and analysis performed by the OECD in 2005 found, to their surprise, that while private R&D had a positive 0.26 correlation with economic growth, government funded R&D had a negative 0.37 correlation!” “Centralized funding of an intellectual elite makes it easier for cadres, cliques, and the politically skilled to gain control of a field, and they by their nature are resistant to new, outside, non-Ptolemaic ideas.” This is what happened to nanotech; there was a huge amount of buzz, culminating in $500 million dollars of funding under Clinton in 1990. This huge prize kicked off an academic civil war, and the fledgling field of nanotech lost hard to the more established field of material science. Material science rebranded as “nanotech”, trashed the reputation of actual nanotech (to make sure they won the competition for the grant money), and took all the funding for themselves. Nanotech never recovered.

Flying cars didn’t have the same issues; they were being developed privately. But regulation doomed them. Harold Pitcairn was almost successful in developing a flying car, but then in World War II the government nationalized his helicopter patents (they promised to give them back after the war, but reneged) and he spent the rest of his life in court. He won, 17 years after his death. Bruce Hallock had a promising design, but he sold a plane to a missionary group in Peru and was arrested as an “arms trafficker”. Robert Fulton had a successful prototype, “however, Fulton’s financial backers had become discouraged with the seemingly endless expense of meeting government production standards, and they withdrew their support.” Molt Taylor “was actually in serious negotiations with Ford as late as 1975 to have the Aerocar mass-produced. The monkeywrench was thrown into the negotiations by the FAA and the DOT. Taylor already had an airworthiness certificate for the Aerocar, granted by the CAA (predecessor of the FAA) after a delay of 7 years from its first flight. He claims that the agencies turned thumbs down on the Aerocar ‘because everybody would have one, and we couldn’t handle the [air] traffic.’ Airplane regulation has only gotten stricter: “The entire F.A.R. / A.I.M., which every airman is responsible for knowing, is 1085 pages long. At least it was in 2013; a new one comes out every year.” So in the end, we have none of these technologies. No flying cars, even though they were prototyped almost a hundred years ago. Some nuclear energy, but crippled, aged, feared, and hated. 3D printing, but no nanotech. No level 5. Because the state needs legibility, and progress is not legible. The bureaucratic incentives are to calcify. If no one does anything new, no one will do anything wrong.

…

The book is 550 pages long, so there’s a lot I didn’t cover. I thought the political/social analysis was its weakest aspect, basically a strongly worded but conventional version of the libertarian case against regulation, although I appreciated the detailed examples of how regulation harmed flying cars and nanotechnology (And I’ll admit I haven’t heard the libertarian case against funding science before!). I’m more convinced than ever that not embracing nuclear power was one of humanity’s worst mistakes (partially because I’m more afraid of climate change than Hall is). I found the book most valuable as a statement of “definite optimism” - a concrete vision of attainable yet extraordinary technological progress. I recommend it on that basis.

[aurorawest]

can you also do a director's commentary on "Fool for You"? 🐠 this is one of my favs 🥰

Yeah! Thank you for asking about this one! Since it’s over 6k words I’ll just grab the interesting parts, I hope that’s okay! Link on AO3.

First of all, I will just say, I was shocked by the response to this fic. I wrote it for Froststrange Week earlier this year, and it was by far the fluffiest fic I wrote for that event. It’s one of the fluffiest things I’ve written ever. I was actually nervous to post it...and I’ve written some very dark stuff that didn’t even give me pause before hitting the post button on AO3, haha. But this one? I distinctly remember my palms getting sweaty (gross) and having to walk away from my computer after I posted it, because I was so freaked out. But people liked it! It was probably my most popular Froststrange Week fic.

Onto the fic...

Loki craned his head, staring upwards as the massive shark moved smoothly and silently through the water overhead. He’d never seen anything like it, despite his one thousand and sixty years in the universe. It moved off, disappearing over rocks dappled with slow, turquoise sunlight.

“It’s a whale shark,” Stephen informed him, staring down at an informational plaque posted along the walkway. Loki had read all of them so far, but he’d stopped dead in his tracks in the glass tunnel when he’d seen the shark, too awed by it to move. Ahead of them and behind them, the screams and excited voices of school groups echoed, but the two of them were in a lull between throngs.

The prompts for the day that I used were ‘firsts’ and ‘aquarium date.’ The aquarium part was a no brainer for me, because I head canon that Loki is a big nature lover, and that he particularly loves the ocean.

Rays sailed through the water alongside the shark. Those, Loki was more familiar with. They’d had them on Asgard. Extinct now, of course. All of Asgard’s species, all its plants, animals, insects, all of it, were extinct. It was a depressing thought.

Okay, well, this is a fluffy fic, but obviously I’m incapable of writing pure fluff. It’s Loki, so there has to be some angst.

Always prone to depressing thoughts, Loki was. He looked at the whale shark again, then at Stephen, leaning over the plaque and reading it—mostly for Loki’s benefit, so the two of them could talk about it. That made Loki’s heart swell. His sadness would always be with him, but his happiness sat next to it, bright and blinding. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of the New York Sanctum, human sorcerer and ridiculously, heart-poundingly beautiful man, was responsible for much of it.

Loki is really, really in love. And he can finally be free about admitting it.

Turning around, Stephen met Loki’s eyes and said, “So, the Georgia Aquarium was a good choice?”

In preparation to write this fic, I googled what the world’s best aquariums were. I knew the Georgia Aquarium was a big deal (both from living in north Florida for a time and just...being a person who likes zoos and aquariums), but I wanted to see if there were others. Obviously, Stephen can go anywhere, so for their first date, he would take Loki to the best of the best. The Georgia Aquarium does consistently appear at the very top of aquarium lists (others were Monterey Bay and one in...Dubai, I think?).

I spent a lot of time on the Georgia Aquarium’s website. It’s a huge place and has lots of different aquariums, so I had to choose the one they would spend most of their time at. The website has webcams on a lot of the aquariums, so I actually watched them while I was writing.

[...] This place made one want to learn about Earth’s oceans, which might make them less prone to destroying them. Since he’d taken up permanent residence on Earth, Loki had learned to love it—and he’d grown increasingly aware that humanity was rather short-sighted about the planet they lived on.

Loki the environmentalist.

Then again, somehow he doubted that if Hela had been better educated about Asgard’s mollusk population, she would have decided not to take over and kill everyone.

This line always makes me laugh.

[...] “Good,” Stephen said. “I figured you’d like it. But, you know. First date and everything. I wanted to get it right.”

The squirming in Loki’s stomach turned to a full explosion of butterflies. First date. Could two people have a first date when they’d already exchanged avowals of love? Hadn’t that been the first date? Or perhaps their first date had been years ago, without either of them quite knowing it?

It’s always a balance for me to write these fics that take place in the ‘future,’ as compared to where I am in the chronological writing of this verse. I just finished fic #6 in my series, which takes place in 2027. This fic takes place in 2030. The avowals of love Loki refers to hear is from the end of the last fic in the series, ‘The General Mess and Imprecision of Feeling,’ and is when the two of the officially get together. They unknowingly going on their first date years ago is a reference to the fact that the two of them have been doing date-like activities with each other for years, just with neither of them admitting it. One of my other fics for Froststrange Week is actually one of these instances (‘far away from here and closer to somewhere else,’ where they run into each other in Hong Kong and get drunk together). In fic #8 (which I’m working on now), they end up spending the day together in London. In fic #9, they spend a lot of Thor and Jane’s wedding together.

He craned his head up to stare at the top of the glass tunnel, 

They’re in the Ocean Voyager aquarium.

suddenly not knowing what to say, feeling as though he might make a fool of himself. A sea turtle swam by slowly, the underside of its shell gleaming like the moon. The truth was that he’d probably made a fool of himself in front of Stephen so many times that it no longer even registered to him.

Or maybe… Loki looked over at him. Stephen was watching him, a look in his eyes that made warmth spread through Loki. Maybe Stephen didn’t actually find Loki foolish. Maybe he never had.

The idea of Loki being a sentimental fool is something that pops up pretty constantly in my fics. Here, Loki is thinking of times he’s actually looked stupid in front of Stephen, real and imagined. He has the wherewithal to recognize that maybe a lot of them are imagined, and that even the real humiliations don’t make Stephen view Loki as a fool.

“How did you know I would like this?” Loki asked.

[...] “Remember the time we went to the Museum of Natural History?”

“Yes.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “You really played tour guide quite often, didn’t you?”

Giving Loki an amused look, Stephen said, “It seemed like the decent thing to do. I had royalty living at my house.”

[...] “Silly me,” Loki said. “I thought it might be because you had a bit of a thing for me back then.” Stephen shot him a crooked smile. It wasn’t agreement. But it certainly wasn’t denial, either.

Stephen definitely did have a thing for Loki back then. Loki had a thing for him, too. By the time Loki leaves the Sanctum, they’re in love with each other, though neither of them has quite realized it yet. Stephen realizes much sooner then Loki (surprise).

[...] If Loki was being honest, he’d been mildly terrified that he would arrive at the Sanctum and Stephen would do something—look at him in some way, speak to him in a way that was just a bit false—that Loki would know that Stephen had thought about it and decided that they’d made a terrible mistake and he was looking for a way to extricate himself from their new…relationship. Romance. Whatever it was.

This is Loki’s constant fear. It takes him a long, long time to stop worrying about it. It’s his fear with everyone, though. Boil Loki down to his bare essentials, and you get a giant heart and massive abandonment issues.

Loki snorted with laughter and then grinned at Stephen. “Your expression, honestly, Strange. I’ve seen you face far greater foes with much less fear.”

[...] Shrugging, Stephen said, “Kids. Not really my thing.”

“It’s not as though you need to bring them home.”

[...] “I enjoy the chaos that children cause.”

“You might be the only person here who’s enjoying the decibel level of that pack of kids,” Stephen said.

Loki actually really likes kids! And Stephen doesn’t at all.

Loki flashed a grin at him, thought about making a joke about having children, and then dismissed it. It would be a joke, because the last thing Loki wanted right now, possibly ever, was a child that he could pass all his hang-ups to. His own upbringing had been…a challenge. He doubted his ability to overcome it.

My main interest in the two of them ever having a child lies in exploring Loki’s issues with his own father.

[Stephen reveals his big surprise...is that he booked an aquarium sleepover] It was more than Loki didn’t know what to think. What was an aquarium sleepover? Sleeping here? They allowed people to do that? Had this cost extra money? Stephen didn’t have any money, so why would he spend extra on something like this?

You really can do aquarium sleepovers at the Georgia Aquarium! It’s actually not that expensive, but Loki knows that Stephen’s only income is a stipend from Kamar-Taj. Stephen has nothing at all left over from his pre-wizard days and he depends entirely on that stipend.

[...] The two of them continued through the aquarium, visiting each gallery in turn. Even though Loki was quite sure Stephen’s interest in all of this was limited, he never gave any indication that he was bored. He seemed, actually, entirely taken by Loki’s enthusiasm, and that was a feeling that Loki had certainly never experienced. 

I really tapped into that brand-new relationship feeling for this fic, haha.

The number of healthy romantic relationships that Loki had experienced was…pretty close to zero, so there had never been someone who had been interested both in sleeping with him and in seeing him enjoying his interests.

It actually is zero. Loki has never had a healthy romantic relationship. He’s hedging here because the romantic encounters he’s had that approach healthy count to him as relationships.

They ate dinner at the aquarium café, which was serviceable but nothing special. At least, the food was nothing special. It was the first time Loki and Stephen had eaten dinner together as a couple. Gods. Loki felt like an adolescent. He was eating a veggie burger and Stephen was eating chicken tenders, with drinks they’d filled themselves out of a fountain machine, and somehow it was the most romantic dinner he’d ever had. Stephen’s knee pressed against Loki’s under the table and he leaned forward like he couldn’t stand that the table top had put a couple feet of space between them.

In other words, Loki could have been eating just the ketchup packets that had been provided to him on his tray, and he would have been happier than he’d ever been in his life.

This is one of my favorite parts of the whole fic. Anyone who’s ever been crazy about a new romantic partner has had this experience, I think.

[Stephen conjures butterflies for the kids they encountered earlier] Suddenly, thousands of blue butterflies burst from within the half-spheres, swirling in a bright blue stream across the ceiling and amongst the children, whose delighted shrieks made their teachers wilt. The butterflies flitted, azure and lapis, iridescent, bobbing on air currents, until they turned to wisps of light and disappeared.

I rarely make use of the whole butterfly thing with Stephen, primarily because I tend to associate it with another Stephen ship (which is one of my NOTPs), but...it’s nice, right? I wanted to use it. A butterfly also appears in Doctor Strange, so it’s imagery that seems to be sort of associated with him.

[left alone in the gallery for their sleepover...] Loki looked around. “Shouldn’t there be other people here?” he asked.

Stephen looked immensely satisfied with himself. “Nope. We get the whole gallery to ourselves.”

Furrowing his brow, Loki asked, “How? Did you buy all the tickets?” This seemed as though it would have been exorbitantly expensive.

Still looking enormously pleased, Stephen said, “I might have played the Sorcerer Supreme card.”

“No one knows what the Sorcerer Supreme does.”

“Okay, fine. I said I was an Avenger.”

My head canon is that Stephen is pretty disdainful of the Avengers. He definitely doesn’t want to be part of the ‘team.’ He’s a loner by nature. Definitely the guy who hated group projects, because he was the one that got stuck doing all the work. This loner quality is something that Loki and Stephen have in common.

[...] Loki buried his nose in Stephen’s hair and breathed in his scent, his shampoo that smelled like sandalwood, the cologne he had definitely put on today, cedar and faintly citrusy. Norns, he smelled good.

Loki first associates the smell of sandalwood with Stephen in Sleight of Hand (it’s right at the end of chapter 12). His cologne makes an appearance in my fic ‘Afterimage,’ which is the fifth fic in my series.

[...] Loki took the sleeping bags from Stephen and undid the ties on them, which were knotted far too tightly for Stephen to loosen.

Stephen actually being affected by his disability is always important for me to include.

[...] Loki laughed. Maybe none of the other Masters thought Stephen was funny, but Loki had always found his sense of humor addictive, sly and surprising, and perfectly suited to Loki’s own.

This is a callback to Stephen’s and Wong’s exchange in Doctor Strange:

“People used to think I was funny.” “Did they work for you?”

[...] There were other things in the bag—a change of clothes for tomorrow, toothbrushes, toothpaste, some over-the-counter medications. When Stephen went to the bathroom to change, Loki snooped more thoroughly. Razor blade, shaving cream, nail clippers, a little bottle of mouthwash, a bottle of cologne. Loki decided to pop the cap open and smell that, then tried to tell himself that the feeling that washed over him could be described in some other way than ‘a swoon.’ There was nothing in the bag that implied Stephen thought they’d be doing anything tonight but sleeping.

I really love this because it’s really not particularly above board for Loki to snoop through Stephen’s bag...but it is a very Loki thing to do. And pretty human. Especially because he’s looking for condoms and lube. Of course he is! They’re spending the night together...are they Spending The Night Together?

[...] Stephen looked at the foot of empty space separating the two sleeping bags, then glanced up at Loki. “Are you comfortable with…” he began, then trailed off, before trying again, “I mean, do you want to be…further away…?”

“Do you?” Loki asked. When Stephen hesitated, Loki took a guess about what the honest answer was, then reached out and tugged Stephen’s sleeping bag until it was right next to his.

Stephen is big on enthusiastic consent. Loki is far more willing to take his chances and guess based on body language.

Eventually, they drew apart, and Loki couldn’t help suspecting it had something to do with the way Stephen seemed to be keeping his hips pulled back just a little. Temptation. If Loki reached down…

But no. Instead, he very deliberately folded an arm under his head, resting his head on his bicep. Stephen did something that looked like it was probably a clothing or anatomy adjustment to accommodate a situation, but Loki didn’t comment. Quite honesty, he had his own situation down there, and it just felt like good manners not to say anything.

I honestly have no idea what guys would do in this situation. Just guessing based on both of their personalities. Is a first date too soon to admit, ‘Hey, you just gave me a boner?’ It feels like it is?

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two. They simply stared at each other. Then, Stephen said gently, “I know you’re worried.”

“Worried?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m worried about?”

Stephen’s gaze didn’t waver. “This.” When Loki pressed his lips together, Stephen added, “You think I’m going to change my mind. Right?”

No one has ever gotten Loki the way Stephen gets him. And Stephen is very patient, very gentle, and very like...you know when you pspspspsps and hold your hand out to a cat? That’s Stephen with Loki, haha.

[...] “The reasons are myriad, of course [for Loki’s insecurity]. I’ve made poor choices. But yes. In part, it’s because I’m…challenging. And people change their minds.”

Oh hey look, it’s the author projecting.

[...] But Loki was greedy. He didn’t want to say in a few months, or a few years, This was great while it lasted. 

There’s something kind of sad to me about the idea that Loki can’t even view his love for Stephen as an entirely good thing. He’s a sentimental fool, he’s overly romantic, he’s greedy. And if I wanted to go this route, I could easily make Loki very co-dependent in this relationship; it would be easy to turn it really unhealthy. But I don’t want to, haha. It makes sense that Loki would feel like he has to gorge himself on Stephen’s adoration of him, because he’s never really had this before, not from someone he wants to be with (other people have loved him, but he hasn’t loved them back).

He would already have to give it up too soon, because he would outlive Stephen by such a long time. And he already knew there would never be anyone else.

There isn’t. Stephen will die, and Loki won’t ever be with anyone else. Luckily for him, he gets Stephen back eventually.

Stephen leaned forward and kissed Loki softly; the most tender, most heartfelt kiss Loki had ever experienced. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips warm against Loki’s.

It was difficult not to deepen the kiss, difficult not to kiss Stephen harder. He’d never needed anything to be true as much as he needed this to be true, or at least it felt like it. Don’t worry. But Loki always worried. All the good things in his life still felt so fragile, as though they could implode at any moment.

Though—he supposed he was getting better at not actively sabotaging them himself.

This is part of Loki’s arc in my fic. Stephen and he aren’t together until Loki heals in a lot of other ways. One of them is not trying to blow things up so he can control their destruction.

Thank you so much for asking!! Sorry for the delay in responding.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

[golbrocklovely]

the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter fourteen

A/N: sorry this took a long time to make. work has been kicking my ass recently and i’ve had like no time off. i finally get one after today so that’ll be nice. i’ll try to write more when i can. thank you to everyone that was so sweet when i came back, yall are seriously the best. as a treat, a special something finally happens in this chapter. alrighty, enjoy and lmk what you think !!

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood ,  @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, angst, mentions of a massacre, surprise ending 👀

word count: 2385

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this is what you guys do when you have a day off? Lounge around and be lazy?” Tara huffed.

I glanced at all of us quickly. Sam and Kat were cuddled up on the end of the couch I was laying on. Jake was on the other, sprawled out, and Colby sat on top, his feet digging into the cushion where Jake laid his legs.

“What would you like us to do Tara?” Colby deadpanned.

“Well, I'm thirsty.” Tara turned to Jake, “Jakey, could you get me something from the fridge?”

“Get it yourself.” Jake mumbled, scrolling through his phone.

Tara barked. “Jake. Get me a blood bag and some vodka. I want to have a party.”

“You know if you're so thirsty, you could just drink from me.” Jake dared, getting up from the couch.

“No thanks. I'd rather drink from Sam than you. No offense, Kat.” Tara sassed, crossing her arms.

Kat shrugged. “None taken.”

“But Tara… that's not how it played out the last time.” Jake sang, smirking.

Tara punched Jake in the shoulder hard, all of us busting out laughing. Jake winced as he stumbled into the kitchen, digging in the fridge.

“Tara, you do realize it's only 3 in the afternoon. Ain't it a bit early to be drinking?” Colby stated.

“No. I'm just... pregaming.” Tara smiled innocently, sitting down where Jake had been.

Mike and Kevin busted through the door suddenly, slamming it shut and locking it hastily.

“Woah, where's the fire?” Sam broke in, sitting up with Kat in his arms.

“Go lock up the windows, Mike. I don't want there to be any way in.” Kevin motioned. Mike nodded his head, rushing to the windows.

“What's the problem?” Jake questioned.

“We just got word from a very reliable source that an elder is coming to LA.” Kevin informed.

“Are you sure it's not just Tara?” Sam asked.

Mike shook his head. “No one knows about her being an elder, so it can't be her.”

“How do you know your sources are telling the truth?” Sam slid out of Kat’s hold, standing up.

“Apparently, he already flew in a couple days ago. Some of our boys down at the airport saw him.” Kevin replied.

“Who?” Jake requested.

Kevin’s voice darkened. “It’s Rinaldi.”

I could feel everyone’s body stiffen at the name. Not a single breath was taken.

Tara’s eyes bore at the floor. “Well, I've just lost my appetite.”

“Wait, who's Rinaldi?” I puzzled, looking around at everyone.

Colby answered. “He's one of the most powerful elders. He was like the second or third vampire ever turned.”

Jake agreed. “He's fucking terrifying, bro. I heard if his eyes land on yours, he could make your head explode, spontaneous combustion style.”

“I'm surprised you know those words, Jake.” Tara joked, her voice remaining monotone.

“Okay, so he's a big deal. But why would he come here?” I doubted.

“Who knows? All I know is that him being even remotely near us isn't good news. So, we gotta take extra precaution. So Jade-” Sam began.

I held my hand up, finishing his sentence. “’Stay here for a while’…I might as well keep a bag here.”

“Or you could start paying rent.” Mike retorted calmly.

Colby scowled. “Me and Sam don't even pay rent.”

I rolled my eyes at Mike, turning back to everyone. “I know this might be a dumb question, but besides the fact that he is super strong, why is everyone scared of him?”

Mike sneered. “Tara. Do you have something to tell the class?”

“Fuck you, Mike.” Tara hissed.

“What is it, Tara? Do you know something?” I uttered, my voice weakening from my nerves.

Tara exhaled, her eyes on me. “Rinaldi is one of the worst vampires I know. He's the reason why the vampire population is so small.”

I furrowed my brow.  “How does that make sense?”

“Back in 1872, he told a bunch of us elders that we should make a council, something to police the growing vampire population. He believed that a lot of vampires at the time were starting to get restless and wanted to come out to the public. The world was changing so fast, so they thought most people might be okay with vampires,” Tara chuckled sarcastically, her tongue clicking against her teeth. “I was against the council, mostly because I don't like running in groups and I hate authority. But also because that's not how most vampires felt. A lot wanted to stay hidden. But he made it very apparent that wasn't the case. So, the council was created. And by the summer of that year, the massacre happened.”

“A massacre?” I whispered, surprised.

“Rinaldi was working both sides. For some reason while creating the council, he was telling all the younger vampires that we elders were coming to attack them, take away their rights and kill them. He came at them as an elder against the council, when he was the whole reason it was a thing in the first place. The spirits are the ones who told me all of this, and I had warned that council that a war was gonna begin. They all laughed me off and told me I was lying. When the battle took place, so many vampires died, both elders and young. Our population went from over a thousand down all the way to a hundred. And of course, Rinaldi survived.” Tara fumed, her hands clenching harder with each word.

I gulped. “Holy shit.”

“After the massacre, every vampire that was left disappeared, moved away from each other. That way no one could attack them or know who they were. It wasn't until a hundred years later that the vampires that were still alive decided to start turning humans again.” Tara finished, relaxing her back against the couch.

Kevin nodded, crossing his arms. “I remember. It was a long time before I ever saw a vampire. I didn't even meet Mike until, what? 1982?”

My eyes widen. “Wait, Kevin, you were alive during the vampire massacre?”

“I fought in it. Or, was forced to. I was turned a year before the massacre.” Kevin recalled.

“And you two?” I glanced at Kat and Mike.

“Not until after. 1974.” Mike responded.

Kat chimed. “1983.”

Sam commented. “I'm dating a cougar.”

“Shut up.” Kat smacked his leg, a smile rising to his face.

“So that's why Rinaldi is terrifying. If he's here for some reason, it's not good. We have to be safe and stay as far away from him as we can.” Tara cautioned.

~ \/ \/ ~

After the lovely news of Rinaldi, I decided to take a nap before work, especially since now I was staying over the Trapp Haus longer than expected. When I finally woke up, I could hear the thumping of the club downstairs, but the rest of the apartment was silent. I slowly stumbled out of Sam's room, opening the door to the empty living space. The lights were dim, no one around.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I called out.

The continuous music from downstairs was the only response. I stared over at Colby's door, wondering if he was inside. I trudged over to his door, taking a deep breath.

“Colby?” I muttered.

Silence. I knocked three times, the door creaking open with the force of my hand.

I've never been inside his room before...

I flicked on the light, looking around at the unusual space. His room was a little messy, but nothing too crazy. His bed sheets and curtains were a dark black, his walls a deep shade of blue. A couple water bottles rested on his nightstand. His laptop sat haphazardly on his floor near his bed. His closet door was ajarred, clothes spilling out onto the floor.

“What are you doing in my room?”

I gasped, turning around to see Colby. His body was slightly tense, his eyes matching.

“Shit, sorry. I-I woke up and thought maybe you were in your room since no one was around.” I stuttered.

“I was downstairs helping Kevin get rid of an overly excited patron.” He revealed.

“Where's everyone else?” I queried, my arms crossing uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Sam and Jake are doing some research for a hunt. Kevin and Mike are downstairs, and Kat and Tara are out partying at Bloody.” He explained.

I bit my lip. “And you're here.”

“Someone has to protect you.” He remarked dryly, walking into the kitchen.

“Sorry.” I murmured.

“About what?” Colby glowered, leaning against the counter.

My eyes fell from his for a moment. “I mean, it's obvious that you don't want to be here... with me.”

Colby’s eyes softened as he fell silent, his hands holding the counter tight.

I turned to go back to Sam's room, only to be stopped by Colby's voice.

“That's not true. I like... having you around.” He interjected, “You have to know that.”

I exhaled, turning to face him again. I could feel my heart bang in my chest.

“You know, the other day there was this guy at my work, and he looked really sad. He and I got to talking and he asked me if I ever wanted something badly. Not something crazy hard to get, but something that's just out of my reach.” I stepped towards Colby, “And all I could think about was... you.”

Colby objected. “You shouldn't.”

“What? I shouldn't what?” I echoed.

“Think of me like that.” He shook his head.

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because I'm a monster. Do you know how easy it would be for me to lose control and kill you?” Colby threatened, closing the gap between us and getting in my face.

“You haven't done it before.” I argued.

Colby backed away at my words. “Yeah, but there's no guarantee that it won't happen. Plus, besides the fact that I crave your blood all the fucking time, I'm... a lost cause, Jade.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I snapped, my hands resting on my hips.

“Whatever you think a relationship needs to have, you're not gonna get it from me. I'm damaged as hell. I trust little to no one. The kindness and love you deserve won't come from me. And you don't need something like that.” He scoffed.

“Then we take it slow, Colby. We don't have to fall headfirst into this. We can take our time. There is no time limit on this.” I ignored the aching memory in the back of my mind of Tara's reading.

“What makes you think I want to be with you anyway?” He jeered, his gaze pointing daggers at mine.

I growled. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?” Colby grunted.

“Try to be mean so you can push me away. I'm done walking on eggshells around you, Colby!” I exclaimed.

He groaned, racing to his room. “I-I can't do this right now.”

“I want you.”

He stopped abruptly, the muscles on his back tight.

“I want you, Colby. Even though you don't trust anyone, even though you could kill me. I still want you. I'm not gonna pretend I don't anymore.” I confessed.

He slowly spun around to look at me, his body rigid, eyes glaring.

“So, decide. Right now. Because I'm not gonna wait around forever.” I warned.

Colby bit his lips, staring at the ceiling. His hands twitched as he slid them across his face.

“I know you didn't lie that night we almost kissed. You're the one that said you wanted me close.” My voice fell to a whisper.

I could feel my face flush, my palms damp with moisture. I shuddered a breath as Colby looked into my eyes.

“You're right.”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a crooked smile.

“Fuck it.”

Colby raced up to me, smashing his lips onto mine as he thrusted me against his body. I immediately relaxed into him, my fingers finding their way into his hair to pull on his locks. I moaned against his lips as he picked me up easily, my legs wrapping around his waist. His hands gripped my thighs, bringing me over to the couch and placing us down. I straddled his lap, deepening the kiss as my tongue glided into his mouth.

He ripped his lips away, slamming them back down onto my neck. He kissed the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping the skin, causing me to whimper in pleasure.

Colby pulled away suddenly, his breath coming out ragged as his hands clenched my waist hard. My eyes landed on his face, and a small gasp left my mouth. His crimson eyes stared back at me, dark black veins pulsing from under his eyes, his fangs protruding from his gums.

He stammered. “I-I'm sorry, I-I need to-”

“It's okay, Colby.”

I gently raised my hand to his face, watching for any sign of disapproval. My middle finger lightly traced the veins under his eyes, feeling them throb under my touch. Colby closed his eyes tight, allowing me to keep touching. His breaths slowed down, the veins disappearing. When he opened his eyes with an inhale, his eyes had returned to their intoxicating blue.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I'm alright now.”

I leaned in and pecked his lips, breaking away only to see his reaction. He smiled lightly, his dimples surfacing sweetly.

My phone ringing broke me out of our trance. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and picked it up, noticing the time and who was calling.

I grumbled to Colby. “Shit, it's my boss.”

“Hey, sorry I'm-” I started.

Roger interrupted. “No need to come in now. One of our bathrooms overflowed and the whole place is flooded. It's gonna take a couple days to get fixed so, I'll see you next week at some point.”

“Oh, okay. See you then, Roger.” I hung up the phone, my eyes landing on Colby’s. “So, work’s cancelled for a while.”

“Well that's good.” He smirked.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Because then we can focus on more of this.”

Colby leaned in quickly, capturing my lips in a romantic kiss, instantly taking my breath away. I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms around him again.

But even with my attention on Colby, my mind drifted back to Tara's words.

Please let her be wrong…

<< CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 15 >>

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 10

An Asha’man contemplates personhood and Perrin finally has a meeting.

Chapter 10: After the Taint

Back to Perrin, who’s talking with Elyas and Grady and walking through camp and still not meeting Galad. His last chapter seemed like the last few moments before such a meeting, but I guess we’re drawing this out a bit more?

Ah, a fallen statue with a sword. Well, now I know generally where we are in the timeline, at least. That’s the statue Rand mentioned to Nynaeve (when he told her to dream on my behalf, Nynaeve; and yes, that still hurts).

Perrin’s second-guessing all his life choices—okay, in fairness, mostly just his recent strategic choices—and Elyas, voice of reason, is making the very good point that you can’t actually anticipate every eventuality. Or, as Lan might say, “You can never know everything, and part of what you know is always wrong. Perhaps even the most important part. A portion of wisdom lies in knowing that.”

Lan may not be there, but I’m glad Perrin has both Elyas and Tam with him. Both of them are good… not just grounding influences but I guess… steadying ones. They’re people who have gone through quite a lot of Life Experience, not all of it pleasant, and have emerged from it with a clear sense of who they are, and how they fit into the world around them. And Perrin needs people like that with him now; Rand needs people who help remind him he’s human, Mat needs his Greek chorus, and Perrin needs… people who have found that kind of balance within themselves, to show him it’s possible. Elyas, who has found his balance between man and wolf. Tam, the farmer and soldier, and neither of those lessening the other. In a way, I think they’re both not unlike the sort of person Perrin himself might be when he’s older.

I suppose what I’m getting at here is, it’s good for Perrin to have some role models.

Ugh, apparently the Two Rivers people are still judging Perrin for that time they think he slept with Berelain. Don’t slutshame the wolfboy, people; for all you know he has an open marriage!

…Okay anyone who’s met Faile could likely guess that’s not the case. But they should know better than to trust so much to rumour, especially when they know Perrin. Unfortunately, though, people are people. Also, you know, Wheel Of Absolutely No Communication and all that. Sigh.

Perrin wants to sneak into the Whitecloaks’ camp for a rescue mission, and Grady just wants to go Dumai’s Wells on their asses. Not…sure either of those is exactly a great solution here, boys. Have you considered talking? Oh, wait, no, forgot what series I’m reading.

He hated the idea of letting the Asha’man loose with impunity. The scent of burned flesh in the air, the earth ripped apart and broken. The scents of Dumai’s Wells. However, he couldn’t afford another distraction like Malden. If there were no other choice, he’d give the order.

And now he knows how Rand felt, when he did give that order.

Still, this could be taken as a small moment of growth for Perrin, to acknowledge—hating the idea but not letting it drag him fully into a crisis of self-hatred—that he could do this, will do this if he has to. That this is an option available to him, and that if it is necessary, he’ll do it. And being able to do that not in the moment (the way he sort of did with the Shaido prisoners, for example), and not in that desperate single-minded focus on finding Faile, but as a simple evaluation of the options available to him, in anticipation of what might be needed for this next task.

Still, for all their sakes, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

Not yet, though. There are no coincidences with ta’veren. The wolves, the Whitecloaks. Things he had been outrunning for some time were returning to hunt him.

Wow that sounds almost like self-awareness! And lack of denial! Again, to Perrin’s credit, he’s been alright at that for a little while now, but it’s still a big enough achievement that I’ll celebrate it whenever it happens with these boys.

But yes, Perrin. It’s the endgame of an epic fantasy series; there are no coincidences here.

The Whitecloaks had haunted him since his early days out of the Two Rivers. Dealing with them had never been simple.

It felt like the time had come. Time to make an end to his troubles with them, one way or another.

That, basically. Coming full circle and getting closure to an arc and all that fun stuff.

Which is another reason why this shouldn’t end in violence, perhaps. Because that’s what started all of this: Perrin fought the Whitecloaks, and killed two of them (and then several more, with Gaul, for old times’ sake), and had to Deal With That, both in his own mind acknowledging himself as a killer and with the consequences of it. And at every stage of this he’s been in conflict with the Whitecloaks. Fighting them directly, or at odds with them in the Two Rivers.

(They make such a good point of conflict for him too, especially when you set the Tuatha’an on the other side, because together they kind of represent an extreme version of some of the sides of Perrin’s own conflict within himself. The Tuatha’an as an extreme version of his wish for peace and his fear of the violence he carries within himself; the Whitecloaks as an extreme version of a determination to do the right thing.)

But now the Whitecloaks are being set up for a kind of redemption via Galad, and Perrin’s arc is drawing to a close for the endgame, and so it would fit both sides for this long-running conflict, which challenges the fundamentals of who they are, to come to a close not in violence but in alliance. To recognise in each other something to be admired rather than only something to be feared or hated. To see points of similarity rather than just irreconcilable difference. Because to do so would also, I think, mean accepting some of those things in themselves, so that they can all move forwards.

And on the subject of alliance where once was enmity, the Asha’man and Aes Sedai with Perrin have figured out linking. Well, Neald has, and Grady seems keen to get on board. Cooperation! Overcoming millennia-long barriers! Being stronger together!

“Light! It’s wonderful. We should have done this months ago.”

Or centuries, but it’s all relative, right?

I do love, though, that at almost every turn, once this kind of cooperation happens, it’s seen by those involved as something positive, treated with this kind of joyous amazement. Like Nynaeve’s first time as part of a circle, or this, or affirmations of friendship, or those moments when characters finally decide to be open or honest with one another. It’s almost always rewarded; it takes a hell of a lot of work and time and pain to get there, but once they do, it’s something good.

“I was wondering if I might…” [Grady] seemed hesitant. “Well, if I might have leave to slip over to the Black Tower for an afternoon, to see my family.”

Oh. Oh man. Okay I think I see where this is going. (The importance of having family, to keep him grounded, as Rand recognised so long ago when he first started gathering men who could channel, before he all but lost sight of his own anchors. And the taint is gone now so it’s safe, or at least safer…).

Also, please let Grady or someone go to the Black Tower because I need a Black Tower interlude. It has been far too long and there have been far too few in the first place. What is happening there. I need to know. Because of reasons.

Damn it Perrin let him go see his family! I mean okay fair, there’s a clear threat ahead and a possible threat behind so tactically yeah, not a great time. And he does agree to let Grady go at some point soon.

“You never worried about this before, Grady,” Perrin said. “Has something changed?”

“Everything,” Grady said softly. Perrin got a whiff of his scent. Hopeful. “It changed a few weeks back. But of course you don’t know. Nobody knows. Fager and I weren’t certain at first, and we weren’t sure if we should tell anyone for fear of sounding delusional.”

“Know what?”

“My Lord, the taint. It’s gone.”

And with it, the certain death sentence they’ve all been living under. It does change everything: once, they were weapons, because that was all they could hope to be in their brief time of power before madness. Once, all they could do in the end was die for this cause. Now, there’s a chance they can live for it. Can let themselves be more than weapons again, can hope for something more.

In its own way it’s yet another version of Rand’s realisation on Dragonmount, for all that this comes earlier chronologically (and for all that we’ve seen it happen already for some of the characters who were closer to the cleansing). This idea that there might be more to the future than death, more to give than a last stand and despair, more to be than a weapon.

The timing of this does seem kind of weird, given that the cleansing was several books ago now, and the explanation that they were waiting to be sure… eh, I suppose no one ever tells anyone anything in this series so it doesn’t strain suspension of disbelief too far. I suppose it just feels weird because everything about Perrin’s chapters up until now has felt like a building up of tension before his inevitable meeting with Galad, and this feels like a kind of random digression.

Not an unimportant one—this is lovely, and fits well in terms of where we are in the overall story in the sense of realisation of hope once thought lost—but just… somewhat oddly placed.

“Seems the sort of thing Rand might have been about,” Perrin said.

Which might just be the most chill reaction to hearing about the cleansing of saidin we’ve seen from anyone. Oh, a miracle? The removal of a three-thousand-year-old evil that has gradually destroyed so much of society and thrown the world out of balance? Yeah, that sounds like something Rand would do, cool, fair enough.

It probably helps that Perrin himself can’t channel, so all of this would feel a bit more… abstract, maybe? Which might make it easier to accept than it would be for someone to whom this is an integral part of their lives. Still, it makes me laugh.

“When I joined the Lord Dragon, I knew what would happen to me. A few more years and I’d be gone. Might as well spend them fighting. The Lord Dragon told me I was a soldier, and a soldier can’t leave his duty. So I haven’t asked to go back before now. You needed me.”

“That’s changed?”

“My Lord, the taint is gone. I’m not going to go mad. That means… well, I’ve always had a reason to fight. But now I’ve got a reason to live, too.”

This, exactly. The difference between having something to die for and having something to live for; dying for a cause and living for one. It’s adjacent to Rand’s own why do you fight question and realisation, but it’s also the realisation that there is something more than death ahead.

There’s a kind of honour, certainly, in knowing he’s going to die and deciding to at least make that death worth something—give that brief time before madness to some kind of cause, use this power that damns him to serve some goal. But now that’s not the only choice. Now he can decide to fight, still, but also to live, and to hope for something else; to be a soldier, yes, but not merely a weapon.

It’s one of those shifts in perspective that from one angle looks so slight but that actually means everything, that changes everything.

And again, while the specific timing in this chapter is a little weird, it otherwise is such a fitting realisation; sure, it’s technically before Dragonmount, but narratively it’s during this time when this kind of shifting perspective is spreading across the world from its epicentre: the mountain where hope first seemed to die and now at last has been restored. This realisation that there’s more than just a dark inevitability to the future; that instead there are choices and things to live for and possibilities and second chances.

(There’s one rather prominent character who still has yet to come to his own version of this realisation, but he’s riding towards it now, unless I am very much mistaken).

That was what Perrin had sensed in the Asha’man all along, the reason they held themselves apart, often seeming so sombre. Everyone else fought for life. The Asha’man… they’d fought to die.

That’s how Rand feels, Perrin thought.

Indeed. And almost surprisingly perceptive of Perrin; for a while in the middle he sort of… didn’t quite allow himself to see Rand’s despair and sadness. But he’s absolutely right, in this.

And he touches on another key part of this change, in that thought of the Asha’man holding themselves apart. Not quite letting themselves be part of the world in the same way as others, not allowing themselves connections and friendships and anchors; turning themselves to weapons (or, in Rand’s case, to steel, to cuendillar). Which then leads to a kind of apathy or despair, to no longer having anything to live for, because they allow themselves nothing, because they don’t allow themselves to be people. But now they can, and so Grady is reaching back out to those things that mattered, back when he was a person and not a weapon (like the veins of gold). Drawing on them once more to pull himself back, to let himself be himself again.

I suppose in a way this ties into where Perrin is in his own story as well, now that he has found Faile and come out of the other side of that single-minded despair in which nothing else mattered. Because he, too, is finding his footing again after that. Finding some kind of purpose. It’s not like-for-like, but it all ties together.

Grady laughed. It felt odd, but good, to hear that from the man.

Laughter and tears.

Oh, are we actually going to get the meeting with Galad now?

“There is a stranger riding along the road towards camp. He flies a flag of peace, but he wears the clothing of these Children of the Light.”

FINALLY.

Oh good Tam is here. Tam is a good person to have around when everything’s likely to go to shit.

Ah it’s Dain Bornhald rather than Galad. That’s… not exactly ideal. He and Perrin didn’t precisely part on the best of terms. Or meet on the best of terms. Or ever interact on anything but the worst of terms, really.

Anyway Bornhald opens by calling Perrin a criminal so we’re off to a great start.

“It is you. The Light has delivered you to us.”

“Unless it has also delivered you an army three or four times the size of the one you have now,” Perrin called, “then I doubt very much that it will matter.”

I’m always here for Perrin’s backtalk, of course, but I’m pretty sure an outright threat isn’t going to help this situation any. Then again, it was more or less a lost cause as soon as Bornhald showed up, given I don’t think anything but a severe concussion and possibly amnesia is going to change his opinion of Perrin, so.

Perrin’s attempting something vaguely resembling diplomacy, in that he’s basically saying ‘why don’t we just ignore each other until we’re out of sight’, but Bornhald’s not so keen on that option. Unsurprisingly.

“But I will leave that for the Lord Captain Commander to explain. He wishes to see you for himself.”

YES. FINALLY.

Though Perrin’s not so keen on walking into what could very likely be a trap, and Tam’s thinking much the same thing… but hey, he’s ta’veren; what could possibly go wrong? When has knowing they’re walking into a trap ever gone anything but perfectly well for any of these characters? (Don’t answer that).

“Burn me, Tam. I have to at least try before attacking them.”

That’s… a fair point, at least given Perrin’s own sense of honour and morality. It’s part of his ongoing conflict with the Whitecloaks as well, really: at none of their encounters has he actually wanted to kill them, or to attack first. He’s not out hunting them, and while he does sort of bear a grudge against them now, it wasn’t always that way. It’s just that there’s quite a lot of bad blood there, and even in the early days things went south quickly, and so it inevitably ended in bloodshed.

The six of them broke away from camp, and blessedly, Faile didn’t seem to have heard what was happening. Perrin would bring her if there was a longer parley or discussion, but he intended this trip to be quick, and he needed to be able to move without worrying about her.

Kind of a shame, given that she could be an asset in a discussion or negotiation. But at least he knows that well enough to be thinking of bringing her along if there’s going to be extended talking, I suppose. Would Galad know her? Maybe not on sight, but I’d imagine he might know her name, and certainly would know her father’s… that could help. Or not; who knows.

HI GALAD.

The tall man had fine features and short, dark hair. Most women would probably call him handsome. He smelled… better than the other Whitecloaks.

This description is just trying way too hard to emphasise the ‘no homo’ that it pretty much runs screaming in the other direction, and I’m laughing.

“Goldeneyes,” the man said. “So it is true.”

“You’re the Lord Captain Commander?” Perrin asked.

“I am.”

Oh, of course we’re doing this without Perrin ever getting his name. Of course. I can’t quite decide if that strains my suspension of disbelief or not, but either way: ARGH. Then again, Perrin’s never actually met Galad and doesn’t know that Maighdin is Morgase, and barely even knows Elayne, so knowing Galad’s identity might not actually help him all that much.

“What will it take for you to release the people of mine you’re holding?”

“My men tell me they tried such an exchange once,” the Whitecloak leader said. “And that you deceived them and betrayed them.”

Well, yes, they would say that. But Galad, you of all people should know that there are probably more sides to that particular story, especially given you’re not getting it from an unbiased source.

Galad keeps listing out Perrin’s alleged crimes, some of which could be argued to be true (killing Whitecloaks); some of which are bullshit (leading Trollocs to attack his own village), but none of which he has any actual evidence for, beyond the word of his own men. Their word against Perrin’s, and it seems like Galad should also know that just because he’s the Lord Captain Commander now, and trying to drag this organisation kicking and screaming into some kind of redemption, doesn’t mean everyone in it is suddenly noble and honourable and not lying outright to him.

Or even that they’re mistaken. That, as is so often the case, there’s just more to the story. That maybe the people whose information he’s relying on didn’t know everything that was actually happening. Which is closer to the truth, really; Bornhald genuinely believes Perrin is evil, and so everything else gets filtered through that lens of confirmation bias.

“I want a more formal parley, where we can sit down and discuss. Not something improvised like this.”

“I doubt that will be needed,” the Whitecloak leader said. “I am not here to bargain. I merely wanted to see you for myself. You wish your people freed? Meet my army on the field of battle. Do this, and I will release the captives, regardless of the outcome.”

I am a little surprised Galad outright refuses Perrin’s request to sit down and talk about this like adults. Because sure, he’s seen Perrin now, but what information does that tell him? It’s a perfectly reasonable request, and nothing Perrin’s said to him has been particularly unreasonable, and again, Galad should know better than to just take as absolute truth everything he’s been told.

Then again, Bornhald told him the truth about Valda and Morgase, so maybe that’s earned him Galad’s trust? Still, it seems odd that he wouldn’t give Perrin some kind of chance—a trial, or a conversation—to defend himself, before challenging him to a battle, where so many more people could die.

I just don’t get Galad sometimes, but what else is new.

“Your force will face ours under the Light,” the Whitecloak leader said. “Those are our terms.”

So you’re just going to sentence some of your own people to death in order to determine this, rather than… talk? Sure. Okay. Trial by combat by proxy; why the hell not.

I’m still guessing it’s not actually going to come to that, somehow, though I can’t quite see how. Unless Galad sees Morgase. That’s the only thing I can think of that could potentially stop this from turning into the mess it’s currently heading for.

He could take the Whitecloak leader captive right here, with barely a thought.

Perrin was tempted. But they had come under the Whitecloak’s oath of safety. He would not break the peace.

That’s some rather weird logic, if you’re intending to then meet him on the field of battle. Capture one person, and the cost is breaking an oath of peace. Keep that oath of peace, and the cost is, very probably, the lives of some of the people following you.

I mean okay, I get it, truce flags should be honoured because otherwise Bad Things Happen, but… eh. Like with a lot of the ‘rules’ of warfare, sometimes thinking about it too hard gets a bit weird.

***

Oh we get a Galad POV now, so maybe his thinking will make more sense. Though admittedly I don’t hold out a great deal of hope for that, because again, Galad’s thought process just baffles me sometimes.

Those golden eyes were unsettling. He had discounted Byar’s insistence that this man was not merely a Darkfriend, but Shadowspawn. However, looking into those eyes, Galad was no longer certain he could dismiss those claims.

Come on, Galad, did no one ever teach you not to judge people by their appearance?

Like, on the one hand… okay, people he trusts have told him some pretty terrible thing about this guy, and he does have (apparently) unsettling eyes, and he didn’t deny any of the accusations Galad listed out. And confirmation bias, again, is a strong thing. It does make sense that he would be wary of Perrin, and expect him to be an enemy, to potentially be evil, and to see that at least his physical description matches what he was told so maybe the rest does, too.

It’s just frustrating.

“They would not have harmed me,” Galad said.

So you’ll believe he’s a monster, but also that you were safe?

To be fair, his reasoning for why he was safe does make sense, more or less, given what he knows and (mostly) what he assumes.

“If he is as you and Child Byar say, then he worries greatly about his image. He didn’t lead Trollocs against the Two Rivers directly. He pretended to defend them.” Such a man would act with subtlety. Galad had been safe.

Well, it makes sense if you partially discard Occam’s Razor and also fail to account for the possibility that he’s not as Bornhald and Child Byar say. Then again, if that���s true, then Galad was also safe, because Perrin’s not a monster or a threat.

Alright, fine, Galad, I’ll give you that one.

Those eyes… they were almost a condemnation by themselves.

Seriously, people, what is it with determining a person’s morality by their eye colour? You live in a world with literal magic! Sometimes weird shit happens!

And Aybara had reacted to the mention of the murdered Whitecloaks, stiffening. Beyond that, there was the talk his people gave of him in alliance with the Seanchan and having with him men who could channel.

Again, I can just about see where Galad’s coming from, and how he’s putting the pieces together, but I wish he’d stop for just a moment to consider that maybe there’s more to the story. But then, he’s hardly the only person in this series to come to not-entirely-accurate conclusions based on flawed or incomplete information. They’re all just working with what they have, and sometimes what they have is wrong, but… well, if I gave Lan’s a portion of wisdom quote to Perrin earlier, I suppose it’s only fair I grant Galad the same courtesy now. He doesn’t have perfect evidence that what he’s been told is right, but it paints a compelling enough picture, and he doesn’t have much evidence to the contrary, either.

Better to defeat this Aybara now, than to wait and face him at the Last Battle. As quickly as that, he made his decision. The right decision. They would fight.

Morgase, get over here; we need you.  

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