#kind of talking into the void right now but if anybody aside from my one good friend bentley is reading this hi

[loachbro]

after some consideration (5 minutes) i think i may open little doodle requests for peoples wc ocs/canon characters.. i dont know if ill be drawing ship art (unless theyre ocs) btu i can drawwhatever canon characters uo want playing + having fun for the small price of your unconditional love and support no matter what for the rest of eternity

[itwoodbeprefect]

decided to just compile a bunch of comments about my sga 1x01 rising rewatch into a single post because i don’t actually want to make a hundred posts in a row, so here, under the cut, many rambles:

announcer guy does, in fact, speak english upon a second attempt. well done on not forgetting to not speak german, announcer guy.

“i’m afraid of the thing” elizabeth says, about the drone chair, while standing next to it and looking like she wants to fuck it

rodney in that orange sweater! very orange! very warm!

john is on screen. john’s first words are helicopters he knows how to fly. john KINDA LIKES IT in antarctica. john has barely done anything and i already feel like crying a little bit about this guy who LIKES ANTARCTICA because he just wants to fly

POOR CARSON when he almost kills two people. “ai told ya ai was the wrong pursohn” :(

i really love how john sees the drone coming at the (landed) helicopter and yells “get out!” and they throw open their doors and john JUMPS and then it’s just “ugh.” and he’s belly-down on the floor and still like, almost under the helicopter. an attempt was made, for sure. just not a very succesful one.

the way john looks around like he’s never seen a ceiling before when he enters the base is just. very funny. and then some guy in particular is looking at him because he’s a bit of a weirdo and john looks back and the guy sort of looks him up and down and john looks away as if to check if anybody saw that. hmm.

john’s face of “oops” after he sits down in the chair and it ACTIVATES and carson RUNS OFF to go get literally everyone and john is realizing he MAY have just made a very giant big mistake. PRICELESS

teyla: my people have long believed the wraith will come if we venture into the ancient city. sumner, when the wraith come after he ventures into the ancient city: [surprised pikachu face]

gotta love how john insisting on saving his people is what wakes up the wraith, and saving his people is also what landed john in antarctica in the first place because he tried it in afghanistan once before. which wouldn’t have happened if there hadn’t been an american war in afghanistan in the first place, which there wouldn’t have been if bush hadn’t thrown the us into it, which wouldn’t have happened without 9/11, so... bin laden woke the wraith?

on the other hand john would never have had to go on a rescue mission on his first day in pegasus if sumner hadn’t gone into that city against the wishes of the people that already lived there and had a history dating back thousands of years with the place, so more realistically, the expeditions’ colonizer mentality woke the wraith. and then they just kinda... kept going with that for the rest of the show, because it worked out so well on that first day.

anyway i’m not even there yet - puddlejumper! it jumps puddles!

have to love the moment john realizes the puddlejumper is pretty literally reading his mind and giving him anything he can think of that is within its power (so no turkey sandwiches, but that’s okay). john is already in love with it just based on the fact that IT CAN FLY AND GO FAST (“i kinda like it here”, restored) but then all the ancient technology just seems to know him and love him back and gives him way more than he even thinks to ask for. which, for john, who doesn’t really do well expressing desires? a FLYING SHIP that then READS HIS MIND? starstruck. love at first sight. john&puddlejumper, instant bffs. i bet it would have popped a compartment with some stray bits of wire if he’d asked for a friendship bracelet right then and there. ford sitting there witnessing this doesn’t even know how hard he’s thirdwheeling it in that moment.

now i am at the bit where sumner is taken from the wraith prison to see the actual wraith, and look, obviously they’re evil and feed on humans etc etc, but this particular wraith’s sense of dramatics? unparalleled. she has them bring her victims one by one to a large foggy room with a looong table set with a wonderful dinner and then she LEAVES a DEAD BODY sitting at the head of the table (implied to be the athosian that was taken before sumner?) and drops down from the ceiling while sumner has his back turned for no reason except the spectacle of it all, and dracula himself literally couldn’t have made a better display out of this. it’s maybe scary in the way that it makes clear she’s a cat toying with a helpless mouse before she eats it, but it’s also hilarious in the way that this is absolutely a very bored immortal being who had to stay up while the rest went to sleep and is inventing high school improv plays with her dinner for some diversion. don’t play with your food, wraith queen. you’re scaring your dinner.

life signs detector!!! ford didn’t get to name the puddlejumpers gateships, but that one stuck, no matter how much “we can name it later” john was trying to throw at it!!!

(god. there’s a ficlet somewhere in there about season 2 john having a moment where he realizes he’s on the hunt for ford using the thing they first discovered together and that ford gave its name.)

getting sidetracked here, but when john and ford find the group of humans caught by the wraith teyla goes “major!” and it makes me think that. well. how are the athosians supposed to know things like “major” and “colonel” are military ranks? what are the chances the pegasus galaxy uses the same designations? (don’t really know how the language thing works here - we’re hopefully not supposed to think they’re all speaking english, are they? i’ve never watched sg1, there’s probably lore about this, i assume. maybe alien titles somehow get perfect translations to earth ones and vice versa.) but i mean, teyla is too smart, she’d have it figured out already even if those words don’t exist in her galaxy, but some athosian somewhere is going to be very confused by this earth tendency to name way too many kids private and lieutenant, and then put all of them into the army. strange, to have your job decided for you at birth like that. earth people are weeeeird.

fjdkl john is like bye, gonna go find colonel sumner all on my own, run if you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, and ford’s like “you’re the only one who can fly these people out of here” and “i’m saying i should be the one to go, sir” and john, with his savior can’t-leave-anyone-behind-gotta-do-this-personally-or-i-will-literally-die-from-not-almost-dying complex DOES NOT LISTEN to ford’s EXTREMELY ACCURATE objection. which is his right, as ranking officer, but is also a perfect showcase of why john Should Not Ever be in charge of atlantis, and why sam saying he was totally on the shortlist when she takes over command in s4 is funny but frightening if you’re on atlantis and like being alive.

sumner: “we travel through the stargate as peaceful explorers.” FDJKFD. god, that line, from that character, hilarious.

rodney comes to elizabeth full of enthusiasm about all the interesting stuff they’re finding in the city only to find her staring at the empty gate and when she says she should never have let them (the rescue party) go, he sobers up and says awkwardly “for what it’s worth, you made the right decision” and that’s GOOD that’s KIND.

back on the planet with the wraith everyone is running to the jumper while there are wraith darts whizzing through the air and teyla turns back, catches up with ford who was told to cover their six, disarms him (because he was firing at illusions, revealing their position), hands him back his weapon, pulls him in the direction of the puddlejumper, and PUSHES HIM ASIDE when they’re almost scooped up by a wraith dart, and i’m so here for teyla being allowed a moment of heroics that saves specifically ford, guy with a gun, and not a random athosian damsel in distress. teyla is fully on their level. teyla is perhaps above their level. thank you.

that scene at the end of this episode!! in which there’s a sort of party on atlantis and it’s all buzzing and relaxed while the athosians are mingling freely with the expedition members and they’re talking of friendship and ugh. UGH. there’s a better version of sga in an alternate universe where the expedition didn’t decide atlantis was totally theirs, actually, and they cooperate with the people that were already in the galaxy when they came there and learn from sumner’s mistake to actually respect what they have to say and form a single front and teyla takes over as head of the expedition in s4 when there’s a void left by elizabeth’s absence.

final thought that has always haunted me a little: john suddenly becoming the ranking military member on atlantis after sumner’s death is ?? one of those things where i wonder what the sgc was thinking in their personnel assignments. john wasn’t even supposed to BE THERE. if john hadn’t gone and sumner had still died (which was something they should have considered as a possiblitiy! they didn’t know what they were walking into at all! sumner is apparently the type to lead his own missions!), then what exactly would they have done? i don’t know much about how the us military operates but i’ve watched enough mash to have figured out the order of the ranks and it just seems. very odd to me? to take one (1) colonel on this mission and then ZERO lieutenant colonels OR majors (if john hadn’t stumbled his way into it, that is). like, are there any captains on atlantis? (i think there are?) or would ford, a lieutenant, have ended up ranking military member? this is like the surely-they-only-need-a-single-medical-doctor-right thing. WHAT IS THE SGC THINKING.

anyway. this was good. i liked this. i hadn’t rewatched the pilot in a while, and i only just now figured out how much of a while, because there was a bunch in here i didn’t remember. ON TO EPISODE TWO.

[popatochisssp]

Heya Poppy! I’m loving the new gem headcanons and was wondering if you have a diamond au too? Or any other stuff about the new gems? I love this au so much

Ohoho, of course I do! I do have the new gems’ Backstories, but since you asked about the Diamond AU specifically... UwU

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

Cubic Zirconia (Undergloom Sans) emerges alone, in an abandoned Kindergarten galaxies upon galaxies away from Homeworld’s (known) reaches. He doesn’t stay alone for very long, and not too much later, Moissanite (Undergloom Papyrus) emerges too--another gem.

...Not that they...know too much beyond the fact that they’re both gems. They certainly have no idea that they’re both products of diamond replication experiments at this outpost, commissioned by the (recently ceased) Void Diamond and forgotten when The War began and other priorities became more important.

But! They have each other, so even if their origin is shrouded in mystery and there’s nobody else here on this dusty, deserted rock of a planet, they both decide things could be worse.

They go about their lives for awhile, poking around in things, bonding with each other, making guesses about their species and civilization from their bare-bones programming and the artifacts of the Kindergarten.

It passes the time.

And then, one day, the seismic activity starts.

The two of them have no idea what’s happening or what to do about it; if there’s anything to do about it, and it’s a stressful few cycles before they get any solid answers.

Raw Diamond (Horrorfell Sans), clawing himself up through the ground from the deepest, darkest caverns of the planet, is about as ‘solid’ as an answer gets.

Cubic and Moissanite shouldn’t know the newcomer at all, yet they find themselves automatically saluting, calling him ‘My Diamond,’ and Raw...

Raw is just as confused as they are.

He doesn’t know what’s going on either, where they are, what he is, who he is… he simply is.

He couldn’t know that he’s a forgotten project of Void Diamond’s, too, a new diamond meant to join the ranks with him and Brown and Gray as their empire expanded and needed more leadership. He was simply left in the ground to incubate without being refined or even cut.

(He's monstrous, huge even for a Diamond, and oddly formed with a crooked jaw that won’t open and a hole in his skull…but Cubic and Moissanite hardly know any better than he does what he’s supposed to look like, so no one makes any mention of it.)

Freshly emerged and very lost, it goes without saying that Raw wants answers. The Imitation brothers have a few, but nowhere near as many as he’s after, and he stubbornly demands to be shown around the Kindergarten and the outpost, to see it for himself.

And it all lights up for him in a way it never did for the two that came first, doors and sensors and screens coming to life, responding to the signature of a true diamond. There’s brand new access to everything, reports, records, files and procedures… they learn a lot about what they are, what they’re supposed to be and what they’re not.

They also learn how true diamonds are made, in full and not just halfway.

Raw is certain this is the answer. Cubic and Moissanite are the first of their kind, they barely have any programming, but a diamond…a diamond done right and not left unfinished like he was, surely they would know more and be able to make sense of…whatever it is they’re not getting.

The brothers aren’t totally convinced... but admittedly, they don’t have any better ideas and well…rough he may be, but Raw is a diamond…

Champagne Diamond (Horrorfell Papyrus) unfolds himself gracefully from a craggy cliffside on the abandoned planet, massive in size but otherwise perfect—and he does have some answers.

Champagne knows he is a Diamond and he knows of gemkind. He knows of their society and of their directive to expand their empire.

…What he doesn’t know is the answer to Cubic’s well-meaning query of ‘...what empire?’

Champagne has no clue where the hell all the other gems are, where this little rock is in relation to the Empire, if the Empire even still exists if this place has been abandoned as long as all the charts and data logs say it has been.

He wants answers as much as Raw does, possibly even moreso…but to even start looking for them, they have to get the hell off this planet.

As it turns out, what he lacks in inherent knowledge of their status and origin and social structures, Raw has a real knack for gem-tech, understanding the principles and functions of even the old and mostly broken down devices they have access to, enough to design a passable space-faring craft that they all pitch in to build.

The first world the quartet comes across is empty now, but was once uniquely occupied by both gems and by organics. There’s a handful of gem structures, Kindergartens, bases, et cetera--long abandoned and in disarray of course, but hiding lots of new data and potential clues to mine about what happened to gemkind, and more importantly, where the fuck Homeworld is...

(Like the lost city of Punt, it seems that nobody ever thought to store something as obvious as Homeworld’s coordinates anywhere in the days before warp pads--why bother? Everyone knew where it was.)

There’s a lot to repair and sift through, a whole planet’s worth of it, and there’s only four of them, so it’s probably going to take awhile…

So when Raw finds some old notes that this planet would be a good candidate to incubate a diamond if not for all the useful organic life on it, he nudges Champagne and jokes that all the organic life is gone now, maybe they should…?

To Raw’s surprise, however, Champagne is intrigued.

It could be something worth thinking about, actually… Another pair of hands, another set of eye-sockets… a diamond would be a costly investment, both time and resource-wise, but certainly more bang for the buck than a mess of soldiers or technicians that they really don’t need…

Plus, it’s something to do while they scour the whole damn globe for everything of use on it.

So... might as well try it.

A nice chunk of forest is summarily leveled by Cloudy Diamond (Horrorswapfell Sans) when he decides he’s good and ready to emerge—and while he’s certainly an extra pair of hands for the group, the eye-sockets…didn’t really work out the way they’d thought.

Cloudy, it turns out, is blind as a bat, a defective diamond—but still a diamond, able to interface with and access everything the other two diamonds can, if guided to it.

He sticks with Cubic and Moissanite, mostly, a quid pro quo sort of arrangement that works for everyone, at least until everything of use and worth is mined out of the artifacts of the planet, and it’s time to move on to the next lead: what seems to have been a military base on an almost entirely aquatic world.

Cloudy isn’t interested in visiting a water-world, not for a long-term stay like they’re talking about. He prefers solid ground beneath his feet at least most of the time...and he actually has very little investment in their Quest for Homeworld, so he decides that he’ll stay here.

The others question if he’s sure, and even offer to leave at least Moissanite with him to help him around, but he refuses. Aside from not feeling altogether right about splitting Moissanite and Cubic, Cloudy has his pride and he’ll manage just fine. He is a diamond, after all!

And so off the others go to the military installation.

Raw has a great time digging around in all the decaying ships and weaponry, Cubic and Moissanite explore the things left behind by the gems that were once upon a time stationed there, and Champagne researches.

Cloudy’s defect...weighs on him, though...

(Possibly because they kind of…created the poor guy, imperfect, and then left him there, which sucks… but Champagne is a diamond and doesn’t have half the emotional intelligence to realize the injustice of that is what’s bugging him.)

He somehow decides that it’s the defect itself that’s bothering him, that he failed to create a 100% functional diamond. But he didn’t fail, he could do it, if he tried again…which he’s not going to do, just to prove a point, to himself even and not anybody else!

………

That’s exactly what he does.

Pink Diamond (Horrorswap Sans) rises from the sea one day, kicking up a tsunami in his wake, much to the surprise of the others who were definitely not kept in the loop on this matter.

Champagne, for his part, is unapologetic and unashamed: Pink is a total success, strong and complete and perfectly formed (aside from, perhaps, the occasional, very minor glitching of his physical body... but that can surely be put down to all that water he was incubated beneath, smoothing his intended rose-cut over time into something more like a cabochon. That’s nothing to do with him...)

Pink, for his part, is happy to help and join the search for answers.

He dives right into it all without complaint…until…

Well...

Seeing Cubic and Moissanite, and Raw and Champagne…they get along so well, and his recent arrival hasn’t opened up any space for him in their dynamics.

He’s very pointedly the odd man out, and it’s enough to make a diamond quite lonely,  quite aware that he’s the only gem here without a brother to call his own.

………

Taking a page from Champagne’s book, telling absolutely no one, Pink sets out to squeeze one more diamond out of this big ball of water, even though the planet’s resources are low after his emergence.

It’s not long before Olive Diamond (Horrorswap Papyrus) is slogging out of a dark, wet swamp, assisted by his brother—which is appreciated, because he seems to have a hard time keeping his legs to retain the ‘hard’ part of ‘hard light projection.’ Sometimes they’re solid light and sometimes they’re only light and maybe that’s what happens when you try to make a gem from a planet that’s running on empty...

Pink is delighted by his new sibling all the same!

Even so, a rule is made amongst the gems after that and agreed to by all: nobody makes anymore gems without telling somebody, no more surprises!

………

In retrospect, they probably should’ve decided on that rule a lot sooner, maybe a planet ago.

By the time they all return to the ghost world with a stockpile of newer tech and ships, they find Cloudy in the middle of a fully-operational and tidied up base, with everything rigged to accept voice commands and read out text, and a brand new shadow hovering around him.

Pepper Diamond (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) emerged from the ruins of one of the abandoned cities, Cloudy explains, and has been very helpful in the others’ absence, wonderful company—he told them he’d manage fine. > 3c

Well.

After all of that, the military base had been their last, best clue to finding Homeworld, or at least the remains of it, if gemkind were truly gone…

After a bit of discussion among the group, they decide to take communicators and ships and anything else they wanted/needed and just…go their separate ways, to do their own things.

Cubic and Moissanite set up shop on the first world they can find with sentient organics that will accept them, wanting to be around other people and to live peacefully.

Raw and Champagne choose to stick to their mission, going on the wild goose chase that is the search for other gems somewhere in the universe, even without any solid leads—the gem empire was expansive, but not As Infinite As the Universe-expansive, so they haven’t had any luck yet.

Pink and Olive are curious about other gems, too, but make it their mission to hunt down all the deserted bases, Kindergartens, and outposts in their neck of the universe and fix them up, restoring everything to its former glory as best they can—whether those places are promising in terms of leads/clues or not. It’s their heritage and they want to explore it and restore it, if they’re able.

Cloudy and Pepper intend to stay put on their birth world…but when Cloudy’s done everything he can on their planet, he gets a little bored sifting through the ruins of this dead world and wants to go find somewhere with living organics to stay instead. Pepper (reluctantly) agrees and they stumble upon a fledgling, primitive society that seems to think of these giant, shining and glowing immortals as some sort of deities… Oops, it seems as if they’ve started a colony of sorts on accident!

They’ll all keep on keeping on, and if anything interesting happens or someone needs a hand, they can reach the others to get back in touch.

…

Unbeknownst to the Outer Galaxy diamonds or the Diamond Authority back on Homeworld, a strange pair of Chameleon Diamonds—one Reverse (Gastertale Sans) and one Classic (Gastertale Papyrus)—are spat out of a singularity, somewhere in a galaxy in between.

They’ve got a lot of knowledge between the two of them, in the skulls behind their briolette-cut gems, but not a single solid memory, and their only clue is a whole lot of wreckage of some strange machine scattered around them in space.

They don’t know what they are, where they came from, how they’re alive, or what all this junk is…but once they make their way to a planet with gravity and stuff they can fashion tools and parts out of, they do figure out that they can cobble together a ship out of all this...

What better use of a couple of brothers’ time than a bit of adventuring, leisurely exploring the universe and any interesting lifeforms or civilizations they find along the way, with little more than respect of the Prime Directive to argue about? ;3

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

I adore your fazbear fright house au and would love to hear of lefty fixes bonbon for funtime Freddy but of course take your time that's just my suggestion for the boredom thing

Funtime Freddy knew he had been outside all night, he was sitting with his back against the house, his eyes shifted focus from place to place, like this garden outside, obviously which was not to be disturbed by him, he didn’t know if Lefty was the one who planted things or if this was someone else's place to do things. He knew Millie wasn't the only one living here, he didn’t bother to remember everyone, he remembered that kid Alec because he had the audacity to drop a stack of plates on his head once, he also knew about Sarah because of Eleanor mentioning her in every sentence, like it was an obsession.

Funtime Freddy always thought she was slightly creepy.

He preferred Ballora honestly.

Actually, he hadn’t seen her in years.

He couldn’t hear anything inside the house despite he knew he was outside of the kitchen, he didn’t know what Lefty was doing inside that house generally, he had seen enough of Lefty to know coming in uninvited was a big mistake. He couldn’t tell if Lefty locked him outside, he was slightly wary if he tried to open the door, he'd be met with an angry black bear.

The only thing that bothered him was how lonely BonBon might be. He hadn’t seen BonBon in years and he just gave them to Lefty, with a possible loosely veiled promise of repair. He would have liked to keep him but he wouldn’t argue with Lefty.

Dark had turned to light, he watched the sunrise above, lighting everything, seeing everything in a new light, he could see a tree that was showing flowers, the flowers themselves were coloured bright red, this whole garden appeared well kept, he could see the grass on the ground was cut down to size.

The sun had brought everything into perspective, how much time passed, and where he was exactly in this world.

He had always thought of the sun as a clock, being able to tell roughly the correct time by looking at its position high in the sky, a skill he had with some pride.

He started to wonder how long it would take, and how long he'd be outside for, he wouldn’t leave without BonBon at this point, he felt like an unreachable goal was now within his grasp and he didn’t want it pulled away now.

But the anxiety was killing him in a way.

The door finally opened and Funtime Freddy hurriedly got to his feet and backed away, Lefty came outside, he looked at Funtime Freddy almost inquisitively, “I thought you would run away. You've been outside for over 12 hours.”

“Not without BonBon,” Funtime Freddy answered.

“Well you've been out here for hours, I didn’t even think you'd sit still.”

“I have some self-control.”

“Not a hell of a lot though Funtime,” Lefty sneered, closing the door and standing near the doorway, clearly so he could go back inside quickly just in case, Funtime Freddy always noticed people would like to stand near the door whenever they were around him as a means to get away quickly, which indicated just how well-liked he was.

“Have you looked at BonBon?” Funtime Freddy asked him.

“Not really, it's a normal day for me, I haven’t gotten a spare minute until now, I wanted to see what you were doing.”

“Nothing!”

Funtime Freddy to Lefty sounded like a whiny child, which he had heard plenty of those, Funtime Freddy's voice, in particular, was grating to his ears.

“I need parts.”

“What?”

“I need parts to fix BonBon,” Lefty further explained, “And tools, ideally I'd need new parts, I don’t even know if some of the parts I might need are still being made.”

“That doesn’t really matter.”

“Yes, yes it does. We aren’t from the same generation, your exoskeleton is made of coiled wires that bend and move like snakes under the skin, my body is an advanced exoskeleton that is tough to break, you have a chest cavity, I don’t.”

“Wait you don’t?” Funtime Freddy frowned, he assumed because Lefty was just as big as him that he had some sort of storage tank in his abdomen somewhere.

“No, I don't,” Lefty repeated.

“What have you got then?”

“A lot of complicated mechanisms, that all simultaneously work around the clock, Henry builds the most advanced machines, the only reason why I can’t ever get rid of you for good is that William made you have almost the same strength level as me. Henry made us with the intentions to act as security guards.”

“How do we know Henry didn’t copy anybody?” Funtime Freddy asked.

Lefty turned sour, “You're asking that despite what you are? We aren’t the same. You are a dressed-up cage for children basically,” He jabbed his finger at his chest.

Funtime Freddy looked at his finger poking at him, then he looked at the house and remembered something.

“Speaking of children....”

“At school,” Lefty answered immediately, “They're all out of the house, I told them about what happened.”

“Even... Millie?” Funtime Freddy asked, not knowing if this was a question he shouldn’t be asking.

“Yes, I don’t want her safety threatened by your presence, I have a set of rules regarding her and the other kids that I want you to obey.”

Funtime Freddy should have expected this.

“Don't talk about death, ever, I don’t care if it's hypothetical or you think it's funny, you're not funny, no one wants to hear that,” Lefty said.

“Okay.”

“Do not ever enter the house unless you are invited in, and I only want you downstairs, you can be in the garage, do not go upstairs ever, if I catch you up there, I will throw you downstairs.”

“What if I have to?”

Lefty frowned, “What? Why would you need to?”

“Say Eleanor shows up, for that other girl... um, Sarah right?” Funtime Freddy suggested.

Lefty was silent before responding: “Then come to my room, it's the first room, do not go into anyone else's room, especially Millie's, are you clear now?”

“Yep.”

“This should go without saying but I know because of how much a nuisance you can be if you even make a threat to anyone, this little deal we have, is null and void.”

“Understood!” Funtime Freddy gave him a thumbs up.

“If I can’t fix BonBon, then you need to accept it.”

Funtime Freddy's happy demeanour dropped, “What?? But-”

“You aren’t modern neither is BonBon, there is a chance BonBon will require parts that are now obsolete,” Lefty explained.

Funtime Freddy shook his head, “Then I'll look in the Scrap Yard, I've found all kinds of things there, I could find–”

“I understand you want BonBon fixed, but this isn’t a guarantee, and I'm holding you to our deal, I will be fair, I expect you to be also.”

Funtime Freddy gave a smile, he saw Lefty immediately narrowed his eyes at him, so he stopped smiling.

“You are covered in filth,” Lefty told him, “Would you protest to being cleaned up?”

Funtime Freddy shook his head, he knew he hadn’t been washed in years, he knew Lefty was probably getting cleaned regularly, as he didn’t even have so much as a bad smell on him and he appeared very well groomed from top to bottom, Funtime Freddy knew he was covered in dust, dirt and other stains like paint, grease, and oil.

Lefty turned and opened the door, he then stepped aside, “Come in, but when I say leave, go back outside, no complaining.”

Funtime Freddy didn’t push his luck with a snide remark, he sped walked inside, Lefty closed the door and Funtime Freddy looked around more in the kitchen.

His eyes briefly rested on the knife block, before realising that looked bad so he looked at the dining table instead, seeing a folded newspaper there, along with a black coffee mug, which he presumed was Lefty's.

Funtime Freddy then looked around, he expected to hear something else aside from his exoskeleton loudly creaking and shifting with the movements of his neck— he could honestly do with a slight maintenance check, but it wasn’t urgent.

“Are you the only one home?” Funtime Freddy knew he said the kids were out but he knew some adults were living here too.

“Matt's bedridden, he picked up some sort of virus, he's been throwing up everything he eats, Stanley had the day off and said he'd deal with him, and Delilah been spending time with this new man she met, means I can catch up on some chores, then have some tea.”

“The kids don’t do any chores?” Funtime Freddy questioned the situation.

“They do the simple stuff, like washing dishes, washing clothes, mopping the floor... I mean the more intense chores, like cleaning all the carpets which usually takes a few hours, cleaning the oven...” Lefty explained.

“What can I do?”

“Sit in the kitchen, be silent, I'll clean up stuff.”

“What about BonBon?”

“I'll get around to it later,” Lefty shrugged, “If I have time.”

“BonBon isn’t an it.”

“Whatever, the thing is valuable to you, not me.”

Funtime Freddy felt offended by that, and he countered, “It's the same as you and Millie! You look out for her!”

Lefty stared at him coldly before answering, “You do realise you just compared your relationship to what is your friend to that of me and the girl you traumatised? Do you not realise my point of view now? You are the monster that terrorises her, Millie is still a child, her parents are overseas, her grandfather is elderly and he can't protect her from you, she hides behind me because of fear, oh but you wouldn’t know what real fear feels like? Would you?”

Funtime Freddy went silent, he then walked over the dining table and sat down on one of the chairs, he felt completely uncomfortable.

[makorragal-312]

Void (Part Six)

We’re back, baby!

Allura sighed as she sat on her bed, exhausted from the events of the night. Lance had dropped her off at her room a few minutes ago, so she couldn't help but to lose herself within her thoughts. A small smile came to her face as she recounted the night she had with Lance's family. They were truly wonderful people and had effortlessly made her feel like she was apart of the family. She was reminded of her mother's kindness during her talks with Lance's mother. She was reminded of her father's quiet yet sensitive nature when she looked at Lance's father. She laughed when she conversed with Veronica, Marco and Rachel and immediately felt like a kid again when she watched Luis and Lisa watching over Nadia and Sylvio. To say that the kids were miniature versions of Lance was an understatement.

Speaking of Lance...

The Altean couldn't help but to think about the red paladin. She noticed the unusual shift in his behavior throughout the majority of the night. She noticed how confused and conflicted he looked at the dinner table while she wasn't looking. He seemed to have calmed down just a little while they walked in the park, though she could feel there was still some tension from his end. And it didn't help matters that way he acted when he dropped her off.

Lance, would you like to come inside?

U-uh, no thanks! I'd like to, but I gotta get me beauty rest, you know? We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, so kinda need the energy!

Alright. So I'll-

Yup! See you in the morning! Good night, princess!

The princess furrowed her brows at the memory. She couldn't forget how fidgety and anxious he was to get out of there, like he was stuck in a mine field and was in fear of being blown to bits She knew that Lance didn't hate her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he's starting to avoid her. Just as she thought that, she felt little feet climb up to her shoulder. Allura turned her head to find the mice, happy and eager to see her and squeaking in delight. She couldn't help but to smile.

"It's good to see you, too. Have you been behaving well?" she asked, grinning. Platt turned their head, looking at the door for a quick moment before turning their head back to Allura, asking about Lance's whereabouts.

"He left not too long ago. He came over just to drop me off." Chulatt quickly climbed atop of Platt's head, tilting their head in curiosity before squeaking.

"Oh, he's alright. And don't worry. he was the perfect gentleman." Allura responded with a chuckle. Soon enough, the mice lined up next to each other, heads on their paws and eyes wide in anticipation.

"You want to know how the date went, don't you?" Allura asked in exasperation, already knowing the answer. Sure enough, all four mice nodded their heads in excitement. The Altean let out a sigh before she began.

"Well, it was…nice. We had dinner at his house and I got to meet his family. They're very lovely people. So…close." Allura let out a sad smile, being reminded of her parents and Altea. She let a cough, trying not to dwell on the memory.

"Anyway, afterwards he took me to a nearby park. We talked for a bit and then he decided to take us back to get ready for tomorrow. That's pretty much everything." Allura finished. She watched as Chuchule climbed on top of Platt, puckering their lips and mimicking kiss sounds. Allura blushed in embarrassment.

"A-absolutely not!" she yelled. Allura quickly turned around, trying her best to hide her blush. She wasn't going to go ahead and feed into their teasing. She heard the mice squeak in glee, assuming that their princess was lying and did in fact kiss the red paladin. Frustrated, Allura turned her head back to them quickly.

"I'm telling you I didn't! Well, he didn't." Allura spoke softly. The mice stopped squeaking as they observed Allura, taking aback by her sudden somber expression. They all tilted their heads in confusion. The princess noticed the gestures and sighed before explaining.

"When we were talking, there was a moment where Lance was opening up. He said that he wanted to help me find a family. A home. Something inside me just told me that he meant it and he truly did care for me. He truly loved me. I tried to get closer to, you know. But he pulled away and kissed my hand instead. I guess I got the wrong idea." the Altean recounted.

Allura thought back to that moment in the park. Words couldn't describe how safe she felt in that moment with him. How her heart felt like it was going to beat itself right out of her chest. How grateful she was for him being there for her. So yeah, she really wanted to kiss her and given how he's felt for her all of this time, she just assumed that he wanted it, too. And he did, it just happened to be her hand and not her lips. She felt Plachu climb up her shoulder and nuzzle their head against her cheek in comfort, which Allura genuinely appreciated. For the third time that night, the princess sighed and plopped her chin into her hand as she slouched.

"I just wish I knew what happened. If I did something to make him change his mind, I at least want to apologize and make things right."

And that's when it hit her. She quickly sat up straight, face filled with anxiety and horror. The mice looked the same.

"Do you think it's because of Lotor?" she asked in fear. The mice looked at each other for a second before shrugging. That certainly doesn't help matters, she thought.

But the more she thought about it, she honestly wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. When Lotor came along, she had completely brushed Lance aside, aiming to focus on her alchemy and helping Lotor whatever the cause. And somewhere down the line, she started to fall for the prince, and he for her. And sure enough, she let him kiss her. She wanted to let him kiss her. And everything was great…until it wasn't. She was exposed to his true colors and his true motives and let him go. And it hurt, because she wanted to believe that he could never do such a thing. He would never go ahead and kill innocent Alteans. She let him onto her ship. She let him near her paladins. And what's worse, she let him near Lance. He warned her of his intentions, but she chose to stand by Lotor.

He thought he was going to betray them. She chose Lotor.

He thought he was after Voltron. She chose Lotor.

He was in love with her. She chose Lotor.

The guilt she felt was immeasurable. It was bad enough that Lance had to witness her getting close to Lotor. But she knew that if he ever found out about their kiss, it would destroy him. And the last thing Allura wanted to do was put him through any more pain.

"He can't know about this."

_______________________________________________________________________

"You know you don't have to stay here, right?"

"I know, but I'm doing it anyway. But don't worry I'll be on my way out soon enough." Keith walked towards Lance, whom was laying down on his bed. He was about to leave Lance's room a few minutes ago until the red paladin began suffering from a tear-induced migraine, so he decided to hang back and look after him until the migraine showed signs of passing. Hence why he was currently walking towards the blue-eyed man with an aspirin pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Ugh, who made post-cry migraines a thing?" Lance wailed, accepting the pill from Keith's hand. He sat up and popped it into his mouth before taking a huge gulp of the water.

"I don't think the person who was crying intended to get a migraine in the first place." Keith chuckled, walking to the kitchen counter and sitting on its corresponding stool. Lance swerved his head at him to give the half-Galran a scowl as the latter merely smirked. Lance let out a defeated sigh, knowing he wasn't going to win the argument and plopped back onto the bed. Eventually, the room went into silence.

"Hey, man. I'm sorry you had to see me like that." Lance said somberly.

'Lance, you don't need to apologize. You're going through conflicting emotions with Allura. Anybody would break down over that." Keith replied reassuringly. Lance kept his gaze to the ceiling. Even though he already somewhat broke down in front of him earlier, he refused to let him go back to that place again. He was also trying to get to sleep without his head feeling like it's been hit by a sledgehammer.

"Yeah, but-"

"Lance. You're human, You feel what you feel. Don't feel like you have to keep everything down while everyone else brings theirs up." Keith said firmly. He refused to have Lance feel ashamed for breaking down. He may not have been with the team all that time due to him being with the Blades, but he already felt that Lance was the one who was going through the most shit on the ship and would most likely keep it to himself as to not annoy anyone. And Keith would be damned if he had him act the same now that they're back home.

The red paladin was speechless. He didn't expect the leader of Voltron to say something so profound and comforting, especially to him. And in all honesty, he felt as though he had said the words that he had hoped someone had said to him back in the castle when the latter had left and he was left to his own emotional devices.

"I guess you're right." Lance sighed, signaling the return of the original silence that plagued the room. A good ten minutes drifted by before Keith spoke.

"Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to ask one question, and you totally have the right to not answer. Just wanted to let you know." Lance finally turned his head at Keith, intrigued and nervous at the statement. He gazed at Keith, whom was looking back at him, grasping his hands together firmly.

"What is it?" Keith took a breath before he dropped the bomb.

"What are you scared of?"

Lance's eyes widened in surprise. He had almost forgotten that him being scared caused him to not kiss Allura, but he had no idea that Keith was still dwelling on it. He knew it came from a place of genuine concern, which he was grateful for. But he really wished that he had left it alone so that he didn't have to go through those waves of thoughts and emotion again. The thoughts of not doing the one thing he's wanted to do for ages. The feeling of confusion and sheer relief when he didn't go through with kissing the princess. The guilt he felt in going for a kiss with someone when he already had someone else on his mind. And more importantly, the weird longing of the purple eyes that made his chest tight and his heart skip. The same eyes he was looking into now. Hesitatingly, he looked away from Keith as he connected his eyes with the ceiling once more.

"Everything."

[violetsystems]

#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual.  I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone.  Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody.  Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in.  The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera.  It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused.  That is when they bothered to show up.  One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions.  I’m beginning to sense a theme.  People saying they are there but not really.  Maybe the mic is muted.  Maybe you can’t see behind the screen.  All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely.  I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info.  I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account.  I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity.  It was good enough to enter China alone.  The first call that ID was sufficient.  They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided.  The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously.  I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough.  Neither was an expired driver’s license.  The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license.  I told the truth.  My ex girlfriend stole my car.  That didn’t really help the situation.  I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through.   I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week.  I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft.  The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning.  “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly.  I didn’t get mad.  I didn’t even complain.  I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up.  Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point.  Nobody seems to want to answer the video call.  The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?”  Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth.  The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative.  I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt.  But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on.  I’ve had years of failures to connect.  COVID has taught me a lot of things.  I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars.  This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before.  Sexual harassment in the workplace.  Check.  Organizational corruption.  Check.  The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened.  Check.  People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all.  Check.  Now that we’re aware.  What do we do?  How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space?  How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity?  How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about?  Why would I even bother?  

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure.  Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months.  But this is just the structural reality come to light.  Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people.  That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize.  I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me.  I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise.  I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to.  But I don’t really have an answer to anything.  I’m in the worst kind of limbo.  I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July.  Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months.  I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare.  The only times I look back is to clean up the mess.  And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy.  But the result is more of the same for me.  An extravagant “I told you so.”  I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things.  Some of them were kind of unbelievable.  Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in.  The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void.  But I can’t say the same for everybody else.  I work for myself for the time being.  It looks really nice on paper.  I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook.  But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it.  All the work we do to survive.  All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos.  All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission.  A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit.  The press follows this mentality pretty clearly.  Everybody has a hot take and a theory.   But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations.  Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience.  I guess I could be guilty of that too.  Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week.  For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention?  A lot.  I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments.  I take it all at base level as real as it gets.  You can’t build a future on speculation.  You can technically if you are in the stock market.  But risk is risk.  And money is money.  No one can be me at the end of the day.  Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself.  My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago.  The reasoning was simple.  The government did not believe I existed.  No bullshit.  A decade later nothing really has changed.  I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s.  I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.  

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face?  When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon.  I could keep telling you I told you so.  Or I could save my own ass.  And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1.  Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line.  The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth.  It hasn’t for years.  It’s built on this kind of thing.  It always has been.  And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse.  And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here.  How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore?  Not that anyone really asks me to participate.  They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages.  Is it suggestion or valid communication?  I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination.  An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight.  When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill.  Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.  None of this is good for me.  You could argue it made me the beast that I am.  But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive.  But I’m not like any normal person these days.  I refuse to admit it anymore.  They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  I have a problem.  One that it seems I cannot fix.  And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left?  Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear.  Probably pinging my old work number.  I can’t access my facebook.  Maybe that’s for the best.  I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID.  I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government.  And when does the constant gaslighting break down?  When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control.  That we are not all in this together.  Not by a longshot.  That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces.  We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive.  Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes.  Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor.  This is America.  This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light.  This shit was built this way.  And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit.  At least I can still access my Epic account.  What am I going to do for the next six months?  Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem?  I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example.  There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone.  I won’t be drunk on a zoom call.  I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something.  When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me.  Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore.  Nothing criminal.  Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually.  <3 Tim

[crowleyellestair]

Jaskier’s Study of Expression - Valentine’s Special

AN// Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s a special little thing I did for the occasion.

Slow burn, but fluff and fun.

Masterlist

WIP: Princess Bride AU – Jaskier x Reader

Geralt x Healer Reader Pt. 2

Part 4 of Jaskier x Reader – Adventures in the South

  No woman was ever supposed to be a Witcher. The Trail of Grasses were too vigorous even for trained male bodies. And that’s what she had led them to believe- that she was a young boy. Growing up, and before the trials, no one had questioned why Y/n would ever want to bathe separately or change alone. People had the ability to be introverted through and through. Who was everyone else to judge the boy? Witcher’s are orphans, found across the continent. Of course, some have spawned from the Law of Surprise, but they were Witchers all the same.

Y/n had been the only one in her batch to survive.

It was Vesemir who found out, going into the chamber and checking to see if she had successfully undergone the transformation. He wouldn’t have found out- not for another year at least when puberty struck, but somehow the light gleamed just right. Everyone would admit they had never seen her sleep, but seeing the usually tense and scowling face rest, people could immediately tell. It hadn’t mattered- women have been visitors at Kaer Morhen for seasons at a time, so this couldn’t be any different.

She was a Witcher, and she would be treated as such.

Their thought was correct in finding that nothing was different. Instead of a brother, they had a sister. A sister who was the best at concealing all emotion, though had the gentlest touch. A sister who would help with anything, no questions asked, get the job done perfectly, and still have time to relax over afternoon tea. A sister that had traveled at some point with each of her brothers, trying to set them all up with women from their adventures- though, all the boys would argue that it was for her own amusement, and less for their wellbeing.

Geralt was apart of the last generation; the final undertaking of creating a Witcher. Eskel and Geralt had been borne from the Grass together, sharing a tight bond. Y/n had only five years on Geralt, but she filled a void in him that he didn’t know he was missing. She took him under his wing, void of emotion, but still giving him all the love and support an older sister should.

Because of their bond, Geralt knew Y/n could feel. Ask any other man at Kaer Morhen and they’d tell you she was the reason they all still believed the Trail wiped emotion. Sure, Y/n could flinch, but never a brow. Never the corner of her lips. Lambert used to joke that she had lost the ability to smile from a loss of muscle integrity in her face. All of them had been sitting around the table when the statement was made, Y/n sitting at the end. All eyes had fell on her, and she responded in kind. She gently placed her fork beside her plate, let out a deep breath, and smiled. It was a kind, gentle smile- one you’d only find if you asked a pure hearted soul. They all laughed as it fell, and Lambert was put in his place. But Geralt knew, that despite her exterior, she felt. And she felt hard. Geralt was an anomaly, his emotions still very prevalent in his personality. He would be scolded time and time again by Vesemir growing up, but Y/n had pulled him aside one night, and told him he wasn’t alone.

So, when Y/n knocked on his door that night, he wasn’t completely surprised.

He had been settling down to meditate on the dingey inn floor, but her soft voice calling to let her in stopped him. When the door opened to reveal her to him, a blush was spread over the usual pale cheeks. He wordlessly stepped aside, and she immediately flung onto the bed as a child would. She paused, staring at the ceiling before covering her face in her hands, and expelling a groan.

“I don’t know what to do.” Geralt’s lip tipped up, sitting next to her on the cot. His tone came out playful, but he truly did want to know.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes.” Her answer was one concealed in another groan. He had noticed a while back that the bard had shifted his focus from him to his sister. Geralt and Y/n frequently traveled together, but it wasn’t until Jaskier caught up with him, did he realized the bard and the woman had never met. The two had ‘Geralt cycles’ opposite of the other. It was almost as if fate pushed them together to finally meet when they had.

And when they did, Y/n was floored.

That first night, rather than asking the bard personal questions, she waited till he fell asleep and berated Geralt for answers.

“What has our friend gotten himself into this time?” His amber eyes met her liquid gold ones when she dropped her hands. Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her. Though she was upside down to him from her laying position, he could still perfectly see the dramatization that has rubbed off from the bard onto her.

“My heart.” He let out an amused hum, his small smirk becoming a grin.

“Then why aren’t you out there?” She rolled her eyes and sat up.

“It’s not that simple, Geralt. When you’ve lived as long as I have-.”

“You’re five years older-.”

“I can’t just sit there like an obedient pup, taking compliments left and right. What am I supposed to do? I can’t dish them back either- I fear that would make them sound disingenuous.” She cast her gaze downwards, finding that her shoes seemed interesting.

There was a long pause, Y/n finally looking at Geralt again. He too had started to look at her shoes, but when he felt her eyes on him, the only reply he had a small shrug.

“Really?” He met her gaze, and gave an understanding look. He felt bad, as when he first fought with Yennifer, he asked for counseling from her. In fact, after every instance of meeting the sorceress, Geralt had asked for advice from Y/n. He did want to help, but all of the advice he had received from her was on how to deal with already being in love, not how to start a relationship.

“I would only be able to recite your own words on these matters.” Y/n’s shoulders slouched, and she lazily pulled herself from the cot.

“Okay.” She straightened and headed for the door. She stepped out, but popped her head back in to say, “If I die of embarrassment, don’t make a scene.”

 “What rhymes with amber?” Jaskier’s head lolled to the side, almost falling onto her shoulder. They had been somewhat huddled together to keep the bard warm. They had gotten caught in a chilly thunderstorm high in the Kestrel Mountains. They had a job to eradicate the enclave of Harpies that have made nests there. The trio were lucky enough to find a small cave right as the storm had started. Geralt had left the two towards the opening, scouting out some of the tunnels to find any danger.

It had only been a minute until Jaskier started to shiver. She would scold him on not dressing appropriately, but she couldn’t help but love his flashy outfits. Y/n had simply kept her mouth shut as she draped her heavy cape over him as he sat. When it happened, he refused it, saying she too could get cold. Y/n heavily protested, but gave up, settling under the cape next to him.

“Clamber. Geralt does a lot of that, so it would fit nicely, and be accurate.” Jaskier gave a little chuckle that she felt blow against her neck. Controlling her expressions was easier than breathing, but major alarms where going off. She couldn’t think straight be all the internal screaming occurring.

“Who said I was writing about that clot pole?” A laugh came tearing out of her throat that she tried to cover up with a cough. Jaskier simply looked down at his pad of paper and smiled. He knew her reputation for being as ruthless and unbreakable as the worst curses known to man. Jaskier thought he had a lot to do to rework Geralt’s reputation, but practically fainted at the sight of the workload following her.

But he was just as happy to help her. Eager, almost, as it meant he had to be near her to get all the details. While she showed no emotion, she was quite the talker. He appreciated that she would never let a question go unanswered. She would respond to all his quips, jests and remarks, no matter what mood he tried to perceive her to be in. And she did remain impartial to all political affairs, unlike her Witcher brethren, but that led for great discussion.

It was only recently however, that he realized there was only on thing she never responded to, complements. It seemed like her brain would shut down, and awkwardly segway to something else. Jaskier adored those moments, but he just added it to the list of things he already loved about her. She was the definition of perfect in his eyes. Strong, but gentle. Caring, but fierce. Impartial but passionate. Everything he thought the ideal being should be. The price to pay, it seemed, was her expressions. Now, Jaskier loved expressions. On anybody. It doesn’t matter who or why, but he loves to see the what people are feeling.

It was lucky for him that the only way he could see that on her was to flirt.

“I’m serious. Who said I was writing about him?” Y/n didn’t look in his direction, continuing to stare at the patterns on the cave wall.

“I apologize for assuming, then.” He shoved his shoulder against hers in a playful manner.

“Don’t worry about it. It has been the meanest thing you’ve done to me, but since it is the only thing, I’ll let it slide.” She gave a soft nod that Jaskier has come to know means a smile. Most would place a large or bashful grin, but she will give a slow nod in place of that. Curt nods are used for large smiles, usually used in the heat of the action or in place of a laugh. Downcast eyes meant for a frown. Side glances, that he has now become very fond of, signify her embarrassment. He loved seeing her look around for something- anything else to talk about. Her anger was harder to see, but she detested wearing gloves, but like Geralt wore. When she was angry, he could see the whites of her knuckles. Her skin had been so scarred and so taught that the force she needed to make the discoloration prevalent was immense. All of these things have been studied intently by him. He had given up charming others as he was usually too focused on her. He had to analyze all of her to try and break the enigma that was Y/n.

He was head over heels for her, and all of this was trying to calculate if she felt the same. So far, it seemed true.

“Tell me,” he started to inquire. She turned to meet his gaze, there faces centimeters apart. “What’s your favorite colour?” Y/n didn’t hesitate when she responded with,

“Pale blue.” She continued to stare at his irises, the object that convinced her a while ago that their colour outshone all others. When Jaskier blinked, she was brought out of her trance, and her head tilted away slightly, her gaze scanning the wall. The side glance didn’t go unnoticed, in fact flaming his need to continue.

“Hmmm. Could you give me an example? Is it like an afternoon sky or like the sea?”

“I uh-.” She coughed, fully looking away. “I don’t know, I guess. Just blue.” Jaskier had a plan, and since Geralt was gone for the moment, he decided it was a good a time as any.

“Um, Y/n?” He fiend a worried tone Her head whipped back with a stern look. Of course, her version of stern was a ghost of a squint. “Is something wrong?”

“Is there? I’m not aware of anything out of place.” He could feel her hand that rested against his leg shift towards her sword.

“Well, I can see a flush creeping up your neck…” Her squint dropped, and she straightened her posture. He watched as a flush did actually appear. His heart clenched as her cheeks became dusted with a light pink. The contrast of the colour against her skin was beautiful. The only thing, he thought, was a missing glow- all Gods glow.

“All Gods what?” It was Jaskier’s turn to flush as he spoke his thoughts openly on accident. Though, seizing the opportunity, he complied in telling the truth.

“I just thought that you needed a glow, as all Gods glow.” He watched as she side glanced again, but he saw a smile grace her face. He jumped up from under the cape to kneel in front of her. Her expression showed one of pure shock, and her back pushed itself as far as it could into the cave wall.

“Jaskier-.”

“Let me see it again- I couldn’t really see it at all.” It seemed to the bard that he had broken her. Her features morphed into one of great confusion. “That beautiful smile that you failed at hiding. Let me see it.” Her face read shock, and he leaned forward.

Again, his face was centimeters away. His hand rested on top of her bent knee, his body somewhat fitting in between her slightly parted legs. Y/n’s tongue darted out to swipe her bottom lip, and he made it obvious that he followed the movement. His eyes found hers boring into his.

“Tell me,” he started again. “Do you love me as I you?” A bewildered smile spread fast, falling slightly, then continued to spread. Jaskier’s chest felt like a fire was spreading just as fast. As if he had a forest just begging to be ignited. He returned the smile with one of his own. He knew he had his answer. Even if she didn’t verbally reply, he knew. He knew he was the only one, outside of perhaps Geralt, to make her smile.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, you really did get into my heart.”

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 20

Your name is MICAH, and ten nights have come and gone in what felt like a few hours.

It’s still early enough that even Lynera is still asleep in the next room over, which is really saying something because that girl is up at the asscrack of dusk no matter what night it is. You’re curled up on the sofa in the study, staring at a fungus-shaped nightlight that does a poor job of actually illuminating the surrounding area, and wondering what the hell you were going to tell your friends in the future.

Hey, guys! Sorry I kind of dropped off the grid for a while there. I fought this fucked-up version of one of my human friends, vanished into the literal void to take a nap because I was super tired from splitting a whole universe apart, and then traveled back to the past to help fight in a literal revolution… because I want to save my other friends, I guess? You don’t have to worry about that changing the future or whatever, I promise! I’m literally a god now, so I have total control over time and space.

Geez. You hope Vriska is ready to stop the others from kicking your ass.

Should you just go? You could easily spend the night on future Alternia and be back by breakfast. Teleporting still makes you a little nervous; the fear of messing up still lingers in the back of your head, but nothing bad has happened yet, so…

Yeah, you’re definitely not getting any more sleep. Might as well be productive.

You roll off the couch with a grunt, stagger a bit as all the blood rushes down to your legs, and then stumble over to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Maybe you were about to pull up to the future to get yelled at by a bunch of teenagers, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you have to look like crap.

The person looking back at you in the mirror startles you more than you’d like to admit. Their eyes are tired but wild, like a feral animal that’s been hunted to the point of exhaustion. Too-pale skin reflects the ceiling lights with an intensity that hurts your head if you look for too long. The dark shadows underneath both eyes are so dark they look like smudged mascara. You’ve always been very fair, even for a white kid, but you know that looking like this can’t be healthy.

Then there’s the fact that you’re still pretty underweight. You’ve been doing your best to eat on a somewhat regular basis, but you just don’t feel hungry anymore. It’s like your body already decided to give up.

And to be honest, the rest of you isn’t too far behind.

“Look at you. Sans Undertale looking-ass,” you tell the shadow in the mirror.

The shadow blinks in agreement at the same time you do.

You can’t look at yourself anymore. Moving as quickly as you can, you brush your teeth and do your best to assemble yourself into what could maybe pass for a functional human being and leave to go get dressed.

You’re rifling through your backpack for your water bottle when the lights come on in Lynera’s room. The bedroom door cracks open, and a messy head of pair pokes out, bits of sopor slime still clinging to black curls.

“Micah? What are you doing up so early?” she yawns.

“I, ah, I gotta go visit some friends a ways out of town. I’ll be back in a bit,” you promise. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t! A new cluster of eggs is due to hatch tonight and I want to be there!” she practically sings as she gets ready.

You feel the sadness leave your body as Lynera practically prances around as she gets ready for her shift. It’s not often she lets down her walls, but when she does, you can’t help but take a step back to enjoy the show.

“Give those babies some love for me,” you tell her as you hoist your backpack over your shoulders.

“I will!”

Alright. Here we go. You close your eyes and visualize Vriska’s living room. That’s a good place to start, right? You’ll have a quick talk with Vriska, you’ll go visit your other friends one at a time to explain what’s going on, and then you can talk to those who are interested about helping the rebellion from the future.

Time and space part easily as you zap out of Lynera’s study and--

“-- worry about OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You yelp in surprise as somebody shrieks at a deafening volume right next to your ear. Instincts take over, and you spring backward into something big and hard. That ‘something’ turns out to be a bookshelf, as you soon find out as a couple of novels fall from the top shelves and hit you right on the head.

“Ow! Shit!”

And that’s when you realize you have twelve young teenagers sitting around Vriska’s living room, all staring at you in various degrees of shock. Nepeta, Equius, Kanaya, and Sollux are all on the sofa, with Sollux perched on the backrest like he’s ready to take flight. Terezi and Vriska are standing on the coffee table together for some reason. Eridan’s curled up on the loveseat with one hand on his rifle. All of the others are sprawled out on the carpet.

All of the others except for Karkat, that is, who seems to have been returning from the kitchen with a pile of chips on his plate.

“Oh, hi!” Aradia says cheerfully. “Wow, I can see your bones--”

“THEY’RE BAAAAAAAACK!” Vriska hollers, launching herself off the coffee table and slamming into you at full speed.

The air is smooshed out of your lungs before you can brace yourself for impact. Thankfully, Vriska catches you before you can eat shit, otherwise you would have probably just teleported back to past Alternia and tried this whole thing again some other time.

“Hey, Vris,” you wheeze, patting her back. “Happy to see you too.”

“Fucking HELL, don’t do that,” Karkat yells, stomping over to the sofa and plopping down next to Kanaya. Kanaya purses her lips in mild amusement and delicately plucks a chip from his plate to eat.

Vriska just scoffs. “Don’t be a baby, Vantas, you know full well Micah can teleport--”

“Eat my full ass, Serket.”

“Hi, Micah!” Nepeta trills. A general murmur of greetings follows that, some more enthusiastic than others. Sollux, Equius, and Tavros all seem to be very on-edge tonight.

Feferi actually hops up to give you a hug as well, thankfully with a lot more care than Vriska had. It’s becoming weirdly normal to know that this big-ass six-sweep old girl could crush your skull like an eggshell.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s mad at you, I promise,” she whispers in your ear.

“Huh?”

Vriska grins and clasps your shoulder. “Oh, I already told them everything.”

“... Oh, boy.”

You turn back to the others and try your best winning smile.

“Yeah, what the fuck, dude?” Sollux demands.

“How are we even gonna exist with this kind of thing?” Karkat splutters, throwing his hands up in the air.

Tavros winces. “We get that you can do crazy space-time stuff, but--”

“You’re in way over your pan, retard!”

Ah, fuck. “Listen, guys, I know what I’m doing sounds pretty insane. And I’m sorry that I can’t tell you how exactly I’m going to pull all of this off because… you know, time shenanigans. But I need you guys to trust in me, at least for now. Also, Karkat, let’s not use that word. It’s extremely disrespectful.”

“Who are you, my lusus?” he challenges.

“No. Should I zap over and get him myself?”

“NO!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Vriska snickers under her breath. Karkat gives her a look that just screams murder.

Everybody else still looks a little queasy. Guilt rears its ugly head for the millionth time in the hour you’ve been awake, fearful and taunting and ashamed all at the same time. If you could just tell them everything, right now, you wouldn’t have to feel like this anymore.

Tell them.

You don’t, because you’re a coward, but you do try and calm everybody’s nerves again. “To elaborate on what Tavros just tried to say, yes, I can do crazy space-time stuff. Which means I can do stuff in one point in time and it won’t completely fuck up all the other points in time. It’ll change things, sure, but it won’t erase people.”

“What about our memories?” Eridan asks tersely.

“Definitely not,” you tell him. I won’t let that happen. “If everything goes according to plan, things will just start… changing.”

“We’re gonna make a new world that’s better for everybody!” Vriska announces proudly. “That’s why you guys are all here today.”

“By our human friend fighting in a rebellion that was already lost? Setting aside the fact that’s… treason… that also sounds rather dangerous. Micah, you aren’t a great fighter,” Equius says. His voice is quiet, but he’s so stiff you could probably use him to prop open a barn door.

“A rebellion is a lot more than just fighting, dude. So far I’ve just helped teleport people around,” you remind him.

“... Still.”

Nepeta suddenly surges to her feet, eyes blazing. “I don’t care that it’s treason! Don’t you care about what they did to me? My whole neighborhood got burned down in a drone strike!”

“Nepeta--”

“No! I remember everything now. I’m gonna help them win, ‘cause, ‘cause… even though we all had to suffer, the ones who come after us might not have to.”

Nobody speaks for many heartbeats after that. Something about what she said rings inside your head, sticking to your neurons like glue.

“See? Nepeta knows what’s good!” Terezi yells.

“This is insane.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome!”

“I’m in,” Aradia agrees, winking at you as she smooths her skirt down. Your anxiety backs down a little at her blatant support. Aradia Knows Things, right? Surely if she thinks you should keep doing what you’re doing…

“So am I,” Tavros announces, setting his jaw defiantly. Nepeta seems to have set off a chain reaction, because everybody else sits up a little straighter, eyeing each other as if daring anybody else to go first.

“And I,” Kanaya adds.

Karkat groans. “Fuck you guys. Fine! It’s not like we can play SGRUB anymore.”

“You guys are gonna die,” Sollux says, scrubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “We. Are. All. Gonna. Die.”

“So are you in?” you ask, reaching over to poke his arm.

He smacks your hand away. “Get fucked. Sure. Whatever.”

“Yay!”

Eridan huffs quietly and crosses his arms. “Well, you guys are gonna need somebody with power to help. And money. I’m in.”

Equius turns to stare at him with his jaw nearly on the floor, and you’re so full of pride you think you’re going to explode. You should have known your friends would eventually come around. And with not one, but two whole seadwellers on their side, they were truly going to be a force to be reckoned with.

“I knew it! I knew you cared!” Feferi squeals, jabbing a finger at her ex-moirail. Eridan curls up tighter on himself, but that doesn’t stop a small smile from lighting up his face.

“Is that a yes from you, Feferi?”

“It’s a hell yes, Micah!”

Gamzee smiles lazily from underneath the coffee table. “I told you motherfuckers. I told you a miracle was coming, and here it is.”

Poor Equius looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. “I-I… you can’t possibly, I mean--”

“If you’ll excuse us!” Nepeta chirps, effortlessly pulling her moirail from the couch and slinging him over her muscular shoulders. The indigoblood yelps indignantly, but Nepeta just prances on upstairs as if she’s carrying a sack of potatoes and not a teenage boy nearly twice her size.

“What’s up with olivebloods and being insanely buff? I mean, my girlfriend’s taken on a jadeblood and a teal at the same time and she won,” you wonder.

Karkat immediately focuses on you with the intensity of a laser. “A girlfriend? You’re in a relationship?”

“Micah’s got a girlfriend!” Feferi yells, picking you up and twirling you around.

“What quadrant?”

“Is she cute?”

“An oliveblood, right-?”

“We wanna meet her!”

“Guys! Can we please focus on taking down the Empire? We can gossip about Micah’s love life later!” Vriska yells, clapping her hands for order.  

You rest an elbow on Feferi’s shoulder, enjoying being tall for the moment as she’s carrying you. “Ooh! You got a mission plan, Vriska?”

“You bet your skinny alien ass I do!” She pauses for emphasis and puffs out her chest. “We’re gonna go beat up a bitch for using lowbloods as FLARP bait!”

“Didn’t you do the exact same thing not too long ago?” Karkat scoffs.

Vriska scowls down at him. “Yes! Yes, I did! But now I’m gonna turn things around and help them instead, okay? ‘Cause I’m changing my…. my toxic behavior.”

She looks to you for support, and you give her the thumbs-up.

The others actually look a little impressed, which gives her the courage to keep going. “In half an hour Terezi and I are going to meet this violetblood dude who’s been responsible for a lot of rust and bronze deaths in the area. It’s a FLARP session at sea, so he’ll have his team-- I mean hostages-- on board with him.”

“You need a team?” you ask.

“You offering?”

“Of course.”

“Yes! But no passing out on me! Our goal is to neutralize the threat, secure the hostages, and deliver them back to shore so they can go home. Any questions?”

“I’m coming too,” Eridan says. He hops to his feet, dusting off some invisible debris on his pants. “That’s not a question, though.”

“Can I come? It sounds exciting,” Aradia begs.

“Sure! Anybody else?” Vriska scans the crowd with a smirk, as if saying You are all too pussy for this kind of adventure.

Unfortunately, it works. Karkat and Feferi step forward as well, which brings the team total up to six. Everybody else gets ready to go home before the sun comes up. Out on the horizon, heat lightning crackles in the sky like a strobe ball. You end up leaving your jacket with your backpack on the couch, because even for somebody who has trouble retaining heat, Alternian summers are brutal.

Surprisingly, the team figures out their FLARP-ing shit quickly enough, as they all played at one point or the other. You still have no idea what to make out of all the numbers and stats and scores that come with each move, even though Vriska makes it all look like child’s play. Karkat keeps grumbling about “games for girls” which has your hackles up until you remember that female trolls tend to be more violent than the males. That makes sense to you, especially when you remember Remele beating the shit out of that purpleblood and all of Lynera’s knives.

In almost no time at all the six of you are sailing out to sea, the wind in your hair and the smell of salt water filling your nose. If you close your eyes and pretended, you could almost imagine you’re back on Earth, taking a boat ride with your mom’s boyfriend and your stepsister at the lakehouse--

A particularly large wave knocks you back on your ass, and the memory cuts off as quickly as it began.

“Fuck!” you hiss, trying to get your bearings. You try as hard as you can to visualize what you just remembered, but all you can recall is sunlight sparkling off water, the rumble of an engine, a man laughing and nearly choking on his beer as your tiny preteen self got knocked around by the rocking of the motorboat.

A strong hand picks you up by the arm and sets you on your feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Fef.” You pat her elbow. “Sometimes it’s rough being a little guy.”

Her eyes are round with sympathy. “Looks like it. That reminds me, I wanna ask your opinion on something really important.”

“Oh, okay!” Wow, the Heiress of Alternia is asking my opinion on something? Talk about friends in high places.

… Wait, what was I trying to remember?

“What do you think of the hemospectrum?”

You purse your lips. “Well, if that ain’t a loaded question I dunno what is.”

“I mean, you don’t have to answer, but…”

“You know what I think? I think that the hemospectrum could have been a really good thing. Those who live for quite some time, paving the way for those who won’t be here as long? Sounds great. But then it became about power and control. And-And I think that if-- that once we win, we can’t go back to that system. There’s just too much trauma that’s been birthed from it that’s affected literally every troll to have ever existed,” you explain.

Feferi considers that, and then she nods in agreement. “That makes sense.”

“Oh, shit, is it big brain hour?” Terezi calls from the wheel.

“It is!” Then you do a double-take. “Why is the blind girl driving?”

“Vriska’s getting dressed.”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Forward.”

“Bruh.”

Karkat throws up for the fifth time over the side of the ship. You groan and stumble over to him to pat his back.

“You’ll get your sea legs soon,” you promise.

“I hate the ocean. Why does there need to be oceans. I never would have thought I would ever say this but by infant Troll Jegus do I miss Texas. It’s hot, it’s human-racist, but there is hardly any damn water and for that it’s easily one of the best places I’ve ever been,” he rasps.

You smile. “Wanna see Dave after this is over?”

“Yes, please. Strider’s bullshit is the only thing that can numb me to the pain of occupying the realm of mortals.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eridan smirk. You turn to look at him in confusion, and he makes the quadrant symbol for flushcrush: two thumbs pressed together over the center of his chest, where a troll’s heart would be.

Really? you mouth at him, delighted by this unexpected turn of events. He nods eagerly, clearly just as enthusiastic about Karkat getting a boyfriend as you are, but before you can sneak off with him to get the tea his gaze fixates on something past you.

You turn to see the small speck of what is undoubtedly another ship coming your way. A ship that is much bigger and fancier than the 8rigantine, at full sail and most likely armed to the teeth.

“He’s coming on our eleven!” Feferi calls up to Terezi.

“Go get Vriska,” the tealblood orders. Her perfectly white fangs flash in the light of the moons as she grins like a shark. “Time to kick this bitchboy’s ass!”

[roseyserpents]

Someone You Loved

Summary: You were the love of Billy's life. Even when tragic events happened in both of your lives, you're always there for each other. But eventually one of you become the tragic event.

Warnings: cussing, angst, car crash, death

Word count: 3,986

A/N: This is written to the song Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. I've been working on this for a while and I hope you like it!

I'm going under, and this time, I fear there's no one to save me

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

For the past week you'd been stuck in your own head. You'd been trying to figure something out but no matter how many times you started over and over again, you couldn't find the answer. The two weeks before you'd been talking to Billy Hargrove, the new kid and new king of Hawkins High School after dethroning Steve Harrington, and despite what the other girls said you'd seen a softer side of him. You only saw a little bit, but it was enough for you to want to see that side of him, the side of him that didn't start random fights and hookup with every girl. But, after you tried to get him to open the door to that version of him, he slammed the door in your face and stopped talking to you. You wanted to forget it all and just move on like every other girl after they got their short time with him, but you couldn't, and the fact you were stuck in place in the situation was driving you absolutely crazy.

I need somebody to heal, somebody to know

Somebody to have, somebody to hold

Billy staggers out of his house, rage boiling in his veins as he sees red and wipes blood off his lip. His back ached and screamed for his attention as bruises formed from him being slammed into the wall repeatedly. His head throbbed with a headache and a few cuts on his face, bruises in the shapes of fingerprints on his arms. All he could smell was the alcohol suffocating his father's breath, even with him and the aroma out of sight.

He climbs into his car, slamming down the gas pedal and speeding down the road with no particular destination, just needing to get as far away as he could from his house. He had nobody to turn to in his darkest times. Nobody dared get close enough to understand him or get to know him, nobody knew this side of him. Everyone who did was gone, either left him behind or back in California. He yearned for somebody just to help him or sit with him or tell him it was okay or just let him rant until he passed out, but there was nobody. Nobody was there for him when he needed them, he didn't know anybody like that. There were plenty of people waiting to know him for a few minutes, but no one to stay, nobody to be a permanent and constant in his life.

He didn't realize where he was going until he was stopped outside your house, the only light on being the one to your bedroom. He tossed the idea over and over again in his head before reluctantly climbing out of his car and making his way to the softly illuminated window.

You really didn't expect a knock on your window at one in the morning, the not so subtle knock nearly making you jump off your bed. Another knock comes and you grab a piece of wood that had fallen off of your bed frame from under your bed, slowly approaching the window. Your hand shakes as you pull back the curtains, letting out a small yelp when you see Billy's face peering inside. Hurriedly you open your window, confused as to why he was at your house and why he looked like he got hit by a truck.

"Billy? What the fuck?" You whisper yell as he closes the window, running a hand through his unruly curls.

"I know I kind of blew you off all week but I didn't have anywhere else to go." He says quietly, barely meeting your eyes.

"What... What happened?" You could hardly get your words out, utter surprise stopping every word from passing your lips. Your mind raced with every thought you'd had the week before and some more, going from asking yourself why in the hell he was here and why he looked guilty, to what to say and do and everything in between.

Billy stays quiet, the only sounds in the room being both of your breathing. You tried to meet his eyes to see the emotions hidden in the ocean blue, but he refused, sticking to the floor instead.

"Billy?" You say softly, trying to get an answer from him.

"Look, I just... Not now, okay?" You see his hand clench into a fist and his jaw tighten and decide to leave it at that, not wanting to push him anymore and make something bad happen.

It's easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

"I'll be right back." You say before quietly stepping out into the hall, digging through your bathroom cabinets before finding the first aid kit in the very back. You go back to your room, finding Billy sitting on your bed, staring out the window. You cross your room and sit down next to him, placing the first aid kit at your feet. He still looks forward, not removing his eyes from the sky freckled with stars. You examined his side profile, a saddened expression on his face with his lips slightly drawn into a frown. Your eyes wander to his arm where you see small oval shaped bruises making almost a ring around his bicep. Slowly you reach a finger up and graze it over the mark, Billy flinching away and you retracting your hand.

"Who did this?" You ask, looking up at him again.

He looks at his arm before looking at you, letting out a heavy sigh. "Me and my dad don't get along too well."

You gently place your hand on his shoulder, giving a pitiful look before picking the first aid kit up off of the floor and flipping it open. You take a bottle of water off of your nightstand and pour it onto a gauze, holding Billy's chin in your other hand and cleaning off the scattered cuts on his face. His eyes examine your expression as you focus on cleaning him up. A few minutes later you closed the kit and set it aside, returning at Billy's side.

For once all of the pain and anger seemed to disappear and become an almost unrecognizable ache. You numbed all of the negative feelings, his body and mind relaxed just with your presence. He didn't exactly know why you had this effect on him, but he knew he didn't want it to go away.

"Do you need to stay here tonight?" You ask after a long period of silence, snapping Billy out of his daze.

"Yeah, as long as it's okay with you."

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips. "The bathroom is the first door on the left if you need it."

Billy stands and leaves the room, you lying down in your bed after throwing your hair into a ponytail. You turn off your lamp, turning onto your side just as the door cracks open again and Billy slips inside. The hallway light disappears as he closes it again, making his way across the room. The bed dips with his weight as he lays down behind you, a small blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Y/n?" He says quietly after he settles, the room silent except for the barely audible sound of crickets outside.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

That's how it was for the next two months. Billy's dad would give him a hard time and he'd escape to your house and spend the night. Sometimes he was calm enough to talk to you about it and other times he didn't talk and just sat with all his muscles tense and anger in his eyes. Either way you cleaned him up the best you could and gave him a safe place to stay. You learned more about him and saw the soft side of him, and while it wasn't the prettiest you were still there for him.

I'm going under and this time I feel there's no one to turn to

You were working on your homework in your bedroom when flashing lights caught your attention from in front of your house. You close your book and step towards the window, your face falling when you see three police cars, a few of the officers talking to your parents. Fear of the situation consumes you as you run out of your room and fly down the stairs, making your way out the front door and standing next to your parents. You could hear your mom crying now and see quiet tears rolling down your father's face.

"Mom? Dad? What happened?" You ask, both of them turning to face you. Your mom starts crying harder and your dad looks down, more confusion displayed on your face.

"There was a fatal head on collision between two cars." One of the police officers, Chief Hopper, answer. "Your brother was in the passenger side of one of them and unfortunately he didn't make it."

Everything freezes around you, a ringing noise replacing everything else in your ears. The news seemed impossible. When your brother told you he was going out with his friends, you thought you were going to see him the next morning. They'd just learned to drive, but they all seemed trustworthy.

Hopper was trying to explain more things to your now family of three but you ran back to your room, curling up in your bed and sobbing into your pillow. All you could think about was how unfair the whole situation was and how you would never see him again, hear him or talk to him. Your house would be empty of his laugh, void of his presence. You would trade all of your memories with him just for him to be in the room just next to yours again but no matter how many times you tried to it didn't happen. You were drowning in your sorrow and overwhelming feelings, your head sinking below the waves and nobody was coming to save you.

The next day you didn't go to school, and you didn't the day after either. You got a few calls from Nancy and Jonathan but you just let it ring each time as you layed on your bed and stared at the ceiling with endless tears slipping down your face. You only left your room to use the restroom, in the span of two days only eating a peach and two slices of toast. You felt like you had no motivation for anything, not wanting to move on in a world where your brother didn't exist.

The day dragged on into night, the clock on your wall telling you it was eleven pm. You hadn't moved from your bed, lying on your side numb and void of feeling. You hear a knock on your window but don't move, a few more knocks coming before the person opens the window. They climb inside, momentarily letting the noise of the late summer night into your bedroom before it's closed again. You feel the end of your bed dip with the weight of your visitor, more tears dropping down your face and into the wet spot on your bedsheet. A hand lies on your back, their thumb gently rubbing circles into your skin. A small sob comes from the back of your throat and you close your eyes, tears somehow making their way through the cracks.

Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

"Do you... Want to talk about it?" Billy asks quietly. You shake your head and swallow a cry, feeling a pull at your heart at the suggestion of bringing his passing to reality. You sit up and turn to look at him, both of your faces barely illuminated by the small lamp on your bedside table. You see a multitude of expressions on his face, including concern but unlike the other people you'd seen there was no trace of pity. He wanted to be there for you instead of just shooting you a pitiful look and moving on.

You move closer to him and wrap your arms around his torso with your head against his chest, letting your tears fall instead of holding them in. Billy freezes a moment, emotions not being his strong suit by a long shot. Slowly his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him, one of his hands running up and down your back.

"I'm sorry." You whisper after your tears slowed to a stop, pulling away and drawing your arms to your side.

"Don't be. You were there for me, so now I'll be here for you." Billy says asuringly.

So that's how your relationship progressed with Billy. Both of you were pretty broken people, but your broken pieces seemed to fit in perfectly with each other's. Everything was said to be platonic, but you knew that you were slipping down the steep slope that is falling for Billy Hargrove and you were starting to gain momentum.

Billy came in your window as usual, kicking off his shoes and plopping down next to you on your bed.

"You're still studying for the test?" He asks, looking to you with your nose in a text book.

"I want to get a good grade." You say, closing the hardcover. "You should study with me."

"Or," Billy counters, propping himself up on his arms, "We could go to a party."

"Billy, no." You immediately reject, repulsed by the idea of going.

"I am not going to take no for an answer." He says, standing up. You shake your head with a sigh as he grins down at you.

"If I get killed I'm blaming it on you." You grin, walking towards your closet to find better party clothes.

-

"Gather round we're playing seven minutes in heaven!" Carol announces. You recognize other people in the large circle, including Steve, Nancy, Tommy, and some others. You stood next to Nancy, across the haphazard circle from Billy.

Carol spins the bottle, two of your classmates running off to the coat closet down the hall. exactly seven minutes later they're back, a few more people going and more and more people coming back with lipstick stains and forming hickeys.

"I think it's Y/n's turn." Carol grins, placing down the empty beer bottle sideways on the coffee table. Your mouth twitches in disapproval but you don't say anything, watching the opaque green glass slow to a stop in front of a denim clad mullet of curls. He smirks at you and you quirk a brow before standing and walking towards the closet, whistles and yells following you. Almost as soon as you step inside the small room, hands are placed on your hips accompanied by the sound of the door closing. Your back was pressed against the wall, your breathing inclined as your eyes adjust to the dark, revealing Billy's face two inches away from yours.

"Are you sure about this?" Billy whispers, scanning your eyes for your emotions.

"Of course." You reply, breath laced with alcohol. "It's just a game, isn't it?" An unreadable emotion flashes on his face but it's quickly replaced with a smirk before his lips attach to yours in a hungry kiss. He abruptly pulls away, though, rubbing a hand over his face before stepping away.

"I can't." He sighs, leaning against the wall opposite to you. You give him a confused look, wondering why the boy who was usually all over any girl he could get was suddenly rejecting you. You chew on your lip before walking out of the door, smiling to everyone with Billy following shortly after you.

"I'm gonna head home." He says before worming through the crowd of teenagers and towards the door, leaving you confused and without a ride home from the party.

Two days later you lied in your bed, around three am giving up on the chance of Billy coming. Just as you'd shut your eyes and gotten comfortable, there was a gentle knock on your window. After opening it you sit back down on the side of your bed, Billy kicking off his shoes and closing the window before taking his usual seat next to you.

It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

"You know how I always say I like girls." He starts, you nodding and giving him a tired and confused look. "And while that's far from being wrong, when I say I like you it's different. I don't really know why and I've never felt this way before. Maybe it's because you just magically take away everything that my dad causes, you just kinda numb all of my pain. That's why I couldn't kiss you at the party. I didn't want you to be just another hookup for me, because you mean more."

"Billy are you sa-"

"I'm saying, that I'd love it if you'd consider going out with me." He says, a small smile trying to hide a layer of nervousness as he waits for your response. You don't say anything verbally, instead you throw your arms around him with a smile, sending him down into your mattress with you lying on top of him. You look from his glowing blue eyes to his lips before placing your own on them in a sweet and delicate kiss.

"So is that a yes?" He asks, you rolling your eyes and trying to get up but Billy's arms hold you firm against him. He rolls onto his side so your face is buried in his chest, a warm feeling of comfort spreading through you.

From that moment on, Billy made sure everyone in Hawkins knew you were his and nobody else's. Every time you two were around each other he was touching you in some way, whether it be holding your pinkie with his or holding you flush against him with both of his arms around you. Whenever anyone attempted to ask you out or touch you, they were quick to get a black eye from Billy. He was extremely protective of you, throwing fits if you got hurt in even the smallest of ways.

You and Billy sat on your couch, your head in his lap and his hands running through your hair, a movie playing in front of the two of you that you were hardly paying attention to.

"I love you." You say suddenly, causing Billy to freeze his actions.

"Really?" He asks after a few moments of silence, disbelief in his voice.

"Really." You smile, turning onto your back so you can look up at him. One of the most genuine and pure smiles you've ever seen spreads across his lips, you being quick in copying it.

"Say it again." He mumbles, leaning over you, with his hands holding your face.

"I love you." You smile.

"I," Billy pecks your lips, "love," another short kiss, "you." The last kiss lingers, both of you being forced apart when your grins become too wide.

But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Everything was going perfect between you and Billy for about nine months, but nothing could ever stay perfect for either of you.

It was only supposed to be a quick drive up to the Quarry to have a midnight picnic at the cliff when a truck t-boned Billy's precious car driving right into the passenger side. He seemed to watch in slow motion as you were thrown violently to the side only to be stopped by your seatbelt and being jostled side to side while glass and metal slammed into both of you. The car ends up slidding into a metal pole on the driver's side, the final sound of crunching metal and cracking glass ringing out before there's nothing but silence. Billy painfully turns his head to the side, wanting to scream out when he sees your body crushed between the middle council, your door, and your seat. Jagged pieces of metal stook out in places, some starting to be coated in blood. Your blood. Your face was entirely still as the impact had knocked you out cold, hair sticky with maroon sap sticking to your cheeks and forehead. Billy attempts to move but is forced to remain still as everything in him is lit on fire at the smallest movements. He feels utterly useless just sitting there as you were basically dying before his eyes. The love of his life was slowly loosing the life inside of them and there was nothing he could do.

Sirens ring in the distance and pull up to the devastating scene less than a minute later, emergency responders working on trying to remove the two teens from the totalled car. They eventually get Billy out and load him onto a gurney, a few moments later removing you, looking so small and fragile. You lie limp in the arms of multiple people, panic gripping their faces as they lie you down on the pavement, yelling for someone to bring them something. Someone brings a defibrillator, an electric sound running through the air before they shock your chest, your body giving a violent shake. Nothing can describe the devastation Billy felt as he watches the workers try time and time again to bring you back. Eventually they yell something, rushing you onto a gurney like Billy's and wheeling you away to a different ambulance than his. He tries to protest but blackness quickly takes over his vision.

-

"Hey Billy."

Billy groans as he squints open his eyes, seeing the fiery red hair before seeing Max's grieving but relieved face. Sudden panic grips his heart as he remembers the previous events up until watching you being rushed away from him.

"Y/n." He mumbles in a weak and hoarse voice. "Where's Y/n?"

Max is quiet and looks down, a sniff emitting from her as she looks up again with tears brimming in her eyes. "They, um, they brought her here after the revived her b-but the crash was just too much for her." She hiccups, wiping at her face with her sleeve.

Billy goes silent. This had to be a dream, some kind of fucked up joke his mind was playing on him. There was no way you'd died. It wasn't possible for you to no longer be alive and breathing and laughing and smiling. You're supposed to be with him right now back at your house after taking a relaxing picnic at the Quarry. Soon he was going to wake up with your head on his chest and your body gently rising and falling with each breath that kept you alive because you are alive.

Even though visitors came and went Billy didn't talk to anyone, each day bleeding slowly into night just as you had slowly bled out next to him in his car. He was utterly broken, his heart chipping away and the pieces crumpling at his feet, but you weren't there to pick them up and gently put them back together. You weren't there to get him through this because you were the one putting him through this. The only thing he thought about was how it should've been him sitting there instead of you, or how he could've prevented everything and the girl he loved would be still with him. He was finally getting used to someone accepting him and loving him but now it was all gone, and now you were just a memory of someone he loved.

[themonkeycabal]

Slightly random but Hodgepodge request: the end of chapter 4 of Its Alright We'll Be Up All Night from the lady who was being followed's perspective. Just a wee snippet of how that wee interaction went down perhaps? Please.

Well, since you said please:

***

Izzy Taveres just wanted to get home. She was having one of those days — her shift at the restaurant ran over with a huge family party that ended in a brawl and a police raid. The train was late, she missed her bus, and now she had to walk because she couldn't justify paying for a cab for five blocks. All of which meant she was going to be even later, and the babysitter was going to charge her extra. And it just … ugh. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, her uniform smelled like sour wine and marinara sauce, and now she was going to have to take down the laundry before she could go to sleep and she really hoped she could find a few quarters in the couch cushions or the junk drawer. God, what a day.

Sighing softly, she trudged down the sidewalk. It was late enough that the streets were relatively quiet. A handful of cars, not many pedestrians. Which is why her heart jumped when she heard the footsteps start up behind her. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath, and then shook her head. She was being silly. The street was well lit, there may not have been much traffic, but there was *some*, and the neighborhood was a long way from desolate. Still, she pulled her bag a little closer to her body, and slipped a hand into the outer pocket where she had that can of gel pepper spray her sister gave her.

Her steps picked up, and so did her heart rate, as she crossed the eerie black void of a mid-block alley. The footsteps behind picked up with hers and her mouth went dry.

Izzy most definitely did not need this. She really, really did not need this. She could not afford this, absolutely not. She had just enough to get her and Mia through to the end of the next week, and then she'd get paid. If she lost tonight's tips, it would be so much harder. She'd probably have to ask her sister for another loan.

The footsteps got closer. Oh God, she hoped her tips was all they wanted. She had an eight-year old daughter, and while being a single mom was hard, going home to her kid made everything worth it. That's all she wanted, to go home to her daughter. Oh Lord, help her. Please help her.

She thought she felt fingers brush her back and a sharp tang of adrenaline and terror filled her mouth. Pulling out her pepper spray, she hunched her shoulders, and tried to be brave as she turned around to face her attacker. Except, she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut, which probably wouldn't help. However, before she got all the way around, she heard a weird yelp and a thud, and that presence behind her wasn't there anymore.

Prying open one eye, still hesitant, still afraid, she peeked towards the alley as a man in a black leather jacket stepped out dusting off his hands on his jeans. Another, much larger, man turned towards her and held out his hands, trying to show he was harmless. Except he really was huge and she almost straight up hit him with the pepper spray on instinct.

"Our pardon, miss; we didn't mean to alarm you," he said in a deep, accented voice.

Two more men followed behind the first pair, and Izzy backed away and clung, with a shaky hand, more tightly to her pepper spray. Despite the big guy's attempt to appear not threatening, it was late, dark, and she was out-numbered and terrified.

"Hi, I'm Steve," greeted one of the approaching men. The guy next to Steve turned off and murmured something to the man in the jacket and they both stepped into the alley.

"And I'm Thor," greeted the large man.

Wait …

"Thor?" Izzy repeated, feeling dazed from the still swirling churn of fear.

"Yes," the man grinned a broad smile that flashed in the dim light.

"And … Steve? You're not Steve Rogers, are you?" That could not be right. Not even a little bit. But the big guy was both really big and he had long hair and she'd seen plenty of pictures of Thor. And maybe Steve Rogers looked like, you know, Steve Rogers, but it was still kind of dark by the alley and hard to see clearly. Also her eyes were still kind of squinted. The city could really put a freaking light near the alley. Who designed this lighting? That was terrible and dangerous. She was sending somebody a scathing email when she got home; which, thank God, it looked like she actually would.

"I am," he said gently. Then he waved a hand at the other two who had reappeared form the alley. "And this is—"

"Clint," said the guy in the jacket. Then he thumped the back of his hand on the last man's shoulder and said, "Vasily."

"Stop calling me that," the last guy growled. He looked over at Izzy and hesitated a moment before he muttered, "James."

"Okay," Izzy said. She had no idea who Clint and James were supposed to be, but Captain America and Thor were enough to assure her that she was probably safe.

The fear and adrenaline started to drain, leaving her feeling shaky and a giving her a strange, hollow queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

She would NOT throw up in front of Captain America. She wouldn't do it. Mia would never, ever let her live that down. Actually, she wouldn't be telling Mia about 90% of this story, but her daughter would love to hear that Izzy met the Avengers. Or, two of them at least. Or maybe four? One of them could be the guy with the arrows, maybe the blond in the black jacket? Nobody ever got a good look at Hawkeye without his bow, so who could say? And the other guy, long, dark hair to below his chin, didn't look like Tony Stark for sure, and it's not like Tony Stark would introduce himself as James. So … Hulk? What did Hulk look like when he wasn't green? Did anybody know? Except Hulk didn't have long hair. Except, Hulk was also ginormous and green. And if he could turn big and green, maybe his hair changed length, too?

"Ma'am?"

Oh, Steve Rogers was talking to her while she was stuck in her weird post-terror Avengers spiral. "What? Sorry, I was … just trying to get my head together."

"We were wondering if you'd mind if we walked you home?"

"Uh," she hesitated. Yes, she would like four Avengers to walk her home. Duh. But, also, she was a confident woman with a can of pepper spray who wasn't afraid of the streets (except when she was, because somebody had to put a light on that alley and she would make sure it was done if she had to personally shout at every member of the neighborhood council). "It's not far. You don't have to. I appreciate you … uh, doing whatever it was you did? Was there a mugger? Because I thought— well, I thought I heard somebody but then it was just you? But …"

James and Clint cast quick looks into the alley and shrugged. Steve didn't turn around but his smile looked a little tight. Thor just grinned some more. There was totally a mugger. Though, the mugger was probably currently unconscious or tied up or something. Maybe both. Served him right.

"It's no bother," Thor said. "We were on our way home, as well. We can walk together, as friends."

"It's really fine. I'm fine. Thank you. Besides, don't you live in Manhattan?" Yes, yes, please good-looking Avengers, walk her home. Also, stop trying to tell them not to, mouth. God.

"Our friend," Thor gestured to James, "is opening a tavern in the area. We were walking back from … dinner?" He glanced at Steve, who nodded back. "Yes, dinner. We had hotdogs. And ice cream."

"But not together," Clint offered.

Thor nodded. "Because that would be disgusting."

"Right," Clint agreed, then he frowned. "Although…"

"There was the jalapeño ice cream," Thor murmured back at him.

"Mother of God," James muttered and rubbed at his face with a gloved hand.

Why did he have a glove on? It was like 80 degrees out. And only one glove at that. What was he? Michael Jackson? Oh, maybe that wasn't nice. Maybe he had a problem with his hand. And he was embarrassed by scars or something? Or if he was Hulk, maybe one arm was always green? Wow, Izzy, how insensitive.

Wait … he was opening a tavern in the area? Maybe there'd be jobs. It would be amazing to get a decent job closer to home. Actually, she'd love to move out of the area, because it was getting more and more expensive every day, but her apartment was rent controlled and they'd have to cart out her rotting corpse before she gave that up — aside from their daughter, it was the only good thing her ex-husband The Bum ever gave her before he ditched them to go 'find himself' in Jersey. Plus, Mia's school was close and it was a good one. But, anyway …

"Well, thank you again, but I need to get home," Izzy said, and gave them a wave as she turned to head back up the street.

Steve and Thor fell in beside her. She couldn't bring herself to try to shoo them off again. Besides, AVENGERS! The other two walked behind them.

"You know, I think your bar needs a theme," Clint said.

"What do you mean?"

"Something to get people in the door," Clint explained. "Hey! You know what's due to come back? Tiki bars!"

"What's a tiki bar?" James asked sounding like he didn't want to ask but couldn't stop himself from asking.

"They're awesome. I'll show you."

Izzy had some big doubts about the long-term appeal of a tiki bar. The novelty would turn to tacky really quick. And were they ever really 'in'? She glanced over her shoulder and saw them both on their phones.

James snorted a laugh and tilted his phone's screen towards Clint so he could read it. "Darcy says, 'tell Clint to shut up.' Shut up, Clint."

Clint glowered and shoved his phone back in his pocket; there would be no tiki bar. "Darcy's no fun. She used to be fun, but then she started hanging out with you and her fun level cratered."

"You could have Thursday specials," Thor suggested brightly. "I'll bring you a few casks of Asgardian ales. There are several I think you'll like, though you'll have to mix them with something else. They're far too strong for you mortals. But there are no finer brews in any realm." Thor looked at Izzy and winked. "Thursday is named after me, you know. Thor's day."

That was so weird. She knew he was Thor, but somehow it didn't hit her that he was THE Thor. Or, she knew that, but it wasn't real until he said that, and that mean that he was like hundreds of years old. Or thousands? So weird. "I … remember that from school, I think."

Thor chuckled, mostly to himself. "Ah, Midgard. I love this place."

"Uh, where is the bar going to be?" Izzy asked, changing the subject to one her brain could actually wrap itself around.

Clint waved a hand towards the other side of the street. "You know that big hole in the ground on Havermayer?"

"By the bridge, yeah. Oh, there?" That was disappointing, it was a hole in the ground, and holes in the ground weren't anywhere near being a bar. Plus, Izzy didn't work construction. Well, not yet. If the pay was good, she just might. Also, if they'd hire her without her having any experience. But, she was a hard worker and she'd learn. She could sling concrete. Maybe. She was a hair under 5'1", but that couldn't be disqualifying, could it?

James looked reluctant to talk in general, but he nodded and shrugged at the same time like he was talking and trying to be uninterested at the same time. He wasn't rude or anything, just not very present. "The building on the corner."

"Where the Rosebud Family Restaurant used to be," Izzy said, feeling relieved. Not the hole in the ground! Then she scrunched up her nose and made a 'blah' face. "That place was terrible. I don't know how it lasted so long, it was open thirty years. I think I found cigarette ashes in my hashbrowns once."

"Gross," Cling said with a laugh.

Even James chuckled a little. "We won't serve hashbrowns."

This caught Clint's attention again and he asked, "What will you serve? You know what I miss?"

"I don't care what you miss," James said in a flat voice as he glanced away, his eyes scanning the street restlessly. Looking for trouble? Or looking to escape?

"Bratwurst," Clint said, ignoring him. "The hotdogs tonight reminded me. They were okay, but nobody does good brats here. You'd think maybe somebody would, but no. It's a Goddamned crime."

James pursed his lips and looked up at the sky and Izzy couldn't tell if he was thinking about it, or thinking about strangling Clint. "Maybe."

"I know a place in Iowa," Clint pressed, as if he sensed weakness and was going to take advantage. "They sell all sorts of sausage. German family, they've been making them for like a hundred something years. I worked in their warehouse over one winter when I was a kid. I got paid in liverwurst. Awesome job."

"Remember Mr. Sawicki with the hotdog cart, Buck?" Steve asked with a wistful sort of laugh. "He had the best franks in the city, I haven't found any that taste as good."

"I remember," James said quietly. He glanced at Clint, who gave him a triumphant little smirk.

"My guy does awesome frankfurters," Clint confirmed.

With a sigh, giving in, James nodded. "Give Darcy the number."

"My daughter would eat hotdogs for every meal if I let her," Izzy said, chatting with her new Avengers friends, as one does. Friends who were opening a bar and maybe she'd get a job. No! She wasn't going to try to leverage getting nearly mugged into a job. But, they did bring it up.

Steve's face brightened. "You've got a daughter? How old?"

"Eight," Izzy said smiling back. "And if you stick those hotdogs in a disgusting cornbread mess and fry it, you'll have her loyalty forever."

"I love corndogs," Clint said. Izzy didn't know any of them really, but somehow the idea that Clint — or Hawkeye, if that's who we was — loved corndogs didn't surprise her one bit. "We had some good ones back in the circus. Well, if Cookie remembered to change the oil. Sometimes he didn't for a few days." Clint grimaced and looked away.

The circus?

"It'll be a while," James said, looking thoughtfully across the street. "We just got the place last week. Now we've got to gut it. But Darcy wants to strip the brick off the whole building."

Steve nodded. "It's not that bad, but it doesn't fit."

"Not bad?" Clint echoed, his face twisted in disbelief. "It's horrible. The worst of the 70s. You guys are lucky you missed the 70s. I mostly missed them, but I saw the reruns. That was enough."

Izzy knew the building, it was dingy yellow brick and it looked like a horrible, soulless, government box. It was big and yellow and definitely didn't fit with some of the older brick in the neighborhood. "How do you strip brick?" She asked. "Sand blast it?"

James shook his head. "I guess they have to take this off all the way down to the framing."

"That's a lot," Izzy murmured. It would be a looooong time before that bar opened.

"We'll start in a couple days," James told her.  "But, yeah, there's a lot to do. Probably won't open until the first of next year."

Izzy tried not to pout, and then started thinking about transitioning into construction work again. Being able to walk to work would be a dream come true.

Steve hummed quietly and gave the other man a sympathetic glance. "Kind of rotten timing — starting up just when Darcy's going out of town."

James ran his hand over his face and sighed. "Fur— uh, Nick will be onsite supervising, at least at the start."

"Nick?" Thor asked. "As in …" he covered one eye with his hand and gave James a leading look. "I thought he was dead."

James dropped his head and looked uncomfortable and ashamed, and like he wanted to go back and hide in the alley with the mugger.

Izzy frowned. Except, maybe she didn't want to know. There was drama and then there was probably Godly and Avengers-level drama that she was maybe better off not knowing about. She was curious, it would make for damned fine gossip, but also, might get her black-bagged and tossed in a secret prison somewhere. She had a daughter who needed her. Curiosity wasn't worth the risk.

Clint jumped in and gave them all a sharp look, before quickly sliding his eyes to Izzy and then back to Thor. "You're thinking of our other friend Nick."

"Oh," Thor said and then he seemed to clue into what they were talking about. Good for him; Izzy was lost. "Our other friend Nick. Unlike this Nick, who is not dead. Nick … Hair … son. Yes, Nick Hairson. Harrison. Such a … magnificent head of hair. Not as magnificent as my own, of course, but very nice."

They were crossing under a streetlight, but it was still not exactly day time bright, so Izzy couldn't be sure, but it looked like a little bit of Thor himself died inside when he said all that. The Avengers were horrible liars. Which, she supposed, is what you'd hope for from heroes and role models. And, as a regular person, it was nice to know that even the Avengers could be really bad at something. It balanced the universe.

Izzy saw the lights over her building's front entrance and let out a slow, quiet breath. She made it. With help, but she made it. This long, horrible day that almost went so much worse, but somehow ended up just kind of strange, was almost over. She still had to do laundry, which sucked, and pay the babysitter, which also kind of sucked. But, she made it home safely.

"This is me," she said, waving towards the front doors. "Thank you for walking with me. I appreciate it."

"Of course," Steve said, sticking his hand out for her to shake. "I'm sorry, I don't think we ever asked for your name."

"Izzy Taveres."

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Taveres."

Steve gave her hand a friendly shake, and then Thor was next, wrapping his giant paw around her little hand. She felt like a toddler next to him. Good lord, he was huge.

"A pleasure, miss."

"Oh, hey," Steve said, as she was now shaking Clint's hand. "What's your daughter's name? I've got something for her." And he pulled a trading card out of his wallet. She saw the Avengers 'A' and his picture in uniform.

James made a sound like a stifled laugh. "You carry around Captain America cards?"

Steve firmed up his jaw and gave the other man a flat look. "Sometimes there's kids."

"Her name's Mia," Izzy said and, okay, today mostly sucked, but the look on Mia's face when she gave her the card would be worth it all. The kid was going to light up like a Christmas tree. It was very thoughtful of him to carry them around, James. Don't be a jerk. Which she, of course, didn't say out loud; she was still hoping for that job.

Steve nodded and took a pen out of his jacket and carefully wrote 'To My Friend Mia' and then his name across the card.

"Now me," said Thor, taking the card and signing his own name. Next he handed it to Clint, who signed it 'Hawkeye' with an arrow as the crossbar on the "H".

James waved his hand, "I'm not one of you jokers." Ah, okay, he wasn't the Hulk. James also didn't shake Izzy's hand, and he hung back away from them a bit, part of the group but also still a little uncomfortable about it. He didn't ignore her, though, and he dipped his head at her in a little bow and offered a little smile. "Ma'am."

Izzy carefully took the card from Clint and waved it in the air to dry the ink so it wouldn't smear. "Well, thanks again guys. Mia will love this."

"Sure thing," Steve said. "Have a nice evening."

There were a trio of additional goodbyes and then the four men started back down the street. Thor's laughter echoed against the buildings and at one point James shoved Clint into the street and Steve yanked him back onto the sidewalk.

Taking out her keys, Izzy unlocked the security door, and trudged up the stairs, her exhaustion on hold as she planned out the carefully edited, but still exciting story she'd tell about how Mom Met the Avengers.

Izzy looked down at the card in her hand and laughed. The Avengers. What a crazy night.

##

[lavenderprose]

45 for victuuri please 🙏

Viktor isn’t even supposed to be in Detroit today, and it’s frustrating that such a seemingly-small snowstorm has grounded him in the motor city for the “foreseeable future”. Six hundred flights out of Metro Airport have been cancelled already, with more forthcoming, including Viktor’s ride back home. Yakov is somewhere in Saint Petersburg, pulling out his hair and screaming.

Viktor isn’t even supposed to be here. But the moment he sees Yuuri–almost six years to the day since the last time he saw him–his heart stops, and he experiences a brilliant, stunning moment of religion. 

Dear God. Maybe everything does happen for a reason. 

Viktor sees him through the large picture windows of a hotel restaurant and bar. He’s sitting with maybe four or five other people, all of them business casual like they’ve just gotten off work. It’s seven PM on a Friday, so that’s very likely the case. It’s also the Friday before Christmas. The lights on Woodward are casting festive shadows and Yuuri is wearing a large and comfortable sweater. There are poinsettias along the bartop every six feet or so. A large artificial Christmas Tree has been set up in one corner of the sparsely populated restaurant. 

It’s been six years. Yuuri has grown from the timid boy Viktor knew in college–his shoulders always closing in, his eyes always averting–and into a gorgeous man. He looks easy in his skin, although not completely void of a certain heightened self awareness. But as Viktor watches, standing in the falling snow like some idiot from a B romcom, he sees Yuuri laugh and drag a hand through his hair–a far more stylish cut than he wore when Viktor knew him–and realizes that he’s grown up. 

Of course, as Viktor’s luck as of late would have it, Yuuri turns around just in time to see Viktor mooning. His eyebrows shoot up and Viktor sees him say Viktor? but can’t hear him, for obvious reasons.

His friends look up, too. Viktor doesn’t know if they’re friends Yuuri had in college. He doesn’t recognize them, but that doesn’t mean much–Yuuri never really introduced him to his friends, in the few short months during which they dated.

There are three men aside from Yuuri, all of them dark haired and looking to be around Yuuri’s age–which would mean late twenties now, Viktor supposes. The one closest to Yuuri says something to him, casting a strange glance in Viktor’s direction. Yuuri nods, and the other man sets a hand on Yuuri’s leg.

Viktor thinks he understands what was said, then, even if he couldn’t hear it.

Viktor as in your ex-boyfriend?

Yes.

Yuuri, to Viktor’s surprise, rises from his seat and walks across the restaurant. Viktor, against his better judgement, meets him in the breezeway.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says, casting a casually appraising gaze over Viktor’s person. “How are you? I can’t believe it’s actually you. What are you doing here?”

“Photoshoot,” Viktor says, shuffling his shoulders in an effort to seem nonchalant. “I was supposed to, um…I was actually supposed to be out of the city already, but…the storm.” He gestures outside, where the snowfall has yet to really pick up speed–but it will, he’s been assured by weatherman after weatherman, sometime overnight. 

“Oh,” says Yuuri, sparing only a brief glance outside. When his gaze returns to Viktor’s, it’s calm, but unsure. Yuuri used to practically vibrate with intensity. Too much emotion and not an outlet with which to express it–too scared of his own shadow to speak his mind. Viktor supposes that a lot changes with time and age. 

“You look good,” Viktor says, because it’s very true–practically an understatement–and it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Um. Healthy. You look like you’re…doing well.”

“You too. I’ve seen a couple of your spreads. The one in–in Vogue, that was really nice.”

“Oh,” Viktor says, and he wonders if the cold-flush on his cheeks will hide his blush. “That’s…nice of you to say.”

“I’m glad that…everything turned out well for you,” Yuuri says, smiling. It’s an earnest smile, if sad. “I was really–I never stopped wanting good things for you, even after you broke up with me. I hope you know that.”

Viktor can’t help himself–he physically takes a step back, as if punched or slapped. He blinks hard at Yuuri, who’s now staring at him in concern like he’s afraid Viktor is in the midst of a stroke.

“Me?” Viktor says slowly. “I? I broke up–broke up with you?”

Yuuri’s brow knits. “Yes?”

“Yuuri, you broke up with me,” Viktor says, shaking his head. “You ghosted me for like two weeks and when I finally got tired of it and went to your house, your sister answered the door and told me I wasn’t welcome. How is that me breaking up with you?”

“That was after you broke up with me,” Yuuri says as his expression furrow even deeper, progressing from slightly confused to definitely pissed with alarming deftness. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Viktor, you all but outright said you didn’t want to stay with me. How am I supposed to interpret that, aside from as a break-up?”

“When!” Viktor says. He knows they’re drawing attention to themselves, because Yuuri’s voice is raising and his own hands are doing wild things around his head, but he can’t help himself. “When did I ever say anything like that!”

“It was–I can’t remember, I think we were–were in bed.” Yuuri blushes, and Viktor watches it travel up his ears and down his neck and feels that old, familiar stab of want that Yuuri Katsuki has somehow always inspired in him since the day they met. “And I said–I told you I–I said something like…I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. And I knew it was early, and I would have understood if you had just said–that’s nice, or something, because–yeah, I knew we’d only been dating for, like, eight months. I knew it was too soon to say something like that. But all you said was I’ve never wanted to spend my life with anybody, and then you practically got up and ran out the door.”

Viktor’s eyes widen. He remembers the day in question. He remembers it with perfect clarity. It’s the kind of thing that plays on repeat in his head when he has nothing else to think about, in frayed sepia tones like an old movie. “No. That’s not–that’s not what I said. Or at least, not how I meant it. And I didn’t–I didn’t run out the door. I told you I had something to do. That I had to go do something.”

“How else was I supposed to interpret that?” Yuuri asks, and now his voice is back to the low hush he was using before. More sad, now, than angry. “I said the most–intimate thing I’d ever said to another person. Ever, in my life. And you left.”

Viktor shakes his head. “Yuuri, no.”

He holds up a finger, practically touching Viktor’s lips. Insistent, but gentle. “It’s okay. I understand. I wasn’t–I wasn’t the most stable person back then. I wouldn’t have wanted to tie myself down to me, either. It was probably smart, what you did.”

Viktor opens his mouth to protest again–and he plans to keep protesting, until he can make Yuuri understand how wrong he is–but the restaurant side of the breezeway opens, and the young man from before, the one who put his hand on Yuuri’s leg, steps in.

“Hey,” he says, wrapping his hand gently around Yuuri’s arm. “You good?”

“Yeah,” says Yuuri, nodding. “I’m…fine. This is, um…” he turns his head away, and attempts surreptitiousness as he swipes a tear from the corner of each eye. He clears his throat, turns back. “Phichit, this is Viktor Nikiforov. You probably know who he is.”

Phichit nods, and holds out a hand. Viktor shakes.

“Viktor, this is Phichit. I…work with him.” With the glance that passes between them, Viktor knows that their relationship must be more than a working one.

“Ah,” Viktor says, nodding. “I…understand.”

Yuuri says to Phichit, “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute. Tell Guang-Hong to stop gawking, he’s going to sprain his neck.”

Phichit chuckles, and Viktor sees his knuckles tighten on Yuuri’s arm in a squeeze. “Alright.” To Viktor, he only nods.

When he’s gone, Viktor looks back to Yuuri and asks, “Does he treat you right?”

Yuuri frowns. “What?”

“Is he good to you?”

“Phichit?”

“Yes.”

“…Of course, but–”

Viktor nods, pulls his scarf tight around his neck. “That’s good. That’s–I’m glad. I’m going to…Um, goodbye, Yuuri. Merry Christmas.”

“Viktor.”

Yuuri reaches out a hand, but Viktor grabs it–takes it between his own, and kisses it, then sets it back at Yuuri’s side. 

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri.”

Yuuri bites his lip. “Happy birthday, Viktor.”

Viktor, despite himself, smiles as he walks back out into the cold.

–

Back in Saint Petersburg, the first thing Viktor does upon arriving home–aside from picking up Makkachin from Yakov’s house, and touch base with his agent who is absolutely losing her mind–is go to the bottom drawer in a seldom-opened dresser in his closet and dig past the contents–mostly memrobilia of college; pictures, old school supplies, a couple of documents pertaining to his first couple of modeling gigs–until he finds a small box. It’s blue velvet, the inside is satin, and on the center of the cushion is a ring.

Viktor vividly remembers the day he bought it. He remembers how excited he was, almost frantic. 

He remembers Yuuri being gone when he returned. 

Several hours later, Viktor is four shots into a bottle of vodka has the open ring box next to him on the table when his phone vibrates.

The text is from a number that isn’t listed in his phone, but it reads:

Viktor–

I hope it’s okay that I never got rid of your number. I don’t even know if this will work. You might have changed your number, but I had to try.

I don’t know what happened between us. I never really have. But I know that we’ve both done a lot of growing the last six years and I think, maybe, it would be good for us both if we got together and talked. 

I know your schedule is busy. Mine is too. But I really want to talk to you. It may sound stupid, since we only dated for a few months in college, but I’ve missed you a lot. Maybe the feeling is mutual. If it is, please consider what I said.

-Yuuri

(Oh, by the way…Phichit isn’t my boyfriend.)

The sound Yakov makes upon discovering that Viktor is returning to Detroit less than twenty-four hours after he left is legendary. 

[botanistlester]

Sweet Pea (20/34)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath. Warnings: Abusive relationship, violence A/N: This chapter includes warnings for anxiety, cheating, and non-descriptive sex.  thanks to @snowbunnylester for editing this for me! The lyrics at the beginning of this fic are from the song Call Your Girlfriend by Robyn!

I have started a patreon account for those of you who would like to support me and my writing endeavors! You can find my patreon account here, and also find more information about perks of this here!

Previous | Masterlist

Read it on AO3 Read it on Wattpad

-

Chapter Twenty

It won’t make sense right now, but you’re still her friend. And then you let her down easy.

-

“Where are you going?”

Phil turned, flinching, his heart beating fast. He didn’t know why he’d flinched, but the sudden voice, paired with the words, made him feel as though he were going to die, and he didn’t really know why. His heart was a train in his chest, and it didn’t calm down even when he recognised the voice, knew that it was Dan, knew that Dan was just asking him in genuine curiosity why Phil was suddenly leaving the house with no explanation.

The words had been said curiously, not angrily, and suddenly Phil had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had.

Phil took a deep breath before he answered. He knew that he was being strange, kind of secretive. He knew that he was a piece of shit for abandoning Dan at his own house while he went out for the first time in weeks. “I’m meeting up with Ledjon,” Phil responded quietly. He messed with a loose string on his jeans, looking at his boots.

“Oh!” Dan exclaimed, his eyebrows raising with surprise. Phil didn’t know why he was so surprised. Phil was allowed to have friends. “Okay, yeah! Yeah, that’s great!”

He was too enthusiastic. It made Phil’s palms begin to sweat. He tried to get over that, tried to tell himself that everything was okay and that Dan wasn’t actually upset with him for going out with other friends, but he couldn’t seem to stop his mind from running, from telling him that everything he was doing was wrong, wrong, wrong. Was Dan actually mad that he was going to hang out with someone else by himself? Did he not want to stay with Phil anymore?

Phil was frozen between the door and Dan, torn. He didn’t know what to do. He stared at the door, at the handle, at how easy it would be to leave. But then he looked at Dan, his smooth face, that smile. Was there a hint of maliciousness in that smile? Was this a test to see what Phil would choose? If Phil chose Ledjon, would Dan leave him?

Dan’s expression turned into a frown and Phil braced himself, squaring his shoulders to prepare himself for the onslaught of yelling that was probably about to take place. Dan was probably going to tell him how he wasn’t allowed to see Ledjon, that he wasn’t allowed to have other friends, that Dan didn’t want him to go.

But no. Instead, Dan just asked, “Are you okay?” in a soft voice, and Phil’s shoulders relaxed only slightly.

“I’m fine,” he lied because he didn’t want to admit that there was something wrong with him in the first place. He wanted Dan to believe him, to back off and stop questioning everything he did for a split second. So he put on his strong face and grinned brightly at Dan. “I just wanted to hang out with Ledjon for a bit, if that’s alright.”

Dan nodded and he smiled back, reaching out to put his hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Of course it’s okay, I’m not your handler, Phil,” he said quietly. “I’m really glad that you’re going to hang out with a friend.”

Phil shook his head. “You and I have been hanging out everyday for like two months!”

“But it’s not the same,” Dan sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You need to see your other friends too. Which is why I’m glad you’re seeing Ledjon.”

Phil could tell that Dan meant it by the way his eyes shone, so soft, so caring. Phil got an overwhelming urge in his stomach to hug him, so he silently held his arms open wide, very much asking for an embrace.

Dan didn’t think twice before giving it. His arms wrapped around Phil’s shoulders and Phil buried himself into Dan’s chest. Dan was warm and he smelled like a mahogany cologne, and it was familiar and relaxing in the best of ways. Dan stroked his hair lightly. “You have fun with Ledjon, okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”

Phil nodded wordlessly, squeezed Dan tightly, and finally let go. He didn’t want to let go, but hugging for that long was probably weird, so societal norms ended up taking over his brain. He felt like one of those hug wolves from Adventure Time, thirsting for affection.

“I’ll be home soon,” he said, and then he turned and slowly left.

-

Jace Owens - 2:47pm

Hi babe, just wanted to drop by and say i love you and i hope youre having a good day!

Phil Lester - 3:01pm

Love u too. Im just having a lazy day today, watching some cartoons with dan. Miss u

Jace Owens - 3:02pm

Miss you too! Tell dan i said hello

Phil Lester - 3:10pm

Will do

-

Ledjon was nice. Phil liked hanging out with Ledjon. He was soft and kind and just a little bit quirky. He made Phil laugh and he was the only person who had experienced what Phil had gone through with Nico. Aside from Dan, Ledjon was another person who Phil could just talk to for hours without the fear of judgement, all because Ledjon had gone through the same things.

His smile was warm and he was warm. Phil liked him, liked being around him, because he made Phil feel at ease. They didn’t do much together, but Ledjon always made Phil a nice cup of coffee whenever he came over, and then they’d have a late brunch with scrambled eggs. The first time Phil saw Ledjon put salsa on his eggs, Phil had crinkled his nose in disgust before he tried it and realised that it was actually really good, and now they ate their salsa-y eggs together with old school Evanescence playing in the background.

Bring Me to Life was blasting on high that afternoon, and Ledjon was singing it loudly and dramatically. He grabbed his fork and used it as a microphone, a little bit of egg flinging from the utensil and onto the floor. Phil watched the egg with rapt fascination as it splattered against the linoleum. A bit of red salsa painted the tile like blood spatter, and Phil couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from it. Ledjon’s bad singing filled his ears, but he suddenly couldn’t hear anything.

Maybe the egg was a metaphor for Phil’s life; a squashed egg on the floor, innards dripping out, staining the beautiful white flooring. Iconic.

Phil was disrupted from his thoughts by Ledjon pushing his chair back, making a disgusting squeaking noise on the tile. He looked up to see Ledjon smiling softly down at him. “You finished?” he asked. Phil silently looked at his plate. He had only eaten a few bites of his food. He nodded anyways and handed his plate to Ledjon, who took it to the sink and started rinsing it off.

Phil cleared his throat. “So you don’t live with Nico anymore?” he asked, and his voice broke on the name. Apparently he couldn’t even speak about him correctly. Phil was the worst kind of human.

Ledjon hummed and shook his head. “No. We moved out a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to put up with me and I didn’t want to put up with him. That’s all there is to it.” He smiled and his hand gripped tightly to the sponge. His knuckles turned white. “I couldn’t stay here with him any longer. Not when I could hear him in the other room just using people. Abusing people.”

A knot appeared in Phil’s stomach at the term abuse, at the fact that Nico had just been using him. He hadn’t heard anything from Chandler since he’d last texted Chandler all those weeks ago, but the knowledge that Nico was cheating on her… abusing her, made something both evil and frightening ignite his bones. For some reason, Phil was glad. He was glad that she was getting a taste of what had happened to him. He was glad that Nico was cheating on her. He was glad that Nico was just using her for his own gain.

It was sick. He was sick. He shouldn’t wish this on anybody, shouldn’t wish for the same thing that had happened to him to happen to someone else, whether they’d done him wrong or not. Chandler used to be his best friend, and she was just like him; so blind-sided by Nico’s charm that she couldn’t see the manipulation and lies just underneath the surface.

And yet, Phil felt the satisfaction brimming beneath the surface of his mind. Maybe she would understand what had happened to him once Nico finished with her, would understand why Phil was now suddenly absolutely fucking crazy, why he couldn’t look at a goddamn pen without passing out.

Maybe then she would understand why he’d needed her to tell him so badly that he was in an abusive relationship and that he needed to get out months before this could all happen.

He wanted to tell her the same thing, but he had no doubt in his mind that she would shame him and would shit on his beliefs and make him feel even more insane than he already did. Besides, he’d made a mental promise to himself not to talk to Chandler ever again after she’d blamed him for Nico’s cheating. Phil didn’t need that in his life when he was already hurting so deeply.

“Phil?”

Phil hummed, blinking, and glanced up at Ledjon, whose brow was furrowed. It was then that he realised that he’d completely zoned out and hadn’t responded or even acknowledged what Ledjon had been saying. He felt strangely empty inside, void of emotions, and it was strange, but he should be used to it by now.

“You doin’ okay, mate?”

Phil nodded. He stood up and felt like he was going to stumble, but he didn’t. He stood tall and met Ledjon’s eyes, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’m great,” he lied through his teeth. Lying came easy for him now, and he didn’t want to think about why that was or when it’d started to be so normalized in his life.

Hadn’t he just lied to Jace a few hours ago?

Phil and Ledjon ended up sitting on the couch together watching television. They were watching Gravity Falls, which brought Phil back to the times when he and Nico had been cuddled up together on the couch, watching the same cartoon while Phil laughed at the lighthearted jokes and Nico ran gentle fingers through his hair. The memory was cloudy now, and Phil’s throat closed up a little bit because he could hardly remember what Nico’s voice sounded like, or the way his lips felt pressed to his forehead.

Shouldn’t he be glad for that? Why did it still hurt?

He and Ledjon were watching the episode about Manotaurs and how Dipper really wanted to be more manly. The jokes about high testosterone used to make Phil laugh aloud, but now he just stared at the television with an empty gaze while Ledjon giggled beside him. Their thighs were touching, and Phil’s eyes were drawn to how close they were. They were so close that Phil could feel Ledjon’s warmth seeping through his jeans. He was so warm that it made Phil crave- crave something, anything. He didn’t really know what, other than the fact that he craved and Ledjon’s thigh was burning a hole through his trousers, and Phil really didn’t want to pay attention to Gravity Falls anymore or how Dipper had gotten his first chest hair.

His phone vibrated twice in a row, and Phil fished it out of his pocket, snapping out of his weird trance for a millisecond. He read over the two text messages, one from Dan, one from Jace, but he didn’t feel anything at all, and that frightened him.

Dan Howell - 7:23pm

Hope youre having fun with ledjon! I had some of the leftover pasta in your fridge, i hope you dont mind soz

Jace Owens - 7:23pm

Hi baby i hope youre having fun with dan. I love you!

Phil groaned and flopped to the side at Jace’s message. This just made him nuzzle into Ledjon’s side, which was foreign but not exactly unwelcome. Ledjon jumped a bit, made a surprised noise, before hesitantly putting his arm around Phil’s shoulders, his touch soft and completely unsure. Phil didn’t blame him for that. He was unsure as well.

He eventually decided not to text Jace back, instead opting to text Dan a confirmation that he could eat all of the pasta he wanted before setting his phone on the coffee table where he couldn’t grab it without reaching for it. He tried to focus back on the next episode of Gravity Falls, one resembling Street Fighter, but his head was swimming and his thoughts were too loud to focus again.

He shuffled a bit, and rested his head on Ledjon’s shoulder. He could smell the cologne that Ledjon wore; something flowery and musky, somewhat like sandalwood. Ledjon was rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and it was soothing, but it was all that Phil could focus on anymore. Maybe he just didn’t want to watch Gravity Falls anymore - the longing for Nico, for being held by Nico becoming too much.

His lips quivered like his hands, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment so he could take a deep breath, but he was only choked by the musky scent of Ledjon. Ledjon, who was there for him, who understood him, who cared for him, and who currently had his arm wrapped around him like he was trying to protect him from all harm.

Phil turned his head up to look at him, and their faces were so close that when Ledjon glanced down at him, Phil’s nose grazed the facial hair on Ledjon’s chin. He could see green in Ledjon’s blue eyes. It was quite pleasing to look at, in all honesty. The green reminded Phil of Nico’s eyes, and for a second, Phil could have sworn that he was on the couch with Nico and not Ledjon.

Maybe that was why he suddenly leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a questioning kiss.

Ledjon didn’t taste anything like Nico, and the noise he made didn’t sound like Nico either, but it felt good. For the first time since Nico, Phil didn’t feel numb when he was kissing someone. Ledjon pulled away and his eyes were wide, filled with uncertainty.

“Phil, what are you doing?” he whispered, but Phil just hushed him by kissing him again.

He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that he needed a distraction, something to stop him from thinking about the way Nico’s hands had once curled through his hair, or the way Nico’s fingertips had once pressed tightly into his hips.

“Just kiss me,” Phil said, and he didn’t like how it sounded like he was begging. He heard his phone vibrate on the table, and he grew just a bit more desperate, his hands wrapping up in Ledjon’s shirt like he was his lifeline. “Please,” he added, and then he kissed Ledjon again.

This time, Ledjon didn’t pull away. He wasn’t as rough as Nico, and his lips were slightly larger than Nico’s were too. Phil could feel his facial hair scratching at his face, a reminder that he wasn’t Nico, but Phil pulled him closer anyway and tangled his hands into Ledjon’s hair to keep him close. Ledjon didn’t kiss with his tongue like Nico did. He didn’t grab Phil’s face to keep him in place. His lips were soft and not forceful. His movements were calculated, caring, like Phil was a piece of glass that he was afraid to break.

Phil growled and pulled away, resting their foreheads together so he could look Ledjon straight in the eyes. He wasn’t thinking anymore, animalistic instincts taking over completely. “Be rough with me,” Phil ordered gruffly. “I want you to kiss me like you hate me. I want you to fucking destroy me.”

Ledjon, still confused, just nodded and sat back as Phil climbed onto his lap and reattached their lips. He was rougher this time, biting and nipping at Phil’s lips until they were bitten red and swollen. His hands gripped onto Phil’s hips, his fingers tightening until Phil could swear they were leaving behind purple bruises that he would later be able to connect like constellations on his skin.

There was a heat in Phil’s body that only intensified by the minute. Gravity Falls was forgotten behind them as Phil ground down onto Ledjon. He didn’t think as he stripped both of their shirts off, throwing them to the floor where they would stay for the next few hours. His mind was blank as he begged Ledjon to fuck him hard and rough, hard enough to leave Phil gasping in both pain and pleasure.

But the best part of it all was that Phil could finally feel something. He could feel something other than the vast emptiness inside of his chest that had been there for weeks now. Yes, it was a feeling of pain, but at least it was something.

When they’d finished, they laid on opposite sides of the couch in complete silence. Phil had a blanket wrapped around his entire naked body, and his hips hurt, and his throat hurt and eyes were watering, but it was good. He stared at the ceiling and wondered when he’d started to stray from his vanilla sex life into someone who needed pain to feel a burst of emotion in his otherwise empty chest.

He wondered when he’d become the type of person to cheat on his partner with one of his close friends. With who used to be Nico’s roommate.

He didn’t know what Ledjon was thinking, but he had been quiet the entire time he’d helped Phil clean up, a slight frown on his face. Phil wondered if the sex had been bad for him, if he thought Phil was a dirty slut. He wondered if he was going to tell Nico.

He fucking hoped so.

“Tell him.”

Ledjon looked at Phil then. Phil didn’t have to glance away from the ceiling to know that. He could feel his eyes on him from across the bed.

“What are you on about, Phil?” he asked. His voice sounded tired. Phil wondered if Ledjon hated him.

And yet, Phil spoke anyway. His voice was hoarse, a mere whisper. “Tell Nico we slept together.” He looked at Ledjon then, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please hurt him like he’s hurt us.”

Ledjon sighed and he moved closer to Phil, which Phil thought was a good thing. He took his hand, and his hand was cold. Very cold. It wasn’t as warm of a touch as Nico’s, or even Dan’s for that matter.

“Phil, listen.” Phil cocked his head. He was listening. “I’m not going to tell Nico what we did. I’m not going to tell anybody.”

Phil’s eyebrows furrowed and a shock of disappointment went through him, followed by anger. Was Ledjon really that embarrassed of him? Had the sex really been that bad? “Well why the fuck not? You didn’t seem to have any problem fucking my brains out ten minutes ago, so loud that the neighbours could probably hear.” He was angry, shaking. He felt like he was worthless, like he was bad at sex and that was why Ledjon didn’t want to tell anybody about this.

Maybe that was why Nico had found somebody else to screw so quickly.

“Phil, Phil, no, hey.” Ledjon’s voice broke through Phil’s insecurities, and he squeezed Phil’s hand tightly in his own. Phil wanted to smack his hand away, suddenly not wanting to be touched, but he didn’t dare do so because he was frozen in place, frozen under that blue-green gaze. “I’m not saying I regret what we did, and I’m not trying to reject you. It’s just not going to be in either of our best interests if anybody - Nico especially - knows about this. You… you have Jace, and even knowing that…” he trailed off and Phil’s eyes were drawn to the dark blue sheets and how they were so blue they were almost black, almost like a bruise. “I love you, okay? A lot. But I love you as a friend. I never want to hurt you, and I never wanted something like this to happen that could potentially ruin our friendship.”

I love you. Those words again. Even in this context, even knowing that Ledjon meant it platonically, Phil’s heart still sped up. He clenched his teeth tight and tried to stop the sudden watering of his eyes so that he didn’t burst into tears right then and there.

Suddenly, he felt dirty. He felt used. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to face Ledjon anymore. He was embarrassed about how needy and desperate he’d been only an hour before, how he hadn’t really given Ledjon a choice and had just begged him to make him feel something. The bruises on his hips suddenly felt like they were on fire, and his tongue was swollen in his mouth. He was still naked but he suddenly wished that he had his clothes on.

Ledjon didn’t want him, and he’d cheated on Jace, just like Nico had cheated on him. Phil was exactly the kind of person he hated, and neither Ledjon nor Jace deserved that.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered, taking in a deep, shaky breath, wrapping the sheet around his body and standing up. “I would like to be friends still I just… I need to get out of here. I’m so sorry.”

Ledjon sat upright and started to make his way over to Phil, reaching out, but Phil flinched away from his touch, his heart roaring in his ears. Ledjon’s hands dropped to his side and he looked helpless. Phil didn’t like that he’d caused that. “Can I at least make sure you get home okay and walk you home?”

Phil shook his head and started throwing his clothes on, not caring that his shirt was on backwards and he’d put his socks on inside out. Ledjon stopped him, tsking, and Phil could do nothing else but still, his mind spinning. With gentle hands, careful not to touch him, Ledjon put Phil’s hoodie on for him.

“At least wrap up properly,” he said softly, and Phil nodded numbly, thanking him in spirit rather than using words. He didn’t know if he could speak just then even if he wanted to.

It wasn’t long after that that Phil found his way out the door, shoving his phone into his pocket without looking at any of the messages. He knew what he would find there; another text from Dan, and probably multiple texts from Jace that would make his stomach churn as though he were going to throw up everything he’d eaten that day. Phil didn’t want to think about Jace, didn’t want to think about how he’d done exactly what Nico had done to him.

He couldn’t help but think that he was turning out to be exactly like Nico, and that frightened him to no end.

Later, when he got home, his face feeling numb from the bitter outside air, Dan greeted him at the door. At that point, Phil knew he should probably just ask Dan to move in with him considering he was there all the time anyway, but he didn’t want to think about that just now. He was too upset over the fact that he didn’t deserve anyone, let alone Dan.

Phil pushed past Dan until he was in his room, ignoring the concerned questions that Dan was throwing at him. Only when he reached his bed did he break down, curling into a ball and crying like the first time that Phil had told Nico to leave.

Dan didn’t even ask before lying down with him, holding him tight to his chest. His hands rubbed over Phil’s back, and it was soothing. It didn’t burn like Ledjon’s had, didn’t burn like Jace’s did. He was calming, didn’t ask questions when he knew Phil couldn’t answer. He was just there for Phil to cry on, his strength when Phil couldn’t be strong by himself.

Phil’s chest hurt, and he wanted to tear his heart out, because he didn’t want it anymore. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore, so used and in so much pain that he could hardly function anymore. He wanted to feel everything and nothing at all.

He wanted to go back to how he’d been before, back when he’d been happy and carefree. Back when he’d been normal.

The only issue was that he didn’t quite remember what normal was supposed to feel like anymore.

Chapter Twenty-One

[highbuttonsports]

THIS WEEK IN JETS HOCKEY….

Every Thursday at The High Button, we explore the events and stories of the Winnipeg Jets on and off the ice. The Jets had a couple slow outings against the Canadiens last week, but responded Monday night with a huge 4-0 win against the Canucks on the road. The Jets seem to be getting back on track, and have done an excellent job rebounding after losses this season. This week, we take a deeper look at the Jets long-term plans, and some thoughts on how the expansion draft will effect the Jets deadline plans:

DO THE JETS WANT A FORWARD?

I think Kevin Cheveldayoff would certainly tell you that any time you can make a move that makes your team better, you make it. While we already know their potential targets on the blue line as I covered a few weeks ago, but the important question needs to be asked: will the Jets bring in a forward at this years deadline?

The simple answer is yes. Kevin Cheveldayoff has brought in at least one rental forward in every single deadline where the Jets were in a spot to compete for a playoff spot. However, who that forward might be is the more complicated question.

While I do believe there’s a strong chance they bring someone in up-front, there’s a strong possibility that it’s going to be a twelfth forward. The Jets are very pleased with their top-nine group, and rightfully so. Having said that, it takes one injury to the wrong guy to throw off the rhythm.

While there is a plethora of guys who could fill that void, it becomes difficult to pinpoint names for a few reasons. Firstly, aside from maybe 5-6 teams, it’s hard to really declare anybody a seller at this stage because of a four-point divisional swing in each game. This year, you’re never really out of it until you are. Secondly, the border quarantine limits some options. I would love to believe that anybody who gets traded from a bottom-feeder to the (likely) playoff bound Jets would welcome this, I can’t guarantee that for every name.

A guy like Curtis Lazar would see like a fit from the Buffalo Sabres; two-way forward who works hard and can chip in some PK minutes. He also makes $800k for another year, which is enticing to have around as bait during the expansion draft. He’s a Cheveldayoff type, but he’s just one name in quite the fishbowl of guys.

SPEAKING OF THE EXPANSION DRAFT…

I’m also getting sick of talking about it, believe me. But we have to explore it a bit, and now seems like a good time considering it could impact what the Jets do at the trade deadline. Of course, the Seattle Kraken enter the league next season, and their expansion draft will follow the same rules as the Golden Knights did in 2017. We know now that these rules laid the groundwork for VGK to put together a pretty good team, for now and in the future (which I guess, is also now?)

So, a lot of teams, particularly the good one’s, should be kind of nervous about the expansion draft. I know what you’re thinking - “the Jets are pretty good? Should I be scared?”

The answer is only a little bit. I am here to be reassuring of course.

If you are unsure about the expansion draft rules, I can explain them fairly quickly. The Kraken are required to a player from every single NHL team except the Vegas Golden Knights. Of those 30 players, 20 of them need to be under contract for the 2021-2022 season. They are allowed to take 10 expiring contracts with hopes of signing those players, but I imagine there’s only a scenario or two where they’ll do that, and we’ll get back to that anyway. As for the non-Kraken teams, they are allowed to submit a list of protected or ineligible players in one of two ways:

a list of seven forwards, three defensemen, and one goaltender

a list of eight skaters, and one goaltender

These teams can essentially protect whatever collection of their players that they want, but players who have a no-movement clause (NMC) or a no-trade clause (NTC) have to be protected.

So, there you go. You’re an expert as much as the rest of us now. I do have some thoughts as to what the Jets will do with their expansion protection list. If you asked me today, here’s what it looks like to me:

FORWARDS

Blake Wheeler (NMC), 2. Nikolaj Ehlers, 3. Mark Scheifele, 4. Pierre-Luc Dubois, 5. Kyle Connor, 6. Mason Appleton, 7. Andrew Copp (RFA)

DEFENSE

Josh Morrissey, 2. Neal Pionk (RFA), 3. Logan Stanley

GOALTENDER

The reigning Vezina Trophy winner

Of course, there are a few things to note here. First off, Blake Wheeler only needs to be protected because of his no-movement clause if he doesn’t want to waive. Now, in theory, the Jets could ask Wheeler to waive, and in theory, Wheeler could waive; they expose him, and we see what happens. However, I can almost guarantee the Jets won’t ask. Say what you will about Wheeler, but that isn’t happening. They love him, he loves it there, and has been the face of the team (for the most part) since 2011. He’s staying.

Now, the other obvious talking points are the two RFA’s. You might be asking “if the Jets are going to protect a players rights, why not find a way to get Adam Lowry on the list?” And that is a great question. Firstly, I think there is a strong chance the Jets reach an extension with Copp and Pionk prior to the expansion draft. Whether or not they put pen to paper ahead of time, I’m not sure. But I do think there will be an agreement in place. So while they may be RFA’s, that might just be a paper thing by that point. They are both very much in the Jets’ long-term plans.

Adam Lowry is an interesting discussion, but it ultimately ends with him not going very far. With Adam’s dad Dave now an assistant coach in Winnipeg, I would have to believe his interest rests with staying put. Of course, there is the discussion of financial desire, and the Jets don’t have money to burn. However, I do see Lowry being more of the “make it work” persuasion, a type there aren’t many of in the league.

The Kraken can take Lowry, and try to make it work. Then it doesn’t, and he goes to free agency, and comes back to Winnipeg. No matter what - I find it hard to believe he’s leaving the city of Winnipeg this summer and bringing all his stuff with him on a one-way ticket.

After all that, I imagine Logan Stanley is the only surprise name on here. That’s fair. It’s DeMelo or Stanley, take your pick. My preference is with the kid, for a couple simple reasons. The first is the potential factor. The second is the usage. I don’t think DeMelo is utilized in situations that makes him as effective as he could be. He’s an enticing option for the Kraken but he is very much a useful top-4 D. I wouldn’t fault either choice the Jets make, but it’s probably going to come down to one of those two.

Another key note about the expansion draft is Dominic Toninato, who looks poised to spend some time in the Jets lineup if he can stay healthy for now. If Toninato plays in four more games this season, he becomes eligible for the expansion, and helps the Jets’ meet their requirements. He is technically another player for the Kraken to select. That eligibility could be key this summer.

So what does this all mean? It’s important to recognize that acquiring a player with term could bump one of these players off the Jets protected list, OR that the newly acquired player is in danger of going to the Kraken. And I mean, in some cases that is perfectly fine. A potential trade for a Mattias Ekholm type would push some of these guys out of favour anyway. However, there are players out there where the question is “would it be worth losing so-and-so in the expansion draft,” and this is currently what they are working with.

I dunno. I still think David Savard, but I have no real basis for that other than my Spidey-sense seems to right on Cheveldayoff things every year. The deadline draws closer. We just have to wait and see.

- Tyler

[forbidden-creepypasta]

Dis-Row-Roth, or: Our Vacation Did Not Go As Planned

It was my senior year of college more than a few summers ago, and I wanted to do something special to mark the end of my last semester. I came up with the idea of a camping trip. I'd never been camping before in my life, so why not. I talked my friend Caleb, our friend Matt, and Matt's girlfriend Sarah into going with me. My parents have six acres of coastal land just outside of Lompoc, a small city in California northwest of Santa Barbara, where they stay for the winter. Our campsite was at the edge of a ten-foot crag about 100 yards inland, overlooking the beach and ocean. They had an old truck camper there set up on stilts that we could use. Not exactly roughing it, but hey I never liked tents. Too flimsy. A path runs alongside the cliff edge for a while before gradually winding its way down to the shore. The only downside to the site was having to hike half a mile to reach it. After parking at my parent's house, we strapped as much crap to our backs as we could manage and hoofed it. Our first night there was pretty chilled out. Plenty of drinking, swimming, relaxing. The view was awesome, with the stars and crescent moon twinkling on the ocean. Matt and Sarah had turned in for the night around 3am but Caleb and I, still basking in the glow of a good buzz, waded along the shore. We were discussing our less-than-ambitious plans for after college when we made an unexpected find. “Whoa, is that natural?” he asked. We got closer. They were these crazy drawings someone had made in the wet sand. Nope, definitely not natural. And I'm not talking hearts or smiley faces or anything like that. This shit was intricate. Fancy-looking stars, triangles, cubes, and other shapes I could probably identify if I hadn't flunked geometry, all arranged into a giant symmetrical pattern. The detail was insane. And judging from the super-fine lines in some of the shapes, it was obvious they hadn't just used their finger to draw them. Underneath the pattern were initials: “D.L.I.” A signature? Caleb smirked. I hate it when he smirks. He looks like such a goofy asshole. “What the fuck? Matt or Sarah do this?” He half-drunkenly kicked his feet through the sand, ruining the design. “Hey man, not cool! Someone spent a lot of time on this shit!” Caleb kindly reminded me that if it wasn't any of our doing, then this anonymous “someone” was on my parent's private property. Good point. Good, sobering, point. We decided to head back to the camper. Caleb muttered along the way. “Must've been recent too. Seriously, who does that? Scribbling in the sand with, like, rulers and compasses and shit. Just gonna get washed away...” He trailed off, and stopped walking. When I asked what was up, he asked if I heard music: “Like this faint piping? And bells?” I stopped to listen, but heard only the ocean. He swore there was music coming from somewhere. There was nothing in sight though -- no people, no boats -- to explain it. I told him he was hearing things, and he shrugged it off. “Gone now anyway.” We walked the trail back up to the camper. We wanted to show Matt and Sarah the drawings next morning, but the surf had taken them by then. Matt was curious but Sarah thought we were making it up. That day went by same as the first, except we kept an eye out for any possible trespassers. When night came, things got weird. The four of us were lounging on the beach when Sarah suddenly got real quiet. Normally she's the kind of person who shares every last thought that enters her mind, as it enters, no matter how trivial. A nonstop mental broadcaster. So her silence didn't go unnoticed. Matt nudged her. “Honey?” “Where's that coming from?” Caleb and I looked at each other. “Where's what coming from?” “Those voices.” She cocked her head. “Sounds like 'dis...row...roof.' Or 'roth?' Dis-row-roth?” We're all staring at her like she's crazy when Caleb bolts upright. “There! It's back! The music!” “The fuck are you guys talking about? It's just the ocean. Or the wind or something,” I groaned. “Does the ocean have fucking bells? You hear that too, Sarah? That piping? Hm-hm, hmmm-hmmm.” He hummed out the tune with alternating high and low pitches. But Sarah was lost in concentration, straining to listen for voices nobody else could hear. Finally she stood up, said she wasn't feeling well, and headed back to the camper. Matt shrugged his shoulders and followed after her. “Aaand it's gone again. This is driving me nuts.” Caleb sat back down. Our third and final night there...well fuck. I don't even know how to describe it. We were all cooped up in the camper shortly after the sun had gone down. The three of us guys were playing blackjack on the overhead bed. Sarah was fiddling with her camcorder at the dining table, trying to explain the significance of her phantom sounds. She kept insisting it was one word, Disrowroth, that she'd heard her grandfather say before. Said it was a name from one of his made-up stories he used to tell her at bedtime. She couldn't remember much about the story aside from one phrase connected with it: “His mantle trembles under the horned moon.” “Well thanks Sarah, that clears things up,” said Caleb, flashing his stupid smirk. “I'm going down to the beach. Anybody wanna join me?” Matt and I took him up on the offer but Sarah had a headache and wanted to stay inside. We took a shortcut to the beach by climbing directly down the rock face. It's a pretty easy climb, going down anyway. I jumped the last few feet off the cliff. “Holy Christ, this sand is cold!” Should've brought shoes. We didn't do much. Made a fire, roasted some hotdogs, cracked beers. Then stretched out on the sand, just shooting the breeze. I want to emphasize that none of us were drinking enough to get blackout drunk. That's why the missing time makes no sense. That's why it was such a shock to wake up and feel water lapping at my feet. I looked around. We were still on the shore. To my right, Caleb and Matt were passed out. Sarah had come down from the camper and was furiously shaking them to wake them up. No idea what time it was. Right away, I was hit with this overwhelming sensation of “wrongness.” Everything was wrong. Sarah wasn't talking but I could tell she'd been spooked by something. The look in her eyes and her clenched teeth said it all. My two friends jerked their heads around, confused. Sarah's panic seemed to rub off on us. It was as if we'd woken up from a dream to a surreal nightmare. The ocean had grown louder, almost deafening. The landscape looked gray, glassy, alien. And it was too dark. The others noticed this too. “Where's the moon?” blurted Matt. “Where's the fucking stars and moon?” I looked up to a black void, and stammered something about cloud cover. “What clouds!” he shouted back. Then I heard it, or thought I heard it. Those three syllables, layered on top of the wind: Dis-row-roth. Over and over, like distant chanting. And I swear the roar of the ocean now, the ebb and flow of the crashing waves, had a disturbingly musical quality. Maybe what Sarah and Caleb said earlier was getting to me. Whatever the case, I felt an unconscious, primal urge to leave the shore. As in, caveman-about-to-be-pounced-on-by-sabertooth type of primal. My legs were doing the thinking now, and they were screaming RUN. They got the go-ahead as soon as Sarah pointed toward the water and screamed. Deep, guttural, a scream that peeled my skin. I looked back for only a split second. I don't know what I saw. An undefined, undulating mass -- debris washing ashore maybe? Some kind of fish? Nothing? It doesn't matter. I didn't need to see anything. We all bolted on cue, running from some vague, possibly imagined threat. I remember how the sand sloughed and sighed beneath our feet. It felt sticky, and I tripped constantly. “What?! What are we running from?” yelled Caleb. Sarah shrieked something in reply I couldn't understand. We took the same shortcut back up the cliff. In hindsight I'm not so sure it was much of a shortcut. It's only ten feet, but going up is harder than descending. The rock face bit at our feet and we struggled on the near-vertical slope. Finally we pulled ourselves over the lip and piled into the camper. Not much was said after we'd calmed down a bit. What could we say, really? I almost felt childish, although that sense of “wrongness” lingered. It's hard to describe (and I can't speak for the others), but it's like the beach, the path, the camper -- it was all there just for show, not meant to be used, and we were breaking some unwritten rule simply by being there. You know how people say “someone walked over my grave?” Well in this case, we were the ones doing the walking. Anyway, I'm not sure when the thunder and lightning started. I know it wasn't raining. When I first noticed it, I got the impression it'd been going on for a while already. Caleb had been looking out a window facing the shore when, after a bright flash, he gasped. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” We crowded around him. “Now what?” He told us to wait for another flash of lightning. We did, and in the next burst of light saw a row of murky figures far out on the shore. There were maybe a dozen of them, and they were just standing there. Couldn't make out any details. “Oh shit. Where'd they come from?” squeaked Matt. Sarah retreated to the corner of the bed and tucked her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. I can't tell you how vulnerable I felt, holed up in that little camper at the edge of the cliff. At least it wasn't a tent. We talked over each other: “Are they looking at us?” “Should we leave?” “I can't tell if they're moving.” “Wait for another flash.” With the next few lightning strikes, the figures seemed to have moved closer to the shoreline. Another flash showed they were in the water. We watched as they marched further into the sea in slideshow-like progression. Flash. Water up to their waists. Flash. Water up to their heads. Flash. Then they were gone. They weren't swimming, they walked into the goddamned sea and just disappeared. The storm died out a little later. We stayed awake as long as we could before succumbing to exhaustion, one by one. I was the first to wake up at the crack of, well, about 12:45 in the afternoon actually. The floor was strewn with water, sand, and blood. Guess our feet got shredded pretty good on the cliff. There was no sign of anyone on the beach. We found traces of a few footprints in the process of being washed away, but that's it. Hell, some of them were probably ours. After the hike back to my parent's (we made incredible time, I gotta say), our little ordeal was officially over. Well, almost over. If all that weren't enough, there's one more piece to the story, and this one creeps me out the most. Matt and Sarah broke up a few months later. She'd left a box of her stuff at his place and never bothered picking it up. Among the contents was her camcorder. Never did use the thing. But apparently, that night she was fiddling with it in the camper, she must've pushed the record button at some point without realizing it. For the rest of our trip it sat on the table seat facing the wall, recording until the tape ran out. Matt played back the video for me. Nothing to see, but the audio was all there: the thunder, our shouting, Sarah's whimpering, everything. “What exactly am I listening for?” I asked. “Wait for it...” he said, fast-forwarding the footage. It was only by chance, skimming through the rest of it, that he'd found something else, something while we were all asleep. Matt, Caleb, and I maintain that none of us got up during the night. Matt had even gotten in touch with Sarah again to ask her. She said she was out like a log until waking up with the rest of us. Which means either one of us sleepwalks, or someone came into our camper. Because you can hear the door opening. The door I locked. You can hear someone shuffling around. You can hear...I don't know what the hell it is. Something squishy? And then you hear one of us -- I think it's Caleb -- talking in his sleep. Guess what he's saying? Those three fucking syllables. The magic word that got inside all our heads. And the way he says it. It almost reminds me of backwards speech (he'd later tell me he was having dreams of drowning). The shuffling resumes, the door closes, and it's back to silence until the tape runs out. So there it is. The one time I decide to go camping and it's a total clusterfuck of mystery and terror. Should've gone to Disneyland. *UPDATE: OK, sooo... this is kind of amazing. Good-amazing or bad-amazing, I'm not sure. (ever hear of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon?) Before I was prompted to write this whole account down, I tried doing some research to shed some light on Sarah's Disrowroth story. And came up with zilch. BUT, one of my contacts finally emailed me back with a hit! They found a relevant poem in a book of collected poetry called “Near and Dear, Far and Faceless: Favourite Verses.” The book has a copyright of 1956, published by Cresset Press. This could very well be the basis for Sarah's grandfather's story: Paean to the Star-Flung God From far He heard our prayer and came -- 'Twas sweet to ear; Our music, same. To ageless depths they sank, alight And stirred His dreams of Sothic nights. For long the blessings ceased to cease Till mem'ries crumbled piece by piece. Now mist at best to all but few, Our vigil lights the way anew. His tide shall taste the graven call And thirst for more ere back it fall. 'Neath crescent moon His mantle quakes -- Alas, again, what's dead awakes! Disroroth! Luna invictus! Luna invictus! Disroroth! Disroroth! Luna invictus! Luna invictus! Disroroth! Has anyone EVER heard of this name Disroroth before? Please let me know, something's come up and it's very important. Whoa, ghost town in here. If anyone's reading, I'm trying a more conversational tone for this one. Would also like to mention the name Disroroth was actually pulled straight from a dream. Does it have some as yet unrealized significance? Or is it dream-gibberish? Who knoooooows

Credit to: alapanamo

[isroselalondebisexual]

if you have the time/patience to look over these troll kids, i would be so happy! ^ㅂ^ john captor, rose zahhak, jade makara, and dave serket! if dave serket makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to analyze him! (i also apologize if my english seems awkward, not my first language! ^^;)

Your English is just fine honey!

John Captor, raised on the lower cusp of middle class but not quite there, with crazy psii powers and a lusus that loves him, but is also something of a giant (heheh) handful. John would probably try to raise bees, realize that’s a LOT OF WORK, and just buy mind honey to feed biclopsdad from then on. Someone else can raise bees and sell honey he’s perfectly content being a patron of someone else’s hard work. Probably tries to get into coding but, predictably, still sucks at it despite being a troll now, bc that was never really a “yellowblood” trait as much as it was a “Sollux” trait. John and Karkat (if he exists in these?) pretending to be competent coders at each other while both of them just suck, respectively, is a hilarious idea btw. Probably tries to run a trolltube channel where he does speedruns through various games, but it devolves into Mcelroy-esque nonsense where he godmods everything (look at him, being a CODER, he’s so HARDCORE with his CODING) and proceeds to do the DUMBEST shit. A real comedian, that fella. Has NO IDEA how to fix things, the most you can get out of him is an awkward joke with a pat on the back and more frequently he just shuts down emotionally and stares at things as they go wrong, but he IS a very good listener, he’ll make you feel comfortable and listened to, he naturally mimics the posture of the people who’re distressed (like in canon) but just because he’s very very empathetic doesn’t mean he has ANY idea how to go about helping with that aside from listening and offering his shoulder to cry on. As Heir of Doom, he and Mituna share a classpect, which means Bad End: he becomes doomed and gets fucked over BIG time, Good End: he comes to terms with himself and his own way of experiencing the world and interacting with others, and embraces himself fully, the good and the bad, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff.

Rose Zahhak, raised on the underside of RIDICULOUSLY WEALTHY, where propriety is stressed heavily and she can have anything she wants, so long as she bows down to those “above” her, and her lusus cares deeply about her, but also kinda lets her get away with most things. Also, she’s freaky mutant strong and has piss poor control over it. She’s gonna have the trademark Zahhak frustration-anger-breakshit-further frustration-more anger- break more shit-get even MORE frustrated- anger cycle. The idea that society will give her anything- not because she’s earned it or because she deserves it- but because she was born into it, would initially be appealing, but she would be expected to subject herself to the whims of those colder than her, and she would, well, absolutely fucking hate that. Tear it all down, tear down all society, it’s broken beyond fixing, nothing good can be tweaked or edited into existence, burn burn burn it all. As Seer of Void, she’d at first be amazed that she’s not a Rage player, that would make more SENSE that’s what she’s ABOUT, but slowly, slowly it would start to make sense. A Seer of Void is one who can see potential, someone who can see what would rise from those ashes, someone who can take her anger and guide the world into SOMETHING out of the nothingness that she sees everywhere he looks, the nothingness that consumes her, the lack of value placed on every troll, on her friends, the senselessness of her society that doesn’t make any kind of REASONABLE decisions. She craves order, something sensible, which she never finds in the society she was raised in so once it’s down, she’s the one that guides them into building anew.

Jade Makara, then, is the one to bring it down. Raised alone at the oceanside, without even the benefit of a dog or chessfolk to chat with, I can imagine her frustration and short fuse that we see in canon would get even worse, clinging to her friends as her one remaining scrap of sanity in a society that doesn’t make sense. Jade & Rose moirallegiance is… good… two girls complaining about society, how it sucks, even though they’re the people who are supposed to be BENEFITING from it it’s still BULLSHIT! Why are so many people okay with this! Jade and Rose bounce off each other, frustrated and also Jade would probably feel kinda guilty about it all. Why is she “higher” than anybody else? It wouldn’t sit well with her, but also she’s ONE PERSON and society is a LARGE AND COMPLEX THING. Rose’s talk of tearing it all down, just burning it all to the ground and starting anew would sound… pretty fucking nice, actually, but while Rose would be more wont to just bitch about it, Jade is more a woman of action, and she doesn’t have a centaurmom patting her back and telling her to chill, she doesn’t really have any mom at all, since seagoatmom seems to have better things to do than take care of her child. Jade would want to somehow destroy society without killing everybody- that would be cruel, but how else would they start anew? The Game settles this issue for her, (un)luckily. As Witch of Rage, hers is the task to take her anger, her frustration, the injustices she feels buried deep in her soul, and use those to incite CHANGE. Working together with Rose, Jade will be the force to tear it all down, and Rose shall pry a path of righteousness out from the darkness. Idk how Jade would interact with the cult, tbh, I feel like she might enjoy the juggalo stuff while she’s little, but eventually grow away from it when the violence and hemoclassim starts to sit ill with her. She likes the clowns and mirth part, less the messiahs and murder bits.

Dave Serket (I don’t mind, it’s just Vr*ska/Aran*a/M*ndfang that I get VERY UNCOMFORTABLE about) is raised on the high edge of the middle class, with a piece of shit lusus that makes him kill. Dave would, too, he’s a people-pleaser, and we know from canon that his guardian is someone he wants to please VERY badly. Spiderdad is nasty and awful and abusive and forces Dave- who does not like death or danger or hurting others at all- to do dangerous things and hurt and kill others. Puts forth a coolkid exterior, acts unbothered by the atrocities Spiderdad forces him to commit, acts tough and untouchable and aloof but in reality he craves validation, someone to listen to him. He wants, desires, craves intimacy, but the idea of opening up to another person causes visceral, abject horror within him at the very thought. As Knight of Light, his job is to protect luck and knowledge, which he thinks is a STUPID role, wtf. Probably fucks right off his planet and goes and chills with John for a while, and they both come to terms with themselves together, going through their personal journeys side by side. John would be critical in Dave’s journey, someone empathetic, someone who listens but offers no judgement, someone who believes Dave and doesn’t just go “We’re trolls what do you expect.” He lets Dave spill his guts to him over and over and over again, and Dave is almost ravenously protective of John, who he considers himself incredibly lucky to have in his life. Rose and Jade, too, Dave would give anything for, in part because his childhood has conditioned him “if you love someone, sacrifice for them” but also in part because he’s just a really loving dude and he’d do anything for his friends because he adores them. 

[acciosiruis-blog]

Trimberly one shot

Biology was almost over. And by almost, Trini meant, half an hour down, one more to go.

Even so, she was as nervous as never. She fiddled with her pen and actually focused on the teacher for once, trying to absorb as much information as possible. That was, of course, so she could keep her eyes off Kimberly Ann Hart.  

Kimberly Ann Hart. Her only girlfriend. As in a friend that was a girl. Her best friend. The best Trini could’ve ever asked for.

Trini clearly remembers the day she met her. Actually met her. Standing there, in her profound glory, with her short hair bobbing up and down, and smiled at her as if she was everything.

Trini has no choice but to stare for just a little longer.

___________________________________________________________________

Anna was the first girl Trini had ever loved. She was only 14. Trini could only tell her that if her parents found out how she looked at her, she’d be homeless. She had then cried for 2 days straight, and Trini starts playing back to those small moments. That the library would smell like their books, the way Anna would give her a special smile every time they looked at each other. A smile reserved just for her.

It had only been 2 months, and Trini’s heart had been broken into the smallest fragments possible.

Experiment. She hates that word.

If there’s one thing that Trini hates about being gay, it’s when people date her. In order to ‘experiment’ and to ‘try it out’. Because Trini despises being used, as a subject. When she pours her heart into loving this girl, and she ends up saying ‘I’m so sorry, I’m just not into girls…anymore.”

Trini knows that that’s bullshit. So she makes a vow on her seventeenth birthday, declaring to never fall for a straight girl ever.

___________________________________________________________________

That vow was broken in less than a week after she moved to Angel Grove.

It was after her small party hosted on the highest spot of Angel Grove with the gang. A beautiful sight. But really, nothing could ever be as beautiful as Kim.

The two of them were on Kim’s bed. Just there. Just existing. Together. Then out of nowhere, Kim started talking and snapped Trini out of her thoughts.

“To be honest, we’re literally floating on a tiny planet in fucking space, or universe, should I say. Why are we surrounded by hatred and misery? Why can’t everyone just calm the fuck down and lay on some grass. The sun is a GIANT BURNING ORB and why does money even exist? Fuck everything!”

Trini snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you speak my language princess?”

“I mean really! Gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining all kinds of shit.”

Trini didn’t say anything. She loved it when Kim would ramble out her thoughts to her, out of nowhere. Only to her. Like she was exceptional.

That was when it happened. Kim just suddenly rested her head on Trini’s shoulder and grumbled.

“Why the hell are you so short, Trin?”

Trini felt herself stiffen up. Kimberly obviously felt it and sat up straight away.

“Is something wrong?”

Trini loosened up immediately. “No. No, not at all. Just think we should get going now. It’s kinda late.”

Kim shrugged and stood up making her way to the door.

___________________________________________________________________

It was like electricity when Kim had rested her head on Trini’s shoulder.

And it hits her like a truck. She realized that she’s falling. A great void opens up and she feels that she is falling, falling into deep, black space. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or a human touch of a hand. Because Kimberly had the type of eyes that could hold the sun, the moon, and the stars. Her eyes held galaxies, universes, time itself. But most of all, in her eyes, if anyone looked hard enough, they could find Trini’s heart.

___________________________________________________________________

Trini now lets Kimberly in. She loves the way Kimberly’s eyes spark when they're talking or when she's telling her something she wants her to know, the way she mouths the words herself when she's reading and concentrating, the way she looks at her as if there's only her, as if she can pass the flesh and bone and bullshit right into Trini that's there, the one she don't even see herself.

And so she tries.

___________________________________________________________________

Biology’s finally over.

Everyone shuffles out the doorway and the 2 automatically walk side by side towards their normal spot.

“What’s after class?”

“English,” Trini replied while tapping her foot.

“Mhm. Can you get me lunch today? I wanna listen to some music. Thanks.”

Trini didn’t even bother to hesitate. The longer the drag, the better. She was nervous as ever.

She came back with Kim’s favorite’s classic ham and cheese and saw Jason beside Kim chatting away.  

A flash of jealousy passed her face but disappeared in godlike speed.

She sat down on the other side of Kim, and as if on cue, Jason stood up to get to Billy. Conveniently, Zack just had to be hiding behind a pillar right in front of them.

Kimberly muttered thanks, and Trini decided now would be it.

“Hey...uh so we've known each other for a while now and we’re pretty close and uh I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.” Trini rubbed the back of her neck with her right sweaty palm.

After a second of a felt like-late reply, Kimberly pulls out her earphones. “Did you say something?”

Goddamit.

Trini has no choice but to give a pained smile and say, “D-do you have a pencil I could borrow during English later? For uh doodling? You know how boring Mrs. Khader’s class can be right? Ahahaha…”

Kimberly gives out that smile and nods. “Sure.” Her mouth’s full of food, so it comes out like a “Shoore.”

Trini laughs and her boost of courage is gone, because Kim can make her melt just like that.

___________________________________________________________________

School’s over and she finds her phone exploding from Zack’s messages.

ZACK PAIN-IN-THE-ASS TAYLOR

*Media file*

ZACK PAIN-IN-THE-ASS TAYLOR

still keeping that pink pencil?

Trini almost has a heart attack. Zack had filmed the whole process of Trini’s failure to ask Kimberly out on a date.

Trini

Zack Taylor if u send that 2 any1 I will single handedly come up 2 ur house rn with no hesitation n grab for the nearest thing available 2 gouge ur eyeballs out n feed it 2 ur goldfish

ZACK PAIN-IN-THE-ASS TAYLOR

easy crazy girl just go ask again no biggie alright i’ve got a lotta blackmail material but tbh i nv use it so ur good to go

Trini

yea right

ZACK PAIN-IN-THE-ASS TAYLOR

no legit

___________________________________________________________________

And so she tries. Again.

She pulls Kimberly aside first thing in the morning.

“You alright?” The concern is immediately showing on Kimberly’s face.

Trini lets out a low laugh. “Yeah, I’ve just got something to ask you.”

Kimberly brightens up immediately. “Shoot.”

Trini takes in a deep breath and goes for it. “Uh...so we’re pretty close and uh I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.”

Kimberly doesn’t reply.

Trini starts to panic because she doesn’t know who to tell anymore when she finds new music and she doesn’t know where she’s gonna express how much she loves it. She doesn’t know who’s gonna agree with her and who she’s gonna listen to it with while she falls asleep. She doesn’t know who’s going to hear about her day and her test grades and how long she napped and what she ate for dinner and what movie she watched and the interesting things she learned in class and how much she hates physics and when she didn’t read the assignment for English. She doesn’t know who she’s gonna tell how she went to get food instead of jogging laps in the gym and how productive she was studying that night. She doesn’t know who’s going to listen to her sing her favorite bands and then sing with her and take walks with her in the summer on the most beautiful days. She doesn’t know who’s going to do that all and care about it if Kimberly finds her disgusting and sickening. She doesn’t know.

Trini’s not one to ramble but she does. “I mean I can completely understand and I respect your decision if you don’t want to be with me in that kinda way because you might even have something going on with Jace I just --”

“Yes.”

Trini stood there and her head shot up and looked at Kimberly. Kimberly’s brown hazel eyes shone. She was being sincere.

But Kimberly didn’t stop there. She smiled and leaned against the lockers. “Trini, I would love to go on a full on gay date with my best friend. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me in the public, put your arm around me so people know I’m with you. I’ve always wanted you to pull me in because I’m just not quite close enough to you. I’ve always wanted you to make me watch that one tv show that’s your guilty pleasure. Tell me your biggest fear and I’ll promise to protect you. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me at red lights because if you don’t then I’ll kiss you. I’ve always wanted you to show me the one song you can never listen to without crying. Trini, don’t hide the tiny details about you. Because I’ll remember every one of them.”

“You’re so cute when you ramble.” Trini clamps her hands over her mouth. “Holy shit. I did not just -- ok.”

The bell rings. First period is about to begin.

“Text me.” Kimberly winks, leaving a dazed Trini behind.

Smooth.

Her phone lights up as soon as Kim disappears round the corner.

Kim <3

rmb to call me babe in front of our waiter

Kim <3

btw u can keep the pencil :)