#like i obviously can’t tell right now what from the three routes of stay night DID happen

[xbuster]

The fact that Sakura still has to live with Shinji and Zouken is a damn crime

[bbina]

"took you guys long enough" sungchan comments, standing up from the hood of his car. he was waiting for a while at the convenience store you three always go to.

you let out a huff as you get out of the car. "tell that to this jackass over here who decided to take the longer route" you throw your thumb back at eunseok who was ranting about he didn't expect to run into a traffic jam caused by a car accident

shortly after arriving you three buy your usual stuff inside the convenience store before settling at the parking lot, just talking about sungchan's current dilemma

"she just suddenly broke it off with me today while on a date like?" sungchan starts, pausing to chew his ramen. you stare at him with wide eyes. so it is true, that he and yujin are now over. for good

"all i did was say hi to wonbin and y/n since we were in the same restaurant" sungchan continues, eyebrows beginning to furrow as he recalls what happened

eunseok lets out a chucke and pokes the side of your head, "so it's your fault why they broke up" he jokes

you felt yourself heat up. instantly, you smacked your older brother in the chest. eunseok makes an "oof" sound before choking on his food. sungchan panics and gives him his drink

"what the fuck, y/n?! take a joke!" eunseok manages to choke out

"you didn't cause the breakup, y/n" sungchan hurriedly says, afraid that you'd avoid him longer if you had the assumption that it was on you (when it kinda lowkey was because of you)

sungchan burps before continuing

"as i was saying, she always had a problem with y/n and i'm not really sure why? like obviously she's my best friend but she kept making weird assumptions between y/n and i"

your heart drops. did sungchan's girlfriend figure you out all along?

"why can't she understand that y/n is just a friend" eunseok scoffs, in disbelief that his girlfriend was that insecure of you, his sister

sungchan throws his hands up in the air to show his frustrations

"exactly! no matter how hard i reassure her that it's just platonic she just puts words into my mouth.." sungchan huffs. he suddenly turns to you with sad eyes

"i'm really sorry for what i said that night y/n. i didn't mean for it to sound like that. i just couldn't believe that you're with wonbin and you didn't tell me"

you held in your breath as you take in his apology. right, you were with wonbin. for a second there you forgot about your situation

"i can never stay mad at you forever, jinsu" you say with a small smile, leaning in for a hug. sungchan doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you. finally you have your best friend back

"hey! what about me!" eunseok complains as he engulfs you and sungchan into his embrace. you let out giggles as eunseok easily had you both in his arms. how you missed this, how you missed hanging out with the closest people around you.

between the lines ★ for my eyes only

⤷ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

 ˗ˏˋ prev | next  ˎˊ˗

★ notes .ᐟ double update like i said <3 anyway more drama 🤩

★ taglist .ᐟ @callanton @annswwa @renjuneoo @pinkraindropsfell @lecheugo @ilovejungwonandhaechan @ahnneyong @haechansbbg @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @odxrilove @leeknowarchives @onlywonb @wonychu @leehanascent @jaeyunsb @au-ghosttype @revehosh @keilovr @kyusqult @dreamyyyz @ether-yeol @yangasm @qwonbani @starwonb1n @ffixtionista @daegale @scrumptiousloser @seunghancore @marksluvs @wonbinfiles @ohmykwonsoonyoung @reenfluffmarshmallow @bunni @artstaeh @yizhoutv @sie17136 @koeuh @07yujin @poollabug

[zaceouiswriting]

The paradox of life

Characters: Clark Kent x male reader, Conner Kent and male reader

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: None

„We have a train if that train follows its normal route it will kill five people, but you are at the right place, at the right time, if you pull a lever the train will change its normal railroad and get onto one where it kills only one person. Are you using the lever or not?“

You sat expectantly in front of Conner, Clark's clone waiting on his answer or even better questions. But he only sat there stunned, confused about the whole principle of the question itself.

At this point, you were already used to it. His brain was still the same as a child's, but he also could understand hard-to-learn things, like mathematics.

Sadly for him, mathematics is less useful than a basic understanding of people and moral decisions. At the end of the day, it does not really have a morally right answer. But the important part is, what questions were asked to do an informed decision.

You were doing things like this, once in a while, sometimes multiple on one day.

But lately, you could feel him getting frustrated. Because he never does any of them right. Quick to decide the easiest option, without really thinking about the situation. If it was a timed question, then this would be perfect, but it is not.

To your utmost surprise, a while after Conner looked up from the chess game you were playing, looking at you with a questioning shine in his eyes.

„Do the five life, if I pull the lever or will-“ Before he could finish his question, the first he had ever asked by a moral question you tried with him, a loud ‚bang’ interrupted him.

„What is it doing here?“ Clark was obviously irate at Conner being in your shared home.

„I told you, that I will train him. He is a child Clark and now, please go.“ Your voice did not let any space for arguments, but the taller man did not leave. Instead, he stayed in the exact room, making Conner extremely nervous.

„Please go to your room Conner,“ you asked the boy in front of you as friendly as you could. He could hear the urgency in your voice and he walked around Clark, directly to his room, 

All the while you could feel Clark’s burning glare on you. „What is it, Clark?“

First name basis again? Clark already knew that he fucked up, as he heard that again. But he was too furious to think about it.

„What did you mean, with his room? Is he living here? He is a clone! You can’t be alone with him!“

You tried to keep your anger at bay. But you were shortly before snapping at him. „I know that your kind is icky with clones, I do not want to know what happened. But we humans, are fascinated with the idea. So please, stop being a damn asshole. He might be not your child, but he needs your guidance with his power, while I will make sure, that he in the future, only decide in favor of the greater good.“

Walking right past him, you laid your hand on his chest for just one second. „I remember the story your mother loves to tell, about her finding you, as a baby in this strange capsule. You were her saving grace because she could not have children on her own,“ you reminded him again. „Conner is my you. Even though he is not a baby, he is my child. You can see it as whatever you want, but if you ever call him an ‘It’ again, so god help me, I will pulverize your existence, Clark!“

Believing that you heard him swallowed hard, as you left him there in the room he refused to leave. Just for you to console Conner and say that you were proud of him.

Clark had slept on the couch that night, and the next morning, as you all woke up, food was already waiting, just like your morning coffee.

Anxiously waiting at the breakfast table was none other than Clark. At first, Conner did not want to get to the table, because he feared what Clark might do. But you pulled him with you anyway. Seeing three plates and an orange juice instead of coffee for Conner, almost made you laugh out loud.

For a while everything seemed happy family, that was until Clark let his fork settle down on his plate. „I have thought about the entire situation,“ he announced loudly. Which let Conner stop in his tracks, Fear visible on his face.

„I’m not comfortable to see him as a child, even less your or our child.“ A heavy pause settled in where nobody was doing or saying anything. „But I would try to see Conner as a little brother. Even though it will take a while, that way all of us can profit off of it.“

Immediately you grabbed Clark’s hand. The night you had slept afar from each other took its toll on both of you.

Conner was the only one who seemed surprised. „That is the thing I want you to learn. Clark did a morally hard decision. He had his own faith, the culture of his kind, but also my feelings, your feelings, and the culture of this planet to take in for this decision.“

He still seemed confused, but also happy, that he finally had a real home. Not with two parents but one that loved him regardless and one, that he adored, but hoped he could love him one day too.

At least for the moment, there would be peace.

[Masterlist]

[sunnetrolls]

reunited

gdoc to spare you from my blog theme

characters: planhz; ardell & kyrian @aviantrolls word count: 1811

You knew already that this would be a very, very long few nights’ travel. 

You found her several cities away, after all, and you have little access to any form of more expeditious transport than on foot. Even then, you’d much prefer to ferry your unexpected companion this way than on any sort of public transportation--she’d been awfully scrambled since you’d found her, and plenty before then too, so it seems.

Regardless, it was good to catch up. You obviously had very many questions for her-- where had she been? What had she been doing? How had she survived the catastrophic building collapse that should have by all means taken her life a few centuries prior? You didn’t ask them all at once, of course. Usually, when the two of you stopped to rest at sunrise, you would ask one of your many questions. 

“... Kyrian?”

You finally break the silence. It was a comfortable one between the two of you, gratefully, despite the many sweeps you’d spent apart. Kyrian then turns her eyes to you, humming softly in response. She tucks her bangs behind her ear, then shifts more onto her left foot, closer to you.

“… I know everything has been… Awfully… fuzzy for you for a while now. But what is the earliest thing you can recall?”

“Not much.” She responds in a whisper, gaze turning away from you and instead to the brightening sky, “Not much at all. I remember it hurting a lot, as I dragged myself out of those ruins, but I didn’t recall what had happened, apart from something had exploded. The air was pungent, thick with the smell of gunpowder. I remember that.”

“I still… don’t really remember everything. I know I was with.. some group. We were there for a reason. That what happened to me was just bad luck. Wasn’t meant to happen. I wouldn’t be with people who didn’t have my best at heart, or who aimed to hurt me.” She shrugs and pulls her cloak a little tighter over her shoulders.

“I remember my earlier sweeps, at least the important parts, but I feel like that isn’t what you want to hear I remember.”

“No, no…! That’s wonderful. Perfect. If you hadn’t, we would be…” You trail off for a moment, unsure, “If you hadn’t… I don’t know what I would tell Ardell. I ought to have told you sooner, but… I was mulling over the best way to ask if you remembered him.”

You glance away from her as well in a halfhearted attempt to hide your sigh of relief. It was a decision you’d stalled through the whole night on for both of you, really, since you had not a clue what you’d have done with her or yourself if the chance of bringing back the relationship the three of you had shared was snatched away from you just as suddenly as it had been offered.

“I..” Kyrian hesitates, her face screwing up in a mixture of confusion and.. pain? She chews on her lip, worrying at it like you remember her doing when she was lost deep in thought. This makes your heart skip a beat for a moment-- oh dear, did she not remember Ardell?

“My matesprit. My eternal love. The… the name is familiar. The idea is! But… I… I can’t quite remember his face or voice. But he’s just…” She reaches out in front of herself, almost like there’s something tangible just an arm’s length away, “… Right there. Out of reach.”

Ah. Crisis averted. She does remember her husband. You turn back to her with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry on it. You’ll see him soon, it will fall into place. If you recognized me, you’ll know him in an instant.”

The day and another night passes. You think back fondly on your younger days spent traveling with Kyrian just like this, accompanying her on incredibly similar trips to ensure she made it safely through the more dangerous routes. She would leave you in whatever city she arrived at until she located her recipient, then find you again and bring you back home. This time, however, you were the guide, and her the follower, and you were much more vigilant to ensure she stayed by your side than you’d ever been in the past.

You’ve always had a certain way with parting crowds, at least. Something about the way you walk, perhaps, or maybe it’s thanks to the fact that a glance at your face leaves most trolls too perplexed to do much more than stumble out of your way. It helps as well that you’re big enough to frighten the rest with stature alone.

When sunrise comes again, you stop in a small public park. This would do well enough, you thought; no comforting campfire, but somewhat safer than a more open space. On the brighter side, the two of you are in a more upbeat mood than the morning before, thanks to another night of you both relearning the feeling of the other’s presence. You speak up again once the two of you are settled.

“Kyrian? I have another question.”

She looks to you, smiling with her fangs peeking over her lips. Oh, how familiar that smile is.

“Yes, Planhz? I think I can handle some of those questions I see stirring behind your eyes.”

You smile in response, pausing with a soft chuckle before positing your question.

“We’ll see. Mm… How have you been faring since the, ah… Incident? Have you kept yourself busy in the meanwhile? Or, rather… How have you been getting along, so to speak, since then?”

“Oh… the usual, I suppose.” Kyrian laughs, eyes closing as she does.

“Just like we’ve been doing the past few days, just…” Kyrian turns to you, punches your shoulder softly, “without my guard dog.”

She then pauses for another short moment.

“Been delivering things. Guess I fell back into old habits.”

“How… On Alternia did you pull that off without me knowing?” You’re genuinely amazed-- you’d stayed fairly close to several of her former colleagues for quite a while after her supposed passing. It’s a marvel that you never as much as caught word of her reappearance, truly!

“It’s been much too long, then. I should have stumbled upon you sooner.”

“I suppose so. Maybe that old sniffer of yours is going out.” She laughs again, “I blend into crowds. Got a lot of tricks up my sleeves. Guess I never will forget those.”

“I suppose.” You huff softly and sit back against the trunk of a tree.

Another two days and a night pass the same. Thankfully, your journey is coming to an end-- you love to travel, yes, but rest is a wonderful thing just the same. You’re apprehensive for your eventual meeting with Ardell, even though you know he’ll be nothing but overjoyed to be reunited with his beloved-- he’s just not the same man he used to be, after all. But you’ll find out soon enough.

You keep a firm hold on Kyrian’s hand as you navigate through the winding rural roads. At least Ardell lived fairly close to the city your sons lived in, so the trip back home wouldn’t be too arduous. For now, your focus was kept on remembering which somewhat foreboding extended driveway would take you to his secluded seaside hive. You eventually found it without too much difficulty.

“Here we are.” You sigh softly and look to Kyrian stood by your side as you walk up to the doorstep. She was quiet, oddly still even as you look over. There’s something about the way she’s standing, you think; she looks like she might just run right in, but she holds herself stock-still instead.

“… Home.” She whispers, then she’s reaching right for where Ardell would always hide the key. You softly pull her back.

“No need. He’s always home.” You reach forward and knock on the door. A couple long moments pass, until you finally hear the shuffling of footsteps and see the door slowly open, the man behind it quite hesitant to see who’s on the other side. He slowly pulls the door open proper, but the image before him takes a long few moments to connect in his head.

“Dell? Goodness, you look like you’re about to faint.” You wouldn’t really be surprised. Kyrian is supposed to be long dead, after all. His violet gaze quickly flicks from you to your companion at your side, and his fins flare out in surprise the moment their eyes meet. He just pauses, doesn’t blink, or even breathe-- and Kyrian is the same. They’re both studying the other like they aren’t real, like two startled cats not expecting to encounter one another.

“…this isn’t any of your magic, Planhz?” Ardell croaks, and he reaches out to delicately hold Kyrian’s cheek, thumb just barely brushing over the wisp of hair over her ear. Kyrian is quick to lean into the movement. Muscle memory-- he always did this to tilt her head up to look at him before, always with that same loving gentleness.

“Kyrie-“ He croaks again, then looks to you, “I am,” He finally whispers in reply. Then, somewhat unexpectedly, he draws you in as well. He holds you both close, maybe to use you as supports, maybe not. You stiffen when pulled, biting back a soft hiss of pain from the sudden movement stretching the multitude of scars across your midsection. He never remembered to be gentle with you after your curse started getting this bad, but you’d never dream of holding it against him anyways.

“Dellie.” You mutter, but your tone is firm. He quickly lets you go, remembering that you’re not as sturdy as you used to be.

“You’ve still got a living room, yes? We ought to use it instead of lingering in the doorway.” You smile to him, quickly making it plenty apparent you’re not upset with him for aggravating your scars. You couldn’t ever bring yourself to be mad at him for much of anything, really.

“Oh.” Ardell looked almost like he’d forgotten they were still in the doorway, that his love was back with him, and that all three of you were together again.

“Yes.. yes. Come in.” He reaches for your hand to give it a soft, apologetic squeeze before bringing you both in to settle down.

You don’t expect to stay here particularly long, but you suppose one night couldn’t hurt. You’re sure that either way both Ardell and Kyrian would be downright insulted to hear you trying to make your leave so soon, so you skip the trouble of asking altogether. It’s been quite a while since you’ve seen him too, after all.

The moment Ardell sits down beside Kyrian and across from you, it really does feel like you’ve just been welcomed home.

[elareine]

Tim realizing that since Jason has been in the pit, Jason is always cold. He cant get warm. Tim throws himself into working this out, there has to be something to warm Jason.

Hi, anon, thank you for your patience. I… took the sappy route with this. Since this got longer than 1k, I posted it on ao3, too.  

Attempt One

“How’re you doing?” 

Tim eyes the bundle in front of him critically. Jason dropped by his safe house thirty minutes ago, teeth chattering after an encounter with Mr. Freeze, and he only looked marginally better. The chattering stopped; that can be a good sign or a very bad one. 

Jason gives him a weak grin. “Alright. No danger of turning into an icicle any time soon.” 

Hmm. Tim will see that for himself. 

When he moves, Jason lifts a hand in protest. “Hey, no—“ 

Tim completely ignores Jason’s protests—he’d feel worse about it if it wasn’t the only way to handle injured Bats—and sticks his hand between the isolation blanket and Jason’s neck… just to flinch back. “Holy shit!” 

“Nah, it’s—“

“It’s hypothermia, is what it is!” Whatever bullshit is coming out of Jason’s mouth, Tim is not listening. “You’re going into shock! We gotta get some extra heat in here, or maybe actually call the hospital; I’m not equipped for this—“ 

Jason’s hand closes over his mouth. Tim gives him a second to remove it, then he licks it. 

Jason just grins. “As I was trying to say: It’s always like that. My body temperature never went back to normal after daying.” 

“Nnr?” 

“Never.” Jason shrugs. He looks completely unbothered in a way that leaves Tim incensed. That’s just stupid. Did Jason just accept the fact that he’s in constant discomfort as if that’s not a thing there should be—should be—multiple solutions to, what the fuck. Tim is gonna fix this, so God help him. 

Tim is so busy coming up with 315 possible solutions that he even forgets to bite Jason’s hand for a moment. 

(Only a moment, though. “Ouch!”)

Attempt Two

“I’m not sure how you think piling more blankets on me will help me raise my core temperature.” 

“Of course it’s not.” 

Jason raises an eyebrow at the three blankets currently on top of him. “Right. Silly of me.” 

Tim rolls his eyes. Men. So ungrateful. “Your core temperature is obviously affected. That’s why I brought heating blankets.” Many, many heating blankets. Jason ends up looking somewhat like a disgruntled duck by the end. Tim has pictures to prove it. 

Thirty minutes later, Tim takes Jason’s temperature. Still way, way too low for a human. He sighs. That would’ve been too easy, huh. 

“You know,” Jason waggles his eyebrows, “there’s a rather more traditional way of warming up under the blanket.” 

Tim swats his head. “Keep it in your pants.” 

“Even if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to tell under all these blankets,” Jason tells him mournfully. 

Tim decides that retreat is the better part of valor. For today. Just until he can stop imagining what Jason could do to… warm up.

Attempt Three

“A hot bath.” 

“A hot bath.” 

“…you think I haven’t tried that?” 

No. No, actually Tim doesn’t, and his expression must adequately convey that cause Jason throws his hands up. “Okay, no, I haven’t, not really. My place isn’t that fancy.” 

“It certainly doesn’t have this tub. Now shoo, get out of these clothes.” 

“Why, darlin’, you only ever had to ask.” Without ceremony, Jason pulls off his shirt, then begins working on his belt. “Alright, tell me: What makes this tub special?” 

“From observation, I conclude that your resistance to high temperatures has also increased,” Tim begins in an excellent mad scientist voice, just to drop it right after. “Or you wouldn’t be able to wear that fucking jacket in summer. So I engineered a tub that will slowly heat up to a temperature just above 50 degrees Celsius.” 

“I sure hope so,” Jason grumbles as he climbs in, unabashed in his nudity, “cause right now it’s really fucking cold, babybird.” 

Funny cause Tim thinks it’s definitely getting hot in here. 

Hoping his face doesn’t heat up—haha—, he looks down at his phone and activates the heat settings on the tub. “At least,” he says thoughtfully, “we don’t have to worry about accidentally causing a heart infarct or anything like with normal freezing victims. I think.” 

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“We’ll take it slow, anyway.” 

Almost two hours later, Jason’s skin is red and wrinkled and covered in glitter from Tim’s bath bomb. He’s still cold to the touch. 

Attempt Four

“Tea? Really?” 

“You like tea.” Jason has been hanging around Tim’s place often enough that the younger man knows. (If there’s a corner of the top shelf just dedicated to Jason’s favorite blends, well, they don’t talk about it.) “And anyway, this tea is special.” 

Jason put down the cup. “Tim.” 

“Yes?” 

“Tell me you didn’t get this from Ivy.” 

“I didn’t get this from Ivy,” Tim recites just a little too dutifully. Truthfully, he hasn’t—it’s of his own creation in the lab—but seeing Jason squirm is just too funny. 

“The things I do for you, babybird,” Jason sighs and exes about half of it. When nothing obviously terrible happens, he drinks the rest in small, careful sips. 

“Nothing?” 

“A hint of chamomile—I get that one, soothing—and… bergamot?” 

“Yeah, that’s your favorite, right?” Tim’s taking down notes and is only half-listening. “How do you feel? Any warmer?” 

When Jason doesn’t reply right away, Tim does look up. “Jay?” 

The older man has a slight smile on his face. “A little warmer, yes.” 

Tim brightens and jumps up. Jason lets him stick the thermometer under his tongue without any objection. Tim is a little disheartened when it climbs up to 33°C and stays there, again, though he tries to stay focused on the positives: “I guess it’s a start, though. After all, the perception of warmth is just as or more important than the objective temperature.” 

“Uhuh.” 

“Also, you didn’t turn green, so that’s good.” 

“Tim!” 

Attempt Five

“Okay, if this doesn’t work, I don’t even know anymore.” 

“Please tell me you’re not hooking me up to electrodes.” 

“Sorry, that’s too dumb a lie even for me.” Tim is about to demand that Jason takes his shirt off again—an unfortunate side effect of this type of experiment, really, how terrible that he has to ogle those pecs and abs again—when he pauses. “Wait. Is that… a bad thing?” 

Which is terrible phrasing for Is this something that was used to torture you? but Jason seems to get it cause he shakes his head. “Nah, just didn’t know you’re into that.” 

“I’m not!” Tim isn’t. 

…at least, he doesn’t think he is? There’s certainly something to be said about the inherent homoeroticism of applying gel to another man’s skin and attaching electrodes. He’s so caught up in the entire thing—and the way Jason’s muscles jump and twitch when Tim applies his own brand of stimulant ray to them—that he doesn’t notice how quiet Jason is, too. 

However, in the end, the thermometer still reads 33°C. 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters. “I really thought I had it.” 

“Guess I can put my shirt back on.” Jason makes no move to do so. 

“Yeah.” Tim is looking at his notes again, trying to figure out where he went wrong. His joking words at the beginning aside, there are still options, avenues for him to pursue. It’s just that these are the most promising ones, and Tim can’t bear the thought of failure. The idea that Jason will just—will just have to live like this, forever cold and disconnected—

He lifts his face when he hears Jason putting his shoes and jacket on. “You don’t have to leave. I can still—“ 

“Nah, it’s fine. There’re only so many sex jokes I can make before even I can take the hint,” Jason sighs. “Thanks, though, Tim. I really appreciate the effort.” He turns toward the window. 

It takes 4.7 seconds for Tim’s brain to catch up with that, and then another 2.4 for it to convince his body to move. 

“Jay! Wait!” 

The Solution

The afternoon sun throws golden rays into their bedroom. Tim can feel her rays tickle his face, his eyes, so he turns further into the embrace that’s been offered to him all night. Jason doesn’t wake up, just snuffles out a slight snore and pulls Tim half on top of him as if his boyfriend is some sort of overgrown teddy bear. 

Tim snuggles into the crook of Jason’s neck contently. In his opinion, there’s no better place to be: His lover underneath him, chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, warm and alive and here for Tim… 

Wait. 

Warm. Jason’s warm. 

Tim scrambles up and frantically reaches for his bedside, where the damned thermometer has a place of pride after the last time he got sick, and Jason returned the favor by taking his temperature every five minutes. 

“Babybird…?” Jason’s voice is rough with sleep. Tim feels a little bad about waking him up, but: !!!! 

The thermometer climbs. And climbs. When it stops, it reads 36°C degrees. 

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Tim whispers, awed. 

“Nope,” Jason agrees amiably. “You’ll figure it out, though. Can I have some more snuggles first?” 

On the one hand, Tim is dying to look this up in the literature and maybe talk to someone who knows Lazarus Pits better. This doesn’t make sense scientifically, so there has to be some magic involved, right? Perhaps the pits are more into metaphors than they thought, or—there are so many possibilities, and Tim can’t wait to explore them. 

On the other hand… Jason’s looking soft and warm, opening his arms for Tim, and he’s smiling. It’s no contest, really. 

Tim presses a kiss to Jason’s cheek and sinks back into his embrace, scientific pursuits forgotten. 

[rayshippouuchiha]

Shifty eyes. Here, Ray some more musing on “In Another Life”. Borrow, break, use as you please. (Yes your flailing made me scribble some. Sorry not sorry.)

It’s hard to build a mask back up to withstand his mother’s worry. To behave in ways similar to what he used to be decades ago, so he can carefully shift the mask back towards what he actually is.

(It’s so strange having a mother, going to middle school, the bullies that his mind picks apart like puzzles and could break so easily with a few words, he has to fight the urge to laugh and occasionally the urge to break their bones.)

He’s alone, he’s under armed, and his arms are noodles. The paranoia is softly whispering implications in his head, fanning the dark side of his observations higher, as he scours the internet ever deeper and darker for the history in the Underground for the past thirty years. There’s no mention of him anywhere, his ID number belongs to another (obviously so, he never reached anywhere near being two meters tall) and he’s relieved and horrified. Relieved because there aren’t two of him running around, horrified because he can’t figure out what that quirk did to people, did to him.

(He has too many memories and lingering reflexes for it not to be real somehow. Some of the people based information he knows is slightly off, but the training knowledge he has is accurate.)

Dagoba’s illegal dumping site of a beach seems to be a sad constant. Except worse now than thirty years ago. It’s impressive, in a how the hell did it get this bad and be ignored that long sense. He has a slowly increasing knife collection now though and improvised weights through cleaning; making the paranoia quiet down to whispers and giving him something to do when recollections give him insomnia.

He considers checking on what his friends and peers are doing now, how they’re doing, but there’s a thirty year age gap between them now. It’s too strange. He can’t.

(He looks one night at three in the morning, insomnia kicking his ass. He regrets it. Most are either retired or dead. Some, some never became heroes at all having willingly left the program to be regular students without his encouragement to keep pressing on.)

He watches the grainy footage of Eraserhead he found while building an internet history denoting in fighting and free running with awe. He has very nice form. And despairs because Aizawa-kohai is far too young for him, but his fighting form’s grace and ease of movement across difficult terrain means he likely is enormously strong and that’s attractive as hell. His capture record speaks for itself as to his competence level. (No he shouldn’t be in those databases, but shush.) He can daydream right? He’s a professional it won’t affect his work...

It hits Izuku like a brick that by appearances and the laws of the land that technically he’s the one who is too young for Aizawa. He contemplates his blank ceiling with a frown for a couple minutes after that realization hits. He’s... not sure how he feels about that. Beyond hysterical laughter, but that’s a reaction he’s smothering for a lot of unspoken reasons thank you very much. (Including his reflection. It’s getting a little better with every pound of muscle he puts on, but seeing his face free of lines and his hair having no white at all is so odd.)

(He contemplated how easy it would be to destroy Bakugou’s so called Heroic Career potential last week after a shoulder check and a dismissive snarl of Useless Deku always in the way, stay in the dark corners your betters leave you in. It would be so easy; a pair of broken wrists or too many breaks inflicted on the metacarpal bones, goading into illegal destructive quirk usage in public through innocent sounding yet vicious goading, or force him to self-destruct on UA testing grounds (there are things that make Nedzu instantly disqualify someone from getting into the heroics courses). He has so many options, yet can’t quite bring himself to care over his destructive tendencies much. It’s just a thought exercise he tells himself; he’s pretty sure he’s lying.)

The UA exam is in a week and the beach is now approaching how it was thirty years ago. Disgusting with trash, but there’s no longer mountainous piles upon piles of it. There’s large clearings of sand in-between the much smaller piles of junk now. Izuku’s still not quite sure what to make of his own plans, still a little stunned even after nearly seven months of being “back”. He’s redoing High School, home of hormonal teenagers and their chaos, he’s obviously carried back some of the concussion damage he’s accumulated. He’s mentally old enough to be his soon to be classmates’ parents. Why is he subjecting himself to this nonsense? Oh right, because the Heroics commission is a bag of bastards who’ve make it harder to go through the apprenticeship or independent route unless you have a powerful sponsor, something he definitely doesn’t have. He’s as ready as he can be for an exam that, if this Nedzu is like his Nedzu, has robots in some purpose. The white mammal always did like their machinery and surprises. He’ll have to be ready for anything from rescue simulations, combat, to following the drone. Or if Nedzu had a disappointing last crop of students perhaps all of the above plus a bit more. It’ll be interesting at least.

His self made fact confirming mission of the past thirty years at least made the written exam portion easier. He knows possibly a little too much actually, but at least he won’t fail out. Which is nice. It’s the practical that was a little more difficult than he was expecting it to be. Izuku spotted the hidden conditions sure, but the robots are difficult to take down even with clever tactics. Did last years students coast through or commit willing ignorance and there’s a perceived lack of BFG potential in that grouping? Or is it just the sacrificial one in seven poster year that lets Nedzu pick his preferred qualities the other six years and this showcases the heroics features the Commission wants? He’s not sure. He did pass though. He has the proof in the little turned off hologram disk in the palm of his hand. Eighth. He’s in. He the Quirkless wonder is in 1-A. Ha. Ha. Ha. Choke on it bastards who said he’d never amount to much, he’s gotten into UA twice.

He’s not sure how to rank his first day. On the one hand he has to interact with Bakugou and All Might on a regular basis, on a second hand most of his classmates are sweet kids, and on the third hand Aizawa-kohai is his sensei now. (He’s got to stop thinking about him that way, otherwise it’ll slip and that will result in so much investigation and scrutiny and lack of privacy that it’s easier to dump the habit.) At least it looks like this year will be interesting.

Look no, look, I need this. I want this. I love this. It’s magnificent and I love it.

[countessmorgasson]

Sometimes Dreams have Teeth

Dark and then fluffy Asra x MC fic! Asra comforts MC after a nightmare shakes them to their core.

Gender Neutral MC

(Disclaimer: Based on Asra’s route, minor spoilers. Also... is this dark? No it’s not. Yes it is. No? Yes. I can’t tell.)

Nightmares were so common for you, you couldn’t really tell the difference between a comfortable night’s rest and a heart-stopping terror. 

As far as you can remember, it’s just how you’ve been.

For the first three years of your life, you feared the world. When you came back, friendly faces weren’t the only thing wiped from your memory. You didn’t know that fire could burn- or that a cut would bleed. Even the sound of a storm was so strange to your ears, and anything outside the shop felt like a very real threat.  The world was big and dangerous, and you were a clean slate.

Of course you never slept well. Even to this day, after all you’ve seen and learned... there were times when a dream could warp itself into your personal hell.

The good news is that spoiled dreams never lasted long- Asra was always at your side, gently coaxing you awake and doing anything and everything he could to ease your discomfort. You’d wake up either in tears or with your heart pounding so quickly against your chest you’d think it would burst. And then a pair of warm, slightly-calloused hands would run their fingers through your hair. 

He’d sit you up. Silently if you were crying, so that you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the change of pace.  If you were shaking, he’d make sure to bring the covers up with you. And of course, if things were really bad he’d brew a pot of tea, no matter the time of day or night.

Asra knew you so well, and comforting you was practically routine.

And as you’ve grown into yourself, your subconscious would find new things to pick at your brain, twisted and dark enough to send chills down your spine while your lover slept by your side.

But tonight was different.

Something about this dream separated you from your body. You’re tossing and turning in a frantic sleep, desperate to break through to the surface and wake yourself up.

You’re split in two, your mind cascades through the dark while your body thrashes about, and you can’t seem to piece yourself back together.

The worst part is that you can feel it. 

This time you know you’re dreaming and you’re stuck. Where have you felt this feeling before? It’s almost as if... As if you were falling between realms.  But how could that be? You’re asleep- and that sort of travel requires intention, a conscious mind.

And yet here you are, catapulting into terror without an escape. You’re wailing into the darkness, but the screams stick to the back of your throat and no one can hear you.  Your limbs tangle against the sheets, but you haven’t moved an inch.

Sometimes dreams have teeth. They sink into you, dragging you further and further down into your own head because you just can’t wake up.

-

You might not have if Asra hadn’t intervened. 

The darkness fades as you’re ripped away from your sleep.

The change of pace is quick- it takes a second to process your surroundings.

You’re hyperventilating.

Asra’s got his arms wrapped around you, tightly. He’s clutching onto your back as he rocks the two of you back and forth.

Something doesn’t feel right. Asra was more than used to your long nights, but this time he was obviously shaken up. 

He suddenly pulls you back, holding you by your shoulders.

“Oh- okay-! Hey... look at me, sweetheart. Just look at me, and... breathe. I’m right here... breathe...” His attempts to calm you down don’t seem to work for a while.

The world starts to come into sharper view, even in the middle of the night.  Asra’s hair falls in his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

For a second, you thought you had heard him sobbing, but he soon lets go and wipes at your eyes.

Sometimes you see a mirror in him- it’s in the way he looks at you, the curve of his lips when he’s worried and how his brows scrunch together while he thinks. You two may not look identical, but you often see your face in his.

“M/c.” Asra’s shaken voice is a breath of fresh air, and you start to actually feel your body. 

You feel it all, and you dive right back into his arms before frustrated tears burn in your eyes.

He just rubs your back, almost mindlessly. For some reason he’s comforting you, but he’s not. It’s not the same- he’s as scared as you are.

“M/c,” he starts again. “You were screaming.”

You were screaming in the dream, weren’t you?

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t get you to wake up. I tried shaking you, calling out to you... everything.” Asra stumbles over his words. “It was like you were in a trance.”

It takes a minute, but you manage to explain to him what it felt like- how dangerously close it was to traveling between realms. At this point the memories of the dream itself seem to slither away, but the fear is still there. 

It only makes him hold on tighter.  There was something desperate about his touch, like he feared that you’d slip away from him if he wasn’t careful.

He thinks for a long moment, and then he takes your hands.

“Let me cast a protection spell,” he offers. “All you need to do is breathe. Can you do that for me right now?”

Your breaths are shaky, but you manage to close your eyes and relax into it.

It’s eerily quiet the way you two sit. No covers brought over your head or offers of tea. Your eyes are still closed, but you feel your magic begin to blend with Asra’s.

A warm bubble of light settles over you like a blanket. 

You keep your eyes closed until you can convince yourself it was just another dream.

Asra’s patient. He doesn’t say a word because he knows when you’re not ready to speak. He always lets you sit with him as long as you need to, and he’ll just rub your back or run his fingers through your hair until you’re ready.

Eventually the goosebumps on your skin fade away.

“Are you okay now?” He asks. 

You offer a weak smile and a nod, and you’re met with another tight embrace.  Asra kisses your forehead and finally brings the covers over the two of you again when you lie back down.  You’re exhausted.

“Good,” he says aloud. “You’re okay.”

He takes over as the big spoon and gently pulls you against him before nuzzling your neck. You can still feel his heart beating a little erratically, but at least you’re both warm under the covers. You find his hand and squeeze it. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t go to sleep until you do,” Asra whispers. 

“I don’t know if I can fall asleep again...” 

Despite the skip in his heartbeat, you hear him force out a chuckle. When you turn to face him he cups your face and runs his thumb across your cheek. His violet eyes are illuminated by the moonlight that’s made it’s way through the window. He’s sleepy, you notice.

“I don’t mind staying awake with you.”

[where-dreamers-go]

I’d love a platonic Boba Fett x Mandalorian! reader where reader worked with the clones as a kid, so she got really good at telling them apart by the tiniest details! So when he meets her on a hunt or something she recognizes him immediately and they catch up over a meal. Then they maybe finish the hunt together or just just talk about fights they’ve been in? Thank you dear!!

“Reunion” Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

(A/N: Requested by the awesome @the-and-sign-anon.

Here’s some platonic Boba Fett fanfiction for yah! I feel like this has taken me a year to do, but it hasn’t, obviously. I just want it to be cool. I hope you like it! This is my first time writing for Boba Fett.

Aliit - family

Beskar’gam - armor

Buir - father

Vod - brother

Warnings: Canon violence (blasters). Death (no details).

Word Count: 1,445 words)

Late afternoon on an Outer Rim planet was not out of the norm for you. The system’s small sun casted long shadows behind the roughly structured buildings. A coolness crept into the air as evening grew near.

Perched atop of a well used cantina, you awaited a clearing near your intended location across the main square. You preferred less attention where you were going. The less people at small tucked-away building’s entrance the better.

It should not be much longer, you thought.

Earlier in the day, you had staked out the surroundings and where exactly you were to get the object. The bounty of the hunt. Was the objected named by the one who hired you? No, they had only told you who had it and where. Then added that it was valuable and quite decorative.

Helpful, you mused sarcastically.

Standing up, you decided that you would make it the right time to grab what you needed. The shortcut route would be best. Not the fastest way per se, but more your style. Rooftops were fine walkways in their own right. You were more interested in keeping the high ground. Only being in the area for less than twenty-four hours was a semi-followed rule of yours. Plus there were sightings of other bounty hunters.

It was prime opportunity to get the object of the bounty and leave. No more further delays.

Armor glinting in the sunlight, you kept your shadow hidden within the growing darkness cast by buildings and their antennae.

Three buildings and clothesline away from the unguarded door, you paused.

A bounty hunter.

You knew of course that there were others hired to grab the same object, however the one that caught you eye did not tickle your fancy nor did you care for their style. Too flashy with his large weaponry and inflated attitude. He was strutting a little too close to the door of your objective. Not to forget he was causing more trouble than needed. Pushing citizens around physically and verbally was unnecessary.

Can easily get passed him while he’s occupied. You thought, boot pointed in the direction of a small balcony below. Just—

Green paint grabbed your full attention. A very specific colored Beskar’gam in the next structure over. The sight of the colors and their arrangement lead you into a pursuit. The Mandalorian was steadily leaving a building. Closer. A small dent on his helmet.

You smiled, your thoughts on the bounty pushed aside.

Time to say ‘hello’, you thought as you leaped down into the dusty path.

A blaster was already lowering from its aim as you rose to your full height, meaning he recognized you.

The Mandalorian’s stance was slightly relaxed yet bent and ready to move. There were a few moments of long silence. Two Mandalorians watching one another.

“Are you just gonna stand there quietly?” A modulated male voice spoke from the green helmet. An accent in his voice pulled the air from your lungs. The familiarity striking and comforting.

“I wanted to give dramatic effect.” You said as you lifted one of your blaster pistols.

“Not sure your knees will approve.”

“Probably not.”

The grin you held disappeared as someone rounded the corner. A tall weapon in their hand. The bounty hunter you had spotted before. Not a well known one, you had not heard much of him. Only disliked any time you crossed paths, however briefly.

“Two Mandalorians? What…are you two after the bounty?” He laughed. “Why don’t you go shine your armor.” With loud steps, he walked closer. “Something you’re good at, right?”

That one’s unreasonable, you thought.

“If you’re after the bounty, why stop and chat?” You asked.

“What are you gonna do about it?” They clicked their tongue. “I’m going to get it anyway. Can’t have dusty troopers in my light.” A gloved finger edged to the trigger of his weapon as he continued forward. “Rona Olien. I’m that good.”

You and Boba turned your helmets to face one another. A silent conversation and decision transpired.

click

You charged forward in a crouch as the first round of blaster fire came from the bounty hunter’s modified weapon. The blasts stopped as the bounty hunter, Olien, staggered back as a blasterbolt hit them in the shoulder. Boba’s doing. Using the blunt end of your blaster pistol, you hit the side of the man’s head. The bounty hunter landed on the ground in a heap, groaning.

Walking up beside you, Boba kicked the large weapon out from Olien’s grip.

“If you’re going to shoot a Mandalorian, next time have better aim,” said Boba.

The two of you started walking away from the man. That was until a laser fire hit the wall of a building beside you.

In a flash of color, Boba had angled in a twist and had fired his blaster.

thump

“They were quite rude,” you said as Boba turned back to you.

“No honor.” Your brother lowered his weapon and walked with you to the destination.

It did not take long for the both of you to enter the building and find what you were after. A little digging and Boba had it in his grasp.

“A vase?” You tilted your helmet-protected head.

“An expensive vase.” Boba clarified. Rotating the piece, he examined it.

“Is it more or less than the job?”

“A bit more. Not by much.”

“Is it enough for you?”

His green and silver helmet turned in your direction. “It’s enough that we can split the difference for the job. And don’t tell me you don’t need it.”

You raised your hands in mock defense.

“Come on,” Boba turned on his heel. “They can wait one more day for their vase.”

His words surprised you. Yet you knew deep down that family meant a great deal more to him than a job.

You and your brother walked to a decent hotel and rented a room for the night; after grabbing some food of course. Neither of you wanted to part ways immediately. Besides, communicating via two separate ships was not an ideal way of spending time with family you had not seen in years.

Once in the quiet and privacy of the room, you relaxed. The food, vase, and weapons were put aside.

“It’s good to see you, vod.” You walked up to one another and inclined your helmets together.

“I’ve missed you.” Boba took a step back. “There’s a dent in your shoulder piece.”

“I know,” you groaned. “Too bad it wasn’t on my helmet then we’d match.”

“Hardly.”

You shook your head, smiling. There were more scuff marks on his armor than you remembered. Then again, so did yours. You had not seen one another in more than two years. Taking different opportunities tended to do that.

Living in an Empire was much different than whatever it really was when you were younger. You and Boba practically grew up together on Kamino. A rainy world where all you two saw was the insides of the cloning facility. The three of you, your shared father included, stayed there together. Jango Fett, your buir, had found you on a battle-worn world and brought you into the aliit, family, where Boba was your constant companion. A vod who was your only aliit after the battle on Geonosis.

Lives could always change so suddenly. Ones who lived together and depended on one another could find themselves on opposite ends of the galaxy.

Comfortable where you were, you started removing your armor and setting it down in your preferred arrangement. It was strange to have your helmet off while in the presence of another, however your vod was a major exception. The was a freedom to it all, the familiarity and the opportunity to just be yourself with on you trusted.

“That guy from earlier…,” you started as you yanked off your boots. “Have you seen him before?”

“Once or twice. He’s sloppy.”

“And had an ego the size of a rancor’s butt.”

He chuckled at your comment.

“Tomorrow,” you sat back in your seat, “I think you should give them the vase. Just in case they think of shortening you credits because I’m with you.”

“Changing subjects fast….They wouldn’t dare.”

“Just in case. Plus the whole bounty hunter image…”

He scoffed. “You’re my aliit.” Sighing, he nodded. “Fine.”

“Now that’s settled.” You grabbed the food and brought it closer. “Let’s eat.”

And eat, you did. Lounging about, the two of you talked and joked about the past. Catching up was half the fun. Making new memories was even better.

“I really have missed you, Boba.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

coffee

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Star Wars Tags: @darkenwolfy @sweetheartliz07 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[stxrrywildflower]

intern

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you intern for garcia at the bau

warnings - mentions of case

word count - ?

note - takes place during season 7 around 2011

you knew penelope from the minute you were born.

both of your parents were extremely close, living just a few short blocks away in san francisco. penelope was only 17 when you were born, you instantly becoming her new favorite person. her mom was even named as your godmother.

when penelope’s parents had died, yours had looked after her even though she did go underground as a hacker. despite how much penelope had changed, she was always there to check up on you and your parents.

and then she had gotten caught by the fbi of all people.

you were far to young to even comprehend what was happening. all you could remember was penelope hugging you tightly before she left. the two of you kept in contact by letters ever since that day.

now 17, you were an expert with computers. penelope was your guide, helping you learn to hack everything and anything as well as your way with all technology.

adding on to that, you were incredibly smart, taking all advanced placement courses at school. one of your classes was an internship, you had to find a local company to spend a certain number of hours a week in order to earn credit.

when penelope hears the news, mostly since she had access to your course schedule, she pulled a couple strings.

before you knew it, you were booked to have an internship with the behavioral analysis unit in washington d.c. under penelope garcia. aaron hotchner would be your ‘boss’ as he was the unit chief.

your parents were incredibly supportive, working out the details for you to stay with penelope for the semester and possibly part of the summer.

with multiple bags packed and a plane ticket booked, you were set to leave for washington d.c. in just a few short days.

____

arriving at quantico, you were more than nervous.

a car was arranged to pick you up from the airport, an agent named anderson picked you up to bring you to the bau. from there, you would be able to see penelope, meet with hotch, and get your proper paperwork and badge.

you could tell from the second you stepped in that your presence was out of place. a teenager was rarely in the bau, nonetheless one few people could connect to someone on the team.

“alright this is the floor you will be working on. garcia’s office is down the hall but through those doors over there is what we call the bullpen. that’s where the main teams desks are as well as where they do briefings,” anderson spoke, giving you a mini-tour.

“and the staring?” you asked. “that will stop soon. once they see you with agent hotchner they’ll back off. as much as i want to defend your case, i can’t say i wouldn’t act the same. this is the first teenager working at the fbi ever,” anderson informed you. “oh wow, didn’t know i was making history.”

“yeah you are, and I'm sure-” he was cut off.

“penny!” you exclaimed, rushing forward to hug the tech analyst, your luggage remaining behind you.

anderson smiled to himself, waving towards garcia before heading back to work.

“i’ve missed you so much sweetie,” penelope grinned, matching your enthusiasm. you hugged her for a little longer, overjoyed to see her after months.

morgan was next in the hallway, hugging you once penelope let go. “hey kid, how are you? school okay?” he questioned, ruffling your hair. “everything’s good derek, i’m just stoked to be here,” you grinned.

the rest of the team, to say the least, was extremely confused. there were a ton of questions running through their heads as the scene played out.

“maybe it’s morgan and garcia’s secret love child,” emily snickered, spencer and j.j. laughing too.

“i can take your bags down to my lair and we can bring them to my place after work,” penelope offered. “and i can take you in to meet hotch,” morgan piped in.

you kept your backpack with you, the three of you splitting up. morgan stayed by your side, guiding you into the bullpen.

the two of you couldn’t have been in the main roof for more than a few minutes before who you assumed was hotch was down to greet you.

“welcome y/n y/l/n, it’s nice to finally meet you,” hotch greeted, extending his hand for you to shake. you took it, nodding with a “nice to meet you too sir.”

“please, call me hotch. we can talk up in my office,” with one final smile towards morgan, you were following the into chief up for your meeting.

“so how do you know garcia?” hotch first asked.

“she’s pretty much my godmother, her mom was my official one before she passed. our parents were friends so i’ve known her for most of my life,” you explained, a smile on your face. “she taught me to hack when i was only 10.”

hotch nodded, “and you’re seventeen, correct? have you committed to any colleges?”

you shook your head no. “not yet sir. i’ve been accepted to a few but haven’t made any final decision. pennelope is pushing me to go to school around here though.”

“i’m sure wherever you go will be a good fit. but now, we have to get into some of the more official stuff. how are you managing school with this inteenship?”

“my teachers moved all of my classes online with virtual lessons and work. penelope and i have already worked out a schedule so i can focus on my work here and do schoolwork at night,” you explained.

hotch was obviously satisfied with his answer so he continued, “now with your internship, we don’t expect you to work cases with us right away. it is mostly just learning under garcia. once you feel comfortable enough and get a recommendation, you can move up.”

you nodded along, taking in the information about your job. “i can take you down to get your badge and then you can meet the team,” hotch offered. “sounds perfect.”

photos and paperwork didn’t take more than twenty minutes. you were back up, a crisp new badge clipped on your jacket, soon enough.

“my team,” hotch called. “conference room.”

with his usual ‘unit chief’ tone, no one bother to argue with him. adding on to your interaction with three out of seven members, changes were obviously happening.

you were seated on top of one of the file cabinets, morgan beside you and penelope next to him. your conversation died down once more people entered the room.

both you and morgan quickly got down, wanting to look at least a little bit professional.

“everyone, i would like you to meet our newest team member, y/n y/l/n. she’ll be interning under penelope and helping out on cases,” hotch inteoduced.

you waved to everyone, a slight smile forming on your face. “from left to right is reid, prentiss, rossi, and j.j. and your already know garcia and morgan,” hotch pointed out each individual member.

“wait i’m not following. you know morgan and garcia?” rossi asked.

“my parents knew penelope’s for a long time. i grew up with penelope pretty much as an older sister. and i know morgan since he’s visited home a few times,” you explained.

the team was already eager to get to know you, having a fresh face around, nonetheless one that was only 17, would definitely be nice. so, for your first day, you were pestered with questions. you already fit well with the team, a new member being added to their little family without problem.

____

your first week was pretty much just learning the basics of how the computers in garcia’s lair actually operated. you had your own little station in one of the corners, a few computers and monitors set up for you to work with.

two weeks in, you had your first real assignment.

it wasn’t by choice, you were supposed to start working with the gory stuff in two weeks, or a month of working there.

you absolutely loved the job with the team. oftentimes, you found yourself hanging out with either emily or j.j. for dinner and time with sergio and or henry. you went on morning runs with morgan, the two of you constantly sending each other new routes to run on. spencer helped you with your homework, planning a schedule for the idea work time like it was no issue. if you ever had a problem with school, he would always help you figure it out.

rossi found a new sense of joy in teaching you to cook. you grew up in san francisco, eating a lot of sea food and not much else. rossi changed that, making you various pasta dishes to try as well as the recipient. and hotch, hotch became an overall mentor and pretty much another dad to you. while spencer helped you with work, hotch would keep you in line with everything.

the latest case was pretty intensive on you and penelope. you did as much work as you could, you still weren’t officially clear to handle crime scene information just yet.

the one time penelope was out of her office getting coffee for the two of you, her office phone had started ringing. you quickly pushed away from your desk, your chair rolling across the floor until you were in front of hers.

“office of the most talented and magical members of the bau here. how may i help you?” you greeted. “man garcia is really rubbing off on you,” you chose to ignore that comment.

“speaking of garcia, where is she?”

you sighed, “getting coffee. what do you need?” hotch was quick to answer, “i need you too look up an unsub. name is roger clark.”

in lightning speed, you clicked away at the computer as you dug up information on the man.

“ah here his is. clark rogers was born to a frank and mary rogers. was a normal child, played sports and graduated with honors. did have a case of aggravated assault in college though he got off free since his dad was a lawyer. oh shoot, his mom died a few weeks ago,” you quickly explained.

something about a possible trigger as barely audible in the background of the call. “we need a location asap,” emily spoke.

“oh i’ve has the location sent from the minute you called,” you leaned back in your chair, most of your work already done.

hotch actually had one of his rare smiles on his face after that. “thanks so much,” he spoke. “stay safe,” you called before hanging up the call.

little did you know, your work was more than helpful. though it was minimal, small details you had provided actually proved to be useful in taking down the unsub. even penelope, who heard news of everything once she returned, was thoroughly impressed. it wasn’t super easy finding out that information as fast as you could.

all you knew is that you were guaranteed a job once you graduated.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @tinylumpiaa @sapphicspence @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @change-the-world-someday @ah-blossom @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @spenceneedsahug @jjandreidsgirl @zoseph @spencerreidxoxo @marvelxmendes @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @ssa-morgan @matthewgublerswife @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

[rowyn-writes]

Inner Demons (Jack Kline x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, violence, self-loathing, mentions of death, smidge of fluff, small spoilers for 13x23

Pairings: Jack Kline x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jack, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Mary, Bobby.

Word Count: 2k

AU: Soulmates

Summary: When Jack runs away after accidentally hurting you, you run after him.

Requested by: @ivyyie

You sat in the bunker, chatting happily with the survivors of apocalypse world. You loved meeting new people, and this was no exception.

You were 22, and had been hunting since you were little. Your parents had known Sam and Dean, two of the greatest hunters of all time. So when they passed away, the Winchester's swore to look after you. Although, you had said repeatedly that you didn't need their help. That was a lie, of course; you loved living with them. They were like the older brothers you never had.

Dean came up to you, a grim look on his face. "C'mon, kiddo. We need your help with something."

· · ·

You stood underneath Mary's umbrella as you looked at the dead body of Maggie. You felt your heart break at the sight. She had been an awfully sweet girl, and you knew that Jack had been close friends with her. You squeezed his hand gently, trying to give him a little bit of comfort.

"I - I-" Jack mumbled, shaking his head. I said I'd protect her, and, Sam. . ."

"Stop, Jack." Sam interjected. "This isn't your fault.'

"Sammy's right." You agreed gently. "There's no way you could have stopped this."

"What happened to her?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know." Mary said with furrowed eyebrows. "Doesn't look supernatural"

"Looks like some son of a bitch beat on her until. . ." Bobby broke off, not being able to finish his sentence. You looked away from Maggie, seeing her like this was too hard for you.

"Who would do something like this?" Castiel growled

On the way back to the bunker, Jack was silent. You could tell he was blaming himself for what happened to Maggie. He was so angry.

"Jack." You whispered. "You can't blame yourself. There's sick people out in the world that aim to hurt people. Not just monsters are capable of killing someone like that."

"I promised that I would protect her." Jack insisted. "I promised that I would protect all of them. That they wouldn't have to worry about Michael and his army. And they come back here just to be killed? How is that fair, Y/n?"

"I never said it was fair, Jack. Nothing's fair. Good people die all the time, and the worst ones stick around for the longest time. It's infuriating, but that's just how it is."

"But why? I don't understand. Bad people are supposed to be punished." Jack's voice shook in anger.

"I used to say that when I was younger. I would ask my mom why that would happen, and she would say, 'When you're picking a flower, do you pick the beautiful one, or the one that's wilted?' Of course I would say the beautiful one. And she would reply with, 'That's how God works. He picks to most beautiful ones for his garden.'"

"Your mother sounds like a good woman." Jack noted.

"Yeah, she was." You nodded. "We're going to find out who did this to Maggie and make sure she finds justice." You assured Jack.

You decided to help Sam, Dean, Castiel and Jack interview people who were close with Maggie.

"Word is, you're friends with Maggie." Dean inquired as he entered the library.

"Um, yeah, since we came over." The girl said. You didn't have a chance to speak with her prior to this, so you had no clue what her name was. "Me and her, we didn't have anybody else, so we kinda stuck together."

"So I'm sure you know she went out last night." Sam raised an eyebrow at the girl. She nodded. "Well, she didn't come home."

"Um. . . Is Maggie in trouble?"

You looked down at your hands, not sure how to tell her what happened. Although, Cas seemed to be prepared.

"She's dead." He spoke up, rather nonchalantly. You smacked your palm against your forehead. Castiel could be really insensitive at times.

"She. . . No, that's not. . ." The girl was obviously in shock. Her only friend was dead. "We were supposed to be safe here."

"We need to know where Maggie went," Sam pushed. "Who she was talking to."

The girl shook her head. "I don't. . . There was a boy."

"What boy?" Jack demanded, looking up.

"Nate." She informed him. "He works at that store out on Route 281. Maggie, she had a crush. That's why she snuck out last night. She was going to meet him."

"All right." Dean grumbled, running a hand over his face. "Well, let's go talk to this boy, Jack-"

You all turned to see that Jack was now gone. "Shit." You mumbled, grabbing your jacket and bolting out the door.

You knew how Jack could get when he was upset or when someone he cared about was hurt. It never ended well.

You, Cas, Sam and Dean hopped into the Impala, driving like mad to the store that Nate worked at.

You were worried, not only for Nate, but for Jack as well. If this kid didn't murder Maggie, and Jack hurt him, it would kill Jack. Hurting innocent people was one of Jack's worst fears.

You were the first one out of the car, bolting inside the store. To your horror, Jack was holding Nate against the wall by his throat.

"Jack!" You exclaimed, running up to him. "Jack! Stop!" You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to leave Nate alone.

Jack whipped around, his eyes glowing orange. The next thing you knew, you were sent flying back into a shelf.

You gave out a grown, holding your injured arm. "Y/n!" Dean called, running up to you. "Are you okay?" You nodded, very visibly in pain.

Jack continued his assault on Nate, refusing to let up.

"Jack?" Sam pleaded. "Let him go!"

"Alright," Dean muttered, pulling his gun out of his waistband. "Jack!" Three loud shots rang out, making you flinch. You slowly got to your feet with the help of Cas. The Nephilim dropped Nate and turned around, and as he did so,

Jack had a look of surprise on his face as he gazed at the four of you. "You. . . Shot me?"

"To get your attention!" Dean yelled. "You're acting like a psychopath!"

"Jack," You said, limping to him.

"He killed Maggie!" He growled.

"Maggie? Maggie's dead?" Nate whimpered.

"Jack, Nate didn't do it. Look at him." You whispered. "He's destroyed. He would have never hurt Maggie. Not in a million years."

"Y-you're hurt." Jack noted, looking at you. "I did that. I made you bleed."

"Jack, it's okay, you didn't kn-"

"I'm so sorry." He cried, running out the door.

"Jack!" Castiel called out.

Dean put a hand on his chest, stopping him from following after Jack. "No, hey, just – let him go."

"Yeah," You huffed. "Fat chance." You pushed past Dean and ran after the Nephilim.

You looked around, not seeing him anywhere. "C'mon, Jack." You mumbled. "Where are you?" You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You knew you could find him, you just had to use the bond that you shared.

You figured out a long time ago that Jack Kline was your soulmate. You felt what he was feeling, whether it be sad, happy, angry or confused. And all you could feel right now was self loathing. If you could just get a feel of where he is right now, then you would be able to find him.

There were trees surrounding him, and it all seemed oddly familiar. You knew the forests of Kansas like the back of your hand. You would often go exploring around there whenever you were bored and Sam and Dean were off on a hunt. You recognized the large oak tree that sat in the middle of a clearing. You knew exactly where Jack was.

You ran as fast as your hurt ankle would let you. It was probably just sprained, but it was going to hurt a hell of a lot worse when all of this was over.

As you approached the clearing, you could hear Jack talking to himself. He kept hitting his chest, as a way of hurting himself. Your heart broke as he continued talking.

"You keep hurting people!" He yelled. "You keep. . ." His voice cracked as he cried. "Hurting. . . Why do you keep hurting people?!"

"Jack?" You said timidly.

Jack turned around, clearly horrified to see that you followed him. "Y/n! D-don't come any closer. I don't want to hurt you!"

"You're not going to hurt me, Jack." You held your hands out, trying to show that you wouldn't harm him.

"I already have!" He pointed out, seeing your limp, your bruising wrist and your cut cheek. "I did that to you. You're in pain because of me."

"Jack, I'm a hunter. I've felt things ten times worse than this. I'm not in pain. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, you were just startled is all."

"But I almost killed Nate!" He yelled. "He was innocent. He never murdered Maggie and I almost -" He broke off into sobs. You came closer to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. He refused to look up. "I'm a monster. I'm just like him."

"Jack Kline." You said sternly, drawing his attention up to your face. "You are not a monster. Do you hear me?" He stayed silent. "And you aren't like Lucifer either."

"You don't know that." He whispered.

"Yes, I do. I've met Lucifer, and I've met you. Jack, you are the most compassionate person I know. You feel everyone's pain and you feel emotion on a completely different scale than other people. You brought those people from Apocalypse World here and gave them another chance. Lucifer wouldn't have done that. But you cared enough to do that." You cupped Jack's face in your hands. "You are good, Jack. Something that Lucifer's not. He will never have your compassion, and he will never know what it feels like to love and be loved."

You felt Jack's tears hit your fingers. You gently brushed them away. "It's okay." You assured him.

"But it's not." He insisted quietly. "I've hurt people, Y/n. People are dead because of me. What I've done is unforgivable."

"Jack, we've all made mistakes. And yes, some are worse than others, but we've all been where you are. Me, Sam, Dean, Cas, we all know what it's like. We are here for you, because we are your family."

"You haven't made a mistake where someone's gotten killed though." Jack took a hold of your hands and lowered them to your sides.

You swallowed hard. You had to tell him. That was the only way to get through to him. "Jack, when I was younger, I made a mistake. A mistake that got two people killed." Jack looked at you in surprised. "I was on a hunt with them, and I was supposed to be a lookout. I had been awake for days because I had been having nightmares and refused to sleep. So while I was supposed to warn them if I saw anything, I fell asleep and they were both killed by vampires." He stayed silent as you continued to talk. "They were my parents. I'm the reason they're dead." You were now crying. "We make mistakes Jack, and some of them get people killed. It's a fact of life and it's what happens when you're a hunter. I've made peace with my inner demons, and I can help you do that too. Just let me help, Jack."

"I'm sorry." Jack whimpered as you both continued to cry. "I'm so sorry."

You shook your head as you brought him in for a hug. "It's okay. It's all gonna be okay, I promise." You buried your head in his chest, breathing in his scent. "I love you."

Jack shifted slightly, making you look up at him. "You. . . Love me?" He questioned.

"Yes. I love you, Jack." You repeated yourself. "I love you like Dean loves Cas. I love you like you like Sam loved Eileen. I love you, Jack Kline."

Jack gave you a weak smile as he looked down at you. He hesitantly pressed his lips to yours, obviously unsure if what he was doing was right. Your mouth moved against his, your tears mingling together.

"I love you, Y/n Y/l/n." He mumbled against your mouth.

The two of you stood there, holding each other, completely content.

[phis-corner]

Could you do a 23 Jason x Marinette? I also want to say I really love your fanfics.

Ohhh yes one of my favorite ships to write (and hurt.) Enjoy!

23- “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

Of course, it’s just her luck that she stumbles across a Gotham vigilante bleeding to death from not one, not two, but three stab wounds in the alley across from the fabric store she’s headed to.

And obviously, she’s not about to let him die.

So she gets Trixx to cast an illusion so no passerby sees a five foot girl carrying a man who must weigh at least 230 pounds without breaking a sweat through a blue portal, then asks Kaalki to open a portal home.

Marinette scoops up the vigilante, a red bat splayed across grey kevlar and red helmet hiding his features, and enters her bathroom, setting the guy down in the bathtub (because she is not getting blood all over her apartment, okay?), grabbing her medical kit, setting up a blood transfusion because there was a lot of blood in that alleyway (this guy is so lucky she’s a universal donor) and getting to work disinfecting his wounds.

Just as she’s about to start stitching them up, the vigilante awakens.

Marinette would probably have been more impressed if the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”

She threads a needle. “Oh, you know, just preparing to sew up the three stab wounds in your torso that made you bleed half to death in an alleyway. Nothing major.”

The mystery guy (she’s already calling him Red Helmet in her head) hums, still only halfway conscious. “Sounds kinda major to me. Ya shouldn’t be sewing stab wounds.”

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t get stabbed.” Marinette retorts, tying the first laceration shut. “You didn’t seriously expect me to just let you die in the alleyway next to my favorite fabric store, did you?”

“This is Gotham, babe. Nobody even blinks an eye here.” Red Helmet mutters.

She doesn’t really know how to respond to that depressing statement. “That’s not right.” She finally says.

Red Helmet snorts, then winces. “Tell me ‘bout it.”

Marinette ties off the second wound. “So, do you have a name, Mr. Vigilante Person? Is it Red Helmet? Because that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

“What? No!” Apparently-Not-Red-Helmet protests. “It’s Red Hood! And I’m an antihero!”

She waves her non-dominant hand lazily. “Eh, technicalities. Besides, Red Hood is stupid. You don’t even wear a hood. I’m going to call you Red Helmet.”

“But it’s Red Hood!”

“I’m calling you Red Helmet and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it, monsieur.” She ties off the third stab wound and leans back, admiring her handiwork. “There. Now I just have to bandage them, and you’re free to leave after your blood transfusion finishes, which should be in another two and a half hours.”

“Two and a half hours?” Red Helmet yelps, twisting around and finally noticing the IV in his arm. “I can’t stay in a civilian apartment for two and a half hours!”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Will all due respect, Red Helmet, your average civilian doesn’t have the medical equipment necessary to set up a blood transfusion.”

“It’s Red Hood.” He barks. “And if you’re not a civilian, what are you?”

“Not a criminal, if that’s what you’re asking.” She grins. “You’re a Bat, aren’t you? Find out.”

Red Helmet leans back in her bathtub, grumbling. “How’d you even know my blood type, anyway?”

“I’m a universal donor.” Marinette tucks the last of her supplies back into her massive medkit and puts it back in her cabinet, stretching and feeling her spine crack. “Would you like something to occupy the next 150 minutes? A book, maybe? I have a large selection of classical literature.”

“Do you have Pride and Prejudice?” Red Helmet asks, somehow managing to look like a cute puppy even with the helmet on, and she smiles.

“Of course I do. I’m not a heathen.” Marinette goes to her living room, plucks her copy of the book off of her bookshelf, and returns to the bathroom to hand it to him. He takes it with eager but gentle hands, flipping to the first page and immediately buries himself in the book.

Marinette exits the room and sets a timer for two and a half hours, then settles at her desk to do some designing. All too soon, the timer goes off, and she returns to the bathroom.

“Time’s up.” She announces, and Red Helmet’s head snaps up. “You’re free to go now.”

“Already?” He asks, taking out the IV with precision that can only come from prior experience.

Marinette nods. “Would you like to exit through the front door, the balcony, or do you have a specific window in mind?”

“Balcony will do, thanks.” Red Helmet says breezily, not realizing that she was joking. Sort of. The sarcasm was heavy in her words.

She opens her balcony doors, and lets him out, the cool night breeze ruffling her clothes as she looks out over the Gotham skyline.

Red Helmet whistles, an odd sound when coming through the audio filters of his helmet. “Wow, that’s some view you got there.”

Marinette shrugs. “Yeah, well, you get paid very nicely when you’re Jagged Stone’s designer and get commissions from all sorts of big names.”

The helmet’s eye slits narrow. “Wait, seriously? You’re Jagged Stone’s mystery designer? MDC? And you’re apparently not a civilian, as you said earlier? Who the fuck are you?”

Marinette grins and says nothing, simply booting him off her balcony and giving a cheerful little wave as he curses and fires his grapple, swinging away.

A week later, Minette purposefully runs into Red Helmet along his usual patrol route, handing him a card with ‘MDC’ emblazoned on it in curling golden script, with a phone number and a smiley face drawn underneath.

That night, her phone buzzes with a text.

Unknown Number: What’s cookin’, good lookin’?

She smiles as her fingers tap out a reply.

M: That’s the second time you’ve used it on me.

M: You have got to find some better pick-up lines.

Unknown Number: Well, it worked, didn’t it?

M: Yeah, I suppose it did.

permanent tags

@wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fantasyislive @chocolateherringtacofan @junarvion @susiej1118 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladybug-182 @itsmeevie01 @g-arya @souleateralicestein @nightstarblue @i-is-mysterious @moonystars14 @vixen-uchiha @the-flapdoodle-noodle @labschaos @nathleigh

unspecified @momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me @laurcad123 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @sassakitty @fusser90

[aubreyprc]

In My Veins 3

part 1 part 2

All that you can save

Will leave you in the morning

And find you in the day

-

Walking out of the room knowing he’d have to leave her there, alone for the rest of the night, made him feel sick.

“She shouldn’t be alone.” He said to Dave when the older man had come in after waiting a few moments too long.

“You need to get some rest.” Dave told him, “You can’t stay here. Visiting hours are strict.”

“But she-“

“Aaron.” Dave said, and the man looked at him, tears flooding his eyes. “I know you don’t want to, but you have to. Come on. I’ll drive you back here first thing in the morning and I will sort out about her transferring. You know she wouldn’t want you making yourself ill, let’s go to the hotel, you can have a shower, get some rest and you’ll be back here before you know it.”

Hotch just nodded and followed the older man out of the room, giving Emily one last look before closing the door, the last thing he heard being the sound of the ventilator signaling that air was in her lungs.

Now sat driving away from the hospital, he discovered that leaving there without her was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

“I’ve spoken to Strauss.” Rossi tells him, ��She’s agreed to allow you the next three days off, while Emily is still touch and go. But I’m afraid she can’t allow any longer than that.”

“Okay.” Hotch says, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“You doing okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You know, no one would blame you if you weren’t..” Rossi tells him, “Emily means a lot to all of us, but especially you. And I don’t think you’ve really processed this yet.”

“I’ve processed it.” Hotch tells him, staring at a spot of blood on his wrist.

“Aaron...”

“Dave I said I’m fine.” Hotch snaps, so the older man just nods his head and drops it.

Once at the hotel, Rossi hands him his key and watches as he takes it with a sort smile.

“Get some rest.”

“You too.”

-

As soon as he’s alone, all he has left to listen to is his own thoughts. He turns on the shower and hops in, watching the last of her dried blood fall from his body and down the drain, tears sting in his eyes as he stares at it. The burning water helps, giving him something else to focus on, but every time he closes his eyes he sees her. First, it’s flashes of her smiling, either at him, his son, or in the distance, then it’s her under the car, gasping for breath, bleeding, choking, then she’s on a ventilator and he snaps his eyes open, unable to see it anymore. He starts to wonder if he’ll ever forget.

Laying in the bed was unbearable, his mind running through every single scenario that could happen. He remembers the doctor telling them that in the event that she does wake up, there is a possibility for brain damage. What does that even mean, brain damage? There are so many forms of it, he realises, and the reality of that happening… he rubs a hand over his face, forcing himself to not think about it. He can’t think about it, not when he doesn’t know what to expect. He would love her no matter what, he knows that, he hopes she knows that too.

His only thoughts as he stares at the ceiling are the moments he felt everything change.

They were on the phone with them, when the accident happened. The sound of the car being crashed into and sent rolling over and down a hill over taking the speaker until the line goes dead.

“What just happened?” Garcia asks from her office in Quantico, already preparing herself for the drive to North Carolina.

“Something happened… a crash, maybe?” Rossi questions, before looking at Hotch.

“Were calling them back, can you get the location of the SUV?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” Garcia agrees, quickly getting the SUV’s GPS up. “It looks like..it went off route.” She tells them, “Last known location was on park..” Garcia stops, “It says here that they’ve been discontinued only for a few minutes.”

“They were heading in that direction.” Rossi says. He looks at Hotch, noticing the man’s panic, and places a hand on his arm.

“Come on,” He says softly, “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Hotch just nods and follows the older Agent out of the station while one of the Police Officers calls 9-1-1, letting them know about the accident.

The drive was silent, both too worried about what they were going to find to even think about communication, as they arrived at the SUV’s last known location the sight of a mashed up front lorry, smoking at the front while other pedestrians piled around, pointing at the hill below them, panic had never risen within the men so fast. Rossi parked the car quickly, stopping just as Hotch jumped out. Rossi ran after his friend, but the Agent was quick, just on his heels Dave stopped just as Hotch did and followed his eyes down to where he was looking, and there they were.

The SUV was on its side, smoke coming from the front of it, one side of the vehicle completely gone, as though the force of the crash pressed it into the other side.

The first person they noticed was JJ, who was talking to Derek about something while grabbing the side of her head. Morgan stood in front of the car, desperately trying to lift something up, Reid then came into view, bending down and looking as though they were talking to someone.

The two men ran down the hill, the sound of their footsteps grabbing the trio’s attention.

“What happened?” Rossi asked as they stood in front of them, Hotch looked at JJ, who stared back at him.

“That lorry ran a red light, crashed right into us.” Morgan answered, “Hotch..” He said softly, and then man’s eyes went from JJ’s to Morgan’s. “I can’t lift it.”

“Can’t lift wha-“ He paused, and wondered why the man was blocking him from passing him, “Where’s Prentiss?”

Morgan looked at him, sadness and guilt written all over his face, just as he went to answer, Spencer popped up from the floor and lifted his head over the roof.

“She’s conscious.” Reid told them and Hotch quickly ran to the other side of the SUV, before freezing, staring at the scene in front of him.

Emily, trapped under the car door from the hip down.

He rushed to her and dropped to his knees at her side while Reid looked at Morgan as he hurried to the side to once again, try and lift the trapped door that held their friend.

“Hey,” Hotch said to her softly, smiling at her as he rubbed a hand over her forehead, brushing hair away from it. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like i’m being- weighed down by eight tons of metal.” She whispered, trying to make a joke. Her breaths were harsh and horsed, as if someone was leaning on her throat.

“Probably because you are.” He grinned back, her laugh made him smile before she began to choke, he gently rubbed his hand acorss her head. “Shh, shh, relax.” He told her gently, “Just breathe, okay? Don’t try to speak.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes fluttering closed before opening again when she felt his other hand grab onto hers.

“They’re going to try and get the door off you, okay? Try and stay still.”

“They’re- not going to be able-“ She said crockly, her voice barley recognisable.

“Don’t say that.” He told her, “You’re going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Reid and Morgan tried another three times to lift the door to no avail.

“It’s trapped underneath something and it’s..” Morgan said breathlessly, “It’s too heavy.”

Hotch went to answer them when Emily began coughing. He gently moved her head to the side as blood came from her lungs, spluttering acorss the ground and her lips.

“The paramedics are four minutes out-“ Rossi said, stopping half way through his sentence as he turned away from her, the sight of her coughing up blood enough to send him into a full panic.

“You’re okay.” Hotch whispered to her as her coughs slowly stopped, “You’re okay.”

She shook her head, grasping onto his hand and looking at him.

Before he could say anything, there was a thud as Spencer fell to the ground. Morgan’s shout for him made him look up and he stopped breathing as the genius laid limp on the floor.

“Spencer?” Morgan said, cupping the man’s face. He placed two fingers on the side of his neck with shaky hands, a sigh of relief leaving him as a pulse beat back. He placed a hand on the man’s chest and frowned when he felt a slight bump. He undid he top and gasped at the sight of the purple bruising around his chest.

Morgan’s shouts zoned out of his ear shot when Emily’s hand went limp in his own.

He shook her gently, smiling down when her eyes fluttered open.

“Stay with me.” He begged her, tears rolling down his face. “You’re going to be okay.”

“No..” She said breathlessly to him, “Aaron-“

“Don’t-“ He pleaded, squeezing her hand.

“It’s too late,” She gasped, breathing becoming more of a challenge as her lungs and chest filled up with blood from the weight of the door rested on her body. “Look at me.” She asked, he did. “ I love you.” She whispered, a smile forming on her face as tears slid down her cheek.

Hotch smiled, wiping her tears and nodding, “I love you too.” He whispered back, “Please. Please just hang on for me.”

Emily swallowed her coughs and squeezed his hand, her mouth opened as though she wanted to say something but her breath caught in her lungs before she choked, blood coming up once again, then nothing. Her eyes fluttered closed and his heart hammered in his chest.

“Emily?” He called, stroking her cheek gently, “Come on. Wake up.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance as Rossi stared on.

Both Emily and Reid unresponsive to the calls from their love, a heartbreaking scene he’s only ever saw in movies.

Hotch watched as Emily was lifted from the ground and onto a gurney, before being quickly pushed into the back of an ambulance. He followed and with the nod of an EMT, jumped in, grabbing Emily’s hand.

“Do you want to hold onto this for her?” The EMT asked him, holding out her necklace. He nodded and gently took it, staring at it as he focused on the sounds of her heart coming from the machine.

-

No one sleeps that night. It’s fairly obvious that it was a restless night for all of them when they meet in the hotel lobby, dark bags under their eyes. JJ stares off out of the glass window of the hotel, her mind running with all the scenario’s that could happen in the next few days, she gently takes a breath and closes her eyes, trying to force herself not to cry. She turns her head slowly as she feels the presence of someone next to her, smiling sadly when Rossi’s soft eyes stare back at her.

“Did you get any sleep?” He asks her gently.

“Not even a little bit.” She chuckles, shaking her head, “Every time I closed my eyes i saw-“ She stops, swallowing and looking to the floor.

“I know.” He nods, looking out of the glass window, “I think Emily might be the only person getting a decent sleep for the next few days.” He gently teases in a way he only really does with Prentiss.

JJ laughs, nodding her head. “She’d love that.”

Rossi smirks, rubbing a hand over his face, before turning at the sound of two muffled voices behind him.

“You ready to go?” Derek asks them as he, Garcia and Hotch arrived in the lobby, all three looking worse for wear.

“Yeah.” JJ nods, sending a sad smile to Hotch, who smiled back as best he could.

“Come on.” Rossi says, leading the younger members out of the hotel and towards the SUV.

Arriving at the hospital, Rossi put himself on coffee duty, Morgan went to see Spencer, wondering if he’s ready for travel if they’re able to go home today, the other three heading to see Emily when they spot her doctor and two nurses leaving her room.

“What’s going on? Aaron asks the doctor, who stopped and looked at the three of them.

“Agents,” He greets. “Don’t worry, Agent Prentiss is fine. There’s been no change, which at this stage is a good thing.” He says to them.

“No change is good?” Garcia questions.

“At this stage,” He tells her with a nod, “Of course there is the hope for her to improve, but at this moment, keeping her stable is the main priority. Especially is you’re thinking of transporting her to your local hospital back in Virginia.”

“Do you still think that’s a good idea?” JJ asks.

“There’s always a risk.” He nods, “But in her condition I do think being at her local hospital is for the best, for her but also for you.” He smiles at them, “I’ll be talking to the rest of her doctors today and we will be speaking to the doctor in Virginia and we’ll know by this afternoon if the transfer is possible.”

The three of them nod, “Thank you.” Hotch says, before the doctor smiles and heads off and the three go to sit with Emily.

-

Morgan helps Reid into his shirt, before resting his hands on the side of his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” He smiles, Reid laces his fingers through the ones rested on his cheeks and smiles.

There’s a knock at the door and the two men turn.

“Knock Knock.” Garcia smiles. “It’s good to see you up, boy wonder. Are you being released?”

“Not today.” Reid tells her, “But the nurses think I should walk around for a few minutes to try and help my body recover faster.”

“What’s going on with Emily?” Morgan asks as he gently grabs Spencer’s hand and helps the man stand up.

“They’re talking about transport, they think it’s a good idea. For her and us.”

“Do you know if it will be today?”

“Not yet.” Garcia smiles, “Do you know how much longer you’re being kept in?”

“A few more days.” He huffs, Garcia laughs.

“You had major surgery, Reid.”

“I know but-“

“Is there a but?” Garcia asks, raising an eyebrow. The young agent looks to the floor, mumbling something before taking a step forward, Morgan’s hand laced through his own.

“How is Emily?” Derek asks.

“No change. The doctor said that’s a good thing for now.”

“I suppose so.”

-

Hotch jumps when his phone rings, a sound that also startled JJ. He sends her a quick apology before grabbing his phone and leaving the room.

“Hotchner.” He says, leaning against the wall.

“Hey.” Jessica says, “How’s Emily?”

“No change.”

“Are you still coming home today?”

“That’s the plan but-“

“Hey.. there’s no rush. Jack’s fine. I’ll watch him for as long as you need.”

“Have you told him anything?”

“No, I didn’t know what to say. I thought best you talk to him.”

“Yeah..” Hotch sighs, “Is he around?”

“He sure is.” Jesscia says, before handing the phone to a bouncing six year old.

“Hey Daddy!” Jack shouts happily, “Are you coming home today?”

“That’s the plan, buddy.” He says. “How was school yesterday?”

“It was okay.” He groans, still getting used to waking up before eight. “Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Sure did.” Hotch laughs, he hears Jack giggle and it fills him with that little bit of joy he’d needed.

“Are you with Emmy?” Jack asks, and Hotch feels his breath hitch in his chest, he swallows.

“No buddy, not right now.”

“Oh.” The six year old replies in a sad tone, “I wanted to tell her about the book we was reading before you both left.”

“Did you finish it?”

“Yep!” He says happily, “Me and Aunt Jess read it all.”

“Good. Did you like it?”

“Yeah!” He laughs, “Will you tell Emmy?”

“Of course.” He says, trying to force his voice not to break.

“Daddy I have to go to school now.” Jack sighs, “Will you be here when i get home?”

“I hope so.” He says, “I love you.”

“Love you too daddy.” Jack says, and the six year old ends the call.

“How’s Jack?” Rossi says, coming from nowhere and makin Hotch jump.

“He’s good.” Aaron nods, “He wanted to.. speak to Emily.”

“He’s gotten use to having her around.”

“Yeah..” Hotch says softly, “What do I tell him?”

“I don’t know.” The older man says honestly, “I guess you’ll know when you see him.”

“Have you heard anything about moving her to Virginia?”

“They’re talking with some doctors there now. We should know in a few hours.”

Hotch nods and he and Rossi head back into the room.

JJ smiles up at them from over her book.

“Everything okay?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Hotch says, JJ nods before looking back into her book.

Aaron just stares at the darked haired women connected to so many tubes he can’t even begin to count, and focuses on the sounds of her steady heart beat.

-

Hotch, JJ and Rossi are talking about something and nothing when the door opens, a smiling Garcia popping in, behind her, Morgan and Reid, the latter hanging onto his boyfriend’s arm to keep him standing.

“Hey guys.” JJ smiles, “Spence, it’s good to see you up and about.”

“Yeah.” He says, hesitant at the door, unable to meet Hotch’s eye.

“Take a seat, you’ve had major surgery. I'm not sure you should be standing.” Rossi says. Reid smiles, before he looks towards the empty seat next to Hotch, but he only takes a seat after the older man pulls it out further for him with a slight smile.

“Thanks.” He says, taking a seat, “How is she?”

“They say she’s doing well.” Hotch tells him.

“Have you heard anything about moving her?”

“Not yet.” Hotch answers, “Soon, hopefully.”

Just at that moment, the doctor walks in and smiles to them.

“It’s good news.” He says, “I’ve spoken to the attendings in Virginia and they have the room in the ICU.”

“When can she be transferred?” Rossi asks.

“In my medical opinion, I’m recommending travelling by Air Ambulance.” He informs them, “Dr Reid, I’ve spoken to Dr Manning and he agrees that in your condition, you should travel with her but I’m afraid the rest of you will have to travel separately. I gather you have your own travel?”

“Yeah.” JJ mutters, looking back at Emily and gently squeezing her hand. “Do you think she’s stable enough?”

“I do.” He nods, “A doctor will be traveling with you just in case of any emergencies but I don’t foresee one. The Helicopter is currently being prepped, i’ll be back when we’re ready to move her.”

“Thank you.” The team says at around the same time, the doctor leaves with a smile.

“I’ll go and call about the jet.” Dave says, already halfway to the door.

Twenty minutes later, they watch as Emily is wheeled away. Hotch gently graces a finger over his lips as he still feels the pressure of her forehead on them, before following behind the rest of the team.

“You look after her up there, okay?” Rossi tells Reid.

“Of course.” He nods, before he’s ushered away by his doctor.

“We should be going.” Garcia says.

-

The flight back was awful. Neither of them knew what to say, each of them worried about the absent members. Hotch stared out of the window, his mind running wild, remembering all his times with Emily, while also thinking about just what he was going to tell Jack.

JJ sat staring at nothing, her eyes on her coffee cup as she ran through the scene just one night ago. Rossi can’t help but try and prepare himself to lose her, the woman he’d grown to love like a daughter. Garcia sits and thinks about good things, positive things, about how she’ll smile at Emily when she wakes up, and tell her to never scare them like that again, thinks about the next girls night she, JJ and Emily will have. Because he can’t think about losing her. She won’t. And Morgan, Morgan tries to press down the intense guilt he feels about the whole situation, along with his worry for both his best friend and his boyfriend.

The helicopter is no better. Reid sits next to Emily, his hand resting in hers while he stares at the heart monitor, trying to control his breathing.

“What do you think the chances of her waking up are?” He asks the doctor, who looks at him and then the chart.

“I really couldn’t say. Situations vary.”

“I know.” Reid tells them, “But in your opinion? I’d like to hear it.”

“Okay.” They nod, before facing him, “I think that she endured very extreme trauma to her body. She has shown no change in the last twenty four hours. She cannot breathe without a ventilator and while her brain activity is present, it’s.. not what it should be, which tells me there could be some damage from the lack of oxygen when she coded on three separate occasions.” They tell him, “I think preparing yourself for the worst outcome and getting the best, is better than hoping for the best and getting the worst.”

“You don’t think she’ll wake up?”

“I think that the lack of improvement is a concern. If I were you I would prepare for the worst. I don’t see how she comes out of this, even if she does wake up.”

“Thank you.” Reid tells them, “For being honest.”

“I wish it were better information.”

“Yeah,” The young man whispers, rubbing his thumb across Emily’s hand. “Me too.”

-

Hotch goes home to Jack before going to the hospital, in desperate need to see his little boy.

He opens the door and can’t help but smile at the shout of Jack.

“Daddy!” The six year old jumps into his arms and wraps his little body around Hotch, who holds him right back.

“Hey buddy.” He says, kissing him on the temple. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Daddy.” He says, resting his head on his shoulder. “Me and Aunt Jess made pizza.” He tells him.

“You did?”

“Mmhm.” The boy says, “Is Emmy coming over for dinner too?”

Hotch rubs a hand over his sons back and sends a sad smile towards Jessica, who steps out of the kitchen.

“Do you need me to stay?” She asks him, he knows that means she’s really asking “Are you going back to the hospital?”

He sends her a nod and she smiles.

“Of course. I’ll give you two a minute.” She says and heads off to the kitchen.

“What is it?” Jack asks, lifting his head and looking at his dad.

“I need to tell you something.” Hotch says softly, placing his son on the floor and kneeling down to his level. “It’s about Emily.”

“Is she okay?” Jack asks quietly, placing with the bottom of his t-shirt nervously. Hotch gently grabs his son’s hand and the boy looks at him.

“No, buddy.” He says, shaking his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “No, she’s not okay.”

“Why not?”

“Well..” Hotch says, clearing his throat, “She got into a car accident.” He says, watching as Jack nods in understanding before continuing, “And now she’s resting but she can’t breathe on her own.. and so there’s a machine doing it for her.”

“But she’s going to wake up, right?”

Hotch smiles sadly and places a hand on his son’s cheek.

“I don’t know, bud.” He whispers, “I hope so.”

“Is Emmy going to go away like Mommy did?” Jack asks, his lip quivering as his eyes tear up.

Hotch doesn’t know what to say. How do you explain a coma to a six year old?

“I don’t know.” Hotch says, “The doctors are doing their jobs and trying to wake her up. But she might not wake up.” He tells him, “Right now, Emily is fighting to come back to you, okay? But she’s very very sick.”

“Can i go and see her?” Jack asks, a tear leaving his eyes, his voice sad and small.

“Not tonight, but maybe in a few days, okay? The doctor’s are still trying to help her.”

“But I want to say goodbye..”

“You will.” Hotch tells him with a nod, stroking his cheek. “I promise.”

“But not today?”

“But not today.” Hotch says, and the boys walks into his arms and cries, holding on tight to his father.

“It’s okay.” Hotch soothes, wrapping the boy in his arms.

“I don’t want Emmy to die.” The boy cries.

“I know.” Hotch whispers, “I don’t want her to either.”

“Are you going to stay with her tonight? She can’t be on her own.” Jack says, worry in his eyes when he looks at his dad, “What if-“

“I’ll go back, i’ll stay with her.” Hotch nods, “Don’t worry.”

Jack nods and goes back into his fathers arms.

Hotch picks him up and heads to the couch, sitting down and letting the boy rest on his chest, running a soothing hand down his back as the boy falls into a slumber.

Jessica puts him to bed a few minutes later, and Hotch heads to the hospital, trying to compose himself on the way.

-

“How did Jack take it?” Rossi asks as Hotch runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath while they wait for the doctors to allow them in her room.

“As well as a six year old could.” Hotch answers. “Everyone gone home?”

“Morgan is with Reid downstairs, he should be discharged tomorrow, Garcia went to get some tea and I sent JJ home. She should see her son.”

“Good,” He nods, “Good. And what about work..”

“You’ve been given three personal days. The rest of us go back tomorrow, apart from Reid. He’s on medical leave.” Rossi says.

“Okay.” Hotch nods, “God.. how is this happening… how is-“

“I know.” Dave say, patting the man on the back. “It all feels like a sick dream.”

“Yeah..” Aaron whispers, “She's in there?”

Dave nods, “They’re just running their own tests, getting their own information. We’ll be allowed to see her soon.”

The doctor’s left the room not ten minutes later and all three stood up.

“Is she okay?” Garcia asks quickly.

“She’s stable.” They tell her, “But I’m afraid I haven’t see any improvement in the last almost sixty hours, not even in brain function, which after this amount of time is normally seen, even if it’s just by a small amount.”

“What does that mean?” Aaron asks.

“That means that unfortunately, the probability of her coming out of this fall by ten percent. Which in her condition is an extreme amount.”

“So, what?” Rossi questions, “What is the percentage of a good outcome.”

“The chances of her waking up are currently falling at around twenty percent, but the reality of the situation is that even if by some miracle, which, I have seen, she does come out of this...the chance of brain damage rise by around two percent every time the heart stops for over two minutes.. her heart stopped three separate times at an overall time of seventeen minutes.”

“Oh.. my god.” Garcia whispers, stepping back and turning around.

“I think you should all prepare yourself for the possibility that she won’t come back from this.” The doctor tells them, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Hotch says, “Can we see her?”

Of course.” He nods, “Follow me.”

Sitting next to her, watching the rise and fall of her chest, if he ignores all the wires and the tubes and the beeping, it almost looks as though she’s just resting. He imagines her in his bed, sleeping, ready to wake up at any second and playfully scold him for staring at her. He prays for it, he hasn’t prayed in years, he realises, but as he rubs a thumb over her hand and stares at her, he prays for a fucking miracle, because if anyone deserves one, it’s her. It’s them. After everything they’ve been through over the years, Foyet.. Doyle.. Paris..

They deserve a miracle. She deserves a miracle.

[theseshipsshallsail]

There’s a new club in the Village - Infinity emblazoned in bright, neon letters - and naturally, the building is jam-packed with society’s outcasts on its opening weekend. Oliver grimaces, pressing his third beer to the side of his face, yet the condensation does nothing to soothe his overheated skin. It’s like a furnace of writhing bodies, and with every bead of sweat that bisects his neck to soak into his collar, he can’t help but wonder why he ever agreed to come in the first place.  

“Drink up,” Vanessa says, brandishing a bright amber concoction as she slides into the booth opposite him. “You look like you need something a little stronger.”  

Oliver raises an eyebrow as he returns the bottle to the table, then plucks the wedge of orange peel from the rim of the proffered glass. It’s been three years since he tasted a negroni, and the potent combination of gin, Campari, and vermouth sends his mind reeling in directions he usually fights tooth and nail to avoid. 

“Remind me again why you brought me here?” he asks, trying not to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “This isn’t exactly my scene.”

Vanessa scoffs. “Well, if you ever left your study...”

“I’m up for promotion!”

“You’ll be up for an ulcer if you don’t slow down. Besides, you deserve to let loose after... you know.”

You know, meaning his divorce, and the eighteen month shit-storm that preceded it.

Vanessa has the office next to his, and in between general grousing about University politics they’ve become close friends. It helps, of course, that she understands his situation all too well, and even though her parents never tried to strong-arm her to the altar, she and her girlfriend still have to hide their relationship from the rest of their colleagues.

Oliver sighs as he takes a second sip of his drink. “It’ll take more than a one night stand to loosen me up,” he tells her, and the filthy smirk that curls Vanessa’s lips has him tempted to bang his forehead against the table.

“Whatever tickles your pickle, Professor.”

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Hell if I know.” Slurring somewhat, she taps their cocktails together, and Oliver laughs as she leans forward, poking him in the chest. “Listen, Ollie, you and Micol did a spectacular job of making yourselves miserable, but at least you stayed faithful ‘til the end. Why not enjoy yourself, yeah?” 

“Why not indeed?” 

He’s aiming for sarcastic, yet his tone falls somewhere short of exhausted. She’s right, he realises, but Oliver hasn’t had much interest in men or women for a while. He’s not so deep in denial to admit his heart still belongs to another, and being hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have has done a real number on his libido.

“Damn! This place is heaving!” Simone says, slumping in her seat when she returns from the bathroom. Slinging an arm around Vanessa’s shoulder she drops a quick kiss to her cheek, and Oliver averts his eyes, the casual intimacy leaving him yearning for the impossible. “A few too many student-types for my liking, though. Makes me feel like I’m back in the theatre department.”

“Makes me feel like I’m pushing thirty,” Oliver mutters, painfully aware of the significantly younger crowd as he tugs at the cheap material of his shirt. Too many curries and not enough exercise has made him self-conscious of the few extra pounds at his waistline, and depressingly, twenty-eight feels ancient in comparison. 

“You wanna call it a night?” Vanessa asks, and Oliver nods absently as his gaze catches on a couple in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Caught in a world of their own, they make a striking picture. The taller of the pair is bleached-blond and athletic, his arms wrapped tightly around the slim waist of the man in front of him in a surprisingly protective gesture. Oliver can’t see his partner clearly from this angle, but his skin is pale and shimmering as they move to the beat, dark curls falling in a tousled mess. Whether it’s by artful design or sweat-damp from dancing, he can’t quite tell, yet Oliver is hypnotized by the way they bounce as he loses himself to the music, obscuring his vision until the other man reaches forward, gently brushing them away.  

The bass pounds in his rib cage, and Oliver’s throat feels constricted as he watches the brunette link his hands behind his lover's neck. Profile half in shadows, he raises up on tiptoes to whisper in the shell of his ear, and Oliver experiences a crisis of tenderness when he butts their temples together. Something squirms in his stomach. Something raw and envious. Memories flare, unfair and brutal, and he immediately blames the burning of his retinas on the relentless assault of the strobe lights surrounding them. 

“Oliver? You okay?”

No. 

Definitely not.

The jostling crowd causes the blond to alter their position, and Oliver’s head spins from more than just the alcohol as his blood runs cold in his veins. 

“Elio…” he murmurs, vaguely aware of Vanessa’s stifled gasp when she tries to get a better look.

“Your Elio?”

He wants it not to be - wants his eyes to be deceiving him - yet there’s no denying the truth. All that he’s forgotten - all that he’s clung to - coalesces in a rush of unslaked longing, and between one blink and the next, Oliver remembers everything. 

“Not anymore,” he whispers, but then, why would he be? 

Elio was seventeen when they first met, and Oliver isn’t naive enough to think he hasn’t fallen in and out of love many times since then. He’s beautiful, intelligent, talented beyond measure. Was he really so arrogant to imagine he would still be single? Pining for him, maybe? Saving himself? And for what? A six week romance one too-hot Italian summer? Something his cowardice cut short with a long-distance phone call?

He was, wasn’t he?

Arrogant. 

And so very stupid.

“Of all the gay bars in all the world…” Vanessa takes a swig of her piña colada as he continues to spiral. “I thought you said he lived in Italy?” 

“He did,” Oliver replies, picking at his thumbnail. “He moved here for school.”

“And you didn't contact him?”

“To say what?” His ears ring from the shrillness of her tone. “Hey, Elio. Remember that time I broke both our hearts ‘cause I’m a gutless schmuck? How about I buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

“It would’ve been a start.”

“It would’ve been selfish,” he says, tearing his eyes away. “He has enough on his plate with Juilliard. I’d only get in the  -”

“Juilliard?” Simone’s low whistle interrupts his self-reproach. “Impressive.”

“Son of a professor,” Oliver explains. “I always knew he was a genius.” He gathers himself with a quiet huff. “Though he’ll probably say he knows nothing.” The spark of nostalgia is crippling, and it takes everything he has not to break down on the spot. “I should go,” he says, draining the remains of his drink as he rises to his feet. 

“Oliver -”

“Why don’t you come back to ours?” Vanessa offers, making to follow, but whatever expression is on his face causes Simone to catch her by the wrist.

“We’re here if you need us, alright?”

“I know,” he says, eternally grateful for their support as he pushes some cab money into her hand. “Get home safe. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“You’d better,” Vanessa tells him, obstinate in her concern, yet all he can focus on right now is leaving.

The swirling thoughts inside his head are all-consuming, but Oliver is determined to reign in his emotions for a little while longer. Ignoring the way his shoes stick to the tacky vinyl flooring, he grits his teeth as he snakes his way through the crush of humanity. He needs space. Fresh air. Hell, a damn time machine wouldn’t go amiss. He has nobody to blame but himself, and he’s halfway to the exit sign when his pace grinds to a halt, his masochistic streak unable to resist one last glimpse. 

A flash of irrational panic makes him breathe in deep - hold it for a count of three - and when he turns to scan the roiling bodies that fill up the dance floor, he finds them immediately. The shock doesn’t lessen, and if Oliver thought his heart had broken when they’d clung to one another on a train station platform, it’s naught compared to when Elio tips the other man’s chin up with the same fingers that used to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. White noise fills his ears as he ghosts a kiss to his lips - two chaste pecks at first - and then harder. Hungry. Mouths open. Tongues swirling. Deep and dirty. 

Just the way he likes it.

Fool that he is, Oliver doesn’t turn away. But he’s not the only one. Their bawdy display has garnered a small audience of the jealous and horny, and when the cat-calls eventually die down he notices a clearly disappointed red-head stalk past them on route to her table of friends. 

Time has not domesticated him, it seems, and Oliver feels like crying as the world returns frame by frame - the oscillating pulse of the dance track. The lightning burst of colour from the laser system above. An innate sense of powerlessness floods through him - the depths of which he hasn’t experienced since Elio sobbed against his chest in an attic bedroom - and a heavy weight settles in his belly as he recognises the cues and rituals that were once directed at him alone. 

Elio has obviously flourished in his absence. His body language is looser, more relaxed, assured in a way his younger self could only dream of, and Oliver allows an almost-smile as the couple laugh for a moment before turning to walk away. 

His fingers itch for a cigarette - a habit he’s struggling to waive - and the next thing he knows he’s taking a seat at the bar, a double shot of bourbon in his hand he doesn’t remember ordering, and a screaming admonishment from his better judgement to not do anything stupid. 

All I had to do was find the courage to reach out and touch, Elio said once, rife with self-mockery, and Oliver’s advice was to try again later. Was this it? Their later? And if not now, when? Because whatever his feelings of bitterness - whatever his misguided envy - if he lets this opportunity pass him by, he will always wonder. Always look. 

In truth, he already does. 

Ever since Samuel mentioned Elio was moving to the States, he’s carried the idle fantasy of crossing paths in some random book store, eyes locking across a busy street, a name - his, theirs, both - shouted across a bustling coffee shop. Of all eventualities, though, he hasn’t prepared for an Elio who might not be happy to see him. Who might dismiss him. Cast him aside like some ill-fitting chapter in the editing process. The context is all wrong, and for it to happen like this is akin to being plunged into the icy waters of the berm.

“Accidenti!” an achingly familiar voice says from somewhere behind him. “Are all Americans incapable of taking a hint? Or is it just an East Coast thing?”

“It’s the accent, mio amico. Fries their brains.”

“Never mind their brains,” Elio replies in the same lazy drawl. “I think you’ve sprained my tonsils.”

There’s a snicker to his left, and like a moth to a flame, Oliver peers up into the mirror behind the bar, only to find his living nightmare mere meters away, sharing a cigarette. Elio’s still wearing the same bracelets he did that summer, and three years of sleepwalking collapses around him as Oliver hunches over, palms sweating. 

“Seriously though,” the blond continues. “Look at this place! Wall-to-wall entreés, and you won’t so much as skim the menu. You’re spoiled for choice, compagno.”

Elio scoffs as he brings the filter to his lips. “Didn’t I tell you choice is an illusion?”

“As is time, according to Adams.” The man slings an arm over his shoulders. “And here you are, free as a bird, wasting the perfect opportunity.” 

Elio flips him the middle finger. “Stronzo,” he says, leaving Oliver more confused than ever as he studies him over the rim of his glass. “It’s a curse.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe.”

“So what’s the answer? And don’t say forty-two.”

The guy chuckles. “Variety,” he says, signalling the harried bartender. “Things didn’t work out with the violinist - I get it. È la vita! You’re not in the mood for pushy red-heads? Fine. But don’t sell yourself short. Trust Fund Tina’s not the only one checking you out.”

“Perhaps.”

“What perhaps?” A knowing smirk shoots in Oliver’s direction. “See for yourself.”

It’s like experiencing the first tremor of an earthquake. Elio was always a force of nature, and bracing for disaster, Oliver feels the fault lines buckle beneath him. He thought he was done letting fear and shame dictate his life, yet even now, at peace with his true self, he can’t bear to witness the seismic shift between past and present. Instead, he falls back on avoidance, tearing strips off a frayed beer mat until the hair prickles at his nape.

He can feel it - the instant his fate is sealed - and taking a deep breath Oliver returns his eyes to the mirror, meeting Elio’s stunned features. Dark brows climb towards his hairline as the happiness on his face shifts into something else. Something measured. Unrecognisable. A blank slate, almost. For a moment, Oliver fears he’s going to ignore him completely, but then Elio straightens his spine, offers the half-smoked cigarette to his friend, and with a few whispered words strides forward with purpose.

His daring is a law unto himself, but the look he’s giving him now exudes superiority - omniscience, almost - as if he can read every thought that’s going on inside Oliver’s mind, and has already deemed them wanting. It shouldn’t be such a turn on, yet his heart skips a beat regardless. Then another. Every instinct in his body tells him to reach out, to hold Elio’s hand, tuck those wild curls behind his ear, but it’s no longer his place - if it ever really was to begin with - so Oliver takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey, scared and aroused simultaneously, before swivelling towards him.

“Oliver.” His name on Elio’s lips - three smooth syllables - and he feels reborn. “Long time no see.” Hesitating, he offers up a pack of Luckies. “Fumo?”

“I shouldn’t,” he says, dragging trembling fingers through his hair. “I told myself I’d quit. God knows it won't take much to -” 

“Tempt you?” 

Heat rises to Oliver’s cheeks. “Yes,” he admits, and Elio’s smile is a shallow, brittle thing. 

“Well, you know yourself,” he says, returning the cigarette carton to his pocket. “Don’t let me ruin your good intentions.”

His flippancy is like a red rag to a bull, and Oliver’s hackles rise as he sets his drink on the counter, irritated enough by Elio’s calm exterior to try and provoke a reaction. “Is your boyfriend not the jealous type?” 

All he receives is an eye roll. “Bruno’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could’ve fooled me. From what I saw earlier.”

“You saw nothing,” Elio replies, defensive. “We’re friends. Roommates.”

“Roommates?” Rising from his stool, Oliver takes a step towards him. “That kiss -” 

“Is none of your business. Not anymore.” 

It hits him like a punch to the gut. Oliver’s lips part, but no sound passes between them. He’s being irrational, he’ll accept, but old habits die hard, and through sheer force of will he quashes down his guilt, knowing better than to use it as a weapon. 

“Of course,” he says, chastened. “You’re right.” 

“I usually am.” 

“Elio…” This isn’t how he wants the conversation to go. “I know it’s too much to expect your forgiveness, but please don’t be angry with me. We were friends, once. Before anything else.”

“I’m not angry.” A beat. “Not anymore.” Tipping his chin, Elio folds his arms in front of him. One more barrier despite the brush-off. “I’m processing.“

“Processing?”

“Yes, processing. Originates from the Old French proces. Related to the Latin processus, and from the verb procedere in Middle English.”

“Wise ass.”

“Sempre.” Elio shrugs, watching him openly. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“My friends saw the flyers,” he says, bypassing the here, specifically, when Elio’s attention drops a few inches lower, and he realises he’s staring at his ring finger.

At the white line that’s all but vanished since he signed his way to freedom.

“You’re…”

Oliver clears his throat. “Divorced,” he manages, shuffling his feet. “Almost three months now.”

“Divorced?” Elio’s mask slams back into place, the distress in his voice palpable. “Why?”

And there are so many things he could say to that - the stress of his job, money, differing expectations - but this is Elio. His first love. His forever love. He, above anyone, deserves the truth. 

“I think you know why.”

“Do I?” That same phony indifference. “What the eyes see, and the ears hear, the mind believes.” 

“The truth is never that simple.”

“Not for us, it seems. Not in this world.” Elio gives his head a small but firm shake, blowing out a frustrated breath. “You know, tonight was supposed to lower my stress levels, not raise them,” he says, granting them a temporary reprieve. “But then, you always were hazardous to my blood pressure.”

“Trust me. The feeling’s mutual,” Oliver tells him wryly. “Might I recommend some deep breaths?”

“Deep breaths?” Elio rocks back on his heels. “If I had any peaches I’d be using my right hand.”

It catches him unawares, and Oliver can't help it. He snorts. Overcome by relief. Then he laughs - a weak sound, and damn near helpless - but a laugh, nonetheless. Cupping a palm to his mouth. Moving it to his eyes. Feeling the tears he’s been fighting since this whole debacle began.

“My God you’re incorrigible,” he mutters, the sharp stab of regret cutting him to the core as he glances over his shoulder, and the blond - Bruno - shoots him a wink. “When you said I saw nothing...”

The hesitant curve of Elio’s smile lights a fire in his chest. “There was a girl on the dance floor who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Lucky for me, Bruno’s never been shy about putting on a convincing performance.” 

Oliver winces. “Well, I bought it.”

“Mission accomplished, then.” Elio edges closer. “I could’ve said the same for you, once upon a time.” The air between them grows charged. “Do you ever miss it?” he asks. “Italy, I mean?”

“Every single day.” Oliver finds himself captivated by the smattering of stubble along Elio’s jawline. The touch of smudged kohl beneath his lashes that turns his gaze smouldering. “Do you?”

“In a way.”

“Just a way?” He’s not entirely certain they’re talking about the same thing, and Vanessa’s advice seems all the more pertinent. “Let me buy you a coffee?” Oliver asks, and Elio frowns.

“What? Now?”

“If you like.” 

“It’s gone midnight!” 

“Tomorrow, then. Whenever you’re available.” Suddenly desperate, he closes the gap between them. “I can’t excuse my actions, Elio - I know I can’t - but at the very least I owe you an explanation.”

“Oliver...” This time it’s Elio who reaches out, his usually steady hands uncertain as they entwine with his. “I was young, not stupid. What’s there to forgive? You left because you had to. You married because -”

“I was weak.”

“Cazatte!” The tension in Elio’s body snaps back like a coil. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility,” he murmurs, squeezing his fingers tightly. “I’ll never forget those words.” 

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be!” Elio sounds furious on his behalf. “Weak, you say? No. Control over others is the true weakness. Coercion. Conformity. All it does is breed hatred. And that’s not you. Not my Oliver.” 

“Am I still?” he asks, laying his cards out on the table. “Your Oliver?”

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

Oliver swallows thickly. “I guess we will,” he says, dropping his forehead to Elio’s crown.

He’s braver at twenty-one than Oliver could have dared imagine, and for the first time in years the dull ache beneath his ribs is replaced by a different sort of craving. The way they fit together so easily, like no time has passed, fans the banked passions within him - the desire to press his lips against Elio’s neck, to nip his way along countless freckles until he can fist those unruly curls and guide his mouth back to where it belongs. 

Flush against his. 

Devouring.

But not yet.

This isn’t leading to sex. Not tonight. This is about reconciliation. Reassurance. Redemption.

“There’s a late-night diner on the corner…”

It’s a whisper against his cheek - so quiet he barely hears it - and Oliver leans down, pressing his face to Elio’s collarbone, breathing him in. He knows this won’t be easy - knows there will be dark clouds before the dawn - yet here they are, older and wiser, and three years might as well be yesterday as the parting crowds provide a temporary island in which to weather the storm.

[evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn]

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

Chapter 2: Wasted Effort, Wasted Breath

Read on AO3 (Chapter 1)

Word count: 1363

Tw: Sooo much pining, Food mention, Remus shenanigans (Explicit nicknames, Explicit language, Human body limits being broken, Talk of gore)

Character’s: Logan, Roman, Remus (cause I love a supportive bestie)

~~~

"-pretty sure his favorite flowers are buttercups, but I could always ask... Are you listening to me Specs?"

"Hm? Yes, yes I am." Logan blinks out of his haze from which he was not listening. Don't get him wrong, he does usually enjoy discussions with Roman, but not really when he's making plans to help him woo someone he doesn't even like.

"Oh yeah? Name his favorite kinds of chocolates." Roman challenges.

"Milk Chocolate chips." Logan already knew that before, as he is usually the one to supervise Patton's baking to make sure he doesn't burn down the mindscape. Patton is always a chatty fellow, and Logan now knows pretty much his whole life story. He's used this knowledge before, gaining him a gold star on a family game night. (He has it pinned up next to all of Thomas's other academic achievements)

"Fair enough. I set the bar too low." Roman flops down on the bed, drawing a long sigh. As soon as Roman had found out about Logan's crush, he had dragged him to his room so they could get to the 'gossip' immediately.

At this point, after three hours, Logan is almost more annoyed than embarrassed. After the initial shock of realizing his infatuation, he's had the time to think about it and come to terms with his feelings. It helped that he was in the same room as the object of his affections this whole time, as he's been noticing all of the things he used to repress. Like how he really likes Roman's smile. He likes his prince charming smile, when he's overly confident about something. He likes his bashful smiles whenever he gets shy about something.

Really, he just likes Roman.

It feels very simple when he puts it that way. He can't believe it's taken him this long to find out.

"I think we should take a break from the input of ideas for now." Logan suggests.

Roman sighs and deflates further. "Ah, fine. I shall for now give up on setting you up with your one true love."

Logan stays silent. What? Just because he's annoyed enough to want to tell Roman doesn't mean he has an ounce of courage to actually go through with it. He clearly is all for setting up Logan with Patton, why would he like him back? Logan doesn't want to risk getting his heart broken, figuratively, right after discovering that his heart has been for Roman all along. Figuratively.

"Sooo, what kind of things do you like in Patton?" Roman asks, suspiciously calm and casual.

"I- um, well-" Logan fumbles for something people would find romantically attractive in Patton. "He... He's got... Eyes? And he wears clothes. I enjoy people wearing clothes."

Roman stares at him, confused. "... That's it? Come on, you've gotta give me something better than that Dill Weed."

Well, why not go for things he likes in Roman, he supposes. As Janus would say, every lie works better when rooted in truth.

"I think he's rather dumb," Logan starts off with. "Which should be a negative, but he's just so endearingly stupid. Every time he spews some nonsense, or does anything really, I just want to kiss him. He's also really creati- Kind. Very... Uhh... Sweet. I notice the effort he puts in to make others feel special. And make me feel special. Everyone is included."

"Do you... Like his puns?" Roman asks, half smiling, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Dear Newton, I hate his puns." Logan sighs solemnly. That draws a laugh from Roman, if only for a bit. "I do actually like his eyes though. The changes we experience in the mindscape are fascinating, and he's certainly been blessed, with those green, piercing eyes." He says, entranced, looking into Roman's wide, green, piercing eyes, that are looking back at him in shock.

"You mean blue?" Roman asks, oddly red in the ears and fidgeting with his hands.

Logan blinks out of his stupor. "Ah. Right. Blue. Apologies."

They both break eye contact, him looking around the very decorated room as if that would cure his embarrassment.

"You really seem to like him." Roman looks back to him, face pinched but still smiling.

"I do." Logan agrees, admiring the other. "I like him a lot."

"Well. Um." Roman stands up abruptly from the bed. "You did say you didn't want my help for tonight with the whole date ordeal. In which case, we shall resume the noble quest at a later date!"

"You don't want to talk about other things?" Logan asks, tilting his head. Is Roman okay? He looks pained.

"No, I think I'll be off. I have to go do other things. Like, water my.. Turtle." Roman ushers him out of his room. "So long, Geek Chic."

“... You don’t own a turtle-” Logan is left there, staring at the door. It's red with a star at the top center. Tasteful. Very Hollywood dressing room.

He clears his throat, and goes on his route to his own room. That shouldn't be that hard, since the only thing separating them is Patton's (He volunteered to move in between when both of them started arguing through the wall. It's strange because they live in a metaphysical space that only roughly simulates real life and therefore likely have an empty void in between the spaces of their rooms, but Logan suspects where he goes, more logical influence follows.), but fate has an interesting way of working. Or just Remus. Speaking of, there he is. Breaking through the ceiling and landing face-first with a splat in front of Logan.

Remus merely cranks his head 180 to look at Logan. "Heyyy Nerdgasm. How'd the romantic fucking go?"

"I didn't tell him."

"No? Are you scared?" He asks, in a mocking tone but looking concerned.

Logan's shoulders slump. "I don't think I'm ready enough to face rejection from him. Not to mention he seemed rather adamant about giving me tips on how to woo Patton."

"Aww, come on Logie. You can't give up now. I'm not allowed to tell you why, but you do have quite the chance of scoring that loser." Remus says, shifting in and out of existence until he's standing upright. He pats Logan's shoulder. "Now go, cause the next time you see me, you'll never hear the end of the teasing. Like, even if you rip off your ears! I'll still find a way to make fun of you." He cackles.

Logan dreads the moment they meet again. Now that both Remus, Janus and Virgil were proven right, not only will they brag amongst themselves, but they'll surely tease him.

Remus prances off, and Logan finally gets to his room. He takes off his shoes, because cleanliness is a good idea, and prepares himself for bed.

Staring up at his star-covered ceiling (Accurate to it's alignment of today, obviously), he realizes he still has a lot to process.

How did they all know and yet he had no idea? He knows he isn't the most intelligent when it comes to emotions, but come on, neither are most of them. Usually Virgil wouldn't know romantic tension if it slapped him across the chaps. Or maybe he would. He'd just be anxious and/or grossed out by it.

Logan realizes that he must have been obvious. He's sure that he's been caught glaring at Roman many times. And trying to be around him. And Janus is also a living lie detector.

He gets himself into a comfortable lying position, turning off his bedside lamp.

Will he ever tell Roman? He'll probably have to, or keep the feelings to himself for the rest of his existence, hoping they go away.

Which would be better? Sure, never confessing sounds like a tragic way for things to go, but what would be even more tragic would be to get rejected by him, and have to coexist for eternity afterwards. Would Roman avoid him? His heart clenches painfully at the possibilities.

Perhaps he's having cognitive distortions... Roman is rather considerate. If he were to let him down, he'd do it slowly and compassionately.

As Logan's conscience fades, he prays it will all turn out alright.

~~~

[violetwolfraven]

Willie Headcanons

So I actually came up with this like a month ago and forgot to post it. Anyway enjoy my headcanons about our favorite sk8er boi. Be ready for feels.

Tw: death, car accident mention, emotional manipulation.

...

In my mind, Willie had a good relationship with his parents. They were supportive and everything. They both loved Willie very much.

And Willie has youngest child energy so I’m saying he has a sister who’s 2 years older and a brother who’s 5 years older. Their names are Delilah and Austin.

AND ALL THREE OF THEM ARE ADRENALINE JUNKIES.

Seriously imagine the worst possible combination of head empty only skateboarding and you’ve got Willie, Delilah, and Austin.

Austin started skating when he was 7 and got Delilah hooked on it a year later.

Their parents kinda didn’t like the idea of it but those two had already started teaching Willie basic stuff by the time he was 3.

But... the other two had other interests. Delilah was into art (painting) and Austin played piano (like, really well).

For Willie, skateboarding was his thing. And it always was.

He had fun with it when his big brother would put his hands on his and teach him to play a bit, or his sister would give him some paint and a spare canvas and they’d doodle together, but it wasn’t like skating.

As far as I’ve seen (which admittedly isn’t that far) it’s widely accepted that Willie has ADHD so I’m leaning into that here.

And Willie inherited his brain from his dad, who had a bad experience with meds and so wouldn’t let any of his kids go through it.

So Willie grew up unmedicated but probably better off for the time period. His dad taught him coping mechanisms. Him and Austin. Delilah didn’t inherit it but she was taught to empathize with her brothers and recognize when they needed her help with something.

She’s a badass who can and does beat up anybody who’s mean to her brothers for missing social cues.

But anyway while Austin had piano (and skating as a side thing) Willie got even more hooked on skateboarding than either of his siblings because his brain latched onto it from a young age and couldn’t let go.

We all have our outlets. The chaos in our brains has to go somewhere. For Willie it goes into skating.

When he’s young he and his siblings will skateboard to school and then after school they’ll skate all around Hollywood for hours.

They do their homework in random McDonalds and Denny’s and tbh become local cryptid customers. Like they’re just these 3 super friendly skater siblings who tip really well and visit every fast food place within a 20 mile radius of their house with varying frequency.

They also find e v e r y skatepark, empty pool, and vacant lot in that 20 mile radius that they can possibly find.

Their parents have to bail them out of jail for trespassing and the occasional vandalism every so often.

Sometimes one of them has stuff to do and it’s just two of them out skating but if two of them are busy the other one never goes out alone cause it’s dangerous. We’ll get back to that later.

So anyway when they’re 17, 14, and 12, Delilah comes out as a lesbian.

And the family is supportive of course because they’re a good family.

But her coming out gets Willie thinking. About how some of his friends have crushes on girls but he just... doesn’t see the appeal.

Like he has a couple friends who are girls and they’re great and he likes hanging out with them at recess but he doesn’t get the hype. They’re just more friends. So he doesn’t really see what his big sister is so interested in either.

In my mind Willie actually is from around the same time as the boys (dying in like 1999) so one day while nobody else in their house is home he and Delilah are watching Star Wars: Return of the Jedi and Willie’s again wondering why people think Leia is so hot cause she’s cool and all but Luke is right there and he looks really good and—

Willie: I think I might be gay.

Delilah: Yeah I know.

They talk about it and Willie does decide to tell the rest of the family but he’s a bit wary about anyone else because he saw how some of Delilah’s friends turned on her after she came out. He doesn’t want that to happen to him.

He does end up telling a few of his friends but he doesn’t quite not care what people think of him the way his big sister does.

Austin is the only straight one and he’s like. So awkward about it but in a sweet way.

Austin: So, Britney Spears is hot, right?

Delilah: Stop.

And

Austin: So I saw you hanging around Chris the other day are you two..?

Willie: ...no...???

Austin: Cool, yeah I didn’t think so. Just had to make sure. Not that I’m doubting your ability to get boys but I’d have to shovel talk him if you were.

Willie: If I ever do get a boyfriend, please don’t.

He tries. He’s a himbo if that wasn’t clear. Where did you think Willie learned it?

So anyway fast forward a couple years and they’re 22, 19, and 17. Austin and Delilah are both in college and Willie’s the last one left at home and things between their parents start getting... tense.

Like they don’t fight exactly but they’ve fallen out of love and things are awkward.

Even Austin and Delilah can tell and they’re only home on breaks and some weekends but for Willie it’s right there and he’s watching it happen. He has no option but to see.

They used to have a rule that they don’t go skating alone because it’s dangerous but Willie just can’t make himself stay home so he goes out skateboarding.

At first it’s never too far from home or anywhere where there’s too much traffic but as things get increasingly awkward at home he goes out farther and farther, chasing the adrenaline high he used to get from going anywhere and everywhere every day after school with his siblings.

Then his parents officially tell him they’re getting divorced and

And it’s not like he couldn’t see it coming, but... it still hurts.

And neither of his siblings are coming home any time soon so

So he goes out skating on his own, way too far from home. He keeps going until he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.

He isn’t really paying attention the way he should but that’s not why he runs into trouble.

The driver of that red pickup is drunk and he rounds the corner out of nowhere.

If Delilah or Austin had been there they could have yelled for Willie to jump out of the way, or maybe up on the hood so the impact wouldn’t be as bad, but he’s alone.

So he gets hit, and the car was going fast enough that he’s dead before he even hits the pavement.

After that there’s a lot of confusion but once Willie figures out he’s a ghost... it’s too painful to think about going home, so he just... doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to see his family mourning him, so he just distracts himself, skating everywhere he couldn’t before without getting busted.

Plus some old routes where he used to go with Delilah and Austin, just for something that’s familiar but not too familiar.

He’s on one of those more familiar routes a few weeks after his death when he’s skating down Sunset Boulevard one night, singing along to Toxic by Britney Spears blasting from a nearby club and a man dressed in a purple suit comments on how he’s got a good voice.

Honestly Willie is just so relieved to have someone to talk to that he forgets about stranger danger completely.

Plus he recognizes an Elder Gay in Caleb and assumes he can trust him because the Elder Gays he met at pride that one time he went with Delilah were so nice and understanding of how reassuring it was to see queer people of older generations who got a happy ending.

Caleb barely even has to try. He just lets this 17-year-old obviously-queer ghost rant at him for a few minutes, asks a few questions and finds out that he also can play piano, and convinces him to come to the Hollywood Ghost Club the next night.

From there it’s not like Willie has anyone to save him so of course he has to join the club.

At first he’s completely alone because the other performers scare him almost as much as Caleb does.

Then slowly, he sees how they give him space because they know he’s scared of them. How they turn a blind eye when he leaves the club without permission. How they don’t critique his mistakes with the same sarcasm they show each other.

Willie starts to realize that the other performers are doing their best to look out for him, and he starts being less afraid.

They’re all too concerned with their own survival to really protect him but if they draw some attention to themselves occasionally so Caleb doesn’t notice Willie being slow to pick up some tricky choreography, that’s not too risky.

The others are all like 21 at the youngest and they really don’t appreciate Caleb tricking a literal child into working for him no matter how talented said child is. (Cause Willie is good at singing and piano. It’s just not his passion.)

The twins are 22 but they died in 1925 and before that they were performing to support a younger brother who they never got to say goodbye to so maybe they see Willie as a kind of second chance.

Lyssa (what I decided to name drummer woman because I don’t know her real name if she has one) is 25 and she died in 1984. She had a daughter who’d be about Willie’s age now and... who knows? Maybe they were friends.

Fuego is 24 and from 1951 and he had a childhood best friend who enlisted and died in WWII that he thought he might get to see when he died but that boy moved on and so... well, Willie’s just a little younger than his friend was the last time he saw him.

In short Willie becomes everyone’s baby brother and they do what they can to look out for him even if they’re just as scared of Caleb as he is.

And the better adjusted Willie gets to (after)life at the HGC and the better they get to know him, the guiltier the others start to feel about him being stuck there.

Eventually a combination of guilt and worked-up courage leads Fuego tells him about the whole unfinished business thing, in hopes maybe he can figure his out and get away from Caleb.

It doesn’t take Willie long to think of his family, how hopeless he felt about the divorce, how worried he was it would change everything and then how scared he was to see his family in pain because of his death.

He realizes his unfinished business is probably seeing them. Letting himself say goodbye.

He almost gets away with it.

Caleb catches up and stops him in the driveway of his house and poofs them back to the HGC.

He convinces (gaslights) Willie into believing that saying goodbye was never his unfinished business and even if it was it’s not like it would matter because Caleb wouldn’t let him do it.

The next morning he ships the HGC out to Tokyo. They stay on the move for a long time and when they are in town, Willie is basically locked in his room.

The next time he’s allowed out in Hollywood, his parents don’t live in their old house anymore and he has no way to find them.

As a coping mechanism, he just starts making the best of a bad situation. Becoming better friends with the other ghosts. Helping soften the blow whenever someone new comes along.

None of that means he stops checking the faces of passing skaters or keeping eyes on restaurants his folks used to like, but it does mean he more or less gives up hope.

That’s what he’s doing when he bumps into Alex.

Look, Willie loves his friends at the HGC. He really does. But there’s a big difference between 17 and 20-something. Like the others will drink alcohol some nights and technically Willie was born over 21 years ago but he still feels weird enough about it that he doesn’t drink.

He hasn’t talked to anyone his age in a long time so Alex is a breath of fresh air.

Also he’s like. Really cute. And sweet. And funny. And shit, Willie’s fallen for him before he even has time to think about it.

He keeps thinking about how Alex doesn’t seem like he’d be physically capable of hurting someone on purpose so Austin would approve and every once in a while there’s that sarcasm that pops out which means he’d get along great with Delilah.

In general Alex is the kind of guy he would’ve loved to take home to meet the family. Them not included, he’s kind of... everything Willie’s missed about Hollywood in the form of one person.

Then they hang out more and Alex is still everything he’s missed but he’s also so much more than that and...

It almost feels like a part of Alex is still alive. And for the first time in years, a part of Willie feels alive, too.

They’ve known each other for like a week tops and Willie is already in love.

Not that he’s admitting that to anyone, because he’s learned the hard way that anyone you care about can be used against you.

Still... when Alex asks for help getting revenge on Bobby, he can’t bring himself to say no because he needs to keep Alex in his (after)life and the only way he knows how to do that (or to make people be nice to him in general) is to be as useful as possible.

That turns out to be a big mistake, because Caleb sees right through him in an instant, targets Alex to confirm it, then immediately starts the process to trick the boys into committing to eternity at the HGC.

Willie feels like an idiot for thinking he could actually get away with it. Doing something good for someone he cares about.

He hadn’t thought Caleb would be interested in them because he’d never actually heard them play. The assumption was that he’d make them do some small favor and then let them talk to their bandmate for 5 minutes. A clean deal where they never have to commit to anything. Willie forgot to take magic into account.

He almost manages to convince himself it was all a bad dream, but when he seeks out Alex and his friends to check on them, he can almost feel the jolts himself, and seeing Alexthem in pain feels terrible.

Willie knows that theoretically they could figure out their unfinished business and cross over, but that all depends on finding it and doing it fast enough and if they failed...

People you care about can be used against you. And Willie does not want to be used against Alex again. He doesn’t want to see Alex used against him.

So he keeps his distance, in hopes Caleb will think he lost interest. He’s pretty sure once the boys find out about the stamp they’ll hate him, anyway.

And plus, as he’s been taught by his friends at the HGC, you have to look out for yourself because no one else will do it for you. Maybe you hurt somebody by not standing up for them, but you can apologize later and hope they forgive you. You can’t apologize if you’re gone, and it’s not like it would make a difference anyway because Caleb is too powerful for anyone to beat.

The thought of how spending eternity with Alex might not be so bad even if it has to be at the HGC does come up, but ironically that’s what makes Willie decide to screw his courage to the sticking point and tell them.

Because he has seen what decades at the club has done to his friends.

They’re all great performers, and they perform happiness well even to each other, but Willie knows them enough to know how tired they all are. How they have been doing the same thing over and over again for decades and they are sick of it.

They’re young, talented tragedies lost to drug overdoses, or AIDS, or accidents, or suicide, and they should’ve gotten to rest after everything they went through in their lives. Instead, they got a curse disguised as a blessing. They got to stay on a stage, got to keep performing and soaking up applause, never got to stop.

Willie has been there a shorter time than most of them and he feels it. The exhaustion, because ghosts are supposed to haunt for a few years then figure out their unfinished business and move on. They’re not meant to be trapped for decades, used as party tricks.

A part of Alex still feels alive and being trapped in the Hollywood Ghost Club for years on end would kill that part of him.

Willie can’t let that happen, so as hard as it is...

He tells the boys what’s wrong with them. And by that hurt, betrayed look in Alex’s eyes, he’s honestly expecting him to never forgive him.

But then Alex does. And that almost hurts worse because whether he figures out his unfinished business or not, Willie doubts he’s ever going to see him again.

He honest to God almost cries when Alex hugs him because... shit, he hasn’t gotten a hug since he was breathing.

He goes back to the HGC and tries to go about his day, and keeps replaying how good it felt to have Alex’s arms around him, hoping that memory will get him through the next few decades on his own.

The ghosts at the club do actually gossip a fair amount and by this point all of them know about the 3 dead members of Sunset Curve.

So when Willie admits to Helen (what I’m calling one of the twins) that Alex hugging him was the first time he’d gotten a hug since he died, she hugs him tight for a good 20 seconds, telling him she’s sorry he has to lose him, and if Willie closes his eyes he can almost pretend it’s Delilah.

The next thing he knows, he’s locked in a closet.

Caleb comes to talk to (intimidate) him a few hours later, saying he knows what Willie did.

He’s magically locked in his room alone for a couple weeks after that and it’s essentially psychological torture.

Helen, Anna (what I decided to call the other twin), Dante, Fuego, Lyssa, and everyone else tell him not to test Caleb for the next couple years, but Willie has a heart full of love and a head full of fuck it, so he doesn’t listen.

He gives it exactly one day of being/acting scared and obedient, then goes out without permission again, fully intending to scream in a museum alone to let out all his feelings.

Remember: Willie didn’t see the Orpheum performance. He doesn’t know the boys didn’t cross over but by Caleb’s mood he has a feeling the outcome of that scenario was not in the magician’s favor.

He gets there and it’s literally this comic by the very talented @williessweatycherrysocks

He can’t stay long but he and Alex scream in each other’s faces, talk a bit, maybe sing a duet.

After that, they sneak to see each other when they can but don’t get to see much of each other for months.

It’s hard on both of them but they don’t give up on their relationship.

Through long and complicated events which I will outline later, Willie eventually gets free of the HGC, hugs his friends goodbye already making plans to take down Caleb for good to free them, too, and promptly declines an offer to stay in the Molinas’ garage.

As much as he wants to be close to Alex he’s done being confined to one place.

He still comes and visits like every day tho.

He knows a lot more about ghosting than the other boys do so he and Carlos get along amazingly like:

Carlos: So do you know who Jack the Ripper was?

Willie: No? How old do you think I am?

Carlos: I dunno but I thought it might be Caleb cause that would explain how he never got caught.

Willie, taking notes in his Things To Potentially Use To Take Caleb Down notebook: You’re a tiny genius.

No one was expecting it but everyone is in awe of how well he and Carrie get along. Between the two of them they know so much celebrity gossip. (and it’s definitely a good thing he’s on good terms with her cause she and Alex are close)

On the angsty side, Willie also bonds with Nick over how they both know how it feels to be manipulated and used by Caleb.

Also it takes a long time before he’s able to trust him, but he does get adopted into the Molina clan by Ray.

Ray reminds him a lot of his own dad, once Willie’s able to see that he’s nothing like Caleb.

Ray’s honestly just 100% happy to Dad™️ anyone who needs a dad so it works out great once Julie and the boys figure out how to make Willie visible.

But anyway back to important stuff.

Now that they don’t have to hide for any reason, Willie and Alex can both breathe a little easier. Or... they both feel better. Ghosts don’t really breathe.

Willie can finally let himself get used to feeling alive again.

The whole ghost gang goes (invisibly) to the Los Feliz Homecoming dance and maybe it should make him feel a little on-edge with the kind of club-like environment but...

He’s got Alex there, and they’re dancing to some corny pop love song from the 90s that Flynn probably put on because she knew the ghost boys would be there so how could he feel anything but safe?

For a minute it almost feels like actually being alive and there’s yellow and pink and blue lights coming from everywhere reflecting in Alex’s eyes and Willie is suddenly very aware of the fact that though they’ve been together for a long time now, they haven’t had their first kiss.

Then the Cha Cha Slide starts up and the atmosphere switches and Willie totally forgets about the whole romantic tension thing because it’s the Cha Cha Slide everybody has to dance along.

Dirty Candi performs towards the end of the night and the ghost boys cheer the loudest despite how Julie’s laughing at them. They don’t care that Carrie can’t even hear them, they’re being supportive!!!

Everybody screams even louder when Flynn runs up on stage and kisses Carrie and Willie feels a big burst of affection at how Alex shouts ABOUT TIME!

Then he gives Willie a quick hug and leaves cause he and the rest of Julie and the Phantoms have to go get set up for their performance.

Since Alex was able to flip Carrie’s hair in All Eyes on Me I’m saying that ghosts can touch lifers if they focus and believe it will happen hard enough, so the ghost gang has developed a system for alerting their non-Julie lifer friends to their presence.

So while they’re waiting in the crowd Willie taps Carrie on the shoulder like: • - - one short tap, two long taps, a Morse code ‘W’ and Carrie lets Flynn know that he’s there.

(Nick can see him too but Nick’s off somewhere with his date {one of his lacrosse teammates you know the one})

Anyway so Julie goes out and starts up the song and then the rest of the band poofs in but

Something’s unusual.

Cause it’s not Luke on the lower main vocals.

It’s

Alex

Singing while he plays the drums and fucking killing it.

Willie totally bluescreens for a second but then when he actually focuses on the lyrics...

It’s a new song about beating the odds and being with the person you love in spite of the challenges that come with them.

And yeah there are Julie elements in there, (and she’s definitely making heart eyes at Luke even as he sticks to backup vocals) because of course there are since she has to start the song up, but

But Willie might not have any formal music training, but he was at the HGC long enough to know his stuff about music and recognize different artists’ styles.

And there’s a time signature switch on the bridge that’s a little off from how Luke would write it. There’s a swing to the melody that’s a bit more ‘pop’ than the band’s usual songs. Julie’s harmony doesn’t go as high as it normally would, as if whoever wrote the song didn’t have as high of an upper range to work with as she does.

The song is so unmistakably Alex that no one else could have written it.

Flynn and Carrie are quietly making smug comments on what they bet his face looks like right now but Willie’s not listening to them.

On the last chorus, Alex fucking winks at him right before poofing out.

Willie has whiplash like how did they go from him having to psych Alex up to break into a museum even when there’s zero chance of getting caught to Alex openly flirting with him from the stage?

He poofs backstage right as the boys get back from dropping their instruments back in the Molinas’ garage and he honestly doesn’t know what he even wants to say to convey how amazing that performance was.

Then Alex just smiles at him.

Alex: So I take it you liked the song?

Willie: Can I kiss you right now?

They both kinda freeze after he blurts that out and Reggie goes wow really quietly before he and Luke poof out to give them some privacy and whoops now they’re both flustered but

Alex: Wow, didn’t expect that. That’s... um, wow. But yeah.

They kiss and it’s a total romcom moment.

And the story’s far from over, but to Willie this definitely feels like happily ever after.

[kingofkate]

Random Rant on Heart no Kuni no Alice (because I want to)

This is going to be stupid long, but I’m not sorry because I want to put these thoughts down.

Basically, this long rant is going to look at the three main games where Alice’s relationship with Peter White is explored: Heart (game 1), Clover (game 2), and Twin World (1.5?????). I’ll look at how their relationship is portrayed and the differences between them.

Let’s start with Heart no Kuni no Alice, the first game in the series. (I’ll be referring to the remake version that only focuses on the main story)

The story of the first game is the introduction to the series, and so Alice’s relationship (no matter who you choose) is pretty basic and there isn’t much story beyond her the romancing. This is most true with Peter.

The entirety of this game, and Alice’s relationship with Peter, is one long stream of Peter pushing Alice’s boundaries to see how far he can get. It’s actually a little scary looking at the way he slowly inches his way through the relationship.

It starts with Peter coming to Alice’s room on his breaks to rest his head in her lap. Even though she doesn’t like it, nothing stops him (she moves room and locks her door but he always finds her and uses a key to unlock the door). Then, he get’s her more comfortable with touching him and with the fact that he is a rabbit.

After it makes the move to them sleeping together (in Rabbit form), Peter starts only sleeping in human form. Once Peter has a nightmare.... uh.... bad dream, he hugs Alice, which leads to this becoming a more common thing. He starts kissing her. Even when she tries to get him to stop he tells her that if she doesn’t give him permission to kiss her, he’s going to do it anyway.

He does try to take it further, but thankfully Alice puts her foot down and he respects that... for a while... Outside of the bedroom, Peter starts trying to get her to advance their relationship status in front of others. 

Alice admits they are friends, which makes him happy, but he isn’t satisfied. He gets her to eventually admit they are “lovers” after pointing out that most people don’t make out every night with their “friends”. (somebody hasn’t heard of friends with benefits)

The ball comes around and the canon choice has Alice and Peter go back to his room for the first time. Peter admits that he hasn’t brought her there before because he was afraid that he would scare her away. He was probably right about that, since he proceeds to tie her to the bed and start getting freaky while telling her that HE is scared. Whatever.

Like everything else, this becomes the new normal for them and Alice starts spending more time in his room. This also marks the change in Peter from being unnervingly kind to Alice, to starting to torment her more. He puts this down to trying to get her to “stay”, as her return to her world is approaching. 

When the time comes, she does choose to stay. This leads to a conversation with Peter where he admits that he wants her to love him, a huge change to what he used to say. This brings him to tears as he realizes he has become “selfish” by wanting her to love him, even though he doesn’t think she can.

Spoiler Alert (wait why am I putting this at the end of the story?!) Alice already loves him, although she’s pissed at herself for it and refuses to tell him.

The story basically ends with them just deciding to go forward with the relationship and Alice will stay. The End.

I’m not going to talk more about the “No-stay route” where basically Peter just force kisses Alice anytime she asks anyone for information about the medicine Peter gave her at the beginning until she just decides they are dating.

I’ll analyze this more as we go through the second game.

 Clover no Kuni no Alice (game 2 I guessssssss?????)

This game starts much later after Alice’s decision to stay. It also goes off the assumption that Alice didn’t have a relationship in the first game and was just friends with everyone. 

Right off the bat I’ll say that I LOVE the progression of this game way more than the first game.

The game starts with Alice waking up to realize that both Peter, Ace, and Vivaldi are hiding in her bed. After a long confrontation they all say they were there to tell her about the country straight up moving from Heart to Clover.

They go to the assembly and after getting used to the new world, Alice and Peter (who are already friends at this point) go for dinner.

The second best thing here is that Peter is more chill and happy with them being friends, so the relationship doesn’t start outright. The actual best part of the game is that the relationship is defined and pursued entirely by Alice.

The starting of this relationship is Alice making the point that Peter doesn’t seem to treat her like someone who was “in love with her” would. The point even make more when he tried to kiss her but just ends up kissing her lightly on the cheek.

They start going to dinner because they have to eat and Alice likes having Peter along with her. At the castle, the story focuses more on Peter’s acceptance of her working as a maid (because he doesn’t understand her need to work) and his treatment of the other maids.

There is a great scene where Peter and the maids are arguing with Alice because they all want her to hit them (since they relate hitting with affection). When Peter insults the maids Alice hits him, which makes him grumpy. When she confronts him about it, he admits he wanted her to hit him for him, not to defend the maids. Peter actually understands that Alice was angry and they talk it through.

The two go to town and Peter shoots some guy for bumping into Alice. He then gets in trouble for not cleaning up the “mess” after leaving the man alive at Alice’s pleading. 

When Alice sees him later at the castle he runs from her. After a comical chance Alice gives up and sits on the ground, hitting her head lightly against the wall in frustration. Peter comes back to make sure she is ok.

He states that he suddenly felt nervous seeing her happy to see him and ran. They talk about it a bit. Alice tells him that as long as he respects her wishes, he can kiss her. They kiss. 

This is a HUGE change from the first game. 1) this kiss comes from a lead up and discussion of advancing their relationship and 2) Alice is the one who initiates it. They kiss more as the days go on, but Peter always asks first since he knows she is uncomfortable showing affection in public.

One time, when they go back to her room at the Clover Tower, Peter actually stops the kissing to talk with her about her past relationships. This is where it is revealed that he wants to kill her ex for breaking her heart, and also doesn’t really like her dad for abandoning her after her mother’s death.

It doesn’t take long after this for Alice to suggest they go on a date. This comes as such a surprise to Peter that he falls off the couch they were sitting on and goes into a panic. 

Some time passes and they go on an official date to a field to have a picnic together. Peter changes into a rabbit and they talk. Alice admits to Peter that she thinks she’s fallen in love with him. He is completely silent and changes back. Quietly, he asks if it’s ok for him to hug her (he’s asking permission still) and when she says yes she notices that he’s crying. He begs her not to run away from him. She’s not going anywhere.

But the game doesn’t end here. 

The rest of the game is them developing the relationship and dealing with the fact that Peter can’t accept Alice’s decision to keep working as a maid. She eventually asks if they should break up since he doesn’t like her job. He freaks out at this and threatens to kill the other maids if she does. They talk it through together and he relents and says he isn’t happy about her job, but won’t bring it up again.

After this nothing of too much note happens. The game ends (good ending) with them getting freaky in bed. And by that, I mean Alice says she wants to hurt him and Peter is like “yes, that sounds nice.” Then Alice says she won’t and he’s like well that wasn’t nice. And it ends with them in a relationship. 

The End.

Obviously the second game is a huge improvement on the relationship of the first game. Alice has been in Wonderland long enough to get to know the people and Peter has been friends with Alice long enough to respect her decisions. They spend more time developing their relationship in a more healthy and realistic way. I love this game.

BUT!

None of this compares to Wonderful Twin World, which is set in Country of Heart, but takes place after the end of the first game. And this game is just... amazing.

It picks up with Alice already in a relationship with whoever you choose. There is a strange storm coming that will change everyone in a random way that will end after the storm and they won’t have any recollection of what happened to them. And the whole story of this game is Alice working through the issues in whatever relationship she is in. No matter who you play, it’s great.

I particularly like Julius’ route, where Julius changes into a super affectionate man who is obsessed with Alice and acts like the boyfriend she wanted him to be. This helps her work through the fact that Julius is generally neglectful of her and doesn’t show affection often. 

Peter’s route is nice because it shows them sort of working through his anxiety of the instability of their relationship. While he starts off not worried about the storm, he goes through the steps to help Alice get more comfortable by taking her on fun dates.

When the storm comes the only change with Peter is that he can’t change into a rabbit anymore, and has no memory of being able to do so. At first he isn’t worried, but when they run into Eliot, who can now change into a rabbit, Peter’s anxieties start to show.

Alice always used Peter’s rabbit form as a way to destress after a long day (who doesn’t love cuddling a cute rabbit, right?). After having a dream where she spends time with Eliot in bunny form, she accidentally says her name in her sleep, causing Peter to spiral.

Instead of him going off the handle, they sit together and talk about his anxieties. He admits that though he is happy they are in a relationship, he doesn’t actually understand why Alice chose him. He’s constantly worried that she will change her mind. Now that he can’t become a rabbit, he wonders if she wouldn’t be happier with Eliot.

Alice handles this pretty well and tells him that she loves him for him, not just the rabbit form. And while it doesn’t fix everything, she is now aware that Peter has concerns about her feelings for him and she can make changes to improve things.

Once the storm ends Peter doesn’t remember anything that happened. The go to a church and Peter discusses his interest in getting married to Alice. She turns him down and he asks when she’ll be ready. It ends with her uncertain when that time will be.

-----

Basically, I love some healthy relationships. And I really love open conversation and respect in a relationship. The first game is somewhat excusable because it was the first game and the start of the series.

The fact that the creators improved on the relationships in the other games says a lot. 

The biggest problem I’ve always had with the first game is Alice’s unwillingness to set clear boundaries and the others willingness to just do whatever they want. That’s why I also really like Julius since he is the most adult of the lot and is too busy to treat Alice like garbage. He’s not great for a relationship because he’s so neglectful of her, but since he spends more time defining his relationship with Alice it’s fine. Basically, a relationship is fine as long as both sides set their boundaries and respect the other. This is why Twin World is amazing.

So many “dating sim” games don’t give the main character much of a personality. Alice is great that she has a personality and a clear set of standards. 

I’m not super happy of the exclusion of Peter in the remaining games and I would love to see him make a comeback now that the creators have developed further. 

The new game will be released soon and we will see if there is any conclusion to the series of not. 

So in summary: Peter in Heart --> Hot trash, Peter in Clover --> Good Bun, Peter in Twin --> Best Bun.

Rant finished, I guess.