#maybe i should at least get my other sewing projects to a good stopping point before i stop

[arsenicflame]

i am very excited to start a new project with my new room layout. unfortunately i do have to finish moving everything about before i can do that :/

[seaoreos]

I got a new bag at forest fair this year. It’s red and orange and shaped like a whale shark with big button eyes, ridiculously adjustable straps, and a surprising amount of space inside compared to my old bag.

So I’ve piled a lot of things into it. Among the usual things like wallet, phone, lip balm. A small bottle of lotion, a small tin of hand cream, two different kinds of earplugs, glasses cleaner, phone battery, a notebook & pencil, and a small box of the Pride pins I make.

It only has one small pocket inside of it, so I put my most-used and smallest stuff in there. So, to keep things more organized, I put some things into a small handy little mesh bag I got from some dice or earrings or something I got. Two different sizes of pads, normal band-aids, waterproof band-aids, at least four ibuprofen, a pack of tissues… I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting. Anyways, *everything* that’s in my bag isn’t exactly the point of this post.

Once I realized how much stuff I could put in my new bag, it made me happy to think of being the ‘has literally any random thing and god knows what else in his bag’ guy. And there’s still stuff I wanna add, like maybe a small sewing kit, glasses repair kit… gum. So on.

And recently, in an online class I’ve been in (which could be another, less positive post, at least right now) I saw someone trying to post their art on the discussion board that had done something I had almost done, until I figured out the way everyone else was doing it. So I just dropped a quick comment, telling them I’d had the same problem, and trying to help. Not required or anything, I just… wanted to.

Last night, my friend Skyler was drawing something for the first time in awhile- they were struggling with a small part of it, asked for some help- I did a quick show of how the reference they were using lines worked, the sort of shape they made, and also drew a vague shape of what it could look like over/with their lineart. It didn’t take much work, just a few minutes or so, but they were really happy. The art came out great, by the way, and it made me really happy to see them drawing again.

and tonight my partner was also drawing- something for my birthday, actually. (Tuesday. Oct 3rd. I’m turning 18.) At first he was just struggling with the cuff of a sleeve, some fabric folds, so I did a similar thing to help him out. Now I’m also drawing a quick reference of my oc Viri’s face scar for him, (which I have yet to finish. Class project. That I should be working on instead of writing this.) because he needed that too, and I don’t mind.

They were both thanking me for my help- we were all on call together- and in trying to find something to say, I just managed “I like to help.” And, you know, I really think I do, actually. I like to help. It’s nice. I don’t know where I was going with this originally, but… I like to help. I want to help. And I’ve been doing it without much of a second thought lately, which is nice. It feels good.

it’s 7am and I haven’t slept which isn’t helping my mush brain make the original point/meaning here that I’ve kinda forgotten by now. But I wanna be good and kind and help but I also wanna remember how to be mean again.

but I guess what I mean by ‘mean’ I think, is I want to.. have a backbone again? Be brave again? Be a brash little autistic kid who said ‘but why’ to everything and anything and just did what they thought was right? And it’s kind of ‘mean’ only because a lot of other people see it that way. I wanna stick up for others and myself too, instead of clamming up and not doing it. It doesn’t help that I don’t feel very intimidating. I’m almost 18, but I’m pretty short and a weird little hopefully-kinda-gnc-lookin thing and people just always seem to think that I’m 13 or something. It’s genuinely getting on my nerves. Ma’am. I am a fucking grown ass man. Please stop talking to me like that.

I’m tired I need to sleep. Basically I wanna be kind but take no shit. I guess. That’s very punk to me. And I wanna make a jacket covered in patches and pins and other customizations, maybe some spikes and some moss, paint and sharpies and god knows what else. I simultaneously wanna look like a wizard, some cottage thing, a punk ass fuck, a colorful blob, and some forest creature, which is great. Anyways remembering the nice stuff I’ve done recently w just the. I dunno, almost bewildered ‘I like to help’ that was.. instinct? Makes me feel good. I wanna have my sharp teeth back.

[mc-lukanette]

Omg I am loving your dreaded string of fate au this is such an interesting take! As always your writing and ideas absolutely amaze me You are such a wonderful writer! If it isnt too much of a bother could we get some more writing for dsaf? Either way I hope you are staying safe, taking care of yourself, and that overall life is doing you good.

Thanks, everyone! And sure, you can have more!!

—————

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Luka wasn't sure why Marinette had called him over that day. As far as he knew, she was busy with projects, though he wouldn't complain about spending some time with her.

Still, he found himself tensing and steeling himself up as he walked up the stairs to her living room. The hum of her sewing machine could be heard as he got closer, reminding him of clothes, which led to the thought of thread, which then brought his mind to the red string of fate wrapped around her neck. His last venture as Viperion seemed to have improved his sensing, so now he could see someone's red string even if the person on the other end wasn't nearby.

Needless to say, he wasn't looking forward to it with Marinette.

He closed the living room door behind him, then went up the staircase, knocking to let Marinette know he was there. The sound of the sewing machine stopped, and he heard her footsteps come closer followed by the slight creak of the trapdoor.

Marinette's face was revealed to him, offering him a smile, and Luka tried not to stare too much at the red string still tied around her neck. He swallowed, but smiled back at her, which was genuine enough even if he was uncomfortable.

"Come on up," she welcomed, holding the trapdoor up for him. He nodded and walked up the rest of the stairs, hearing the trapdoor close behind him as he took a look around the room. He felt Marinette's eyes on him, but she voiced her thoughts before he could wonder about them.

"You didn't bring your guitar?" she asked.

He glanced at his back, then at her, having no way of telling her the real reason why he'd chosen not to bring it. "Yeah, I didn't. Sorry, did you want me to play for you?"

"Oh! No, it's okay—I mean, of course I love it when you play for me so I always want—but I understand!" She thankfully dropped the subject there, turning away to return to her seat. "You can make yourself at home or help yourself to the fridge downstairs if you want anything!"

"Thanks," he said with a smile, heading over to her chaise lounge and taking a seat on it. Even with Marinette's chair turned away from him while she used her sewing machine, he could still see the red string dangling off the side, though it faded into full transparency before it hit the floor.

In truth, he'd left his guitar behind to force himself to use less music and more words. He didn't want to hide behind it to try and ease his situation or make himself more comfortable with everything. The situation the love of his life - and more importantly, his friend - had gotten into through no fault of her own was horrible, and no matter how uncomfortable he was, he couldn't have been any more uncomfortable than her being strangled by fate itself.

He watched her, waiting for a lull in her work to ask, "Did you need anything?"

"Hm?" She looked over her chair to meet his gaze.

"I'm happy to be here anyway, but I didn't know if you needed me for something," he clarified.

"Oh." She understood. Waving a hand dismissively, she assured, "No! I just invited you here to hang out—" She gestured to her sewing machine, her eyes a bit shifty. "—with me, while I was busy but totally happy and relaxed and everything!"

Her wording was inherently suspicious. His eyes scanned over the room, noting the projects littered about that seemed so plentiful. He supposed he hadn't exactly been subtle in his concern for her, but he wasn't sure of exactly what tipped her off or made her feel like she had to "prove" her happiness to him.

Besides, he knew better, and he knew her. Even with the smile she gave him, her brows were furrowed and twitching, a tiredness to her eyes that definitely didn't show what he would call "happiness."

He gave her a nod anyway, not wanting to call her out when he was still piecing things together himself, and he didn't want to confirm her worries if she was merely suspecting that he felt that way.

He leaned back while she returned to working, his hand on the cushion underneath him as he considered what to say. If Sass was right in his beliefs, then Luka indeed had the power to change Marinette's fate, though there wasn't any specific method of how. He thought back to all of their conversations, wondering what he would've done differently if he'd known beforehand and trying not to get bogged down by "what if"s or blame himself for it.

He stared silently at the back of Marinette's head, remembering the day at the ice rink when he saw the same thing. She'd been running away, or more specifically running towards Adrien after he'd encouraged her to do so. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but from what he gathered from interactions he'd either seen or heard about, it hadn't gone anywhere. Maybe it hadn't even gone well at all.

Maybe he'd made a mistake?

Luka's mind grew heavy with the thoughts, his body falling back to lay down on Marinette's chaise. He didn't regret doing what he felt was right, but now he wondered if his wording could've been better.

"You should probably go over and talk to him."

He hadn't exactly been thinking at the time - a lot had happened that day - but he noted that he could've asked her how she felt. He could've questioned her on if she really wanted to go after Adrien. It was possible she'd wanted to go home on the subway with him, but was convinced to chase Adrien when he brought it up. Luka just imagined Marinette seeing Adrien and Kagami together, the red string tightening around her neck and then loosening when she was presented with the prospect of going after him.

He felt like he was the one being strangled, just thinking about it.

"Luka?"

He looked up, surprised, seeing that Marinette had stopped sewing at some point and had come to sit on the chaise lounge with him. She hovered over him, concern written across her features and the red string taunting him with its mere existence. Luka knew by now that she was very worried about him, and trying to wriggle or half-lie out of it wasn't going to convince her. He'd just really thought that she would've been sewing for longer.

He also jolted up into a sitting position upon realizing that he probably looked like he was making himself too comfy on her chaise lounge. She didn't seem to mind at least.

"...Marinette," he said slowly, trying to put his thoughts in order. She leaned closer as a sign that she was giving him her attention, and he continued, "Do you know why I let you go that day?"

She tilted her head and he belatedly caught that he hadn't been specific, still too lost in his own head. He opened his mouth to clarify, but realization struck Marinette before he could speak, her brows raising in recognition.

"Oh!" she gasped. Though the conversation was sudden, she didn't seem to mind rolling with it. "Um, yeah, I wondered about that sometimes. I mean, I knew that you knew that I—but I didn't know that you—but if you didn't back then, I—"

"No, your song was definitely in my head, even back then," he confirmed casually, smiling as he added, "Since the day we met, remember?"

She blushed at the mention of his confession, but nodded. "Y-yeah." Then, seeming to rethink the moment with that information in mind, she asked, "...Why did you let me go then?"

His eyes flickered to the red string, then back up to her face. "I want you to be happy, Marinette, no matter who it's with. I thought that Adrien would do that, but I hope I didn't make you feel like you had to go after him."

She blinked, the thought having seemingly not even occurred to her. She averted her gaze, her eyes darting around at nothing in particular. "Is...is that why you were looking like that?"

He didn't answer, but that was answer enough for her.

"Oh, Luka," she murmured sympathetically. "I—well—" She shifted uncomfortably. "—I shouldn't be talking to you about this. It'd be wrong when my feelings are so messed up. You..."

He shook his head. "You can talk about Adrien if you want. I'd be happy if you relied on me more."

He meant it. Even regardless of his fate sensing, he wanted Marinette to feel comfortable talking to him, even if it was about her love problems. He didn't want their relationship to be changed because of his feelings for her.

"Even more?" She raised a brow, the concept confusing her, but she didn't question him further. She hesitated, rubbing her cheek in thought, then dropped her hands to her lap and twiddled her fingers. "I-I don't know; about Adrien, I mean. I—" She sighed, giving a halfhearted shrug. "—he's not interested in me. He likes Kagami, but the girls kept telling me that I shouldn't give up on him because of how hard I tried." Then, stiffening, she waved her hands and rapidly assured, "N-not anything against your sister, of course! That's just what happened—and—" She huffed in frustration. "—it feels like I hit a wall, and I'm not going anywhere. Adrien doesn't notice me and I can't talk to him and... I'm tired."

Luka nodded silently to let her know that he was both listening and sympathetic towards her plight, also not wanting to interrupt her.

"Of course I tried hard, but Adrien and Kagami seem like they're good for each other and they should be happy together. Just, whenever I think of giving up or not trying, I..." She raised a hand to her neck in a gesture that he immediately understood. "It hurts, and Alya's always trying to get me together with Adrien no matter what I say. Maybe she knows best and maybe she's right, and that's why I always end up in crazy situations with him. Plus, everyone..." She looked away, her voice not having the enthusiasm one would imagine her next words would go with. "...everyone keeps saying we're made for each other."

Luka clutched his leg to ground himself while struggling to keep a straight face. He'd certainly never heard that one before, but it stung like his neck did just thinking about it. His lips pressed together, trying to contain his emotions, but he couldn't help blurting out, "No one's made for anyone."

She blinked at him, shocked, but he didn't take it back or apologize for saying it so suddenly. He recognized the fact that he was talking about destined love being nonexistent when he himself knew that "fate" was very much a real thing, but his actual opinion on the subject hadn't changed. As far as he was concerned, fate's "opinion" was about as valid as anyone else's when it came to someone else's relationship.

"No matter what Alya, or even Rose, say about you and who you love, Marinette, all that matters is you and who you want to play for. You deserve someone who makes you happy." He paused, lamenting the reality that she really hadn't gotten to think about it. "Does Adrien make you happy?"

He saw the string tighten, Marinette opening her mouth to respond before she seemed to stop herself. He felt like apologizing, but knew she wouldn't understand even if he did. She frowned, staring down at her lap and appearing conflicted with herself, so he reached out and carefully hovered his hand over her shoulder in a show of comfort. She glanced at his hand, noticing the gesture, but didn't immediately give him any sort of permission.

Then, to his surprise, she brought her hand up, gently grabbing his wrist and lowering it so his hand was placed perfectly on her shoulder. She didn't even let go, keeping his wrist held like she needed his hand there.

"...Luka," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I—no, you'll laugh, or think I'm crazy."

He squeezed her shoulder, not hesitating to insist, "I won't. I'm here for you, Marinette."

She finally met his gaze, and he saw a vulnerability there that wasn't there before. She was nervous, whether of his potential reaction to whatever she had to say, or something else entirely.

She took a breath, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she composed herself. The silence stretched, though he could tell that she was steeling herself up.

"The—the Adrien pictures," she began, tossing a pointed look to the wall where they were. "I don't remember putting them there."

He kept his expression schooled, not wanting her to overthink his reactions. Careful and quiet, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"I-I mean, obviously I started putting them there, back when I first met him," she admitted, "but I took them down. They'd been down for a while."

Luka could confirm that. He'd been to Marinette's room before when she'd been sending in their Kitty Section audition to Bob Roth, and the pictures weren’t there.

She continued, "I-it hurt when I did it, but I did, and I threw most of them away. But then—when I wake up sometimes, they're back, and I don't remember putting them up. I-I mean, maybe I did but I just don't remember it? I stay up late sometimes and I won't remember falling asleep, so it might be like that, you know? I-I know you're not exactly like me and I'm sure you don't sleepily put pictures on your wall but..."

He smiled as best as he could, even though he was hurting inside. "I know as well as you do that creativity doesn't have a schedule."

She managed a smile in return, but it returned to a frown as she dropped her gaze to her lap. "A-anyway, I can forget things, but it's never been that bad, and sometimes they'll be gone for a while but then they'll be back a few days later. There's just—there's no other explanation, so it has to be me, right? I-I don't know if it's a sign or what, but if it is then I don't know what it's telling me? Because whenever there are a lot of pictures—" She made a vague gesture with a wave of her free hand, cringing as she added, "—something humiliating always happens. That usually gets me to take them down again, but then... well, you know." She rubbed the back of her neck with a hand, blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry, I probably sound crazy. I-I swear, I'm not trying to—"

"I believe you."

Her mouth halted mid-sentence, hanging open as she stared at him.

"I believe you, Marinette," he repeated, giving her shoulder another squeeze. He didn't need any further detail to know what happened, as there was no way Marinette would take down those pictures and then put them back up the next day, or even the day before that. It didn't make any sense, and while he hadn't seen the wisps of fate move things or brush them aside, he had seen them trip Marinette, meaning they had some level of physical control. It explained it all: the convenience of the pictures appearing and disappearing, as well as the amount of them there'd be.

"T-thank you," she murmured, her lips briefly moving to form extra words but nothing coming out. She looked shy, possibly from admitting something she hadn't told anyone before, but she at least wasn't so nervous anymore.

"You don't need to thank me," he assured, "but you're welcome. Just know that you can tell me anything."

She ducked her head, peeking up at him to ask, "How much do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're comfortable sharing with me," he replied.

"Everything?" She'd said it quickly, as if she'd blurted it out, but she didn't panic afterward. She merely looked at him, hope in her eyes.

He nodded without hesitation, wanting her to be certain that he meant it. She searched his gaze for a few more seconds, one last shred of doubt remaining, but he knew he'd convinced her when her body relaxed and she smiled at him with her whole heart. Her grip on his wrist lightened, her hand sliding off and back down to her side. He pulled back as well, his heart a mixture of emotions but mostly just happy to see her happy.

"I..." She turned away, facing her trapdoor. "I'm going to get some snacks first."

He watched as she pushed herself up, then stood as well to follow after her. "Do you want any help carrying them?"

She looked at him, confused. "You don't have to."

Instead of responding with the obvious - that he wanted to - he simply replied, "You're not alone anymore, Marinette."

He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand. He let himself get lost in the warmth of her gaze, hoping that he might see it more one day if he could ever get her string removed, even if her warm gaze would end up being for someone else.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain. 

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice. 

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly. 

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger. 

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language. 

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident." 

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution. 

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage. 

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together. 

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years." 

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!" 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on." 

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue. 

"Aren't you going to finish the song?" 

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you. 

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me." 

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead." 

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them." 

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things. 

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice. 

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were. 

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about. 

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with." 

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?" 

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore." 

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked. 

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?" 

You admitted it point-blank. "No." 

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly." 

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood! 

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?" 

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?" 

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute. 

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles. 

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders." 

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand. 

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield. 

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin." 

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library. 

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!" 

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge. 

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance. 

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again. 

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try. 

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look. 

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine. 

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it. 

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere. 

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!" 

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center. 

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it." 

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free. 

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center. 

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen." 

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground. 

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again." 

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'. 

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it." 

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors. 

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of. 

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick." 

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?" 

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that." 

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?" 

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable." 

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now." 

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.” 

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?” 

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.” 

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.” 

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?” 

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.” 

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?" 

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.” 

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach. 

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?" 

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around." 

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor." 

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom. 

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set. 

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got." 

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz." 

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving. 

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap. 

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do." 

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant. 

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you." 

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside." 

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do. 

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.” 

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

[gusu-emilu]

Ship: Wei Wuxian / Wen Ning

Summary: Wei Wuxian gives Wen Ning a heartbeat, but not in the way either of them expected.

Rated T, No Warnings Apply

Poorly-concealed Wen Ning character study

Emotional hurt/comfort

Burial Mounds settlement days

Pining, cuddling, and homoerotic necromancy

First kiss

Demisexual vibes

Guest appearance from A-Yuan

Ch. 2/2, 6k (12k total), read on AO3 above or on Tumblr below

Wei Wuxian gives a low, melodic laugh. “What I want, but can’t have? More potatoes. Do me a favor and beg your jiejie about that for me.”

Unsurprising that Wei Wuxian would deflect the question. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.” Nervousness and guilt twitches in Wen Ning’s fingers. “I—I shouldn’t—”

He’s doing this all wrong. He should let Wei Wuxian ease into sharing what is troubling him, the way Wei Wuxian eases him into new experiments, not stumble around so bluntly with his words.

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem bothered. He looks down from the sky at Wen Ning. “How about you tell me a few things too?” He removes his arm from around Wen Ning’s waist and leans away, stretching, then rests his hand beneath his head. “The heart of a demonic cultivator is black and evil and, most importantly, elusive.” He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’ll have to trade for it.”

Wen Ning knits his brow. “Your heart isn’t evil. It sounds nice, and feels nice, like you—” He stops himself, immediately wishing he hadn’t spoken, and wishing he could sink into the earth.

Wei Wuxian laughs again, sounding a bit surprised. “Is that so? Well, why didn’t you say that earlier?”

With one arm wrapped beneath Wen Ning, he pulls him closer for him to lay his head on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Wen Ning remains stiff, unsure if he should hold Wei Wuxian again—he just revealed too much, didn’t he? Wei Wuxian must feel uncomfortable...

But Wei Wuxian tugs a bit more, until Wen Ning can’t help it and awkwardly curls into Wei Wuxian. He welcomes the warmth from his body, even as he feels he shouldn’t accept this invitation.

“Since it's you,” Wei Wuxian says, “you won’t have to trade as much. But first…” He sucks in his upper lip, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth the way he does when he’s leaning over his notes and thinking through a design plan.

He takes Wen Ning’s hand and guides it so his fingers touch the opening of Wei Wuxian’s robes.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

Slightly confused as to what is happening, Wen Ning nods.

Wei Wuxian’s fingers wrap around tighter as he slides both of their hands under his robes.

“W-Wei-gongzi—”

He continues to slowly guide Wen Ning until he feels Wei Wuxian’s bare chest, heartbeat meeting his palm.

Anxiety crawls into Wen Ning’s throat as Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat quickens under his cold touch.

He is a corpse.

His chances of dying during the Sunshot Campaign were only slightly less than his clansmen on the front lines. He could have been nothing more than another Wen struck down in war and raised from the dead by Wei Wuxian, a nameless, mindless weapon, reanimated to fight his own people, cast aside once no longer useful. He has a consciousness, but the state of his body is no different from another fierce corpse.

What if, deep down, he reminds Wei Wuxian of every snarling, bloodthirsty corpse he called forth, reminds him of how he used them to kill thousands during the war? What if he reminds Wei Wuxian of the three months he spent fighting for his life in the Burial Mounds?

If something Wei Wuxian wants, but can’t have, is for Wen Ning not to touch him—he would never say it.

“But—but—isn’t it cold?” Wen Ning asks.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. “It is.” He doesn’t sound the slightest bothered. “I’m going to freeze out here in the woods, and it’ll be all your fault.”

Worry takes over Wen Ning’s expression as he starts to pull away. Wei Wuxian just laughs and presses down on his hand, trapping him.

“I like it, okay?” he says. “How could I feel cold? You’re the warmest person I know.”

Unable to express how those words burrow into him, blooming into gratitude and relief and yet still not fully settling the anxiety, Wen Ning curls closer, resting his head on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He lets in the comfort of the warmth of Wei Wuxian’s body and the heat of his chest below Wen Ning’s hand, counting his heartbeats to steady his mind.

“You next,” Wei Wuxian says. “We’re taking turns. Tell me something you want but can’t have.”

Wen Ning quickly realizes what a challenging question this is. To find something meaningful to share that will not make Wei Wuxian feel sad or guilty.

“I…I want to learn to sew,” Wen Ning mumbles.

“Really!” Wei Wuxian shifts under him, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I know how, kind of, for just—just something useful. But not how to make something pretty. My clan didn’t teach that to boys.”

“Let’s have Granny teach you, then!”

“I don’t know…my hands are so clumsy now.”

Detailed handiwork requires all his focus. Despite how it soothes him, even helping Jiejie make medicine saps his mental energy. He can easily carry everyone’s heavy loads and take on the roughest labor in the fields, some of his favorite ways to help, but he has traded for it with the little delicacy he once had.

Wei Wuxian strokes Wen Ning’s wrist under his robes. “It’ll just take practice. You’re still getting used to your strength.”

“I...I guess so.”

“You’ve made this much progress, haven’t you? You used to barely be able to hold a teacup. Learning to sew would help you adjust to your strength more. Plus, Granny wants to spend more time with you.”

“She does?”

“Yeah! A-Yuan always keeps her busy lately. You’re much less of a headache than him.” Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue. “Such a demanding child. Always wanting to run off somewhere, eat more snacks, shout whatever he feels…”

A smile tugs at Wen Ning’s lips. “I think I know who he learned that from.”

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian knocks on the back of Wen Ning’s head. “You’re not allowed to tease me.”

“…I think I know who I learned that from.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, his chest shaking under Wen Ning’s hand. The sensation fills Wen Ning with happiness, hearing Wei Wuxian’s laughter, feeling his joy vibrate through his body. Wen Ning wishes he were better at making jokes so he could feel this again and again.

“Alright, alright, go easy on me,” Wei Wuxian says. “And by the way, you can learn to sew. That doesn’t count as something you can’t have. But I’ll take it.”

“Then it’s your turn.”

They exchange small wishes back and forth, mostly about landmarks they miss from their hometown or little opportunities that had already passed. Half of Wei Wuxian’s wishes are about other people—for Uncle Four to stop snoring when they sit around the campfire, for Jiejie to get her medical texts published, for Jiang Wanyin to get a sense of humor.

Wen Ning begins to wonder if Wei Wuxian is intentionally steering the conversation away from himself.

Maybe if Wen Ning shares more, Wei Wuxian will too. If he doesn’t reveal something deeper, how will Wei Wuxian feel comfortable to reveal something serious in return?

Once Wen Ning allows it, deeper needs bubble up inside him and beg for his voice.

I want to go back to the beginning of the war and protect my family.

I want to taste and feel and breathe again.

I want you…

“I want to attend a real archery competition,” he says instead.

“You’re not missing much. It wouldn’t be a competition. You’d beat everyone there!”

Wen Ning tries to protest, but Wei Wuxian shushes him. Finally, Wei Wuxian relents and lets him speak. “You know I was never good at doing archery in front of other people. Not like you—you're even able to swordfight with an audience.”

Wei Wuxian scoffs. “You mean I used to be able to swordfight. And besides, the whole point is to have an audience. If you don’t carry your sword when everyone is looking, someone will scold you,” he says, sounding bitter.

Not for the first time, Wen Ning realizes he touched upon a sore topic only when it’s too late.

He tries to fill in the pieces of Wei Wuxian’s words. Usually when Wei Wuxian mentions someone scolding him, he means Hanguang-Jun. Wen Ning has heard the stories about him on the nights Wei Wuxian had drank too much. Despite how they are drawn to each other, and look out for each other, Wei Wuxian remains convinced that all Hanguang-Jun wants is to reprimand him for demonic cultivation.

Or at least he pretends he’s convinced of this. It must be difficult to hide the core transfer from a man who keeps offering to guide him to the right path, to heal him.

Wen Ning hadn’t realized how much the core transfer would alienate Wei Wuxian from the other cultivators.

Wei Wuxian shifts onto his back, facing directly up toward the belt of stars behind dark silhouettes of trees, seeming lost in thought. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” he suddenly asks.

Wen Ning’s entire body stiffens. “No.”

How did they get to this topic?

“That’s a pity. So many ladies who missed out on that chance.” Wei Wuxian sighs, then grins. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think either of us are going to be courting ladies anytime soon.”

“L-Ladies?” Wen Ning echoes with a mix of surprise and alarm. Then he realizes what his reaction might imply, and grows quiet, wishing he could suck the words back into himself.

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a few moments. “Don’t tell me the Ghost General is afraid of girls.”

“I’m—I’m not—I just…I was…”

“Haven’t you ever liked a girl?” Wei Wuxian’s voice is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of hesitancy.

Attraction has always been complicated for Wen Ning. He had been never sure if what he felt was admiration, a desire to become friends, or a simple appreciation for beauty. Wen Ning might wonder if he's a cutsleeve, but it’s hard to know when he has only fallen for a single person in his entire life.

“I like them, just not…not…”

“Not that way,” Wei Wuxian suggests.

“…Right.”

“Hm.” Crickets chirp in the forest, as if suggesting ideas to Wei Wuxian as he thinks. “Then…boys?”

“Not—not every boy.” Not anyone who isn’t you.

The admission sends a wave of dread through Wen Ning. His clan would’ve never allowed him to be a cutsleeve. Never mind having feelings for the person who helped destroy them.

“Huh.” Wei Wuxian rubs his thumb over Wen Ning’s hand where it still rests on Wei Wuxian’s chest under his robes. “I had no idea.”

This game to share their wishes might have been a bad idea. How did Wen Ning end up revealing so much about himself, while he still hasn’t been offered a burden to lift from Wei Wuxian’s shoulders?

Wen Ning does something with his throat reminiscent of swallowing and musters up the courage to say, “I was actually surprised because…” then trails off, losing the boldness as quickly as it came.

What use is this? Even if he coaxes Wei Wuxian into talking about Hanguang-Jun, what can Wen Ning do to fix the situation? He isn’t even sure of precisely what Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-Jun have between them.

But maybe just talking about it will make Wei Wuxian feel better, the way Wen Ning had felt better by telling Jiejie about the times he had been bullied. He couldn’t undo the damage of those memories, but he had felt better sharing them.

Yet, what right does Wen Ning have to know about Wei Wuxian’s feelings?

Wei Wuxian waits, and when Wen Ning doesn’t continue, he begins lightly tapping the back of Wen Ning’s hand. “Because what?”

“I just didn’t expect you to want to kiss a lady.”

“How can you be so sure?” Wei Wuxian asks playfully. “You know, the whole world thinks I have a harem of dead brides up here. I’m truly insatiable, Wen Ning.”

“I already know you’re not who people say you are.”

Wei Wuxian gives a satisfied hum. “Neither are you.”

“Maybe…maybe you’ll still have a chance,” Wen Ning says.

Wei Wuxian lets out a surprised laugh. “A chance for what? Someone to kiss this old man? I think you’d have a better chance.”

Wen Ning pulls away from Wei Wuxian. “Me? Why?”

“Look at yourself! You’re beautiful!”

It takes Wen Ning several moments to process that, as his dead heart tries to race and his bloodless veins try to rush heat into his face. “Nobody would kiss me.” He curls back into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder before he can catch a glimpse of the expression on his face. “I’m dead.” I’m something that would crawl out of the earth and scare people to death.

“You don’t act like it.” Wei Wuxian stretches out and relaxes, as if this conversation is not nerve-wracking at all. “You’re very alive. In fact, you’ll live longer than me.”

That hits Wen Ning like a blow to the stomach, squeezing out air he doesn’t even need.

He will outlive Wei Wuxian. Outlive Uncle, Jiejie, A-Yuan—

What will he do when he no longer has them?

He tries to set the thought aside. There’s no use mourning what has not passed.

But somehow, he had never realized this. That his death is a type of immortality.

Wei Wuxian seems to notice that what he’d said had made Wen Ning uncomfortable. “I’m not that easy to kill off, though. The Burial Mounds couldn’t kill me the first time, and they won’t do it again!” But the words ring empty.

Wen Ning knows that Wei Wuxian expects to die in the Burial Mounds.

How much time do they truly have? It’s a miracle that none of the Dafan Wen have died yet—even the soil they farm holds the dust of corpses. Perhaps none of them can be said to be truly alive anyway.

He focuses on Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat against his hand.

He wishes for the thrum to never stop, to always be able to return here and put his hand to Wei Wuxian’s heart and know for sure that he’s alive. Like the way he had checked on Jiejie after her meetings with Wen Ruohan to be sure he hadn’t harmed her.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he likes Wei Wuxian’s heartbeat so much. It’s evidence that Wei Wuxian is alive—steady, warm, alive against his palm.

Maybe some of Wei Wuxian’s heart runs on the resentful energy that has kept him standing since he was thrown into the Burial Mounds. Maybe some of the same blackness that’s in Wen Ning’s veins coils through his.

He pulls Wei Wuxian closer. “I will sooner die a second time than let you outlive me,” he says into the groove of Wei Wuxian’s neck. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Wei Wuxian cups Wen Ning’s face to look him in the eyes, his gaze warm but steely. “You’ve done so much for me already.”

Unsure of what to say, Wen Ning lets Wei Wuxian hold his chin in his hand.

Wei Wuxian’s lips curve into the faintest smile. “It’s my turn to protect you now.”

“Gongzi…I would still…still do anything to—"

“I know you would.” Wei Wuxian sighs. He tucks a strand of Wen Ning’s hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry. You have blood on your hands because of me.”

Chenqing’s breathy melody rises unbidden in Wen Ning’s mind, snakes between him and Wei Wuxian, as if the night breeze is playing the dizi to remind them of its presence. Wen Ning knows it lies secure in Wei Wuxian’s belt. Chenqing never leaves Wei Wuxian’s side.

Wen Ning has killed with Chenqing’s melody in his ear. Killed with his bare hands. Killed with rage summoned by beautiful songs of revenge.

He was never supposed to kill. Only heal.

But Wen Ning is an angry person. He has been angry since he was a child, since his father died, since his spirit was snatched and distorted, since he was abused by his clansmen, since his family was persecuted. He had buried all that anger under layers of timidity, where it was meant to never be disturbed.

But for Wei Wuxian, Wen Ning can be angry.

He can save his rage for when Wei Wuxian calls for it to be released, let him channel it and shape it into vengeance for his family, into a way for the people he loves to live a few more days.

He trusts Wei Wuxian with his anger, in a way he has never trusted himself.

“It’s true that I have blood on my hands,” Wen Ning says, “but it was for you and my family. Could we have escaped the Jin camp another way?”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t reply. Wen Ning looks down at the fold of Wei Wuxian’s loose collar where his hand is still settled beneath the fabric, where he feels the barely perceptible rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s breath.

“I don’t want that blood on my family’s hands,” Wen Ning continues. “They were lucky enough not to fight in the war. They shouldn’t have to kill now that the war is over. I…I was able to take that burden for them.”

For once, I was able to carry a burden rather than become a burden. Please don’t take that away from me now.

Wei Wuxian is silent for several moments. Finally, all he says is, “How much do you remember from that night?”

Wen Ning thinks, tries to recall his resurrection like he has so many times, but like always, the images slip through his fingers like every dulled sensation he can no longer feel.

“I just remember it being dark. And that I was angry.”

Wei Wuxian just nods at him, then turns his face back up toward the sky. “Wen Ning…What else do you want, but can’t have?”

“You’re supposed to tell me that for yourself.”

“I want to hear more about you first.”

“I don’t want to outlive you,” comes out of Wen Ning’s mouth before he can think about it. Something about his tone, the way his voice shakes, makes him vaguely sure this is the closest he’s ever come to confessing.

Wei Wuxian’s breath becomes shallower. He looks at Wen Ning once more, a gaze that travels down Wen Ning’s spine, tingling. Sorrow flashes in Wei Wuxian’s eyes before they brighten as he smirks.

“Do you really have so little faith in me?” he jokes. “Didn’t I just say I’m not that easy to get rid of? You’re stuck with me forever! Besides, if I don’t terrorize the world long enough to buy A-Yuan everything he wants, how powerful am I really?”

Wen Ning can’t tell if Wei Wuxian’s bantering is genuine or if he’s just trying to lighten the mood, but either way, it lifts his spirits.

He gives a small smile. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am!” Wei Wuxian says, feigning indignance. “I’m not going to give up on everybody just like that. Uncle Four and I have so many wines left to taste. How can I let him down? And what about your jiejie? It’ll take me at least ten lives to convince her that my crop choices are better than hers, and I won’t back down until I’ve won that debate.”

Wen Ning laughs.

“And as for you…” Wei Wuxian pokes Wen Ning in the center of his chest. “Well, I have to complain to eternity about you doubting my power, so there’s that. I also have to make sure you learn to sew, and that you sew a hundred presents for me.”

”That’s a lot.”

“That’s the point.”

“Don’t worry, I can do it.”

Wei Wuxian nods, trying to look so serious that he looks a bit silly. “I’ll be waiting. And also…” His smirk returns. “I need to make sure you get your first kiss.”

Wen Ning feels a little tug inside his chest. “Why—Why me? What about you?”

“Hm. Good point.” Wei Wuxian looks away, as if thinking, then says, “We can just worry about each other’s first kiss. Then everything is accounted for.”

“That…that works. Although…” Wen Ning trails off. Then it hits him that Wei Wuxian means he hasn't kissed anyone either. Wen Ning supposes it makes sense, but it still surprises him.

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“You’d give me that responsibility? To make sure that someday you…get your…” Wen Ning stops once more, too embarrassed to continue.

“Gladly.”

Wen Ning should be happy at this answer, at the warmth and certainty in Wei Wuxian’s voice, but instead he feels a pang of disappointment. How is he supposed to feel about this? It’s like he is entrusted to carry one end of a precious ribbon over a great distance, a ribbon he would wear with pride, but in the end he must tie it around someone else’s wrist.

“Too much responsibility?” Wei Wuxian asks playfully. He cocks an eyebrow. “Do you really think it’ll be so hard for me to get a kiss?”

“N-No, not at all,” Wen Ning answers, a bit too quickly.

Wei Wuxian just looks at him for a moment. “There’s actually an easy solution here. Then you won’t have to worry about helping out this hopeless case with romance,” he says, pointing at himself.

Something flutters inside Wen Ning. “What is it?”

“We could…ah…we could just do it now.”

The fluttering inside Wen Ning suddenly feels more like a bird trying to take flight.

Wen Ning wants to ask what Wei Wuxian means, because surely it isn’t what it sounds like. Wants to hear the truth so he can cut off his budding imagination, but he can barely form words.

It’s difficult to tell in the moonlight, but Wen Ning thinks he sees a faint pinkness spread across Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. Wei Wuxian’s chest is hot, his heart thrumming under Wen Ning’s fingers.

“N-Now?” is all Wen Ning can manage to say.

“Only if you want to,” Wei Wuxian rushes to say. He laughs nervously.

Wen Ning knows his own feelings. Knows that if Wei Wuxian has summoned him, he can’t say no—not with mind, not with body. But as for Wei Wuxian's feelings...

“Do you want to?” Wen Ning asks.

He expects the question to change something in Wei Wuxian’s expression, but whatever Wei Wuxian truly thinks remains trapped behind his eyes.

“I think it would be nice,” is all he says, his voice soft and fond.

Wen Ning’s stagnant nerves feel almost as alive as when resentful energy is coursing through him.

“I—I…Okay.”

Wei Wuxian swallows. Wen Ning can’t stop his gaze from following Wei Wuxian’s throat, until he’s looking down at where Wei Wuxian’s upper chest is exposed and his hand disappears under red zhongyi. Wei Wuxian’s heart is beating hard enough for both of them.

I’m lonely, it whispers. I’m so lonely…

He sees Wei Wuxian’s throat moving and only then registers that he’s speaking. “It’s alright. Relax…” Wei Wuxian murmurs. Cups the side of Wen Ning’s face. “Can you close your eyes for me?”

Wen Ning’s view of Wei Wuxian blurs as he closes his eyes, until he’s left with only the impression of the heat and solidness of Wei Wuxian’s body pressed against his. He has a distant thought to count Wei Wuxian’s heartbeats as he waits, but finds himself unable to count. He waits longer, the impossibility of their situation rooting deeper and deeper in his thoughts until he wonders if Wei Wuxian has changed his mind.

Then a quivering warmth against his lips.

Wen Ning can only just sense the way their lips glide softly against each other, but he could be content with that forever.

As if Wei Wuxian has suddenly realized something, his hand trails down Wen Ning’s neck and finds the collar of his robes, gripping it. They kiss harder, more passionately. This, Wen Ning can truly feel.

Wei Wuxian has gripped his collar before. Once in Lotus Pier as it was burning, once in Yiling when Wen Ning brought him there to hide. Both had been expressions of distrust.

Is this an expression of trust instead?

Other than Wei Wuxian himself, perhaps what Wen Ning has wanted most is his trust.

Now he has both.

By his side, in his arms.

Pressed to his lips...

* * *

With Wei Wuxian asleep and curled into his shoulder, Wen Ning looks up at the stars. From this spot, he can see the moon through the trees. It’s a bright half-moon. Not round enough to be full, not whittled enough to be a smiling sliver. Just a white circle cut clean in half.

Overcome by the closest he can come to drowsiness, Wen Ning’s mind wanders, past memories with Wei Wuxian blending into teenage fantasies blending into the moment they kissed.

Wei Wuxian has never been someone who hesitates.

Did he hesitate before kissing Wen Ning?

Did he ask Wen Ning to close his eyes so he wouldn’t see the moments of indecision in his face before he leaned in?

It reminds Wen Ning of the way he will never know what Wei Wuxian looked like before he put his lips to Chenqing, the way he will never know what Wei Wuxian thought before bringing him back into the world.

The time waiting for Wei Wuxian’s lips to meet his had felt like ages, but maybe it was only a second. Maybe, even for Wen Ning, he has never hesitated.

But maybe it doesn’t matter. Everything Wei Wuxian begins, he throws himself into whole-heartedly. If he had hesitated, Wen Ning had not felt it, had not seen it.

“We can do this again,” Wei Wuxian had said. “As long as you want to…”

Wen Ning tries to find constellations in the stars scattered across the dark cobalt sky. Trees cover parts of the constellations, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze but never parting enough to reveal everything. Wen Ning connects what dots of light remain, forming new constellations in his mind.

He counts Wei Wuxian’s sleeping heartbeats.

* * *

“I’m ready.”

The blood pool is to his back, and Wei Wuxian stands in front of him, eyes reflecting specks of amber light from candles stationed around the Demon Subdue Palace, their arrangement perhaps the only semblance of organization in the cave.

But despite the copious amounts of candles, something about this cave sucks away their orange glow. Like the darkness stretches out fingers to dampen the string of lights like dampening the vibrations of a guqin cord. Wen Ning isn’t sure where all the light goes. Maybe into the blood pool. Maybe into Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation devices.

Today Wei Wuxian seems bright enough to make up for the cave’s hungry darkness. There’s a levity in the way he shuffles through the talismans in his hands. A spring in his steps as he paces around Wen Ning to place talismans on him, his steps bouncy despite how his joints must creak with stiffness.

It’s so much like Wei Wuxian. Always at his happiest when about to help someone.

Wen Ning tries to soak in the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s nimble fingers pressing the talismans onto his robes, but it’s a quick, light sensation. Just when he thinks he's starting to feel it more fully, Wei Wuxian finishes, drumming his fingers along Wen Ning’s shoulder as he slips around to stand in front of him again.

“I’m just about ready, too,” Wei Wuxian says.

He strokes his chin, looking Wen Ning up and down approvingly. Wen Ning knows it’s merely for the placement of the talismans, but his helpless mind imagines that the approval is of him, of his cracked skin and deadweight body. The fondness in Wei Wuxian’s eyes reminds him of that night in the forest, and his body tries to shiver, clinging to a reflex that barely responds.

“Now, the last addition.” Wei Wuxian flits away and returns as quickly as he left, holding out a stone tablet with red fulu writing, perhaps the same tablet that started this entire project. “Press this against your chest. Try to align its pulse with where your heart is.”

Wen Ning can easily find the exact location of his heart without a pulse to guide him—if he couldn’t do that by now, Jiejie would surely make him copy every medical text all over again. But with his dull hands, finding the exact source of the pulse of resentful energy in the tablet is another matter. He can sense something, but not where it comes from.

He takes his best guess, and holds the center of the tablet over his heart. Wei Wuxian seems to notice his unsureness, and checks the position of the tablet, the dance of his fingers on Wen Ning’s hand and robes like a fleeting breath.

“This should be enough,” Wei Wuxian says. “The problem before was that just conducting resentful energy through the tablet wasn’t holistic enough…the spiritual energy in these talismans, and the energy from xue in the blood pool behind you, should help to mimic a living heart more closely.”

Wen Ning nods. Guilt still nips at him, telling him not to let Wei Wuxian continue his experiments. But life with Wei Wuxian is nothing if not continual surrender.

Wei Wuxian brings Chenqing to his lips and begins to play. There’s a brief flash of red in his eyes before he closes them. Tendrils of resentful energy snake around him, like a black spiderweb being spun in the air. The dark wisps begin to reach for Wen Ning.

Chenqing’s song is constantly changing, but held together by a steady rhythm. The melody brushes against Wen Ning, shaping him, like water eroding rocks. On the back of his neck, he feels thick, warm energy from the blood pool, muggy and oppressive on his skin.

The red lettering on the talismans begins to glow. The tablet pulses harder against his chest, reaching inside him, tugging him taut from the center like pulling a needle through a stitch.

Pressure claws at his throat, a phantom sensation of choking. He closes his eyes and gasps for air he doesn’t need.

Every time Wei Wuxian experiments on him, he wonders if it’s anything similar to what it felt like to be resurrected by him. If the fear and strangely blissful pain throttling through his nerves is what he woke up to. It’s a thought he returns to over and over, like a ritual for something sacred.

The dizi song fades, and Wen Ning notices that he has been making low growling noises in the back of his throat. The last sound escapes him, resonant with almost a pleading tone, and he opens his eyes.

The red glow in Wei Wuxian’s eyes hasn’t quite faded. His fingers are still positioned over Chenqing. “Feel anything?”

Wen Ning takes a moment to shake himself out of his daze, then removes the tablet and presses his hand against his heart.

Nothing.

He feels the groove of his neck, slides his hand under his robes and feels his bare chest, touches his neck again.

He considers lying and saying that he does feel a pulse, but Wei Wuxian slips a hand under his robes and steals his voice out of his mouth. Wei Wuxian remains completely still, his brow knit. Then his eyes light up.

“It worked! I feel it!” He grabs Wen Ning’s hand and guides it to where his own had just lay. “Here, feel, it’s right here. It worked!”

Wen Ning thinks he can feel a faint fluttering under his fingers. He can’t tell if the pulse is weak or his own sense of touch is too dull to capture it, but what matters is it’s there—a sliver of life inside him, another resurrection at Wei Wuxian’s fingertips.

“Wei-gongzi, thank—”

Wei Wuxian shushes him and wraps his arms around him, pressing his ear to Wen Ning’s chest. If his were a true living heart, Wen Ning is sure his heartbeat would turn into something more like firecrackers. He considers resting his hands on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, but that might seem like he’s trying to push Wei Wuxian away, so he hangs his arms limply at his sides, wondering how he should even react.

“Sounds nice,” Wei Wuxian says. “Strong and steady yet mellow. Quite fitting.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Told you I could do it!” Wei Wuxian pulls away and pats his chest, then holds his hand there, grinning. “I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Maybe only a few hours or a few days, and I’ll have to restart it, but that’s not bad! Your, ah…” His smile doesn’t disappear, but it fades a bit, tightening. “The way you died…that stake…it damaged your organs. So you might need a little more help to keep your heart running.”

Something inside Wen Ning lurches at the mention of his death. If the agony of dying with a Spirit-Attraction Flag pierced through his chest was what allowed him to be with Wei Wuxian again, to finally have the strength to protect his family and live with them for a few more months, then the nausea brought forth by the memory is worth it. It was all worth it.

“That’s okay,” Wen Ning says. “You don’t need to restart it another time. Just this once is enough.”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head at him. Then he knits his brow, as if a thought just arrested him. “You can’t feel it though?”

“I can.”

“But how much?”

“Enough.”

Wei Wuxian steps back and crosses his arms, Chenqing’s red tassel swinging slightly, as if waving at Wen Ning. He cocks an eyebrow. “Then we’ll just have to get your heart rate up.”

Wen Ning is not sure if he likes that idea, but it sounds reasonable. He thinks of the way his heart raced when training with his clan, when attempting an archery shot while others were watching, when building his arm strength like Jiejie told him to so he wouldn’t be bullied as easily. He doesn’t quite miss those moments, but he does miss being able to feel them fully.

“Okay,” Wen Ning says, and drops to the ground to do a rapid set of push-ups.

“Not like that!” Wei Wuxian says through a surprised laugh.

Wen Ning stops at the top of a push-up and looks up. “What should I do instead?”

“Stand up.” Wei Wuxian waves lazily, gesturing for him to stand, so Wen Ning rises to his feet. Wei Wuxian combs Wen Ning’s hair with his fingers, putting it back into place. “Physical exertion is too easy for you now, that’s not going to work.”

Wen Ning lets out a tiny “Oh.” The entire situation is beginning to feel much too embarrassing, like the first few times Wei Wuxian had insisted on experimenting on him.

“Resentful energy is much more responsive to emotions than it is to the movement of your body,” Wei Wuxian explains.

A black wisp rises from Chenqing. Wei Wuxian holds a finger over the dizi, and the nebulous tendril of resentful energy snakes around his finger, as if caressing him. He twirls his finger in the air, stroking the black coil, and shoots a satisfied glance at Wen Ning.

Wen Ning finds himself oddly…affected by the sight. A warm, hungry buzz grows inside him, more imagination than any real bodily response, but stimulating all the same. The knowledge that what runs through his veins is resentful energy, the same energy as that black sliver coiled around Wei Wuxian’s finger, does nothing to calm him.

“What…what emotion do I need to feel?”

Wei Wuxian smiles. To Wen Ning’s surprise, the smile is gentle and caring, perhaps even rueful, rather than sharp with mischief. The smile he gives before he is about to reshape Wen Ning.

“Just hold still,” Wei Wuxian says.

He cups Wen Ning’s chin. The resentful energy in his hand disperses and swirls around them, framing their faces.

Wei Wuxian leans in and kisses him. Wen Ning’s heart leaps up through his chest.

Their lips glide against each other for longer than he had expected. The warm buzz inside him spreads to his fingertips when Wei Wuxian’s tongue enters his mouth for the briefest moment, then buzzes stronger when he longs to feel it again.

Wei Wuxian pulls away. He lets go of Wen Ning’s chin, resting his hand on his shoulder instead. “Did it work?”

Wen Ning’s pulse is practically thrumming in his ears by now. He’s grateful that he doesn’t have real blood, because his face would be flushed.

“It worked,” Wen Ning manages to stammer out.

“Xian-gege!” A small voice calls from outside the cave.

Wei Wuxian widens his eyes and exchanges glances with Wen Ning, his face reddening. Stifling a laugh, he folds his hands behind his back and takes a step away from Wen Ning. “Who’s there?”

A-Yuan comes tottering inside, moving a bit too fast and making Wen Ning tense his muscles in preparation to stop him from falling over. He latches onto Wei Wuxian’s leg and looks up at him with round eyes.

“Do you have official business for me?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“Qing-jiejie says one of the special lanterns went out.”

Wei Wuxian had created red lanterns to light the paths of their settlement and also divert hungry spirits from entering their homes, drawing them like moths to a flame to be discarded every morning. The only problem is that one of them is inconveniently placed and falls over quite often.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head. “And who knocked it over this time?”

A-Yuan looks away. “Qing-jiejie says it’s a secret.”

“I can’t fix the lantern if I don’t know who knocked it over,” he lies. “It might be important.”

Looking a bit distressed, A-Yuan taps his fingers together, then breaks into a grin.

“Was it Qing-jiejie?” Wei Wuxian asks.

A-Yuan giggles and runs over to Wen Ning, hugging his leg instead.

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and clicks his tongue. He looks over at Wen Ning. “I can’t believe your jiejie has been destroying my work. We’re really going to have to scold her for this one.”

Feeling a bit sorry for the teasing his sister is about to endure, Wen Ning picks up A-Yuan and sits the boy on his shoulders. They head out of the cave and toward the troublesome pathway.

“You know,” Wei Wuxian says, “physical exertion could still help you feel your pulse, if you do enough.”

“Like what?”

“Mm…maybe running?”

Wen Ning considers it for a moment. “I think you just don’t want me to be around to side with my jiejie.”

Wei Wuxian shoots him a look of mock offense. “Wen Qionglin! How could you accuse me of such ulterior motives?”

“I would never accuse you,” Wen Ning says sincerely, in case Wei Wuxian actually did take his words to heart.

Wei Wuxian shakes his head and waves a hand. “Well, go on. Try it out.”

Wen Ning nods. He tilts his head to speak up to where A-Yuan sits on his shoulders. “A-Yuan, do you want to go for a ride?”

“Yes!”

“Ning-gege gives the best rides, doesn’t he?” Wei Wuxian claps him on the shoulder.

Wen Ning feels A-Yuan drumming on the top of his head, which he assumes means a “yes.” He carefully lowers A-Yuan from his shoulders for a piggy-back ride. Just as he’s about to set off, Wei Wuxian takes his wrist.

“Come back to the cave after. I still have a few tricks I want to try.” Wei Wuxian shows a sliver of a smile, like there’s a joke in his words.

Wen Ning wonders if this is already one of the tricks, as his heart rate climbs up once more. “Okay.”

Wei Wuxian breaks into a full smile, then whirls around and strides down the path toward the lantern. “Wen Qing! What did you do? You no longer have authority to order me to buy turnip seeds if you act like this!”

Wen Ning can faintly hear Jiejie snap back in response, her tone sharper than her typical sternness. She sounds more intimidating when she's embarrassed.

Fondness swells inside Wen Ning. For Wei Wuxian and Jiejie, for A-Yuan with his tiny hands on his shoulders.

Theirs is a life on stolen time, counted in heartbeats.

But together, they can make it last.

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, come visit me on AO3!

[dingdongitsbees]

BLACK-EYED SUSAN | LEVI X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

Chapter 12: Together

Previous - Next

Tw: attempted suicide

WC: 5.4k Ao3 link Ask to be added to the taglist! It will be updated weekly on Saturdays

Second person version (“you” pronouns) can be found here

Master List

So please hurry, leave me / I can't breathe / Please don't say you love me / 胸がはち切れそうで (my chest’s about to burst) / One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I'm on, baby / Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in

– Mitski; First love / Late Spring

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“It’s time.”

He didn’t let those words register in his brain and we both knew it. It was cruel enough for me to still be standing there, to look him in the eye before I stepped backwards into the abyss. It was cruel but I couldn’t help myself. If I was going to die, as sure of that decision as I was, I’d like to see him just one last time. If he hated me for it, hated for his best friend to look him in the eye before voluntarily leaving his life, then that was only good. It would help him get over it quicker, help him move on. I’d be dead anyway; I’d be none the wiser.

“Don’t.”

I exhaled.

“If you jump, I will hate you for the rest of my life, don’t you fucking dare.”

I cracked a little smile. “Only one of us is walking out of here Levi.”

“That doesn’t mean I should.”

“Yeah, it does,” I said softly. “This is the least I can do.”

We were in a checkmate. If he tried to run off the ledge himself then I’d meet the ground before he got there. If he tried to get to me to pull me away, it would only be the same. His only option, and his weakest skill, was talking. And he wasn’t going to be able to convince me that he should die instead. No point of cold logic or an abundance of emotion could change that. I’m the one that’s supposed to die.

But still. I hadn’t stepped off the roof just yet and I wasn’t sure why. No, I did, but it didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of the inevitable.

I wanted to say that three-word phrase with that stupid four-letter word. But that would be even crueller than staring him in the eyes like I was staring down the barrel of a gun.

Even I wasn’t that evil.

“I love you.”

But he was.

My lip quivered and I dropped my sight to the sandstone. How could he? His eyes softened, hitting the critical hit in such few words. If he didn’t know me as well as he did, none of this would have happened, but he did, didn’t he? So of course, despite his lack of tact and dislike of talking, he knew exactly what to say to get me to crumble.

What an asshole.

“Don’t say that.”

He took a step forward. “What? The truth? That I love you?”

I shook my head frantically, covering my ears with my hands like a child. “Fuck off.”

“You know I’ve never been good at that, brat. I love you.”

He took another step.

“Stop it.”

“I love you.” Another.

“Shut up!”

I screwed my eyes shut. Why wasn’t I jumping? I should be jumping. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t fucking do it. Why? Why? Why? Why?

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

“No you don’t.”

I cracked my eyes open. He was standing right below me, looking up to me with that look he always had.

Asshole.

“I could jump off right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

I gulped. The silence spoke louder than words. He stepped onto the ledge.

“Be careful!” I immediately held onto him with both hands, not letting him out of my grasp. He wasn’t allowed to fall. I was suddenly aware of how far above the ground we truly were. No one could survive this height, that was the plan, but he wasn’t within it.

“I’m not going home if you’re not going to be there.” He held onto my hands tightly, his thumbs brushing over the back of them. “There’s nothing left for me back home anyway.”

My eyebrows sewed together. “What are you talking about?”

“Who do we have at home?”

“What about Hanji-”

“We’ve known her for less than two weeks.”

I was stunned. He was right.

The people that were under Levi’s name in the list of people I cared about were either dead or we had known for only a blip. Hanji, Erwin, even Nick, we hadn’t properly met before two weeks ago. Was the other worth trading for that? Maybe we knew Hannes for a bit, but I couldn’t even kid myself. He was on the list just because he was someone I had talked to, which was far and in between as it was.

My stomach dropped. We really hadn’t had anyone properly in our lives since Farlan and Isabel.

But what sort of an excuse was that? Just because at that exact moment the list of people we cared about was terrifyingly short, it didn’t mean that it couldn’t grow longer for the person who left. The person, Levi, could still have a life.

But then, I thought about if it was me. If I returned, would I be happy? If I had watched his body fall from the tower? Would I be able to move on? Could I deal with everything I had been through without him there? The answer was a resounding no.

And we had always been in sync. I had force myself to accept it would be the same for him.

If I returned without his hand in mine, in all honesty, I probably wouldn’t last very long. It was impossible to know concretely, but the number of things we had experienced, the boat load of trauma dumped on us, would fall like a ton of bricks once one of us got out. And the other wouldn’t be there to help. The amount of grief I would experience would be unmatched by anything in my entire life before or to come.

No one knows the other like we do. No one knows the exact pace of the other’s heart, the exact things that make us tick and the exact things that make us feel safe. No one knows that except for us. And without the other there, we would shatter.

“Then what do we do?”

He tilted his head, his hair falling over half his face as he peered at me.

“Together.”

That lone word shook me to my very core. He had to be joking, surely. There had to be some sort of trick. But when I looked him in those steel-blue eyes, I couldn’t help but believe it.

He’d always been impulsive, always a wrong split-second decision away from death. But he had always made the right one. But now? This wasn’t something purely impulsive, it wasn’t unlikely he had just come up with it, but it was a decision he somehow came to, one I never would have thought would leave his lips.

Together.

Just like we had done everything the in the past years. Where one was, the over was always close by, even here. Maybe that’s why he came in the first place past the reasoning of needing to protect me. It just hadn’t made sense for us to be separated. Where one goes, the other always follows.

Even into the arms of death.

So, we’d face it like we’d faced everything else. Dying was just another challenge for us. Just another room to walk into. It was undoubtedly stupid, but we’d never been ones to be logical when it came to the other. I wouldn’t have an injured leg, he wouldn’t have volunteered, we wouldn’t have kissed each other. I never would have sat on that bench if I had listened to that logic within me, and he wouldn’t have let me stay.

We were both so stupid, but what else was there to expect?

“I love you too, you fucking idiot.”

He chuckled; his lips curled up.

He leant forward and captured my lips with his. He enveloped my waist with his arms while I cupped his hard jaw.

We really were those cliche star-crossed lovers huh?

When he pulled back, he wiped my cheeks with his thumb, taking away tears I hadn’t even realise had spilt. In his lower lashes were some droplets too, ones he didn’t bother to blink away.

Fucking idiots, that’s what we were.

I leant my forehead on his, closing my eyes so all I could feel was him and the breeze. It was just us in this fucked up world.

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.

We both chanted it like our life depended on it, tearing those words from our system, hoping it would make up for the years in the past and future we never got to say it. Saying it on loop like if we said it one more time the universe would go easy on us for once. But the universe had never been kind, why would it start now?

In front of me was the boy I had spent the best years of my life with, we had grieved, rebelled, laughed and held each other. He was the boy that held my hand when I was scared to fall, the boy that wasn’t afraid of anything, the boy whose kindness hid under his skin to give to those who deserved it. He invaded every inch of my life and soul and I kept him there as long as I could. Levi was the boy I loved. Levi was my best friend.

Was this really the right thing to do?

“Ready?” he asked, holding my face in the palm of his hand, like I was the most precious thing in the world.

I nodded. “Thank you for letting me spend my life with you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I reached out a hand and caressed the petal behind his ear. Finding those flowers felt like a lifetime ago. Those were different people on that hill. He blinked slowly, letting me drink in his presence one last time.

It would never be enough, even if we lived until we were one hundred, it would never be enough. But it was time, nevertheless.

It was time to say goodbye.

I wasn’t sure who was right anymore, me or Hanji. She was probably ripping her hair out while watching the screen, not wanting to believe her eyes. We were just another pair of tributes, she’d live. Maybe she regretted it now, knowing those three words had caused all this.

It was time to go.

I took a deep breath, not looking anywhere but his eyes.

“See you soon,” I said, giving the biggest smile I could muster.

“See you on the other side.”

I kissed him on the forehead.

“Three,” he whispered.

“Two.”

I was about to lean into the void when the speakers crackled into life and the panicked voice of Floch filled the arena.

“And- and here we have the winners of the 67th Hunger Games!”

We froze. The whites of our eyes expanding forever.

Huh?

We looked to the sky, looking for a mutt, a projection in the sky, something, anything that refuted those words. Nothing came.

A laugh escaped me, and then another, and soon I was sobbing on the ledge of the building that was supposed to be my grave.

Levi quickly pulled us back onto the roof, getting to the centre of the tower like being ten metres from the edge was risky enough. His arms constricted my body, arms like chains around me as he buried his face into my shoulder.

I let laughs rip from me as fat tears streamed down my face.

We got to live. We got to fucking live.

I held onto his back for dear life, my fingernails digging into his skin probably causing welts of blood to erupt but neither of us cared. The fact that he could bleed was a miracle enough.

He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, looking utterly fucking bewildered, and kissed me as hard as he could, smashing our souls together.

We got to fucking live.

He held me by the waist and spun, letting my feet fly into the air. We spun and spun while we cackled, our unrestrained joy taking up the space around us.

We got to fucking live.

.

The trip back to the Capitol was a whirlwind. We got picked up by a hovercraft, pulled up by masked peacekeepers, and we were immediately deferred to a medical team on board. We sat side by side, hand in hand, as we were looked over and treated, his shoulder and my leg being looked at.

I had forgotten all pain until then, and it finally crashed down as soon as my leg got the medical attention it so desperately needed. I bit into his good shoulder as they put syringes and random shit into my leg, prepping me for surgery when we got back. His shoulder was thankfully fine, only a better diet needed to make a full recovery, something he could now get.

It still hadn’t really kicked in yet. The whole thing felt like a dream. None of it made sense. None of it could be real.

We landed on the top of a skyscraper, now on the roof of the Capitol building we had left a week ago. I was wheeled with haste to the elevator, Levi right on my heels. No one dared to tell him to stay away.

I was pushed through the corridors on the medical centre’s floor and pushed right into a crowd of surgeons and nurses already prepped. They then attempted to get Levi to stay outside the door, but he refused, the Capitol had taken me from him once, he wasn’t going to let them do it a second time no matter how irrational it seemed. They settled for him to sit at the back of the room with a mask on.

I was soon swallowed by darkness as the anaesthesia coursed through my lungs. The last thing I saw was unmoving eyes glued to my face.

I don’t know how long it was until I woke up, light eventually streamed through my eyelids and I winced at its harshness. White light had never been particularly welcoming. When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t just one person I saw waiting for me, but four.

Levi hadn’t even changed yet. Blood was still caked in his hair from my failed attempt of cleaning it out. His stained clothing from the arena still stuck to his form, he hadn’t moved from the room since we came into it. My limp hand was already in his grasp as he sat by my bed, but standing next to him was Hanji, Erwin, and Nick. All three, even the latter, looking overjoyed.

After exploding with thankfulness and happiness and tears, they ripped into us for being idiots despite how tried we clearly were. Levi tried to get them to shut up, but I just laughed. My giggles filled the room, bouncing off sterilised walls and into any passer-by’s ears. The sound of euphoria.

As they smiled at us though, Hanji gnawed her lip, trying to not let whatever was building up in her mind come forward. I was too tired to ask, she’d tell us when she thought it was time, whatever it was. All I wanted to do now was sleep, though not before ordering Levi to go off and have a shower first.

The next day went in and out of consciousness, doctors occasionally came in to check on my progress. I didn’t really care to be honest. They could cut off my leg if they wanted to and I wouldn’t stop them.

I pulled Levi onto the bed around noon, and we laid together, getting the sleep we had desperately missed. The sleep not plagued by fear. We could have been in that ward for hours or days I wouldn’t be able to say. The only thing that gave us a semblance of routine would be when the lights turned off, but I’m not even sure how many times.

Neither of us really talked aside from when doctors or the other three came to visit. We just wanted to hold each other. We hadn’t been hit by nightmares yet, but they were sure to come.

One time when Hanji came in, she asked a question.

“You two definitely don’t have any people you care about at home right?”

We narrowed our eyes and shook our heads.

“No family members? No friends or just general people you were close to?”

We shook our heads again.

“Maybe Hannes?” I said, “But he’s a peacekeeper if that’s relevant?”

She exhaled, her body visibly relaxing. “No, it should be fine then.”

“Hanji?” Levi asked, sitting up.

She swallowed looking between the two of us, unsure whether or not to unload the streams of thoughts running through her mind. She made a decision.

“Not anyone could have pulled off what you guys did without consequences. If you two had people at home…” she paused, looking away, “If you two had people at home, you certainly wouldn’t have got off scot-free.”

I hadn’t even thought about it. Zeke’s face forced itself into my brain, staring down at me like he had during the parade. He was a callous and cruel man, there was no way he didn’t want us dead. To the president, our survival was a blatant fuck you to everything he had built despite the fact it wasn’t our intention. My blood went cold. If we had people back home, they would be dead, no doubt about it.

“You two are the Capitol sweethearts so you’ll be okay. For now.”

“For now?” Levi pressed.

She was at the door, hand on the frame. She looked back over her shoulder. She looked so tired. It was hard to imagine she only barely scraped a few years on us.

“Just…just be careful.”

And with that, she left.

.

After a few days I was given the all-good and was discharged from the tiny hospital. We went up to the penthouse that we had spent a week in, but it all felt so unfamiliar. I kept squinting my eyes, anticipating sand that never came. I looked to where it seemed the most comfortable on the ground instead of the various pieces of furniture around. It was weird.

It was uneventful for about a day before we were told about the victor ceremony. We’d get our “prize” symbolically through a crown I didn’t care for from the man I did not want to see. I was a ball of anxiety as the date crept closer. Levi seemed unbothered to most, but he was clearly on edge ever since that conversation with Hanji. We had to be perfect, we had to be the most complacent and submissive victors in history otherwise we were screwed. We couldn’t have Zeke hate us more than he probably already did. Not to mention it was Levi’s idea to die together that lead to Floch’s dumb decision to let us both live, and Levi had never been the most agreeable person on earth.

He didn’t want to mess it up for us after everything.

I had asked about Floch, half curious to see if he had been secretly executed, but Zeke had decided to be merciful. Hanji said the gamemaker had looked harrowed and gaunt. He had been expecting to die too.

.

The morning of the ceremony was almost as stressful as the game countdown. Each event was counting down to our possible doom if we didn’t act perfectly. Erwin had us in black garments, flowy and light to keep in tune with our district yet to make us look softer and more event appropriate.

Levi’s muscles were stone, he hardly ate anything. I had to force feed him to eat something, but even then he was hesitant.

We went down the elevator, our three-person back up in front of us, ready to take on the world on our behalf. We had done enough. We had been through enough. Hopefully Zeke could indulge that sentiment.

Directors waited for us in front of the giant arch. In another life we had gone through on a chariot with clothes that lit on fire. That was someone else.

A single pitch-black chariot with pitch-black horses to match was on standby for us. The horses shuffled around, faces being stroked by keepers and hand fed grain. I bit my tongue before I accidentally asked where the other eleven were. It was just us now.

I should have been thankful it was twenty-two dead not twenty-three, but it was hard to swallow. It should be zero, but the universe isn’t that kind, especially not to people whose names go on paper slips.

That wasn’t how things worked here.

We made our way over to the chariot hand in hand, the other three speaking to everyone on our behalf. Nick had been surprisingly leading the charge, getting the exact timings and instructions in order to relay them to us himself. Something had changed, just slightly, while we were in that arena. I wondered if he noticed it himself.

We were thankful though, not wanting to speak to anyone involved in the process of our attempted execution. We could only trust those three. It didn’t matter if our names had been the only thing exchanged on every Capitol show between every news anchor and host, it didn’t matter that they were screaming our names and throwing yellow flowers outside the giant arch. They had wanted us dead. They did not get our affection.

The horses were alright though, I patted the back of one on top of the mobile platform. Their hair was brushed and shampooed to perfection as if anyone would properly see it or touch it except for us.

Horses got better treatment than us. I couldn’t even smile at my own joke.

The doors to the arch began to swing open and we stood up straight, looking ahead, as the screams tore through the air. They were so fucking loud. I had heard too many screams, my own and others over the past few days, I didn’t need to hear more.

Just shut up.

I wanted to run into the audience and throttle them, get them to understand we weren’t untouchable characters. We were fucking people. We were kids and they had sent us to die. Why couldn’t they fucking get it?

“Do you think they know?”

“Know what?”

“That what they’re doing is wrong? I mean obviously people like Zeke do but… what about just the normal people? Do they know?”

“They should, but no.”

Fucking idiots. Blind and unthinking idiots.

The chariot lurched forward, and his hand laced with mine. Show time. When we passed out of the arch, I stretched my grin until my cheeks began to ache.

Please don’t kill us.

I waved to everyone around us as they threw objects I didn’t even bother to process as long as they didn’t come near my face. Levi peered over the crowd, trapping his scowl from protruding. His fingers tightened around mine.

Please don’t kill us.

We got to the end of road. We looked up to the giant platform that the president and his associates stood upon, staring down at us. Zeke caught my eye and I smiled even wider, my eyes crinkling.

Please don’t kill us.

We exited the chariot, grip bone crushing, as we walked up the stairs. It took all I had to not trip, to not let my mind wander as a coping mechanism. Levi kept me steady, though perhaps I was just a focal point for him.

When we got to the top, we went right to the edge of the platform like we had been told, right in front of Zeke. I wanted to throw up. The height was dizzyingly high with no barrier. It was lower than the towers in the arena, but it was even scarier. If he wanted to, Zeke could push us right off. He looked tempted, but he didn’t.

We both bowed, falling onto one knee, hesitantly letting go of the other. I stared at Zeke’s polished shoes, watching them shift across the ground. I flinched as a circle of coldness met my scalp. The crown was lighter than I expected, but the edges dug into back of my ears. I wondered if Zeke pushed down on it if could it cut my ears clean off. But he didn’t. He moved over to Levi and placed an identical silver crown on top of his head.

The crowd roared as we stood up and faced them, hands instinctually interlocking again. It was so goddamn loud. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and press my hands to my ears and scream at all of them to be quiet. But I didn’t.

Zeke raised a hand, ironically being my hero, and silencing the crowd. He held the mic to his face, his smiling face projecting across screens.

“Today, we celebrate an unforgettable and unprecedented moment in history,” he spoke, “There is not one, but two victors for the 67th Hunger Games. I’m sure no other pair deserves it more than these two right next to me.”

The crowd applauded. I wanted to punch him.

“I, and I assume many of you, learnt much watching the game this year. We learnt the importance and unrivalled power of a strong and trusting bond, a bond forged in iron over years. We learnt the power of love.”

The crowd screamed. Levi looked like he was two second from choking him out.

Zeke looked to us, a smile on his lips but pure distaste and amusement in his eyes. “You two found love in the unlikeliest of place, I hope you learn to use it well.”

His eyes studied us. I didn’t let my eyes waver. We were safe, but we were on thin fucking ice. Had he thought our relationship was an act, if he had even doubted it for a second, if he thought it was one big con as a screw over to the system, we would not be standing there.  

“My beloved citizens, can we get another round of applause for the victors of the 67th Hunger Games!”

.

When we were back inside, I gulped litres of air, desperately trying to get oxygen back into my lungs. Levi held me gently to his chest, hand rubbing my back. Who knew breathing was so hard, huh?

Hanji ran over, bottle of water in hand which we both chugged eagerly.

.

We didn’t leave each other’s sight. Never. We slept in the same bed, we ate together, we bathed together, we didn’t leave each other’s sight. For all we knew, a hitman or some undercover titan would slit our throats when we least expected it. We couldn’t die. Not yet, not anymore.

I was more certain that death was right around the corner than at any point in the arena. There’s not a designated winner in the game of life, not when Zeke was the gamemaker.

.

Hanji and Erwin had pulled every string they had to avoid us getting interviews except for Willy’s show, it was the only thing they hadn’t wrestled out of, though it was a given that we needed to go onto it.

I smoothed down Levi’s shirt backstage, fussing over him so I had something to do with my hands. He stood silently, letting me do what I needed to do.

We didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened in that arena. We hadn’t even spoken to each other about it. I didn’t need to recall the people I killed; they were all I could think about anyway. Hanji had contacted Willy a few days before the show, begging him to not focus on the murders or any of the other tributes. Surprisingly, he had agreed with no complaints.

Maybe not all of the Capitol was bad. Maybe some understood.

He had already sent over a rough run down of the questions he’d ask, but also told us that there would be an audience question time, something that was out of the production team’s control, so we’d have to be ready.

Most of the interview went smoothly as we had practiced in the penthouse. Answers bled from our mouths that we had preprepared and then practiced to make them sound spontaneous and casual. But as it dragged on, questions about what we liked in the other, fond memories, fears of confessing, were just bricks piling on top of each other, ready to collapse when it was the audience’s turn. Levi’s knuckles had gone white in his empty fist.

I took a sharp breath when a microphone was going in between the seats of Capitol watchers. Most copied in style of Willy’s, just being light-hearted, but the last did not follow the trend.

“Were you two really going to jump off the roof together?”

Everyone went silent as the audience member’s eyes peered at us. I swallowed, digesting what I needed to say.

“Well, not really, at least I hope not,” I said. Levi, Willy and everyone looked to me in confusion. “I had planned to push him back onto the roof as I fell, not sure if it would have worked, probably not, but it was the plan.”

The audience gasped melodramatically.

Willy cocked his head to the man next to me. “Levi?”

His hand was shaking, his eyes wouldn’t move from mine. “I was going to do the same thing.”

The audience laughed, Willy laughed, Zeke probably laughed.

We stared at each other wide-eyed, in utter shock as the hall erupted into cackles and giggles, incredibly overwhelming yet it was deafening silent in the centimetres between one another. We really were idiots, weren’t we?

.

The interview was the last stop on the Capitol showing. It was time to go home. Home.

Erwin and Nick came to say goodbye to us at the station. It had been blocked off from people wanting to get a glimpse of us, our “biggest fans” apparently, so we were left in relative peace as we bid farewell. Erwin brought both of us into soft hugs, his large arms cradling me. Nick shook our hands, stammering out how proud he was of us despite how annoying and disregarding of rules we were. His eyes had been red rimmed, so were Erwin’s now that I thought about it.

Hanji, Levi and I, hopped onto the train, and let the doors to the Capitol slide shut behind us with a hiss. Hoping it would be a long, long time, until we had to see it again.

Hanji left us to our own devices, letting us lounge and eat and sleep and do whatever we wanted, and we did exactly that. We had a lifetime of peace to make up for the weeks of hell. It would never be enough to make up for it.

I leant on Levi’s shoulder as I watched the trees fly by out the window, turning to an abstract green blur. “You do actually love me right?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Just wanted to make sure! Who knows, maybe you became an award-winning actor overnight.”

He flicked me on the forehead and I just laughed. I nestled my head further into the crook of his neck.

“Let’s promise to never do something like this again yeah?” I said, “You’ve given me enough heart attacks for a lifetime.”

“As long as you promise not to do anything stupid.”

“Well, we both know neither of us have been good at that.”

He huffed and crossed his arms but leant his head on mine.

The green outside looked so pretty; trees, flowers, birds, I had missed it. But what we were returning back to would not be the life we had before, for better and for worse. But it would be okay, because we were together, the other in hand like we always had.

It would be okay. It had to be.

Please.

.

[END OF BOOK ONE]

a/n: well damn we’re now at the end of the first book! i’ll be continuing the series right to end as far as i know so it’s not stopping here! thank you for the support so far i hope you all continue to enjoy it!

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[lovelyirony]

@ironmanspussy​ here we are, directly inspired by your wonderful texpost! 

King Rhodes needed a partner to rule. It was ancient law, something he hadn’t really desired to follow. But unfortunately, the lawyers are assholes and want to create a monopoly of power that he just simply hasn’t the time to dismantle if he’s to follow his ten-year policy plan.

His partner should be well-mannered, aware of high society dress codes as well as how to navigate regular, everyday wear, and be calm in times of crisis.

So begins the search.

“You’re not going to find someone you like like that,” his advisor, Carol says, laughing. “I guarantee it.”

“We’ll see,” Rhodes decides.

Oh, they saw.

They saw a lot.

Almost every single candidate is bad. Or just off, in some way.

“Rogers seemed like a nice fit,” Carol says, tapping on her clipboard.

"He was nice, not for me. A bit too much.”

“What, muscle?”

“You could say that’s a factor. He’s also just a little too take-charge-of-everything.”

“Mm, that could pose a problem later. Well, the candidates who most matched your requirements are all out.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re a very particular kind of guy, Jim. So here are the rest.”

“Send in the clowns,” Rhodes says, waving his hand in dismissal and drawing the other one to his forehead to signal a headache about to come on.

“You just sent Barnes out,” Danvers reminds him, grinning.

“Asshole.”

“I’m still getting paid!” Carol sing-songs.

-

It’s almost better. Almost. Prince Clint Barton is an impossibly good marksman, and...that’s about it. His leadership style is far different from the Rhodes kingdom needs and he admits that he almost showed up in jeans.

Well, at least there’s honesty. Rhodes could find that forgivable.

But the jeans. Good god.

-

Bruce Banner is a total sweetheart, but his constitution is quite poor and again with the fashion choices. He shows up in a very nice outfit and has a nice wit about him.

They talk at length, and Carol swears that it will go well and perhaps there will actually be a wedding by June, all things said and considered.

This is until Rhodes leads Dr. Banner out to the gardens to meet Thor, their part-time warrior and full-time gardener.

Thor is completely gone on the scientist-ruler, and there it is.

“This is supposed to be your matchmaking,” Carol reminds him, scowling. “It was going well.”

“Once he met Thor anyways, it would have been all over. You know Thor’s type. The scientists that could ruin the earth if they truly had the thought to.”

“I suppose you’re right. Next person, then. She looks promising, Empress Romanov?”

-

Natasha Romanov is a terrifying figure. Very, very terrifying.

That being said, she has excellent taste in fashion and promised to send Rhodes some reviews, but “unfortunately has her heart spoken for.”

(It’s not very unfortunate. Rhodes feared for his life.)

-

He’s about to lose it, to be completely honest. Is there seriously no one out there?

“Your last candidate, at least for this month, is Tony Stark. High-profile inventor.”

“Not royalty?”

“Essentially, he is. Dad helped create weapons, he followed with protection and medical detail. He usually doesn’t agree to meet, so you’ll have to ask him why.”

“Refuse to meet royalty?”

“People.”

-

Tony Stark did, in fact, refuse to meet people. In general, people were not his strong suit and he saw no point to marriage.

“If you marry well, you get more access to resources for your reacting thing,” Pepper says.

“My reactor. I’ve told you that a million times.”

“And I’ve forgotten it a million and one. But if you meet Rhodes, he’s probably your best chance of not marrying a total shit royal.”

“And why is that?”

“Searching online for your answer is free, I am not. Your bill will be sent to your inbox.”

Tony stares after Pepper. She’s too damn capable.

He sighs to himself.

He does need more funding for his projects. His father cut him off completely and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, Tony’s not going to charge obscene prices just to keep himself afloat.

So...marrying a royal. Not the best plan in the world, especially given Tony’s track record with people. Sure, he can play the part. But he just...won’t.

-

This is why Tony’s about five minutes late, cursing up a blue streak at a guard that has followed him into the hall because due to his appearance he thinks he needs to have a “check-in” with the people at the front desk for appointments, and in general? The day has been bad.

Also, Pepper forced him into “nice” clothes. While Tony can and has worn his nice clothing before, he does not like the ones that Pepper chose because they are uncomfortable, stiff, and absolutely a bit too long.

So he trips on the carpet.

“Motherfucker!”

Rhodes’ head pops away from his conversation with the chef regarding the dinner menu.

Here is a man with probably the most intricately embroidered robes he’s ever seen on, hair that looks like it was probably not even styled, just brushed through, and had about the entirety of the guard behind him asking him about an appointment time.

Obviously, he’s the most attractive man Rhodes has ever seen in his life.

“And who are you?” he asks.

“Tony. Stark. Mechanic and inventor. Um, you talked to Pepper about me? I think I’m in your circle of potential candidates for ruling. It’s totally fine if you kick me out, I kind of scuffed your carpet.”

“We need new carpet anyway,” Carol says. “We’ll disregard your entrance for now, Stark.”

“Tony, please.”

“Tony,” Carol says slowly, smiling. “You will be walking around the gardens with King Rhodes, pausing for dinner.”

“Cool.”

Rhodes has to stop from laughing. Cool. He’s already a fan of this.

Carol leans over to him, whispering in his ear.

“I thought you wanted someone who had a cool head, not someone like that.”

“Well, I can be wrong every once in a while.”

“Or more.”

“Every once in a while,” Rhodes reiterates. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this.”

“Hm.”

-

Walking through a garden with a stranger is not as smooth as one would expect. Rhodes isn’t exactly well-versed in asking people what their plans are for the future, and if they are amenable to perhaps marriage.

“What do you do for fun?” Tony asks.

He’s sort of taken aback at the question.

“Pardon me?”

“What do you do for fun?” he repeats. “Like, do you cook? Sew? Duel with your rivals? What do you do for fun?”

Well. He has to think for a moment.

“I go on runs.”

“That is not fun. Don’t tell me that that’s what’s fun for you.”

“What, can’t run?”

“I don’t run, there’s a difference. I’ll run when something’s chasing me.”

“And yet you won’t have training, like I will.”

“Did you forget my trade, Your Imminence?” Tony asks, voice mocking him.

It’s honestly refreshing. Rhodes doesn’t like it when people are so serious around him, so afraid to disappoint.

“An inventor? You’re going to invent a way to run better?”

“To fly, honey. Honestly...”

-

After that, it’s a dead-set decision from Rhodes.

He offers his hand in marriage, as well as the crown. Tony blinks.

“You haven’t even seen me take a turn in the ballroom.”

“It’s either going to be wildly entertaining or surprising, and I can’t wait for either.”

-

Tony enters his own room, in a panic.

This has to go well. He has to dress to impress.

“Pepper, he’s holding a party for our engagement. I have to dress nicely.”

“You know how to do that, I don’t know why you’re telling me that.”

“There are so many factors. Do you know anyone who can embroider his family crest on any shoes? What colors I’m meant to do? Oh my god, we have to fuse the colors together. This is going to be a disgrace. I’ll be exiled to be a hermit in the forest who relies on bark for sustenance, and this--”

“Can you. Potentially, maybe, chill? It’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but right now I’m imagining having to go to war because I didn’t wear the right color of red, so...”

“You are literally the worst person alive.”

“False, we both know Justin Hammer and out of the two of us, I think you’d want to date me more.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“Just practical, Pep. Just practical. Now help me shade match Rhodey’s red.”

“He’s Rhodey now?”

“In my head? Yes. I don’t like Rhodes, I absolutely will not call him Jim until we both hit seventy years old.”

“Better let him know that.”

-

Rhodes gets a text from Tony.

so a.) your new nickname from me is rhodey. don’t question it, honeybear. Anyways, would you say your royal family color is closer to garnet-red or blood-red?

Rhodey blinks. He likes the nickname. It’s different. He has to show the text to Carol.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“Let me google it.”

She analyzes the results, frowning.

“I’m thinking blood-red.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Why does he want to know the color?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

we’ve decided it matches closer to blood-red, Tones. Why do you ask?

Tony blinks. Other nickname. Interesting. He likes it.

my outfit choice relies heavily on this.

He leaves it at that, grinning as he puts his phone away.

Rhodey is laughing. He’s excited to see his husband-to-be.

-

Tony knows he looks damned good. The whole outfit is incredible. Red with gold stitching throughout, and he got his hair to cooperate to be artfully messy instead of just messy.

“I’m surprised at you, you clean up well,” Pepper teases. “You ready to go and make your debut?”

“As ready as ever,” Tony says, fixing the chain around his neck. The gold glints off the lights, and he knows he’s about to be the best dressed person in the room, with perhaps the exception of Rhodey.

He knows that most people are surprised that he’s the one that King Rhodes has decided to marry. He’s not known for being a particularly polite royal. In fact, he has told multiple members of royalty to “get fucked or get out of my way” when they want him to build something that he refuses to build.

So he’s not exactly the perfect choice. But his outfit is still the best in the room.

“Hi gorgeous,” Rhodey says, smiling. “You look incredible.”

“Well I do know how to make an entrance, after all,” Tony says. “You’ll find out this is only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Well then, I’m in for treats all my life,” Rhodey says. “How are you tonight, Tones?”

“Doing well, finished up working on one of the cars for Thor today.”

“Wait, you’re the one who’s refinishing it? He hasn’t been able to shut up about it for weeks! I was the one who used to look at it.”

“You like fixing up cars?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

-

From there, conversation flows. They understand each other well, laugh at the same jokes, and agree on cake flavors.

It’s not love, not yet. But they’re getting there.

-

It is officially love when Tony steals Rhodey from his royal duties to get a cheeseburger.

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of the throne, don’t you think?” Tony says, grinning over his sunglasses.

“For a cheeseburger? Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“That’s because you’re all fancy and posh, I bet you don’t even know the f-word,” Tony says.

“Fuck you,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony gasps. “The king knows a curse word? Oh my lord! What...shame you bring to your family!”

Rhodey laughs, and it’s in this moment that he realizes that spending the rest of his days with Tony is potentially the best possible option in the world.

“I’m so glad we’re getting married,” he says. Tony stills.

“You...you are?”

“You’re the best thing to happen to me, I think,” Rhodey says, taking a sip of water as if he hasn’t just said the sweetest thing Tony’s ever heard. “And I hope that I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I mean I don’t know, the AC/DC reunion tour was pretty sick...” Tony says, grinning. “I’m kidding. Rhodey, I think we’re gonna be a good team. And I’m glad that I get to be with you.”

-

Their wedding is the talk of the year. Literally no one can shut up about it, but maybe that’s because Tony accidentally showed up late because he was inventing and had wild hair and maybe a stray grease-stain on his forehead.

Rhodey just grinned.

“You better not be late to the reception.”

“I’ll try my best. You know how I am.”

They kiss, and Rhodey sends him into a deep dip. Tony laughs into the kiss, and it becomes one of the most well-known photographs of the year.

-

Sure, Rhodey didn’t exactly get all of the qualifications that he wanted out of his ruling partner. Tony is absolutely not calm in times of crisis, and stress-bought novelty socks.

He more than once told a difficult business partner to “absolutely get fucked up on a Thursday, see if I give a singular shit when my husband is ten times better than you,” and also has a certain unawareness of some of his public outfit choices. (Hello sweatpants with holes in them and a striped hoodie.)

But Tony makes the best coffee ever, always gets Rhodey flowers from the supermarket, and is perhaps the most compassionate man he’s ever met.

So not a bad trade-off.

They lay in bed together, Rhodey looking over his obscenely trashy detective novels with his reading glasses, and Tony battling Pepper in a word search competition online.

“I love you,” Tony says out of nowhere, smiling. He presses a kiss to Rhodey’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Rhodey responds, patting Tony’s thigh.

He makes a squawk of outrage as Rhodey’s head turns from his book, grinning.

“You better give me a kiss to make up for that,” Tony demands. Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Of course, drama queen.”

“Drama queen? I was told by the love of my life that I was ‘okay’ after one year of marriage? And I am supposed to be unaffected? Absolutely unacceptable, I think I will fling myself into a pit in the ocean, and--”

Rhodey cuts him off with a kiss.

“Or not. Not could definitely work.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Satisfied, Part 42

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~~~

A few hours later, they were found curled up on the couch together. Marinette had found a nice place on his lap and now sat there, head resting against his chest as she put the finishing touches on Chloe’s outfit. Tim was working as well, arms slung around her waist, head resting on top of hers to see his keyboard. Occasionally, they’d pull away to chug one of the ten cups of coffee they’d stockpiled before getting right back into position.

The bats were… not prepared to find them like this. Damian groaned and walked out, muttering something about how gross they were. Jason was absolutely ecstatic, apparently seeing this as proof that Marinette was definitely going to be in the family. Dick looked a bit horrified (probably because, in his eyes, Tim had started dating Marinette basically minutes after Ladybug had admitted to having a crush on him). Bruce, however, wasn’t even paying attention to the couple themselves.

He walked over and picked up their coffee trays, much to their dismay.

“Dad, why?” Whispered Tim, who had never looked so betrayed.

“Your caffeine intake doubles when you’re together.”

“Probably because there’s two of us,” said Marinette simply, not even bothering to look up from her sewing.

“No, you both drink twice as much.”

Both of their hands paused what they were doing and they glanced at each other. Sure, they knew that their intake increased when they were around each other. They’d be stupid not to notice, considering they enjoyed each other’s company and wanted to be awake for it. But doubling their already probably (definitely) unhealthy amount was…

“I’m glad you understand. I’m cutting you kids off.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Would you like a reminder of what happened last time one of you guys tried to get between us and coffee?”

There was a collective wince. That prank war had not been the desired effect, and honestly they were beginning to suspect that their caffeine usage afterwards had actually increased.

Marinette, however, snickered. “Hey, sweetie, wanna move in with me?”

Tim’s eyes widened and then a grin broke across his face. “Sure, I’ll pay off your apartment.”

“Great. We’ll need to go get some more furniture this weekend, then.”

“Good, the place looks a bit plain. I’ll clear Saturday.”

“Woah woah woah sloW DOWN I THINK WE’VE SKIPPED A FEW STEPS,” said Dick.

“Desperate times,” said Marinette simply. She tipped her head back and smiled as Tim pecked her lips. Then they looked at Bruce, who was getting paler by the second. After a minute of him not relenting, she pulled out the big guns: “How do you feel about kids?”

“I’d consider it.”

Bruce quickly gave them their drinks back. “Maybe wait on the kids for a few years.”

Marinette and Tim looked at each other, then laughed as they each took a cup. “Please,” he said, “I’m not having kids.”

“Why not?” Complained Dick. “I want at least one of us to have kids! Jason and Damian are hopeless! You’re my last chance!”

Jason nodded his agreement, then narrowed his eyes and sent his brother a glare.

“No way. Kids are a lot,” said Tim, and she nodded her agreement.

“If you want kids so much then have some of your own.”

Dick scoffed and shook his head. “You three were enough, thanks.”

“Then why --?” Began Marinette, but she was cut off by his brothers complaining.

Bruce sighed and pressed his hands to his temples and walked out.

Dick crossed his arms over his chest. “At least consider having kids?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and waved him off. He gave her a pout and she made the motion again. This time he listened, sticking his tongue out at her on the way out like the mature adult that he was.

Now it was just the couple and Jason, who looked conflicted. “Mari, if you hurt him -- no, Tim, if you hurt her -- no… hm… if either of you hurt each other I’ll kill myself.”

“Jason, no --.”

“Bean, I’m breaking up with you temporarily for completely unrelated reasons.”

“TIM, NO --.”

~

She smiled as she finished the last stitch and glanced up at her boyfriend. He hadn’t typed in over half an hour so she’d expected him to be asleep. Apparently not. He was glaring at nothing in particular. She raised her eyebrows and pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He blinked once and looked down at her, his face softening a little. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to keep the Rogues out without making it obvious you betrayed them.”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly and set down her work. “Even if there was a way, I don’t think it’d stop them for long. They’d just walk inside normally… if ‘normally’ included mowing down guards.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then why bother trying to think of something?”

He hesitated slightly. “Because I’d rather try and fail than do nothing and regret it later.”

She winced. She’d thought that before, so when…?

Her brain brought her back to the night she’d met him as Red Robin. They’d been four vigilantes down, Joker had broken out. Marinette had pushed the thought of it out and told herself that, with his track record, Joker would have gotten out either way. It was a flimsy excuse to avoid whatever guilt she could and, with all the hecticness of the following months, it had been enough to distract her.

But for him… The next day she’d been sent a picture of him hunched over his computer with stress lining his face. She’d brushed it off as him being stressed out because of his work, he was a CEO after all, but now that she knew he was Red Robin she was able to guess that it had been guilt.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

“I want to at least have an idea of what we’re going to do,” he said.

“But we still don’t even know what their plan is or their motives. It’ll be impossible to think of a proper way until then.”

He nodded. “And you’re going to ask soon.”

She swallowed thickly. She’d been avoiding it for a while now. Mostly because she was scared that, if she asked directly, someone (probably Harley) would figure her out and she’d be killed. Still, she nodded slightly. “I have to at some point. Planning can only get so far if we don’t know what they’re going to do.”

He nodded his agreement. “Yeah, it would be great if everyone would just tell me their plans.”

She frowned. That sounded a bit accusatory. “What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “Bean, I know you’re planning something that’s probably stupid and dangerous. And I know you’re not going to tell me, because you don’t want me to stop you.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. It was true.

He gave a small sigh of annoyance and buried his face in her hair. “Just promise it won’t be too stupid, please. Just say ‘I will probably not die’.”

“Of course,” she mumbled. “Would I ever do something like that?”

He snickered.

“I will probably not die. I promise,” she said after a bit.

She felt him smile against her hair.

~

Tim had fallen asleep, their arms wrapped around each other. She, on the other hand, was trying her hardest to stay awake. It was surprisingly difficult, despite her track record. Still, it wasn’t all that weird. Most people would find it hard to stay awake when they haven’t moved for over an hour. Especially not if they’d been awake for days on end already.

Eventually, though, all the coffee caught up to her in the worst way possible. She had to go to the bathroom, and now.

She bit the inside of her cheek and attempted to detach herself without waking him, only to feel his grip tighten. She sighed lightly. Great.

Well, she figured she’d wake him one way or another. She tipped her head up and kissed him. It took a little bit for him to respond, but eventually he kissed back, smiling. After a bit they had to pull away due to this pesky thing called air.

She smiled and reached up to cup his face. He was blinking rapidly in an attempt to wake up.

After a bit of waiting he finally seemed to shake off his exhaustion, giving her a smug grin. “I should sleep more often if that’s how you’re going to wake me.”

She smiled faintly, rolling her eyes. “You should sleep more often in general.”

“You first.”

Marinette snickered. “In your dreams, maybe.”

“If I even had them,” he said, grinning. Then, slowly, his smile lessened. “Why weren’t you asleep?”

“Couldn’t,” she mumbled.

He frowned and brought his hands up to rub the dark circles under her eyes. “Looks like you haven’t been able to sleep for a while.”

She pulled away. “Too much coffee does that to you,” she said, sending him a short smile before disappearing to the nearest bathroom. When she came back, she found Tim clicking away at his computer. She rolled her eyes with a sigh and sat next to him with her next project, which was a suit for Jagged.

He rested an arm around her and tugged her close to his side and continued to work.

“You can go back to sleep, you know.”

He smiled. “I said ‘you first’, didn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes and started embroidering. He’d been exhausted a little bit ago, he’d fall asleep soon enough.

“By the way, I hid all the coffee in the house.”

Her hand slipped and she pricked her finger. She fought between two instincts: cursing him out or sucking on her finger to make the pain go away a bit. She settled for sticking her finger in her mouth and glaring at him. He seemed to get it, though.

“You need to sleep, Bean.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No, seriously. You’ve been up for days. How are you not hallucinating?”

She gave a tiny shrug. She actually was hallucinating, she’d just learned to ignore the things that didn’t make sense. She was pretty sure that his face wasn’t flashing rainbow colors, so she pretended she didn’t see it.

“Please, just sleep,” he begged.

She didn’t respond, eyes locked on the wall in front of her.

There was a silence as he considered what to do. “I’ll tell Jason,” he tried.

She winced. That would definitely suck, Jason would not leave her alone if he found out that she wasn’t sleeping. If what they were doing wasn’t so critical, he probably would bench her, too. Still, if she could ignore her hallucinations then she might just be able to ignore him as well.

He seemed to realize that it hadn’t worked and he sighed. “Fine, then I just won’t sleep until you do.”

She gave a snicker. Even if he had a few days on her, she was far too stubborn for his threat to worry her. He’d give up soon.

Except… he didn’t. And, as it turned out, he didn’t need to wait long. Without coffee to sustain her (the boys had banded together to block her attempts to get out of the house to get some), she was close to passing out by noon.

She glared wordlessly at Tim’s semi-smug face (he probably would have looked more smug if he wasn’t exhausted) as she dropped onto her bed. Marinette rested her head on his chest and he wrapped an arm around her again.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Of course, bean.”

She gave a huff and wrapped her arms around him. She honestly didn’t know if she wanted him to be there when she slept. On the one hand, he was really warm and she felt comforted when he was around. On the other… he’d probably find out the real reason why she wasn’t sleeping, she tended to mumble while she slept, and half of it wasn’t her story to tell.

She was still mulling it over when she lost consciousness.

(Tw: murder)

Her hand went to her yoyo. “Lucky charm,” she said, her voice dangerously calm.

The knife felt perfect in her hands. The grip and weighting made it feel like it was made for her. And it was.

The criminal’s eyes widened and he backed up quickly, his shoes struggling to find purchase on the slick floors. He tumbled to the ground, bringing up his gun as she advanced on him.

“Stay back or I’ll shoot!”

She gave a quiet laugh. She stepped forward again and again until the gun was pressed to her stomach. “Do it.”

And he did. Well, tried, anyways. The gun clicked. Horror dawned across his face as he realized that he was out of shots.

She smiled sweetly, grabbing his wrist and kicking his elbow as hard as she could. There was a crunch as it folded in on itself. He screamed and the gun clattered to the ground beside them. She hardly paid it any mind, twirling the knife in her fingers.

And then she plunged it into him and listened to his scream. This was nothing compared to the sound he made when she pulled the knife out again. She looked him over. He’d bleed out in minutes, she didn’t have to do anything at all.

She stabbed him again. And again. And again. Long past the point where he’d been unable to speak through the blood gurgling from his throat, past the point where he’d stopped moving.

But the worst part wasn’t the blood. It wasn’t the screaming, the yelling for help, the begging for her to stop. It was the fact that she couldn’t even bring herself to feel bad about what she was doing.

Not in the moment. Not afterwards.

And especially not when Robin was lying there, broken and bloody.

She looked down at the knife in her hands, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She’d used her lucky charm. She could do miraculous ladybug and fix everything.

Robin would be fine, he’d be alive… but she’d be fixing everything.

Her eyes flicked over the man beneath her. He’d be fine, he’d be alive.

He didn’t deserve it. Just like Robin didn’t deserve to die like that.

Her gaze fell on Robin again and her grip tightened on the knife --.

(Tw over. It’s just the memory of her killing the guy who killed Robin.)

She woke up shaking. Wait, no, someone was shaking her. Or maybe both.

Tim was leaning over her, blue eyes wide with fear as he shook her shoulders. It was the only thing grounding her, really, as exhaustion threatened to pull her under again. She felt a strangled sob escape her throat as she sat up and curled in on herself.

Arms wrapped around her and she felt herself get pulled into his side. She hugged her knees and pressed her face down so he couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face. He was talking to her, she realized, but she couldn’t hear it over her own thoughts.

She didn’t feel bad about what she’d done to that guy. Why didn’t she feel bad? She certainly should. She was a hero, or at least was supposed to be. Surely it wasn’t a heroic trait, murdering people for vengeance and then only using her power to return him because she had to.

And then, when she accidentally murders someone, she couldn’t even return him to his body? How was that fair?

She slowly peeked out of her legs to see Tim, who was attempting, fruitlessly, to soothe her (“-- t’s okay now, Bean, it’s over. You’ll be okay --!”). Guilt raced through her. She shouldn’t have slept next to him. She could have dealt with it herself. Now she’d worried him and he was probably going to feel bad about making her sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, wiping the stray tears from her face. She was calming down now, she was no longer crying. “I’m really really sorry.”

“Don’t say that,” he said quietly.

“But I am.”

“And you shouldn’t be,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head.

She buried her face in his side. She didn’t bother responding.

After a bit of silence, he finally asked it: “Sooooo... what was the dream about?”

Her fingers dug into her jeans. “How much did you hear?”

“Something about ‘Robin’ and ‘help’. You were mostly just crying.”

She swallowed thickly. Great. She’d accidentally said his name. She already knew that the bats had been told that she had ‘supposedly’ killed that guy. She didn’t know if they knew that he had killed Robin.

She sighed and pulled away until they were sitting about a foot apart. Could she even tell him? Robin was the one who had died, and he clearly didn’t want his family to know…

“So it is true.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “What is?”

“What that guy you took in said. He killed Robin and then you killed him.”

She winced, which was enough of a response. She fiddled with her hands in her lap, unable to look him in the eyes. She knew that bats were against murder, everyone knew of it. Would she get a pass if it was for revenge? Would that make it worse? Tears threatened to spill over again and she pushed herself off the bed.

“I guess if you feel bad about it…” Tim said slowly.

It was an out, but one she wasn’t willing to take. It wouldn’t be right. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t, though.”

“Bean...”

Ah. That voice. She’d never heard it from him, but everyone knew it. ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. She had honestly hoped she’d never hear it, but...

“I need to go,” she murmured. “Give me space.”

She ducked out the door. Her hand went to her pockets and she pulled out her phone, weaving through the house.

Definitelyforgottosleep: where r u

Therealdamianwayne: My room. Why do you ask?

Definitelyforgottosleep: ill be there soon

She pushed her phone back into her pockets and rushed to Damian’s room. He was already at the door when she got there. He took one look at her tearstained face and frowned. “Uh…”

“Tim knows.”

“Yeah, he’s known you’re Ladybug for a while --.”

“No, he knows about you.”

“Knows about --?” His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Damn!” He hissed, his face going pale.

He allowed her to grab his arm. They ran out the door and into the streets, weaving through crowds. Where were they going? They didn’t know, they were just concerned about getting away from the bats before news spread.

~~~

I’m back

Late

But back!!

~

Me: listen I’ll do fluff next time

Me, everytime: SIKE

~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna

<3

[quicksilversquared]

Move to Safety: Chapter 4 (of 6)

After Adrien just happens to spy Nooroo in his father’s office, he’s sent into an panic. His father is Hawkmoth, which means that Adrien is in serious danger.

Thankfully the Dupain-Chengs are more than willing to step up to the plate and lend a helping hand.

links in the reblog

"Ooh, I like this one!"

Marinette laughed when she spotted the bolt that Adrien was holding up. He had gotten back to the house after the mural dedication, they had gotten a bite to eat, and then the two of them had headed out to the fabric store for a bit of a distraction. It hadn't taken long for the two of them to get neck-deep in fabric. "Kitty paws? Why am I not surprised?"

"It's Chat Noir fabric!" Adrien glanced at the label, unsurprised to see that the neon-green cat paws on a black background were, in fact, designed to invoke Chat Noir. Thankfully, there wasn't a corresponding price mark-up on it. "You said that you needed black, right?"

"I do, yeah." Marinette stepped closer, inspecting the fabric. There was a small frown on her face. "The only problem is that it's a pretty prominent pattern and it's usually a better idea to not have the background fabrics be quite so, uh..."

Adrien glanced at the pattern in her hand, then back at the fabric. He could see what she was saying. "Oh. Darn."

"We could use it as the backing fabric, though!" Marinette said quickly. Then she spotted something else in the rack of fabric bolts and grinned, ducking down and reaching way back to grab another bolt and wriggle it out. "Though here's another option that I suspect you might like."

She pulled out anther bolt, and oh, he should have suspected that there would be a Ladybug fabric as well. It had a black background like the Chat Noir one, with little ladybugs scattered across the fabric, small pink and red flecks between them.

...he really liked that one, too.

Adrien dithered between the two choices, honestly torn. He loved the thought of being wrapped up in his Lady's colors, but he also really, really liked the Chat Noir fabric. It was a nod to his role in protecting Paris, and once his father was defeated, it wouldn't be overly dangerous to have superhero references around him.

Not that it was super suspicious at the moment, really- after all, all of Paris loved the superheroes- but everything would be safer with their supervillains gone, and it wouldn't have been smart to do anything to make his father suspicious even if he hadn't been Hawkmoth.

"Actually, I could do large patchwork blocks of both of them on the back," Marinette said while Adrien was still deliberating. "Like a checkerboard."

Adrien perked up. "Ooh, yes, please!"

The front of the quilt was going to be mostly blues and greens and black, and Adrien had plenty of fun picking through the racks to find something that stuck out to him. Subtle patterns were better for not overwhelming the overall design, and he wanted this to be a quilt that he would be happy with for years to come. It took longer than he had anticipated to make his choices, though Marinette didn't seem at all surprised by that as she wheeled their cart to the cutting counter and took a ticket.

"We're not going to get any studying done today, are we?" Adrien asked with a laugh as they lingered near the counter, keeping one eye on the ticket number being served. "Or at least I'm not, what with the dedication this morning and then this now."

"We'll have some time this afternoon and then this evening!" Marinette protested with a little laugh. "And all of tomorrow. Maybe we should have waited on the fabric errand a bit, but I thought it would be relaxing."

"And better now than after, y'know, the arrest," Adrien said, dropping his voice to a murmur on his last couple words. "I probably won't be able to go out as myself unless I want to get mobbed."

Marinette stiffened. "If people dare go after you-"

"I was thinking reporters, mostly." It was inevitable, really. They would want to know if he had known, if he was surprised, what he would do now. "Hopefully I'll get cleared pretty early on."

"If the superheroes tell the police that it was Adrien who told them who Hawkmoth was, I think they wouldn't question you that much," Marinette murmured, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough that the other customers nearby wouldn't hear them. "You wouldn't tell on him if you were working with him, obviously, so if they knew that you were the whistleblower..."

Adrien nodded. That made sense, and while he didn't know if he necessarily wanted that to become public knowledge- there would probably be people who would scoff at him turning his father into the police and wonder if he had no loyalty if even family bonds meant nothing to him, never mind the whole supervillain angle- letting the police at least know would probably save him a world of trouble.

"I'm looking forward to not having to sneak in and out of your house," Adrien said instead of continuing that conversation. This wasn't the best place for it, anyway. "Especially the sneaking out. I hate having to climb over you in the mornings."

"You've been great at sneaking out," Marinette assured him quickly, flashing him a smile. "I haven't been woken up at all! Quiet as a cat."

Adrien laughed at that. "Thanks, I try. But it's more of a- it just feels creepy to climb over you when you're still asleep. Like, I'm going into your bedroom while you're asleep and climbing up to your bed and it's just- like, I know that we're comfortable with each other now, but..."

"I know that you're there, though. It's not like you don't have permission." Marinette bumped his side gently. "Honestly, it's fine. As long as you don't take any pictures of me drooling in my sleep, you're good."

"You don't drool," Adrien blurted before he could stop himself. "I mean, not that I look- I try not to, but I have to make sure that I don't step on you, so I guess I do kind of look- but you do sprawl out like a starfish when you sleep and it's cute and oh my god I'm going to stop talking now."

Marinette was giggling. "It's fine!"

"Stupid runaway mouth," Adrien grumbled, trying not to hunch his shoulders and hide behind Marinette when a couple women glanced over at them. "Sorry. I promise that I'm not trying to be a creep."

"Like I said, it's fine." Their number was called, and Marinette led the way to the cutting counter, placing the bolts of fabric that they had selected up on the counter and listing off how much she needed of each. "We could have tried to find a different window, I suppose, or- or something. I just thought that the balcony would look less weird."

Adrien decided to just nod at that point. He had an inkling that opening his mouth again would just result in more embarrassment on his end.

It didn't take long to get all of the fabric cut, and then Marinette took a quick detour through the quilting section to pick up batting, thread, and a couple other supplies before heading to the checkout. As the stuff was for the quilt was rung up, Adrien couldn't help but wince.

He had known that quilts took forever and a half to make, but he hadn't known how freaking expensive they were to make. Adrien opened his mouth to offer to pay for the materials, but a sharp look from Marinette had him closing his mouth just as quickly.

He would just have to get her some really, really nice presents for her birthday and Christmas, then.

...would it be excessive to compose Marinette a song on the piano to express his appreciation on top of whatever he bought for her? After all, she was going to be putting hours and hours into the quilt, and composing something on the piano... well, that was the closest that he was going to get to putting in a similar amount of effort.

"I can't wait to get into this fabric," Marinette said happily as they exited the store. Adrien had managed to snag the bulkiest of the bags to carry, figuring that that was probably as much as she would allow him to do. "I've only made a couple quilts before, mostly lap ones, and it was so much fun. And the pattern that you picked out looked really interesting, too."

"Ah-ah-ah, no sewing until exams are done," Adrien chided. He grinned. "See, I thought I remembered someone swearing that having the fabric in the house wouldn't be a distraction."

Marinette groaned. "I could do it as a study break! I've done that before, I just set up a timer so that I don't accidentally spend too much time sewing."

Adrien glanced over at her as they walked. "Is that really a good break, though? I've always been taught that I should get up and move around and maybe get a snack or something during study breaks so that I'm not still hunching over or focusing on anything. I'm just watching out for your health, Mari!" he added when Marinette groaned. "Seriously, let the quilt wait! Then you can go absolutely wild with it once exams are over."

Marinette dithered, then frowned. "Fine."

The bakery wasn't a super-far walk from the fabric store, so Adrien took the opportunity to enjoy the just-warm-enough weather, turning his face up to the sun to bask in the warmth. If his father were here, he would probably be scolding Adrien for not having put sunscreen on first so that there wouldn't be any chance of him getting any sort of sunburn.

Adrien pushed that thought out of his head. His father wasn't here, and he was going to be in jail soon enough that Adrien's complexion would no longer be any of his concern.

"Aha, I sense an incoming project," Mrs. Cheng commented as soon as the two of them reached the bakery and stepped inside. It was late enough in the day that the crowds had subsided, with only a few people milling around to pick out what they wanted. "New quilt?"

"Adrien insists that I wait to start it until after exams are over," Marinette told her mom in her best long-suffering voice. "Something about not distracting myself from studying and not being all hunched over fabric during study breaks."

"Aha, someone who has some sense," Mrs. Cheng said with a laugh, beaming at Adrien. "We've been trying to keep her from bouncing back and forth between studying and sewing for ages. You'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"Maman!" Marinette groaned, just as Adrien said, "I will."

"Oh, not you, too," Marinette complained. "I can self-regulate!"

Mrs. Cheng laughed. "Dear, we had to go out and buy creams for you to put on your back when it hurts too much from you hunching over. And then when you went to that chiropractor, she said that you need to work on straightening up and stretching on a regular basis when you're working on homework or sewing. I'm thinking that your self-regulation could use some work."

Marinette just groaned some more and headed for the door to the apartment. Adrien laughed and followed her, giving a cheery wave good-bye to Mrs. Cheng as he left. She beamed at him before turning back to her customers, greeting the next person in line cheerily.

"Not to pile on or anything, but right before exams doesn't seem like a great time to risk back problems flaring up," Adrien commented as he caught up to Marinette on the stairs. "Seriously, it can wait. Think of the quilt project as a reward that you'll get at the end of the week!"

Marinette flashed a smile back at him. "I know. It'll be something to look forward to. We... i mean, we'll probably want a distraction by then, too."

Adrien tilted his head to one side, momentarily puzzled, and then it hit him. Right. His father would be returning from his summer fashion preparations at the end of the week, coinciding with the end of their exam week. That was when he and Ladybug were planning on attacking his father- well, depending on when Mr. Agreste decided to send out an akuma, at least.

Funny that he had managed to forget about that when he and Ladybug had literally just been discussing it. Clearly the errand to the fabric store with Marinette had been a good distractor.

Honestly, the company had probably had a lot to do with it.

"Yeah, a distraction then sounds good," Adrien agreed, smiling back at her. "But for now, let's get the bags put away and get some studying done."

  Exam week arrived too fast, just like it always did. Everyone- or almost everyone, at least, there were always some exceptions- was serious, hunched over books and notebooks or quizzing each other between classes.

Most years, Adrien would have spent most of his time out of school with a personal tutor hired to help him study, with a personally customized study plan based off of his strengths and weaknesses. This year, though, Adrien had managed to persuade Nathalie that it was unneeded, and that he had learned enough about study skills and how to figure out his weak areas that he didn't need a tutor this year. In fact, he had argued, having to create his own study plan could be beneficial. He would have to be more involved and that could mean that he remembered the lessons better.

Nathalie hadn't been entirely convinced, of course, but she had agreed to let him try it this one time. If his grades slipped from what they had been in the past, though, she had warned, he would be getting tutors for all future exams and there would be more summer tutoring than before.

It had been a pretty motivating threat, at least before Adrien discovered his father's secret and, by extension, Nathalie's. Now, unless Adrien decided that he actually wanted a tutor, there wouldn't be any more.

That was fine. There wouldn't be any more akuma attacks disrupting his classes, either, so Adrien figured that it would all even out. Besides, it had been easier to study when he was in Marinette's house, for some reason. Maybe it was because he wasn't antsy and on edge all of the time. They kept him busy and distracted when he wasn't studying, which kept Adrien from getting caught up in his own worries about what would happen once his father returned.

A couple times, Adrien had fallen asleep next to Marinette on her floor while studying. It had been comfortable and they had woken up in a tangle of limbs. It could have been a bit awkward, honestly, but somehow it wasn't. They were comfortable enough with each other now that it was just something that they did.

And then exams were over, and Mr. Agreste returned to the city. Adrien was half-convinced that his father would notice that something was off, but Mr. Agreste just made a brief appearance to inquire how Adrien's exams had gone, then retreated to his office to keep working.

Honestly, that was just the way Adrien liked it, particularly now that he knew his father's secret. The more distance between them, the better.

Nathalie dropped off Adrien's schedule for the start of summer, then headed out the door for her four days of vacation and general unwinding. Adrien watched her go, then immediately headed over to the Dupain-Cheng house to keep Marinette company and help her cut out the hundreds of pieces for his quilt.

And with that, the countdown was on. Ladybug had distributed the Horse to Seabiscut and the Bee to Hornet, and she had decided to use the Snake herself during their final battle. Adrien was rather relieved about that, honestly, since he was likely to be at little emotionally compromised during the battle and it was one less thing for him to have to remember to bring. His role was to-

Was to-

Well, to provide backup where needed. To join Ladybug to take down the final akuma, after Hawkmoth was defeated. To help keep the arrest under wraps, since Nathalie would still need to be captured and they didn't want to tip her off ahead of time, in case she was keeping her Miraculous on her.

It didn't sound like a whole lot, if he was being honest, but then again, the takedown was planned to be simple and straightforward. There wouldn't be a whole lot to do, not if things went to plan. And with the Snake in action, things should go to plan.

It didn't take long for Adrien's attention to wander while he watched Marinette pin and sew, so he headed downstairs to help out in the bakery. Mr. Dupain seemed to know without asking that Adrien needed a distraction, so he herded Adrien over to the sink to wash his hands, then started teaching him how to do different jobs. The croissant roller was easy enough to operate and hard to mess up, and of course it was hard to mess up loading the dishwashers. He didn't get to do any actual mixing of ingredients, because it would be too easy for him to mess up if he got distracted by his thoughts (or had to leave because of an akuma attack), but Mr. Dupain had promised that he would teach Adrien how to bake- abet in smaller batches first- once things were more settled.

Adrien was looking forward to it, though he couldn't deny that it was a bit intimidating. He hadn't done a ton of cooking- he helped with prep, sure, but not cooking by himself- and baking just seemed even more complicated. There were more things that could go wrong, Adrien was pretty sure, what with the yeast and rising and trying to bake all the way through and not overbaking and-

Well, it was a delicate process, that was for sure, and not something that Adrien wanted to be learning about when he was on edge waiting for an akuma attack.

Thankfully the wait wasn't too long. Two days after Mr. Agreste returned to Paris, an akuma alert lit up Adrien's phone. He muted it, suddenly feeling ill and regretting the sandwich that he had just eaten for lunch.

This was it. It was actually happening.

Adrien had spent the past week- longer, really- trying to ignore what Hawkmoth's defeat would entail. But that time was past now, and part of Adrien- the part that hated change, that didn't want to give up on the last bit of his family (his aunt and cousin, of course, not included)- wanted to put it off, even if the rest of him just wanted the whole Hawkmoth thing to be over with. There was a lot of mixed feelings there, and Adrien know how he was even supposed to start sorting them out.

Adrien's racing thoughts were promptly cut off by a tight hug.

"You'll be okay," Marinette promised, resting her head against his shoulder. "We're here for you no matter what." She looked up at him, her chin resting on his collarbone. "And we can do whatever you want when you get back. If you want distractions, we can do distractions. If you want to cuddle and watch a movie and drink hot chocolate, we can do that."

Adrien swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah." He hugged Marinette back, then pulled back, patting his pocket to make sure that his lucky charm from Marinette was still there. "Okay. I've got this."

"You do. And you have Ladybug and the rest of your team there for you, too." Marinette beamed at him. "You aren't alone."

"Okay." Somehow Marinette always knew just what to say. Adrien squared his shoulders, then flashed a smile- maybe a little weak around the edges, but still a smile- at her. "Plagg, transform me!"

With a flash of green, he was transformed. Chat Noir gave Marinette one more hug- for good luck, and to remind himself that he was still going to have a home and an amazing family even after his father was arrested- and then was off, heading for the abandoned building that Ladybug had picked out as their meeting point.

Soon it was all going to be over. He could only hope that he was actually ready.

[eolewyn1010]

Rambling

I’m salty, time to dissect a random piece of media.

So, there’s a very pretty little comic that crossed my dash recently. I’m not gonna link/reblog it here because it’s quite popular and I’m not in the mood for getting hated upon because of my negative opinion, but the synopsis is as follows:

Cinderella and her prince are happy together at first, but their marriage soon cools off because the prince apparently prefers to hang out with “younger and prettier women, daughters of nobles whose hands have never done a day’s work”, and Cinderella is bored out of her mind because she spent her entire life working and thus had never the time to develop any hobbies. She enjoys cooking and sewing, which is apparently not princess-y. Also doesn’t really take to court life with balls and representation and stuff, feeling it all is becoming routine. She learns all that nobility stuff and tries to get her prince’s attention back with a couple project, but eventually, he’s off to moon over other princesses again and she stops caring. One day, she finds the old diaries of a Princess Aurora aka Sleeping Beauty, becomes intrigued, then very intrigued with this mysterious far-off lady who loves poetry, eventually finds her, wakes her up and elopes with her. Many years later, they are two lovely old ladies running a bookshop and living their sweet married lives.

Cute, amirite?

Well.

Let’s start off with the prince, shall we? Why would he be so disinterested in her? We never get a reason for that. The story says that Cinderella did “stop worrying about a man who had gotten what he wanted from her”... eh, no? She’s his wife. He married her; that relationship should be worth something. If for no other reason, then at least for representational purposes and taking the effing time to make an heir. Why should he have already gotten all he wanted out of her? And what happened to their lovestory, anyway? He was very much in love with her once. What, was she not royalty enough to entertain him? But she showed a good will to learn - and teaching her stuff and sharing things with her she didn’t know yet would have been a very good reason to spend time together. It’s also established that Cinderella reads a lot and falls in love with Aurora over a shared interest in poetry. After it has been established that the prince wrote her poems and songs, so you can’t even tell me they had no common interests, because they obviously did. But I guess if we want to get the guy out of the equation, the only way to elevate the lesbian couple as inherently superior is by making the guy a neglectful, cheating dick. Whatever.

Then, Cinderella. WHERE’S THE COMMUNICATION, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE? She tries to reconnect with the prince via spending time together, but at no point does she go, “honey, there’s something not right with our relationship, we should work on that.” At no point does she confront him or face her own insecurities about being not good enough of a partner. Maybe they could have worked it out, maybe not, but they sure could have found a better way of separating than Cinderella just running off into the night without ever telling her husband what the heck is the situation between them? Yeah, the prince is a dick, but we’re never shown Cinderella actively working on salvaging their relationship. She just stops caring - and doesn’t even communicate that. Cersei and Robert Baratheon had better communication than that; at least they could openly admit to each other that their marriage was garbage. There’s also the thing about “younger and prettier women”. Ew? In every Cinderella iteration, she’s younger than twenty, an appropriate age to be unwed in non-modern times. She’s also here about the same age as Aurora who was definitely a teen when she fell asleep, so... are you trying to tell me the prince is a pedophile? Or just that he’s shallow? Only that the first thing we’re told about Aurora when Cinderella finally sees her in person is that she’s ✨ beautiful ✨, so, double-standard much?

As for the “hands that had never seen a day’s work”... yeah, what is a lady suposed to do? Except managing THE ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSEHOLD of the royal palace, very much practicing the handicraft that women of higher stand are expected to deliver just the same (and no, I don’t mean pretty embroidery, I mean useful stuff, like repairing clothes, because clothes were expensive and you didn’t just walk to the next store and buy new ones whenever), administrative duties in the government (how does the prince have so much time to hang out with ladies? Doesn’t he have a country to run or something?), so Cinderella should have been massively out of her depth, not bored whatsoever.

And then, the relationship with Aurora. Which starts off entirely one-sided as Cinderella becomes attached to what she assumes is a dead girl who left some diaries. Which seems to count as love, apparently, considering she manages to wake her up and we have a True Love’s Kiss protocol to follow here. Thing is, I have feelings for people I’ve never met in person, online friends, not romantic feelings, but sure as hell the one or other massive squish. BUT - those developed via interaction. We exchanged questions, opinions, we discussed. I wrote something, and something came back. That’s how relationships are built. Cinderella gets nothing back from Aurora for the simple reason that Aurora is kind of fridged for the time being, so... how is that “falling in love”? And how is it better than her relationship with the prince? Woohoo, instead of marrying someone she’s spoken to three times at a few parties, she now marries someone she’s never spoken to at all! Great! Someone she really has things in common with, like poetry! You know, like the poetry her husband used to write for her when she still bothered to interact with him! The story has a time skip from “Cinderella finds Sleeping Beauty” to “many years later, happily ever after”, so we’re clearly expected to take for granted that they hit it off the second Aurora was awake. That Cinderella’s “fallen in love with diaries” was sufficient relationship-building. Also, “routine”? What, you think running a bookshop is never going to be routine? Hate to break the news to you, but love has to function in everyday life.

If you wanna have that lesbian princesses fairytale, why not write an original story instead of derailing an existing one? I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if the prince hadn’t been so trampled on as a character. He has to suck so the rest is great? Uhm, why couldn’t they talk about it and come to the mutual conclusion that they don’t work as a couple? Could make for an interesting fairytale to have people behave like adults.

Anyway. You wrote a queer lovestory, congratulations. I just don’t think it’s a very good one.

[wolfcha1k]

It’s Our Nature

["You know, Grug. Eventually, Eep and Guy, they're going to want to start their own pack. Just like we did, it's our nature."] Grug is confused about when his little girl stopped being so little, perhaps its time Gran and Ugga tried reminding him it wasn't too long ago he was just like Guy and Eep are now. [Pre!A New Age, contains Guy/Eep and Grug/Ugga fluff/One-Shot]

You can read it here on Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13785964/1/It-s-Our-Nature

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525908

Please leave a read and a review ~ Thank you ~It was really hard sometimes for Grug to accept his little girl wasn't so little anymore. She'd always been stuck like tar to his side and would demand stories as a young child. The old cave walls were filled with tiny hand prints he never realized had grown bigger until Guy came along and forced him to be reminded Eep was indeed a woman. She was nineteen summers old and the fact wasn't lost on anyone who had functioning eyes in their head. 

Fathers only saw with their hearts though and inside Grug's his daughter was still that rambunctious sweet little girl who needed him to protect her. That also included suitors.

"Grug you're brooding again," he heard Ugga say from behind him.

"This is just my face." Grug shifted his weight from where he sat lounging against his favorite rock. 

"Trust me, I can see them just as clearly as you can." 

Grug couldn't help but stiffen at her call out of his snooping. Was it really spying though if the two were out in the open? They were together by the beach with Chunky playing third wheel. The demanding feline squeezed his way between them when he felt they were being too touchy. Or maybe it was just Grug self projecting, his cat generally liked being the center of attention. Guy and Eep were fishing by hand in the water but it soon turned into a game of seeing who could out run the tide first whilst trying to knock the other down. Chunky kept getting confused by this activity as he shook droplets off his wet paws. 

Eep was in the lead by at least seven points, it wasn't like Grug was keeping track though. "Why didn't you tell me sooner Eep was all grown up?" Grug side eyed his mate who just laughed at him. 

"She's up to your shoulder and gives you a hard time like every teenager, I thought it was obvious." Ugga nudged him with her elbow, her small hands were busy threading a bone needle with sinew as she sewed new clothes for her family. 

"Well… she was always a stubborn girl and big for her age," he quipped as he crossed his arms.

"And then she got that doe-eyed look when mister-you-know-who showed up." Ugga batted her eyelashes playfully in emphasis and folded her hands beneath her chin a moment. It was hard to keep a straight face, Ugga quickly laughed it off. Grug set his jaw in a very uncharacteristic pout.

"Never should have stuffed him in the log," Grug said with less heart than he actually felt. Sure, he enjoyed roughing the kid up sometimes and making a big show of being upset seeing Eep with Guy but in truth he was fond of the… guy. It was still his job as a dad to scare Guy a little. 

"Oh don't say that, he's practically our son now."

"Does that mean I need to protect him from Eep then?" He kept the edge of hope out of his voice the best he could as he faced his mate.

Ugga rested her chin on her fist thoughtfully, she put the needle safely away as she watched the two lovebirds chase one another on the beach. "You might, honestly," Ugga said with a warm voice. "She's a handful."

He heard a startled yelp from the shore and got to enjoy the sight of Guy yet again face planting in the sand. Eep pounced over his toppled form, he was spitting sand from his mouth.

"Gotta be faster than that!" She shouted with a victorious smile. 

Guy mustered the energy to mockingly look at her like he was bothered but the toothy grin that spread on his face afterward said otherwise. 

"Lovesick idiots," remarked Gran as she hobbled over to join them. She watched Eep and Guy fondly despite her toughness. "What I wouldn't give to be their age again. Especially with a boy like him, where was he fifty summers ago?"

"Ugh, I don't need that mental image," Grug mumbled with a shudder, his face surly. 

"Aw Grug. Don't you remember what it was like to be young and in love?"

"I do, and that's why I'm worried!" Grug jutted a thumb behind him and caught the confused blank stare Guy gave the group at catching their gossip. "Young and hot blooded, Ugga."

Eep went over to haul Guy back up by the scruff of his neck. She shot Grug an embarrassed and irritated look that was muffled by her wild mane of red hair. "Ugh… Dad, we can hear you!"

"Good! So keep your hands to yourselves! You don't want little Eeps!" Grug paused. "I don't want more little Eeps, one of you is plenty!"

Guy gaped at them like a suffocating fish, Gran guffawed and shook her head. "Let them be, lunkhead. Not like they'll do anything in front of us, eh?" The two younger children of the Croods clan, Sandy and Thunk, looked up in confusion from where they were busy playing with Douglas a short distance away.

Eep pulled the curtain of hair over her eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her. Guy rubbed the back of his neck at the narrow eyed look Grug shot him. 

Ugga rolled her eyes and began to try shooing the old woman off. "Mom, please."

"Come now, it's my generational right to tease the youngsters." Gran reached forward with her staff to hook it under the back of Grug's pelt shirt. She jerked it up with more speed than a lady her age should have, causing Grug to choke a moment as he grabbed for the shirt collar. "See? Like that! Sides, I got plenty of blackmail about you two turtledoves too. Grug was pathetic."

Grug eyed her with a pointed glare once he was free of her pesky walking stick. Gran was unbothered, only grinned a toothy smile as she flopped comfortably onto the sand. She glanced towards Eep who perked at the potential to embarrass her father for once. It was hard to miss the mischievous wink she sent her granddaughter. Grug didn't like the curious glint in those green eyes as his spunky daughter practically skidded to seat herself near Gran. Guy followed clumsily as she had a vice grip on his hand. How Eep hadn't pulled his shoulder out along the way, Grug would never know.

It wasn't long until the entire family were seated in front of Gran. Thunk had Douglas in his lap and Sandy was curled around Belt who cooed at the attention. Ugga gave her mate a look that was screaming 'you brought this on yourself', Grug resigned himself to his fate out of pride. Real men didn't run from such things and as the patriarch he refused to be cowed by silly stories of when he was courting Ugga. 

"What was dad like with mom?" Eep asked as she leaned forward, grinning. She looked at Grug who just huffed. 

"Like I said, utter mushy rotten fruit. You think Guy is tooth rotting, you should have seen your father in his day." Guy pouted at being the butt of the joke as usual, he cast his dark eyes at Grug. He smirked as if to boast at the boy, smug that he wasn't going down alone in this evening razzing. "I wanted to chuck a rock at him every time he came to see Ugga."

Some of Guy's pride was built back up again though when Eep fondly rubbed shoulders with him. Grug began to wonder if it really was self-projecting this time when Chunky nosed his way between the young couple for a snuggle. Guy looked startled whilst Eep just scratched the Macawnivore between the ears.

Ugga decided to play traitor this night. "Mom how about you tell the kids about that time when Grug went on that big errand you gave him."

Grug couldn't help but wince and gave Ugga a scowl. The little minx had the nerve to grin innocently at him despite the betrayal. 

"Big errand?" Guy echoed, he was barely visible from under Chunky's massive form.

"That story is my favorite," Gran cackled with a devious gleam in her eye. "And see Guy, back in our day if you wanted to court a woman you had to do something for the head of the family! Gramp was dead so I got to pick the task. Bless that heart attack he had."

Eep and Guy shared a look before both teenagers gazed questionably at Grug. He fidgeted before rolling his eyes. "That was Yesterday stuff. Besides, Guy saved us from The End with all his weird ideas so… consider the tab paid off."

"That brain thing of yours is really useful," Eep agreed with a girlish tone. 

Guy blushed red at the compliment but didn't shy away from it. If anything it just made him glow proudly. "There's more where that came from," he quipped and knocked his knuckles lightly against his temple.

Grug almost wished he'd missed the bright, lovesick smiles the two shared despite Chunky barring them apart to the best of his ability. The desire for his daughter's happiness won out though, luckily for Guy who beamed. Even protective fathers and clingy Macawnivores weren't enough to stop true love it seemed.

"Anyway… it's no secret I didn't like your dad. So I came up with the most impossible task ever to earn Ugga." Gran licked her dry lips as she grunted, "Of course Grug had to go and actually do it."

"What did you make dad do?" 

"Told him to go get a hair off a naked molephant."

Guy blinked. "But naked molephants don't have hair."

"Well, this is Grug so of course the nincompoop found the one blasted molephant that had hair." Grug let himself puff his chest out like a peacock preening its feathers. 

"Yeah, well, you should have known better when you set me out on a job, Gran." He gave his mother-in-law a catty grin, for now he could relish in a past victory that smarted her way back when.

Eep looked at her grandmother mischievously. "So… when does the story get good?"

Ugga snickered, by now she had abandoned her sewing to sit between Thunk and Sandy. Thunk leaned against his mother as the woman combed her fingers through his scruffy mop of hair. "When he came back with his tunic ripped apart by a tusk," Ugga interjected.

"Wow," Thunk said in awe, turning his eyes to stare at Grug. Grug appreciated at least one Crood wasn't laughing at him. "How'd you do that?"

Gran cocked an eyebrow with a chuckle. "Yeah Grug, tell them."

Grug crossed his arms moodily. "Just for the record, it was a real life or death battle getting that stupid hair."

"Ugga was sewing his left buttocks for weeks," Gran said with a slap to her knee, the memory made her lifetime, really. She lifted her bony hands up to gesture with those old curled fingers of hers a measurement. "He's got a scar like this—"

"—ANYWAY! Like I was saying," Grug grumbled. He turned his attention back to his family. He scooped up a clump of sand and clay from the ground below and drew a vaguely person-like shape into the rock he had been lounging on. Then he drew a beast with tusks and a long nose next to him. "It was a battle of life and death, there I was, twenty two summers old—"

It was pure spite that kept him going hours after setting forth into the desert. Gran was convinced he couldn't win her daughter as his mate, and so when the old lizard raised the stakes he was determined to prove her wrong. He would get Ugga, she was something special and worth more than daylight itself.

He loved her and if it took getting a stupid molephant hair to be with her then so be it. Gran had been making him jump through hurdles since the day he'd met Ugga, it was no secret they shared a mutual loathing for each other. It also came from the same selfless affection the two had for Ugga, though Grug would have thought knowing he made her daughter happy was enough for her. Growling under his breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

There was still a good five knuckles before the sun would set, he'd find it before then. Either that or he was going to face the dangers night brought—

“You? Staying outside at night?” Eep sounded doubtful.

“...yes,” Grug huffed. 

“See? Big mush,” Gran interrupted.

"Can I finish? Nobody interrupted this much back in the cave," he grumbled moodily.

—He was sure the beast was around here somewhere as he took a cautionary sniff of the dry, dusty air. Grug could see footprints inbedded in the barren and broken ground that sand didn't cover yet. Running onwards, he pressed his knuckles into the ground as he paced himself. 

Grug crossed the desert quickly and ignored the aching in his palms and feet from the hot tough earth. He was built strong and a little pain wouldn't stop his pride. He paused when the scent grew stronger, flaring his nostrils he climbed up a nearby tree to survey what was around. The sun was strong against his eyes and Grug strained through the bright rays of light to see a dark speck in the distance. In a nearby canyon below, Grug finally found what he was looking for—

"What about never being afraid?" Thunk asked his father.

Grug looked at Thunk before settling his dark eyes on his beloved Ugga. "I was afraid," he admitted with a chuckle. "But I wanted to impress your mother more. Being stubborn and hormonal is a terrible mix."

"You stubborn? No!" Eep exclaimed with a teasing grin. Guy gave her a playful look from where he was walled by Chunky.

Grug made a vague gesture with his hand and he relished in the confused faces Eep and Guy made when Chunky pressed his full weight against both of them. Guy yelped for mercy as Eep tugged on the cheeky feline that was crushing him into the sand.

"Grug! Please call him off!" A large paw cuffed his head, Guy's words quickly muffled.

"Dad!"

Grug suppressed a grin as he went back to his story. "I found the molephant so what was next was getting the hair—"

Grug couldn't say how long it took climbing down that cliff wall to reach the level the molephant was at. It was risky and went against what Grug practiced in his beliefs. Caution and fear kept him alive this long, yet here he was about to go harass an molephant for some hair it might or might not have. Dread pooled in his belly and made him cold, going after more beasts was not how he wanted this to go. Breathing heavily through his gritted teeth, Grug crept as quietly as he could across the canyon. There were many tall and small rocks around that would provide cover should he need to hide.

Grug didn't have a brain, cavemen didn't use those. At least he didn't and it showed when he found himself running full speed away from a rampaging molephant. He relied on his gut instinct to weave and dodge its massive tusks that were swung at him. Grug scrambled and whenever he managed to get close, the creature stomped it's way towards him with a vengeance.

He bit back a curse when a tusk just barely ripped part of his tunic at his chest—

"—so this is when the story gets to the best part," Eep interrupted with a cheeky hum. She'd since rescued Guy from the weight of Chunky and had him cuddled protectively in her arms. She rested her chin on his mused up brown hair. Guy idly stroked one of her hands that were interlocked at his neck and chest.

"I thought it was always at the best part," Thunk quipped in a confused voice to his sister.

"If I say anything else I'm worried I'll become Macawnivore food," Guy said and tipped his head to the side with a huff. 

Ugga smiled at her children as Grug shot them a look to be silent. "Look if you want to laugh at me can I finish this up then first?"

Gran reached her staff out to bop Eep over the head, her bushy red hair cushioned the blow. "Yeah, hush your tongue." 

Eep huffed when she felt Guy trying to muffle his grin into her arm. Grug shook his head at the sight, feeling a fond nostalgia swell within him despite the protective instinct. He looked at Ugga and she just arched a brow at her mate. Grug turned back to telling the story, large fingers drawing more on the rock.

"The molephant was putting up a good fight but your old dad was better—"

—He was swearing aloud and screaming as he hung onto the tusk by his shirt. Grug was glad he didn't feel wounded but this was just a disaster waiting to happen. Even the molephant seemed dismayed at the fact he now had the man stuck on his face. It kept rampaging and Grug strained against the beast in order to sink his feet forcibly into the hard earth. Dust filled the air and with his innate strength, Grug managed to swing his body around to grab it by its tusk. The molephant slowed and leaned back to buck, swinging Grug off after a lot of effort. 

He was thrown through the air and scrambled to find his feet as he rolled like a big boulder. Dazed, Grug just barely got out of the way of the molephant as it charged him. Panting, Grug finally saw the hair on its angrily swishing tail. It groaned in frustration and Grug realized the molephant had gotten its massive body stuck between two rocks. Panicked and running strictly on adrenaline, Grug reached forward to yank off a clump of hair from its tail. It trumpeted its distress, Grug began to rush away but there was the sound movement. He dared to look behind him, yelling out he did all he could to escape the incredibly pissed off beast.

It only took one stupid stumble to find that in that split moment he was thrown into the air. Pain flowered under his back and rump. The last seconds felt like they were slow motion as he landed harshly into a patch of huge, prickly brambles. Everything went blurry and before he knew it, there was nothing...

He'd awoken to darkness and the scent of blood in his nose. He was tangled upside down in a bramble bush and covered in an uncomfortable amount of burrs. There was also pain in his rear end and back, Grug noted with a groan. However the panic he felt for that hair won out his concern for his current state. He couldn't go back without that blasted hair!

He froze his struggling at a sound in the distance and cowardly he hunkered down the best he could whilst suspended in the air head facing down. However, it soon turned into a voice. "...Grug! Grug?!'

"Ugga?!" He whispered harshly and in the moonlight he saw the cavewoman trotting cautiously on all fours. "I'm over here!"

Ugga hurried towards him and gave him a worried once over. Grug grinned at her concern until she scowled, harshly tugging on his ear like he was an impudent child. "Are you asking for a death wish, Grug?! Look at you! I can't believe you took mom seriously!"

"...it's good to see you too, Ugga," he grunted, pressing a hand to his ear to drown out the headache she gave him.

Ugga circled him with careful gray eyes as she tried to figure out how to get him down. "You are lucky no hungry predators sniffed you out first before I did," Ugga continued to scold.

Grug stiffened at the mention of such a risk and reached an arm to grab her shoulder as if it would protect her. "You shouldn't even be out here," he grumbled back.

"I know but after hearing mom laughing it up with the tribe about this stupid errand I needed to find you," Ugga hissed, pulling away to give him another stink eye. "I'm so mad at you right now."

"Yeah well once I find where that dumb hair went I'll be the one laughing at her!" Grug exclaimed, wiggling in an attempt to dislodge himself. 

"Would you hold still? You're just going to make yourself worse," she complained and began to tear at the thicket with her strong, calloused hands.

Grug, being the stubborn man he was, continued to squirm this way and that. "I can get down myself," he huffed.

Ugga threw her hands up in frustration before yanking at a cord of bramble. "You have a head made of rocks, Grug."

Grug opened his mouth to argue back before suddenly falling. He cried out when his head hit the ground, grabbing at his neck in pain of the impact. Nursing a bump that felt like some giant goose egg, Ugga examined his tunic.

She made a noise through her teeth in fret. "How are you not dead right now?"

"I don't know!" He said with a growl, shuffling to sit up. Everything hurt from his skull to his toes that spread out in the pulse of his blood. "But between you, your mom and that molephant, all of you are really trying to bury me!"

Ugga rolled her eyes and spun him around, she pulled up his shirt before Grug could even protest. "You're lucky," she sighed, relief warming her voice. "That molephant tusk missed a major arterie. Really ruined your tunic though."

He softened and reached a hand out to touch her arm. "I got other shirts."

"It's probably going to scar. Can you walk?" Ugga faced him once again, he couldn't help but frown as he watched her wipe her bloody palm in the sand. My blood, Grug thought with a pained wince.

The adrenaline of the moment and even beyond it was wearing off, Grug really wanted to go back to his cave to nurse his wounds and ego. "I think so. Um… help balance me?" 

A smile lit up her face and Grug wondered if it was the blood loss or her that made him sway breathlessly. "Sure." Ugga offered her arm to him which he took.

However, he stopped with a groan. "Ugh… wait. The hair, I'm not going back without that hair!"

"Forget the hair, Grug. Mom will get over it."

"Oh no! Ugga, I'll never hear the end of it if I don't give her that stupid hair!" Grug let go of Ugga to try peering through the darkness on the ground, crouching on his knuckles.

Ugga put her hands on her hips. "What is so important about getting my mom this hair? Naked molephants don't even have hair."

Grug just stuck a finger at her triumphantly. "Yes, yes they do and I swear to the sun it's not just me getting loopy from all this blood loss."

"Grug, you're scaring me," Ugga said in a deadpanned tone, brows arched.

"That old lizard can't keep us apart anymore after this," he continued to ramble on and on.

"Grug…"

"If it's a hair that ancient fossil wants in order to get her out of mine for good then so be it," he continued.

"Grug!" 

"What?!"

"If you want to be my mate so bad why don't you just ask me yourself?"

Grug stopped his frantic search and stiffened up like a ribbit being hunted by a liyote. He turned to face her and saw she looked disappointed, arms crossed over her muscular chest. "Um… excuse me?" He wanted to kick himself for stuttering, he wasn't a boy anymore.

"I'm not something to trade for, and the fact you actually went through with it astounds me." Ugga shook her head with a sigh. 

Grug shuffled his weight uncomfortably, he'd never been good at addressing his feelings out in the open like that. Even if it was for Ugga whom he loved dearly. "I know you're not an object, Ugga."

"Then why ask mom?"

"I… I don't know. I guess… I got tired of her talking badly about, you know… us." Grug looked at her with a frown, uncharacteristically vulnerable. 

Ugga reached out to cup his cheek in her hand as she stood in front of him. "Mom says a lot of things, you really need to tune her out."

He turned his head to brush his nose against her palm in a fond gesture, slouching. "She always says I'm no good for you, Ugga."

"Well, lucky for us mom isn't the one you have to court. It's me." She leaned back on her heels, still stroking his face with a gentle touch for a woman as fierce as Ugga. 

"I'm just saying, getting her to shut up would be a win win to this mess." Grug shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive way, a small grin on his face.

Ugga rolled her eyes at him. "You and your manly pride are going to get you into trouble."

"If I'm already in trouble I might as well finish up," he quipped. Grug found his molephant hair amongst the broken debris the molephant had left in its rampaging wake, he’d lifted it up triumphantly in the moonlight. Ugga shook her head. “Okay, now, we can go back!”

When they returned, the sun had started to rise over the desert as dawn chased off the night. Gran had stood outside the dwelling she shared with Ugga, her scowl etched deep into her wrinkled features. The other families were creeping out of their dens in preparation of the morning hunt and foraging, their curious eyes were shocked to see Grug limping back into the canyon with Ugga supporting his hulking mass.

Grug shoved the wad of hair into Gran's face with a low growl, "Here's your stupid hair!" The old woman took it with muted shock for once, gaping mouth wide as she looked between Grug and Ugga. With a burst of adrenaline and pride, he looped his massive arm around Ugga's waist to haul her over his shoulder.

She gave a startled laugh, lightly smacking her fists into his back. "We're going back to this tradition, are we?"

"I gotta make sure your mom doesn't try anything again, you're as good as mine now," Grug huffed, limping with his Ugga secured in his grasp like she weighed light as a feather.

"You're too much, Grug."

"You've never complained before," he shot back with a grin.

"C'mon big guy, I think all that blood loss is affecting your head. Let me patch you up."

Grug headed for his cave, merry that he'd gotten Ugga and at the same time shut that awful lizard of a mother-in-law up. It costed him his pride, he noted, it was hard to ignore the snickering of the families around them. He only bared his teeth at them which seemed to work for the moment. Once his back was turned the whispering and giggling continued.

Ugga merely pressed her forehead into the back of his neck and it made everything better… least until Gran moved in but that was a different story for another tomorrow. 

Grug finished his story with flourish, loosely drawing what seemed to be a lopsided circle around the two images presenting Ugga and himself. 

"I like that story," Eep said, a bit dreamily as she looked at the pictures. "It wasn't really embarrassing though."

"It was if you were there," Grug scoffed as he wiped his clay covered hands on his pelt.

"Well, it still makes me laugh at least," Gran said from where she sat, cackling. 

"You laugh at anything that has me getting beat up," he pointed out, surprisingly with a much more amiable tone.

"Not true, now that you learned some jokes I laugh at other things too."

Ugga smiled fondly at her mate, letting Thunk sit up so she could go wrap her arms around his bicep in a hug. "Thank you," Ugga said, rubbing her nose into his cheek. 

Grug softened and felt his ears burn, giving her a small smile. His eyes fell to his audience and he couldn't help lingering on Eep who still had Guy draped in her lap. They were gazing at one another like nobody else existed around them for the moment, Guy lifting a finger to fondly boop her nose.

Ugga shook her head. "Let them be, you remember what it was like still." She patted his arm fondly with a knowing smile.

Grug huffed but said nothing, just reluctantly looked away from the two lovestruck teenagers. "I've been lounging around too much anyway." He tried shrugging off the blatant teenage romance going on right in front of him. "Since they're busy, dinner duty is on me now." The plan had been fish but he knew that failed disastrously from the word go. 

He grabbed Thunk by the shoulder and the boy protested a moment, Douglas scampered between their legs as Grug lead the way towards the woodland hugging the beachfront. Ugga watched Grug go, sighing like she was a girl of twenty summers old again. She reached down to grab Sandy who wiggled in her arms, Ugga tucked her under her elbow without batting an eye over the feral snarling. She cast one last look at Eep and Guy before walking off herself, intending to put Sandy down for a nap.

"C'mon you little scamp," Ugga told her daughter. "You need all the rest you can get for when Dada comes back with food."

"Hey… where did everybody go?" Eep found a moment to look away from Guy to realize the clearing had been well… cleared out. Only one that remained was Gran, the old battle ax of a woman rolled her eyes.

Guy lingered his gaze on her still. "I don't know but you are still here so it's not a problem yet for me."

She fought off a smile best she could but failed at his widening one.

"About time the two of you joined us back in this world," she grunted in a teasing tone, her joints creaking as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Oh, hey Gran." Guy waved a hand idly in her direction. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eep inquired, huffing.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean," Gran replied, stretching a kink out of her back. She gave a satisfied sigh at the pop, leaning comfortably against her stick. "Anyway lovebirds… I want my afternoon nap now. Laughing at Grug really wipes an old lady out."

"Hold on a second!" Eep exclaimed, springing up to her feet. She unceremoniously hefted Guy up in her arms as she did so, his dark eyes only startled for a second. "Why is that story your favorite, really?" Eep asked with a squint.

She put Guy back on his own two feet though clung to his bicep. He leaned against her solid form without a thought, it came as easy as breathing air. "You and Grug didn't seem to have the best relationship," Guy added thoughtfully as he looked at her.

Gran huffed through what was left of her teeth, shaking her head. "It reminds me of how foolishly in love you two are," she chuckled at the matching blushes on their faces. "Being so devoted that you go and do something stupid to prove it. I'd watch your back Guy, Grug knows he can get you to climb in Chunky's mouth if it means Eep is your reward for it."

"Eep isn't a thing," he sputtered.

Eep couldn't help but playfully jab his ribs. "I'm not a catch then?"

"Of course you are!" Even at her most gentle, Eep knocked the wind out of him and he was wheezing.

"See! That is what I mean," Gran cackled as she reached out to pat Guy fondly on the shoulder. "Lovesick idiot. Eep has you down pat. That's okay though, us ladies like a man who's easy to boss around." She winked at Eep and Guy.

She heard Eep's disgruntled scoff as she turned away, a mischievous grin tugging her old lips. "Do try to behave yourselves. Well, I'll say ta-ta for now, loves." Leaving the two to their own devices at last, Gran began to hobble off after the direction her daughter Ugga had gone.

Guy stared at the pathway until Gran was a mere speck and turned to look at Eep. "Am I easy to boss around?"

"Behave ourselves," Eep said, pouting. "She's acting like we have no restraint!"

Guy chuckled with a teasing grin, leaning down to brush his lips against the hinge of her jaw. She immediately melted. "Maybe she's kinda right about that, at least," he mumbled against her chin. 

Eep nuzzled herself closer to him, feeling his breath fan her neck. “We probably shouldn’t prove her right, you know how Gran is.”

Guy just huffed and began to pepper her neck and face in kisses, Eep had no complaints despite her playful refusal. Rebellion just came with being young, even if the old codger would relish in teasing them later for it.

[cosplayinamerica]

Satori Tal-May Baylin (original character) : sno_italever // photo:  @greyroamer 

Cosplay is for fun and, for some, to grow their skills. It is something that is done to celebrate characters, people, and each other. I truly believe this, but it didn’t start that way.  

I started wearing costumes before I could walk, started sewing at 6 years old. My first con was when I was like 12 or 13, wearing kimono my mom made me and my twin, based off of a sewing pattern that was horribly inaccurate looking back at it. Shiny fabric from the ‘oriental’ section and all. I tried my hand at making my own costume, with significant help from my mother, the next year. Chii and Freya from Chobits for my twin and myself.

At that time, my mom mostly made our costumes, and my twin and I helped in whatever way we could. Yet, we wanted to try and compete sometime, to show of our (mom’s) work.   We did a skit. A small little thing about twins, based off the Chobits’ lore. We ended up winning best skit when we did. There were only three skits that had competed, yet I was on cloud nine. My twin and I had won something! An accomplishment; look what we did! Gotten a plaque for our skit, which was promptly put up in my mom’s sewing room. 

My mom humored us, let us show guests when they came over, let us dress up for trusted friends and show off our ‘work.’ My twin, my mom, and I all shared the little pictures on social media, and we got maybe 5 responses, if that. Yet, to me, I had won the Olympics. I could be successful, someone I was not, I could work on my anxiety and social phobia, and people would like me. I could be popular.  

I began crafting more on my own, though still with the heavy help of my mother and sibling. I competed yearly at this little con near us. I wanted to win, thinking it was because I wanted to grow my craft. Really, I just wanted to be famous. I got a rush from strangers telling me I looked good, or my outfit was nicely made. It went to my head, my ego grew.

This only became more problematic as I continued competing, coming to a head when I won best in show at this little con. The outfit I made, Seth Nightroad from Trinity Blood, I made exactly 60% of, since that was the ruling at the time of something you could compete in to win something.

My mom made the other 40%, or at least, I tell myself that. Looking back at it, it was probably gracious of me to say I made 50% of the costume. But you couldn’t deter me, I marched into judging like I had made it by myself. I was in my head, looking amazing and no one could stop me. I knew how to talk the talk (so I thought) and walk the walk. And when I won Best in Show, my friends and complete strangers all crowded around me to congratulate me. I was queen of the world.  

I started thinking that, because I had won best in show at this little con, I was in the big leagues. I was still a novice (now, at best I am a journeyman). I bragged, applied to be a judge for a craftmanship contest I had no business being in.

When I got selected simply because all the other judges except one had dropped out, I thought it was truly because I was qualified, not because I was the only one left within a short distance who could get to the competition in time. I knew my stitches, my craft, after all, what else did you need?   This ego continued for years. I still struggle with it. I have since stopped competing.

Cosplay was supposed to be fun, a way for me to build my confidence, work on my anxiety, increase my ability to converse and engage. Instead, I grew into a monster. I wanted to be famous, popular, and nothing else. It was a toxic environment I grew into. I am still working on finding what drives me. I have tried to fix the friendships I have lost, tried to regain respect but I also realize now the damage I caused by getting so wrapped up in the want to win. It’s a long time coming and I am working on getting out of the toxic mindset of “cosfame.” One way I have done this is making outfits of original characters.

Satori Baylin, an original character of mine and my twins, was how I started over. She was a labor of love and a way to focus on my skills and not the want to be popular. I still get a kick, that high, when people compliment me about the craftsmanship or details, but it is a costume I cannot compete in. It forces me to step back and focus on those who helped me get that far. Satori’s first gown I made almost entirely on my own. She was the first time I made armor. First time with organza. First time silk painting. First actual prop. First time really styling a wig. But even with all those firsts, I could not have gotten there alone.

Satori also sports wings and ears from a wing seller, a custom cloak that I got at ren faire, a coworker of mine made me hair fancies. She is a group project, spanning almost 5 years (10 if you count when my twin first commissioned an art piece of her for me). Satori is a labor of love, made only for me and no one else. She belongs with no fandom, she has no reference art that I could submit for craftsmanship, but she does what cosplay should do. She empowers me, allows me to grow in my craft and allow me a talking point, a safe high without falling back into the pageantry. It still comes, I still act entitled, elitist, but I am becoming able to step back. To step away. To listen to those around me. To know it is okay to buy something, wear someone else’s costume and just enjoy myself. To see I am there to just dress up and have fun, not do it solely to win.

I have a lot more growing to do. I cannot do it alone. I hope, now more than ever, that I will continue to learn, to take time to dress for myself and not for the likes. Cosplay is empowerment. Cosplay is a tool. I just must wield it the right way.

First Photo (2018)

Photo: @greyroamer Wig: @ardawigs Westly Classic and XL clip in extension classic in dark blue. Gown pattern: @fireflypath Ranger pattern (simplicity pattern 8363)

Last Photo (2020)

Photo: @karamelphotography Wings and ear fancies: @glimmerfaecreations Staff mentor: @skybulletcp Wig: @ardawigs Westly CLASSIC and extra long hair clip in dark blue. Outfit pattern by @fireflypath, the simplicity pattern fantasy ranger 8363.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-12-25

I’m not going to spend time BLOGGING an upd8 on Christmas morning!

...yes I am who the fuck am I kidding.  (Bonus stuff and Hiveswap are still well on hold though.)

So are we gonna follow up on the main ship?  Probably not, right, with that perfect Karkat point to cut away, right?  We’re just going to leave Roxy’s question hanging, as well as makeouts etiquette, and leave while having seen a COUPLE FRAMES of non-possessed canon Jade with only whatever fun fanart was inspired across the internet by the moment to tide us over????

Yeah, probably.

Ugh, more Dirk.  I guess it’s overdue.  :(

> CHAPTER 16. Welcome to my Secret Lair

Oh huh, I guess not?  So... Jane’s, or Rose and Kanaya’s?

Karkat stays for longer than John thought he would. They talk a bit, but mostly they are quiet. Eventually, Karkat gets called away on yet more important war business, leaving John with one final touch on the shoulder. John leans into it in response, though he’s a bit ashamed of chasing down a sliver of physical affection so soon after obliterating Karkat’s evening like he had.

Pretty much, yeah.  Can’t blame either of them.

When Karkat is finally gone, John still doesn’t move. It isn’t as though he has nowhere else to go, since there are quite a few places he might attempt to make himself useful, for better or for worse.

You’re still abandoning the task that was explicitly yours to protect your literal kid and his friends, but, oh well.  Low-point.  Dave dead, house dead, broke news, I get it.

He just doesn’t feel ready for that yet. The remnants of his house are still smoldering, and he can’t stop staring at them. It would make sense, he thinks, to want to root around through the rubble for anything that’s still intact; some half-charred keepsake to claim as the last thing left that’s still his. But he doesn’t want to do it, and he doesn’t want to think about it. And he still can’t move.

Can’t move.  No Breath huh?  What’s going to get him to, then?

> (==>)

Oh boy, that might help.  XD  She’s pretty good at that.

> (==>)

Still with the waistline gap.  And was his phone always yellow like his God-Tier shoes?

ROXY: hey john can u do me a quick solid ROXY: actly idk how quick itll be but its definitely solid ROXY: harry anderson says i just missed u being here but could u skip back on over?

Nice, huh!  No judgment, just a hey-any-chance-you-could-swing-back.  He sort of needs to be needed right now, in a simple, almost everyday non-judgmental way I guess.  (That’s what he NEEDED anyway-- whether he deserved it though is up for debate.)

ROXY: i need help w/smth and yr darling boy is holed up in his room working on some fuckin craft project or other and cant be bothered

YES SEW JOHN A BETTER FITTING FUCKING OUTFIT

ROXY: and now that me and u are freshly on speakin terms again i might as well take advantage of that olive branch and put u to work ROXY: assumin you havent died in an air raid, that is ROXY: which id also be interested in knowin about so if u wld be so kind as to reply instead of leavin me hangin

Heheheh.  Gosh Roxy is always the best.

JOHN: yea yea sorry im here. JOHN: i just had a hard time getting my phone out of these fucking tiny pants.

Hah.

JOHN: and also my house is bombed out so i'm kinda grappling with that. JOHN: but i honestly am not sure how much longer i need to sit around staring at it. trying to align my memories of my youth with whatever is happening right now so JOHN: short version is no i’m not dead, and yeah i can come back over there and help you out. ROXY: oh sweet yr alive and down to do manual labor its a win/win JOHN: see you soon.

Yep!  Pulled away from all the metaphorical, ultra-meaningful bullshit, back to some brass tacks with some easy humor.  Definitely something Roxy can do well.~

> (==>)

EXCUSE ME.  What is that outfit and pose.  Did you--

ROXY: sup ROXY: follow me ROXY: well were just going to my room so i guess technically u know the way JOHN: haha ok.

Did you invite him over for the manual labor of banging you while your son is sewing in the other room

Or maybe the labor is making him a new sibling.  JFC

Is this plan part of why we got the sudden content warning that was mocked or was that mainly for Hiveswap 

John follows, trying to shake the ominous feeling he got from what she’d just said. He’d been in and out of this house a lot in the past few days. Why should this be any different?

I DUNNO JOHN DOES THIS SEEM DIFFERENT TO YOU

> (==>)

Yea this seems like a fucc room.

JOHN: it’s not like i could forget! ROXY: ya i guess u only really saw the living room when you were here the other day but i have changed some stuff up ROXY: done a lil redecoratin here n there

So it’s MORE of a fucc room than previously >__>”

ROXY: may have to do a smidge more if my old bff decides im next on the list for bombing out ROXY: but so far so good

Ah geez.

ROXY: just a coupla exploded cars in the yard from some shenanigans our dear son and his friends were in but u kno it is what it is!!!

Well, that’ll buff out easy.

ROXY: can i get u anything? ROXY: just made some coffee JOHN: no, uh, i’m good.

Of course she has a fancy handled winecoffeeglass  (and the handle does look ridiculous but it’d be too hot to hold otherwise)

Roxy shrugs and swirls her own coffee around in her novelty mug. John looks around. A lot about the room is the same. The family photos, the rug. There’s a lot more cat stuff in there now, though. The bed is new. John feels like he’s about to take a test he hasn’t studied for. He makes himself focus on what she’s saying.

That would be the feeling.

> (==>)

MY GOD.  Roxy is so fucking good at this holy shit

She KNOWS she’s making him squirm and she loves it

JOHN: so uh anyway. JOHN: what was this favor? ROXY: yo why dont u just come rest yr tush for a bit ROXY: take a lil relax next 2 me here JOHN: haha uh. JOHN: roxy i uh. JOHN: im flattered, but i don’t know if that’s really the right step right now. JOHN: don’t get me wrong, everything seems so fucked up right now that when i try to think about what might actually BE the right step, it feels like a huge cartoon question mark might physically manifest over my head. JOHN: but I’m not sure if um rekindling our physical relationship is really the best--

So is Roxy trolling him, about to reveal she wasn’t thinking of sex and was just making things seem sultry?  Or just had “lol jk” as an option-select, maybe.

> (==>)

ROXY: r u kiddin me rn egbert JOHN: i’m not? unless you were, in which case yeah lets say i was also kidding. JOHN: oh my god, i’m sorry, i don’t know why this making me freak out.

OH NOOO NOT THE DISDAAAAIN - CRITICAL HIT D:

ROXY: i remember our past boot knockin with fondness but that is a situation im not interested in revisiting

boot knockin XD

ROXY: look john ROXY: i was trying to be polite about it ROXY: offering u sustenance n rest n all ROXY: but you look like shit ROXY: i just wanted to catch up on the whole heinous war situation were in and maybe check in on e/o before leaping strait to the real n actual nonsexual manual labor favor i have in mind for u JOHN: oh.

Hey, she can’t help looking sexy she’s too good at it.

Is the manual labor moving the crashed cars?  Can’t Roxy pull that off on her own, or... banish the cars to the void or something?  (Oh, but WOULD she want to do it on her own when she can rope in John and bring him down to earth by giving him a useful task?  And admittedly his strength and wallet would make things easier.)

John feels his shoulders unbunch. Of course. Yeah. He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced?

Probably some gender stuff mixed up in there too, June.

He doesn’t know, but he believes Roxy that he must look pretty haggard. He probably feels haggard? Maybe sitting down will feel better.

Just put your feet up yeah

> (==>)

WHAT A CUTE IMAGE

JOHN: sorry. like i said, my "how to react to stuff" meter is completely fucked right now. ROXY: thats fair bud

she’s used to being patient with you don’t worry otherwise you never would’ve gotten this far

ROXY: real fast i do need to do a quick takeback of all that shit i said last time we talked about janey not being literally the most evil person we knew or whatever ROXY: i guess i was hopped up on arguin or somethin since that was before we hit our conversational vibe bc of course u were right and i shoulda listened

Ouch.  Yeah, we saw just lately just how far off the deep end she was.  (Where was that funny upd8 reaction art summarizing the bit where Kanaya was holding Tavros hostage and Jane was transparently debating “hmm do I let my son die?” and Kanaya and Tavros were just looking at each-other flat-mouthed nervous?  I REALLY wanted to share that but I don’t usually want to reblog or put most stuff HS^2 not under a read-more, for spoiler purposes, usually.)

ROXY: im just glad ur ok ROXY: or like alive JOHN: yeah, jury's still out on "ok" but, you know. ROXY: ya ROXY: u said ur house is gone?? JOHN: yep. JOHN: completely. ROXY: jeez ROXY: i would ask how ur feelin but like the answer 2 that has got 2b "prtty bad"

Talk it ouuuut~~  get those feels out there and articulated john

JOHN: yeah. JOHN: i mean. JOHN: no? JOHN: it’s weird. JOHN: it feels like it should be a bigger deal, I guess? JOHN: like it’s my HOUSE. JOHN: but mostly it always felt like my dad’s house? JOHN: and when i started living there after i moved out of here, it was like i crammed myself back into whatever was left of my kid self? JOHN: and it didn’t feel good, but it at least was familiar, you know? JOHN: like living there let me feel closer to my dad, trying to be like the way i remember him, or like how i remember him wanting me to be, or something? JOHN: and i didn’t realize how much i hated doing that until i saw it all go up in flames. JOHN: so i guess i could have used my powers to stop the fire and save whatever was left of the place, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it. JOHN: like some fucked up part of me was glad i got there too late? JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison. JOHN: and even now i keep trying to explain it away, as though it’s because of how fucked up everything else is that it made me feel good. JOHN: but that’s just bullshit. JOHN: it DID feel good. JOHN: i DO feel free. JOHN: sorry.

I was kind of saying some Breath/Blood stuff at the time of him losing his last tie to his stubborn sticking-to-his-kid-self bit?  Except now we’re mixing it in with June Egbert and his gender-identity questions too.

ROXY: no need 2 apologize ROXY: we just delved in2 my whole gender thing last time so it seems fine for u to have a turn JOHN: i didn’t say it was a gender thing.

Oh shit

ROXY: well no i just meant like i did some sharing ROXY: like referrin 2 the topic i brought up when we chatted last ROXY: but like now that u mention it ROXY: *meaningful pause* JOHN: … JOHN: i JOHN: ROXY: lol well we can move on 2 the favor part if youd rather ROXY: stick a lil pin in that topic n come back 2 it when u have had sleep

Are you just INCREDIBLY incisive Roxy or have you and John talked about this before?

ROXY: like i said the other day its not like this shits figureoutable in 1 sitting anyways JOHN: yeah... ROXY: sooooooo ROXY: movin on

It’s just fine for Roxy to slow-roll this yeah, if she’s going to pry open that door a little

ROXY: dont be mad but theres a part of the house u didnt know abt the whole time u lived here JOHN: what? ROXY: yea ROXY: i got a secret lair ROXY: for my sciences

OH FUCK YES SCIENCE LAB, of COURSE Roxy would want a cool science lab basement because she always wants a cool science lab basement

ROXY: and i get to it via a transportalizer underneath our bed ROXY: which is 2 heavy 2 move by my lonesome so i just needed to borrow some o your aforementioned powers of wind

Okay no.  Wait.  What the fuck?

First of all, as funny and MSPaintAdventures-y as furniture being in the way of things is, why would you block it with a bed too heavy to move, but,

Second of all, more importantly, how is a GOD-TIER ROXY not strong enough to lift a heavy bed?!?!?!?  Either she’s lying to get John involved in things or this is a gendered cop-out because these characters are superheroes at the TOP of their echeladders, given obnoxiously powerful video-game strength and athletics only to then have ascended into DEITIES.  God-Tier Roxy could probably have lifted a bed like that when she was SEVENTEEN!  And now she’s an ADULT, out-of-shape or otherwise!  If this were a whole CAR I might be willing to handwave it, but just a heavy BED?!?  And none of the GUYS are going to have this much trouble lifting a bed like this, are they??  This just feels like following classic cartoony gender tropes in the complete absence of these characters’ super powers, what the fuck, and also Roxy if you didn’t make it Transportalizer-only access you could have given it an entrance you could phase through with your fancy powers to get to.  FUCK.

This feels stupid.

ROXY: so if u dont mind woosh away JOHN: uh ok, well... JOHN: a secret science lair, sure, i can deal with that. JOHN: why not! JOHN: it doesn’t work out great when i do the windy thing indoors, though. ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

You’re already THIS sensitive about gendertalk?

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push ROXY: we both got sick muscles ROXY: no other adjectives necessary JOHN: yeah ok. ROXY: on 3?

Please, please reinforce the idea that they both have sick strength, because they fucking do and the idea that Roxy actually a hundred percent NEEDED John to do this is BS.

> (==>)

JOHN: holy shit? ROXY: sorry to lop yet another huge scoop onto ur lil brains ice cream revelation sundae JOHN: so wait, if this thing's always been under the bed, how’d you get down here before without me? ROXY: well thats neither here nor there john JOHN: i mean it is kinda. Here. ROXY: fine ok checkmate ROXY: i dont ACTUALLY need ur nerdgrit for this escapade ROXY: like im sorry but i said it ROXY: i mostly just wanted to see you and show u wats down here

THANK FUCKING CHRIST.

If that wasn’t actually just a lie to get him involved I was going to stay SO mad.  Of COURSE Roxy can move a fucking BED no matter how heavy it is.  OF COURSE.

ROXY: and also uve been ~sent for~ JOHN: ok but like ROXY: john i am inviting u 2 my inner sanctum ROXY: i am literally bringing out the word "sanctum" in case u werent already clued in 2 how cool this is ROXY: so do u wanna go into my secret lair or wat JOHN: yeah!? JOHN: yes? i guess? ROXY: aight good

Yes John of course you want to stop fighting it

ROXY: then as they told me in the hospital before lil h a was born ROXY: just push

eyeroll, but yeah, of course

> (==>)

Oh cool, sprite form version of her loungewear.

> (==>)

Sorry for my compulsion to post every full-frame image of Roxy in this awesome outfi-WERE YOU KEEPING CALLIOPE UNDER YOUR BED THIS WHOLE TIME?!?????

That’s like... almost a fucking metaphor isn’t it????  For the relationship you preferred in the other timeline and possibly THIS one TOO or

ROXY: hey callieee i got him ROXY: o damn john sorry i shoulda also told u callies here weve been hangin out again ROXY: 1 more freak for ur bean

Oh huh, so this isn’t an always thing.  And these two can get close in more than one timeline where it would’ve worked out nicely.  :)

JOHN: oh it's ok, my bean feels pretty well adjusted to freakage at this point so keep them coming if you like! ROXY: k cool i will JOHN: do i get to know what that big thing under the sheet is? ROXY: hmmmmmm no JOHN: oh ok. JOHN: are you sure? i mean, it seems like a pretty prominent feature of the room. JOHN: space. JOHN: wherever we are. ROXY: and a totally mysterious n COMPLETELY inconspicuous feature it will have to remain for now ROXY: we r kinda in a hurry here fyi ROXY: and by that i mean ROXY: we are in precisely the amount of hurry that means im excused from having to a that specific q rn JOHN: right, sorry. JOHN: i will pay no attention to the object behind the curtain. ROXY: u catch on fast egbert ROXY: anyway theres more cool info coming so just follow me

I don’t have any big theories.  Is it just the Hiveswap device or something?  If Calliope helped with it it’d help explain the Cherubic theme.

> (==>)

JOHN: so... this is all downstairs? JOHN: it seems like you had a lot of work done. ROXY: well no not x actly ROXY: were in the old meteor JOHN: under the house??? ROXY: ok so ROXY: in hindsight it may have been a bit misleading 2 say like ROXY: "downstairs" ROXY: in reference to a place which is hells of buried underground and may not actually be literally under the house ROXY: but there is no time to explain all that rn john so instead im going to refer u to my adorable little green friend here CALLIOPE: #U_U# ROXY: (hehe) CALLIOPE: *AHEM* CALLIOPE: hi john! CALLIOPE: long time no see. ^u^

Cherubs just really like dark cavelike places full of weird tech don’t they.

> (==>)

THEY’RE SO CUTE

JOHN: oh, uh. hey callie! JOHN: it sure has been a while huh. JOHN: now that i think about it, the last time the three of us hung out like this... CALLIOPE: was when i was aggressively third wheeling yoUr prenUptial coUrtship? CALLIOPE: if yoU dont mind, john, i'd rather not rehash that period of oUr lives. CALLIOPE: it was more than a little painfUl for me. JOHN: oh. JOHN: god, jeez, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-- CALLIOPE: hee hee john i am only pUlling yoUr leg, don't worry. CALLIOPE: if anything i was personally a little thrilled with how things shook oUt in that respect. CALLIOPE: imagine, if yoU will, a yoUng cherUb raised in solitUde, whose only solace was the convolUted and tUmUltUoUs romantic schemata she projected onto her only friends from another Universe. CALLIOPE: and then fUrther imagine that this yoUng cherUb, throUgh varioUs even *more* convolUted contrivances, ended Up in the company of those selfsafe friends as an eqUal participant in their sphere of social discoUrse! CALLIOPE: it is a joy the like of which yoU possibly cannot fathom. u_u

Reinforcing that things turning out this way was in fact the FANTASY that Calliope was writing over in the Canon timeline.  Just, heavily, HEAVILY implied that the Candy timeline is -- or at least originated as -- Calliope’s fanfiction as a Muse of Space, and its competition for audience interest with canon is the essential conflict between alt!Calliope and Dirk (or Dirk and Andrew Hussie).

CALLIOPE: so to pUt it simply, getting to experience sUch emotional drama myself was an impossibly enriching experience. CALLIOPE: possibly a first for my species! CALLIOPE: it's actUally qUite interesting, if yoU ROXY: *nudge* CALLIOPE: oh, right. yes. i'm getting a little carried away, haha. CALLIOPE: argh, i'm sorry, this is not how i planned to begin this vital conversation.

Vital conversation?  What sorta truth-bombs are coming?

CALLIOPE: but to sUmmarise, what i was trying to say is: CALLIOPE: don't beat yourself Up aboUt it john. CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr. CALLIOPE: so i consider Us aboUt even at this point. JOHN: hahaha!!! JOHN: okay, well that's good to know! CALLIOPE: ^u^

Holy SHIT that was savage!  And we’ll NEVER know whether or not she really intended it so savagely, either.~

JOHN: so um... JOHN: i hear that there's this big secret thing you wanna tell me about? CALLIOPE: oh right, yes of course! CALLIOPE: let me jUst say first of all how thrilled i am that yoU're on board. CALLIOPE: i wasn't sUre if yoUr natUral inclinations woUld have preclUded yoUr coming to such a place as this, and yet here yoU are. CALLIOPE: this whole endeavoUr will be *so* mUch easier with yoUr help.

Uh oh.

Hopefully babies aren’t involved.

JOHN: oh! well, shucks. JOHN: not really sure what that means but i'm just glad to be of use somewhere, haha. JOHN: which, speaking of somewhere, CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are. CALLIOPE: how much do yoU know aboUt black holes? JOHN: um... like, the big space things? CALLIOPE: they aren't always big actUally, and in fact their relative smallness is practically their defining qUality. JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: bUt okay i think we are on the same page. CALLIOPE: so, what if i told yoU that we are inside of a black hole right now.

Oh dear, we’re getting into the canon/noncanon divide?

JOHN: um... JOHN: like, HERE? JOHN: we just transportalized into a black hole? CALLIOPE: no, i mean, what if oUr whole WORLD was inside a black hole. JOHN: ok.

Yeah, that’s gonna be John’s reaction.  “ok.”  Pretty much inevitable.

CALLIOPE: earth c, or at least oUr version of it, has, from the moment we crossed the victory threshold, been inside a black hole. JOHN: ok. CALLIOPE: and not just any black hole, bUt the very black hole in which the green sUn Ultimately met its demise, allowing oUr victory in the first instance! JOHN: huh! ROXY: ("huh!") ROXY: (rofl my fucking ao egbert) JOHN: (shhhh!)

And Roxy enjoys his non-reaction reactions as much as we do, hehe.

CALLIOPE: bUt, paradoxically, the critical moment which determined its capture within the black hole happened *after* that point. CALLIOPE: i refer of coUrse to yoUr decision not to retUrn to the mediUm and fight my brother. JOHN: wait, wait. JOHN: you mean, the meat and candy thing? JOHN: oh my god. JOHN: you mean i actually DID make a mistake that day. CALLIOPE: well, that's not exactly what that-- JOHN: ugh, i fucking KNEW it! JOHN: i'm so sorry. JOHN: i'm so sorry that i put the earth inside a black hole everyone. ): ROXY: john ROXY: listen ROXY: u have got to get out of this mindset i am begging you JOHN: ):

Yeah shake him out of this shit.

ROXY: your choice literally didnt matter ROXY: the whole thing was symbolic in the first place ROXY: literally symbolic in the case of the picnic i mean come on ROXY: it was just some steak and a plate of candy suckers JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: i mean, i wouldn't go so far as to say that the meal we shared was unimportant, given the sacred significance of the two options i presented. CALLIOPE: but yes, yoUr choice of snack was infinitely less important than the choice which it presaged. CALLIOPE: and even then, calling it a choice woUld be sorely misleading. CALLIOPE: think of it like a coin flip. CALLIOPE: the series of events that led to Us being trapped beyond the event horizon of an Ubermassive black hole could be considered "tails", while the events which would have occUrred otherwise could be considered "heads". CALLIOPE: since both were possible, and paradox space is the way it is, they actUally both happened. and we jUst "happened" (hee hee) to get tails instead of heads. JOHN: you mean we ended up with the bad possibility. CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are". JOHN: o...kay... CALLIOPE: u_u

Yeah, it’s going to take a bit more than that to convince him he didn’t make the “wrong decision”.

CALLIOPE: i realise that this may be a lot to process. CALLIOPE: it's easy to forget that this wasn't obvioUs to everyone from the beginning. CALLIOPE: anyway, the reason i went on this tangent in the first place was to explain that the space we are standing in right now has a special significance, in that it is the location which corresponds to the black hole's singUlarity. JOHN: oh, wow. JOHN: um. JOHN: ok so, sorry if this is a dumb question to ask suddenly, but what does being inside of a black hole actually... mean for us? JOHN: is that bad? JOHN: is it like in movie, um, JOHN: shoot. JOHN: roxy what was that matthew mcconaughey movie from your earth that we watched? ROXY: u mean interstellar JOHN: RIGHT. JOHN: the one with the organ. JOHN: man. i cried at that movie so much. ROXY: lol u can say that again ROXY: iirc at least part of y u got so weepy was the fact that u couldnt believe a version of earth existed where ppl got 2 watch more mcconaughey films than you JOHN: listen. JOHN: i simply don't think you all appreciated the gift you were given. CALLIOPE: i don't believe i'm familiar with this particular film ^u^;; ROXY: oh dont worry cal you didnt miss much JOHN: (gasp)

This is all gold

ROXY: but the important point is that no its not really an interstellar type situation here egbert ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love JOHN: aw.

Dammit, now we have to be on the lookout for that possibility.  Or it did sort of already happen more than once to John.  ...Whatever.

CALLIOPE: to go back to your original question, john. CALLIOPE: it's not strictly speaking "bad" for Us to be inside of a black hole, mUch thoUgh that contradicts most of what anyone knows about them. CALLIOPE: of coUrse, if we had fallen into it, that woUld be a whole other kettle of fish. CALLIOPE: the tidal forces woUld have stretched Us all into spaghetti and then ripped us apart! CALLIOPE: bUt the natUre of oUr arrival was more akin to simply "being" here, sUddenly. one moment we were not, and the next moment we were, and somehow always had been. CALLIOPE: in everyday, practical terms, being inside of a black hole has very little bearing on Us. CALLIOPE: i mean, the natUre of space and time is a little finicky in here, bUt for the most part it doesn't seem to be anything too oUt of the ordinary. CALLIOPE: bUt beyond that, it means that we are sealed away from the rest of existence. CALLIOPE: oUr sphere of inflUence is limited to the sphere of the black hole's bounding horizon. CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist! JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...? CALLIOPE: almost certainly not!

No?  So this doesn’t have to do with the divide?

CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now. one of them is to be an all-powerfUl being with control over the very fabric of space, with the energy of two Universes at yoUr disposal. CALLIOPE: in which case, escape woUld become rather trivial, if a little Unscientific. JOHN: ok. i am going to assume that we can't just do that. CALLIOPE: yoU've hit the nail on the head, UnfortUnately. U_U CALLIOPE: the method i described was the one employed by my alternate self, who yoU may recall crashed through the event horizon in the body that once belonged to jade harley. CALLIOPE: she departed through a pUnctUre she created in the black hole's surface shortly after consUming my brother, a deed which provided her with the necessary "oomph", and which was frankly rather breathtaking to watch. =u= CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

What the heck?  Calliope SAW all this?  Is this her Muse powers at work, letting her observe these things, or was she there?  And John certainly did NOT see ANY of what Calliope just said happen.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

So we’re going to find that out if we haven’t already.  Maybe something to do with the way Vrissy just conks out narcoleptically?

JOHN: ...right. JOHN: so... let me just get this straight. JOHN: knowing that we're inside of a black hole... does that actually change anything? JOHN: like, can't we just go on living like normal? CALLIOPE: oh absolUtely not. CALLIOPE: i don't know if yoU've noticed john bUt this world is on the brink of a total cataclysm. JOHN: oh.

Um, what?

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval. CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality. CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u JOHN: that's... certainly one way to put it, yeah...

No plot-armor for your entire timeline, I guess, yep.  Outside of canon, we can imagine and write about ANYTHING happening to the characters, or just drop their existence entirely, much like a doomed offshoot timeline.  It’s a plot stability that depended heavily on the threat of Lord English and being trapped in a story, and without it things are bound to see a BIT chaotic (or “degrading” if you view it as subjected to the whims of fanfic writers, certainly).

CALLIOPE: at first, i believed that this was simply necessary. Us playing tails to oUr coUnterparts' heads, the black to their white, and so forth. CALLIOPE: bUt over the years i have come to the conclUsion that this is simply not kosher. ROXY: its total bs is what it is CALLIOPE: right, yes. CALLIOPE: a steaming pile of bUllshite. CALLIOPE: and so we have decided that something needs to be done aboUt it.

Ah fuck.  You’re going to regulate non-canon?  “Canonize” it?  Is the fact that you eventually succeed at whatever it is you’re trying to do part of why we have the story presented to us in this bifurcated structure?

ROXY: this is finally where u come in jegbert ROXY: we gots quests for yous CALLIOPE: hee hee, yes. CALLIOPE: or *a* quest, to be specific. JOHN: oh boy! ROXY: (this fkin nerd i s2g)

Roxy and Calliope setting him on this quest as a Rogue of Void and a Muse of Space feels fitting.

JOHN: i'm not sure how i can go about freeing us from a hellish space prison, but i'm up for giving it a try i guess? JOHN: i have... literally nothing better to be doing at this point. except for maybe hanging out with harry anderson. ROXY: nice save lol

YEAH WE’RE STILL GLOSSING OVER HOW YOU LEFT HIM UNPROTECTED, JERK

ROXY: but u dont need to worry abt busting us outta space jail tbh ROXY: thats not ur problem to fix JOHN: oh. JOHN: i'm... not sure i follow, then. ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity. ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan. CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak. CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself? CALLIOPE: ... CALLIOPE: phew. okay, i'm finished. CALLIOPE: CALLIOPE: sorry, that took longer than i expected to go throUgh.

..............................

OOooooh, kay.

Whatever this is, it’s going to be really weird and PROBABLY infuriating and/or shippy, and I’m probably not going to like it.  Plus it seems like it’s some sort of inverse belated canonization of some other black-hole-rescue theories I went on about at some point.  Although, related to that link, “aspect of freedom” if anyone wasn’t paying attention!  That’s a (sorta-)canon mention of the purpose of it!

They’re going to attention-wh-- attention-hog themselves out of the black hole so that they’re “considered canon” too, or close enough.  Huh.

ROXY: what r u talking about cals that was great ROXY: i could listen 2 u plotsplain for years CALLIOPE: oh you >u< ROXY: fyi this was why i wanted u to get a move on eggbread ROXY: so callie could have more time 2 infodump ROXY: thats love bitchhhhhh JOHN: hahaha. JOHN: ok, well, i think i understood all that?

Love with who? Callie, John, both?

In reality, John isn’t sure what most of this means. But on balance, it feels okay? He’s gone back and forth about a hundred times in the last week about where his place in everything is, so he might as well ride this out. Plus, the last time a Lalonde kind of told him to do something, he thinks that he chose not to, and look where that got him. And it’s not like he has other plans. He may as well do this! It’s at least going to get him involved in things again, if nothing else. He turns to go, and then hears a sound. It’s the sound of feet and knocking on doors, echoed through stone and digital static.

Oh shit.  Is Andrew trapped behind some fourth walls behind the curtains.

> (==>)

Oh RIGHT also that DEVICE is where they want to bring Vriska.  Are they going to overturn part of canon itself with a super-retcon thus making this timeline unbelievably relevant or--?  Maybe make all the PESTERQUESTS canon or something?!  I don’t know.  Maybe they’re INTENTIONALLY starting the game like Vriska wanted to??????

Guh, this is something so big that I don’t WANT to theorize about it, do I.

JOHN: did you hear that? ROXY: wha ROXY: oh yeah uh ROXY: i may have messaged rose and kan and jade to check on them too ROXY: so its prob onea them showin up ROXY: they don’t need to know bout all this tho ROXY: we got time to chat with them b4 u go get vriska

No, even if it’s a knock at the somehow-top-level-house-even-under-buried-- oh, right, maybe it’s covering in part a monitoring system that looks up there.  But still, part of that sound was DOUBTLESS these two hiding something, all standing in front of the curtain like that.

JOHN: i’ll go stall em. ROXY: thx babe ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one’s fine. ROXY: oh good ok see u up there soon!

How is calling your significant other “babe” not cool REGARDLESS of gender?!  Like wasn’t that always cool? --Oh wait is it because they’re not together or... but... guh, I don’t know.

Anyway, see y’all after the holidays at least.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

True Faith (Part 1.) (Favored Ones, Part 17.)

Series description: Many things were surely fucked up in the year 2038, but no-one ever told anyone how all of it went down. What happened before a group of people left for Seattle to handle personal matters? Why did one girl refuse to leave all of it be? And why there were so many dead in the end?

Quote for the chapter: “I feel so extraordinary... Something's got a hold on me.” - Lotte Kestner

Part summary: Many could feel that something’s in the air when Ellie started to drift away from the reality. And the only thing that could save her and put stop to all of these thoughts was you.

A/N: Okay, okay. I know I am going against the cannon game now, because Seatlle happened at the end of March of 2038, but trust me, this slower pace will pay off in the end. And boy, does it feel good to jump back to TLOU fandom.

Warnings: Gore, angst, description of hatred and other mental states.

Word count: 3.2 K

Tagging:   @nemodoren @xxgoldenhour @missdictatorme​​ @peakymarvels​​ @davnwillcome​ @pickleriiick​ @jodiereedus22​ @gladiosamicitias​ @tamkashi​ @eternallyvenus​ @avengerssstuff​ @fangirl-inthe-us​ @avery-miller​ @mikah-writes​ @mad-hatter-98​ @sadiaafrin99​ @flavorishy

Series master list: H E R E

Joel Miller’s playlist for the bonfire occasions: H E R E

Youtube playlists: JACKSON DAYS | SEATTLE DAYS

"I've seen what happened down there, sugar." - A voice resonated through the darkness, suddenly. It seemed as if you were somewhere deep underwater. There were this cracking sounds inside of your head, making your ears ache, yet the burden you were feeling in your heart was way worse than that. But the voice was sharp, almost deafening. And sadly, you wouldn't change the voice with anyone else's. It felt nice, but horrifying at the same time to hear her. - "How are you holdin' up, hm? You're still sure you'll outrun me in a race?"

Slowly, you took a breath in, looking around you as you stood there. It was the fucking pottery shop you've been in, the one you've visited her in a thousand times. The one you remembered by your heart. And your heart was sinking low when you saw her... Just sitting there. As if she never actually left you in Jackson alone. She was looking at the machine in front of her, making a mug out of scratch. Just like the last time you've had a proper conversation with the lady. Well... You've spoken at the hospital, but... The pottery shop reminded you of Eve the most.

"Given how your leg looks like, I suppose you ain't be runnin' for quite a long time, honey." - The woman smiled at one of her creations, slowly taking it to her palm as she started to draw another of her flowers on it.

"You're dead, you know that, right?" - You answered in a joking manner. Jesus, they must've given you some darn good drugs for you to reach such a state. No matter if it were the soldiers or Bobby, they did hella good job. - "I've been talking to your tombstone for the last few months." - At that, Eve gave you a nasty grin, tapping the side of her head with her index finger.

"As long as you're aware of it, I know it. You're not so dumb that you'd make out this is real, huh?" - The woman asked you with a light chuckle at the end, leaning her back into the chair. Sure, it was obvious that you're talking to yourself. But your brain didn't want to syke you out, even more, to present you sitting... Somewhere. It could be also Joel or Ellie whom your brain would choose to project... But it was her. - "I thought that. But really, Miller? You, sugar, are surprisin' me even when I'm dead, I tell you that."

"You've caught a few words from Tommy and Joel here and there, but you never spoke like a Texas-born woman." - You answered instead of straight answering the lady. At that, she chuckled, shook her head, and looked at you. She seemed... Different. As if she got younger. She had fewer wrinkles and her eyes were full of life.

"I'm just what you've made of me, you know? This is how you remember me now. So thanks for agein' me down a bit. Also, the accent suits me, huh?" - The woman said. Technically yeah, you said to yourself, but that wasn't the subject of the conversation at the moment. - "That's what you wanted, hm? And I can understand that. Have my wrinkly face on your mind all the time... It would sadden me too." - She joked around, making you sadden at the statement. That was exactly what you wanted to happen. And until that point, it was working. But now, you wanted to remember Eve just the way she was, with all her wrinkles, grins and jokes.  

"Do you realize... That if you wouldn't go on the patrol with Tommy... Then maybe, the man you've fallen in love with would be dead? Most likely?" - Eve leaned her head to her shoulder, sending you a concerned look.

"What good does it bring when I'm most likely dead?" - You asked back immediately. The imagination inside your head chuckled, looking away for a moment. - "If you'd be dead, sugar, we wouldn't be havin' this conversation at all. Dyin', yeah, sure, maybe, but dead? Hell no." - The woman dismissed with a dry chuckle, getting up on her legs to pour herself a glass of water.

"What now?" - Eve asked you, looking out of the window into the void around the pottery shop. For a moment, you were looking at her back, and because she knew you don't know what to say, she started to talk again. - "I mean... These people are there somewhere. Abby and Owen ran away just when your friends showed up. Doesn't that make you worried, honey?" - Her voice was resonating through your ears, there were still these cracking sounds inside your ears. What you've been trying to tell to yourself? Did it make any sense?

"What is your point?" - You asked after a moment of thinking, having the old woman turning to you. Suddenly, her face started to re-shift into someone else as the surroundings changed with it, making you dizzy in the process. Of course, it was Joel's house, and you had to close your eyes instead of looking at the man, falling on the ground right after as you threw up. You were panicking, Abby's face was flashing in front of your eyes accompanied by the manic expression in her face. The whole thing was about Joel, right? So this was what your brain immediately clicks to when you'll see him? Abby and her knife? Jesus Christ, it was a lot take in.

But as soon as the man touched your shoulder, it was like flipping the card around - finding yourself in his embrace as you both were falling asleep just hours before the patrol. But the touch wasn't making you feel good at all. To be honest, your eyes were slowly slipping towards the window as you searched for something in the darkness. It took you a long time to figure out where she was standing, but when you did... She was still standing there, looking into the window. And you were watching her back.

Hell, you couldn't make out what the fuck was that all about, but you've been trapped in a loop, circling between Joel and Abby. And you couldn't tell how long is that going to take. And neither could they.

Meanwhile, in Jackson:

The weather got drastically better after everything went down. At least the blizzards had stopped and the sun was slowly melting the snow everywhere. The Jackson was just going forward, not stopping because of what happened. Why should the whole city stop because of two people? Sure, people were saddened by what happened to you, but it wasn't their business in the slightest. Some animals needed to be taken care of, clothes to be repaired and pottery to be made. Tommy was a prominent figure in the hierarchy of Jackson, but the whole responsibility was put directly on Maria's shoulders.

There was one person whose world had stopped completely. All they did was that they sit at their home all the time, trying to think of a single reason why the fuck would someone do such terrible things to other human beings without having the reason to? Something like a regular sleep schedule? They didn't know what was that? The image of Tommy laying in blood on the ground was still carved inside their brain as they woke up every night with nightmares.

If there was something that needed to be said about Tommy, he was alive. Alive, yet not awaken. There was many possible outcomes for Tommy - he could wake up and have a memory loss. He could wake up and be crippled, whether physically or mentally. Tommy may never have the chance to talk like normal people. And... Bobby was sure that his condition is stable for now, but really, there was also a possibility they overlooked even the smallest crack in his skull. As soon as Joel brought the boy, Bobby started to check his skull, stopping the bleeding - when that was done, she sewed and took care of the wound, moving on to his broken knee and left forearm. And there was the possibility that he has a concussion, internal bleeding, and many other things. The people did a number on him.

And as for Y/N... Holy fuck. Bobby had never seen such screwed up ligaments above the knee. They also needed to tear a few nails off your fingers because the nails completely tore if off from the nail beds. It was pretty disgusting, sure, but Bobby was trying to keep you alive. While no-one was sure if Tommy has internal bleeding, Bobby almost cried with happiness when she was sure you didn't have it - as soon as your nose was put back in place, and it wasn't as swollen as when Dina brought you in, your breathing got into the normal state. Also, your pulse was checking up perfectly, so apart from the reality that your upper thigh muscles were ripped apart.

Sure, most likely, you'll be able to walk normally once again... After some time. But it was obvious that you'll be climbing for a few months at least. But most likely, you were about to be okay.

This was making the person at least a bit calm. But Ellie couldn't help herself - she wasn't falling asleep at night, all she could do was to think about the persons. Who were they? Where did they come from? Sure, she went back to the cabin to look through it, but not even the dead man Dina had shoot had nothing on his. These people were ready to leave at any given time. These weren't some stupid hunters, cannibals, or anyone like that. These people knew what they were doing. But... What did they search for? Why did they need to fuck you up when you were innocent? How did you and Tommy even get into the fucking cabin in the first place? Did they drag you in?

Ellie sat in the cabin for quite some time, on the couch, watching the stain of Tommy's blood, remembering every second of finding her uncle laying there, barely breathing and unconscious. The golf club was thrown on the ground and the window was opened up as someone ran away from the room. Now, it was too late to look for them, which was making Ellie more desperate to find them. The snow was now far gone, they didn't leave anything behind - inside or outside the house.

It didn't matter how much Dina was trying to make Ellie smile again - Ellie was still wearing the same expression, barely talking, looking into the ground as the incident wasn't leaving her head. She was only waiting for you or Tommy to wake up - and as soon as she'd hear who they were, she was ready to sneak out and come for each of them. It was inside her every time the opened the door to her house. As soon as she unlocked it, the image of Tommy laying in his blood just flashed in front of her eyes, making her panic for a second. Usually, she sat down on her bed, put a hand on her chest, and tried to breathe deeply. Soon enough, she stopped crying every time she saw Tommy on the ground.

The rage which has gotten into her once she was you fucked up on the chair as you frantically mumbled something to Jesse hadn't left her for a single second. It was making her sick from her stomach, hopeless and... She felt hatred for everything around her. Once, someone had a dumb comment regarding her and Dina, and even though she didn't say a word to the person, she threw her plate on the ground, walking straight to them. Maria, thanks to God, has stopped Ellie in the last second, catching her and dragging her away.

Not even Joel wasn't able to make her talk, no matter how hard the man tried to get at least a word out of her. Sure, she was now spending time at his place a lot, because what happened was a family catastrophe and they both needed to carry the other one through what happened. But she never spoke to him.

Yet, there were moments when Ellie spoke to someone. The problem was that you couldn't answer her. She wasn't exactly speaking anyway. She brought her guitar with her, the one which was in Joel's bedroom, singing to you while they waited for you to wake up. Sometimes, she sang you Take On Me, and other times, she pulled out Johnny Cash, since Joel told her that these are your favorites. Sure, she was a was perfectly aware that singing won't help you recover sooner, but it was probable that it will make you at least feel better.

Her fingers were picking the strings lazily as she proceeded to play the slow melody which was reflecting everything going on inside of her at the moment. Ellie didn't know that Dina was standing behind the door the whole time, but it relieved her girlfriend when she heard Ellie singing. Yet no matter how relieved she felt, she didn't dare to interrupt the moment happening in the room. It took Ellie another twenty minutes to finish the small concert for one person before she put the guitar down, looking at you sleeping on the bed. At that, Dina finally entered the room to change the artificial nutrition hanging next to your bed, sending Ellie one shy smile.

"You've been listening behind the door, weren't you?" - The redhaired girl asked quietly, shifting her focus from you to Dina. Her girlfriend just smiled but didn't give a straightaway answer right away.

"You are a good a singer, what can I say, baby?" - Dina whispered, making sure that everything's in check. It was a week and a half and you were still sleeping. Sure, you'd most likely be awakened by that time, but Bobby decided to keep you under the medicaments for some time - at least before your hands get in check somehow and until you wouldn't tear your muscles of your knee when you'd stand up. There was a wheelchair prepared for you, but with the amount of pus leaving the wound every morning, Bobby didn't want to rush any of it. You've been through pain and a severe shock. You needed some rest.

Of course, the medics in Jackson knew that they can't let you sleep for too long but at that point, you were still fine. That was the last thing that made Ellie still standing and being contained because she knew you'd wish so. The girl almost freaked out when Dina put her elbows around her neck, kissing the small sweet spot below her ear as both the girls watched you.

"What is going on inside your head, baby?" - Dina whispered after a small while, as she sat on your bed. While Ellie's eyes were pinned on your face, she could at least tell it is you at that time, Dina was smoothing the small strands hair off Ellie's face.

"You know what's going on in there." - Ellie muttered out, quickly flashing her look at the black-haired woman. These two were very much in love and if the incident wouldn't happen, their relationship would be most likely blossoming at the moment. But there were different thoughts inside of Ellie's head. The hatred she felt was immersive - it was almost as painful as on the day she got to know Joel had kidnapped her from the hospital and killed Marlene to protect his baby girl.

How could the man be so calm about the whole situation? It seemed that having his brother almost paralyzed and his girlfriend almost dad didn't move a single thing inside of him. At least that was what Ellie thought. Of course, he was in deep grief and an immerse state of anger, but there was nothing to do at the moment. Who would he be hunting down? Who were they? Where did they come from? Will they come back? Joel knew better than letting the anger flash out just like that. And more importantly, he knew that if you wouldn't ish to speak of them or tell him specifically to hunt them down, he won't be going on a killing spree just like that. He had a family to protect now and a future to go towards...  Yet Ellie was just nineteen-year-old kiddo, in the end, she didn't know better.

"Ellie... I'm not sure I want you to fuck around with these people. You hear me?" - Dina asked quietly, catching Ellie's palm in her hand. At that, Ellie left out a small chuckle, shaking her head.

"This isn't a thing you're deciding about. This is my own decision to make." - Sadly, Ellie was right. And Dina knew that. Even Maria, Tommy, and Joel knew that - if Ellie had decided to avenge you, there was no way they could stop her in her quest. Only you had the power do put a stop on that, and even about that, Dina wasn't sure entirely. The only way to stop Ellie was to make sure you won't tell her about the people once you or Tommy wake up... But there was this high probability of Tommy starting a witch hunt by himself because he was a hell of a proud man.

"And is it yours to make? Ellie, what if she wakes up and tells you she doesn't want to go after the people? What if Tommy wakes up and tells you he doesn't want you to go?" - The black-haired girl scoffed ironically, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend's pride. - "You don't know the first shit about these people. What are you even planning on doing?" - Dina asked quietly. She was glad that she hears Ellie talking after those few weeks, but at the moment she wasn't so sure if it was making her feel good to hear Ellie talk about what she had inside. This behavior was selfish, hasty, and suicidal. The only thing Ellie was about to archive was getting herself killed... And Dina knew that. Ellie did too, somewhere deep inside. Yet her ego and pride when it came to these things was... Huge.

"I'm gonna find... And I'm gonna kill... Every last one of them." - Ellie whispered, her eyelid twitching with anger. Slowly, she breathed out, closing her eyes. Dina watched the girl slowly pumping her palm open and close tight for a moment before Ellie gathered enough calmness to speak. - "And you can't stop it, no matter how hard you'll try, Dina. Joel can't, Maria can't... No-one can't. I'm not gonna let these fuckers get away with this." - It hurt Dina more than just some slap, knowing Ellie is already sure that no matter what, she'll get the justice she desired for you. Dina just closed her eyes for a moment before getting up to walk around the room, catching some breath.

"If you're going, I'm going." - Dina demanded silently, covering a good portion of her lips with her palms. - "But promise me that wed go only if she wishes us to go. If she tells you to stay put, you will." - Dina begged silently, knowing Ellie will find them on her own if she'd have to. But the false promise Ellie made with a silent nod calmed Dina down. It was just for a moment, but it did help somehow.

[uber--duper]

A Spider’s Similarities

“Ignoring this… pointless avenue of discussion,” Tojo began, keeping her eyes locked onto the needle and thread as she began to work it through the fabric of her dress. “What was it, exactly, that you were attempting to tell me about Harukawa?”

“Oh, right!” Ouma grinned. “You and Harumaki match! I think it’s super duper cute, to be completely honest."

(Day 1: Photos/Scars)

AO3 Link for those who prefer that format!

this is for Kirumaki Week 2020 over at @kirumakiweek! i’ll do my best to keep up with this, but at least here’s something for day 1!

“Did you know that you two match?” Ouma told her one day.

“...what are you talking about?” Tojo asked, glancing up from her work. Today was supposed to be a personal day, a rare day where she could work on catching up on some personal maintenance. A bit of personal R&R, or as close to rest and relaxation as she could afford herself. So of course, Ouma had somehow found her.

“Well, I just thought it was really interesting that you and Harumaki match.” He repeated, kicking his feet.

The pair were in one of Hope’s Peak’s many specialized rooms, fit and tailored to any sort of talent or derivative of one, so that any student could find the time to ‘foster the intricacies’ of their skill. Specifically, Tojo had sought out a room to do some cloth working in, as some of her wardrobe needed a few patches, thanks to the rough and tumble nature of spending a day at Hope’s Peak.

And so she’d placed herself at a table, fit with a very fancy sewing machine, alongside other various pins, threads, needles, and patches for smaller, specialized fixes and details. And of course, Ouma had found her not long after, and had apparently decided that today was a good day to bother her with nothing. Surprisingly, there was worse company at this school… but there was also company that was far better.

“I am completely unaware of what you mean,” Tojo said. Her fingers fiddled and prodded at one of her dresses, seeking out a tear without assistance from her eyes. She instead looked for a suitable thread color, one that was the correct tone of black.

“Well… you like spiders, right?” Ouma asked, pulling himself out of his chair and up onto the table she was working on. Tojo glanced up at him with a half lidded stare. Her fingers skittered over the fabric, and Tojo offered herself a slight nod as they found the tear.

“What gives you that impression?” Tojo asked in response, tone flat. She pinched the tear between her index finger and thumb, finally reaching out with her other hand to grab a couple spools of thread, their shade lightly tinted with other colors.

“C’moooooon!” Ouma drawled, raising his hand and leaning back in a theatrical expression of fake annoyance. “It’s so obvious, right?” He stared at her with a smile, and she offered him the same blank stare. Ouma continued once he realized she wasn’t going to reply. “Well, I mean, you’re like, totally into dark colors. And they say that moms have eyes in the back of their head, so I assume you’ve got, like, six other ones sitting around somewhere, right?”

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Tojo said, her lips quirking down into a frown. “I’m not your mother.” She glanced down briefly, finally settling on one of the threads, and held out a needle. “And if you’re going to continue to annoy me, please make yourself useful and hold this.”

“Whaaaat? For real?” Ouma shot her an amused look, gingerly taking the needle despite his words. “Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to help everybody? Evil people like me don’t help others out, you know!”

“Usually, that is the case,” Tojo replied, tugging out a length of her selected thread. She began threading it through the eye of the needle and fastening it, while Ouma watched with some sort of interest. “However, since you are disturbing me on my ‘day off’, so to speak, you will have to assist me in this minor way. I’m sure it won’t kill you”

“Thbbbbt!” Ouma blew a raspberry. “That’s pretty lame! What kind of maid takes a day off?! I’ve never spend a moment relaxing! I’m always busy.”

“Was it not yesterday that you did nothing but slack off because the class project ‘didn’t interest you’?” Tojo asked, plucking the needle from Ouma’s grasp.

“Maybe I was lying?” Ouma asked, clasping his hands behind his head now that both were free. “Who’s to say, really?”

Tojo just sighed in response, pulling up the tear so that it was closer to her before beginning. Her eyes wandered over the immediate surface around the tear, and noted that it went through part of the pattern as well. She’d need white thread too. Unfortunate.

“Ignoring this… pointless avenue of discussion,” Tojo began, keeping her eyes locked onto the needle and thread as she began to work it through the fabric of her dress. “What was it, exactly, that you were attempting to tell me about Harukawa?”

“Oh, right!” Ouma grinned. “You and Harumaki match! I think it’s super duper cute, to be completely honest. And if you don’t know, then it’s just double awesome!”

“What does this have to do with your question about spiders?” Tojo asked in response. Her fingers set into a rhythm, flowing across the fabric like an arachnid with its web.

“Well, you like your patterns,” Ouma said, pointed at Tojo’s dress. Her eyes flicked towards the spiderweb pattern without thinking, and her fingers slowed their dance slightly. Ouma continued, “And Harumaki has the same kind of pattern built in!”

“...built in?” Tojo blinked in surprise, eyes lingering on the spiderweb pattern on her dress before they flicked up to look at Ouma. Her fingers halted their movements entirely. “What are you talking about?”

Ouma gasped in surprise, though Tojo was positive it was feigned. “You don’t know?!” He asked. “But you two are totally super close!”

“We…” Tojo began, feeling a tightening in her chest as she glanced away from Ouma. “Are not that close.” Her… relationship with Harukawa was… was complicated. It irritated her that Ouma was as privy to the state of things as he was. However, as irritating and prone to lies as he was, Ouma was far more observant than others liked to give him credit for.

“Oh, I see,” Ouma replied, a mischievous smile gracing his face. Tojo greatly disliked that smile. It meant he was up to something. He continued, shrugging his shoulders and snickering. “Well, I don’t think it’s really in my place to share.” Ouma’s grin returned, and he held his index finger up in front of his mouth, almost as though he were shushing her. “But… well, let’s just say that a little birdie told me that our poor Harumaki got hurt.”

“Hurt?” Tojo’s back stiffened, and her stare hardened even as amusement danced in Ouma’s eyes. “What do you mean she ‘got hurt’?”

“Like I said, it’s not my place to say.” Ouma shrugged. “Maybe you should ask her yourself?”

“…” Tojo was quiet, jaw clenched, before she forced herself to take a deep breath and stare at Ouma. “And how do I know this isn’t a distasteful lie? You are very prone to telling those.”

“Hmm…” Ouma tapped his chin, then hopped off of the table. He shrugged and laughed at her. “I guess you don’t!” Ouma smoothed out his pants, then grinned. “This is getting kind of boring though. Have fun with your dress!” And before Tojo could say anything to stop him, Ouma scampered off, nearly bowling over Shirogane as she opened the door.

Tojo let a frown crease her face, turning back to her dress and staring holes into it. She flatly returned Shirogane’s timid greeting, unable to get her mind off of Ouma’s words.

Tojo despised how he had figured out how to push her buttons like this. She spent a moment thinking before she sighed and stood up, snipping her thread loose and gathering up her half-patched dress.

%

Tojo found her in the school’s gymnasium.

Harukawa stood next to Momota and Chabashira, watching on with annoyance as the latter shouted at the former. Harukawa was decked out in workout gear; a gray, sweat stained t-shirt accompanied by knee length athletic shorts and simple tennis shoes. Momota and Chabashira were clad similarly, but Tojo’s gaze didn’t linger on them.

She drifted near the trio almost silently, the growing argument a great mask for her footsteps. Harukawa seemed to tune in to them anyways, as she always seemed able to do, and separated herself from the two to meet Tojo in the middle. With Momota and Chabashira distracting each other, it seemed that Tojo had a moment ‘alone’ with Harukawa.

“Hey,” Harukawa said.

“Hello,” Tojo replied.

They spent a moment just… staring at each other before Harukawa shot a glance over her shoulder at Momota, and then sighed.

“What do you want?” She asked, her tone not holding the sharpness that her words might have implied.

“I… wished to talk to you about… something personal,” Tojo admitted, balling up a fist and putting it in front of her mouth. “Admittedly, it is a bit of an uncertain worry, but… I still wished to clear something up. As well as share some information with you, to make sure you’re aware of it.”

“…” Harukawa’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What is this about?”

“I don’t wish to say in public,” Tojo said, finding herself unable to meet Harukawa’s eye. “I… was unaware of this before now, and am unsure if I want it aired out in the open. I understand, however, if you’re uncomfortable with such worries. I can drop it if you would like me to.”

“Hrmm…” Harukawa’s eyes narrowed in thought, not in suspicion but in confusion. “Fine. Meet me at my room in half an hour.”

“Ah, of course,” Tojo said, lowering her hand so that she could clasp it with her other and bow slightly. “Thank you for humoring me.”

“It’s fine,” Harukawa replied. She didn’t seem too keen on continuing the conversation, so Tojo took a small step back, breaking their joined personal space. Harukawa watched her for a moment, eyes sharp as a hawk’s, before she stepped back as well.

Then, Harukawa pivoted on her heel and marched up to Momota, clubbing him on the shoulder. He yelped in surprise, and Tojo watched in faint amusement for a moment as the two bickered. She lingered for a moment longer, catching Chabashira’s eye in the process. She waved, and Tojo waved back. Then, she too turned on her heel and made her way out of the gym, wondering just how she would explain herself.

%

Thirty minutes on the dot, and Tojo stood in front of Harukawa’s room in the dormitories. She took a moment to steel herself before raising a gloved hand and delivering three swift knocks to the wood. Tojo glanced to the side, ears picking up the shuffling in the room, and felt like her nerves were on edge for some reason. This was… just a personal health question. Nothing more. There was no reason to feel anxious.

A moment later and the door swung open. Harukawa stood there, clad now in her normal clothing, though Tojo could see a dampness to her hair and smell the faint scent of artificial lavender in her pulled up hair. The two shared a silent stare and an unspoken agreement, and Tojo stepped forward into Harukawa’s room, frayed static sparking across her nerves.

Harukawa closed the door behind her, then turned to stare at Tojo with a cold, analytical gaze. Tojo’s body held strong, keeping rigid and at the ready, though her will wavered under Harukawa’s heavy stare. Again, the two did nothing but stand there in silence.

And then Harukawa spoke up, and both girls seemed to instinctively relax.

“What are you worried about?” Harukawa asked, back slouching slightly. Her hands drifted upwards, gently gripping one of her huge ponytails. “It’s not like you to come up to me for something like this.” She paused for a moment, then cocked her brow at Tojo. “And isn’t today your day off?”

“It… is,” Tojo admitted, nodding limply. “However, I… well, as loathe as I am to admit this, I was speaking with Ouma, and his words brought some concerns to my attention.”

At the mere mention of his name, Harukawa’s face grew dark, her eyes clouding with stormy anger. The fingers tangled in her hair clenched, her skin pulling taut over her knuckles. Tojo could see the way her jaw clenched, and the tension that seemed to flood her body at his mention.

“What did he say about me?” Harukawa asked.

“He told me that…” Tojo trailed off for a moment, searching for the best way to phrase this, “He said that, and I suppose I shall simply quote him directly, you ‘got hurt’.” She sighed, shaking her head. Her hands clenched, bunching up the skirt of her dress.

“…huh?” Harukawa seemed to lose some of her steam, her body relaxing somewhat as confusion took over anger. “I… what?”

“I admittedly was not sure as to what he meant either,” Tojo said, her lips pressing into a line. “But… even though I knew he was prone to lies and that his views towards you are… nebulous at best, I could not help but worry for you.”

“For me?…” Harukawa echoed, and Tojo watched as a hand drifted over to her shoulder.

“Yes, I…” Tojo lost her words again, and needed a second to find them, “Even if his words were a lie, I still… wanted to make sure that you were not injured in any way. And if you are… I would implore you to let me assist you in some way. I am experienced in treating injuries, so if you were in pain of any sort, I would very easily be able to assist you.” Tojo found there was… a desperation seeping into her voice that she was unaware of until it was too present to ignore.

“…” Harukawa was silent, then her brow knitted together and her lips pulled into a scowl. “…how did he?…” She muttered to herself, and Tojo could not make out the rest.

“Harukawa–” Tojo began.

“I’m not in pain.” Harukawa began, seemingly picking her words carefully. “I have some… injuries from my time in the orphanage,” She stated simply, “It was just from me being a stupid kid. That’ s it.”

“I see,” Tojo said, nodding. And then, she opened her mouth to thank Maki, and her words came out before she could stop them, “May I see them?”

“…eh?” Harukawa’s eyes widened in surprise, and her fingers dug into her shoulder. A faint pink dusted her cheeks, and Tojo immediately felt a tension spring up in between them.

“M-My apologies,” Tojo was quick to backtrack, even literally by taking a step back, “That was far too forward of me. I just… I mean, I thought to look them over and… make sure that it had healed correctly. And,” Tojo found herself faltering, “And if you are bothered in any way by them, I could… assist you. With managing them.”

“I… see,” Harukawa said, turning away.

They shared a stiff moment of silence, and Tojo found that she couldn’t think of the reason behind why she said that. As she opened her mouth to retract her statement, however–

“If… you think it’s a good idea,” Harukawa said, the pink on her cheeks far more noticeable.

“I–” Tojo began, caught off guard by Harukawa’s agreement. “I… yes,” She said simply, unsure of how else to continue.

“…give me a second,” Harukawa replied, turning away.

Tojo watched as Harukawa turned her back to her, eyes locked onto her back. And her own eyes widened as Harukawa reached down, fingers hooking under the hem of her shirt. She then began pulling it up, and Tojo was treated to…

A web of scars.

They criss-crossed over Harukawa’s back, both darker red and lighter yellow side by side against the pale canvas of Harukawa’s skin. They formed uneven patterns as they climbed up her back, across her sides, and over her shoulders. Tojo could tell that these were made over the span of years, with some looking more healed over than others. They were thin and thick, long and short, a variety of shapes and sizes that made it impossible to place how each one could have been made. Concerningly, there were even a few that seemed… rounder than the others.

Harukawa turned around, and Tojo found that the scars continued onto her front as well, a similar latticework that coiled around her body. Tojo had known that Harukawa had a few scars on her limbs, as hiding them didn’t seem to be a possibility, but… to think that it continued to this extent…

She was somewhat ashamed to admit that Ouma’s words made a modicum of sense to her. She wouldn’t say that they matched, per se, but…

Tojo’s thoughts were cut off by Harukawa yanking her shirt back down. She had her cheeks puffed out slightly, a pout painting her face. Tojo blinked a couple of times, wanting to reach out but unable to lift her arms. A tension of a different sort grew between them, which Harukawa broke by clearing her throat.

“There,” She said, “See? It’s… I’m not ‘hurt’. It’s just… a lot of old injuries. They don’t… they don’t hurt, they just… are in the way sometimes. But it’s nothing I can’t get past.”

“I… yes, I suppose that you’re right,” Tojo said, finding articulation… momentarily difficult. “However, I… I would still like to extend my offering to you.” Tojo found herself offering Harukawa a smile. “If you ever need help… you are always free to request my help. I would not hesitate to assist you in any way.”

“Um.” Harukawa stared for a moment, then huffed and looked away again. “Thanks. I guess.” She paused, staring down at the floor, before something crossed her face again, and her pout dropped into an irritated scowl.

“Is something wrong?” Tojo asked.

“…yes,” Harukawa said, looking up at Tojo. “Did Ouma tell you how he knew about this?”

“Ah,” Tojo frowned. “No, now that you mention it.”

“Then I have something to take care of,” Harukawa said.

Tojo watched as Harukawa stomped out of her own room, presumably to find Ouma. After a moment, Tojo sighed and followed after, shutting the door behind her. As irritating as Ouma was, she supposed it wouldn’t do to have him get hurt or anything.

[artificialqueens]

Stitch Us Back Together (Kamasia) - Crazy4Kameron

A/N:This fic has truly been a labour of love. I’m so happy to finally be able to release the first part, even though this thing was meant to be a short little one shot. It managed to grow and somehow get away from me and now here we are. I really hope that you all love this story as much as I do. Please leave a kudo or a message and let me know what you think. I really do love to know if I need to improve on anything and what is working! xoxoxo A huge thank you to @mistressaq and @opalescent-cheetah for beta-ing and brainstorming with me, and always being my cheerleaders.

summary:Kameron would do anything to make Asia happy, and that includes going to a sewing class that is being taught by one of her idols. But when she finds out that Asia’s design school is holding a contest that allows the winner to have their designs showcased by Asia’s idol she will do whatever it takes to get her to enter. Even if it means going behind Asia’s back and praying that their relationship can handle it.

It was like any other day for Asia, sitting behind the reception desk at the St.Charles Complex. She was flipping through the pages of the catalogue of upcoming classes when she noticed it. She couldn’t believe her eyes at first, but knew that if this was true that she had to tell Kameron. Immediately. Asia knew she wasn’t supposed to leave the desk unattended but it had been dead almost all day and this was an emergency - at least in her mind it was. Asia put up a small Sorry be back shortly sign and took off running towards the gym. She knew at this time of day Kameron would be in the middle of a training session, but she needed her, she was freaking out and there was no one else she wanted to tell more than her girlfriend.

Asia whipped open the door to the gym and saw Kameron thankfully standing near the front desk chatting with a few of her colleagues.

“Kameron. Bianca. Sewing. Here.” Was all Asia could manage while trying to catch her breath. Kameron and everyone else just stared at her with a mixture of confusion and concern. Kameron’s face was dripping in terror that something terrible had happened.

Kameron’s mind reeled. Oh my god! Something must be seriously wrong for Asia to leave the desk, she never leaves the desk. What if something happened to one of her little sisters? Or maybe something happened to Blair? Oh GOD I really hope Blair is okay. Please let Blair be okay. Wait did she just say Bianca? WHO IS BIANCA? She doesn’t know anyone named Bianca that I know of.  

“Bitch, did you just run here?” Vanjie asked.

“I didn’t even know she knew how to run.” Scarlet chimed in.

Kameron whipped her head around to give them a pointed look. Scarlet raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Oh my god babe, what’s wrong?” Kameron put her hand on Asia’s back, trying to calm not only Asia but herself. “Just breathe baby.” Kameron gently rubbed her hand in circles on Asia’s back the same way Asia had done for her so many times before. This was mostly to calm herself and help her from letting her thoughts carry her away on a terrible spiral. Kameron reached over the desk and grabbed her water bottle, offering it to Asia, who waved her hand to say no thanks.  

Asia took a few deep breaths then excitedly started waving around the catalogue in her hand.

“Bianca Del Rio is going to be teaching a sewing class HERE!!” she screeched out the last syllable, unable to hold back her excitement anymore.

Kameron had to take a step back as Asia began to bounce excitedly on the spot. “You’re telling me you ran all the way here, just to tell me that?” There was a distinctly unimpressed look on Kameron’s face. “I thought there was an actual emergency Asia! You scared the shit out of me running in here like that.”

Asia’s excitement quickly died when she saw how upset her girlfriend was, and she realized that Kameron’s anxiety must be going through the roof right now. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Asia reached up to push a piece of hair behind Kameron’s ear, running her thumb along Kam’s jaw. This always seemed to instantly calm Kam down and earn Asia a few points back after saying or doing the wrong thing. Asia knew it had worked when Kameron’s eyes shut and she instinctively melted into her touch.    

“Gross, get a room you two. No one wants to see your lovey-dovey honeymoon phase.” Plastique gagged, pretending to throw up.

“You just pressed cause no one wants you,“ Vanjie pointed out.

“And you only find it cute cause you’re lucky enough to have Brooke,” Plastique quipped.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think I’m good enough for Brooke? Vanjie’s tone had begun to rise. Her infamously short fuse had been lit and it was only a matter of time before she went off.

“I don’t think anyone is trying to say that you’re not good enough for me, babe.” Brooke tried to discreetly hold Vanjie back.

“NO, she better apologize now!!” Vanjie’s voice grew more high pitched by the second.

Plastique, not about to be wrongly accused of something, fired back, “For what?! I literally didn’t even say anything mean or rude about you or your girlfriend!”

“Why can’t we all just bottle our feelings like normal people?” Brooke pleaded, trying to bring the argument to an end.

Asia gave Kameron a look of are you going to stop this?, shifting her eyes between Kameron and the fight that was about to break out. Kameron knew that she needed to put an end to this before it got out of hand, she just needed to find the confidence to do it.

“Hey, guys.” Kameron tried, but she was barely heard over all the yelling.

“Hey, guys.” She tried again this time a little louder but to no avail. So she took a deep breath to center herself and gave it everything that she had. “WOULD YOU TWO IDIOTS SHUT UP!!!”

Everyone fell silent and just stared at Kameron, surprised that she had been the one to yell.

“Thank you. Now that I have your attention, can you all please take your little argument out of the gym, so I can talk to my girlfriend before she gets fired for abandoning the reception desk. And so our clients don’t think that a bunch of children work here.” Kameron put her hands on her hips to show that she wasn’t playing around. The girls, knowing not to get on Kameron’s bad side, cleared out of the gym or else went about work they were supposed to have been doing anyway.

“Wow, that was seriously impressive and kinda hot, I’m not gonna lie.” Asia gave Kameron a sly smile and a wink that turned Kameron three shades of pink, before wrapping her arms around Kameron’s waist.  

She play-smacked Asia’s arm. “Would you be serious please, and tell me what got you so excited you had to run here in the middle of your shift?”

“Oh, I almost forgot! I was flipping through next month’s catalogue and The Bianca Del Rio is teaching a sewing class here!” Asia squealed with excitement, picking up the aforementioned catalogue from the desk. She held it out in both hands towards Kameron, with the biggest smile on her face.

Kameron took the book and quickly flipped through to see when this class was, "Okay, I don’t know who that is, but clearly you are very excited about it.” Kameron looked at the date the class was scheduled and did a quick mental check of her and Asia’s schedule to see if they were available.

“I’m pretty sure that we’re both free on this day. Do you want to go to the class?” Kameron asked, already knowing the answer.

“Are you serious? Of course I want to go!!” Asia was elated. Kameron had never seen Asia so happy before. She knew that she made Asia happy, but not like this. She had never seen Asia glow with such pure joy and excitement before, and it was at that moment, Kameron knew that she would do anything to make Asia that happy.

“Okay well you should really get back to desk babe, before there is a real emergency and you get fired.” Kameron leaned over to give Asia a kiss, which she quickly followed with a second.

“I’ll see you tonight then?” Asia asked heading towards the door.

“Of course, I’ll be counting the minutes.” Kameron winked, making Asia blush.

                                                    ——————————

As the day grew nearer, Asia’s excitement seemed to be dying down. Over the past week or so, whenever Kameron would mention the class, Asia would smile and say she was excited, but her eyes didn’t shine quite as bright and she always seemed to try and change the topic. She seemed to be in her head a lot more, and it appeared like there was always something that she wanted to tell Kameron, but never did.

They were out for lunch on their shared day off, at a local pizza place when Kameron finally brought it up.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you something lately, just never got the chance.” Kameron tried to sound casual, but she was scared shitless on the inside.

“What’s that babe?” Asia asked over a bite of her pizza.

“Is everything alright? You just seem a little out of it and distant lately, and it’s starting to scare me a little. I’m starting to think that maybe I did something or said something to upset you.” Kameron couldn’t hide her nerves any longer and began to bite her lip and stare down at the table.

Asia’s heart almost broke. She knew that she had been a little more in her head and stressed about things lately, but she never realized that Kameron would have thought that it was her fault. Asia did her best to hide all of her stress and self-doubt from Kameron. “Oh no baby, it has nothing to do with you.” Asia reached across the table to take Kameron’s hand. ”I promise you I’m just stressed about school and midterms is all, there’s nothing to worry about.” Asia smiled at the beautiful woman across from her. “You know I have that design project due next week.”

“Are you sure?” Kameron asked, wiping at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her free hand.

“Of course babe, I promise that you haven’t done anything to upset me.” Still smiling at her girlfriend, Asia gently put her hand under Kameorn’s chin so she could look her in the eye. “Whatever is going on with me has nothing to do with you. Understand?”

Kameron only nodded and gave a gentle smile.

                                                           —————–

Kameron felt a little better after the talk she had had with Asia, but something was still bugging her about the situation. So on her break a few days later, she decided to talk to someone who knew Asia even better than she did.

Kameron was apprehensive at first, but still she knocked on the doorframe. “Hey Monét, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah sure girl, what’s up?” Monét had just finished her rounds and was now sitting behind her desk watching the security cameras.

“Well, it’s just that, lately, I don’t know, Asia’s been acting kinda weird and like I’m  not entirely sure why. I asked her about it the other night and she said it was cause of school stuff stressing her out, but it just seems like there is something else going on and I thought you might know.” Kameron managed to get the words out, with some difficulty, eyes shifting and heart pounding so loud she was sure that Monét could hear it from where she was sitting.

“First of all, you need to calm down baby, everything will be alright. You’re not the only one that’s noticed. And I can’t believe that she told you it was just school stuff,” Monét said in disbelief, she was stunned that Asia would lie to Kameron like that.

“Wait, so it isn’t midterms stressing her out? Asia lied to me?” Kameron couldn’t believe her ears. She could actually feel her heart breaking. The burning tears started to prickle at the corners of her eyes, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Why would she lie to me? I thought she trusted me?”

Monét could see the panic that suddenly washed over Kameron’s face and knew she needed to right the situation quickly. “Kam baby, Asia really cares about you, and I’m sure she just didn’t want you to freak out and worry about all her personal stuff. That’s all.” She also knew that Kameron deserved to know the truth. “Look, if you really want to know what’s going on with Asia, I’ll tell you.”

Kameron figured the answer was already written on her face, barely able to hold the tears back. “Yes please.”

“One of Asia’s classmates gave her a flyer about a competition that they think she should enter. Something about the winner having their design used by Bianca in her next show. I guess they’ve been hounding her about it for a while now, and Asia is just really on the fence about the whole thing.” Monét finished waving her hands about.

“Well I mean that totally makes sense now, why she’s been so stressed, but I still don’t understand why she never told me about this.”

Monét held out her palms in a shrug. “That’s something you’d have to ask her, baby girl.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Kameron’s hands were curling into fists. She wanted answers.

“The only reason I found out is that I saw her going through some of her design sketches and muttering about how none of them are good enough,” Monét remarked. “Like seriously, all of her designs are amazing and everyone can see that but her.”

Kameron took a steady breath in. “Well my break is just about over, but thanks for telling me all that. I have a lot to think about now, before I talk to Asia later.”

“Good luck girl” Monét yelled as Kameron waved goodbye and went back to the gym. It was a slow day which would have normally bothered her, but today it gave her the time she needed to figure out what she was going to say to Asia.

 ————–

At the end of the work day, Kameron was finally on her way to talk to Asia about the information she had found out earlier.

"Hey babe! Did you have a good day?” Asia couldn’t help but beam as she saw Kameron. As Kameron got closer though, Asia could see that she wasn’t smiling. She was biting her lip, and appeared to be in deep thought about something, which fired off a spark of worry in Asia.

“Hey,” was all Kameron could muster as she approached the desk, putting her bag on the counter.

Asia couldn’t hide the concern in her voice. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”

“You could say that.” Kameron tried to hold back her anger. “I went to talk to Monét today on my break.” Kameron watched confusion cross Asia’s face. She continued, ”I was curious to see if ‘school stuff’ was really the only thing bothering you lately— not that I don’t trust you,” Kameron almost sneered. “But it turns out that I do have a reason not to trust you. I found out that you lied to me!” By this point Kameron couldn’t hold back the anger and betrayal that she felt. “You lied to me Asia! WHY!?” Kameron knew that she already had tears spilling from her eyes and could see the mixture of hurt and anger that was plastered all over Asia’s face.

“Okay hold on a minute. If you thought that I was still hiding something, then why didn’t you just come to me?” Not that it isn’t obvious why she hadn’t come to me. Why did I ever think that I could hide this from her?

“Because I knew that you wouldn’t tell me the truth even if I asked you about it. And I had to be sure, so I went to Monét, I figured if anyone would know it would be her.” Kameron let out a frustrated sigh. “I was worried about you, Asia. I can’t believe you’d lie to me over something so stupid. Why didn’t you just tell me about the competition?” Kameron’s shoulders shook as tears continued to stream down her cheeks, her whole body stiff with tension.

Asia looked down at the desk, guilt washing over her. “I’m sorry,” she could only whisper. “It was stupid of me but.. .it felt so trivial. I didn’t want you worrying about my personal shit.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Asia! I’m here to worry about your personal shit. I know your life isn’t rainbows and unicorns all the fucking time, life gets messy, but I want to help you with stuff. Even if it’s just something as small as a design competition. I want to be there for you.” Kameron reached over to grab Asia’s hands and squeeze them tight. “So please… don’t push me away like that again.”

Asia had also started to cry, but didn’t know when. ”Okay, I promise I won’t push you away anymore.” She was so touched by how much Kameron cared about her, and had also thought that she just needed to be there to protect her from the world. In the process, she’d forgotten that sometimes it’s okay to lean on someone else.

Kam reached up to wipe away the tears falling down Asia’s soft cheeks. “You’re always there for me whenever I’m having a bad day and have always been so good about accommodating my anxiety. Sometimes I just feel so useless, you don’t always have to be the one helping me. I want to be able to help you, too. I’m not some fragile little girl that’s going to break if you need to vent to me about things.”

“I know you’re not fragile and that I can talk to you, I just worry about your anxiety and overwhelming you. But I promise that I will start telling you about things that are weighing on my mind more often.” Asia leaned over the desk to give Kameron a quick kiss, before promising her that she would try harder to open up. She had to stop thinking that she needed to take on the world alone.

“Now can I see some of those sketches you’re so worried about?” Kameron suggested. “I’m sure that one of them is more than good enough to enter.”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean I guess you can look through my sketchbook, but it’s back at my place.” Asia was always unsure about letting people see her work, but she did just promise to let Kameron in more.

“So am I driving or are you? You know I could always stay the night… if you want.” Kameron gave Asia a wink, wiggling her eyebrows.

Asia came around the desk and wrapped Kameron in a tight hug. When they pulled away Asia kept her hand on the redhead’s waist, pulling her close. “You know that sounds good right about now. And maybe I can show you how sorry I am for keeping this from you.” To accentuate her meaning Asia slowly slid her hands down Kameron’s toned ass and gave a quick squeeze. Kam’s eyes went wide as she sucked in a sudden shocked breath, a playful smile forming on her full lips.

“Well I was really hurt when I found out you lied to me, so you might need to work really hard to make it up to me.” Kameron gently breathed out, before kissing Asia’s pouty lips.

“Well let’s get out of here then. It sounds like this is going to take a while."

                                                       ————–

That night they were curled up in Asia’s bed, Kameron tucked up under Asia’s arm, looking at the designs that Asia had considered entering into the competition. Asia just wasn’t happy with anything that she had drawn and in her mind nothing she did would ever stand up to Bianca’s quality of work. Kameron knew that this was wrong and that anyone of those designs would win the competition for sure. Knew that all of Asia’s perfectionist and professional ways, made all of her designs beyond magnificent, and that no matter what Asia said she needed to enter that competition. Kam had a plan and she hoped that Asia would forgive her for it, in the end.

     ——————–

Kameron suspected that Asia wouldn’t be in any condition to drive that night, she had been sending her nervous texts all day, and was afraid that if Asia drove she might chicken out at the last minute. So Kameron told her that she would drive. Kameron picked her up at around 5 pm and spent most of the car ride listening to Asia’s excited chatter. Asia had no idea her sketches were in Kameron’s bag, neatly tucked away in a plastic folder (she seriously needed to thank Monét for that one).

When they finally got to the class, Kameron’s nerves were only eased by the pure excitement Asia had as she gushed over the sewing machines and picking the perfect table. Now, all Kameron had to do was find a moment alone with Bianca. When Bianca finally appeared Kameron thought that Asia was going to have a stroke. Just breathe baby, everything’s going to be alright. Bianca will love you and you are going to do amazing in this class, Kameron whispered into Asia’s ear, squeezing her hand tight. She could feel her skin prickling with nerves and anticipation; would Asia be mad? Or would she be grateful? What would Bianca think? Kameron had already anxiously run through all the ways this could possibly go wrong in her head, but despite all that, she still had chosen to go through with it.

They were about half way through the class when Kameron saw her perfect opportunity. Knowing she may not get another chance, after making sure Asia was fully immersed in her project, Kameron walked to the front where Bianca was sitting at a table, watching everyone work.

“Uuummm, excuse me?” Kameron was so nervous she could barely get out more than a whisper.

“Did you just say something?” Bianca looked up at her, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

Kameron cleared her throat and took a deep breath before trying again. “Ah, yeah sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, but my girlfriend is a huge fan of yours, and I was wondering if you could look at some of her designs. One of her classmates told her that she should enter the contest you’re holding, but she doesn’t think any of her designs are good enough, so I was hoping that maybe if you look at them and see how good they are you could tell her yourself. I know that would mean so much to her.”

“Okay first take a breath before you pass out on me, because I really don’t feel like having to explain why a fully muscled and tattooed lesbian, was taking my sewing class instead of building a shed."  

Kam did take a breath, not quite knowing if she should be offended.

"Second, does your girlfriend know that you have these sketches of hers? Because you know I don’t mind looking at them but I really don’t feel like getting in the middle of a lovers quarrel.”

“Uumm, well no she doesn’t exactly know that I took them, but like I said before–"

"Look, you seem like a nice girl and you clearly have good intentions, so why don’t we go tell your girlfriend about your little plan, and then I’ll look at those sketches.” Bianca made a gesture, like she was waiting for Kameron to walk back to her table.

Kameron had planned for this, had done her best to mentally prepare for this moment. Either Asia was going to be super pissed and pull her out into the hallway to scream at her, or she was just going to kill her and leave her for dead on the side of the road.

Asia was still completely immersed in her project when Kameron sat back down next to her, Bianca following close behind.

“Hey babe, that looks so amazing,” Kameron stammered. Asia still didn’t stop what she was doing, or look up. Kameron’s palms were sweating, and her breathing was beginning to get faster. She was really praying that this didn’t completely blow up in her face. ”So I have a surprise for you.”

Stopping what she was doing to finally look, Asia realized that Bianca was standing only a few steps behind Kameron’s chair. A surprised look crossed Asia’s face, before she realized that Kameron looked like she was about to pass out.

“OH MY GOD BABE!! Are you okay? Do you feel sick? Is your anxiety getting to you? Oh shit and here I am so caught up in my work that I didn’t even notice.”

Before Kameron could answer, the woman who had been patiently waiting behind her spoke up. “I do believe your girlfriend is just shitting her pants, because she came up with, in my personal opinion, a horrible plan to try and convince you to enter my contest.”

“What is she talking about Kameron?” Asia was now looking confusedly between her girlfriend and her idol.

“Well, you know how much I care about you, and that I would do anything to see you happy. And I just really wanted to do something that would show you how much I care. So I may have convinced Monét to steal some of your sketches, so I could give them to Bianca in person and have her tell you herself how amazing your work is.”

Asia’s eyebrows shot up and Kameron’s heart thudded faster. Oh no. Oh no she’s pissed, I need to explain myself more. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK! But people are starting to stare. God why do people have to stare?

“Because it really is amazing and you always seem to think that it’s not, and I just really wanted you to have as much confidence in yourself as I have in you. Kinda like the way that you’re always pushing me to have confidence in myself.”  

Tears were streaming down Kameron’s cheeks at this point, she didn’t know when they had started, only that she wanted to crawl under the table and die. She couldn’t stand the way that Asia was looking at her and she thought that maybe if she kept trying to explain herself that eventually Asia would understand. Before Kameron could open her mouth to continue though, she felt a hand come from behind her to grab her shoulder, and watched as Asia got up from the table and stormed out the door, most of the class trying not to look up from their projects.

“Okay sweetheart, remember what I already told you about breathing. Just keep breathing. She needs a few minutes to process what you just told her. The rest of you please just go back to your own work. The poor girl doesn’t need your snoopy asses watching her.” Bianca’s voice cut through the clouds of Kameron’s anxiety, but still sounded like it was far away.

       ——————–

Asia was fuming, she didn’t know what to think. She was both hurt and touched at the same time by Kameron’s actions. She felt like she was being ripped apart inside.

How dare Kameron do something like this behind my back! What did she think she was playing at? I told her numerous times that I didn’t want to enter that contest, and she got my roommate involved? When would Monét have even given Kameron the sketches? But then again she put so much thought into trying to make me happy. And it took a lot of nerve to do what she did, and God I love that girl. Asia leaned against the wall and slowly slid down as the anger that she was feeling started to dissipate. Remembering the look in Kameron’s eyes as she tried to explain everything, the way she could see her anxiety taking over. Part of her wanted to run back in there and wrap her arms around Kameron, tell her that it was okay and that she didn’t need to worry. Another part of her knew that she needed to put herself first sometimes, and that she had a right to be angry with Kameron right now. She had violated her trust and gone behind her back.

Asia didn’t know how long she had been sitting on the floor in the hallway, but suddenly there was the shadow of someone standing over her. As she looked up, she quickly realized that Kameron was standing there silently wiping tears from her eyes. Asia said nothing, unsure if she was ready to talk to Kameron yet.

“I–I’m sorry.” Kameron’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Kameron took a deep breath, like the ones Blair had taught her to take. Kameron’s anxiety must have been high, but she clearly needed to speak her feelings, so Asia silently patted the floor next to her. As Kameron sat down Asia reached out to grab her hand, hoping this would help ease some of the anxiety the other girl felt.  

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, almost waiting to see who would speak first. Kameron decided that she should seize the chance to say something. “I know that you’re mad at me, and I can understand why. I just thought that no matter how much I begged you and told you how good your work was, you’d still never enter that contest.”  

“You’re damn right I’m mad at you! I told you that I didn’t want to enter that contest!” Asia snapped. “But you went behind my back and did it anyway.”

“I know.” Kameron turned to face Asia. ”And I should have just listened to you. I wish I would have listened to you. I–I just thought–that maybe you didn’t want to enter—because you didn’t have enough confidence in your work.”

“Whether I had confidence in my work or not isn’t the point right now Kameron. You betrayed my trust– you AND Monét. You dragged my roommate into this, when you both knew my wishes and still you went against me. I thought of all people, I could trust you, but I guess I was wrong.” The fire in Asia was going out, now she only felt disappointed and heartbroken.

“You can trust me! I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything like this again, I’ll never go against your wishes.” The desperation in her voice was so thick, she could feel it in her tears as they rolled down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to hear it right now Kam. I’m calling a Lyft and going home.”  Asia got up off the cold hard floor.

“No– you paid for your seat in that class, at least stay to the end. You were so excited, remember? I’ll leave and call you a ride for when the class gets out.” Kameron gave a sad smile, getting up from her place on the floor. “The Asia I know is no quitter.” Kameron said over her shoulder, walking back towards the classroom to gather her things, leaving Asia to cry alone on the floor.

As Kameron walked back into the classroom, Bianca looked up from where she was helping someone out, to see Kameron grabbing her things, a defeated expression painted on her face. She excused herself, so that she could have a word with the girl, before she left.

“I know I said that I don’t want to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel, but if those sketches meant enough to you to completely ruin your relationship, they must be good. Mind if I see them?”

Kameron nodded and pulled the folder from her bag, handing it to Bianca with a sad attempt at a smile. It took Bianca less than a minute to realize the sketches were amazing, and thought that if Asia would have entered them, they would have been a shoe-in to place high, possibly even to win.

Not wanting to give Kameron any false hopes, she only nodded and asked if she could borrow them, saying that she would give them back to their rightful owner, when she returned to class. Kameron agreed and left, looking broken-hearted.

———-

Asia had made sure that Kameron was gone before returning to class and sitting down in front of her almost finished project. Still overwhelmed by all that had just happened, all she could do was sit there staring at the machine, almost like she couldn’t remember how it worked.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat, next to her work station.

“I know that it’s none of my business, but why exactly did you decide not to enter the competition?” Bianca asked.

Asia realized she was holding the folder with her sketches. The sight of it made her grit her teeth.

”Because I have to tell you,” Bianca continued. “That these are really very good. And before you say anything, I asked your girlfriend for them before she left. I was curious to see if your talents were really as good as she seemed to think.” The woman eyed her up very seriously. “I don’t compliment people often. So you know that I’m not bullshitting you.”

Asia relaxed a little, knowing all too well that getting a compliment from The Bianca del Rio was something to celebrate. “Thank you.” Asia blushed, and filed this moment away in her memory to tell Kameron, once things were hopefully resolved. ”The reason I didn’t want to enter the contest is because, well, because the first time that people see my work…” Asia looked down at the sewing project she had been working on, and unconsciously began playing with the edges. ”I want it to be in my own show.”

Bianca nodded. “I can understand that. I was the same way when I was young, but everyone has to start somewhere. Not even I, the great Bianca del Rio, saw my own clothing in a showcase all my own right out of the gate.” This made Asia giggle a little and a small smile spread across her lips. “I know that it might be hard to believe, but I was an apprentice at one point in my career and my mentor is the one who finally gave me my big break. So just work hard and before you know it, you’ll be showing off your very own clothing line soon enough.” Bianca playfully bumped Asia’s shoulder. “Also, this may just be my unasked for opinion, but you should forgive your girlfriend.” Bianca placed the folder on the table next to Asia. “I put my card in there, you know just in case you change your mind about entering the contest. Or if you ever need anything.”

“Thank you so much!“ Asia perked up, eyes lighting up with admiration for the woman standing in front of her. She knew that she had a lot to think about tonight.

With that, Asia placed the folder with Bianca’s card in her bag and went outside to call a Lyft. True to her word, Kameron had already called her one and it was waiting for her when she got out of class. Sitting in the back of her Lyft, phone still in her hand, she looked back at their most recent text conversation. Just a few hours ago, everything had been normal. Kameron was asking if Asia wanted her to pick up fries on her way over. Asia took a deep breath and closed out of their chat. She knew that she wanted to talk things out with Kameron, but she knew it would be best if she waited until the morning.