#same thing w blaze [the cat]

[malikselfindulgence]

Andif i wanted to go by Scourge . What then

[sugarplumkneecaps]

Sips of Solace & Soft Spines

Shadow & Sonic Slow Burn

C/W: none

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (HERE) | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Read up to date chapters on AO3

Chapter 2: Karaoke & Cappuccinos

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☆。。☆。✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Shadow stared at Amy’s front door for what felt like an eternity before Rouge joined him on the stoop.

“Are you going to knock or just stare at it?” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder.

He couldn’t quite tell if it was the prospect of spending more time with Sonic and them that had him calculating how quickly he could run a lap around the planet to avoid stepping inside, or if it was the culminating events of the day. Sure, he was thankful that his two biggest issues were solved in a singular day in part (entirely) thanks to Rouge. But there was so much that had happened not only today but within the past week that had thrown him off his edge. Plus, Shadow wasn’t really the social type as it was. Admittedly, his social battery was in a critical state, threatening to go into the red if he didn’t get time to recuperate.

Just as he was finishing up the final details for the route of his solo race around the world, Tails opened the door. “Oh! Hey Rouge. Uh, Shadow. Come on in! Amy mentioned she got a text saying you guys were around the corner. I was about to go out to look for you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you,” Rouge gushed, pulling the fox into a tight embrace. “Where are the others?”

Tails freed himself, ruffling his fur as he choked on his words, “they’re in the entertainment room! And here,” he held out a couple of ear plugs wrapped in crinkled plastic, “you’ll thank me later.”

The two followed Tails inside toward the aforementioned room, the sounds of what could only be described as a suffocating cat getting louder as they approached. Rouge and Shadow simultaneously pried open the little packaging and shoved the ear plugs in place. Thank you, Tails.

As they turned the corner into the room, the scene unfolding before their eyes was enough to even sneak a low chuckle out of Shadow. Knuckles had one foot atop the coffee table, microphone in hand as he sang passionately along to the words that appeared on screen. Amy had shoved herself into the corner of the couch directly behind him, fending off the sounds of him screeching with her hands over her ears, wincing as he attempted each high note. It was futile. Silver and Blaze were also there, sitting together on the same couch as Amy seemingly enjoying the events of Knuckles’ performance unfold. In between whispering things to one another, they laughed hard as they turned their attention back to the echidna. Shadow scanned the room, noticing that a certain blue hedgehog was nowhere to be seen.

The crescendo of Knuckles’ scream-singing prompted another wince from Amy, she turned herself toward the doorway where she found Shadow and Rouge, Tails already having moved back into the room. Taking this opportunity to escape, she nearly bounded over the couch to greet the two, “I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Amy shouted to them, ears still covered by her gloved hands. “Are you guys hungry?”

Shadow glance at his companion, who smiled and nodded, grabbing his arm and pulling him along as they followed the pink hedgehog into the kitchen. “I’m sorry it isn’t anything fancy. I wasn’t sure what everyone was going to want so I just got some of the staples.” She motioned toward the multiple pizza boxes that lined the counter. “Drinks are in the cooler outside. Help yourselves!”

Rouge thanked her, reassuring their host that she did not need to linger if she wanted to join the others once more. Amy showed a great deal of reluctance to return, only changing her stance to rejoin the others when she overheard a panicked Tails advising Knuckles, “I don’t think Amy wants us to touch that-“

They both moved over to the counter and inspected the contents of the boxes before the bat grabbed a slice, jabbing at Shadow’s side with her elbow, “I have to see what Knuckles got into this time,” she giggled. “Make sure you eat and put yourself in timeout if need be.” With a wink and small twirl to head down the hall, Shadow was alone in the quiet kitchen.

After plucking the ear plugs from his ears, he took a moment for himself as he spaced out on the same boxes Rouge had rummaged through. Food was the last thing on his mind, and with his eating schedule being so out of whack due to this transition in his life, he couldn’t force himself to eat. Instead, he resolved to make his way to the backdoor that Amy made mention of and let himself outside.

The night air brushed against his fur as he closed the door behind him. Something Shadow appreciated about Green Hills was the lack of light pollution, making the stars easy to look at if the weather was clear. The lights spanned across the sky, twinkling against their dark backdrop. Crickets chirped in the distance, joining the symphony of croaking frogs, and rustling trees. Shadow had not quite experienced anything like this before; he closed his eyes, adding his own steady breathing to the orchestra.

“Shadow?”

Sonic’s voice was akin to a record scratch against the sounds of night, startling Shadow. He grabbed at his chest in an effort to keep his racing heart in place as he turned to where the voice originated. The blue form made its way into the light where Shadow stood, frozen.

Of course it would be him.

“What do you want, Sonic?” he said in a flat tone.

The blue hedgehog’s movements were slow and deliberate as he approached. Shadow watched as Sonic’s full figure materialized out of the dark, readying himself for any kind of conflict his rival might throw his way.

To his surprise, Sonic seemed a bit deflated compared to his usual, spunky self. “I was looking for an escape from karaoke,” Sonic laughed awkwardly. He cleared his throat and nodded in Shadow’s direction, “And you?”

Shadow glared at him, curling his fingers into a tight fist. “None of your business,” he growled, returning his gaze back up at the sky. The view from Earth dwarfed the celestial wonder that was the stars. He could only pick out one or two constellations as the sky wrapped around the horizon; there were no such obstacles when he was with Maria. A familiar aching sensation overtook his heart, leaving his chest feeling heavy with each breath.

Remembering after a brief moment where he was and who he was with, he shook his head as if the act would rid himself of the feeling. It did not. “I was just heading inside, actually.” Shadow turned his back to Sonic as he reached for the door.

“Hey Shadow?”

The dark hedgehog paused, his hand hovering over the door knob.

“It’s nice getting to hang out with you more.”

The ache in Shadow’s chest was replaced with a rush of butterflies, getting his insides in whirl as his heart worked to shoo them off with its rapid thumping. He scoffed as he turned the door knob and let himself back in the house, his breath catching in his throat when his eyes met Silver’s.

“Oh! Hey Shadow! Long time no see. I hear you’re settling down here in Green Hills?”

Shadow swallowed in an attempt to wet his mouth again to speak but to no avail. Instead, he settled on a short “humph” and moved to the sink in the kitchen. “Talkative as ever, I see,” Silver mumbled under his breath. Shadow ignored him as he turned the sink on, bowing his head into the basin and splashing his face with water.

The back door’s handle jiggled a bit as Sonic emerged from outside, “Shadow? You okay-?” His words cut off by the sight of the familiar gray hedgehog. He greeted him with an outstretched hand, “Aye! Silver! How’s it going buddy?!”

Taking solace in the immediate distraction away from himself, Shadow worked the moisture into his quills in an attempt to soothe himself. Sonic and Silver laughed together as they made their way back into the room, their exchange indiscernible to Shadow. Rouge passed them, greeting each with a smile and wave before finding Shadow in front of the sink.

“Feeling alright there, hot stuff?” genuine concern seeped into each word as she placed a gentle hand on his back.

Avoiding her gaze, he nodded before wiping more of the water from his cheeks. “How much longer are you going to subject me to this outing?” He desperately needed to be alone, as alone as he could be right now. If that meant balling up on Rouge’s couch and listening to the clock tick away until sleep came for him, so be it. But it was overdue.

Obvious disappointment overtook the bat’s expression as she searched Shadow’s face. “I guess it has been a rather eventful day for you,” she relented, placing either hand on her hips. “Fine, we can head out. But next time, we aren’t leaving until I’m ready.” The dark hedgehog grumbled an agreement before rubbing his sleeve over his forehead. Rouge popped in to say a quick goodbye to everyone as they made their way to the door, imploring Amy to prepare herself for the following day. Inside the room, Shadow couldn’t help but exchange glances with Sonic. If he hadn’t known any better, he could have sworn Sonic looked concerned for him. He broke their eye contact quickly, furrowing his brows as waited for Rouge to finish up her farewells.

“You’re going to see most of them tomorrow,” he muttered, failing to hide his annoyance at their delayed departure.

To his surprise, Rouge said nothing in return. She only smiled softly at him and wished him a goodnight once they had returned to her place before disappearing into her room for the night. Guilt shot through him. She was doing everything in her power to help him; letting him stay here, getting him an apartment, getting him a job. All he had to do was accompany her to socialize, which was also in the effort to help him adjust.

He pulled his shoes and jacket off, letting them fall together in a haphazard pile by the front door. Looking at his reflection in the entryway mirror, he moved close to examine himself. His crimson eyes tired as they looked back at him, he uttered, “I... am an asshole.”

Shadow flopped onto her couch once more, the deafening sound of the clock’s ticking much less comforting than he wished for. He pondered on how he could make it up to his friend, sleep pulling his eyes closed as he came up with an idea.

Dishes clattering and a string of hushed curses echoed through Rouge’s quiet house the next morning. The sun was barely peeking its head up over the horizon, flooding the kitchen in warm hues. Shadow had gotten up early in an effort to make Rouge an “apology breakfast” for his behavior the night before. Her pantry was full, but he hardly recognized anything within. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time searching through its contents for powdered eggs, which was a staple breakfast item on the ARK, only to find a carton in the fridge labeled “organic eggs”. Although he was normally quite confident in his ability to whip up a meal that he at least enjoyed, it is important to note that the only ingredients he chose to have at his disposal were from the military. Which for him was just fine, but when faced with the task to use what Rouge had in her pantry, it humbled the dark hedgehog almost immediately. Determined to follow through, he gathered everything he was at least somewhat familiar with and went to work.

The orange rays stretching across the room shifted to those of a lighter shade as the sunrise crept higher. Rouge shuffled into the kitchen, wiping the sleep away from her eyes as the coffee pot hissed its final note.

A yawn escaped her, “Shadow? What are you doing?”

He turned around with a sheepish look, plate in hand. What Shadow had hoped would be his famous loaded omelet resembled yellow slop peppered with finely chopped green and red bits. Rouge’s eyes widened as she puzzled over the edibility of the soupy dish before covering her mouth to hide a widening grin. Shadow’s face burned red as he placed the dish on the table and turned to the cabinet to retrieve a couple of mugs (and hide his face).

“What on earth is this?” Rogue chortled.

Shadow’s ear twitched as his jaw clenched. “An apology,” he stated coldly, continuing his task of pouring his coffee.

Rouge picked up the cooking attempt, its secretions threatening to drip onto the tile as it shook from the mere act of being lifted. “I’ve never seen such a questionable apology.” She squeezed past Shadow to the sink with a great deal of caution. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I tend to like my eggs a bit less,” she motioned to the plate, searching for the right descriptor, “liquid.”

“I’m used to the eggs being less liquid to begin with,” Shadow argued in defense.

The omelet made contact with the garbage disposal opening with a solid THUNK as Rouge processed his response, “You’re used to... What kind of eggs have you been using Shadow?”

His face burned hotter.

“Don’t tell me you’ve only been eating the ones from GUN-“

“They’re efficient and keep well!” Shadow snapped.

Rouge placed a hand gingerly on her friend’s shoulder. “Oh honey. That... explains a lot.” They both looked toward the sink, the eggs’ final resting place. “Come on. We’ll eat at work.”

With a look of defeat, Shadow nodded. “Rouge. I am... sorry.”

“I know. But we don’t have time for any more awkward sentiments. We have a big day ahead of us and not a second to lose!”

Entering the empty cafe behind Rouge, Shadow couldn’t help but feel anxious. His fiasco in the kitchen earlier made him acutely aware of his cooking ability with anything not provided to him by GUN. He was sure that the contents of the food served here were neither vacuum sealed nor dehydrated. The menu above the counter loomed over him, making him feel rather small as he read off the multitude of items.

“Don’t worry about the food too much,” Rouge teased. “All of it is premade. We just have to heat it up.”

Shadow let out a sigh of relief.

“But... you are going to have to learn how to make something other than black coffee.”

It made sense; this was a cafe and all. But the notion of it still made Shadow’s expression crinkle into one of light disgust. “I know how to make your coffee...”

“Shadow. It’s black coffee. With sugar and cream. This is wildly different.”

She held out an apron and they got to work.

Much to Shadow’s surprise, learning how to make the various coffees the cafe served was less complicated than he originally feared it would be. Amy and Rouge were both incredibly patient, giving him much more grace than he felt he deserved. The girls spoke to each customer to let them know he was training and each of them were also horribly kind and tolerant as they waited for their orders.

“Be thankful this is a small town. People here tend to be way more understanding.”

Amy nodded her head in enthusiastic agreement, “oh Chaos, yeah! I’ve heard so many horror stories about working at larger restaurant chains. It sounds like an absolute nightmare.”

He moved the cleaning rag over the steam wand of the espresso machine, giving silent thanks to closing time. The work would only get easier with time as he got into a rhythm. With the cafe empty once again, the three hurriedly staged everything for the evening in order to take their leave.

“I know it’s really soon, but would you both like to come over again tonight?” Amy smiled warmly at Rouge and Shadow. “No karaoke this time. We just planned on watching some movies and eating some junk food.”

Rouge turned to Shadow, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting him a sly smile. “Oh, I wish we could Amy. But Shadow has a bedtime.”

The dark hedgehog opened his mouth to retort, anger and confusion mixing together as his words were lost on him.

Amy tilted her head to the side as she looked over Shadow, “Oh- really? That’s a shame.”

“But!” Rouge offered, her tone light and playful, “How about we plan a girl’s night soon? Rid ourselves of these stinky boys for an evening.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Amy giggled. “We could even plan the house warming party a bit!”

Shadow tuned the rest of their gleeful exchange out, pulling the apron over his head and hanging it up behind the counter. He had a rising suspicion that Rouge was scheming once more, especially after he had agreed to her conditions to make amends earlier that day. Nevertheless, he chose to shrug off the feeling as he sauntered outside into the cool air.

Sunset was just over the horizon, painting the sky a gradient of purple, pink, and orange. Clouds drifted overhead as a light wind rustled through the trees. The town was still active, with cars driving by and pedestrians wandering the streets. He watched as a small group chatted amongst themselves, laughing every once in awhile at something Shadow couldn’t quite make out. His eyes followed them until he spotted a familiar item in one of the window displays they walked past. A record player. The sight of it nearly took the wind out of him as his heart skipped violently. The shop had many different models displayed alongside an amount of vinyl Shadow had never seen before in one place.

Maria had a small collection of vinyl in her room on the ARK ship that the two would listen to religiously. Before the fateful day of her passing she would implore Shadow to dance with her, he would oblige not having the heart nor any real desire to deny her. They would hold each other’s hands and dance around her room, if one could call energetic hopping and aimless spinning “dancing.”

The memory drew Shadow to the window. Pressing his hand against the glass, he scanned the inside of the store with more intent. Many of the vinyl were unrecognizable to him until the “retro” section caught his attention. It was a subtle reminder of how long ago his time with Maria was, but enough of a painful one to tug at his heart.

“Shadow?”

He turned around to find Rouge approaching him, worry clinging to her voice. Taking his hand off the glass, he turned away from the store. “Better hurry back so I don’t miss my bedtime.”

Rouge’s look of concern evaporated as she chuckled, “Whatever you say, handsome.”

[all-together-now]

FOF!Trip curiously appears through another Tumblr wormhole. She looks around, and realizes she’s at Amy’s front porch.

Then she saw Amy cuddling in a hammock with Blaze.

…and Surge.

…and some yellow cat.

…and herself.

Seems that this Amy was in a… what was it? A polycule? Yeah, a polycule.

…WAIT, HERSELF?!

Trip dashed to the hammock and caught everyone’s attention.

“T-teach me your ways,” she begged her counterpart.

ATN!Trip screamed, and fell out of the hammock. The other four girls stared at the copy of the sungazer in shock as Trip got back to her feet.

"Wh...how...but I thought..." ATN!Trip muttered.

"Aw, sweet! We got a Spikes 2 over here!" Surge cheered.

"Wwwwwwhat is happening?" Honey asked, completely lost, "Why is there a...'Spikes 2' as Surge put it?"

"Eh, it's some wormhole bullshit," Surge waved, "We met another version of me before we roped you into our group...She was an asshole."

"Sounds like you, then," Honey laughed.

Surge just rolled her eyes. ATN!Trip seemed to sigh with relief.

"Oh...ha...it's just another me...not..."

FoF!Trip grew a frown.

"Did I in-in-interrupt someth-thing?" she asked, "I-I-I'm s-sorry, I j-just g-got excited a-and-!"

"No, no, it's fine," Amy soothed, "I think you just caught us all by surprise."

ATN!Trip stared into the other Trip's eyes for a while...longingly.

"U-Um...c-can I t-t-talk to you...me?" FoF!Trip asked.

ATN!Trip blinked and quickly shook off whatever she was thinking about.

"Uh...y-yeah...I guess," she shrugged, "What did you want to talk about?"

FoF!Trip glanced nervously at the other girls watching them and motioned for the other Trip to follow her. ATN!Trip looked over to her girlfriends, who nodded reassuringly. So, the sungazer followed herself off the patio and a little ways away from the house.

"Okay...so...y'all still didn't give me an explanation for this...wormhole..." Honey said.

"To be frank, we don't fully understand it either, my dear," Blaze admitted.

"Just give it a few minutes," Surge said, relaxing back into her lovers embraces, "She'll go away back to her own place soon."

Out on Amy's front lawn, the two lizards walked side by side, not making eye contact. FoF!Trip eventually looked down at the hoodie the other Trip was wearing.

"That's a-a nice sw-sweater," she complimented, "L-Looks like that c-clunky old armor I u-u-used to w-wear."

"Heh...I never really took mine off much," ATN!Trip chuckled, "Even when I outgrew my old ones, I made them bigger. Never really wore the robe like you do."

FoF!Trip chuckled and looked down at her dress. Both sungazers soon returned to awkward silence, and it stayed that way for a moment.

"So..." ATN!Trip began, "You...wanted to talk?"

"Y...Y-Yeah..." FoF!Trip muttered, "It's just..."

She looked over at the four girls that had just been cuddling with her counterpart. Even without her by their side, they all looked so happy together.

"How...d-did you m-manage to g-get together with all th-those girls?!"

ATN!Trip blinked in surprise.

"Um...why do you ask?"

FoF!Trip sighed and flopped her hands down to her side.

"I...I-I'm interested in t-two g-girls I know...b-but I have n-no id-dea how I g-get together with e-either of them! So...I just...n-need to know how you managed t-t-to do it with f-four girls!"

There was a brief silence.

"Well..." ATN!Trip began, rubbing her head, "I just kinda...hit it off well with them."

FoF!Trip gave a slightly questioning look.

"They just...liked me and I liked them back," ATN!Trip shrugged, "I mean...to be honest, I didn't even know what love felt like until I met Blaze or Surge. I liked them both a lot more than I thought I did...same with Amy. And when I realized that...I just...met up with Blaze and Surge and we talked about all becoming a thing together."

"But...s-starting that convers-sation must ha-ha-have been scary, right?"

"Yeah...but it did help that Blaze and Surge did most of the talking," ATN!Trip chuckled, "Do you think one of the girls you like could do the talking for you?"

FoF!Trip thought about that crazy ass badger she had somehow fallen for.

"Y-Yeah...unfortunately."

ATN!Trip smiled, but FoF!Trip sighed.

"But...h-how do I get them to like each other? I want to b-b-be with both of them, b-but w-what if they don't feel the s-s-same way?!"

"Then...maybe you can still talk to them about it," ATN!Trip shrugged, "Amy's taught me a lot about relationships since I've gotten with her, and she really emphasizes that communication is key. Plus, polycules don't have to be restricted to some rigid rules if you don't want them to be. Maybe, in the worst case scenario, both of your girls like you back, but just have to trade you back and forth between them!"

Both sungazers laughed as ATN!Trip lightly punched the other Trip's shoulder. She sighed, and looked back over at her other universe's girlfriends.

"Th-Thank you...th-that really h-helped..."

"Of course," Trip smiled, "And...good luck with your girls. Heh, trust me...if mine are any indication, they won't be able to stop smothering you in affection."

FoF!Trip chuckled, "D-Does that e-ever get t-t-tiring?"

"Not in the slightest. It's the best feeling in the world. And I hope you get to feel it soon too."

"Thank you...I'll c-c-certainly t-try..."

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: mention of alcohol and being inebriated, Miguel in normal clothes (yes this is a warning), friends vs. lovers type beat

a/n: this one might be a little frustrating fyi. also it might be a while for the next part to come out bc i'm having trouble figure out where i want this story to go.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.4k

part 1 part 2 part 4

masterlist

----

The villain's life isn’t too bad. Especially when you have friends. Well, a friend.

Really, it’s just like being unemployed, but you’re not living off of your life savings, you’re living off of someone else’s.

Maybe someone else’s else’s savings.

Ok fine, you’ll admit it. You haven’t actually done much crime at all. You’ve just been mooching off of Felicia like a girl with a sugar mama.

So what? It’s not your fault she’s the most generous criminal you’ve ever met. And technically, the money comes directly from other people’s accounts, so you are still acting as an accessory to a crime and that’s good enough for you.

So far, you’ve been treating these past few weeks like an extended vacation. 

You’re still not used to your powers. It���s not as easy as thinking about something and it happens. It’s more like a feeling, something you have to pull from within. After the first few times of accidentally exploding someone’s Kia Soul and a breakfast sandwich that cost $12 (which is a crime in itself), you’ve been a little apprehensive about using your powers unless you really need them.  

Thankfully, you have Felicia to teach you a few non-power-related moves just in case. You actually thought you’d never see her again after she left you on that roof. Even though she did say, “I’ll see you later,” you thought she was just being polite. But then you got a text for brunch a few days later.

Feli is not a villain, but she’s certainly not a hero either. She kinda just does what she wants when she feels like it. It’s inspiring, really. 

You never told her about what happened that other night, not wanting to mention how Spider-Man mistook you for her. Or the fact that your shared a heated kiss with the hero. You’re supposed to be a bad-ass criminal, not some girl who fraternizes with superheroes like some sort of groupie. You do, however, tell her about how full-black suits aren’t your style and that you’re thinking about finally embracing your fiery locks.

She agrees adding, “We can’t show up in the same fit every time we’re committing a crime. We need to keep it fresh, give ‘em something to talk about.” 

You were ready to go down to a fabric shop and stitch something quick together, but Feli adamantly convinced you that she would take care of it. Feli has this awesome AI assistant named Zee that does everything from ordering groceries to building her a new ultra-sleek motorcycle. You were told to tell Zee what you were looking for in your new suit since she’s also conveniently connected to an advanced fabricator. 

“Hello, Ms. Hardy and Ms. Blaze.” You grumble at the AI’s use of your long-hated nickname, “How can I be of service?”

“Make her a new suit,” Feli commanded, “and make it quick, we have things to do today.” She sits at a desk, clicking idly through her large desktop. You peek over her shoulder, curious about what she’s working on. It’s a Pinterest board full of outfits and modern interior design ideas. 

“Certainly. What are you looking for?” A holographic menu streams from the fabricating machine, showing you options for the size, fit, and design of the suit. 

“Orange, maybe? And make it a little more breathable, I was sweating bullets in that other one.” 

The menu scrolls around as you speak, showing you favorable color combinations and breathable fabrics and designs. 

You tap on a fiery orange and black palette. It’s simple and makes sense. A few designs with your chosen colors pop up and you see the perfect one. It’s asymmetrical, leaving enough skin uncovered to ensure there’s a fair amount of ventilation for your extra-warm radioactive body heat. You click the ‘process’ button, and the machine starts right away. Estimated Time: 14 hrs and 27 minutes.

Feli stands up when she hears the rev of the machine working its magic. “Alright, darling, let’s get you up to my closet. We’re going to the club.” 

—

Apparently, one of Feli’s associates owns the club we’re going to. 

“He’s been asking about you, hearing about the power plant and all.” The limo he sent to her house is exquisite, offering expensive champagne and snacks. The windows are super tinted for privacy and the partition has been rolled up since you got in, so you can’t really tell where you’re headed. “I told him I’d bring you around the club sometime. That is if he lets us have some fun afterward.” 

The club itself is quite packed. The building throbs with the heavy bass of electronic music that you can hear even through the heavy metal doors. There’s already a line that wraps around the block and it’s only 8 pm. 

You carefully step out of the limo after Feli, trying not to trip in your borrowed heels. The bouncer instantly recognizes her and lets you pass, velvet rope pulled aside. 

The sea of dancing bodies moves like a stop-motion film under the strobing lights as you walk right past the general area. You pass through a curtained entrance, walk up some stairs, and stop in front of the balcony area that overlooks the dance floor. VIP only, it says. 

In the middle of the sitting area is a large bald man dressed in a proper suit, making him look like a frightening businessman. A large smile appears on his pale face when he spots your friend and he stands up to greet the two of you.

You can barely hear his voice over the loud music. “Felicia Hardy, wonderful to see you.” She offers her hand which he politely pecks. 

She merely acknowledges him, “Fisk.”

He turns to you. “And you must be the famous, Blaze.” You don’t offer a hand and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Please, call me Wilson.”

You don’t spend too much time with him, both because he seemed pretty busy and Feli wanted to go downstairs as soon as possible. He asks you normal things like where you’re from and how you met Feli, but he was mostly curious about your powers and how you got them. 

“A vat, hm? I’ve heard that one before.” It’s true. Vats of shit almost ensure the creation of new villains. “S’a miracle you didn’t die from that.” 

—

Feli is a lot more talkative once you leave Fisk. Despite working for him, she doesn’t seem all that fond of him. “He’ll probably call you up if he ever needs your skillset. I’d recommend taking whatever job he offers, he usually compensates generously.”

“But how? I didn’t give him my number.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’ll be in touch.” 

She tells you to find a table while she gets some drinks. Apparently, the bar is open for her, another perk of working with Fisk. You feel like a wallflower as you wait for her, watching as people come and go to the dancefloor or bar. You sit at the high-top table, legs swinging idly to the beat of the music.

You’re almost shoved off your seat when someone bumps into you and you have to hold onto the table to keep your balance. “Oh, sorry,” You hear a familiar voice say over the pounding music.

“It’s ok.”

 “Lava Girl,” You look over at the man, head having to tilt up to see his face. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” You barely recognize him as you’ve never seen him out of the suit before. He’s wearing a tight black short-sleeve that stretches nicely over his broad chest and dark wash jeans. Looking like any other civilian. 

“Miguel!” His eyes wander over the short black dress you were borrowing from Felicia, briefly stopping over the length of your bare legs that are visible through the glass table.

“Always seem to be wearing something new when I see you.”

“Well, my friend has expensive taste.”

His brows furrow, “Friend? You’re here with someone?” 

“Mhm.” Your eye catches on a head of silver hair, wandering through the crowds of loud and rowdy people. “Oh, just a sec. There she is.” You stand up to catch her attention and miraculously she spots you, flashing a smile as you wave your arms around like a lunatic. 

Then she sees him and her soft smile stops. One of her perfectly tailored eyebrows raises as she joins the two of you, drinks in hand. “You.” 

He seems surprised to see her. “Fel…” There’s a long bout of silence between the three of you. Whatever light energy was there quickly grows tense and you start to feel uncomfortable. 

What’s with these two?

You try to salvage whatever you can from this weird conversation. “So, how do you guys know each other?” Felicia’s gaze releases its hold on Miguel and they both look at you, almost like forgot you were even there. 

Miguel starts. “Uh, we’re old friends.” She gives him a look that you can’t decipher. “Older enemies.”

Then she writes it out, “Ex’s.” 

You can tell he’s trying to hide a wince, but he’s not very good at it. So he was looking for her that night. Does that mean he would’ve kissed her instead of you then? Wait, that also means you kissed your best friend's ex! Shit.

“Oh.” You pick up a coaster just to have something to do with your hands. “Well, that’s cool– I mean it’s not cool, but– like, oh, so that’s how you know each other. Wow, what a small–”

“Why are you here Mig?” Suspicion drips off each word as she steps forward, almost like she’s trying to protect you. 

“You’re asking why I’m at a club owned by one of the notorious crime lords in Nueva York?” 

And all of a sudden you’re not there again. It’s just them. 

“No, I’m asking why you’re here. With her.” 

“Can’t a guy just say hi to a friend?”

It dawns on her. “She knows?” She says through gritted teeth. 

He run a hand through his dark brown waves, “Look, it just happened.”

“Miguel, leave her alone, she hasn’t done anything.” You feel like you’re a kid watching her parents bicker about things unknown to you. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your skirt.

“She’s a good girl.”

“It’s not like that, Fel.” She rolls her emerald green eyes.

“Sure, it isn’t. I know you, Miguel.” 

He scoffs, “Yeah, whatever.” He brushes her off, clearly done with the conversation. “Ok, well, I’d love to stay longer, but I did actually come here for a reason.” He pulls away from the table, “It was nice seeing you, Blaze.” You could tell that he means it just by the way he looks at you. 

You nod at him, not really up to say much of anything after tonight. You can tell you’re dismissive send-off stings, but you don’t really care. 

“Hardy.” She doesn’t even look at him and he walks away without another word.

“Ugh, that guy.” Feli takes a deep sip of her vodka cran and you watch as a napkin sticks to the sweating glass as she tilts it back. She pushes yours closer to you, letting the perspiration drag against the glass table.

At this point, you’re not really feeling the whole club scene anymore.

“Promise you’ll stay away from him.” Your eyes lift from your untouched glass to meet her stare. “I know he’s Nueva York’s sweetheart Spider-Man or whatever, but he’s bad news, trust me.” 

“Ok.” 

“You really don’t wanna get caught up in the superhero drama. I’m just, trying to look out for you, Blaze.” 

You nod, forcing yourself to smile. “I know.”

And you do. She probably has a good reason for it, but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

All the events of the evening sit in the air for a second. Felicia, Fisk, and Miguel. Your brain is having a hard time organizing everything and the noises around you aren’t helping.

You decidedly pick up your glass without thinking and quickly drain it, barely even tasting it before feeling its cool contents bloom throughout your body. You set it down a bit harsher than you intended, but the coaster does a good job of absorbing the sound. 

You hop off your seat. “Let’s dance.”

Feli is surprised by your sudden changed mood, “Oh, right now?” You need to let loose. You can’t let some stupid kiss ruin your new life. You can’t let anything distract you. You can’t let him distract you. As of now, you’re a new woman and you’re ready to embrace exactly who everyone thinks you are. 

You offer your hand, “Right now.” She takes it, letting you lead her straight to the middle of the dancefloor. 

—

This time you run before you even see him. Well ‘run’ may be an exaggeration. You were too drunk to even walk in a straight line so let’s just say you ‘left.’

So the night went off the rails a little bit. One fruity mixed drink turned into a few rounds of shots, which turned into a very ambitious plan to revisit that bank that shut down on you a few weeks ago. Since it hasn’t been hit since that night, you assumed everything would’ve simmered down around it. Less security, less fuss, and less Spider-Man. And you were right. 

You were also careless. 

Drunk girls and endless power create an interesting scene for the police to discover. First, you skipped the doors altogether. Why use the front entrance, when you can walk straight into the vault? By the time the cops would get there, they’d be greeted by a huge hole that rips through several layers of (theoretically) indestructible materials.

Then there are the two blood-red lipstick kisses right next to it. That was Feli’s idea.

“Oh my god, you know what would be so cute? If we signed off on this with little kisses!”

“Why would we do that?” Your words slur slightly as you step into the vault. It’s stacked high with bills placed in perfectly rectangular towers. A soft breeze could easily ruin the whole room. 

“A girl’s gotta leave her mark.”

“Mm…ok, why not.”

You stuff your small handbags to the brim, not worried when a few bills fall out. This job isn’t really about the money, it’s about sending a message. 

You both casually stagger away from the crime scene, catch a cab (paying with handfuls of cash because you can’t be bothered to count it out), and get back to her place. 

“You staying over?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, darling.”

[besideprimroseshade]

ᴳᵒᵈ ⁱˢʰ ᵀʷˢᵗ ˣ ⁱᵐᵐᵒʳᵗᵃˡ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ CH: 2

CH: 1

"I'm getting excited on the contrary"

TW: Suggestive comments

    Y/N's current alias:

    Ell Clocke

    Alias No. 161

    Date: 1300

    "Why would you pick that book out of all?  I mean, it's nothing more than some fanatic's fantasy.  Nothing worth contemplating about".  He sighs and you shoot back Will you shut up for a few minutes?  I'm trying to read, you know, do something actually productive.  Instead of listening to whatever crap that comes outta your mouth.  Idle chatter should I say?"  He huffs "Ugh!  This is why you dropped out of school, my professors would be sorely disappointed in such a lackluster person like yourself".  You remember what page you're on and set your book to the side "Good thing I don't suck up to professors then, unlike someone here.  People actually enjoy my presence, dunno if you've noticed, but everyone here would kill you if it were legal".  He blanches and mutters something "Y-you're wrong, such a notion is inconceivable.  The people adore me, a brain such as mine surely deserves respect!" you shrug "Tell that to the townspeople, everyone here fucking hates you, and the fact that you with your great brain can't see that your holier-than-thou attitude is the reason why you don't have anyone who would actually care if you died is something..."

    "Wait... are you revealing to me that you wouldn't care if I died?" he freezes, a sort of realization washing over him.

    "Wow, the great mind finally realized.  What did you expect?  Me to cry when you die?  The guy who said that I'll be nothing 'cause I got B's and not A+'s?  The guy who every day told me that my dreams weren't anything, that mom and dad just had me to compare my dullness to your brightness?  You should've been a comedian instead of a scholar, 'cause that's too fucking funny".  Your words cut like the sharpest of ice, frigid and unforgiving.  

    "I... I was joking!  Of course you couldn't take a joke, you're too sensitive..." comes the attempt to shake away the guilt.

  "At least I can feel things…” you quip back.     He takes a furious sip of his tea and coughs it out “W-what curious concoction is this?  This is surely not my tea!”.  Your eyes move to the snow white Persian cat in the corner of the parlor, lazing on her pillow.  Cotton, your mother’s most prized pet, a spoiled cat given as a gift from your father.  “Oh, Cotton peed in the cup, it must’ve slipped my mind to inform you…”

    The memory fades as you fade back to your tea, the faces swirling like the milk in the tea.  “That damned dipshit” you utter before grabbing a broom and flinging open your front door.  Your porch was decently decorated, with starch white paint on the walls and the beams supporting up the thing.  Thankfully the paint did not contain lead, or maybe it did, that might’ve explained why the townspeople avoided you like you were crazy.  A few plants in pots stood in neat rows by the front window, delicate little flowers grown from a variety of seeds.  But now was not the time to admire your handiwork.  Angrily sweeping your front porch and ignoring the clouds of dust that plague your vision.  Your brother never did get his dream…     You learned that for all of his labor, he was only remembered as a pretentious wannabe who tried so hard to make it big in the world of knowledge that he ended up only becoming famous for his attempts.  A local legend of your town.  After centuries of him being dead, you were still petty.       Continuing your furious sweep you barely notice the child staring at you from behind one of the poles.  Only stopping your sweep to take a few breaths, “What do you want kid?” You turn to meet their gaze.  A tiny lanky thing, who probably didn’t even reach your hip, with striking eyes the same shade as the blazing garnet ring your least favorite aunt always showed off.  Thick dark hair that reminded you of ink, silky and black, cut short above their shoulders.  Their outfit prim, with a neat white shirt dark brown pants.  Their ears confirmed that they were a fairy, small and pointed.       “You appear to be angered with something” they observe with a voice so quiet it seemed hardly a whisper.  They stand there, hiding, unsure of whether to approach the curiously angry stranger, or run off back into the forest.  “Just blowing off some steam” you reassure them before leaning your broom against the wall.  “I’m not gonna hurt you, ‘sides, you’d probably be more of a threat to me than vice versa” you admit, watching as their grip on the pole lightens, a few creaks from the wood reverberating off the porch’s roof.  “So uh… what brings you to my place?  Pure curiosity?  Or did I anger a fae?”  You continue, waiting for any sort of reaction.         “I hast stumbled upon your abode by chance, tis an interesting place.  Any sane human would place their home as far as possible from a fairy.  But your abode is right in the middle of our territory.  I can feel the magic everywhere” they respond at last.     

    “I’m not like most humans…” you say, half joking half seriously.  “I can feel that, there is something heavy around you.  Many feelings are wound up inside you, like a boiling pot of stew, ready to bubble over and burn at any second” comes their swift response.  “Thanks for the reading… but I don’t have anything to give ya’ unless you’re hungry for some leftover bread and cheese from this mornings meal” you admit.  They shake their head, “No thank you, my lady said to never trust strangers.  There is no shortage of people willing to take advantage of you”.  You nod slowly “Your lady is right, tis better to be safe then found dead in a ditch I suppose”.       “Shall I call you something?”     “Fae never give out their names”     “That’s right, you’ve got good instincts too”     “Are you going to give me your name?”     “Nah”

    That was the beginning of your encounters with that little faerie.  He never did give you his name, but simply told you that it was similar to a flower.  You ended up telling him your name though, so that he would stop calling you the ‘abnormal human’.  He wasn’t wrong though, normal humans weren’t immortal.  Normal humans didn’t challenge gods in hopes of death.  Normal humans didn’t use their fathers invitation to a school and assumed his identity.  You learned more about your little visitor.  He was a servant of nocturnal fae’s princess.  A little bat fae at the very bottom of the fae hierarchy, raised in luxury.  Trained to serve his lady’s every whim.  What a dreary existence… you thought. 

    In exchange for tidbits about his life you gave him some from yours.  How you challenged a god and got immortality in return.  “You are an idiot” he thought aloud as he took a spoon from one of your cabinets and grabbed a dish labeled for him.  “What is this?” He inquired suspiciously “A treat, leftovers from a friend’s party” you reply.  The little fae sniffed it curiously before digging in.  “Pear…” he said at last before finishing the dessert in a few seconds.       “Someone’s hungry” you grab a few cherries from a basket full of farmer’s market goods.  "That is none of your concern" he comments.  "Damn, you're quick to anger" you slightly tease.

    That was the last time you saw him that small, he never did grow much taller.  But there was something different about him, not just that he was visibly different.  But he seemed different, bore a different air about him, something sickening, but you could never put a finger on it.  It was unsettling, the curious gleam in his scarlet eyes faded away in favor of a hateful sheen.  His slit pupils constantly in a state of fury.  How he shook off your concern with a glare, was this how your parents felt with you?  His hair was now welcome to dyed streaks of red, a unique choice for sure. 

    You dabbed one of his more severe wounds with a cotton ball.  "Humans can never keep their hands to themselves" you mutter as you rub a salve on his injured arm.  Tone akin to a chiding parent's as you clean and bandage his arm.  "Tut tut, I told you not to play with those mean boys and their toys", the boys in question being men and the toys being weapons.  "You're not my parent dumbass" to which you shake your head teasingly "I know, but seeing you grow up to be such a strong fighter has certainly had some sort of parental affect on me".  He side-eyes you "That's so fucking sweet it's annoying...".  Playfully wacking the top of his head you smile "Language little one..."

"Fuck you" he mutters irritated.

"No one will sadly..." you respond with a sigh.

"I hate you"

"Such is the fate of every parent, I suppose.  Whatever happened to that sweet little faerie I encountered?  Now there's just this crass thing in his place"

   •✧• Centuries later •✧•

    Current Alias

    Hanakoto Y/N

    Orientation went smoothly, you personally didn't care which dorm you were placed in, so long as you'd be left alone for the most part.  You rolled your shoulders back as you stepped up to meet the gaze of the Dark Mirror.  For some reason the Ceremonial Robes felt heavier upon your arms.  As if they were weighing you down... pulling you away from your fate.  Feeling the hundreds of eyes staring at you with a variety of emotions.  The weight of their gaze not helping. 

    You stared at the Mirror as it boomed the familiar words to you that it had to many students before you.

   "The shape of thy soul is..."

   "Tenacious... therefore you are fit for Pomefiore"

    As you walk down the steps to the crowd of Pomefiore students, you hear a scoff.  Turning to face the student you're face to face with some pretty blonde student with tacky violet ends and amethysts for eyes.  "Is there a problem?" you scoff back.  He glares at you before turning back to see what new students would be joining him.  Grumbling about "potatoes".  You take an empty spot between a couple of fellow first years.  "The fuck is his problem?" you mutter glaring daggers at the back of his head. 

    Vil Schoenheit could feel holes being bored into the back of his head, probably from that insolent potato that he just bothered to stare at.  What was their problem?

   The dinner at your new dorm was luxurious, it felt like the dinners that fae had described to you, while the Queen of Briarland was entertaining nobles. There were plates piled high with delicacies, food that you had only read about, it was absolutely delicious, but that damned student from earlier kept shooting you glares.  As if everything you did earned his ire.  Like he was personally offended by your existence...  You were from a family of farmers but damn, his attitude towards you was worse than those falsely compassionately officals that pretended to take pity on the plight of farmers.  The same people that made it possible for them to stuff their faces with rich sauces and soups, those addicting desserts and prized drinks. 

    Not to mention that blonde with the bob who sat next to him kept smiling and complimenting him, lathering on the praise for him until it creeped you out.  You could've mistaken him for your brother, always showering famous scholars that he encountered with so much praise you thought that he was in love with them.  Those crusty old men who sat pondering alongside other crusty men who agreed with their every word.  This guy was more of a devout worshipper than fellow student.  What made him so good that someone would treat him like a god, or perhaps, what made him so rich?  So worthy of being praised, so worthy of being devoted to?  How curious...

    You were currently writing down your record of the first week of school, the classes, the teachers, the many students from all walks of life.  Finishing each sentence with a flourish.  You set your journal down.  You learned that the blonde with violet eyes was some model named Vil Schoenheit.  And the blonde with the bob was Rook Hunt.  Two insignificant people that you'd probably forget in a couple of centuries... or well, that's what you assumed at first...

    Resting your back against the wall you inhale quietly, your mind taking you back to the memories of a bygone era, a bygone you.  "Whatever became of that faerie?" you mutter standing up from your spot.  Stretching your arms you toss the journal into your bag.  You hadn't heard much about him after he left, you never learned his name after all, it was hard to look for someone when you didn't know a basic fact about them.  Did he die in the war?  Did he have a family?  Those questions would continue to go unanswered most likely.  You missed him, that nocturnal fae that you watched grow up, the fae brought up by royalty, a mere peasant by hierarchy's standards.  But status didn't matter to you, and he appreciated that. 

    That was then however, this is now.  Seeing the students rush to classes, take their time chatting with friends, and teachers exchanging lesson plans.  The similar sights of your school back when you were mortal.  You sat by yourself at lunch time, occupying yourself by listening in on the busy chitter.  Sitting silently as you picked at the your meal for today, pondering at the pangs in your chest that struck as you reminisced about a time no longer.  Idly poking at the lukewarm pile of mashed potatoes with your fork, taking small bites of the tender steak.  Too caught up in your memories to savor the flavors of the meat. 

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Author's Thoughts

Scarlet-eyed fae - 'A good kid. Deserved better in life'

Vil Schoenheit - 'Nothing worth mentioning, dunno why he's famous'

Rook Hunt - 'desperate, fucking desperate'

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

A/N: thank you guys for being so patient!! have a wonderful day/afternoon/night :>

[infwctednyacifier]

Thank you so much! One more request for the day, you mentioned K-Angel dating a P-Chan? Could you make P-Chan? Thank you a lot

-✨🎀

🖥️⋆｡ 🩹 ₊˚ 👁˚. SINGLE, NEEDY STREAMER OVERLOAD = P-CHAN – ALTER PACK

Hold on, before we get to the request, I think YOU made me form Kokichi and Shuichi???? AND Kokichi makes me feel like a vamp pup while Shuichi makes me feel like a dog mf I think I formed YOUR Headmates??????? Also P-Chan faceclaim is actually the same as our Jimmy's faceclaim but they have the same vibe,,, :3

Names – P - Chan „ Riyuko „ Acid „ Blaze „ Akihiko „ Botan

Nicknames – Riyu „ Koko „ Aki „ Hiko „ Bo

Age – 25

Pronouns – he / him „ hy / hym „ zi / zir „ xe / xem „ ( Plural ) they / them „ eye / eye's „ weird / weird's

Gender – transmasc ( bottom & top surgery ) „ pupgender „ kidcoric „ liminalgender „ backroomic „ weirdcoric „ boything

Terms – masc „ thing „ pup

Orientation – mygirlfriendsexual ( heterosexual but you get my point )

Personality – silly „ weird „ creepy „ shy „ introverted „ selective mute in public „ obsessed with his girlfriend „ weeb / otaku

Role – depression holder ( if system has depression ) „ autism holder ( if system has autism ) „ ADHD holder ( if system has ADHD ) „ chronic pain holder ( if system has chronic pain ) „ paranoid schizophrenia holder ( if system has paranoid schizophrenia ) „ Binge Eating Disorder holder ( if system has BED )

Species – humanoid ( Backrooms creature )

Source – Needy Streamer Overload

Emojis – 🖥️ „ 🎮 „ 👾 „ 👁 „ 🔪 „ 🩹

Extra – nothing „ really . ig struggles w hygiene due to fatigue + wanting to just watch Youtube / play Minecraft all day . Most likely has his own little subsystem „ i'd say about 3 - 4 Headmates? Isolgenic ( formed due to being lonely ) and endogenic as well . Doesn't use proper punctuation „ grammar + doesn't spell words fully due to being low spoon basically 24 / 7 . Used to and is at risk of relapsing into self harm + is always stressed and wants to c/t but remembers he promised to get better for K-Angel <3

Example message – um hi. I'm p-chan n I use he/hy/zi/xe/eye/weird n weirdcore prns + plural they/them. I'm a transmasc, pupgender, kidcoric, liminalgender, backroomic, weirdcoric boything pup n I'm from kokichi's coven n I don't like talking. I just like Minecraft n being around my gf <3333333

Likes – his girlfriend „ Minecraft „ eating „ watching Minecraft videos „ the Backrooms

Dislikes – cats „ jealousy „ failure „ being lied to / tricked „ spicy food

Faceclaims –

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

I am late as hell but only by a day! Have some anticipation and just a touch of dread.

A warning: some purposefully unsettling descriptions of sculk.

-

Hermittober Day 16 (Late): Feather

-

Tango had no clue as to what was going on, and was extremely determined to find out what he did not know.

I mean, nothing this exciting had happened to him since Grian had gotten here, and the Basalt King was itching for more adventure. His tunnels were far from being complete, so why not go running off to X’s home with weapons, unannounced…

“… right when a snow storm was rolling in? I mean, something is up. And I’d like to know.”

The parrot, who Tango suddenly realized wasn’t Martyn, blinked her warm brown eyes at him. “I’m sorry, sir, but I think you have me confused for my husband. Nevertheless, none of us are able to tell you about what’s going on. Grian has insisted on you not going into the raid.”

Tango’s face froze for a moment. “W-W-What? But I’m completely ready to go in! I-I brought my flail and armor and magic stuff and everything!”

As he spoke, he opened his massive coat-cloak thing and revealed a truly insane amount of weaponry: his massive morningstar flail, a pair of short swords, what looked to be a pair of grenades, and an assortment of magical components, from bundles blaze rods to cheesecloth-covered balls of magma cream.

Grian popped out from somewhere behind the grey-and-gold who had been speaking, and grinned. “Oh, Tango, Tango! With an armory like that, there’s no way you’re not going in! Come on and suit up!”

“Oh, yeah!”

Tango joined the rest of the prospective raiders in the clanking and clinking of metal that came with equipping armor and sheathing swords and bundling arrows for quivers. He didn’t actually have to do much beyond slipping on leg and arm guards, so he took the chance to unsubtly look over the gear of the other raiders.

Etho, as usual, was dressed in barely any armor. The canid had naught but gauntlets and greaves of an odd colored metal, and some sort of high collar made of the same material. His axe was slung over his back, the double-head gleaming in the dusky light.

Impulse, by contrast, wore a veritable war-horse’s worth of armor. Every inch of him was covered in chainmail and plate, yet he still managed to move like a cat in the stuff. His heavy cavalry sword and crossbow were polished to a mirror shine.

Grian wore the exact same gear he had equipped when dueling Pearl, except metal: arm guards, a belt full of nasty surprises, and his cutlass. In addition, the parrot wore a helmet of iron and black metal, its face guard hooked like a beak.

The other parrot-folk wore similar armor but carried different weaponry: a feather-staff spear, a pair of short swords, and a longbow.

Everyone seemed to be rather nervous, which was only natural, given the circumstances.

Suddenly, the parrot with the feather-staff whirled around and pointed his weapon at a tree. “Show yourself, sovereign! I can smell that sculk!”

The snow-covered spruce rustled as Cub dropped down from a low branch, his white coat invisible in the kicked up powder. The sculk on his body stood out starkly against his transparent skin, growths pulsing with sickly light from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his wings. He raised his arms in surrender.

His voice was unsteady and carefully dispassionate. “Sorry. Couldn’t help following. Had to come. I’ll help. I’m hungry. Sorry. That’s a lie. We’re hungry.”

Grian waved for the parrot to lower his weapon. “Calm down, Tomo. I knew he was here. Can you control it, Cub?”

“We are in agreement. For once. We will help you. We feel our lost kin.”

Grian nodded, and looked towards the mountainside. “Well then. Etho, you sure you can get us in?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

The two proceeded to lope and gilde-run up the mountain, followed closely by the Evo birds and Cub. Tango shared a look with Impulse, who shrugged and began running after them on all fours. Tango stood there for a moment, and sighed before breaking into a dead sprint. He’d overtaken them all by the time they found the door.

[thisnabisdead]

For all the things I wanted

Adam writes it as a wish.

The pen travels across the paper over and over, transmitting the ferocity of his desire, the intensity of his longing, all the nights he went to sleep thinking of him, all the mornings in which he was the first thing to come into his mind.

I want you to be my first

He starts, creating a special place within the gardens of his psyche just for Will, a secret forest just for them, in which they can discover each other's bodies as if they're searching for the treasure on a pirate's map, a place where Will can love him as Adam loves him, a place where they can finally get what they want.

I want to conquer your body with my hands, I want to touch and memorize every mole and every scar. I want to trace your nose with my fingertips, poke every blackhead and pimple like I'm touching the constellations that lay right above our heads. I want to forget what a human body looks like just so I can experience you as God's first creation, I want to glance into the veins in your sclera believing them to be the lines of my life. I want you to be my life

They just pour out of him, resembling a flood, these absurd words that could be laughed at by so many, they are the truth inside his heart, and Adam doesn't want to be a coward, not anymore, so he writes and writes and writes, until he has nothing more to write, until there are no words left on the dictionary that could ever be equal or worthy of Will.

I want your mouth, I want to feel the shape of your front teeth with my tongue, I want your tongue in mine, I want to dance with you among the wetness. I want your hands around my neck, I want my hands around your neck, I want to be breathless for you, I want to give you my every breath just as much as I want to give you my last. I want your legs around me, I want my legs around you, I want you in me just as much as I want me to be engraved deep inside you, I want to feel and become your insides, I want to be part of your walls, I want to be one of the paintings hanging in your living room.

Adam cries, sobs, his tears wetting the paper with his honesty, with his desire, desire that burns his insides, the dwarf blazing feeling inside his chest only growing bigger and bigger, he wants to hide, he wants to run, wants to run after Will, wants to be his and wants him to be his.

I want to be the green chair in your dining room, I want to be the fork you use to eat your eggs in the morning, I want to be the eggs. I want to be the pages of your favorite novel, that old book you touch so delicately just because the paper is too fragile for your usual roughness. I want to be the cigarette you smoke in the evenings, I want to be the teddy bear you still keep in your bed after all these years, I want to be the calico cat waiting at your door at 3am, meowing for you to let him in, I want to be that same door, I want to be the one thing between you and the world, I want to be the world

He wants to be anything, anything Will could ever possibly want and need, Adam's legs shake under the desk, the hand holding the pen all sweaty and trembling, vision too blurry, mind too hazy, but he looks up and stares out the window anyways. The moon is as bright as always, as bright as the boy who birthed his yearning and night terrors.

Above all, I want to be yours, I want everything and anything, I want to be the reason you regain your heart, I want to be your after hours conversations, I want to be the lover you will take back to your mother when you finally have the courage to tell her you won't ever need her again, I want to be the one you wash the dishes for wearing that silly stained cat-themed apron, I want to be the one you fight about the wet towel laying on the mattress, I want to be the one you cuddle on the couch while watching television, I want to be the one you walk home after nights out. I want you when it's dark and I want you when it's bright, and I want this to be the place in time I finally get what I want.

Adam finishes, then folds the paper four times, when he is over the shape is a perfect square. He writes his name in it, and then Will's. The boy stands up and carefully places his letter inside the novel resting on Will's bedside table, the paper still peeking out a little, just so he will notice.

The calico cat meows at Adam as if it's singing when he finally leaves his best friend's apartment, he wonders through each step of his feet as he leaves the building what name could he gift to the confession that was just written - and it finally comes to him - along with a hopeless, silent, miserable giggle.

For all the things I wanted.

[6okuto]

BRUH I REALLY WISH I DIDNT ASK FOR MICAH YUJIN IN ANON FKDNXKDNXK Okay anyways HIII I USED TO BE AN ANON HERE BUT NOW I HAVE AN ACC HAHA FEAR ME /j...unLESS-- OK ANYWAYS pls share that discord u talked abt!!! i wanna joinnnnn AND ALSO A PART 2 FOR MICAH OUR KING????? YES P L E A S E

— micah yujin boyfriend hcs 2

don't worry guys this one was not as long. (part 1 here !) also wow. a past anon..wow. heyy 😍 and the discord link is on the official itch.io page i think but !!

https://discord.gg/Smhppc7J :]

always sends you funny posts/videos he finds and makes sure to react to each one you send Him

^ has and will continue to send you videos where the 12 year old kid is matching initials as soulmates and you show up.

sends you pics of skrunkly (and him) basically on a daily basis. always captions it something stupid (/affectionate)

^ combining these two to discuss cat trends that you keep sending him so he goes OH THAT'S A GOOD IDEA

micah loves doing chores with you!! grocery shopping, Laundry And Taxes, etc etc. #QUALITYTIME i get it. you might not be Quick with him around but it's fun so i consider it a win

^ wants to try cooking new meals with you, especially any of your own cultural food ! if you can't cook then he Will offer to teach you

if you give him any jewelry he won't take it off (said by girl who does the same thing)

do(n't) play co-op horror games with him. will go in guns blazing then start yelling and running to you when he inevitably gets in trouble. actually pretty good when he tries but he doesn't try so what do we do now🤨

^ if you're playing a competitive team game and he's on your team,, there's a good chance micah will Sacrifice Himself very dramatically. if you sacrifice yourself he swears on your life to avenge you

would be very much (sends random text at 3am) (you respond) (wow i cant believe you're Awake?)

you must have a build-a-bear date. it is Necessary. personally i'd get sonic and tails together but you guys do you?

trying to get up in the morning w this guy...one of you is definitely not letting go and repeatedly asking for 5 more minutes until you're inevitably in bed for another hour

there's multiple times where you come home and find him hugging something of yours fast asleep. sorry. i am so sad

shakes you violently. do his makeup. sit on his lap and do his makeup. make him sit somewhere and stand in between his legs and do his makeup. do it . do i

micah is very good at knowing when he should be serious . if he knows you've had a bad day he does everything he can to make you comfortable and remind you he loves you — snacks, cuddles, watching the show you guys always watch, rambling so you can just listen, bringing skrunkly over, etc etc o(-(

currently imagining someone performing on the street, micah bowing and offering a hand, and saying "would you offer me this dance, your highness?" like i will burst into tears rn

i think when he hears an animal he repeats the sound. sorry this isn't boyfriend specific but like a bird cawing and him cawing back. meows at stray cats. you stopped walking 3 minutes ago and micah is still crouching on the ground trying to get its attention

he was not kidding about the maid dress thing. the Real trick is to show up in a matching maid dress/butler outfit. is micah frozen in place staring at you,, maybe

you know those stuffy riders. the mall animal rides. i'm not even going to finish this thought you know what you need to do.

grabs your shoulders and says smth like you're my ride or die before going on big carnival rides. like..thank you. makes some kind of competition out of it (who screams the most/least, etc etc)

^ makes little jokes about those couples in lines but would be that couple with you. "we're the exception, obviously."

have you seen that guy's abs. anyways. micah doing the push up kiss thing. you cheering him on because he "gets way stronger" when he knows his angel is there

if you dye your hair to match his/skrunkly he will explode. might cry a little idk

doesn't realize it sometimes but he stands in front of you to block the sun when it's super sunny

if you hurt yourself he kisses wherever it is. goodnight

bites u /affectionate

not to act like some old married couple or anything but he Will ask if you want to watch like, home renovation shows together. which i love btw. he gets very opinionated

uses the reversible octopus plushies

if you're sitting next to each other and micah notices you're tired he'll wordlessly pull your head to lay against his shoulder

would use one of those apps where you can send each other notes/drawings as a widget. will he write a cheesy pun or draw a penis That Is Not Up To Me

[crepusculum-rattus]

35 but can i request ur rambling bc about your hardcore phil. i want to know more about him always

you Can :D!!! i love rambling abt this guy.. i’ve got so much just sitting in my notes app about Him. also i was getting ready for work while writing this so it took a Minute :P

so My hardcore phil.. hes my pathetic and fucked up cat who is dunked in milk daily❤️ okay haha! i’ll actually ramble about the beginnings of his story bc i think it provides the best Insight abt Him..

so when i was on vacation w my family i was like “hrmmm i want an excuse to write ender and phil interacting.” and it just Snowballed from there. bc i had to find my way through Why they would interact and how to characterize ender.

the idea was that phil is entirely new to a hardcore style world (in the logistics where players can choose the type of server they enter ehhh it’s best not to worry abt this part tbh). he’s good at surviving, he’s good at being alone (he claims). but he keeps stumbling upon structures that were clearly built By someone (cough cough it was the gods). and he’s like “haha Weird” bc sometimes he’s a bit of an idiot and thinks nothing of it… he just keeps on exploring and progressing, working on his base and all that stuff.

aaaand he’s finds his way into the nether, and manages to Stumble upon the blaze empress. and they just Don’t get along. so he gets and bad first impression of the deities (since she’s the first deity he actually Talks to). it’s not rlly the empress’ fault, she’s just Stressed bc ender has always been a little bitch, and she doesn’t trust this random guy who claims he just stumbled into her domain (even tho that’s fr what happened).

but like Whatever.. he’s like “okay fine jeez i’ll fucking leave.” and decides to take it Personally that she doesn’t like him, and tries his best to avoid the nether all together after that. luckily he’s got most of what he needs already.. since his goal IS to earn wings in this world which you usually get from going to the end and killing the dragon. soooo he’s just an entirely human dude for most of this. literally just a Guy

and eventually he finds himself in the end. and it’s .. Wrong. he knows it is. he stands in the center of all the pillars for what feels like hours and no dragon appears. it’s just overwhelmingly Silent…….. and then the fucking bitch bastard, ender, appears. and he can very clearly Tell that he’s a god, and is immediately like “before you say anything, i’m Trying to leave but i fucking can’t yet. so shut up. i get it.” but ender just smiles and phil, the idiot, takes it as a good thing that ender appears to be polite and isn’t yelling at him to leave his realm.

there’s a strange lingering feeling around ender but he just takes it as general weirdness from a god. but he ends up talking to ender because the god seems curious as to why phil is There. when phil tells him he’s trying to earn wings (which you usually get from killing the dragon lmao) ender offers for him to stay. it’s not like phil can exactly Leave since he doesn’t really have a way to get out, but the offer is nice. so he takes it :)

aaanddddd that’s the beginning of Him and his time in his hardcore world. very fun very good,, he’s not in danger at all. and it’s not like he’s Stupid, i mean he’s surviving hardcore, he just hasn’t interacted with a lot of people in general. so he’s not.. Great at knowing when someone is just using him. plus he can be pretty stubborn in his opinions of people, so he’s like.. always weary of the blaze empress even later when he needs her help. the same stubbornness is also what makes it Hard for him later once he finally knows ender better. smile.

[alistair-blackwood]

MoMM Chapter 5 - The Storm, Part 2 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1

All he could do now was outlast this storm. Stay sane. No use agonising over the things he couldn’t change. Mum was …

He let out a long exhale, pushing through the weight that lingered on his chest.

Mum was going to have to carry on without him. She was a survivor, after all. He had faith. He just hoped things didn't change too much while he was gone– that the world will still be recognisable.

With Jon’s help, his eyes full of light and concern, and his small, scarred hand gently holding Martin's, he might stand a chance of making it.

The Storm, Part 2

Dear Mum

How have you been doing? I’ve been well. I’m sorry my letter’s a bit late this month, but things have been a little topsy-turvy. I wish I could tell you more about what was going on, but I hardly understand it all myself.

I’m out of a job. Things ended badly and I’m sure I won’t be welcome back at the Lord’s estate, but I’ll do my best to find something else as soon as I can. Something better. I’ll work twice as hard. I know it won’t make up for the missing payments, but I’ll try to make things right. 

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the meantime. I’ve met someone, and he’s been helping me through all this. We’ve started working on a garden together. I know you’ve always hated gardening, but maybe he and I can grow something remarkable that’ll impress you. Jon doesn’t have much hope, but I’m sure there’s a respectable gardener somewhere between the two of us.

I think you’d like him. He’s kind.

Love,

Martin

 ~

“Jon, these all look the same to me.”

“This is a tulip seed. I’m certain of it.”

“Are you? Because on the pamphlet, it looks like an azalea.”

“Those don’t look anything alike.”

“Just drop it in the pit, will you? We’ll figure out what it is at some point.”

With a sigh, Jon did as told, settling back on his haunches as Martin filled the pit back in with soil. “Is it just me, or does this not strike you as proper gardening?”

“Would either of us know what proper gardening looked like?”

“… That’s a fair enough point, I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Jon closed his eyes, shaking out his shoulders. Wiggled, honestly. Did he even know he did that? The wiggling. Like a cat preparing to pounce. Martin had to bite his inner cheek to keep from grinning at the image.

Jon had hung his cloak at the greenhouse entrance and once again Martin was able to appreciate how small the man was, for all the space he took in Martin’s head. Dirt crusted his clipped fingernails and he’d smeared a streak of soil on his cheek. A child begging to be scolded for ruining their Sunday best. Martin didn’t think the man would be so comfortable being filthy.

Comfortable. Perhaps that’s what captivated Martin.

After everything the man had been through – years of loneliness and years more of a nightmare come to life – he still managed to be so … normal? Martin didn’t like how that word tasted, but it was the only one he could think of. Martin had only suffered a few weeks and that had been enough to make him go a bit looney. But Jon …? 

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Stay … I don’t know, yourself?” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the plots. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to start this particular conversation, but the question had poured out of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve only been here a month and I've already almost gone off my rocker at least once. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re … remarkably well-adjusted?” 

An eyebrow popped up. “Who says I’m well-adjusted?”

“I– Well–”

“Should I have a wild beard, then? A mad glint to my eyes?”

“Well, I’m not sure about a beard, but you haven’t seen yourself chopping radishes.”

“What? It’s satisfying. You understand, don’t you?” Jon scraped the shadowy stubble on his jaw. “Could never grow a beard, anyway. Too patchy.”

“I’m sure it would look brilliant.”

Jon hummed as he absently dug at a pit with the trowel. Martin fidgeted with the azalea seeds in his palm (maybe tulips?), before he bit his lip. Bit of a rude question, after all. Hey, why aren’t you insane actually? Probably not the best time to ask.

But as Martin opened his mouth, Jon sighed.

“To be honest, I barely noticed the difference at first. I’d already spent so much of my time alone in the archives, so by the time I was truly alone, I … supposed I’d already gotten used to it?”

Martin struggled to temper his expression, heart shattering in his chest. He hadn’t expected a nice answer, but something about Jon’s casual shrug made it all a little bit worse. Could Martin, for all his own loneliness, even imagine what that’s like? Being so alone that by the time his house has been emptied, he didn’t even notice the difference? 

A chill crawled up Martin’s arms, far too familiar and unwelcome in the warmth of the greenhouse. There had to be something he could do or say that could be helpful here. Something that could ease Jon’s burden, if only slightly.

“Well, it must have been nice not having to wear trousers all the time, at least.”

“… What?”

Martin blinked, processing his own words, and his face blazed with heat. “W-well, you live alone, you don’t have to wear trousers. That’s one of the perks, right?” 

“No! What would even– What purpose would that serve?”

“I mean, you’re basically doing the same thing already. Just, you know, in the opposite direction.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Right, sure. And you just like swanning about in that great big billowing cloak of yours, because …? It’s silk, it’s not as if it’s keeping you warm.”

The undertones of Jon’s face glowed. His eyes dropped to his fingers, picking the dirt out of his cuticles.

“I … That’s different. I just enjoy the way it feels.”

“Not that different. It’s about the indulgence.”

Jon rolled his eyes. With a lurch, he plucked up one of the seeds and stuffed it into the soil, and Martin leaned back as he tamped the pit with manic zeal before he settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms.

Martin gave the satchel a little shake. “Was that a tulip or an azalea?” 

Jon stiffened, eyes widening. “I-I, uh … I’m not sure? I wasn’t really looking.”

Their eyes met and the air hung heavy between them. Jon’s lips quivered. Martin’s cheeks grew sore holding his expression in place.

Then, a burst of giggles erupted between them. Jon keeled over, clutching his sides, and Martin quickly ran out of air, chest aching as he gasped for breath.

Jon recovered first, wiping his eye and smearing more dirt onto his cheek. “I … I suppose I can concede that the logic is similar.” He looked unhinged, deranged, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he sheepishly dug out the seed that might have been a tulip.

At least Martin could make him laugh. Not the most helpful thing, but it was something.

That chill didn’t go away, though, not entirely. It lingered on the tips of Martin’s fingers and the chambers of his heart, even as they both stood, wiping their hands of dirt. Did Jon notice it, too? His expression remained content and tranquil as he prepared the watering can, a gentle, absent-minded smile tweaking his mouth.

Martin tried to shake off the feeling.

It was probably just his imagination.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

[voiceless-terror]

If it’s okay, how about “You always do that. You always warm me up.” and/or “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with jontim for the soft sentence prompts? your writing is some of my favourite of all time and your jontim especially is just *chefs kiss* mwah. Incredible.

Some soft JonTim for one of my favorite artists! Always happy to have another friend to spread the good word of this pairing, a particular favorite of mine. Hope you enjoy!

“Jon, you look wrecked.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied said wreck. “I’ve just got a cold, that’s all.”

Tim fixed him with an incredulous look. Jon stumbled through the doors of the library this morning looking for all the world like the equivalent of ‘hammered shit’ (Sasha’s words). Jon’s usual vibe was tired and harried on a good day, but this was pushing it. He only managed to get about half of his hair into a bun, the rest hanging limply around his face. He’d thrown a chunky cardigan over his clothes to hide that they were the same ones from yesterday. It did not work. Complete with red cheeks and bleary eyes, the man was not fit to be in a workplace.

Jon begged to differ. “I’m fine,” he said, burying a cough in his elbow. “I took medicine. Look.” With that, he dug a crushed box of liquid capsules out of his bag and threw it haphazardly in the direction of Tim, who caught it in startled hands.

“This is expired,” he replied after one look at the box. “It’s also not meant for daytime. When did you take this again?” Jon frowned uncomprehendingly as he attempted to parse out the words and Tim would’ve gathered him up in his arms right then if it wouldn’t embarrass him.

“Hmm.” The question should not be difficult. “‘Bout an hour ago, maybe?” Jon listed dangerously to the side, grabbing at his desk to keep steady and in the process knocking an overflowing cup of pencils to the ground. “Oops.” Jon was occasionally a man of few words, but ‘oops’ was not one of them. Tim immediately got to his feet, rushing over to steady him.

“‘Oops’ is right.” He gently managed to get Jon to his feet, leaning most of his body weight against Tim’s side. “You’re going home.” Jon just slumped further into his arms, barely managing a nod. His sudden compliance worried Tim; usually, Jon would put up way more of a fuss, getting snippy and slapping his hands away. This easy submission, while appreciated, made him more nervous than reassured.

“G’bye, Sasha,” Jon attempted a wave on the way out that looked more like a vague swatting of the air. “Tim’s takin’ me home.” She smiled indulgently, giving the two of them a wave in return.

“Take care of your man, Tim! And that’s an order.”

Tim would’ve saluted if he didn’t have an armful of Jon. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Your man?” Jon mumbled as they made their way down the hallway, sinking further into his side. He said it as if the words were foreign, confusing. Tim couldn’t help his laughter. 

“Well, yeah.” He nodded in thanks to Rosie, who held the door open on the way out with a pitying look at Jon. The air outside was cold, bracing- Jon’s ridiculously chunky cardigan still wasn’t enough against the wind. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you in your hour of need?” In a stroke of luck, he managed to snag a cab as soon as someone exited at the building next door. The less time outside, the better. “In you go!” He managed to gently extract Jon from his side and maneuver him into the back of the car. He rattled off his own address to the cabbie- if all Jon had at home was an expired packet of night-time medicine, he didn’t have much faith in the rest of his medical supplies.

He shut the car door and turned to find Jon staring at him in a sort of wide-eyed, loopy wonder. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so concerning. “What is it?” he asked, running a comforting hand over his arm. “Are you okay?”

“We’re...boyfriends?” Shit. Tim realized they hadn’t used the term before and here he was, just casually slipping it out. It was not unlike him; Sasha always teased him at how easily he fell in love. But he was trying to take it slowly with Jon, do things right. Jon deserved that.

“I mean...yes?” It came out more nervously than he’d like, Jon was really doing him in with those giant, hopeful eyes. Damn him. He tried for familiar, easy ground. “I’ve been wining and dining you all around town. Do my forehead kisses mean nothing to you?” He put a hand to his chest, dramatic and exaggerated. “I’m wounded.”

“No!” Jon exclaimed, grabbing at the hand on Tim’s chest with an unexpected strength. “I like those. Please don’t stop.” His face was a blazing fever-red and filled with concern, not unlike when he was drunk and oblivious to teasing. “You won’t stop, w-will you?”

Tim’s heart melted without his permission. “Course not.” He took the small hand and squeezed it with his own. Jon sunk into a similarly sappy expression; he had no right being this adorable on expired cold medication. God, he loved him.

Shit.

Jon continued to talk, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Iz’zat why you got me those Valentine’s chocolates?”

Shit.

“And the bear?”

Love? The big ol’ ‘L’ word? What if he’d sprung that on Jon like this, in the back of a cab when he wouldn’t remember it?

“And the balloon?”

How embarrassing for him. Truly.

“And the card?” Tim had forgotten Jon was still talking.

“Yes!” He choked out against Jon’s interrogation. “God, I didn’t realize how much of a sap I was.” Jon giggled in response, a high, happy sound incongruous with his usual sarcastic snorts.

“Yeah, you are.” He snuggled into Tim’s side; he could feel the heat radiating from the man, even through his jacket. “You gotta tell me these things. Else I won’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jon was a literal man, Tim knew this. But he hadn’t exactly been subtle in his overtures.

“Boyfriends,” Jon sighed dreamily. “I like that.”

Hopefully he would remember this conversation.

__________

“This is not my flat.”

“Got it in one, Sherlock.”

He shuffled Jon through the door, depositing him as gently as possible on the couch and wrapping a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, eyes at half-mast and a confused look on his face. “Gonna wait on the paracetamol, at least until the shit you’re on wears off.”

“Hnnh.” Jon leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes in contentment like a particularly lazy cat. “Kay.” Tim puttered about in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and wetting a rag; he should at least attempt to get the fever under control, Jon’s insistence on layers wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t say no to him, shaking and shivering as he was. Jon deserved a blanket burrito if he wanted one.

Tim pushed the glass of water into Jon’s hands, urging him to take a couple of sips before he set it back down. He plopped himself down on the couch, maneuvering Jon so that he was laying against his chest and placing the damp rag on his forehead, despite his protests. “We’re going to watch some crap telly and you’re going to take a nap. Sound good?” He should’ve probably gotten the remote before he laid down, but now that Jon was snuggled against his chest he was pretty much immovable.

“You’re not going back to work?” Jon asked the question as if Tim staying home was uncalled for and strange. He snorted in response. Typical Jon.

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon managed to lift his head a few precious centimeters, though he was straining with the effort. He looked as if he were going to say something very important, but he instead just collapsed back against his chest and buried his face in Tim’s jumper with a lazy purr of contentment. I can’t believe I’m dating a literal cat.

“God, you’re really burning up,” Tim rearranged the towel so it was back on his forehead, having fallen off during Jon’s attempt at conversation.

His next words were muffled against Tim’s chest. “You always do that. You always warm me up.” 

Tim almost audibly cooed at the sentiment before seeing an opportunity for a joke and taking it. Let it never be said that Tim Stoker missed an opening.

“Why Jon,” his voice took on an unbearable, teasing tone as his smile grew. “Are you saying I’m so hot I made you sick?” Jon groaned at the words, as expected.

“No.”

“How does that song go, again? You’re givin’ me fev-aah-”

“Shut up, Tim!” He let out a quiet chuckle, giving Jon a light squeeze in apology.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest.” Jon sighed, curling up in his arms. They stayed like that for some time; Tim rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Just when he thought Jon had been lulled to sleep, he spoke up in a quiet tone.

“You...you actually have a nice voice.” The words were slurred and Tim tried not to take offense at the ‘actually’ addendum. “But maybe just a bit quieter. And just a hum. Thanks.”

He snickered. “Will do.”

“Love you.” Tim froze, his hand stilling in its movements. He doesn’t mean it, he told himself firmly. He’s just tired and loopy. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. Still, he responded and the intensity behind the words was surprising even to him.

“Love you, too.”

Jon slept and Tim ran his fingers through his hair, listening to his soft snores. In an hour or two, he’d make him soup and insist on a dose of real meds. And that night, when Jon was curled around him in bed, with clear eyes and a lucid voice he’d repeat the words he mumbled earlier. And he would mean them.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977733

[flowercrown-bard]

To give without knowing (20/20)

AO3

previous /  masterpost

word count: ~4k

Epilogue

Geralt and Jaskier’s room at Kaer Morhen was lit with an assortment of candles that painted a faint golden glow onto Jaskier’s skin. From his place - his head lying on Jaskier’s lap - Geralt looked up at him, with no need to hide everything he felt for the bard.

He looked beautiful in this light. He always did. And so Geralt told him, because there needn’t be any more secrets. Finding the right words was still hard for Geralt and more often than not, he closed off and tried to hide away instead of confronting Jaskier about his feelings, but he knew that at the end of the day, he could talk to Jaskier and that he would stay with him. That he loved him.

“You’re beautiful.”

Jaskier’s fingers that were running through Geralt’s hand in a soothing motion, faltered for a moment, but then Jaskier’s lips spread into a wide smile.

“You are too,” he replied, his hand leaving Geralt’s tresses for long enough to trace his face; smooth out the perpetual crease between his brows, caress his cheeks and run a thumb over his lips. Without thinking, Geralt pressed a small kiss against his thumb, making Jaskier’s smile brighten.

He didn’t need to think anymore, didn’t need to doubt or agonise over his or Jaskier’s feelings. If the weeks travelling with Jaskier by his side in which he had been allowed to kiss him and tell him how much he meant to him, however often he wanted, hadn’t been enough to convince Geralt that he had no reason to be scared, the months they had been together at Kaer Morhen had left no doubt about how Jaskier felt.

Geralt closed his eyes again, giving a content hum as Jaskier’s fingers trailed his nose, his brow and found their way back to his hair. Absentmindedly, Jaskier began to part his tresses and weave them into a lose braid.

If anyone had told Geralt a year ago, that he could have this, he would have snorted in disbelief and turned away, despite his heart aching for it.

Now, though, it was as natural as breathing – as natural as loving Jaskier - to let him run his fingers through his hair whenever he pleased. Geralt had dreamed about this for so long and yet the reality of it was better than anything he could have ever imagined.

When Geralt had searched for the carvings, he had imagined Jaskier talking endlessly about whatever held his interest at the moment and he would have been happy to listen to Jaskier if that was what he wanted to do. But Jaskier didn’t rant about the pranks Lambert kept pulling on him and his plans for revenge, nor did he gush about the elven poetry Eskel had showed him in the library. Instead, Jaskier quietly hummed to himself. Geralt wasn’t even sure Jaskier realised he was doing it, but with every note Jaskier sang, Geralt felt lighter.

“Sing the words for me?” he asked softly enough to not interrupt Jaskier’s humming.

Jaskier didn’t falter in his song, but without missing a beat, he added words to the melody. They were the exact same words that had torn into Geralt’s chest with icy claws, not five months ago. And yet, as Jaskier now sang of moonlight-strands of hair and blazing eyes of liquid fire, Geralt felt warmth flood his insides and he couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at his lips. He didn’t want to stop himself either. Not when he now knew that those words that had caused him so much agony, had been meant for him all along.

Low enough that Jaskier might not be able to hear it, Geralt hummed the melody as well. The bitter winter winds howling outside created a haunting harmony to their song. Theirs, because this too had been written for Geralt.

Geralt snuggled closer against Jaskier’s warmth, knowing that soon enough, Vesemir would tell him to go fix the roof of one of the towers or spar with his brothers. For now, though, Geralt was allowed to be with his beloved, for no reason other than that they simply wished to be close to one another.

Jaskier finished the braid and let his hands caress Geralt’s face again. As he sang of hands so gentle and so strong, Geralt reached out and enclosed Jaskier’s wrist with his hand. There was a slight hitch in Jaskier’s breathing and an amused and curious note entered his voice, but he didn’t stop singing. When Geralt opened his eyes, he was met with a gaze so soft and loving that it took his breath away.

Slowly – not because of doubt or fear, but because he wanted to savour the moment – Geralt brought Jaskier’s hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss against each of his knuckles.

When he was done, he brought his other hand to Jaskier’s face and tugged him closer. Jaskier followed his lead happily and leaned over to kiss Geralt.

The position wasn’t comfortable for either of them, with Geralt having to lift his head off Jaskier’s lap and Jaskier having to bend his back to meet each other’s lips, but Geralt wouldn’t exchange this for anything else. Jaskier moved slowly against him, smiling into the kiss as Geralt cradled the back of his head.

“Jaskier?” Geralt pulled back just enough to speak, but still holding Jaskier close.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up just the same as they had the first time Geralt had said it.

“I love you too.”

They didn’t need to say it out loud - both of them knew how the other felt – and yet, Geralt’s heart beat faster every time the words fell from his lips. He didn’t need to say them, but he could. And he wanted to. After spending so much time thinking that Jaskier wouldn’t want to ever hear those words coming from Geralt’s lips, he relished in seeing Jaskier’s face brighten whenever he uttered them, just as much as he loved hearing Jaskier say it back.

Geralt’s hand wandered up, brushing the scar that was barely visible anymore above Jaskier’s brow. He leaned up to press a soft kiss against it, but fell back onto Jaskier’s lap with a frustrated growl. This really wasn’t the best position to do this.

The muffled sound of Jaskier’s laughter made Geralt stop his grumbling and when Geralt threw him a mock-glare Jaskier’s shoulders only shook more.

“Do you want to sit up?” Jaskier suggested with a grin. “Might be more practical.”

Geralt huffed, drawing his brows together in a frown that he knew wouldn’t fool Jaskier.

“I’m comfortable where I am.”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully and tugged lightly on a strand of hair that had come loose from Geralt’s braid.

“But consider this: If you sit up, we can kiss more comfortably.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes and as if he still needed to contemplate Jaskier’s words. He cocked his head, which must look strange as he was still lying down.

“Could we hug too?”

“You know you don’t have to ask.” Jaskier rolled his eyes, but his expression softened. “But yes, we can hug too.”

He opened his arms a little and immediately, Geralt sat up and turned so he could wrap his arms around Jaskier and bury his head in the crook of his neck. Jaskier’s content sigh ghosted over his neck and made goosebumps erupt all over his skin, as he rubbed small circles into his back.

The very same motion had been used so often to soothe each other, to comfort and tell the other that they were protected. Now, though, it was just a caress, a drawing of lazy patterns, simple as that. They didn’t hold each other close to fend off the cold and there was no need for comfort. They simply embraced because they wanted to.  

For a moment, Geralt closed his eyes and just took in the feeling of having Jaskier in his arms. He nuzzled into Jaskier’s neck, laughing lightly when Jaskier complained that the bits of loose hair tickled.

When Geralt opened his eyes again, his gaze fell onto the shelf Eskel had helped install on the wall opposite the bed. Most of the shelf was occupied with little trinkets and knickknacks Jaskier had insisted were important to bring with him. Books, hair brushes, a small vial of perfume and Jaskier’s attempts at knitting, which Geralt had come to accept as part of their room now. All of it was something Jaskier valued for one reason or another and seeing it in the room that used to be so barren and cold most winters, ignited a bright flame in Geralt’s chest. All of those things were a reminder that Jaskier belonged here with him, that he had chosen Geralt and intended to stay.

And yet, despite how much meaning Geralt read into these things, it was nothing compared to the feeling he got when his eyes fell onto the top shelf. There, in a neat row, sat the carvings Geralt had given Jaskier. His lips quirked up and he let out a small laugh when he saw the stick sitting between the cat and the fish. Over the months, they had made a game out of Geralt pretending to throw the stick out and hiding it away until Jaskier found it again. Jaskier had become better and better at finding all of Geralt’s hiding spots. Granted, Geralt had never truly tried to make the snake unfindable. If he wanted to keep things hidden, he had ways to do so. Thankfully.

“What’s so funny?” Jaskier asked, and pulled back just enough to be able to see Geralt’s face. His hands slid down Geralt’s shoulders and arms until he was tenderly holding Geralt’s hands in his.

“Nothing,” Geralt said, giving Jaskier’s hand a light squeeze. “I’m just happy that you’re here.”

There were only two figures missing from the collection. The wolf and the horse stood on the nightstand next to their bed. Whenever Geralt held Jaskier at night, he could see them watching over them. He would have thought that after months, he would have gotten used to that sight and what it meant, but then again, he hadn’t gotten used to being able to the way Jaskier’s back fitted against his chest either. But he was more than happy to spend the rest of his life getting used to it. He doubted the warmth in his chest and the wonder that overcame him whenever Jaskier snuggled closer, would ever go away.

Jaskier followed Geralt’s gaze and let out a contemplative hum.

“I don’t want to leave the figurines here when we leave Kaer Morhen again.”

“I could always make you knew ones.” When Jaskier’s brows rose up, Geralt added, “Yes, I know that I don’t need to give you gifts.”

Jaskier nodded, pleased and lifted Geralt’s hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. Geralt couldn’t help but think that it felt like a reward.

“You could always take half of them with you,” he suggested. “You could put them in your rooms in Oxenfurt.” He hesitated, but one look in Jaskier’s eyes made him stomp down any doubts before they so much as became full thoughts. “So you won’t have to miss them when we spend the next winter there together.”

Jaskier’s face lit up. “That’s a wonderful idea. Especially since you so rudely thwarted our plans of having you come visit me there. I was looking forward to that.” He playfully jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Spending the winter there will more than make up for that.”

Geralt huffed in response to Jaskier’s teasing. He really could get used to this. He wanted to have moments like this one for the rest of his life. He wanted to have Jaskier with him for the rest of his life.

“I have something for you,” Geralt said, the sudden seriousness in his voice a stark contrast to the earlier playfulness. “I wasn’t sure when to give it to you, but if you’re worried about missing the carvings…this might help a little.”

He made to get up, but Jaskier stopped him from getting farther than a step, by holding fast onto his hand.

“Geralt, you just said – “

“I know,” Geralt interrupted softly. “I don’t need to. But I want to give you this. It’s…it would mean a lot to me.”

The fondness in Jaskier’s eyes as he nodded warmed Geralt from the inside. Geralt took another step away from the bed, but then he stopped.

“Close your eyes.”

Jaskier lifted an eyebrow with a grin. “Seriously?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and immediately Geralt narrowed his. He leaned in again and long before his lips ever reached Jaskier’s, a smile played around Jaskier’s mouth.

“You peeked,” Geralt said, just before brushing his lips against Jaskier’s.

“No I didn’t,” Jaskier said, still pretending rather badly to have his eyes closed.

Geralt snorted and reached for the shelf to pull down the scarf - if it could be called that – that Jaskier had attempted to knit over the course of the winter.

“Oh come on.” Jaskier’s grin took away the effect of his indignant tone. “You don’t need to blindfold me.”

Geralt didn’t reply, just placed the scarf around Jaskier’s head and secured it gently, making sure no hair got stuck in the knot. For a moment, he just took in Jaskier’s pout, the excited twitching of his hands and the way Jaskier tried to move his head in the direction Geralt was.

“Geralt?” he asked, making Geralt realise that he had gotten so lost in watching Jaskier that he had forgotten to move. “Are you still there? You know, this is really unfair, what with you moving soundlessly.”

“I’m still here.” Geralt pressed a kiss against the crown of Jaskier’s head, before turning away again and opening the chest in the far end of the room. He pressed against the inside of the chest lid, and the secret compartment he had built in there years ago, snapped open.

He hesitated a moment, before his fingers closed around the thing he had hidden in there. It might be too much, too soon. Despite having worked on this for longer than he had any other carving to perfect it, a spike of doubt shot up in him. Perhaps it wasn’t good enough. Maybe he should wait a little longer before he gave it to Jaskier.

One glance at Jaskier, bouncing a little on the bed in anticipation, dissipated all of his doubts. His fingers tightened around the gift and he walked back, kneeling onto the bed behind Jaskier.

Taking one last deep breath, he draped the thin chain of the necklace around Jaskier’s neck and clasped it. Immediately, Jaskier’s hand shot up to run over the wooden pendant lying above his heart. His breath hitched as he traced the fine carving on it.

“Geralt?”

Geralt unfastened the knot holding the scarf in place and moved so he could see Jaskier’s face as he took in the necklace Geralt had made for him.

Jaskier’s breath hitched.

“It’s-“ His words broke off with a choked sound as his eyes lit up with more joy than Geralt had ever imagined he could bring to him. His voice was but a breath, when he finished, “- beautiful.”

Jaskier truly was. He always had been. When the sunlight shone onto him, his hair would turn nearly golden. When he smiled, his eyes would crinkle at the sides and when he woke up and yawned in a truly undignified manner, his tousled hair would make Geralt want to run his hands through it to smooth it out.

Now though, with a wooden wolf medallion resting against his chest, Geralt was sure that Jaskier had never looked more beautiful.

“It’s just like yours,” Jaskier marvelled as he tilted the pendant to see all the details and the shading Geralt had burned into the wood with a controlled igni, that he had had to practice with Eskel first before he had been confident enough in his skill to use it to adorn Jaskier’s gift.

Geralt hummed, a pleased flutter in his chest at how happy Jaskier sounded at the prospect.

“Not quite,” Geralt said. When Jaskier gave him a quizzical look, Geralt added, “Flip it over.”

Jaskier did as he was told and when he realised what was on the other side of the medallion, he let out a small gasp and his eyes widened. Almost reverently, he stroked a finger over the delicate buttercups that were engraved into the wood.

“This might be a little easier to take with you on the Path,” Geralt said, catching Jaskier’s hand and holding it gently. Months of fear told him to amend what he had said and add that Jaskier didn’t have to take it with him if he didn’t want to. He was well aware that with this carving, there would be no doubt whom he had gotten it from. He knew he shouldn’t doubt, but still… “You can wear it so others can only see the buttercups, if you don’t want to be seen with the wolf medallion.”

Jaskier’s brows kitted together and he dropped the medallion back to his chest.

“The only reason why I would wear it like that is so I could keep the wolf closer to my heart.”

Geralt’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“You like the gift then?”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkled at the sides with a smile as he gave Jaskier’s hand a light squeeze.

“I love it.” He leaned forward to steal a kiss from Geralt. “And I love you.”

When Jaskier pulled away again, Geralt chased the kiss, burying his free hand in Jaskier’s hair and relishing in the feeling of Jaskier smiling against his lips.

“Greedy,” Jaskier teased.

“Can’t I be?”

“When it comes to kisses? Always. There’s nothing I would rather give you.”

Geralt took it as an invitation to steal another kiss. Jaskier laughed lightly, breaking the kiss with the sound. Geralt didn’t mind. There was no sound more beautiful than Jaskier’s laugh and no feeling better than knowing Geralt had been the one to get Jaskier to make that sound.

Geralt’s hand left Jaskier’s hair and played with Jaskier’s two-sided medallion.

“You never gave me an answer,” he began slowly, “when I asked you why you had chosen your name to be a flower.”

“Ah.” The hint of a shadow fell onto Jaskier’s face. “I never did tell you, did I?”

A spike of uncertainty pierced Geralt’s chest and he drew away.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just…I might have been a bit dramatic when I chose that name.”

“As opposed to now, when there’s not a single dramatic bone in your body,” Geralt deadpanned, earning him a snort and a swat to the arm from Jaskier.

“Oh shush you,” Jaskier said, with laughter in his eyes. “I mean it. I might have been a bit…melodramatic. One might also say, I was feeling terrible about myself and I wanted to take that and make it into something good.”

“You don’t need to downplay how you felt,” Geralt said seriously.

“I know.” Jaskier’s twitched into a thin smile that slowly grew warmer as he exhaled. “Buttercups aren’t exactly the most beautiful flowers out there. Or the most useful ones. Or the most resilient. When I was a child, I tried to make a bouquet of buttercups and the petals had fallen off before I could give it to my mother. I don’t remember much, it’s been so long ago, but I do remember that I cried and tossed the stems away. My mother found them and together we planted a little patch of buttercups in the garden, where I could see them from my window. She taught me how to take care of them so they would grow and I loved doing that whenever I was frustrated from my lessons. I have no idea how much time I spent staring at these buttercups every time that I failed at something. When I didn’t understand my lessons on how to become a viscount, when I had an argument with my father, when I felt like I was wilting away in that place.”

A line between his brows had appeared at his first words and deepened as the story went on, but now it smoothed away, as Jaskier rubbed the pendant between his fingers. “I felt like those plucked buttercups. It was only a matter of time before I too would fester like they had. But If I could just find the way to care for myself in the right way, if I found my garden and people who cared for me like my mother and I had for the flowers, I could grow. I thought that though I might still not be very useful, or resilient or…or good enough for anyone to want to keep me around, but maybe I could find someone who would look at me and find comfort in me.”

“You did,” Geralt said, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

Jaskier’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “When I told my mother, she helped me leave Lettenhove and go to Oxenfurt. I know my father wasn’t happy about my going away, but…I think he has accepted that I’d rather be a bard than a viscount. And he knows I’m happier like this. But I don’t know for sure. I haven’t seen them in so long. Only once, since leaving Lettenhove and that was even before the two of us had met.”

“We could visit them, if you wanted.” Geralt shifted his weight a little, as he tried to find the right words. “If you miss your mother, we could meet her. If your parents watched you perform, I’m sure they would be proud of you. I know I am.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip trembled and his grip tightened around the pendant. “I think I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“So. Oxenfurt, Beauclair and Lettenhove. We’re going to have a busy year.”

Jaskier let out a small laugh and his eyes glinted with joy that made that delicate thing in Geralt’s chest glow brighter than the sun.

“Oh, don’t forget that we’ll have to go back to the coast again to tell Essi about everything that happened. And I’ve already promised Lambert and Eskel that we are going to meet up with them again in summer.”

“If you keep making so many plans, they aren’t all going to fit into just one year.”

Jaskier gave him a boyish grin and nudged him playfully with his elbow. “Good thing you’re not going to get rid of me anytime soon, then. We have all the time in the world.”

The notion was so strange, so wonderful. Even after all this time, imagining a future together felt like a dream. Geralt’s words got stuck in his throat and he could do nothing but hum in agreement.  Jaskier understood him even so.

“Well, anyway,” Jaskier gave a mock bow, “that was the glorious tale of the meaning of my name.”

“I like it.” Geralt’s voice was strangely rough. “And I think buttercups are plenty beautiful.”

“Flatterer.” Jaskier let out a snort, but his expression remained soft.

“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Poet, then.”

Geralt let out a groan, that quickly ended in a chuckle. “Now that’s more an insult to you than to me, masterpoet.”

“I don’t think so. You can be quite good with words. Occasionally.” He winked and tilted his head to the side, a glint in his eyes. “Like when you told me what your gifts meant. I assume that there’s meaning to this carving too?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“So what does it mean?” Jaskier asked in a way that made it clear that he knew exactly what it meant.

“What do you think it means?”

Geralt leaned closer to press their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, focussing on Jaskier’s touch, as he played idly with Geralt’s fingers and drew small patterns onto his skin.

Jaskier didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to. Both of them already knew what it meant. They saw it in each other’s eyes when they later sat together with the rest of the wolves, joking and laughing. They felt it in each other’s touch, when Jaskier brushed his side when they were preparing dinner together. They heard it in each other’s voices when Jaskier cheered Geralt on while he sparred with Lambert and Geralt gave snarky commentary just for the sake of Jaskier’s entertainment.

And later, when the keep had quieted down again and they laid in each other’s arms once more, Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier and whispered it in his ear. And Jaskier caressed his cheek gently and whispered it right back.

---

tag list: @persony-pepper @talna-kanin @lookatgeraltmyboi @talkinaboutwhatiknowabout  @ happilymysticalcat   @alllthequeenshorses @ lettherebelovex   @justjess94

[all-together-now]

For the amycule -surge, possibly + kit if you think he can handle it, but According to starlines files, surge has died before, and whatever regeneration he gave her just, brought her back. We know she has a shocking lack of self preservation but are you worried her perceived sense of invincibility, conscious or not, might cause her to veer into suicidal recklessness?

Sorry, I know this is a heavy but I figured ya’ll should think on it. You guys might be the main thing keeping her self preservation instincts intact, cause ya’ll hate it when she gets hurt.

Everyone's mouth was slack in horror. Well, all except for Kit. He just looked away with a heavy look in his eyes.

"Surge has...d-d-died before?" Trip asked, on the verge of tears.

Blaze quickly wrapped her arms around her lizard love for comfort. Honey did the same, but Amy looked over at Kit.

"Kit...i-is that true?"

The fennec sighed heavily.

"Yeah...for what it's worth, she doesn't remember it. Neither of us do...but it still undeniably happened."

Amy held her hands over her gaping mouth.

"Oh...sweet Gaia..."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed all this.

"Sh-Sh-She wouldn't h-hurt herself because of it?" Trip whined, "W-Would she?"

Blaze softly rubber her hands on her back. The princess thought for a moment.

"Surge's self preservation instincts has increased dramatically since she has gotten together with all of us. I remember before she and I became more friendly, she outright attacked me with no regard for herself. But after that squabble...she's never run head first into a battle she couldn't win. She's thinking about how we would take it now, she's thinking about herself now."

She cupped the lizards face and smiled sweetly at her, then the rest of the group.

"Surge is not the same character as she was when that horrible doctor was abusing her. She may not be the most careful all the time, but she's not a reckless lunatic. I think I can say with certainty she will not act suicidal. Not while she has all of us to think about."

Everyone looked over at the purple cat and smiled. Amy and Kit smiled widest of all.

"You're right," Amy said strongly, "And if Surge ever does get herself in danger, which, heh, let's be honest she inevitably will, we'll be there to prove her right! We've got her back, no matter what!"

The others all cheered loudly. From around the corner, Surge leaned against the wall and had her arms crossed. A single tear fell down her cheek as a proud smile crossed her lips.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 10: Memories

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

You woke at the howl of the wind outside. It was still dark out and you glanced at an old wooden clock on the wall; you had only dozed off for an hour or so. It was just two hours past midnight, and though you wanted to return to your dorm room, it was too dangerous to venture outside without the invisibility cloak.

Professor Laufeyson had shifted back onto the pillow in your sleep, and there he slumbered perfectly still but for the rise and fall of his bare chest. He laid on his back with one hand above his head, underneath the pillow. The way his face was so calm made you smile. There was no mask, just a gentle expression.

You lifted yourself off the bed to find the washroom. All the professors had private washrooms in their quarters, so your search ended after a quick dash up the staircase. When you completed your trip, you returned to Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

One passing glance at his desk made you stop. There was a drawer you opened before that intrigued you when you were searching for bandages. You walked over to the desk and your fingers hesitated above the handle. It was not good to snoop and you should be going back to bed. With him. You gulped.

Any sleep that you felt before now evaded you. Your arms and legs felt sore from branches whipping you in the forest. At the time you felt nothing since there was so much adrenaline in your body, but after that your body ached. And amidst the pain, any dreams you remembered from the last hour were filled with bright yellow eyes and bloodstained teeth. A shiver of fear ran down your arms at the thought of the beast. There was no way you could sleep now.

You opened the drawer and once again, an ethereal pool of silver and white faced you. You gazed at it in wonder and crouched over the drawer, trying to get a closer look. For a moment, you thought you saw faces floating in the bowl. As you looked closer still, something pulled your mind into the pool and you were no longer in Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom.

A kitchen faced you, with glossy wooden counters cut from fine lumber and large candles aflame on the countertops. There was Headmistress Frigga, looking years younger, in a yellow dress with her hair down. She paid no attention to you at all, as if you were not there. For a brief second, you wondered if you were back in the book Spells for the Common House Cat. But this felt different...

A young boy sat at the counter. He could not be a day over six, and tapped his hands on the surface excitedly. “Mother, I’m hungry!”

“Just a moment, precious, let me whip you up a nice salted caramel shake, hmm?” She said and twirled her want in a circle. A medium-sized glass, filled to the brim with a brown looking milky liquid, appeared in front of the boy. His black hair shone in the candlelight and his eyes glinted.

Then, another boy, slightly younger than the first, with bright blonde hair, ran into the kitchen. “Mother! Mother! I want a shake too! How come Loki always gets a special drink and not me!”

The boy, Loki, laughed at his brother and took the glass with both hands. “It’s because I’m clearly Mother’s favourite, Thor.”

Frigga turned away from the boys for a moment as they argued, but you saw her expression. It was filled with pain.

Before you could observe any further, you were whisked away into another place.

You were in an empty classroom, and for a second you thought you were back in Hogwarts. But the colour of everything was slightly off, and everything looked hazy. You gasped when Professor Rattowl burst through the door of the classroom and dragged a lanky black-haired boy into the centre of the room.

“Sit down, you scoundrel!” Rattowl said with an awful scowl.

You walked around him to see the boy. His hair was down to his shoulders and incredibly messy, as if he had gotten into a scuffle. It was Professor Laufeyson, though he seemed a year or two younger than you at this moment. His expression was one of youthful arrogance. He threw daggers at Rattowl with a careless sort of glare.

“I clearly won that duel,” Loki said, a smile creeping up on his lips.

Rattowl looked as if he might actually strike him. “You, boy, are a curse to this school! You’ve injured one of our best students with your dark magic! The only thing left of your terrible father’s legacy!”

Loki nearly stood, eyes aflame. “Do not speak of my father with such insolence! Odin is your minister and a hero!”

Rattowl scoffed at Loki. “Are you truly such an imbecile to think that the great Odin Borson is your father?”

“You’re lying!” Loki hissed.

A woman entered the room with a glass full of a brown drink. It looked similar to what you saw previously, but a little more chunky - as if she made it in haste. “Here love, drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Loki eyed the glass. “I don’t want anything.”

The woman and Rattowl looked at each other, and an understanding seemed to pass through them.

“Drink it, boy!” Rattowl yelled. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Loki, whose body thrashed against the chair and then stiffened. Loki emitted the glowing green light from his hands, struggling against the pressure that held him down.

The woman force fed him the drink as he sputtered and coughed, nearly choking. She kept whispering, “I’m sorry, love” as she poured it down his throat. The green light of his magic faltered and eventually fizzled away the more he drank.

You recoiled at the horror of the whole thing and even tried to push the woman away, but your hands merely went through her form.

Rattowl threw a tan handkerchief at Loki when the woman left. “Your so-called father is here. Clean yourself up before you talk to the Minister, boy.”

A couple minutes of silence and solitude passed as Loki sat in the chair, alone. You saw his eyes well up and the most heartbroken expression on his face. Tears stung your own eyes as you felt waves of despair emanate from him.

The door creaked open, and you glanced at the hefty form of Odin arriving. You looked at Loki, who had now wiped away his tears and put on a mask of such stoicism that no one would believe he was nearly sobbing seconds ago.

The door shut with a bang as Odin slowly walked towards Loki. His single eye was shrewd and unfeeling.

“What am I?” Loki said, his eyes were sunken in and red as he slowly stood.

“You’re my son.”

Loki glanced at his hands and though they trembled, he emitted a weak orb of green light that flickered out in seconds. He looked up at Odin, eyes steely. “What more than that?”

Odin paused for several seconds. The silence dragged on. “During the Great Battle, we defeated the Dark One. In the rubble of the castle, we found a child. A small child, left to die. Farbauti’s son.”

“Farbauti...the Dark One’s son.”

“Yes.”

Loki looked at Odin with eyes that were wide and similar to a child that lost its mother at a supermarket; hopeless and frightened. “Why? You were knee deep in the blood of dark wizards. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child.” Odin stood with his chin held high, as if he were the only man in the world that knew the burden of it all.

Loki shook his head. “No, you took me for a purpose. What was it? TELL ME!”

“I took you in to show the wizarding world that mercy was a better path than revenge. There was enough bloodshed, and with you we could prove that dark magic is a choice, not something passed down through blood.” At the last sentence, he looked at Loki squarely in the face, as a warning.

“And you just happened to become Minister of Magic a year later? S-so I was just no more than a tool for your promotion, locked up until you might have more use for me?”

Odin frowned. “Why do you twist my words?”

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.”

“W-what, because I’m the son of the monster that parents tell their children about at night?” Loki said as he staggered back and nearly fell, trying to sit down on the chair. Tears welled up in his eyes and he looked hurt beyond recognition. The pain was raw and unyielding.

However, in a matter of seconds, it dissolved into anger. How quickly he switched to a more comfortable emotion than pain. You looked at Odin, who now clenched his jaw and fists, confirming to you that this habit was something Loki picked up from his father.

“You know it all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never truly love someone with the blood of the Dark One!”

Odin winced and held his chest, beginning to convulse. Loki stopped, anger vanished, and ran to his father who fell to the ground.

“Help! Somebody help!” Loki shouted, tears in his eyes.

Rattowl stormed in and threw Loki aside. “What did you do to him!”

You cried out for Loki and just as soon as you stepped towards the poor teenage boy, now crumpled on the floor, he disappeared in a swirl of blue and grey.

Once again, you were taken away, and then landed in a very unfamiliar place.

It was a room with black tiled floors, walls, and ceilings. There were two large boxes of seats at the end of the room with a tall bench in the middle. In the centre there was a tiny podium surrounded by piles and piles of papers and files on various desks riddled around the room.

Odin sat atop the centre bench, above everything, with a mallet beside him. He looked furious and his visible eye blazed with anger. The centre podium was empty while the surrounding desks and tables were occupied with witches and wizards typing on typewriters and writing in notebooks fervently. The boxes along the side walls were filled with several witches and wizards, all speaking at the same time, whispering and gasping.

“Order! We will have order!” Odin roared, mallet hitting the bench once. The group silenced immediately.

The floor beneath the small podium opened up and there emerged Loki, slightly older and more deranged looking. He rose from a pedestal on the floor, wrapped up in chains from his feet, to his hands, all the way to his neck. The skin under his eyes was purple and bruised looking from lack of sleep; he had a cut on his lip as if someone had punched him; and his clothes were burnt and charred in some spots. He looked a complete mess.

Loki gazed around the room and laughed. His laugh only faltered when he glanced at Frigga near the back. He turned towards to Odin. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Odin looked down at him from the bench. “Do you truly not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is death, destruction and ruin.”

“I went down to the muggle realm to rule - er - manage them as a benevolent god. Just like you.”

“We are not gods, we are born, we live, we die just as muggles do.”

Loki leaned forward. “Give or take a bit of magic.”

“All this because Loki desires power?”

Loki stopped smiling and nearly growled the words. “It is what I was meant for!”

Odin glowered at him. “You were meant to die! As a child, cast out in the ruins of a broken kingdom. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

Loki was silent at Odin’s remark and his mask returned. It was cold as he received the sentence from his father.

“You will be sent to Azkaban for your crimes, Loki Laufeyson, for the disturbance of a muggle gathering; revealing the existence of magic to muggles; endangering muggle lives; and…” Odin paused to take a breath, “for the murder of Ministry auror, Tyr Reyja, with the use of the forbidden killing curse.”

You felt like your head was going to split open. “No more, no more!” you said, clasping your ears.

You were sucked out, and you yelled as it felt as though your mind was being ripped apart.

You slammed back against the wall and fell on the floor as you checked your surroundings. It was Professor Laufeyson’s bedroom, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You shut the drawer with your foot and slowly got up, though your head was swimming. It was similar to the book, but you recalled Heimdall discussing the Pensieve: a well of memories for a wizard to file away for their personal review at their leisure.

A part of you felt ashamed at what you saw, but your heart mostly ached for him. You rose and walked over to the bed. His gentle face reminded you so much of that little boy waiting for his mother to give him a meal. The last thing you saw was the murder sentence. It hung over you like the poisoned tip of a sword. The man you saw now did not seem like a murderer, though he was extremely unpredictable.

You laid beside him, and he stirred at your movements. His eyes slowly opened, and he caught you staring at him. “Should you not be sleeping?” He said dreamily.

“I-I was having nightmares about Fenris.” That’s partially true, you thought guiltily.

“Oh, don’t worry about that shaggy beast,” he closed his eyes and grabbed your waist, dragging you right up against his body. You turned to face away from him as your heart pounded loudly in your chest and he encased your body and wrapped his arm around you, just above your chest. His warm breath blew against the back of your neck and your insides quivered. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, and you felt his lips brush your shoulder as he spoke.

Butterflies flew up your throat, and you stiffened. But being in his arms, and feeling his warm body gripping you, made you feel...surprisingly happy. It was not a feeling you were familiar with, but as your heart raced, you gradually fell asleep and, suffice to say, had much better dreams.

------------------- Post chapter comments

I definitely was going to schedule this for Wednesday but messed something up, so you get it one day earlier! lol. Enjoy ;)

[shinygoku]

Wooo, I played Mega Man 1 (Wily Wars version) in what combined would be a couple of hours, on the Switch today! Here are the most important points:

The Mega Drive soundfont is really naff for a Mega Man game! Everything sounds soft and toothless, there’s no lovely crisp and crunchy sounds of the NES, which are a Large Part of Mega Man’s audio identity!

The sprites for the most part are rather nice, Rock is in good preportions, though in 16 bit his 3 frame running looks a little odd.

The stage backgrounds have a lot more visual layers to them, an effort I like on paper but I’m unsure if they all hit the right vibe in practice. Ice Man’s stage bothers me most, the undiluted Cyan of the old ver brings to mind a tropical paradise that Ice Man used his immense power to flash freeze over, whereas here the Palm Trees are under a dreary winter sky so it doesn’t have the dope juxtaposition. Cut Man’s “Abadoned Warehouse” theme is pretty solid, though it’s a bit shadowy for my own spin on his working environment lol

No Select Pause :(

No teleporting with ladders either :(

The Magnet Beam doesn’t work as well as it did in the NES ver, and the visuals make it look like Cat Poo (but blue and glowing)

Cut Man has been massively buffed in this game, and I always pick him first (Cause he’s My Favourite 🧡) but his was a very tricky fight cause, while he still fliches upon being hit, he no longer takes increased damage from the Rockbuster, while being very nimble and having a boomeranging projectile.

This is a good point to say that yeah, I used Rewinds lmao. They got me through many tight moments and vastly improved Gaming Experience in things like Mario 2 [Lost Levels], getting 100% on Yoshi’s Island, and doing this run deathless B3

I had minimal rewinding on the Yellow Devil fight, though. Dodging his blobs felt a lot easier to memorise and the hitbox was a little more generous (note: When I play NES ports I always use the Select Trick lol)

I beat Copy Robot very slowly, with 1 or 2 Rockbuster shots, then switching to Super Arm for a breather as Copy went into a good position. I forget if there’s a better way to cheese it, I know he only acts in like 3 positions unless you go in all guns blazing though.

The uhh.... Bubble Boss thing was done by me nearly dying while using the Rolling Cutter and then using all the Guts Blocks in what I hoped were the last 4 Bubbles. It may’ve been last 5 Bubbles, but I managed to get very lucky in hitting 1 and another coming out of the gate at the same time B3

Then the last level which I love for the Aesthetics, though I found the hardest part was the brief section with the Yasachi (that’s the word, right?) cause the lift didn’t load in until I Magnet Beamed, then I kept slipping at the jump part lol

I’ll be playing the MM2 and 3 sections of Wily Wars soon, though hOof, both them games have mega stupid BS sections. I’m still a Big MM1 Lover, you know! But I do wanna try the Wily Tower out, so sacrifices must be made -w-;