#some minor burns but otherwise nobody was hurt

[iapislazuli]

Guys I’m going to be so bare naked ass honest with you we had a house fire tonight and I was standing in the kitchen with the flaming stove reading the Wikipedia page for fire

[abrcmswrld]

Pigeon

Jay | Okja x Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 5,358

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), mentions of animal abuse, violence, slight angst just cause pining ya know

Summary: Reader makes a mistake on a mission, prompting a series of events that would only bring them and Jay closer.

Authors Note: I love Jay with everything in my being, so I had to finish this. It has sat half finished in my drafts since April of 2022. I am delighted to have finished it FINALLY. I hope you enjoy!

Ao3 Link

1.

"You could've been killed!" He is pacing the room, eyes never meeting yours. You've never seen him in this manner, panicked and uneasy. Jay was always the mellow one, the one who kept it together even when punishing members for their ignorance, and yet he has dragged you into the privacy of his bedroom to lecture you frantically.

"Jay, I am fine! Nobody else was hurt and bruises heal." Nervous giggles are slipping out between words. You're torn between the anxiety that comes with his erratic behavior and the urge to laugh in his face at the attitude he is giving you over a matter that otherwise seems minor in comparison to what could have happened. He stops his pacing and sets a fiery gaze onto you. It causes you to stumble over your words for a moment, but quickly fills you with anger at the fact that he was treating you like a helpless child.

"I am not your child. You're being ridiculous!"

"You failed to follow the mission that was planned for you and you got hurt. Your blatant defiance could've gotten yourself or others killed." You can tell he is trying to keep his usual composure and by the book language, but the nerves and anger are slipping through the cracks in his tone.

You scoff. "Jay, I knew what I was signing up for when I joined the group. Things won't always go according to plan."

"You're supposed to follow the mission exactly how we planned that way things are within our control and nobody gets hurt! What don't you understand about that? I mean you do you think that your teammates signed up to get killed because you didn't think the plan was enough? If something more would've happened that would've been on you!" He's red in the face, but you see the pang of regret that washes over his face as the words leave his mouth. His gaze falls to the floor, dark strands of hair falling into his face. He shuts his eyes and sighs. Your heart falls to your stomach.

"You know what, I don't have to sit here and listen to you lecture me. If you want me gone then just tell me that. Dismiss Me. I don't care, Jay."

You nudge his shoulder as you push past him, only to be caught by his hand grabbing your wrist. The flames of anger begin to rise more and you instinctively jerk out of his grip, meeting his eyes once more. They have softened from their harsh gaze moments before. He's turned around and stepped closer to you, practically towering over you. "I don't want you to leave. I'm sorry." He sighs.

"I just care about your safety."

You swallow hard, taking in his words. Vulnerable. For once an encounter with Jay felt vulnerable, and the feeling is addicting. The tension in the room is so tight it feels like it could snap at any moment. You're not sure if its an awkward tension that naturally arises after a typical fight or if it has something to do with the feeling of electricity in your chest that you're trying so damn hard to ignore. His hand lightly lands on the side of your arm, and- fuck- the electricity is starting to burn. Your eyes travel over his face, but quickly move back to his eyes.

"I appreciate that."

You pull away from his grasp and close the door behind you as you walk out.

2.

It had been a tense few days to say the least. Struck by one of those missions that took time, aching long days, for updates. The group scrambled to find distractions from the stress and worry. Red had suggested nightly games of cards to try to take off some of the edge that came with the jobs.

So it became a routine for the coming days. The group would gather around a small table in a cramped living room of the Airbnb that Jay had arranged for everyone to stay in. Jay would join the game for about ten minutes each night, trying to be the strong and relaxed leader for his crew. Yet, each night he would quickly slip away into his room after the first couple of rounds. Tonight he had left the table early on stating that he was tired. You watched as he made his way to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

Tired. Everyone is tired. You cleared your throat before standing. "Alright guys, I think I'm gonna run to the restroom. Start the next round without me." You walked to the end of the hallway where Jay's door and the bathroom door faced each other. You could see that his door was not fully shut, only cracked, and light still shined through the cracks.

You stepped towards his door, laying a single hand on the knob before hesitating. Maybe you shouldn't.

Was he still mad at you? Would he be even more mad if you had entered his space uninvited? Why did you even feel the urge to enter anyway?

Fuck it. The most he could do was lecture you as he had a few days prior. Or dismiss you from the group. You'd take your chances. Despite your hesitation you push the door open only enough to peek inside. He's facing away from the doorway sitting at a desk. You choose to knock on the doorframe, alerting him of your presence. He quickly turns his chair to see who was there before waving for you to enter.

"Hey." You're stood awkwardly, waiting for a reply from him. He closes the laptop he had been focused on before you entered. "Hi. Do you need something?" You shift your weight from one foot to the other. "No. I just- Uh, you just said you were tired, but you're not in bed." You internally scold yourself for stumbling on your words so terribly. He cocks his head in confusion.

"I know it's been a rough week. I guess I shouldn't really question why you're not in bed. It's been pretty hard for me to sleep too." You're not lying. You'd laid in bed every night wishing, praying to a god you weren't even sure you believed in, that you could just get a night of good sleep. Your prayers hadn't been answered. He simply nods. Suddenly the air is thick and uncomfortable. It seems like he is just waiting for you to leave. Maybe you should. Why haven't you?

"Are you still pissed at me?"

He sighs and stands from his chair. "No." Then he's closing the distance between the two of you. Your heart is racing. But he simply reaches behind you. "Do you mind if I-" You realize he is trying to shut the door that you had left ajar. "Oh! Yeah. Sorry." Your face is burning. There's no doubt he can see the way the blood has rushed to your face. You shift to the side slightly, allowing him access to the door. "I just don't like for the others to hear these sorts of conversations if I can help it." You shyly nod. He gives a small smile and you feel the way the gesture makes your body feel loosened.

"I'm sorry for the way that I acted a couple of days ago. I shouldn't have let myself get that worked up. It's my responsibility as a leader to keep it together for you guys and I failed that night." It feels good to hear the apology from him. Sure your feelings were hurt. Hurt in the same way it hurts for a parental figure to point out that they are disappointed, not mad. But deep down you knew he meant well, and it felt wrong to leave him to be the only one apologizing. "I'm sorry too. It's also your job as a leader to hold us accountable, so I understand. I didn't mean to act stupid." He smiles. "I suppose there's no way of taking it back for either of us now, so lets call it even." It makes you chuckle. "Thanks."

An awkward silence fills the room before you speak up. "How are you holding up? I mean- It's just been pretty rough for everyone I guess." He places a hand on your shoulder. "I am holding up, and I don't want you up worrying about me. You should get some rest, or at least attempt to have a good time with the others out there." You shook your head. "Cards aren't really my thing. And sleeping hasn't been that great lately either." You meet his slightly concerned gaze. "Talking to you kind of sounds like the best option for me here." You chuckle and shake your head, immediately embarrassed at the words that had just come out of your mouth. Why did you just say that? It must be obvious as he tips your head back up to face him with two fingers under your chin. "It's okay. We can talk." Damn it. That spark in your chest is back.

He is leaning over you so close. Though the fingers have left their place under your chin, you feel your skin burn where they once were. You can smell his cologne so strongly when you're this close. You never really noticed before, then again you kept your distance on purpose. He's your superior. You probably shouldn't be doing this. You can't help but embrace him.

Your face is pressed into his chest. His arms hesitate for a moment before finding their place on your back. The feeling you get is so bittersweet. You've never properly hugged Jay, and you doubt any of the others had either. He's naturally reserved person. In this moment you want nothing more than to peel back his layers. To know what he thinks when he's alone with his thoughts. To know what he thinks when he's alone with you.

You pull away from his embrace, but keep your body pressed close to his. You meet his gaze. He staring down at you, quiet. Neither of you say a word. Your hands have found their way to the back of his neck, twiddling the hairs that curl onto it. Your lips are so close. You can feel his breath on your face. Every part of your brain is yelling at you to stop the interaction. Jay would for sure call it inappropriate. But you found yourself listening to the burning in your heart and stomach as you close the gap between your lips.

It's chaste. You pull back slowly looking at his expression to gage what should happen next. His eyes are half lidded and his mouth sits slightly agape. You feel a sort of fear settle in the pit of your stomach as he does and says nothing. Had you crossed a line that never should've been crossed? But you're swiftly pulled out of the fog of worry by his lips meeting yours once again. He's pressing you closer with a hand on the middle of your back.

You feel like you’re high. Something about the swipe of his tongue across yours is incredibly intoxicating. He tastes oddly sweet. You can't help but feel the urge to taste other parts of him. Suddenly he's walking you backwards until the backs of your legs hit the desk he was previously sat at. It's effortless as he hoists you to sit atop the surface of the desk. He pulls away long enough to meet your eyes. You've seen his eyes when he is relaxed and soft. You've also seen his eyes when he is angry and provoked, but this look is new. It only lasts a split second, but you can see the lust practically dripping from his eyes. It's almost like looking at a wild, hungry animal, starved for food so long that they are willing to do anything for it. It makes the blood pool into your lower half.

The feeling of his teeth grazing your neck is enough to knock a pitiful moan from your throat. You've thrown your head back, hoping to give him more access. You can't help but tangle your fingers into his dark locks, occasionally pulling to hear a low groan from him. His fingers are slowly traveling up your thighs and you're getting antsy. You're so caught up, the only thing on your mind is Jay and the word 'more.' God you need more more more. His hand slides up your thigh and you're a goner when the heel of his palm digs into your core. Your mouth is pressed just next to his ear. You must sound pathetic as you whine his name.

The sound of footsteps down the hall pulls the two of you from the haze. Jay's hands are off of you in a flash as he jumps back, putting significant space between the two of you. You're both practically panting. The only sound in the room is your breathing. The footsteps must have led to the bathroom across the hall, as Jay's room is left unbothered. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh of exasperation. "Um... I'm sorry. That was..." You trail off.

You hop off the desk and walk past him, laying a hand on the doorknob.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

You walk out of his room and straight to your own. Red eyes you as you walk quickly past the card table. You're sure you'd hear about it later. You immediately shut the door behind you and take a seat on the floor in front of it.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

3.

Just as you expected, Red is curious the next day.

"Are you okay?"

You're finding it hard to focus on anything. Which is never good in times like the present. You had a job to do and Jay was your leader. It was an inappropriate situation, but what bugged you the most was how seemingly focused and normal Jay had been acting. You turn your attention to Red. "I'm fine. Just watched a video of kitten being used as dog fight bait the other night, how could I not be?" She rolls her eyes. "You never came back last night, and then when you did you looked spooked."

You sigh. Geez...were you that obvious? "I had to talk to Jay about the mission situation, and it's just not particularly easy to talk to him. You know that." She hesitates for a moment as if thinking of what to say. "But you're okay? I'm not gonna have to watch him beat you up too?" You can't help but laugh a little at her comment. K certainly wouldn't approve, but what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. "Everything is fine, Red."

You only lied a little. But it's not like she's never lied to you. Your gaze falls to Jay for a moment. He's dressed more casual than usual, slacks and a white t-shirt. It's nice to see him relaxed.

He's explaining something to Blonde. Something about pinpointing a location. He's pointing out something on paper, maybe a map. As if it's some sick intrusive thought, you think about where his hands had been the previous night. You can still feel the burn of his hand making its way up your thigh. He starts to look up at you. You quickly pull your eyes off of him and turn to busy yourself with something, anything. You're fucked.

4.

You find yourself at Jay's door once again. Blonde had successfully got an update from an insider about the dog fighting ring the group had been watching. The group was set to deploy a rescue mission in the coming days. Who knows what could happen? Ideally everything goes exactly according to the plan. Some animals are rescued, the entire crew makes it out, and nobody is seriously injured. But it's your first mission after the incident that caused Jay's initial lecture, and you've found yourself a little nervous to be back in action.

You weren't getting any sleep at the moment. You'd all gone to bed early in hopes of being well rested, but instead you had laid in bed for a little over an hour with no sign of sleep in the near future. So you made your way to Jay. You'd be lying if you said that he had nothing to do with the reason you were losing sleep. The thought of his lips on yours is sweet but startling. You knock on his door before entering.

For once Jay is sitting in bed. He's awake. You knew he would be, because you know Jay. Even as he keeps his distance from everyone, you catch yourself picking up on his quirks over time. He's changed out of his slacks and now sports some tattered pajama pants. It's different and cute. You slowly shut the door behind you.

"Can't sleep?"

You take a seat on the edge of the bed. "I guess you could say the nerves are getting to me." He hesitates for a second. "But I am supposed to step up as your leader and encourage you. Everything will be fine. We have tackled much bigger things." You sigh. You hated knowing that you're the one causing the nerves tonight. It's never easy getting back into the swing of things after a failed mission, but being the one who caused the failure feels even worse. He's doing what he always does. He's putting his job above how he really feels, he never lets himself feel anything. If he's nervous he will tell the group that he's never been more confident. But you knew better.

"You don't always have to hide the way that you feel. It's okay to be nervous, Jay."

You lay a hand on his arm, much like he had done to you when he apologized for his anger. He's being distant. He almost looks worried to have your hand on his arm. You slowly withdraw. Maybe it was time to pretend about your own feelings. Hypocrite.

"You know- if you're feeling weird about the kiss it's okay. It was my choice and I'm sorry. It was probably way out of line-" He cuts you off. "It was." Although his tone isn't harsh, his words still sting. So he really had regretted it. You stepped over the line. Sure he participated but if you hadn't have started it-

"But I feel good when I think about it."

You can't stop staring at him. Frozen. "What?" He shrugs. "It felt good not to have to be Jay the leader and just be Jay. To do stuff I wanted to do without having to think about the consequences." The words light a small fire inside you for some reason. This is the most honest Jay has ever been with you. It's raw and it's nice. "I'm glad I could help... ease your mind."

He smiles softly and lays a hand on your lower leg that you've pulled up onto the bed. "I'm really nervous about tomorrow, Jay. I know you just said it was nice to not be a leader but I have to let you know I feel uneasy. I don't even know if I'm saying that because I'm looking for advice-" You look up at him. "-I think I just feel oddly comforted by your presence."

He scoots closer to you, legs crossed like a child. You can't help but smile. It's so unlike Jay. Jay was serious, classy, guarded. This side of Jay was open and comforting. He grabs your hand, seemingly in an effort to bring you some sense of feeling grounded. "It will work out. I promise."

There's more to be said. The fear in you rises as you face him. His hair is slightly disheveled. It reminds you of the way it looked after you had jumped apart. Messy from your fingers. Your heart is beating so fast. Why did you want to kiss him so bad? Why did he kiss you back? Did he pity you? Would these feelings ruin the mission? Would these feelings ruin your friendship with Jay? Would these feelings ruin you?

You brush a strand of hair off his forehead and sigh. "I think I am afraid of myself. Of this. I don't regret the kiss and, damn it, I think I want to kiss you again, Jay. And that makes me so scared-" You're stunned by two hands cupping the sides of your face. You can only stare, mouth open a bit in shock. He only stares back, not making a move, as if he tossing thoughts around in his head, weighing his options.

His lips are warm and familiar against yours. The butterflies in your stomach almost make you feel sick, but you compose yourself enough to put one hand on his face and one hand on his shoulder. It doesn't feel like it did that previous night. That night had been pure fire and burning lust. The fire has turned into something blossoming in your stomach and up into your lungs. He pulls away, smiling genuinely. "You can stay in here tonight if it'll calm your nerves. We can talk more when we finish what needs to be done."

5.

The ride in the truck to your destination was tense. You look out the window to see nothing by gravel road and trees. Much to Blonde’s dismay you had questioned whether he had the right location at least 5 times, all of which he had responded with a short “I know what I’m doing, Sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes.

You can’t stop the constant bouncing of your leg. You have to do anything to fill the void where your thoughts could leak in. It made you physically ill to think anymore about the possibilities of what could happen in the next hour. You can see Jay in the front seat next to K, who was driving. The sunlight bounced through the trees and hit his face perfectly. Thinking about the night before was the only thing bringing you any peace at all in your current situation.

His body pressed up against yours. Arm swung over your waist. You had actually gotten some decent sleep. It is still dark in the room, obviously still a few hours out from when you need to be up. You twist your body to face Jay. He’s still asleep, face peacefully relaxed. No furrowed brows or wrinkled skin. He is perfect you think as you brush his hair hair back lightly.

“This is it.” You’re pulled from the memory by Blonde’s voice. As the doors open, there’s…nothing. Just the same trees and dirt road as there was before. “Are you sure this is it? There’s nothing here.” Red questions as soon as her feet hit the dirt ground. “We’ve gotta go through the trees a little ways that way, but we have to stop the truck here or they’ll know we are on ‘em.” Blonde points a finger out into the vast woods.

You lock eyes with Jay. He just nods and steps in front of the group with Blonde as a guide. The woods are damp and humid. It’s not a pleasant trek, but you had definitely experienced worse in your year on the team. It’s quiet, eerily quiet. Just the rustling of your feet against the grass. Until you see it. The barbed wire fence is clear in the distance. You can hear the barking dogs and rustling chain. Jay stops and turns to the group.

“These dogs are trained to fight through drugs and other means. They can be dangerous. Just be careful and follow the plan.”

Your heart hurts at his words as they are a reminder of your fuck up but you don’t have time to dwell on it much as you hear the rustling of grass not far from you and see the flash of a human figure to your left. Fuck. It’s only two men, but they are very clearly armed with deadly weapons. Jay turns to face them, bold and brave as always. “Listen, we are-“

“We don’t care who you are, you’re trespassing.”

Jay stays silent only for a moment, holding his hands out in front of him in a sign of peace, before speaking softly, “Red, go.” And with that Red is zipping past the men and jumping the fence. Blonde and Silver are easily able to take down one of the men, leaving the other to go for Jay who is standing directly in front of him. You can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as Jay is knocked to the ground. You hesitate before deciding to engage.

Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up.

You’re able to the man off guard for only a split second before the man throws his elbow back. And suddenly everything is black.

There’s a slight ringing in your ears the next time you open your eyes, but you can tell that someone is carrying you. You let yourself slip out of consciousness once more.

“Can you hear me? Open your eyes!”

You can hear the voice before you open your eyes, and suddenly you’re taken back to New York.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You’re watching from the van as Jay is ambushed by the Black Chalk. You’re trying not to hyperventilate and pass out. Of all the missions that have ended with law enforcement intervention, you have never seen one end this poorly.

Jay is knocked to the ground and you can see the little bits of blood seeping through his white shirt and dripping from his head. They are unrelenting, like a hoard of crows circling and gathering around a dead animal. You try to shake that thought from your head.

“K… K! We have to do something! We have to do something right now, they are gonna kill him!”

And for a moment it feels like you’ve blacked out, but you can remember what you are doing. You’ve just placed your self on autopilot. You’ve tuned out everyone as soon as Jay’s back hit the floor of the truck’s trailer. You’re climbing over him and immediately work at the buttons on his soiled shirt. You don’t even realize that there are tears flowing from your eyes until you start to see the small damp spots begin to leave marks next to the blood that has already stained.

You cradle his head, not caring about the blood that is seeping under your fingernails. “Jay, can you look at me?” His eyes are still closed but you swear you can see a small flutter of his lashes. “Can you hear me? Please open your eyes.” His eyes slowly peel open. He’s looking directly at you and you’ve never felt more relief in your entire life. You gently lay your forehead on his chest.

“Thank God.”

You open your eyes. You can tell you’re in the back of the van. You practically shoot up and that’s when the pain sets in. You hold the side of your head. “Ah shit.”

“You can lay back down.” You turn your head to see Jay at your side. He’s got a scrape on his cheek, but otherwise looks to be intact. You sigh. “Are you okay?” He smiles and nods. You don’t lay down, but turn to face him fully. “Did I fuck it up again?” He places a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head.

“Red got the evidence we needed, and everyone made it out. You got hit pretty hard. You probably have a concussion, so I’ll be be staying with you these next couple of nights.”

You immediately glance forwards at Red who is raising an eyebrow from the front seat. Your cheeks burn as you lay your head back in Jay’s lap for the remainder of the ride home.

6.

Jay does as he said he would and stays with you in the nights. You’ve slept in his bed for the past four nights. Though you realize that it has probably been long enough that you could move back into your room, you don’t want to stop. Jay’s warmth at night has you sleeping better than you have in years. So here you are on your fifth night in Jay’s bed, watching as he strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed with you. It’s starting to feel very domestic the way he bares his skin to you even though you’ve never actually had sex. It still brings a flutter to your abdomen. But in a way you start to feel like you’re taking advantage of him.

“You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I think I’ll be fine on my own.”

He looks at you for a moment, slightly concerned. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” You shake your head. “No, it’s not that, I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” He smiles and places a hand on your jaw. “I enjoy your company. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t got used to you being here every night.” He kisses you for the first time since the night before you’d gotten hurt, and you immediately melt into it. You missed the feeling it gives you. He breaks apart from you just to say, “Why don’t you just stay with me all of the time?” It lights a fire in your stomach.

Before you can stop to think, you are moving to straddle his hips. He gasps slightly, you’ve always been the inferior, he’s always been the one in charge, but you’re the one towering over him now. “I want you.” You can feel the way that his hip buck slightly at your words. “And I’m not just talking about sex. I’m talking about everyday, all of the time.” He just stares up at you, letting you speak.

“You can be the boss during the day, but I want you to come home and just be you at the end of the day.” You roll your hips. “Not Jay the leader or boss or organizer or anything like that. Just Jay.” He looks in absolute awe, a look you’ve never seen from him. For once, he has nothing to say, just slips a hand past your waistband and applies delicious pressure to your core. You swallow the moan that forms in your throat. The last thing you need is to have Red or Silver prying into your sex life in the morning, especially when Jay is involved.

“And if I wanna be the boss at night?” He says it teasingly, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Okay fine, but only sometimes.” You wrap a hand around him under his boxers and he groans. It feels good to be this intimate with someone, especially Jay. So you let yourself go, match his pace, and don’t stop until you’re both soaring over the edge, foreheads pressed together.

You take time to clean each other up and get comfortable back in bed before anyone can ask any questions about what you may have been doing. You lay your head on his chest. You’re so relaxed and everything feels so right for once in your life.

“I thought I was gonna lose you in New York.” It’s random, but the entire experience in the past week sent you soaring back into that headspace. “K probably thought I was crazy or hysterical. I’d never seen you so hurt, and I thought that was it. I think that’s when I knew.” He hugs you closer and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I remember you holding the back of my head, I thought that I was dead. I don’t even really know what I believe happens after death, I guess I was just relieved that wherever I was at the time, you were there.”

You smile, content, and throw an arm over his waist.

“Glad we both made it.”

[takamimami]

Perfectly Misaligned

Chapter 4 - The Point of No Return

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Pairing: Eustass "Captain" Kidd x OC (Morrigan, The Phantom)

Chapter Tracklist:

Nobody’s Home - Avril Lavigne

Glitter in the Air - P!NK

Swimming Home - Evanescence

CW: minor depictions of violence, references to Morrigan's childhood trauma, minor character death, suggestive conversation about Mor's v-card, Kidd being Kidd --- word count: 3.6k

NSFW; Explicit Language/Themes - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

A cool breeze blew my hair forward and into my face, obscuring my vision for a moment as I stared up into the starlit sky. My eyes were puffy and swollen from the crying I’d done, still trying to process the flurry of emotions inside me as I felt the familiar burning of tears sting them again. 

I’d found my way up onto the roof of the cabin, needing time and space to myself after my interrogation from Kidd earlier. 

I’d expected him to refuse to let me come with them to the New World - Kidd didn’t like being told what to do, and, unfortunately for me, I seemed to rub him the wrong way just by breathing. But I’d expected Killer to be able to convince him like he usually did, and hearing the way he argued with Killer inside the room earlier—I wasn’t too sure he could be persuaded otherwise.

Definitely not tonight, which is why I secluded myself on the roof, a blanket wrapped around my shoulder and a candle between my legs—the flames dancing in the breeze as the candle threatened to go out altogether.

I closed my eyes as the breeze picked up again, and let my mind wander back to the place I’d called home just short of a year ago. 

~

A chill ran up my spine as I stood in the center of the crowded room, everyone’s eyes focused on my little sister, Celeste, as she opened presents for what would have been her 16th birthday.

Everyone was gathered in the entertainment hall of the palace, the place that once housed pictures of all four members of our family now missing one face amongst the frames. No one’s eyes faltered as I walked over to the banister where my sister’s portrait hung, my matching one missing and the pictures shifted around as if it had never been there at all.

All trace of me gone from the place I’d once called home, the ghost of me lingering as I watched my father and stepmother’s faces light up as my sister held up a ruby necklace she’d pulled from the gift bag. 

I dragged my feet as I walked to the center of the room again, blinking once as the room fell silent– all previous occupants vanished and the room lights dimmed. 

I twirled my head around to find myself alone in the hall, my eyes darting around the room until they landed on a frail body standing a few feet away from me, her face covered in shadows as she faced me.

My knees nearly buckle as I look my mother up and down, lip quivering as I struggle to find my voice to call out to her. I reach out my hand and open my mouth when a gunshot rings out through the empty room, my mother’s body slumping to the floor as blood begins to pool around her. 

My throat constricts as I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Tears blur my vision as I will my legs to carry me forward, but as I approach my mother’s body I’m halted with fear as my father stands over her lifeless body, eyes piercing into mine as he stares me down– my mouth growing dry as I feel a hand grab my shoulder.

“Hey…”

~

“Hey! Squeak! Snap out of it!”

I rubbed my eyes roughly with the backs of my hands as I felt Killer’s tight grip on my shoulders, blinking away tears as I came back to reality.

Tendrils of dark shadows swirled in the air around both of us, some of them swirling around his arms as they gripped my shoulders and caused me to pull away from him. I scooted along the roof as I created some distance between us, forcing my shadows to vanish as I tried to center my breathing.

“D-did that hurt?” I stuttered after a few moments of silence, my eyes trained on his forearms where I had seen the shadows dancing over his skin.

“I’ve been through worse,” he admits, rubbing a hand over his arm as he scoots closer to me. “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering I reached for the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, turning my gaze down to the candle that must have tipped over at some point during my nightmare, luckily not set the entire roof on fire. I breathed a sigh of relief as I shifted toward it, picking at the dried wax that had spilled onto the roof tiles as flashes of my dreams crept back into my mind.

I let the silence answer for me as Killer kept his gaze in my direction, pulling my gaze from the flakes of dried wax and peering into the night sky. Stars scattered across the vast expanse of darkness, twinkling in the moonlight as if someone took a fist full of glitter and launched it into the air.

“You spoke of the angels and archangels earlier,” I started, desperate for something to distract me from the face of my mother plaguing my mind. “I thought all angels were supposed to be ‘good’... why would any of them have powers like mine?”

Killer shifts closer to me, eyes still locked on me as he speaks. 

“Archangels were the more powerful of their kind, and were usually responsible for maintaining the balance between good and evil - meaning they often mastered the powers of both.”

I nodded as I processed the information, finding myself impressed by Killer’s seemingly endless knowledge. 

I turn my head and meet his gaze, a small smile curling up on my lips as I shift closer to him. “Fucking nerd,” I say teasingly, giggling lightly as I look back up towards the stars. 

“Maybe there is hope for me, then.” 

I lift my hand and stare at it for a moment, feeling the power surging just below my skin. I let out a deep breath and let the darkness swirling inside me manifest itself in the air between Killer and me. 

We both watch the tendrils swirl and snake through the air and along the roof tiles, Killer not flinching as the shadows wrap around his forearm. I drop my hand and the shadows dissipate, but Killer flicks his head back to me as they disappear.

“Do it again.”

I eye him wearily, his request making the hair on my arms stand as I imagine the soldiers I’d incapacitated. But I lifted my hand again, the tendrils dancing over to him again, this time snaking further up his arm as I watched him cautiously.

My pulse roared in my veins as I watched Killer’s arm tense as if he were actively fighting against the darkness trying to consume him. I hear him let out a grunt as he imbues his arm with his Armament Haki, his shoulders relaxing slightly once he is able to successfully shield his skin from my shadows.

I drop my hand a moment later, breathing slightly labored from the exertion, my eyes still trained on Killer’s arm as he drops his defenses.

“What does it feel like?” I ask quietly, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Killer flexes his hand, then his elbow, and I watch the rippling muscles contract as he ponders how to respond.

“It felt like something was sucking up my strength, preventing me from fully exerting my Haki,” he starts, chuckling a bit as he rolls his shoulder. “I’d hate to see what you could do to someone with better control over those things.”

I grimaced at the comment, but before I could reply something pulled my attention to the trees in the distance. My head snaps in that direction, and Killer shifts as he sees my body tense from the disturbance.

“Wha-”

“Someone’s coming,” I cut him off, my eyes still locked on the trees. Killer seemed to sense the same presence a heartbeat later, but I had already turned and began climbing back up the roof and into the window I’d climbed out of previously. 

Once inside, I shuffled through the dark room in search of the light switch, feeling along the wall until I found it and flicked on the lights.

A groan startled me, the body sleeping in the bed shifting as the muscled frame sat up in the bed, tousled red hair covering his face as he rubbed at his eyes.

“The fuck are you doing?!”

Kidd’s voice echoes off the walls, a scowl immediately forming on my face as he looks over me.

“Someone is coming,” I said flatly as Killer climbed in through the window. Kidd’s brow furrowed as he looked between the two of us.

“It’s Hawkins,” Killer says calmly, and Kidd rolls his eyes as he pulls the blankets off himself and shuffles off the bed. My eyes trace over his toned body, watching his muscles ripple and flex as he tugs on his pants and lets them hang loosely on his hips. 

Kidd’s head flicks in my direction, a smirk flicking onto his lips as he catches where my stare is lingering. I feel heat prickling at my cheeks as I shift my gaze over to Killer, and Kidd mirrors my movements as Killer crosses the room and grabs for the door. 

I take a step to follow him through it and feel a tug at my arm, looking back to see Kidd’s hand wrapped around my wrist.

“Stay here,” he commands, pulling me back into the room as he pushes past me and out into the hallway. 

“No,” I bite back sharply, shoulders straightening as I resume my stride and follow him out into the hallway. 

He brings a hand to rub at his temples as he turns to face me, sticking an arm out to stop me from pushing past him.

“I said,” he glares, eyes dimming a shade, “ Stay here. ”

His touch is firm as I press against his arm, eyes staring up into him defiantly as I try to press past him. His arm tenses as I try to take another step, grunting as he pushes against me and causes my step to falter. 

“For someone who wants to join my crew, you sure don’t know how to listen to fucking orders,” he grumbles, turning to walk further down the hall. 

“I didn’t ask to join your crew,” I snap back, following a few strides behind him, “I asked you to take me to the New World, not to be my captain.”

Kidd stills at my words, his hand squeezing the railing of the stairs as he turns to glare at me from over his shoulder.

Killer glances in our direction from the bottom of the stairs, sensing the tension as his eyes move between the two of us.

I stop just out of arm's length from Kidd, not faltering as he turns to face me again. Eyes closed and brows bunched in frustration, he lets out a deep sigh before glancing my way, a glimmer of something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place.

“ Fine, ” he said exasperatedly, shoulders slumping slightly as he took a step closer to me. “I will consider taking you with us, Morrigan, if you just listen to me this one fucking time.”

I shuddered as my name fell from his lips, loosening my fists that I hadn’t realized were balled at my sides. His brows were still knit together as he watched my tension lessen, a weary gaze cast his way as I wondered why he was so insistent on my absence from this conversation.

“Fine,” I breathed, and both Kidd and Killer sighed in unison as a knock on the door drew the attention of all three of us. Kidd hurriedly glided down the stairs, casting me a warning glance as he reached the bottom. 

I turned and made my way back to the room, lingering in the doorway as the front door creaked open and unfamiliar voices mixed with those of Kidd and Killer’s briefly before the door shut.

Just as I was shifting on my feet I heard a door from down the hall swing open, and I peeked my head back out to see two tall figures sauntering down the hall toward me.

“I knew we heard your voice,” one of them crooned, and I couldn’t help the smile that curled onto my lips as Wire and Heat stepped out from the shadows of the hall, the latter’s arms outstretched toward me as I gladly let him pull me into an embrace.

The faint smell of ash tickles my nose as I smile into the warm hug, Wire staring at me blankly as I pull away from Heat and lean in his direction. He barely moves as I pull him into a side hug, and Heat leans over the railing of the staircase as he looks for whom I assume are Killer and Kidd. 

“We were trying to figure out who the Boss was arguing with,” he muses, cracking a smile as he nods in my direction, “Now it makes sense”.

“We were not arguing,” I said stubbornly, recalling the way Kidd’s eyes had softened when he made his bargain with me. It almost seemed like there was concern hidden behind them – his amber eyes flashing into my mind as I tried to understand the sudden shift in his emotion.

“Of course, you weren’t,” Wire cuts in, tone unamused as he pulls me from my recollection, “You and the Boss are always so agreeable ”.

The dry sarcasm in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Heat or me, and I rolled my eyes as I switched my attention back to Heat.

“It’s good to see you guys,” I smile warmly, the tall man before me grinning as he extends a hand out to rest on my shoulder.

“It’s good to see you too, Mor,” he sighs, “Though, I have to admit, I didn’t think our paths would ever cross again.”

I grimaced at the notion, Heat’s hand dropping from my shoulder as he offered me a sympathetic look.

“It’s…. A long story,” I groan, running my fingers through my hair as I puff out a deep sigh. 

I turned my head and gazed down the stairs, not ready to hash out the details with them quite yet. They both take the hint and shuffle past me, descending the staircase without another word.

Before they can reach the bottom the sound of the front door swinging open halts them, and the sudden slam of the door has me gripping the railing as Kidd stomps back into the cabin, a scowl etched on his face as he turns the corner to find Heat and Wire looking at him from the steps.

“What’s up, Boss?” Wire asks, though his face is emotionless as he looks over his captain.

Kidd grunts, disappearing into the kitchen without another glance in any of our directions. Killer sighs a deep breath before walking after Kidd, motioning for Wire and Heat to follow.

My curiosity had me halfway down the stairs before the kitchen door closed, and without considering Kidd’s previous hesitations I pulled open the handle to find Kidd throwing back a bottle of booze.

Killer snaps his neck over to me while Heat and Wire keep their eyes on Kidd, and something about Killer’s body language has me lingering in the doorway.

Sure enough, Kidd’s gaze lands on me as he brings the bottle from his lips, and his brows furrow, looking me up and down and setting the bottle on the table before stepping toward me.

“What did Hawkins want?” Heat asks insistently, but Kidd continues approaching me, only stopping once he is towering over me. His arm extended out and held the door I still propped open with my foot, and his eyes flick through the doorway before falling back down to me.

“I got business to discuss with my crew,” he grumbles, leaning closer to me as if to usher me out of the kitchen.

“What the hell is so important that you can’t tell them with me present?” I press, holding my ground and not backing away from my position in the doorway.

Kidd’s eye twitches – a movement that I almost miss – and he braces his arm on the door harder before leaning down closer to me, the smell of whiskey coating his breath as his breath tickles my face.

“I don’t discuss anything pertaining to my crew with outsiders ,” he nearly growls, as if the term were supposed to be an insult. “Last time I checked, you didn’t want any part of my crew, so how about you run along and get some sleep, Princess.”

The command in his tone nearly made my knees wobble, and I kissed my teeth before turning around, no longer interested in playing this game with him.

I make my way back up to the room, stomping my feet up the stairs dramatically before slamming the door hard enough for everyone in the cabin to hear. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears as I sank into the mattress, trying to tune out Kidd’s voice that now rang through my head.

“ So how about you run along and get some sleep, Princess.”

“Princess.”

The condescension in his tone alone as he spat that nickname at me was enough to set my blood on fire. 

Forcing my eyes shut, I try to shove the insufferable redhead to the back of my mind, but it only serves the opposite purpose as my mind races.

~

Kidd’s arms rested on the railing on either side of me, his neck craned to look down at me as I felt my chest tighten from his proximity.

“C’mon, Princess ,” he crooned, the gods forsake nickname dripping with honey as he brought his lips closer to mine, “We both know that kiss wasn’t the accident you claimed it to be.”

He and I had been drunk the night prior, the rest of the crew already retired to their respective quarters as he listened to me prattle on and on about stars and constellations. When I was done he’d walked across the deck with me toward one of the spare rooms beneath the helm, and in a drunken haze, I’d decided it would be a good idea to kiss the moron after he’d offered me one too many flirtatious compliments.

“Kidd,” I groaned, pushing a hand against his chest half-heartedly, “I was drunk and so were you, let's not make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

He snickers at my claim, allowing me to push him away as he backs up a few steps. He eyes me up and down before tucking a hand in his pocket, the other hand reaching up to rub at his chin.

“You a virgin, Princess?”

My cheeks heated at the question, my silence damning me as my lips tremble.

Kidd nods his head, smirking as he tucks his other hand into his pocket and takes a step closer to me. I feel my shoulders sag under his gaze, my back pressing against the railing as he resumes his previous position.

“I’d be gentle with you,” he rasped, voice thick as he dropped his head to my ear. “To start with, at least.”

“Are you still drunk?” I manage to whisper, feeling his arm snake around my waist and pulling my body closer to his.

He must have heard my breath catch in my throat because I can hear his smirk in his next words.

“It wasn’t the alcohol talking for me, Princess. I’ve thought about getting you in my bed since the first time you called me a ‘filthy pirate’.”

‘I’m no one’s plaything, you filthy pirate.’ The first words I’d ever spoken to him.

He had to still be drunk, it was the only explanation for why he was telling me all this. 

I felt my self-consciousness drawing up my defenses as I raised a shaky hand to his chest, pushing harder than I had the first time as I tried desperately to make space between us.

“Enough, Kidd,” I snarl, taking a step back before bearing my teeth to him, “I said it was a mistake .”

That wasn’t the word I’d originally used. ‘Accident’ – that was the word I’d meant, but I lashed out and noted the slight shift in Kidd’s expression, indicating I’d hit my mark.

~

My eyes open and struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room as the sound of voices outside my room pulls me from my sleep. Careful not to make a sound, I slip from the bed and make my way over to the door, leaning my head against it to hear the voices on the other end.

“Just let her sleep, Kidd.”

Killer. 

“Here you go telling me what to do again.” Kidd. “I just want to ask her why she wants to come with us so bad. We’re not a fucking escort service, Kill.”

“That can wait for the morning when you’re sober .”

A disgruntled noise comes from the other end of the door and I hear the doorhandle jiggle. I hold in my sigh of relief at the fact I had remembered to lock it, my pupils dilating as they watch the metal object shake.

Giving up after a few failed shakes, I hear Kidd and Killer’s footsteps disappear down the hall, and I silently creep back into the bed at the sound of a door closing.

I toss and turn for a bit as I contemplate what exactly I’m going to tell Kidd when he questions me come the morning, coming to the conclusion that I didn’t even know myself why I wanted to go with them.

Something just told me I needed to stay with them.

Next Chapter

if you liked this, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

To the editor,

@emmi-kat said it first, but i humbly submit a second vote for a post-Book of Secrets injuries post? The post-Cibola angst possibilities are unmatched.

As always, love your work!

Injuries in Book of Secrets

By popular demand, injuries in National Treasure: Book of Secrets!

@emmi-kat @arsenicalbronze Thank you for the request and your patience!

I’ll be honest, I’ve been avoiding some of the BoS questions you lovely folks have sent because it’s just…not my favorite. Certainly not in the way that the first National Treasure is.

Like it’s fine. I almost always watch BoS after I watch National Treasure and I have a good time watching it. It’s an okay movie. There are a lot of individual sequences that I like. I like the Buckingham Palace nonsense. I like kidnapping the President. I actually like most of them!

But as a whole, it just doesn’t do it for me. Every time I watch National Treasure I get a little more enchanted by the whole thing. Every time I watch Book of Secrets I get more disillusioned.

Imo, Book of Secrets works as a movie, but it fails as a sequel.

But that is not this! Let’s talk about injuries.

Hypothermia, falling rocks, danger vs peril and more under the cut!

Something that stands out to me about Book of Secrets is that the characters are in danger a lot, but they aren’t really in peril as much as in the first movie.

As I'll be using them here:

Danger - bodily harm is possible, but not inevitable. The threat is one step away. Peril — bodily harm is basically inevitable; the treat is here.

Robbing the Archives is dangerous. Ben could get caught, shot, tased, or arrested at any point.

Rescuing Abigail from the catering truck is perilous. Injury is all but inevitable.

Since everyone is on more-or-less the same trajectory in this film, I’ll go by sequence rather than by character.

ACT 1

Setup: Reveal of the Page

No injuries here except hurt pride and maybe a paper cut.

Likewise with breaking into Abigail’s house and looking at the page under infrared at the Archives.

Danger: 0/5 Peril: 0/5

Debate: Cracking the Cypher

The first whiff of danger, I would argue, is when Abigail meets Mitch for a drink. We know he’s the bad guy, but she doesn’t. She can sense there’s something shady about him, but I don’t think she guesses that he’s willing to use violence to get what he wants, otherwise I don’t think she’d meet him alone. She did experience Ian, after all.

Danger: 2/5 Peril: 0/5

ACT 2

Paris

Ben and Riley do get stopped by the police here, but they’re in danger of a ticket (or, I supposed I should say, they’re in peril of a ticket, because Riley does get one lol). Nobody’s physical safety or ability to complete the treasure hunt is compromised.

But then Patrick is attacked! He receives a nasty blow to the head—hard enough to knock him out in one hit. That’s going to leave a bump, and more than likely a concussion, though he doesn’t seem to be exhibiting the symptoms of such in rest of the movie.

And though we see later in the cave sequence that Patrick is pretty spry for his age, I have to imagine that the resulting fall is also a problem for him. He’s unconscious, so he wouldn’t be bracing against the fall, which can also cause injuries, but he also isn’t in control of how he lands at all.

He could have bruises, scrapes, or potentially even a broken bone, but given that he tells Ben he’s okay, and he seems to be, these injuries appear to be mild.

Danger: 0/5 Peril: 3/5

Buckingham Palace

Things start to get a little bit more interesting for the trio in London.

During the Buckingham Palace sequence, Ben is in danger for the first time in the film.

At first the danger is minor. He’s at risk of making a scene (check!), maybe getting banister burn on his legs, and of getting handled roughly by security.

Since it’s England, I believe they’d only be carrying nightsticks, so Ben isn’t at risk of being shot, but those guys all have military badges on. They can absolutely do some damage if they want to. At this point though, they don’t want or need to cause a scene like that, they just want to get Ben out of the public area.

Once Ben and Abigail escape the containment unit and ride up the dumbwaiter to the Queen’s study, the danger increases considerably. They’re now trespassing in Buckingham Palace, and in the Queen’s private study no less. If they get caught here, they’re going to be in considerably more physical and legal danger.

But that’s if.

Since they don’t, the main injury they’re at risk for is, like, carpet burns. (And if Ben or Abigail has any allergies to flowers, an allergy attack in the dumbwaiter, but since that doesn’t happen, I have to assume they do not.)

Danger: 4/5 Peril: 0/5

Beer Truck Chase

All right, some peril!

When Mitch and Co pursue them for the plank, Team Treasure is in danger and in peril for the first time in the film.

First off, Mitch’s henchman—whose name I know even less than I know the name of Ian’s guys—is shooting at them.

In addition to the obvious risk of actually being shot, because they’re being shot at in a car, there’s glass flying everywhere. It would be safety glass, the kind that breaks into little chunks rather than dangerous shards, but the gang could still receive scratches or abrasions from the pieces. That goes for the initial breaking of the widows and being tossed around with the glass pieces during the car chase.

The car chase itself poses a lot of danger of being hit, captured, or shot, but also of being hurt more minority while in the car.

They could get bruises or whiplash while being thrown back and forth in the car. If anyone is bracing a hand or foot on instinct to stop themselves from sliding around, they could sprain or strain those muscles.

At one point, the back of the car swings rather violently into the side of a double-decker tour bus and the remaining windows shatter. This seems to affect Abigail the most, as she’s the one shown getting flung toward the door.

She’s also sitting in the middle of the back seat, which I understand 100% from a blocking/cinematography standpoint so she’s in between Ben and Riley when they’re shown from the front. But from an in-universe standpoint? Girl. You are in a car chase. Get your ass into a proper seatbelt.

Then there are beer kegs flying everywhere, which makes the driving harder, but doesn’t seem to immediately affect any of our trio in the car.

Lastly, Ben runs a red light, which puts them in danger but ends up working out okay.

I would also be getting car stick by that point, but maybe that’s just me.

Danger: 4/5 Peril: 4/5

I have to say though, I feel bad every time I watch the DVD featurette about how this car chase—which they had to get special permission to shoot in downtown London—was the most ambitious sequence in the franchise.

Because it is also my least favorite sequence in the franchise, hands down.

The effects are nice, but character-wise it’s boring. Nothing character-wise is at stake.

Article idea! Catering truck chase vs beer truck chase. TBD

Emily

Then they try to decode the panel and go to Emily for help. I’m gonna mark this as “some danger” because sure, nobody’s got a gun, but it just feels wrong to mark “bickering divorcees” as a 0.

Danger: 2/5 Peril: 0/5

The Oval Office

The danger here is immense. If they get caught breaking into the Oval Office, Ben and Abigail will at best, be violently detained for an indefinite period of time, and at worst, shot on sight.

But it’s not that kind of movie though, so we don’t even see Secret Service agents nearby. The threat the movie is using to build tension is much more “What if Connor catches us?” than “What is the Secret Service catches/kills us?”

Again, the main injury they actually come away with is probably carpet burns. (And some serious interpersonal awkwardness.)

Danger: 12/5 Peril: 1/5

MIDPOINT — “I’m gonna kidnap him. I’m gonna kidnap the President of the United States”

Mount Vernon

So. We check out Riley’s book, consult with Agent Sadusky, and then it’s off to kidnap the president.

At this point we do see the Secret Service, both in boats patrolling the water, and in and around the party. They are the threat this time. And frankly I think it was smart of the movie to save them for this sequence, rather than use that tension twice in a row.

The threats here are that Patrick could be detained for 48 hours without cause.

Ben could:

Be shot in the water

Be shot on land

Have a scuba accident

Be shot on land some more

Be caught and detained and convicted of conspiring to kidnap the President of the United States

Once Ben is with the President, he isn’t in peril again—only in danger—until he goes through with his plan to shut the door. Now both the danger and the peril are high, because any “detained and questioned” options have been taken off the table.

However, he doesn’t actually seem to sustain any injuries during the kidnap. Maybe a few rock scrapes, wet shoes, or spiderwebs in the hair.

Danger: 15/5 Peril: 3/5

Library of Congress

Here, Ben is in IMMEDIATE DANGER…

…of forgetting those goddamn numbers. Every time I watch this movie, I try to remember them, and every time I fail.

Danger comes charging into the Library of Congress in the form of the FBI, who are much hotter on Ben’s trail then he thought they’d be. (Go Agent Sadusky, you funky little conspiracy theorist.)

Again, a lot of danger, not a lot of peril. That is until we get to the car escape.

First of all, there’s a deleted scene where Ben in standing on the glass roof and it’s cracking under his feet. That is peril, and it's my favorite deleted scene because he calls Agent Sadusky “Pete.” Excuse me are you buddies now? Do you play poker together? Tell me everything.

Ben has to climb down from the roof and jump into a moving vehicle. He’s at risk of scrapes from the metal and brick he’s climbing on, and of landing wrong either on the ground or in the car.

Then when Abigail drives toward the rising security barrier, they all probably receive quite a jolt when the back end of the car flies up. Ben likely takes it worst since he’s unbuckled in the wayback rather than belted into one of the seats.

Danger: 4/5 Peril: 4/5

Bad Guys Close In - Holding Dr. Appleton Hostage

What it says on the tin. Emily and Patrick are both at risk of being shot.

Danger: 5/5 Peril: 0/5

Mount Rushmore

And finally, the Mount Rushmore sequence.

Everyone is at risk of being shot until Mitch leaves behind his guns and henchmen.

ACT 3

Then I hate to say “the usual” but…yeah. The Team Treasure special.

Splinters

Rope burns

Abrasions from climbing over rocks

Falling rocks

Dust inhalation

Almost falling to your death from an ancient wooden contraption.

The usual.

There are also a few additional dangers I’d like to call attention to.

→ Falls

The trio and Mitch take a pretty significant tumble down the ramp that leads to the balance platform. Like, head over heel, ass over teakettle tumble, and then they land hard on the stone-and-wood platform.

They immediately have to scramble up to balance it out, so there isn’t much time for anyone to assess if they’re injured. At this point though, I’d guess the scraps and bruises are pretty significant, if not a concussion, sprained ankle or other more serious injury.

→ Cave-ins

There’s also the risk of cave-ins. In National Treasure, the wooden stair system under Trinity Church may be unstable, but the cavern itself does not seem to be in danger of collapse. A few bits of rock and debris fall when the subway train passes, but overall the stability of the tunnels and chambers does not seem to be an immediate concern.

That is less true here in Book of Secrets. Patrick and Emily especially are in danger of a cave-in since they’re crawling through previously-collapsed passages and moving rocks to get there.

That said, their actual injuries are probably more likes scrapes and bruises. Patrick also could have strained his arms, back, or knees moving the heavier rocks (as Emily directs him to do.)

They also probably again land pretty hard from their swing across the chasm. For Patrick that’s two falls in the last few days, and Emily also gets flung backwards while avoiding the trapdoor. Given their age, they have to have some significant bruising, if not fractures, sprains, or more.

They're the members of the party who are most likely to be feeling the repercussion of this adventure weeks down the road.

→ Water, water everywhere

Obviously, the most pressing obstacle in the second movie finale sequence is water.

In the famous words of my friend while watching the Gerard Butler Phantom of the Opera movie in the eighth grade:

“I would chafe.”

This may be the least of their worries, but still, let's put "significant discomfort" on the list. And if you headcanon any of them to have sensory difficulties, they're probably having an extra bad time.

The water poses plenty of health hazards from the immediate—i.e. drowning—to the slightly less immediate, like hypothermia.

We know thanks to the White House Easter Egg Roll that the film is taking place around Easter weekend. In 2007 that was April 8th.

The average weather for April in the Black Hills of South Dakota is a high in the high 40s (48°) and a low in the low 20s (21°). The actual weather in the first weeks of April in 2007 were significantly cooler than average, with “many parts of the state reporting temperatures 20 to 25 degrees below average.”

The gang is dressed for cool weather (or cold weather with lots of physical activity, depending on how far ahead you think they thought to pack and dress.) Most of them are wearing several layers, including a sweater and medium-weight jacket. Riley is wearing a parka. (Open, but still.)

P.S. I adore the idea that Riley is the constantly-cold one in the group.

Whether or not the air is below freezing, that water is cold.

The wet rocks scene was filmed at Sylvan Lake, whose temperature ranges from the low 30s to high 40s in April.

40° is bad news. Even if the lake was at its April maximum of around 50°, the kids are still at serious risk of hypothermia. At water between 32 and 40°, death can occur in in 30-90 minutes. Between 40 to 50°, in 1-3 hours.

They weren’t in the water that long, but hypothermia symptoms can set in much faster than that.

They’d experience cold shock for the first 3-5 minutes after entering the water. Symptoms include panic, hyperventilation, and increased heart rate.

Between 3-30 minutes after entering the water, they’re at risk of swimming failure. A loss of muscle coordination makes it hard to make forward movement in any water, let alone the aggressive current the team is facing.

And after 30 minutes, true hypothermia sets in, where the body temperature drops dangerously low.

I don’t know if Team Treasure was in the water for long enough for that to happen, but they could absolutely face the effects of stages 1 and 2.

Danger: 6/5 Peril: 14/5

Denouement - The President/Page 47

If the gang’s body temperature only dropped to between 90 and 95°, they’d be given blankets, changed into warm clothes, and given warm (not hot) liquids with sugar to help slowly increase their body temperature.

Not sure if you also have weirdly vivid memories of The Day After Tomorrow, but heating a hypothermic person up too quickly, or heating their extremities before their core can cause cardiac arrest.

If their body temperature was below 95°, they may also be give a warm IV.

Since the trio seem basically okay when they’re taken to see the President—Only Abigail has a blanket?? I guess real men don’t need hypothermia treatment?—I have to assume they only needed minor care.

Emily and Patrick are absent in this scene, primarily for story reasons, but we can also infer that they may have needed more treatment. Their age would have put them at higher risk, particularly if either of them have underlying medical conditions like diabetes or are taking certain medications.

Danger: 1/5 Peril: 3/5

→ Other Finale Injuries

• Abigail gets held at knife point. She seems fine, but could have a small scratch on her neck.

• Ben’s leg(s?) get stuck under the stone door. He seems to be walking okay when they’re taken to the President, but idk man. I’d think he’d have some serious bruising, if not a more significant injury.

• And finally, brain freeze! I don’t know what Ben and Abigail are drinking out of soda cups with straws in South Dakota at night in April after almost freezing to death, but they should definitely stop and switch to hot beverages!

Conclusion

Well, there you have it. Injuries in National Treasure: Book of Secrets.

I still can’t say I love the movie, but I’m always here for some hypothermia hurt/comfort so…

What did I miss? What other injuries does Team Treasure have to look forward to?

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic...

Happy New Year, everyone! May it treat you kindly! ~Mod L

~*~

1. hi, for the next itmf could you recommend some good 'police au' ? preferably wangxian oriented. I'm really into all that police, crime, csi etc. stuff :] thx in advance <3

🧡 CSI: Gusu Edition Series by Stratisphyre (M, 39k, WangXian, WWX & LQR, Modern with Magic AU, College AU, Golden Core Reveal, Single parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Hospitalization, Allusions to violence and murder)

a garden in your ribcage by puddingcatbeans (G, 13k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, soft witches au, Developing Relationship)

doing the wrong thing wholeheartedly by isabilightwood (E, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, mentions of creatures from other cultures also existing, Enemies to Lovers, meet ugly, Case Fic, There Was Only One Bed, Fakeout Makeout, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Bathtub Sex, Hair-pulling, Edging, Fluff and Smut, Post-Coital Cuddling) these are modern with magic case fic where wangxian are investigators, not sure if this would work?

When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (Not Rated, 75k, WangXian, Modern AU, Police, Police Officer LWJ, Medical Examiner WWX, Minor Character Death)

Keep Track of Losing Days by giraffeter (T, 74k, WangXian, Modern AU, Case Fic, Police, Missing Persons, Mystery, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Rooftop Conversations, Detective LWJ, antifa WWX, Endgame NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, First Meetings, Seattle, Mutual Pining, nonfatal car accident, mafia wens, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers)

~*~

2. Hiiii! Happy late holidays hope you all r having a good one, im wondering if there are fics of Divergent by Veronica Roth (the book/movie) aus with wangxian, or threadfics, blogs, posts etc.

~*~

3. Hi! Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I wanted to say how thankful I feel for this site, and how you made me find stories I would not have read otherwise if it were not for you. I just read Misalignment, by Kasasagi, and I loved it! I want to recommend it and also ask if you know more of this kind of stories were WX is not the main pairing, but still has an amazing plot. Thank you!

Eyes Wide Shut by Netrixie (T, 65k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, canon divergence, no sunshot, everyone lives au, enemies to friends to lovers, identity porn, mistaken identity, misunderstanding, slow burn)

Emergency Help Wanted by Piyo13 (T, 76k, wangxian, modern, fake/pretend relationship, lawyer JC, everyone lives au, fluff, slow burn, happy ending)

easier, with you by pinkfluffygiant (T, 34k, LJY/LSZ, summer camp au, disaster camp counselors, pining, friends to lovers)

~*~

4. may i ask for fics where wwx helps with sunshot, but he either manages to hide his demonic cultivation, or (with help?) frame it positively so he doesn't end up feared or hated after they win? maybe he's even (god forbid) admired or something? thank you!

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

if you can't beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 216k, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, WIP)

~*~

5. my lovelies, my fanfic deities. Praise be to you! I am down a rabbit hole again and in desperate need of your help. I have a serious craving for canon-complaint/post-canon (or divergent, but not completely left field AU) fics where WWX has a fear of heights. Specifically, as a result of his being thrown into the BM off a great height. Discussions of it, descriptions of it manifesting, working through it, etc; panic attacks get bonus points but aren't obligatory.

Red Flower With One Hundred Petals; Smoke Carried on the Blue Dusk Air by carolyncaves (T, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Alcohol, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, thoughts of death/dying, Caretaking, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Fluff, Family Feels, Literal Sleeping Together, Shotgun Wedding, angry wedding planner JC, Yunmeng sibling drama and fluff, physical affection, Terrible Parties, Happy Ending, for WangXian) perhaps this might work? WWX had to be taken on someone else's sword twice and panics both times

~*~

6. Modern wangxian meet past wangxian

Write It on My Neck by diamondbruise (E, 23k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Transmigration, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Fake Marriage, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Spanking, usual wangxian cnc elements, Misunderstandings)

Crazy Little Thing Called Time by kippalittlefox (T, 11k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

7. Hello I have a request but I am kind of new here. I can figure out how comment a request. -- (this first part put into a finder post)

Also if you know if any fic where wei ying takes the 33 lashes instead of lan zhan. I'd appreciate it. I hope you are enjoying the holidays and that you have a week. @autumnchild26-blog

If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YLLZ WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

~*~

8. pardon the double ask 😅 but could you also recommend some Lan Qiren redemption fics? im generally chill about him haha but it would be lovely to see him genuinely sorry about his treatment of his nephews (especially like, after seeing LWJ's steadfastness after having been whipped 33 mfing times, or even for his part in lwj's lonely childhood) and/or WWX, and extra lovely if he took steps to fix it and rebuild a better relationship! thank you!!

hi! i sent #8 and i thought maybe i should add that i love the 'good uncle lqr tag' and there's a significant overlap, but i'd love to see fics that don't start out with him being good, more (hypocritically) angry or patronizing toward lwj/wwx and then realizing his flaws or (bonus) working to redeem himself (i had time to read cabbages and it it's great, thanks for the rec!)

In Walls of Glass by Comfect (T, 23k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, CSSR & LQR, wangxian, LXC/JC, good uncle LQR, teacher LQR, canon divergence, everyone lives au, fix-it, butterfly effect, JC friendly, LQR pov, not WWX friendly, in LQR’s head mainly and at the start, family feels, demonic cultivation, cultivation theory, WIP)

Cabbages by dreaming of your qin (sherleigh) (G, 20k, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, wangxian, post-canon)

they might want to check out the Good Uncle Lan Qiren tag

~*~

9. may I have some fics where WWX became a Supreme Ghost? @sareen-momos-stuff

🧡 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 21k, WangXian, HuaLian, Canon Divergence, Ghost City, a bit of beefleaf, Immortality, Cultivation Partners, Juniors, XL and HC find a child who happens to be WWX, Fluffy wangxian, WWX is a Supreme Ghost King, First Time)

Back From The Dead by Suibian_613 (T, 44k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, HuaLian, XuanXuan, XinQing, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Supreme Ghost King WWX)

~*~

10. Hiiii. For the next itmf fic rec, can you please recommend some with virgin wwx and experienced lwj. Thank you.

Lan-Laoshi! by Bee_Li (M, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, age gap, Professor LWJ, College Student WWX, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Barebacking, Desk Sex, Pre-Relationship, College/University, Hair-pulling, CreamPie, LWJ is in his early thirties, WWX is like 21-22, Experienced LWJ, LWJ Fucks, inexperienced wwx, Virgin WWX, Kinda dark LWJ, Hand Jobs, First Time, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube)

all the trembling ways by typefortydeductions (E, 11k, WangXian, First Time, Overstimulation, Verbal Humiliation, Rimming, First Time Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Aftercare, sex tears, lwj FUCKS, Modern AU, Dom/sub Undertones, Porn with Feelings)

kiss me more (we got nothing to lose) by xeansiao (E, 5k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Couch Sex, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, College/University, Dirty Talk, Let LWJ Say Fuck, lwj FUCKS, Masturbation, Dom/sub Undertones, Pining while fucking, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Pining, POV LWJ, Size Kink, Size Difference, Under-negotiated Kink, Feminization, Degradation)

Wei Laoshi, Poonslayer by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 6k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV LWJ, straight boy wwx, Loss of Virginity, Getting Together)

i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mind Reading, Enemies to Lovers, it's only enemies to lovers in wwx's one braincell, Misunderstandings, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Whump, brief illness/injury, Pining, light bdsm in the first chap, Cherry Magic AU, Getting Together)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation)

The Keeper by phnelt (E, 3k, WangXian, PWP, A/B/O Dynamics, Sex Work, virgin wwx, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Dom LWJ, sub wwx, Undernegotiated Kink, BDSM, Ruined Orgasms, a/b/o typical fluid kink, Dom/sub, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics)

thrice as cruel by iliacquer (E, 15k, WIP, WangXian, Switching, Masochist WWX, Sadist LWJ, BDSM, Kushiel's Legacy Fusion, Dubious Consent, Sex Work, Courtesan LWJ, Submissive WWX, Dominant LWJ, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Consensual Non-Consent)

~*~

11. Hello! First of all, thank you for everyone’s hard work- I love you all!!���

Second of all, I was wondering if you had any fic recs (or NEW fic recs) with a possessive/jealous/v protective Wei Ying. I love this trope but feel like I’ve read them all 😅 Thank you!

A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, wangxian, LWJ/MXY, modern, compulsory heterosexuality, masturbation, eventual smut, pining, denial, drunkeness, jealousy, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending)

It’s Over Isn’t It by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 68k, WangXian, LWJ/OMC, Oblivious WWX, Jealous WWX, One-Sided Attraction, Canon Divergence, it says Lan Zhan and another character but it’s all one sided, we got a love triangle baby, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

hold up a mirror by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 36k, wangxian, modern, fake/pretend relationship, misundersandings, pining, eventual smut, happy ending, self-discovery, insecurity, dancing, loneliness, friends to lovers)

Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, wangxian, canon divergence, romantic comedy, pining, protective JC, friends to lovers, misunderstandings)

Your Song Called Me, Can’t Believe I am Late by Padma_Warrior (M, 25k, wangxian, WIP, protective wwx, yiling laozu wwx, angst w/ happy ending, not gusu lan friendly, hurt LWJ, bottom LWJ)

~*~

12. For the next itmf, I would really like to read more fics that show canon (or near-canon) events from NHS’s POV. I’m looking for fics where he’s not part of a ship or aren’t specifically tagged ‘Nie Huaisang POV’ or ‘Nie Huaisang-specific’ as I can find those on my own. Thanks so much!

~*~

13. Hello! Happy almost new year! I'm looking for fics where WWX gives his golden core to LWJ instead of JC, thank you!

~*~

14. Hi! I'm looking for something where any member of the cast has chronic illness and either uses cultivation to manage it, or maybe in wwx's case, the loss of his golden core exacerbates, or causes? Bonus points for friends + family members finding out + trying to help (or not lmao). All the best, hope your festive season is going well! @crying--crow​

let the sun go down on your anger; let it burn you to sleep by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 78k, wangxian, WQ & WWX, graphic depictions of violence, chronic illness, narcolepsy, chronic pain, YLLZ WWX, oblivious WWX, sleeping beauty elements, body horror, WIP) has WWX suffering from narcolepsy, which the transfer does NOT help.

Instead by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, like self-indulgently so, by way of dark(er) gusu lan, manipulative elders, but in a good way?, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not really gusu lan friendly either, not particularly friendly towards anyone really, aside from wangxian of course, Cultivation World Critical, Sunshot Campaign, Fluff, Politics, Courting Rituals, possibly implied mpreg, Genius WWX, Talismans, No demonic cultivation, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ) might count

A Burning Cold by MountainRose (G, 29k, Chronic Illness, Pre-Canon, Nirvana in Fire Fusion, Character Study, Wen Bullshit, Suibian, Snow Beetle Poison) Nirvana in Fire fusion with WWX in the position of Mei Changsu

silt, or scurvy series by astronicht (M, 11k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, chronic illness, podfic by raitala)

~*~

15. itmf cisswap wangxian where wwx has big breasts? I've read a lot if lesbian wangxian but i've barely seen ones where wwx has a bigger chest and im curious if there are any i missed.. (sorry this is a bit weird!)

~*~

16. Here's an odd request, but I'd love some fics where LXC is supportive but Deeply Confused about WTH is going on with Wangxian. I recently (re)read "I started from the bottom/and now I'm rich," and LXC's concern that WWX might plan to murder LWJ on their wedding night is hilarious to me. I also loved the fic (forgot the name, sadly) where LXC is extremely straight and thinks LWJ is only with WWX because he's never been with a woman and therefore doesn't realize what he's missing. (Oh, I remember this one, it was hilarious to read ~Mod L) Both these fics are light and play the misunderstanding for laughs. So that's what I want: fics where LXC means well and tries to make LWJ happy, and is hilariously off-base about it. Are there any more other than these two? @invisible-mirror​

The Flautist by oleanderedits (T, 1k, wangxian, double entendre, humor, comedy, canon divergence, LXC pov, sex worker au)

❤️ happy not knowing by plonk (not rated, 16k, wangixan,  canon era, clueless Xichen, established relationship, Mojo’s bookmark) the fic mentioned.

speeding up my heartbeat by plonk (Not Rated, 24k, WangXian, Bottom LWJ, Modern with Magic, Modern AU, Gyms) lxc is very supportive but helplessly straight and therefore clueless

~*~

17. Hello! I’m in the mood for fics where the MDZS characters interact with modern characters. Thank you <3!

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, college/university au, canon-divergence, time travel, sharing a bed, fish out of water, angst with a happy ending, man out of time, slow burn, character death, angst, reference to abuse, canonical character death, canonical abuse, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, chronic illness, not exactly a fix-it, podfic available, implied 3zun, college student wei wuxian, genius wei wuxian, found family, pov alternating)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what  you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack,  whatever - it’s all good!***

[hopeamarsu]

Hurt

Flip Zimmerman x female reader

Word count 1,538

Warnings: Mention of hospital, stitches, needles and bodily injury (nothing is really described in detail, but they are there). Slightly murderous and feral Flip. 

A/N: So, I had to have some minor cosmetic surgery last week because of an irregular mole and currently have some annoying stitches on my body. I guess you could say that this piece is inspired by those four little buggers and the process of waiting for the day when they come out. When I started rolling this idea in my head, I could only picture Flip, so I’m dipping my toe into writing Flip, hopefully it’ll turn out alright. 

“Colorado Springs Police Department, Zimmerman.”

“Flip... Please do not freak out, but...”

Flip Zimmerman sat up in rapt attention on his desk chair as he registered your timid voice. A voice that was laced with a hint of hurt and something else he couldn’t quite place. You normally didn’t call him during the day, both of you had busy jobs and he knew that as a school teacher you had even less time than him to take a break during the day. If you were calling him, something had to have gone wrong.

“Baby girl, what happened?”

“...I’m in the hospital.”

A million things went across his mind as he waited for you to speak, to explain more, to ease his mind. Had something happened at work? Were you hurt? Was someone else hurt? One of the kids you taught? Did someone touch you without permission? Who he had to hunt down if they had hurt you?

“It’s really not a big deal, just four stitches and that’s only because the doctor doesn’t want it to scar...”

All of his blood rushed in his ears as he reached behind him to grab his jacket from the backrest. You were hurt, bad enough that a doctor had decided to poke needles at you and you were saying it wasn’t a big thing? No, no way in hell.

“Y/N. What. Hospital.” Flip basically barked out, the receiver giving out a crackle, in danger of snapping in two, as he held it so tightly in his hand. He could feel Ron and Jimmy turning to watch him in surprise at his tone and words, but he couldn’t care less in the moment.

“St. Agnes, near the school. But, Flip, honey, it’s not a big...”

“Do not move. I’m coming to get you.”

The receiver went flying as large cowboy boots stormed across the room, taking the phone with it. Ron, sitting closest to Flip’s station, could hear the faint voice calling for Flip from the phone as he looked at the retreating flannel covered back, eyes wide.

*

You were sitting on one of the waiting room chairs as Flip walked inside. Well, walking was a kind term for the sound of thunderous stomping that you could hear before you saw him. You watched him make a sweep across the room before he settled on you. A few seconds later the mountain of a man dropped down on his knees before you and worried eyes found yours.

“Baby girl, what...” His voice broke and eyebrows pinched together as he kept sweeping his eyes across your features and hands trailed over your body. You smoothed his cheek and smiled, hoping to alleviate the worry on his handsome face. You buried another hand to his hair, scraching lightly at his scalp in a way that always soothed him. 

“It’s nothing bad, Flip. I promise you.” You tried to input as much of calmness into your voice as you could, to make him understand that you were alright. Your Flip was a protective one, you didn’t need him going off the rails with what you were about to reveal. “Just a small accident that happened at the school. There is nothing to worry about, trust me.”

He took a couple of breaths through his nose, hoping silently that he could light a cigarette here. He really needed the nicotine right about now, his chain-smoking on the ride over a proof of that. 

“Tell me. Please.” The words were still a little choked as they were whispered. As far as he could feel and see, you were in one piece, no blood or missing limbs. You looked pretty much the same as that morning when he had left you at the gates and kissed you goodbye, promising to pick you up after the school was over. But he knew that it was only an illusion. One that would shatter as soon as you spoke.

“Well... Joshua and Michael were fighting again during art class. They had their hands on some clay carving knifes and as I went to stop them, one of them accidentally stabbed me.”

Stabbed you? With a knife? And you claimed you were alright? How in the name of everything that was holy were those boys still breathing? He could feel his blood boiling again, a nervous tick on his knuckles. His nostrils flared in anger. 

“Honey, I need you to calm down. I am fine, I promise. The nurse at the school looked me over, but told that it was better if I came here instead. The doctor decided that I would need some stitches, just to make sure that the area does not get infected and so that it doesn’t scar. At least not badly.”

There was a possibility that you would get a scar from all of this? That was it, Flip was going to kill the boys responsible for hurting you. Ron could help him dispose of the bodies and Jimmy could run interference. There was a nice stone quarry outside of the city they could use for the job, nobody would be the wiser. 

“Where?” He ground out, your hands the only thing that kept him from bolting to his truck and going hunting for those responsible. 

You gestured at your chest and Flips eyes widened. That bastard kid had stabbed your tits? Oh, they were going six feet under. He must have flashed murderous anger in his eyes one too many times as the next thing he realized was that you had placed both of your hands to his cheeks and forced him to look you into the eyes.

“Flip. It was an accident. You cannot plan to murder anyone. I am fine. I promise. This is only a precaution.”

“I’m not planning to murder anyone.” He didn’t care that he sounded like a petulant kid at that moment. He wanted to hurt them for hurting you, but if you didn’t allow him to kill, he could do other things to them to make sure nothing like this happened ever again. “Can I...”

“No, absolutely not. Flip, they are seven years old, I do not want you giving them nightmares either. They are scared enough as it is.”

Fine. He held out his hands as to surrender to your will. But then he turned his attention back to your body, wanting to rip the cardigan off you so that he could see your skin. Make sure that you had been given all the care you needed and he could sooth his worrying mind that all was going to be okay.

“Show me.” 

If the doctor had done a sloppy job, Flip could settle for him as well. The idea of it all sickened him. That someone had poked a needle into your perfect skin, threaded it back together, leaving ugly black strings in there to tighten the skin for days to come. That had to have caused you discomfort, to make you even more uncomfortable and he wanted someone to pay for it. He would gladly burn the world at your feet to easy any pain you had, physical or otherwise. 

“I’ll show you once we are home. I promise. But I need you here with me now.” You kissed him then, wanting to feel those velvet lips move against yours, make you forget the afternoon completely. Despite what you’d told Flip, you had been slightly shaken by the experience and the pain that was still ebbing from the needlework. And you knew that he would provide comfort for you, make all this go away. 

Flip was a full-body kisser so it was no wonder that once your lips touched his, he wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you to his lap, right there on the hospital waiting room floor. Hands danced across your back, slipping lower to grip your bottom. Flip desperately wanted to slip his hands under you skirt, he needed to feel your skin on his skin. 

There was almost a feral need coarsing through his veins. He wanted to run away with you on his arms, tuck you under him on a bed with silk sheets, where nothing could hurt you. To place kisses everywhere on your naked body, taste the salt of your skin with his tongue, bring you to the edge and to heaven, time and time again. Make it all go away, leaving nothing but pleasure behind.  

But before he could act on those desires, before the kiss could get too heated (a reccuring thing with Flip and those sinful lips of his) you pulled away. You pressed small kisses to his lips as you grounded both of you back to reality. “There is one thing...” Another kiss “...I still need to tell you.”

Flip quirked an eyebrow at this. What more could there be?

“So, there are some rules we need to abide to while I’m healing. No heavy lifting and nothing can poke the wound. Also, I cannot go swimming in the next ten days and a day after they do come out. And... I can’t sweat heavily or jostle the wound. That means sex is out.”

“Fuck.”

His week just went from bad to worse.

Tagging as requested @aloneandsleepless​ 😉

[tethered-heartstrings]

Fanfic ask game:

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with A Little Gold Goes A Long Way?

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

D: The only song mentioned in the story is “Palangos jūroj", which is an old Lithuanian song. I spent a fair amount of time researching a song that was in Lithuanian with a theme that fit my story and Hannibal and Will's relationship. (I may have taken some slight creative liberties in its interpretation. Sue me.) But otherwise not really. Even though I can't listen to any goddamn album without thinking of those two idiots, somehow that doesn't translate to my fics at all.

F: Holy shit, I have too much material to read through. I also feel dialogue is not my strong suit. (P.S. sorry there are more than one I am extremely indecisive.) I'll leave which fic it comes from a mystery. I also took out some of their emotional/facial descriptions and stripped it to just the dialogue. (Edit: I forgot the second part of this prompt oops. I don’t know if I want to explain it, I think me dissecting my own work is a bad time.)

H: “Let me help you. I don’t want to hurt you, Will.” W: “You will. You will because… I need you to.” H: “I don’t understand.” W: “I remembered. I need you to remember, too. You chose to hurt me once. Do it again. Hurt me now and… remember how it feels. Remember my face. My pulse. My breath in your hands. Remember now… so you never hurt me again. I want it to haunt you. Because I need it to end.”

H: “Is something the matter?” W: “How do you treat a burn?” H: “Not much can be done for minor burns. Clean it and dress it like any other wound.” W: “This… isn’t like any other wound, Hannibal.” H: “Damaged flesh is all the same, Will. Don’t make meaning where there is none.” W: “Does it hurt?” H: “Do you need it to?” W: “Pain is lonely. Whether its internalized or left to be expressed unaccompanied makes no difference. I know it hurts.” H: “Then why did you bother to ask?” W: “I guess I hoped maybe you were done lying to me.” W: “You chose an easy target. A bird with broken wings.” H: “Broken bones can be mended.” W: “Even the best medicine can’t cure it all. What’s the quality of life for a bird that cannot fly?” H: “Domesticated birds can live their full lives with mended wings.” W: “Wild birds don’t stand a chance at surviving.” H: “Some birds are not nearly as feral as they assume.” H: “Are you jealous of Mason Verger?” W: “There is nothing about Mason even remotely desirable. I just think you deserve better than his fucking brand on your back.” H: “I cannot see my scar. My branding does not bother me. Blips in a bigger story. It bothers you, though. Did Mason ruin me for you?” W: “What?” H: “He’s marked me. Tainted me, perhaps. A part of me forever.” W: “Nobody can ruin you. Least of all Mason fucking Verger. Besides, not all my marks are from you, either. Does that make you jealous?” H: “Yes.” W: “Why?” H: “Others have marked you but have caused less lasting agony. I wish I could be among the few to… leave their mark but not a scar.” W: “If our violence had no meaning, we wouldn’t be here. Was I ruined for you?” H: “There isn’t a thing on this earth that could spoil you for me.”

S: The only fic I seem to be able to write is hurt/comfort and angst/(some)fluff. Basically, enough fluff to keep the angst from being too painful. I unapologetically love showering/bathing together non-sexually. I can't explain in words how it makes me feel. But it is so vulnerable and requires so much care and love and attention. To wash someone's hair for them, fingertips tracing across the skin? Perfection. I will never tire writing about it. I also love wound healing. Similar feelings of intimacy as bathing but with darker origins. Cleaning blood, stitching wounds, the argument over of "I don't need local anesthetic/yes you do." I guess I'm a sucker for complicated intimacy and touch.

[wixelt]

Voided AU #017 - Mobs

Voided AU. Going to delve a little into the mobs of the Hermit world, this time. Or at least the mobs as they are in the opening days of the crisis, with a few hints beyond that for what's to come.

Special thanks to @tripleabatteryiswhoiam for making me give this some genuine thought. Might've missed an opportunity, otherwise.

When the Void arrives, its initial obvious and rapid effect on the mobs of the world is quickly apparent to most Hermits. In the sunless darkness of the Void fog, magnitudes more hostile mobs find places to spawn, the shadowed landscape an ideal locale.

And they aren't burning, or despawning when nobody's around. So the number of foes in the world keeps rising. And rising. And rising. And there’s not much that can stop that, as Xisuma's lockout means he can't just remove them.

And naturally, hordes of monsters make travel incredibly difficult, especially as they're getting tougher as the Void suffuses them.

Hermits like False or Wels may be the first to really notice the change. Beating their way through the horde to find their friends, they discover it takes a couple more slashes of the sword than usual to kill a spider or creeper. For a small group, that’s not a huge problem, but when there’s hordes numbering hundreds, though...

A lot of this can be attributed to monsters gradually being made more resistant to the elements, particularly those that would've hurt them before. Mobs are the first entities to be affected like this, though as it's early days you wouldn't know just from looking at them.

And then there’s the possibility of the Void having far more than just a passing effect on various creatures... but in the present, this isn't a concern for most, so only X keeps his eyes out for the signs. And he isn't exactly close to any other Hermit to discuss the prospect.

There's a minor point of good news, though, if you can call it that.

The undead seem less affected by the Void than other mobs, their quasi-alive nature somehow providing a mild resistance to the effect that's already begun to show in other kinds of monster. It makes them easier to cut through for the time being, but only time will tell if it holds up. When Cleo eventually discovers this, it'll likely provide her a degree of relief that her undead nature won't drag her down, as of all the mob-type Hermits, she views herself as possibly the most susceptible. It might also explaining some other... oddities, too.

Regardless, with hordes of Void-afflicted hostiles potentially lunging from the darkness, the world suddenly feels a hell of a lot larger, for everyone.

But there's the fear - another of X's, as well as Scar's eventually - of more than just hostile creatures being affected. That in due time there may be no such thing as a passive mob.

That Hermits might be beset by hordes of hostile pigs, sheep, cows, wolves...

...and cats.

[karasunovolleygays]

UshiIwa Fic Recs

(that nobody asked for)

Hello! It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome you all to UshiIwa hell! I’ve been malingering here for years, but with new developments in canon, it looks like I am no longer stuck on Gilligan’s Island (me plus the six other sad bastards i’m stranded with). 

As a long time sufferer of this ship, I would like to introduce you to some of my favorite UshiIwa stories, including a few of my own bc tag smol. :’)

Rating: G/T

I Lose Control by voices_in_my_head Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, OMC (Coach) Summary: "He looks to the bench, where Iwaizumi’s eyes dance from player to player." Words: 1,538 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: this is an interesting study of how Ushijima would deal with an injury at a crucial moment when everyone is counting on him, plus a dose of priority.

Cordially Uninvited by Karasuno Volleygays (that’s me) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Possible Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Paparazzi Summary: Paparazzi haunting notable people has always been a problem, but Hajime and Wakatoshi opt to clear the air on their own terms. Words: 1,279 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I thought it would be interesting to see how Ushijima would deal with celebrity and subsequently strangers poking their noses in his personal business.

Three Doors Down by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, More Fluff, pretty bara men bonding over dogs Summary: When Ushijima inherited a property that had seen better days, he found himself spending a lot of time and effort in a new part of town restoring the house to its former glory. However, he didn't expect a litter of puppies in a yard a few houses over to revive his spirit, as well.

He certainly didn't anticipate their owner stirring something to life within him, either, but that was a development he didn't need much coaxing to get used to. Words: 13,145 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: I have no excuses for how fluffy this is.

you're good, too quickly admitted by pyrality Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Coffeeshop AU, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting Summary: Iwaizumi sits back in the chair, "Oikawa thinks I could do better."

Ushijima swallows, eyes still on his laptop screen, "And what do you think?"

"I think I'd like to go out to lunch with you sometime."

He looks up at the other boy, feeling warm at the sight of Iwaizumi's crooked, barely there smile, a challenging twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," Ushijima manages before he recomposes himself, "I'd like that.” Words: 2,731 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: UshiIwa dating to spite Oikawa is too good to turn down.

Alight by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Time Skips, Rivals to Lovers Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 4,504 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you’re interested in them getting to know each other through their failures and vulnerable moments, this is probably your jam.

Baby It's Cold Outside by RarePairGremlin Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Winter, Cuddling, light grinding, hints to smut but nothing is described, jaw kiss, Kissing, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: The childish grin spread over his lips again as he faced them, his gaze roaming up them slowly as an idea formed. Ushijima, ever prepared, was fully dressed in thick socks a pair of blue sweats, which they had tucked into their socks like the crime against fashion they are, and a thick hoodie. He knew for a fact, since he’s stolen it enough times, that the hoodie was fuzzy and soft on the inside. Beside them lay a steaming cup of tea, the bag still steeping inside as they liked their tea strong, and the aforementioned throw lay comfortably across their lap. A perfect image of warm and cozy.

It would be a shame if someone was to disturb that now wouldn’t it? Words: 1,471 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly what it says on the tin, plus a bonus NB Ushijima!

the ghost in your room by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Unrequited Love, Unrequited IwaOi, oikawa is a bit of a dick Summary: Hajime finds a way to get over Oikawa Words: 1,173 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s an oddly pleasurable mixture of fluff and a punch in the throat.

Good Graces by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Arguments, Mending Fences Summary: Hajime is pissed at Wakatoshi for something he admits he did until he finds out the real reason he did it. Then he feels like a jackass. Hopefully, his live-in boyfriend is up for a good old fashioned groveling session. Words: 2,059 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: Making your otp mad at each other is hard and it hurts, but the communication afterward is so important. 

lit the very fuse by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Getting Together, Unrequited Love, Christmas Eve, Mostly Fluff, ushiwaka is a soft boy, you can never convince me otherwise Summary: Hajime isn't sure what he and Ushijima are to each other, but he knows he's still stuck on Oikawa. Words: 2,609 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you like FWB to Lovers, step right up and scream into the void with me. 

Once An Enemy. by BGee93 Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Aged-Up Character(s), Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Volleyball, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, volleyball mentioned not played, Getting to Know Each Other, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Aobajousai, Shiratorizawa, boyfriend sweater, Confusion, Cliche, cliches, Awkward RomanceAwkward Meetings, meme team - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, very slow burn, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Bonding, Forced Bonding Summary: 'It took several minutes to catch his breath again and to stop hissing through his teeth at the areas that throbbed, until they were just a dull ache. Once Iwaizumi felt he was able to move again he slid his hands up the strangers chest, ignoring the ripple and twitches his touch caused since the situation was already awkward enough without Iwaizumi appreciating the well toned muscle under his fingertips, as he pushed himself up till he was able to look at the persons face. There was more lighting on the bottom floor, as it was closer to the illuminating street lamps outside, so he was able to make out exactly who the man was within mere seconds despite the face still being quite shadowed. And the identity shocked him into stilling every joint, muscle and fiber of his being.

Oh hell no.' Words: 20,130 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was written for me as a gift in an exchange a while back. Have I stopped screaming about it? Not bloody likely.

Rating: M

Focus (On Me) by Verbrennung Tags: Underage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ushijima is a 1st year, lots of staring, and looming, and crowding, Seijou!Ushijima, rated for ~makin' out~ Summary: Nobody had foreseen future Super Ace Ushijima Wakatoshi transferring from Shiratorizawa to Aoba Johsai for high school. Everyone's curious to know why, and as Iwaizumi discovers, some of his reasons are... unexpected.

An AU in which everything is mostly the same except Ushijima is a first year at Aoba Johsai and has a huge, looming crush on Iwaizumi. Words: 12,454 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This should probably be rated T instead, but whatever. If you ever wanted to know how much of an awkward bastard both of them are when they’re into someone, this is your jam.

Point Blank by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Future Fic, Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Slow Burn, Financial shenanigans, Scary Men with Guns, Minor Character Death Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.

But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima. Words: 44,981 Chapters: 12/12 My notes: This was my first UshiIwa and I still think about it a lot. Imagining these guys in regular jobs is strange, but kind of endearing when you get a feel for how they live their lives after volleyball.

Rating: E

Flare by fish_wifey Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, From dislike to like, Tension, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge. Words: 7,687 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: Enemies to lovers speed run ahoy!

Tangled Webs by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Black Widow AU, Assassin Iwaizumi, Crime boss Ushijima, alcohol use, Drugging, dubcon elements, Angst Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way? Words: 4,120 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was some fucked up stuff, but sweet baby jesus it was a wild ride to write.

Unraveled by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bondage, Knife Play, Edging, Rough Sex, Flogging, Breathplay, Toys, Dubious Morality Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him. Words: 5,145 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s cute that I thought the first fic in this series was fucked up. This one was clearly more so, but noragerts.

Poly/Multiship ft. UshiIwa

4 AM by ApparentlyAda Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, this is so stupid, I'm Sorry, Oikawa and Ushijima talk about dogs, Iwaizumi is Oikawa and Ushiwaka Trash #1 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: "Ushiwaka."

"Yes?"

"What if one day you woke up as a chicken?"

"What if one day you shut the fuck up?", interrupts Hajime groggily.

(Or, simply put, the awful(ly amazing) conversations these three dorks have during sleepless nights) Words: 1,064 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I hope you like banter and Oikawa roastage haha

Bridge the Gap by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Divorce, Past Child Abuse, Lawyer! Oikawa, Police officer iwaizumi, Flower Shop Owner Ushijima, child kageyama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Meet the Family, chap 6 is the familys ongoing mission to keep kags hydrated, chap 7 is meet the parents edition, Internalized Homophobia, just a touch of it really Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijijma Wakatoshi love each other more than anything, but sometimes that’s not enough, especially in a world that doesn’t love them back. Tiny cracks begin to widen, ever so slowly, until the gaps they leave seem insurmountable.

They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the little boy loitering outside their window.

—-

Or, a story of disconnects and the love it takes to bridge them. Words: 121,443 Chapters: 18/18 My notes: It’s long with a lot of heavy themes, but if you look at the tags and think you can get through them, it’s so worth it.

a taste of heaven by beatboxbmo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Polyamory, Birthday baking, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s) Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: tooru comes home early on his birthday to see his two boyfriends asleep on the couch. they baked him a surprise. Words: 2,141 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly as warm and gooey as it sounds.

Three's A Crowd by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Miscommunication, Dating, First Kiss, a mess, These Boys are a MESS, Chatlogs, Light Angst, Polyamory, OT3 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.

Neither of them will say anything.

Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there.

And things get very complicated. Words: 32,385 Chapters: 9/10 My notes: Normally I don’t put WIPs on rec lists, but this one is close to completion and it’s so, so worth it. Boys are dumb and you should appreciate them.

adolescence and all its glory by pageleaf Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Wooing, Future Fic, College/University, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Fluff, Flirting, Established Iwaoi, eventual OT3, Threesome - M/M/M, Manga Spoilers Summary: Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he should have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 20,024 Chapters: 2/2 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Accidental rivals to lovers? Enjoy the sound of me screaming into the abyss, and the abyss screams back.

Close For Comfort by Leryline Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, NSFW, ushioi - Freeform, really sinful but great, Angst, it has a happy ending i promise, iwaoi - Freeform, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Cheating, but look it's integral to the plot ok, ROMANC E AHGHGNJD it's so gay, turning a oneshot into a multi-chap out of spite: a novel by me, also: don't cheat on people irl my dudes it's not cool. not cool.like legit please DO NOT Summary: Oikawa Tōru has always seen his future with Iwaizumi Hajime - solely, utterly, completely. After all, Iwaizumi is his pillar, the only person he needs in the world.

...right?

[or: Ushijima Wakatoshi comes in and fucks everything up, as usual, but Oikawa has never given in easily, and neither has Iwaizumi, for that matter.] Words:61041 Chapters: 15/15 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: If infidelity makes you uncomfortable, even if it has a happy ending all around, I would pass on this one. The smuts, however, are top shelf.

Privacy by plumtrees Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, House Party, Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Partner Swapping Summary: Iwaizumi reaches for the knob by his hip, easily twisting it open and getting them both inside. They stumble in with their lips still sealed over each other’s, silent giggles passing between mouths as Oikawa hurries to flatten his hand against the door to shut it and crowd Iwaizumi against the surface, other hand winding around his waist to pull him close, keep him there—

But then an alarmed noise rips from Iwaizumi’s throat, the hand steady on his shoulder suddenly pushing him away Iwaizumi’s looking behind him, expression a mix of shock and mild horror and Oikawa follows a split second later, just in time for a moan to resonate past the muffled music being carried over from downstairs.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima greets, only the slightest tremor to his voice as Shirabu sinks down on his cock. “Tendou didn’t mention you’d be here.” English Words: 9,736 Chapters: 1/1 Relationship: UshiShiraIwaOi My notes: Good lord this is spicy. This is ‘swinging’ in its truest form.

Show Me You Own Me by preciousghouls Rating: E Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, Rimming, Barebacking, BDSM, Daddy Kink, on oikawa's part, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Bottom!Iwaizumi, bottom!Oikawa, top!oikawa, top!ushijima, switch hitter oikawa, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, i have sinned, sleeping drug in five lines, Consensual, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Collars, Cuffs, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Butt Plugs, domestic AU, Crossdressing Summary: It's Oikawa's idea, of course. But Iwaizumi finds himself loving the way Ushijima has Oikawa wrapped around his fingers, and before long they're both moaning at the hands of Ushijima.

aka the kinkiest shit I've ever written in my life. Words: 20,819 Chapters: 4/4 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Sometimes wanting to be dommed by ushiwaka is a communal mood, ya know?

Tumblr Fics

(mostly not rated/tagged; proceed with caution and at your own discretion)

Untitled by notsuchasecret

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by deathbelle

Comfortable by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Morning Kisses by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Meet My Nephew by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection Day 25: Slow Burn

The difference between living and existing (WIP) | @lucy-is-alive

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6052 Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester's A+ parenting, College AU, Sexuality crisis, PTSD, Childhood trauma, Recreational drug use, Angst and hurt/comfort Summary: As soon as he got the chance, Dean left his father behind and went to college. However, he never anticipated that the absence of the person who had disrupted his entire life would make it worse. With the help of his friends, he tries to navigate through the emotional hurricane that comes with complex PTSD.

Celestial | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10585 Main Tags/Warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, emotional affair, bottom!dean Summary: Dean is in a less than stellar marriage, but he assumes things will work themselves out. At the same time, Mr. Castiel Novak becomes his new co-worker at school and Dean has to rethink everything he thought he had figured out.

Welcome to the Badlands (WIP) | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15386 Main Tags/Warnings: graphic violence, dystopian au, fusion, into the badlands au, slow burn Summary: The wars were so long ago, nobody even remembers. Darkness and fear ruled until the time of the Barons, seven men and women who forged order out of the chaos. People flocked to them for protection. That protection became servitude. They banished guns and trained armies of lethal fighters they called Clippers. This world is built on blood. Nobody is innocent here. Welcome to the Badlands.

Profound Kisses | @verobatto-angelxhunter

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20700 Main Tags/Warnings: Destiel, post 8x07 canon divergent, mutual pining, explicit sexual content, angst with a happy ending, clueless! Castiel, pining!Dean, Top!Dean, Bottom!Cas, slow burn, love confessions, first kiss, french kiss, Sammy knows. Summary: Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

Hate me, but love me too | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23310 Main Tags/Warnings: Virgin!Dean,f hate spell, hate curse, younger!dean, older!sam, Grace Sharing, First Kiss, First Time, Hate Sex, Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Cas is cursed, (not really MCD but Cas isn't alive in the beginning), Castiel has sex with somebody else in the beginning(and Dean sees it), Heartbreakbut I will fix it! Summary: Dean’s whole life changes when his mother tells him that John isn’t his biological father and he needs to save the world from his sibling Adam, who is the King of Hell. But he can’t do that alone, he needs the best Hunter earth had, Castiel Novak.

Starstruck (WIP) | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 40860 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Slow Burn, Actor Dean, Single Parent Castiel, Pining Summary: From the outside Castiel Novak looks like a regular guy: a good job, two teenage kids, a nice house and a crappy car he’s way too attached to. But there’s one thing no one knows about him: that, over twenty years ago, he used to live next to no other than Dean Winchester – back then a brash and loud-mouthed boy and nowadays a huge movie star and Hollywood’s sweetheart. Castiel never bothered to tell anyone about his childhood friend because frankly, who would believe him? Probably even Dean himself already forgot about his former awkward and weird neighbor, so Castiel seriously doesn’t see any point in mentioning the whole thing ever. But then an interview on national TV happens where Dean reveals way more about his past than ever before … and Castiel - as well as the rest of the world - suddenly realizes that he left a much bigger impact on Dean’s life than he originally thought.

Letter to Dean Winchester (WIP) | @castielsangel-blade

Rating: Mature Word Count: 44182 Main Tags/Warnings: Past Lisa/Dean, Past Aaron/Dean, Past Castiel/Dean, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Mentions of Past Cheating, Mentions of Past Toxic Relationship, Gray Romantic Castiel, Asexual Castiel, Epistolary, Bisexual Dean Summary: Castiel writes and sends a letter to Dean Winchester. He wants closure for the toxic relationship they had in high school.

Falling Apart | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 49204 Main Tags/Warnings: minor character death, sam deceased when fic starts, alcoholism, drug misuse, addiction, rehab au, soulmate au, flashbacks, ptsd Summary: Sword & Cross Resident Rehabilitation is a last-ditch effort for Dean Winchester to move past the drug and drinking problems he developed to bury his guilt over the fire that killed his brother. Not to mention the wild visions and smoky, sentient shadows that have plagued him his entire life. It's supposed to be the best Savannah has to offer, but one look at the crumbling tile floors and dangling crown mouldings, and Dean has his doubts. Enter Castiel Novak. He’s rude, aloof, and a total dick from the moment they lay eyes on each other but Dean can’t help but feel a mysterious connection to the man. Maybe he really has lost his mind. But when Castiel starts making appearances in Dean’s vivid visions of the past, he knows there is more to their link than meets the eye. Even if Cas keeps telling him otherwise. It seems everyone at Sword & Cross knows what’s going on except for Dean. Trying to conquer his mountain of guilt and doubt and figure out the connection he is certain he shares with Castiel is only made harder by the “accidents” that seem to follow him. Not to mention his attraction to Gadreel. Whatever secret Castiel is trying so hard to keep, Dean knows he has to uncover it.

Will you be my ten inch hero? | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 57468 Main Tags/Warnings: Bullying, Homophobic Language, Abusive John Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, giving a baby to adoption (not between Destiel), Rape/Non-con Elements, John kicked Dean out, Virgin!Dean, surprise guest appereance, Minor Crowley (Supernatural)/Bobby Singer, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Minor Rowena MacLeod/Gabriel, two surprise pairings, not Ketch or Mick Davies friendly Summary: When John Winchester kicks Dean out, after he saw him kissing another boy, and Dean sees that Sam has a perfect life at Stanford without him, Dean starts a new life in Santa Cruz. He works at a tiny shop as a cook, has found some friends there, and is overall happy enough. That changes when Castiel comes into his shop and his Co-worker Azara, who has a different man every night, starts flirting with him right in front of Dean. Not that he would be jealous or anything, but there is something about Castiel that makes him weak in the knees. Only that Castiel would never want him back, right?

Roll With It | @saltnhalo

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 72818 Main Tags/Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Secretary Dean, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, The Proposal AU, Alternate Universe, Romantic Comedy, Romance, Editor Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Sam Winchester at Stanford, POV Alternating, Geek Dean, Russian Castiel, Sharing a Bed, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Misunderstandings, Tattooed Castiel, Love Confessions, Slow Burn Summary: For two years, Dean’s been slaving away beneath his boss – many label him a secretary, but he fucking hates that and feels like it only applies to someone wearing a pencil skirt, so he insists on his title of Executive Assistant. And for what? In the vain hope that one day he’ll manage to become an editor for Sandover Publishing, and that he’ll see the manuscript that he’s slaved over since college finally realized in print. That’s the dream, anyway. Right now, he’s fucking late. Dean wants to be an editor. Castiel just wants to stay in the country. ‘The Proposal’ – as you’ve never seen it before.

When the Magnolias bloom (WIP) | @flurryflair

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92951 Main Tags/Warnings: slow burn, angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, human!Castiel, divorce, infidelity, middle aged destiel, explicit sexual content, top Castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, top Dean Winchester/bottom Castiel, POV alternating, unresolved sexual tension, denial of feelings, porn with feelings, anxiety attacks, manipulative relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, canon-typical violence, case fic, bisexual!Dean, demisexual!Castiel, semi-canon, minor Castiel/OMC, minor Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden Summary: It's been ten years since the Apocalypse. Ten years without talking, without knowing one another. Castiel has a company to handle and a wedding to plan, Dean has a broken marriage and a decision to make. They have separate lives, lovers and families of their own, they aren't supposed to meet again, to mess it all up. And yet they do, when they least expect it, and maybe when they most need it. A story about second chances, about hope and resilience, and a love that feels both doomed and inevitable.

Unsung Melody (WIP) | @toomanyships-sendhelp

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 177617 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Character Death, AU Slaves, Slow Burn Summary: Dean runs a busy bar and grill in Lebanon, Kansas. Semi-retired from hunting, he'll still catch a case when one blows his way or the urge to hunt strikes him again. It isnt until a case that opened decades ago claims another victim and Dean has to get back in the game a little more than he expected.

[the-satellite]

Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

 I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

 Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!! 

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

 I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

 Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

 Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

 Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

 The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

 Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

 The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

 Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Handler Todd and 435689: Papers

Here are the results of my live-write exercise! It was super cool! That was a lot of fun and I hope the process was an enjoyable for you guys as it was for me to have you hang out and chat with me while I worked!

CW: Referenced whump of a minor (minor is not whumped during piece). Pet whump, institutionalized slavery. Some gross language regarding said minor. Character is 16. 

“I don’t get it, ‘689.” Todd’s voice was weary, and the boy looked worriedly up at him, struggling to keep up with the taller man’s much longer strides - especially with the way he couldn’t quite put all his weight on his feet leg just now and had to kind of hop-walk down the hall just behind him. “Why bother? You don’t even know that other one’s number, and he had to be at least five years older than you.”

The boy swallowed, hands moving as though they would shove themselves into front pockets, but there weren’t any pockets in the black cloth shorts that were the only pants the boy ever remembered wearing. Finally, he just let them hang awkwardly down at his sides. “Is… is that a question, Handler?” He asked, keeping his voice pitched low.

“What? Yeah, ‘course it is,” Todd said, his eyes scanning the hallways as they walked.

Everything looked the same to the boy - it was always white, and nothing changed. It felt like they went a different way every time they took him somewhere - to the handlers’ training rooms, to the Clean Room where the boy learned to scrub floors until the grout shone white, to the Bad Room.

The handlers didn’t call it the Bad Room - the trainees did.

They kept the Table in the Bad Room.

“What, uh…” The boy cleared his throat, his voice kept trying to shake whenever he had to put his right foot down to walk. The handler didn’t notice, but the boy didn’t mind - they were always hurt, the handlers probably just assumed they were unless they were told otherwise. “What’s the-... the question?”

Handler Todd finally stopped, letting out a low sigh and turning to look down at him. “You are the shortest fucking Box Boy I’ve ever seen, and you’re definitely the youngest. Why’d you stick your neck out for someone who’s bigger, older, and stronger than you? You could’ve been seriously hurt, kiddo!”

The open concern in Handler Todd’s voice felt… so good. It felt so good to hear someone worry about him. Handler Todd was the only one who ever did.

“Well, he… he needed help. He didn’t mean to trip like that, it’s just, you know… we get so cold, here, it’s hard to walk. They shouldn’t have… punished him. It was just an accident.”

“‘689…” Handler Todd sighed again, and something about the way he did it sounded so familiar. It rang a bell in the boy’s mind, warm arms around him and that same soft sigh. He could almost hear a voice that went with it, if he tried.

Almost - but the headache got him, first. The boy winced, and the moment was gone.

“Look. I’m… I’m doing what I can to keep you off the radar of some of the… other guys, but you gotta help me out, here.” Handler Todd put a hand on the boy’s shoulders on either side, and he looked up into Todd’s eyes, his kind face, and he thought, I wish all of us could have handlers like you.

“I don’t like that they hurt us, though,” The boy said, setting his jaw. “That’s not fair.”

I don’t know who gave you that stubbornness, it sure didn’t come from my side of the family.

Headache again. This time, Handler Todd caught his wince and put a hand up to the side of his face, cool and calming. Training took over, and the boy leaned heavily into the touch, pressing his head into it like a cat.

Handler Todd jerked his hand back and away. “Shit. I forgot you guys do that, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Do what?” The boy blinked, confused. “What… what did I do?”

“Uh… nothing. No, you’re good, ‘689. Look, I figured… I know that you’ve had a rough few weeks, and I thought… I don’t know.” Something passed over Handler Todd’s face, a shadow of sadness the boy didn’t understand. “I thought you could maybe use a break. For a while.”

The boy stepped closer to Handler Todd instinctively, crossing his arms in front of himself. His right leg burned but he forced his weight to rest on it, to prove that he wasn’t as hurt as he looked. The cane wasn’t so bad, there were worse ways you could get punished. “I’m okay,” He said, making sure to put a little hint of a plea there, a whine. The handlers liked when you sounded like you were begging. “I don’t need a break, sir, I’m, I’m okay. I don’t want to go back to my room, I can keep training, I can-”

Handler Todd swallowed and backed slightly away from him, but the boy followed him, trying to press into his space a little, to show that he was fine. “No… hey. No, kiddo. Look, you just-... can you just stay at arms’ length for a sec? I don’t mean go back to your room, I promise.”

“Can I… can I sleep on a mat? In the training room?” The boy brightened at that. That was a special reward, you only got to sleep on the heated mats in the training rooms if you did really, really well that day. The boy couldn’t remember the last time he’d done more than doze, really, he was never good for long enough.

They were always hurting some other trainee, and the boy was always trying to stop them.

“I can do you one better, kiddo,” Handler Todd said, his own expression softening into a slight smile as he saw the hopefulness on the boy’s face. “I can take you outside.” He pointed to a door with a passcode lock at the end of the hallway. It looked exactly like every other door the boy had ever seen, with AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY written on it.

The boy could still read - he knew some of the others couldn’t, any longer, but he could.

“Out… outside?” The boy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he gnawed nervously on his lower lip, looking at the door again. It didn’t look like a door to outside… and they all knew that outside wouldn’t ever happen until you were bought. And even then your owner might decide to keep you locked up and that was okay, too, because you only existed the way they wanted you to…

“Truly. I promise. Look, I had to… call in a couple favors to make this happen, but… you’ve earned it, kiddo.” Handler Todd hesitated, that weird sad look on his face again. “Shit, you know, there’s… there’s more of you who deserve a good fucking day outside without any of this bullshit than I, I knew… but fuck. You know?”

The boy blinked at him. There was a silence.

“... right, no you don’t. Okay. Look, I’ll try and explain a bit more once we’re out there, okay? Just close your eyes.”

The boy obediently shut his eyes and lifted his chin, just slightly, but all the handler did was take him carefully by the wrist and lead him down the hall, moving more slowly this time. The chill air that came through the vents, endlessly recycled and recirculated, smelling stale and musty, made the boy shiver. He was never anything but cold here, except when Handler Todd would hug him sometimes. Nobody else hugged him.

Don’t mind us, the weird voice he heard sometimes said, somewhere far back in his mind, behind the wall they’d built inside him. We’re all huggers in this family.

He had to stop this or his headache was going to get really bad. The boy focused on his steps, the twinge of pain up his right leg, the ache in his ribs from getting kicked, the way his back throbbed from being caned there, too. If he focused on the pain they gave him, he could forget the pain in his head, and forget what the pain tried to bring with it.

Handler Todd’s grip on his wrist, though, was warm, and not too tight - Handler Todd never hurt him, ever, even when he was angry and defiant and deserved it - and the boy smiled, faintly, as he was led.

Then he heard the soft beeping of the passcode - three short beeps, two long ones, although he didn’t know why or what it meant - and the metallic sound of Handler Todd turning the long handle on the door.

A blast of heat.

The boy didn’t think he’d ever felt hot air before.

Then the light hit, turning the black behind his closed eyes a kind of brownish red, and the boy flinched back from it, a soft worried sound deep in his throat. “H-Handler-”

“It’s okay, kiddo. It’s okay.” Handler Todd let go of his wrist only to step up close to him, and the boy melted into his side as quickly as he could, chasing the safety. Handlers were safe. They  might hurt you, but it was to make you learn - and besides, Handler Todd never hurt him. He was the safest handler of all of them.

Todd slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders and said softly, “Open your eyes. Blink a few times, kiddo, you need to remember sunlight, it can kind of hurt if you come out from the inside light too fast.”

The boy cracked open one eye, and finally two. The light pierced eyes that hadn’t seen it before, felt hot on skin that was only ever cold, now. The world around him began to come into some kind of focus, and he pushed harder into Todd, worried, eyes darting around at the world outside the Facility.

“Am I… am I allowed out here?” He asked, in a hush.

“No,” Handler Todd said. “So this is our little secret, okay? Just you and me?”

Our little secret.

The boy fought the cold rush of fear at the words. Nobody bothered him, not since Handler Todd started talking to him, but he’d heard handlers say those words before, to the other trainees, and… “What… what kind of secret?”

“Huh?” Todd blinked down at him, confused, then looked back out at the world. “Just don’t tell them I brought you outside, kiddo. I’ll get written up for sure for something like this, and you do not want the Director on your ass for breaking rules. Come on, I want to show you something.”

Todd pulled the boy off to the side, and he stared around himself in wonder. There was a giant parking lot that stretched forever, he thought - or at least until it hit a road, and he could hear traffic but not see it somewhere over that direction. There was a green sign that stood tall above everything else, and the boy squinted at it.

STARBUCKS

What was a Starbucks?

Then they had gone through a small gate to a fenced-in area, and the green sign was gone. Instead… the boy stared around at a small courtyard, with benches and kind of a covered area and grass.

He didn’t realize he had fallen to his hands and knees to feel at the grass until he heard Handler Todd laughing, sort of chuckling to himself, as he closed the gate behind them. “It’s been awhile, huh?”

Grass was spiky but soft, both at the same time. Must’ve rained, the boy thought, and wasn’t sure where the thought came from, only knew that the pain followed in its wake. He slowly laid his head down until his cheek brushed the blades of grass, moving it back and forth, humming to himself.

Handler Todd walked away from him, giving him space, and took a seat up on the table part of a picnic table, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out. He watched the boy moving slowly over the grass, taking a long drag and then blowing the smoke out thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“I think you could put a garden here,” The boy said, then winced. “Ow.”

“Yeah, don’t think too hard, kiddo. I know we take that out of you.” Todd sighed, still smoking, taking quick drags. “Shit, my nerves are shot working here these days. I was okay before I realized some of you are so young, but I can’t just… fucking quit, can I?”

The boy realized after a moment’s pause that Handler Todd apparently expected him to answer. He looked up from inspecting a violet, pressing his fingertip against the soft petals, and said, “Can’t you?”

“Ha. Right. My kids need insurance and there’s no company in the state gives a high-school graduate benefits like this. Plus, I mean, you can’t beat the vacation time, the paid time off, I just…” He trailed off, slowly, and looked over at the boy.

Kneeling on the grass holding a violet he’d picked between thumb and forefinger, the boy wore the white shirt and black trainee shorts and the wide-band shock collar around his neck. He blinked at the handler, then looked slowly around himself.

“What? Did I… is something… is something wrong?”

“No… I mean, yes, but not anything you did. Come over here, kiddo.”

The boy jumped instantly to his feet, ignoring the pain that shot up his right leg - push it back in your head, it doesn’t matter, it’s just going to hurt and you just have to find a way to keep going when it does. He moved quickly to Handler Todd and stood in front of him in Position One, sliding instinctively into the straight-backed posture with his hands behind his back, eyes slightly lowered. “Yes, sir?”

“Look. I didn’t actually… bring you out here because you, uh, got punished today. That was kind of… you definitely need to stop throwing yourself in front of other trainees, but… that’s not why we’re here.”

The boy nodded, slowly, confused.

“Look, you, uh… um. Shit. I’m not sure how to say this. I’m not gonna see you much longer, kiddo.”

The boy’s head jerked up, wide brown eyes focusing on the handler’s, searching for some sign that he was joking, or lying. He stepped forwards, dropping onto his knees on the picnic bench, looking up at Handler Todd, who scooted slightly back, putting more space between them. “Did you… are you leaving, sir? B-but… but no one else is nice, you’re-... you’re the only one who’s nice to me, I don’t get to talk to anyone else…”

“Hey, no. I’m not leaving.” Todd stubbed out his cigarette half-smoked and set it aside, then put his hands back at the boy’s shoulders, rubbing at them gently with his thumbs. “I’m not going anywhere, kiddo.”

“But you said-”

“You are.”

The sun shone hot on his back, made the top of his head feel deliciously warm as it soaked into his dark brown hair. He could smell the earth and grass all around him, and even smell Handler Todd’s cologne, sort of strong and he hadn’t liked it at first, but now it meant safety like no other scent did. “... what?”

“You, uh. You got papers, today.” Todd smiled at him, but it was fainter this time, it wasn’t a smile he meant. Papers meant owners, which was good, but Todd didn’t look like it was good. He looked like… like…

He looked like when you found out your grandpa died, and Mom smiled like this when she said, “At least he’s in a better place,” and you wondered what place, and-

The boy pitched forward, groaning as the lance of pain in his head seemed to ricochet through him, throwing his arms around Handler Todd’s waist and holding tight. Handler Todd leaned forward and slid arms around his neck and held him, too, mistaking his pain for fear, murmuring soft comforting things while the boy tried to stop the aberrant thought from digging its claws too deep.

“Who bought me?” He whispered into Handler Todd’s shirt collar, the rough scratchy fabric that he hated but kind of liked, when it was Todd. “What are they like? Are they gonna be nice to me?”

Todd took a deep, deep breath. The boy felt him drawing the air slowly into his lungs, holding it, and just as slowly letting it out. His arms tightened around the boy’s shoulders, drawing him up a little bit so he was standing on his knees on the bench, his head tucked into Handler Todd’s neck. “A man bought you as a gift for his friend.”

The boy nodded, slowly. This was why he was here, what he was made for, to go to an owner at the end of training. He should be happy about it, but he felt cold, instead. Scared to leave Todd, and scared to leave the white room and the hallways, scared to leave the rules he knew and go live in a new place with new rules he didn’t.

“I’m still… I still get to be a Domestic, right?”

“Right. You’ll be her Domestic. Just like we talked about, just like training.”

“But… I’m not done with training.”

That deep breath again. The boy pulled back, chanced a look up at Todd’s face, and caught an odd glittery look in his eyes. “I know,” Todd said gently. “I know you’re not. But the, um. The order was to send someone… unfinished.”

Confusion, again. Pets weren’t supposed to ask questions, but the boy was pretty bad at remembering that rule, and Todd never punished him for talking too much like the others did, so… he thought it was safe to ask one more. “Why?”

Todd opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. “You’re a fighter,” Todd said, finally. “You fit the profile. Young, dark brown hair and brown eyes, pale skin, and… defiant. The man who bought you wants to give his friend a, uh… someone who will be defiant to her.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” The boy said, in a voice just above a whisper. “We’re not supposed to be defiant. I’m, I’m bad when I talk back, it’s bad that I can’t stop… why… why would they want-”

“Look,” Todd cut in, and the boy flinched, ducking his head down. “Shit, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not mad, kiddo, I promise. Hey. Hey, look at me. Look up at me.” The boy slowly raised his eyes, and Todd took his chin in his fingers, keeping his head tilted up to make eye contact. His voice went low, and soft. “I’m not mad at you. This just… I’m just mad that you’re being sent off on purpose when you’re not done, and that my complaint went nowhere and I’m kind of worried about some shit I didn’t realize was in my contract, and… I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Is it that I get to finish learning with my owner? Is that why?” The boy guessed, and thought maybe he’d guessed right when the shadow passed over Todd’s face again, and he didn’t answer. He just pulled the boy in closer and held onto him. The faint smell of cigarette smoke clung to his shirt and his skin, and the boy kind of liked it, on him.

“Yeah,” Todd said, finally, resting his chin on the boy’s hair. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. Maybe she just wants one-on-one, she hasn’t… done that in a long time. She probably doesn’t know how young you are. Shit, no, she does. I’m sure she does, because she knew they did that to you, she knew it and she told me I was making too big a deal out of nothing… fuck.” He sighed, and the boy wondered how many ways there were to sigh, because it felt like Todd knew all of them.

“So it’s, it’s a woman?” The boy frowned, trying to piece together what Handler Todd was saying, but none of it made any sense. A man bought him for a woman, because he wasn’t done, because he was defiant, but the woman knew about it, and knew about… something…

When the boy tried to think about it too much, the headache threatened around the edges, along with an awful rolling fog. He closed his eyes tightly, and forced himself to forget.

“Yeah… well, kind of. Or some kind of fucking predatory lizard wearing a person suit,” Todd muttered, bitterly.

“... what?”

“Nothing. Nothing, kiddo. I just, you know, I don’t… know what it’s going to be like, when you go home for the first time. So I thought maybe you would, uh, just like to see somewhere kind of nice for a while. But, hey, she’s already got two others, so you’ll have friends, right?”

The boy knew the answer to this one, and the words rolled instantly off his tongue, effortless and easy. “Pets don’t make emotional connections with other pets, they are designed to connect with their owners to the exclusion of-”

“Okay, okay, okay, quit it. I don’t need to hear that. I know you know it. But that’s a lie, pets get attached to each other all the time. We don’t like the owners to know it, but…” Todd shrugged. “Talk to your other ones, when you get there, okay? They’ll help you settle in and learn what to… what to expect. From her.”

The boy nodded, relieved. He could learn from them, and maybe he could be good enough that whoever she was would like him.

“Hey, um… sir?” He twisted his fingers into Todd’s shirt, slipping into the space between two buttons along the front and feeling the rough cotton against his fingers. “Can I… can I ask… something?”

Todd didn’t move away from him, this time, and the boy had never felt so warm in his life - being held by someone in the sunshine, out in the fresh air. He was warm inside and out, even with his fear, even not knowing who he would go to.

But you had to go to someone eventually.

What else was he even made for, if not that?

“Sure, kiddo. Fire away.” Todd’s eyes kept skipping down to the half-smoked cigarette, itching to pick it back up and light it again. The boy followed his gaze, frowning slightly, and then he pulled back, reaching across Todd’s leg to pick up the cigarette himself.

Handler Todd stared at him as the boy picked up the lighter, too, and flicked it open, thumb effortlessly pressing the little pad there just right to bring up the flame. “Since when do you fucking know how to do that?”

The boy put the end of the cigarette against the flame, then blinked and looked up. “I don’t know.”

Todd took the cigarette, and laughed - but it was barely a sound, and hardly a smile, and the boy didn’t really think it was a laugh he meant at all.

“Ask me your question, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Do I, um.” He watched the cloud of smoke as Todd exhaled, stinging his eyes and making the boy cough. Todd apologized, clapping his back until he hit a sore spot and the boy winced at that, too. Finally, his voice a little strained, the boy said softly, “Do I still get to see you, when I go home?”

Todd was silent.

In a tree nearby, a bird sang, and the boy thought, yellow bird with black wings, 9 letters, starts with G. Ow.

“... no, kiddo,” Todd finally said, and when the boy’s mouth trembled a little in response, Todd kept his eyes firmly turned away. “That’s not… that’s not how it works. Look, I shouldn’t have been doing this anyway. Half my coworkers think I’m fucking you, for Christ’s sake.”

“... half your coworkers don’t have much r-room to talk,” The boy said, and felt heat burning behind his eyes when Todd looked at him, surprised, and smiled.

“Shit, kid. I think when you come in so young you’re more resilient, more of you sticks. Hold onto that for me, yeah? Maybe… maybe her other ones will be nice, that’d be good for you. Look, I… I’m sorry this shit turned out the way it did. I wouldn’t work here if I’d have known they were taking you guys in against your will. Not that me not working here would fix your problems…”

“I, I want you working here, though,” The boy said quickly, a little desperately. “You’re nice to me, nobody else is nice to me. I want there to be nice people here, for us.”

Todd groaned and leaned forward, slowly resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. The boy held onto him tightly, tears burning in his eyes even though he was supposed to be happy, because… because Handler Todd had made things a little better, and he kind of didn’t want to go home.

“It’d be easier for you all if none of us were,” Todd mumbled without raising his head. “Jesus fuck, kid, this job is fucking killing me. I’m helping you kids out the best I can, but there’s nothing I can do, and I hate that I can’t… just go, either. I just… I can’t think of anyone worse than the goddamn Director to own a kid as good as you.”

The boy’s heart froze.

“... the Director?”

Clicking heels on cold tile floors. Awful eyes, that bright red hair. Smiles that never seemed like more than muscles moving to try and fake an expression she didn’t really feel. Black cane in hand with a silver tip.

Are we going to have a problem, 435689?

“... shit,” Todd said, just as the boy pulled back, jerked himself back all at once, lost his balance and collapsed backwards off the bench onto the ground, scrambling back in a panic. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to-... I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, kid, shit-”

“The, the… the, wait, no-... but, but she can’t-...” The boy’s throat constricted, he could feel the way she looked at him, the weight of her eyes because she only showed up when he was at his worst and then, and then… “The Director is who I go to?”

The fear built and built and built inside of him, pressure that threatened to shred him apart, and finally the pressure broke. The boy curled in on himself in the grass and opened his mouth in a scream, but he couldn’t find the breath to make the sound.

Everyone was scared of the Director - everyone.

In a place where everyone hurt you, the Director hurt you the worst.

He made the face into the ground, he didn’t know for how long, trying to breathe in the scent of the soil and the grass again to calm himself, but all he could think of was the Table, when he was really bad and kept hurting handlers trying to get out, and they brought her.

Click, click, click click, heels on tile floors, and some of the boys that went with her never came back to their rooms.

Todd gently laid a hand on his back, and the boy jerked back and away from him with a cry, half-convinced it was her, only to look up into Todd’s worried, kind eyes.

Not kind enough to save him.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“I don’t want to go with her,” The boy whispered, and was surprised to find there were already tears on his face. He wiped at them hurriedly with grass-stained fingers, leaving a little green streak along one cheekbone. “I don’t want to be owned by her. I don’t want-”

Todd glanced up and beyond him, out towards the parking lot, and his jaw set in a grim line. Then he looked back at the boy and said, in a slightly harsher voice, “Want isn’t important for you.”

“Hey, Todd, what you got in there?” Another handler’s voice called, too close, and the boy flinched forwards into the arm Todd slid effortlessly around him.

“Just snuck this one out for a while,” Todd said, a smile in his voice, a mean one. The way the other handlers smiled. “Gets a little loud in there, you know? Plus, I needed a cigarette and I wanted something to look at while I smoked.”

“Ha, fair enough. You better get back in, though, we’re due for one of those meeting things again.” The other handler swung the little gate to the courtyard open, and the boy cringed back into Handler Todd’s side at the look in his sparkling dark eyes. “Oh, pretty one. I’ve never seen him before.”

“You don’t exactly work with these, Manning. Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll drop him off at his room.” Todd got to his feet, pulling the boy up after him.

The other handler grinned at the sight of the boy pressed against Handler Todd’s side, staring at him with frightened eyes. “Didn’t have you pegged for this to be your type, Todd.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t know shit about me, Connor,” Todd snapped, pulling the boy right past him to head for the door. “Next time, don’t interrupt me with one of them, yeah?”

“What the fuck ever, man. Don’t get so fucking testy.” Connor gave a low wolf-whistle, then laughed when the boy flinched again at the sound. “He’s neat. Man, I would happily pull overtime for that-”

“He’s sixteen years old, Manning,” Todd said flatly.

There was a long silence.

“Okay, never mind that. I’m fucked up but I’m not that fucked up. I mean. You are, but-”

“Shut up.” Todd pulled the boy back inside, closing the door behind them right in the other handler’s face. “There, now he’ll have to go around to the front.” He turned to look at the boy, tilting his head, lifting his hand to wipe the grass stain away with his thumb. “You okay, kid?”

“No,” The boy said, in a very small voice. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m okay.”

“Yeah… that’s probably not the smartest question I could ask.” The air was already beginning to chill the boy’s skin, wiping away the warmth he’d had from the sun and from Handler Todd’s arms around him. He’d felt safe, for just a second, and now he felt like he was about to be pushed off a cliff. “I guess what I mean is… is there anything I can do for you, before you go back to your room?”

“Help me,” The boy said, softly, looking up searchingly into Todd’s eyes, grabbing onto his shirt again. “Help me not go to her. I don’t, I don’t want to go home with the Director. Get me s-someone else, someone else can, can buy me, right? Someone else?”

“Man already paid his balance upfront,” Todd said softly. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m sorry.”

The boy felt goosebumps break out over his skin, the first real shiver of chill from being back in the frozen air. He hadn’t realized until Todd had brought him outside what it even felt like to not be shivering anymore.

Suddenly, the boy hated Todd more than anything, for taking him out there and then telling him he was going home with the Director. Todd had ruined the sun, and the grass, and the bench and the sign across the street, he had ruined all of it.

Why be nice if you were only going to do the worst thing of all?

“I want to go back to my room,” The boy said, lips moving numbly, pushing sound out, but he was only dimly aware of it. “Take me, take me back to my room, please.”

“Are you sure? I could maybe get you time for a nap while we do our meeting, on the training mats-”

“I want to go to my room,” The boy said again, his chest tight and heavy, heart pounding. “I want to, I want to be alone in my room now, please. Please just, just take me back to my room, I want to go to my room, I want-...”

I want to go home.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want this.

I want my life back.

“Kid, calm down, it’s not going to be that bad-... no, shit, that’s not-... fuck. Okay. Look, if you just-”

“Fuck you!” The boy shouted the words, and heard them echo down the hall, before he even understood he had spoken. He clapped his own hands over his mouth, eyes wide as he stared up at Todd, breathing in gasps.

Todd stared at him wide-eyed. He didn’t look mad, or even upset. He just looked… surprised. “What?”

The boy’s hands slowly dropped when no punishment seemed to be coming, and he swallowed, hard. “I, I said… I said… I said fuck you. You, you think you’re nicer but y-you’re not, because you… you just-... you make me remember people can be nice but you don’t help me!”

“I, I can’t, kid, I have to think about my family-”

“I had a family, too!” Todd grabbed at him and the boy tried to push away, but the handlers were always so strong, and he was crushed against Todd whether he liked it or not, trying weakly to push back, finally giving up and burying his face into Todd’s shirt, feeling it go slowly damp as he cried. “I had a family, too, why do you get a family but I don’t?”

“Shit,” was all Todd said.

But he held him, and it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something.

They stood there - the boy didn’t know how long - until his crying calmed down, until he was breathing the smell of cigarette smoke and cologne and it was a good smell, the only good smell here, and the boy didn’t feel any better for shouting.

He just felt… empty.

And scared.

“Will you still come visit me and, and be my handler, until I… go?”

He felt Todd nod against his hair, the arms around him tighten again. “Yeah, kiddo. I will. I’ll be the last handler you see before they put you in your box, okay? I promise.”

The boy didn’t feel any better to hear it. But at least he didn’t feel worse.

“I don’t want this to be my life,” He whispered.

“Yeah… yeah. I know. Come on, let’s get you settled back in, if I’m late my supervisor will have my ass handed to me on a plate.”

I don’t give a fuck about your supervisor.

The boy kept his thought behind his teeth, because you weren’t supposed to talk back, or complain, or be sad. You just were.

“Look, what’s… what’s something you want that I can get you, huh? I’ll bring it to you after the meeting’s over?” Handler Todd began to help him move back down the hallway, keeping a hand on his lower back, the only part of him that felt warm when he walked.

He could ask for pain medicine for his leg, or he could ask for a pillow - he hadn’t been good enough for one, but…

There was only one thing he wanted.

“Can I have a granola bar?”

“Yeah, sure, kid. That’s all you want?”

No.

I want my fucking mom back.

[problematic-nova]

This time, my rantings on the morgue scene. I know I'm far from the first person to say "what the fuck" to this one, so a slightly different flavor of commentary on chapter 2. AKA, "the only thing worse than what John did to Sherlock is what the writers did to John's character:"

In a more well-constructed narrative with a coherent arc in mind, I actually think the could've worked. It shows very well how abuse actually /starts/, in several ways. We all have the stereotypical image of a battered wife getting beaten for burning dinner in our heads, but this shows how that cycle actually starts: John, when in an extremely tense situation, under huge amounts of pressure, after unresolved trauma after unresolved trauma was heaped on him, snapped. The first ~three times he hits Sherlock there, it's even because he genuinely is trying to stop Sherlock from hurting somebody else. But then he snaps, and then he can't stop. It escalates further. Abuse is almost never a final, end destination, it's an escalation from minor slights into the more and more unacceptable, and that's what TLD is. It's the end point of the escalation, in how John/the narrative has treated Sherlock as more and more an acceptable target for physical violence:

1. There's the little fist fight in Scandal in Belgravia, played as little more than a shoving match, and instigated by Sherlock. If John needs to be forgiven for that one, then so does Sherlock. Then there's the violence in The Empty Hearse: less lighthearted, less funny, less 'acceptable'. But John was a heartbroken, griefstricken, furious mess, and Sherlock and even Mary were stepping on him at every turn. The violence was unacceptable here, because violence is always unacceptable, but the situation John was in wasn't exactly one that's comparable to real life and the way he was feeling is something none of us can even imagine. It's not okay, but it is very easily forgivable.

2. Then, there's HLV. John never hits Sherlock, here, but he does threaten to, when they're all in the flat together after the shooting. This time, it's absolutely not played for laughs. John threatens to beat Sherlock unconscious, because John is angry, and Sherlock is a convenient target for it-- a Sherlock that John knows is already in huge amounts of pain and is extremely unwell. Sherlock even flinches when John shouts at him. Once again, John is in an unbelievable situation under incredible amounts of stress-- and once again, the narrative seems to suggest that John would be justified. Most alarming, though, is that this time, the stress John is under is not at all Sherlock's fault. But John still threatens to hit him for it, at a point where that could, quite literally, kill him. And while this episode makes John look like a bloody awful and incompetent trauma surgeon in multiple ways (likely because of lack of care in writing the script), in this Watsonian perspective, John knows it. He threatens it anyway.

3. And then we get to TLD. Once again, we have John in large amount of pain and under stress, and once again, we have a very unwell Sherlock. This time, it's not a threat: we have John kicking a completely unresisting Sherlock on the floor until he's coughing up blood. I don't think I need to prove my point about this one.

I don't think I need to prove the point that it's unacceptable, either. If John had treated Mary this way-- Mary, who was canonically very capable of defending herself, and had hurt John very deeply, and done horrible things-- then nobody would question it as abuse. Sherlock being a man does not change that the way John treats him is unacceptable.

My point in laying all that out is that, in a more coherent narrative, that focuses on John's unresolved trauma, specifically his grief and pain after the fall and never getting the true explanation and apology he deserved, and then being treated to a very similar trauma by Mary's deception, this is an arc that actually makes sense. He escalates into the more and more unacceptable, dragged on by trauma of his own, until he crosses the line into abuse. It is a believable and honestly accurate depiction of the cycle of abuse and trauma-- and it's also not unforgivable. TLD is the first time he truly crosses that line, and in a more coherent narrative, TLD could've been the turning point in both their arcs. It could've been where John realized what he'd done, and promised to do better. It could've been where John confronted Sherlock and told him "no, all these plans of yours that just focus on you risking your life and getting hurt don't help me; if you really want to be a good friend to me, /take care of yourself/'. Sherlock and John could've finally had a face-to-face about Reichenbach, Sherlock's hiatus, and Mary's death.

We all know that that wasn't the narrative that we got. Instead, the narrative itself seems to be thoroughly convinced that the beating was justified. Not even because of John's unresolved issues about the fake suicide, because that was never even once mentioned-- but just because Sherlock is Weird and A Cock and says mean things sometimes, it was deserved. That, despite John trying to insist to us otherwise, Sherlock really is a machine, and isn't affected at all: not by being tortured in Serbia, not by being Mary's shooting target, and not by being John's punching bag. Greg, Sherlock's police officer friend that dropped literally everything to call a helicopter when he thought Sherlock needed help, didn't seem to think it was a big deal. Mycroft, and, of all people, MRS. HUDSON, didn't seem to even care. It was literally never addressed again, by anyone. In the Hug Scene, the scene I was expecting to be an apology, /John/ even ends up being comforted by /Sherlock/, with NO MENTION of the beating whatsoever.

The only conclusion to draw is that the narrative agrees with Sherlock: John was entitled.

The beating, if handled properly, could've been a believable reaction to trauma, and if handled properly, it could've been a forgivable one. Instead, it turned into something that betrayed the entire premise of the show. It says that Sherlock probably deserves whatever he gets because he's just a heartless bastard, and he isn't affected by it because he's a machine, and meanwhile, for all that he's meant to be "the heart", John apparently has just given up being a friend and simply beats Sherlock to make him behave. It says that these two bring out the worst in each other and honestly probably shouldn't be in the same room ever again.

Obviously, I'm rejecting that premise in this fic. But it's the story that canon gave us, and that instead of addressing it, TFP swept it all under the rug for the sake of some sort of ridiculous twist ending.

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Lan Xichen runs from the Cloud Recesses

warning for some mentions of violence and minor character deaths. In the end, I went and cut this chapter in two because it was getting out of hand. I blame Meng Yao!

It starts as a pleasant enough day. Lan Xichen is overseeing a class of their youngest juniors, helping them practice their calligraphy. He always enjoys teaching that and seeing the little ones so focused. There’s a few tongues sticking out in concentration, which Lan Qiren would comment on… but Lan Qiren isn’t here, and Lan Xichen is undisturbed. He finds it cute if anything. Lan Wangji too used to do it. Besides, for now it’s more important to have the children focus on their brushwork. They’ll think of their posture later.

Whenever he gets a few seconds without anyone asking for help, Lan Xichen allows himself to think of the letter he needs to write to Nie Huaisang, one that he will send to Lanling rather than Qinghe, since his fiancé will be headed there soon, before coming to stay a while in Gusu. Lan Xichen has negotiated with his uncle to have reduced duties when Nie Huaisang is here. Lan Qiren wasn’t happy about it, but eventually gave in when he realised Lan Xichen would be too distracted to be any good to him anyway. So Lan Xichen has been planning things for the two of them to do, walks in the mountains if the weather allows, more painting lessons if it doesn’t. He’s found melodies from the Qinghe region in the library that he’s hoping Nie Huaisang will be willing to hear. There should also be enough time for at least one trip to Gusu so they can hang out together somewhere different and have a meal Nie Huaisang will enjoy more than the usual fares of the Cloud Recesses. 

And then if Nie Huaisang is willing maybe they’ll kiss again. Lan Xichen is trying not to hope too much for that, his fiancé won’t be as bored as he was at that conference in Nightless City, but still maybe, just maybe…

Just as his thoughts are trailing in a direction they really shouldn't take while teaching, the classroom door opens and Lan Qiren comes in, followed by a very puzzled looking disciple. 

"Class is dismissed," Lan Qiren barks at the children. "Lan Chengfu will take you to the dorms while waiting for further instructions. If you disobey him or cause trouble, you'll be punished later. Xichen! You're coming with me." 

His nephew startles at the urgency in his uncle's voice, but nods and follows him out without questions. Answers still come soon enough, his uncle explaining the situation as they nearly run toward the library. 

"Wen Xu has come to the Cloud Recesses and is accusing us of unorthodoxy. He is demanding that we burn our library and the inner clan's residence in penance." 

"Can… can he do that?" Lan Xichen gasps. "It's ridiculous, we're not…" 

"He also wants you and your brother to come to Qishan for re-education." 

"You mean as hostages. So they've realised after all that they need to strike now…" 

It's everything Lan Xichen has most feared. The Wen deciding to make the first move at their convenience, when their opponents aren't quite ready, when so many sects are still so willing to bend over to avoid war… 

"What are we going to do?" Lan Xichen pants as they enter the library, only to gasp at the scene there. 

A dozen disciples are present, urgently trying to shove as many books and scrolls as they can inside qiankun bags. Lan Wangji is among them, seeming a little dazed by what's happening. He shares their uncle's love of books and academia to a much higher degree than Lan Xichen, and his brother cannot imagine what shock it must be for him to find that someone is willing to have all this knowledge destroyed. 

"Hurry!" Lan Qiren barks. "Sect Leader Lan won't be able to keep him distracted forever! Wangji, go out and keep watch." 

At that order Lan Wangji throws his uncle a pleading look, as if to say there are still too many books to be put away and he simply cannot do anything else.

"Uncle, I'll go out," Lan Xichen offers. 

Before he can take one step, Lan Qiren grabs his wrist to keep him in place. 

"Stay. You'll be the one to make a run for it, if it comes to that. Wangji, do as I tell you!" 

While his brother reluctantly obeys, Lan Xichen feels the air punched out of him. 

"Uncle, surely it should be you who…" 

Lan Qiren shoves a qiankun bag in his hands and pushes him toward the shelves. 

"You're Gusu Lan's heir. If something happens to the sect, it must be you who rebuild it. Your brother and I will stay behind to buy you time to escape. Now get to work. Take everything you can. Quickly!" 

"You think he might…" 

"Get to work!" 

Pinching his lips to keep himself silent, Lan Xichen obeys. He tries at first to to only pick up work directly relating to Gusu Lan's method of cultivation, but that's too slow, it requires too much thinking. He ends up doing the same as the other disciples and just grabbing everything he can. He focuses on that almost mechanical gesture, trying his best not to think about the way his uncle is contemplating their entire sect's slaughter as a real possibility. 

They all work in tense silence for a little while until a commotion makes itself heard from outside. As one they all turn toward the door, freezing when a cry is heard. 

"Sect Leader!" Lan Wangji shouts, voice filled with anguish. 

Without thinking Lan Xichen tries to dash to the door, only to be stopped again by his uncle. This time Lan Xichen tries to pull free because his brother needs him, but Lan Qiren's hold on him remains strong. 

"Everyone, bring Xichen your bags and stay put until I tell you otherwise." 

The disciples meekly obey. Lan Xichen lets them attach the bags to his belt, enough of them to cover all his waist, his gaze never leaving the door. There are sounds of fighting outside now, which Lan Xichen cannot ignore. His uncle has to pull him toward the back of the library like a capricious child, before pushing him toward a window.

“Go!” Lan Qiren order. “I’ll protect Wangji. Don’t come back until you can be sure the Wens aren’t watching, and when you do, come through the mountains, not the main gate. Keep a low profile, stay away from other sects. I don’t think it’d be wise to go to Qinghe until things have calmed down, the Wens are probably waiting for an excuse to come after them as well.”

“I can’t leave alone!” Lan Xichen begs. “Uncle, at least Wangji…”

“Wangji will do his duty. Do yours, and save what you can of our knowledge. Hurry, or they’ll realise what we are doing!”

Even though there’s no time to lose, Lan Xichen wastes a few more seconds by hugging his uncle before climbing through the window and leaving the library.

Running is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but as soon as he’s sure he won’t attract attention, Lan Xichen runs.

Excessive emotion is forbidden, but he cries as he heads toward the mountains, fearful for his brother, for his uncle, for his sect.

Private fights are forbidden, but nobody told that to the Wens waiting at the border of the barrier that surrounds the Cloud Recesses, who attack Lan Xichen the instant he steps out.

It’s not the first time Lan Xichen is in a fight against members of another sect. He’s had chances to spar with Nie Mingjue quite a few times, as well as with some guest disciples. But it was always that: sparring. The Wen cultivators who are after him now aren’t trying to learn or to show off, they’re trying to capture him, dead or alive. Dead more than alive, Lan Xichen guesses from their aggressive movements and his past encounters with Wen Xu. Lan Xichen fights the way he’s been taught to do, strikes and counter-strikes until there’s an opening for a serious blow that would incapacitate his opponent.

In training, Lan Xichen has never taken such a chance to actually maim a person. When the opening appears here, he hesitates for a second to take it, unwilling to spill blood when it goes against so many of the rules he’s been taught. The Wen cultivator he’s fighting at that moment has no such qualms and thrusts his sword under his ribs.

Lan Xichen doesn’t even think. His sword moves of its own volition and slashes at the man’s throat, spraying red around them.

The next one is horrifyingly easy to kill as well, now that Lan Xichen has done it once. The sharp pain on his side helps. It’s them or him and he cannot die, not when his uncle trusts him to protect their sect’s legacy.

-

Lan Xichen spends the next few days fleeing from the Wens. He only eats whatever wild fruit he can recognise, having brought no money with him, unwilling anyway to risk the safety of civilians. He barely rests, fearful to be caught unaware. The wound on his side keeps reopening every time the Wens catch up with him and pull him in a fight. After a week of this, Lan Xichen can feel himself getting weaker and weaker. He thinks he’s developing a fever, though it’s hard to say. He might just be exhausted.

He is flying away after yet another scuffle when it finally becomes too much. He simply doesn’t have the strength to control his sword anymore and falls down to the ground. The pain of the impact leaves him gasping for breath, but since he was flying low to avoid detection, he sustains no injury. He is, however, too exhausted to even try to get up, and so he lays there on the grass, waiting to be found and captured. It should have been his uncle taking away the books. Lan Qiren would never have weakened so quickly.

It takes little time for footsteps to approach. Lan Xichen, too tired to turn his head and look at his assailants, closes his eyes and awaits his fate. He feels a shadow fall over him, but no blows come to him.

“Gongzi, are you hurt?” a surprisingly gentle voice asks. “I was on the road and I saw you fall… do you need help?”

Slowly, Lan Xichen opens his eyes again. Instead of Wen cultivators, he finds a young man looming over him with a concerned expression. There’s something a little familiar about his face, though Lan Xichen doubts he’s ever met him.

“Don’t stay here,” Lan Xichen orders in a rasp. “If they find you, they’ll hurt you.”

The young man’s eyebrows rise high in surprise at this answer, but he doesn’t leave. His expression turns calculating instead. He looks Lan Xichen over, raises his head to look around, then turns his eyes back to the young man lying on the grass.

“Gongzi, if you allow me, I will take you to safety,” he offers. “I’m on my way home to Yunping City, my horse is right there on the road… if I help you, can you walk until there? I’ll help you get on its back, but I fear I don’t have the strength to carry you.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Lan Xichen protests.

The young man smiles at his answer. He has a pleasant smile, Lan Xichen finds, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Let me decide what risks I take,” he replies. “And answer my question. If I help, can you walk?”

Closing his eyes again, Lan Xichen quickly checks his body for any serious injury. Aside from being exhausted and the deep wound on his side, everything is fine.

“I should manage. Thank you.”

The young man doesn’t reply, but carefully helps Lan Xichen sit up. His head is swimming at first from the change of position, but before long and with some help from this stranger, Lan Xichen manages to stand up and even walk. There’s a gentle slope toward the road, which is good because the young man really doesn’t have much strength. He’s a little taller than most ordinary people, but compared to Lan Xichen he is still short, and definitely on the slender side. For some reason, Lan Xichen is reminded of Nie Huaisang… but in fairness, it doesn’t take much for him to think of Nie Huaisang these days.

It’s a bit of a struggle for Lan Xichen to get on the horse, but they manage anyway. Perhaps judging that Lan Xichen’s bright white robes might attract too much attention, the young man takes off his own outer robes and throws them over Lan Xichen’s shoulders before take his horse’s reins to get moving.

It is half day ride to Yunping City and before long, the young man must get uncomfortable with the silence because he starts volunteering information about himself to make conversation. Lan Xichen, although struggling to stay awake, listens and catches the general idea of his saviour’s life.

The young man’s name is Meng Yao and while his mother is of very low origins, his father is a cultivator from Lanling Jin (later, when he feels better, Lan Xichen takes a good look at Meng Yao and guesses who, exactly, fathered him). He tried to join that sect himself, but was rejected because of his mother’s low blood and had to settle for an ordinary life. He now works as a bookkeeper in Yunping City for a rich merchant and is just returning from checking on some issues with an associate of his employer. He’s renting a room in the outskirts of town, and while it is not quite worthy of housing a cultivator, Meng Yao promises that at least nobody will think to look for Lan Xichen there.

By the time they reach the room in question, Lan Xichen can barely stand. They make it up the stairs with great difficulty. The last thing Lan Xichen remembers before passing out is being laid down on a thin bed.

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he finds that his silk clothes have been changed to simpler ones, his headband removed, and his wound has been tended to. The qiankun bags and his sword have been left next to the mattress. There’s a note next to his pillow explaining that Meng Yao had to go meet his employer to report on his journey, but he should be back in a few hours. He advises Lan Xichen to rest, and promises he will bring food when he returns.

Grateful for the kindness of this stranger and still too exhausted to do much else, Lan Xichen falls back to sleep.

He wakes up again after some amount of time to the sound of a door opening. On sheer instinct his hand reaches for Shuoyue but as he grasps the handle, Meng Yao comes in, carrying provisions. The young man freezes in fear for a second at the sight of Lan Xichen ready to unsheathe his weapon, but his expression quickly mellows into a pleasant smile.

“I’m glad to see that gongzi is already better,” Meng Yao says, closing the door behind him. “As you see, I brought food. Here, take as much as you need,” he adds, carefully dropping a filled basket on the edge of the bed. “You cannot heal on an empty stomach.”

“You eat as well,” Lan Xichen replies, taking a small bun from the basket but refusing to bite into it until Meng Yao sits next to the bed and does the same.

The food is different from what Lan Xichen is used to, more seasoned as is typical of the area, but he devours it without protest, only making sure that his host gets his fair share as well. Between this, the tea served to him, and the rest that he’s gotten, Lan Xichen already feels better. When he mentions the idea of leaving though, Meng Yao frowns at him.

“Gongzi, I understand that cultivators heal differently but you are unreasonable,” he says, not quite scolding and yet making Lan Xichen feel chastised. “I understand this house is not what you are used to, but please bear with it for a few days until you can move without worsening your wound.”

“It’s not about your room!” Lan Xichen protests, horrified that he might have given that impression. “Meng gongzi, I am only worried about bringing danger to you, and putting a strain on your resources.”

Meng Yao smiles and tilts his head slightly.

“Gongzi, I’m not so poor that I cannot help you. You… you are used to better things I suppose, but I’m not living so uncomfortably as you seem to think, so don’t worry. This isn’t a hassle at all. As for danger… gongzi, with everything that’s happening lately, I can imagine what sort of trouble you’re in, and I’m not worried. The people who are after you would not come to such a place, and they must be too busy checking that all their hostages are being delivered.”

“What hostages?”

Just like yesterday, Meng Yao’s expression gets calculating again, though this time it retains a certain warmth.

“Gongzi, aren’t you running from the indoctrination?” he asks. When Lan Xichen shakes his head, Meng Yao looks him over and frowns slightly. “I see. You must have been on the run for a bit then. The news is everywhere, even us ordinary folks talk of little else. Apparently, the great Qishan Wen sect has decided that other cultivators were badly trained and needed to be shown better, so every sect has to send all their children and all their junior disciples there. Anyone who resists is killed or taken by force, or so it is said.”

Lan Xichen thinks of Lan Wangji, back in the Cloud Recesses. He thinks of Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang in Qinghe.

Maybe he ate too much, too fast, because he suddenly feels like throwing up. If something happened to them…

“It is only a rumour!” Meng Yao quickly adds, his hand rising toward Lan Xichen's shoulder as if to comfort him, then dropping again without making contact. “The juniors of the sect in Yunping City have gone away, yes, but it was all done without violence. From what I heard, only that great sect in Gusu opposed any resistance and had to be punished, but all the other ones have simply complied. Although if gongzi wishes it, I can try to find more details. My employer deals with the local sect sometimes and they wouldn’t find it too odd if I came to visit.”

“Please, don’t do anything that might bring attention to yourself,” Lan Xichen requests, his dizziness increasing at the idea of what punishment might have been inflicted upon his sect. Wen Xu is known to be imaginative for these things. 

He hopes Lan Wangji is well. If they hurt him while Lan Xichen ran away like a coward… he should have stayed, he should have fought, there couldn’t have been that many of them. His uncle ordered him to run, he had to, but maybe just this once he should have disobeyed.

“I will still pay attention to what’s being said,” Meng Yao replies. “I understand that gongzi might not be comfortable telling me his name and sect. I’m not asking for it!” he adds with a hand gesture when Lan Xichen opens his mouth, either to protest or apologise. “If it becomes necessary, I trust gongzi to share relevant information. Otherwise, I will not probe.”

“Aren’t you trusting me too much, Meng gongzi?”

“You trust me as well, gongzi, don’t you?” Meng Yao retorts, seemingly amused now. “I told you to rest, and you did even though I could have gone to fetch your enemies. I brought you food, and you ate it, even when I could have poisoned it to make you easier to capture. Gongzi should be more careful of strangers. For all he knows, his enemies have offered a reward for his capture and spread his description already.”

Lan Xichen startles at the news, but Meng Yao continues smiling peacefully.

“You already know who I am,” Lan Xichen states.

Meng Yao laughs.

“A description is such a vague thing,” he protests. “It is true that Qishan Wen is looking for someone but if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on such a person. All they’re speaking about is a young man in white with a headband and a wound. But gongzi, aside from the wound, that’s not you at all.”

“Where did you put my headband?” Lan Xichen asks. It did not matter earlier when he still felt weak, but he’s starting to feel naked without it. Not to mention the vague disgust he feels at the thought someone touched it. Even Nie Huaisang hasn’t dared, although Lan Xichen almost offered it in Nightless City, right before his fiancé’s friends found them.

“Is it really important?” Meng Yao asks. “It is very recognisable.”

“It’s an heirloom,” Lan Xichen explains. “It’s important to my family.”

He expects Meng Yao to scold him again in that gentle manner he has. Instead, the young man nods in understanding and shuffles away from the bed so he can lift a plank from the floor. In the space underneath, Lan Xichen catches glimpses of white as Meng Yao digs out his ribbon. Lan Xichen gratefully takes it back and although he desperately wants to put it back in its proper place, he decides instead to roll his sleeve and tie it around his arm. A compromise. The rules say it must be worn, they never actually say where.

Meng Yao nods approvingly.

“It might be safer that way,” he says. “If gongzi allows, I should have enough space to also hide those qiankun bags until gongzi is fit to leave. I would have hidden them already, but gongzi became very agitated when I touched them while changing him, and I feared it would distress him too much if you did not see them upon waking.”

“Meng gongzi is very considerate,” Lan Xichen replies with a yawn he cannot suppress. “I’m sorry, that was…”

“Gongzi is tired, it’s normal,” Meng Yao cuts him with a small laugh. “Go back to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow. I have asked my employer to let me have a few days off to recover from travelling. I will be able to check on your wounds, and to go out for information.”

Although he feels guilty for disrupting the young man’s life so much, Lan Xichen is too tired to protest again. He can only lay down again, and watches as Meng Yao puts away the remains of their meal, then starts hiding away the bags containing Gusu Lan’s knowledge.

“Meng gongzi, before I sleep, I have one question. Why save me?”

Meng Yao shoots him a surprised look, as if it were obvious to him.

“You were this unwell,” he explains, gesturing at Lan Xichen’s body, “and your first instinct was not to beg for help, but to worry about my safety. I figured even if you turned out to be a thief or a murderer, you would not be a bad man.”

Lan Xichen can only smile at that answer as he closes his eyes.

Meng Yao can accuse him of being too trusting, but he’s hardly any better.

The days that follow are odd. 

Lan Xichen cannot help but feel guilty that he is in this safe place, with someone he’s already starting to think of as a friend of sorts, while his family’s fate is uncertain. Meng Yao, against his wishes, has found out that Gusu Lan still stands, even though a large part of the Cloud Recesses burned down. He has also found out that Lan Wangji is alive (Lan Xichen cried in relief) and was only taken away as a hostage, like most young men his age all over the cultivation world. But this leaves as many questions as it answers. Nobody knows what is happening to the hostages in Qishan, and Meng Yao cannot find out how many were wounded or died in the Cloud Recesses.

Sensing his ever growing distress, Meng yao distracts him with chatting, or by asking questions about cultivation. It’s obvious that the subject deeply interests him. It’s equally clear that he knows very little about it, and mostly tried to learn through the sort of fake manuals that sadly get sold as the real deal. As thanks for his hospitality, Lan Xichen sets out to teach him a few basic principles so that at least, if his interest remains in the future, Meng Yao knows enough not to be fooled again by crooks. Besides, it gives them something to do as they wait for his wound to heal.

Lan Xichen feels almost disappointed when at last, Meng Yao decides one day that his wound is now healed enough for him to leave. It has been little more than a week, but Lan Xichen already feels deep affection for the other young man, and he believes the feeling is mutual.

“I do not mind if gongzi stays a little longer,” Meng Yao tells him after giving his diagnosis. “Until it is certain that things are calmer out there.”

It’s tempting, immensely so. Time passes differently in this room, in the company of this new friend. But Lan Xichen has responsibilities out there in the world, and Meng Yao cannot stay away from his own work forever. This respite has come to an end.

“You have done so much for me already,”Lan Xichen says with a sad smile. “I cannot put you in more danger. In fact, I’ll try to leave tonight. I need to go…”

He needs to go to Gusu, his first thought is, but that’s not exact. He wants to go to Gusu so he can check on his people. He wants, also, to go to Qinghe and finally figure out if Nie Huaisang was among the hostages. He prays that he wasn’t, but that would be open rebellion and Meng Yao would have heard about it. All he can do, then, is hope that Nie Huaisang is acting smart and is staying out of trouble, wherever he is.

“Even if you leave, it’ll be dangerous,” Meng Yao notes. “Everyone says it will probably come to war. I wouldn’t be surprised if a number of sects start recruiting soon.”

Something in his tone is almost wishful. Considering some of their conversations and the way they have passed time together, Lan Xichen can only smile.

“You are thinking of trying again to join Lanling Jin.”

Meng Yao startles and looks at him like a dog caught trying to steal a piece of meat before smiling apologetically.

“Gongzi must find me an unsavoury character, wanting to take advantage of such a situation to push for a second chance.”

“On the contrary, I hope this might give you the chance to prove your value. Any sect should be lucky to have a man as clever as you in their rank.”

Meng Yao’s cheeks colour at the praise. He turns away, trying to hide a smile. It’s endearing, truly. Lan Xichen can’t help thinking of Nie Huaisang, so embarrassed at the smallest of compliments. This, in turns, gives him an idea.

“Meng gongzi, must it absolutely be Lanling Jin that you join?”

“It would be… preferable. I made a promise to my mother.”

Lan Xichen winces. That detail, and what he knows of Jin Guangshan’s reputation, tells him more about Meng Yao’s family than the young man probably intended to share. While open on other subjects, Meng Yao tries to avoid talking about his mother if possible, refusing to give any details save to say that she was of low birth. Still, Lan Xichen finds himself comforted in his idea; if he is right about Meng Yao’s father, then his friend should have great potential, enough to make up for a late start.

“Lanling Jin does not easily take in outsiders,” he explains as gently as he can. “But other sects are more welcoming. Meng gongzi, I’m sure you know of Qinghe Nie?”

“I do,” Meng Yao confirms. Then, with only a moment of hesitation, he adds. “Why not your sect though?”

“Mine is sadly as restrictive as Lanling Jin, or else I would offer my help and take you along with me,” Lan Xichen sighs. “But I know well the leader of Qinghe Nie and I know if you come with my recommandation, you will be given the chance you deserve. Sect Leader Nie is a man who will never turn away anyone willing to work hard, and he values competence above birth.”

That gets Meng Yao's attention, his eyes burning even if his smile remains mild.

“Gongzi is too generous.”

“Not at all. I simply believe you can rise above your current circumstances… and it is your wish to do so, isn’t it?”

“Gongzi saw right through me,” Meng Yao admit with a small laugh. “I… I am grateful, truly.”

“As am I,” Lan Xichen replies earnestly, taking the young man’s hands. “Meng Yao, even if our paths must separate for now, I really hope we meet again when you are in Qinghe.”

In answer, Meng Yao gives him the brightest, most open smile he’s shown so far. It makes him look a lot younger suddenly, and once more Lan Xichen finds himself of Nie Huaisang. 

If Meng Yao goes to Qinghe, these two might meet. In fact, knowing Nie Huaisang, there is no way he won't notice a new disciple looking so different from their usual recruits, and he's too curious to stay away. Hopefully, this will translate into Nie Huaisang stubbornly deciding to claim Meng Yao as a friend, as he did with others. 

Lan Xichen has a feeling these two could get along wonderfully, given the chance.

-

Now that he isn't trying to avoid a band of pursuing Wens, the return journey to the Cloud Recesses is far shorter. Lan Xichen tries to be careful and to check he isn't followed, but he encounters no problems. It is still unnerving to take such precautions just to go home. Lan Xichen hates that he has to come to a secret back entrance, hates that he dares not go inside the barrier, hates that he must send a butterfly message to his uncle to warn him of his presence and then hide until Lan Qiren either comes to meet him or gives him new instructions.

He waits for hours, hidden up among the branches of an old tree, until night falls. Somewhere far in a distance, Lan Xichen thinks he can hear the curfew bell, although that might be only wishful thinking. Still, soon after, his uncle crosses the barrier and Lan Xichen quickly jumps down from his branch to meet him.

Lan Qiren, always severe by nature, seems to have aged a decade in the couple of weeks since his nephew last saw him. There’s a deep frown carved into his face which grows more pronounced when their eyes meet. Lan Xichen tenses, fearing that he will get scolded for being gone this long, for his commoner’s clothes, for not wearing his ribbon. Instead, his uncle looks him over once and nods his approval. When they meet again, Lan Xichen will have to properly thank Meng Yao for all his advice on making himself less noticeable.

“I’m sorry for not coming home sooner,” Lan Xichen apologises in lieu of greetings. “I ran into some trouble and had to stay hidden. Don’t worry though, the books are fine!”

“And you?”

“As well as I can hope to be,” Lan Xichen replies. There’s no need to mention his wound since it’s healed. His uncle might scold him for being careless in a fight. "I've heard the Wens burned the library?" 

"I burned it," Lan Qiren corrects. 

Lan Xichen stares at his uncle with horror, hoping that he's suddenly developed a sense of humour. Lan Qiren stares right back, something almost challenging in his expression.

"Wangji and your father were trying to delay them," he states. "Wen Xu lost patience and tried to strike Wangji, but your father took the blow for him and fainted. By the time you'd been sent out, Wangji was on the ground as well and Wen Xu gave me an ultimatum : the library or my nephew." 

"Uncle, I'm… I'm sorry. It must have been a hard choice." 

"It was not hard," Lan Qiren assures him, challenging again, as if he’s had to defend his decision more than once already, and will not hesitate to do it once more. 

Again, Lan Xichen stares. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and he wants to hug his uncle, though he dares not. Their uncle is not an affectionate man, but here and there Lan Xichen gets reminded that this is the man who raised his brother and him and cared for them as best as he could, the other parent in their life, the only parent left after their mother’s death. 

"How is Wangji?" he quickly asks, trying to hide his emotion. 

"He only sustained a minor injury, nothing to worry about."

"And yourself?" 

Lan Qiren waves his hand to signify that is unimportant, though his face turns more severe. 

"We are trying to keep this secret for the time being, but news will soon filter out. Xichen, your father died a few days after the attack." 

"Oh." 

Lan Xichen's first thought is an awful one: he's dead, so what? He was never there anyway. 

It is unfilial. So is the fact that Lan Xichen never really bothered to worry about his father. And he knows he should feel sad, or perhaps angry and vengeful, but truly the news just leaves him cold. Lan Xichen hasn't seen his father since the death of Nie Mingjue’s father, and even then they barely talked. In a way, Qingheng-Jun died at the same time as his wife, and was mourned less. 

"Are you going to succeed him?" Lan Xichen asks. 

"Why would I when he has a son who is nearly of age?" Lan Qiren retorts, digging into his sleeve until he finds a jade token which he hands to his nephew. 

Lan Xichen almost doesn't take it, recognising it as the token of sect leaders, passed down from one generation to the next since the barrier around the Cloud Recesses was first erected. It is beautiful in spite of its age, almost as white as snow and delicately carved in a way ordinary tokens are not. It is a sign of leadership in the Cloud Recesses and out of it. Although it has not been seen in years, Lan Xichen knows it will be recognised immediately by other sect leaders. 

"Uncle, I'm not ready," he whispers. 

Not for this burden he only just started really training for. Not for this war that came too soon.

"Nobody is ever ready for these things," Lan Qiren replies. "But you're not going to be alone. I've been there as well, I'm not going to abandon you." 

Not like Qingheng-Jun did to all of them. Lan Qiren has always put most of the blame for their situation on Madam Lan, but his brother's faults were too great to not let him have his share of resentment.

Lan Xichen is terrified of this new responsibility, but he will not be his father. If his sect needs him, he will be there.

"What should I do? If I return openly…" 

"It would be unwise. Let the Wens think we are broken and destabilised a little longer. I don't think Wen Ruohan ever realised how little your father's opinion mattered, so he won’t see that nothing has really changed for us. He's a powerful man in a leading position, and he underestimates the strength of those lesser than him. We'll use that."

Having said that, Lan Qiren shares his plan. 

What the Four Great Sect will choose is important, he has determined, but much like Wen Ruohan they tend to forget the power of those under them. The myriad of smaller sects that exist around them have their own strengths. Some are already in alliances with the Great Sects, but most are fiercely independent and might remain neutral in the coming war, even though the Wens have shown them little mercy in the past. But if someone were to go to them personally and ask for their help, they might be more than willing to join the fight. 

"What if I can't convince them?" Lan Xichen worries. 

"We are one of the oldest sects in the country, asking for their assistance after their children have been taken from them," Lan Qiren retorts. "You have a good reputation among your elders, Xichen. Show them respect, listen to their demands, and I know they will listen to yours. I know you can do this. You've never disappointed me before.”

It is another weight falling on Lan Xichen's shoulder, another responsibility he's not quite sure he can take on. Still, he'll try his best.

He must be worthy of his uncle's trust.

-

Flying tirelessly, Lan Xichen visits sect after sect, starting with those that have a good relationship with Gusu Lan so he can get used to this mission among people who bear him no ill will and are already likely to let themselves be won over. Each time, he starts bluntly by explaining that although none of them want it, war is coming. If the indoctrination camp is not enough to start it, then it is still only a question of time before Qishan Wen goes too far.

It comes as a surprise to Lan Xichen that most of those small sects are more than willing to promise they will join whatever alliance the Great Sects will build. But of course, if for a sect like Gusu Lan it is concerning to see twenty disciples be taken away, for some of those smaller places, that means the entirety of their junior disciples. Some even had to send girls or grown adults to have the right number of hostages to offer. 

Besides, it is hardly the first time that Qishan Wen gave them offence. If things have been rough for the Great Sects in recent years, they have been far worse for the smaller ones. Lan Xichen is told about Night Hunts interrupted, preys stolen, territories taken by force, marriages obtained through threat, and worse things still. Qishan Wen, once, offered itself as the greatest authority in the cultivation world and promised to help settle disputes between lesser sects, but in recent times it has started using that vocation to bully others into paying heavy bribes to have their rights respected, or heavy fines if they cannot defend themselves.

And that’s without getting into those times when cultivators have been simply murdered for standing up to high ranking members of Qishan Wen.

When he gets to Baling Ouyang, Lan Xichen hears one such story from its sect leader. His eldest son happened to be Night Hunting with a friend a few years ago when he stumbled upon a party led by Wen Xu that was after the same prey. Sect Leader Ouyang never found out the exact details of it, but both boys died, supposedly after inviting Wen Xu to join their Night Hunt but tragically underestimating the power of the creature they were hunting. Wen Xu, of course, made sure to avenge them and killed the beast himself.

“And now my second son is in their hands,” Sect Leader Ouyang sighed. “I have little hope of seeing him alive again. The Wens are looking for any excuse to slaughter the rest of us.”

“We have to hope they are wiser than that,” Lan Xichen replies, thinking of his brother, of his fiancé. To lose either of them could break him. It would break him, if he could be afforded that luxury, but he is not his father, he will not let grief swallow him. “But if it comes to war…”

“Gusu Lan can count on Baling Ouyang. I will not miss a chance to avenge my son.”

Lan Xichen thanks the other sect leader for this promise, bowing before him a little more deeply than he should when they are, technically, equals. But he feels for this man who lost so much and yet is still ready to take such risks, and it never hurts to show proper respect to an elder. 

Lan Xichen is about to take his leave, hoping to maybe reach another sect before the day is over, when the door barges open, letting in a small flow of people. Worried about being seen and recognised even in disguise, Lan Xichen quickly hides behind the sect leader’s throne and turns around, wondering how to leave while the newcomers all start shouting. 

"Sect Leader, we're back, we escaped!" 

"Sect Leader, they starved us and took our swords!" 

"There was a giant turtle with a snake head, it attacked us but the Jiangs helped us get out!”

"Where is A-Hui?" Secter leader Ouyang asks anxiously. 

"He's in Lanling with all the wounded," someone answers. "The young masters from Lanling and Qinghe made all the wounded swap clothes with people from allied clans of Lanling Jin to make sure they'd be taken to safety quicker. And then…" 

"Nie Huaisang was there?" Lan Xichen gasps, turning around to look at the returning boys. "Was he well?" 

The Ouyang disciples are so excited that they don't even care about being addressed so casually by what, to them, must look like nothing more than a visiting merchant. 

"Last we saw him, he was heading north with everyone who couldn't get to their sect alone. He's the one who thought to trick the Jins into taking the wounded, and he said his brother would protect them from the Wens. We thought to follow him as well, but we realised we weren't so far from home so we'd be fine." 

Lan Xichen grins at the news, relieved that his fiancé is well. His heart swells with pride to hear Nie Huaisang talked about in such a complimentary way. It is odd to think of him leading anyone… and yet not so surprising at the same time. Someone who can get Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian to somewhat get along with Jin Zixuan can make people do anything. 

"What about Lan Wangji?" he asks. "Did he go North to Qinghe as well?" 

At this question, the boys' enthusiasm suddenly falls. 

"There was this monster…" 

"Wei Wuxian was staying behind to distract it while we escaped…" 

"It was so huge, I think Lan Wangji tried to help and…" 

"The passage became blocked, they stayed trapped inside."

Lan Xichen has to put one hand on Sect Leader Ouyang’s throne to support himself. 

“Where did this happen?” he asks.

“It’s fine, the Jiangs are going to rescue them!”

“Tell me where this happened,” Lan Xichen insists, barely restraining himself from shouting. His brother, trapped with a monster… 

“It was on Dusk Creek Mountain,” one Ouyang disciple quickly explains. “A cave hidden near a banyan tree, but the Wens blocked that exit as well. Sir, do you know Lan Wangji?”

Sensing his hesitation, sect leader Ouyang intervenes.

“This man is from the Gusu area but came here to ask for my opinion on a certain matter,” he tells his disciples. “The matter in question is of a delicate nature. Forget you saw him. Go get your injuries checked if you have any, and I’ll tell the cook to make you something quickly. Out now!”

The boys obey without delay, chatting excitedly about the things they want to eat. Lan Xichen watches them go, feeling numb now that he knows their freedom came at the cost of his brother’s. At least he’s not alone in there, at least he’s with Wei Wuxian who, whatever faults he has, is a brilliant cultivator. If anyone can survive such a situation it is the two of them, and yet…

Lan Xichen wants to break down and cry.

Instead he once more thanks sect leader Ouyang for his promised support, reminds him that his visit and the fate of his father must remain secret, and leaves for the next sect. Whatever happens to Lan Wangji, war is still coming, they still need allies. Lan Xichen cannot be his father, cannot let his emotions stop him from doing what’s needed. He does, however, send an urgent message to his uncle to tell him what he’s learned, every detail of it so that Lan Qiren can organise a rescue mission in case the Jiangs don’t.

The answer finds him a few days later: Lan Wangji was rescued by Jiang Fengmian and has already returned home. In his relief, Lan Xichen allows himself the tears he dared not spill earlier. His brother is safe, he is well, he is home.

Lan Xichen breathes again.

-

Half a month later, in the middle of a market, Lan Xichen starts hearing rumours. He doesn’t pay attention at first, rumours are rarely worth listening to. But as he pays for his meal at a stall, the next client leans toward the seller with a worried expression that catches his eyes.

“Old man, your daughter married a man from Yunmeng, right?” the client asks, which gets him a nod. “Have you heard what happened there?”

“About the Wens? I don’t know if I believe that.”

“You should. I was there the day it happened. I saw some of it. It’s worse than people say. They burned the bodies in front of the Lotus Piers, saw it myself! When I passed by they’d just found a kid who’d managed to hide, stabbed him and threw him right into the fire with the dead!”

Lan Xichen almost drops his meal.

“Was Yunmeng Jiang really attacked then?” he gasps.

“More than attacked, it was slaughtered,” the man retorts. “Not a single survivor. They made people from the town come look as they burned the sect leader’s body and his wife. There’s no more Yunmeng Jiang. And from what I’ve heard, the Wens are now going to take over all that cultivation business. They want to establish offices in every city, and anyone who needs a cultivator’s help will have to go through them rather than other sects. That’s how the fight with Yunmeng Jiang started, I’ve heard. Wen Chao wanted to use the Lotus Piers as his office in Yunmeng, and you can imagine how much the Jiangs liked that. Well, maybe they should have swallowed their pride…”

The man goes on to describe what was happening to the civilians of Yunmeng, but Lan Xichen doesn't linger to listen. Putting down his untouched meal, he quickly leaves behind first the stall and then the market. As soon as he’s out of that small town he jumps on his sword and heads back for Gusu.

Lan Xichen has spent the last few weeks telling people that Qishan Wen is about to go too far, but even he would never have imagined something of that magnitude. War cannot be avoided anymore, and only time will tell if they prepared enough for it.

[samwrights]

Love Bites - Punk!AU [Terushima]

ASDFGHJKL oh my god, these chapters killed me. But we’re finally at the actual show for Elixir--hooray! If you haven’t read the prologue to this mini-series, I’ll leave a link for you right here, and if you haven’t read the previous chapter titled Bricks, you can go ahead and click here. Artwork is not mine so if we can find the artist, let me know so I can properly credit them! 

Lyrics are italicized and sang entirely in your voice.

Warnings: Cheating and Language. Minor mention of nicotine.

Song Used: Love Bites (So Do I) by Halestorm

Word Count: ~3.5k

A complementary playlist can be found  »  here

“Baby, wake up,” is the first thing you hear in the morning, brought to you by the raspy voice of Yūji Terushima. Squeezing your eyes shut as you try to filter out sunlight, you surrender to your surroundings, opening your eyes one at a time to see Teru resting with his bare back on the headboard of his bed. His serene expression gives you heart palpitations. Even more so when you realize you’re just as bare as he is and that you’re cradled into his chest with your arms lazily resting on his stomach with his around your back and that you’re in his bed, rather than the other way around. No matter what transpired between the two of you, it was an unwritten rule that you never stayed at his house. His parents, though they loved you dearly, had no idea what was going on between the two of you and vaguely knew that Terushima was dating someone else. It was harder for the two of you to keep things a secret under their roof, which was why the rule had even been agreed upon in the first place. “We should probably get the van loaded up at some point.”

“Can we have breakfast first?” The incessant rumbling of your stomach adding further validation to your plea. Terushima let’s out a laugh before pressing his lips gingerly into your hair as if you would shatter from the contact. Honestly, the only thing that could potentially shatter your bliss right now was Minami walking into his house right now, and that was far from likely.

Speaking of bliss, Yūji Terushima is on cloud nine. Even after suffering the cold sweats of coming down from his high at some point in the middle of the previous night, he could say with resounding confidence that waking up next to you was probably going to be the pinnacle of his life. It was probably going to come crashing down after this, he figured, as what goes up must come down as it often did for him. Terushima knows his life patterns quite well. So for now, he was going to soak in every second, every inch of your bare skin, for as long as he could. “Mm,” the blonde hums, “not quite yet.”

In a matter of minutes, Terushima has you on your back, suspending himself with locked arms before his lips latched onto yours. The blonde sucked on your bottom lip, taking the flesh between his teeth before snaking his tongue to intertwine with yours. Slow and steady movements that greatly contradicted the man’s persona was his course of action the tip of his tongue traced over every tooth, every fiber of your being, as he commited all of it memory. He had to make sure this was real. Resting on one palm, his free, ink-laden hand travels down your bare body, feeling every curve your and scar that came with life, down to past the dip of your belly button before cusping your cheek. “You’re really here,” comes his broken warble when he pulls away, as if yesterday was a cocaine-induced delusion.

“I’m really here.” You parrot affectionately, mimicking the action he made with his hand to your cheek, though the tip of your fingers graze the dermal on his left cheekbone. “I’m here, and I’m hungry.” A breathy, half-hearted laugh escapes him as he fights the urge to make a sexual innuendo.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go make food.”

“Actually, I should probably go home and shower and get ready.” A pout forms on the drummer’s face at the suggestion, as if letting you leave would somehow change everything that occurred in the last fifteen or so hours. But as his resolve, and his pout, weaken and falter, a devilish grin comes out to play.

“Or,” immediately, you don’t like where this is going, “I make food and you go load up the van, then we get ready at your place.” Subconsciously, your jaw clenches for a brief minute before relaxing once again, finding no flaw in his logic but one.

“Or,” you copy, “you go load up the van and I make breakfast so that you don’t burn down your parents kitchen.”

“Babe, I’m literally a quarter of a century old, I know how to fucking cook.” Yūji deadpans, making you laugh heartily. You don’t believe him for a second. The two of you are up and getting dressed to move about your day, though your leggings and cut off tee are less than appealing to wear at the moment. Not that you ever scowled at the thought of rewearing clothes but you had been sweaty from practice and there were bound to unfavorable fluids on last night’s clothes. Terushima notices the disgusted grin on your face at the thought. He tosses you a clean, spare shirt and some boxers while the two of you dressed as if you weren’t in some strange, domesticated version of the twilight zone.

“Sweetie, I lived with you for four years. You could literally burn water.” After the clothes were on, you stepped towards the drummer, placing a kiss just under his dermal, before flitting off down the stairs towards the kitchen. Whether he wanted to argue who was doing the work, you won solely based off of the fact that he was left stunned in his room at the sight of you wearing his clothes—his boxers, no less. If this was a dream or he was in fact in the twilight zone, please please please nobody wake him up and bring him back to reality.

Despite you never staying over at Yūji’s house before, you knew exactly where everything was, thanks to you being the unofficial mom of the crew. You grab what you need to make a small meal for the two of you, knowing that time wasn’t necessarily on your side at the moment. While it may still be just before noon, there was still so much to do before arriving at the venue at six. Off in the distance, you can hear Terushima disassembling his drum kit in his basement and, for a moment, an ounce of pride swelled within you—he finally remembered to do that first before lugging everything off to the van. It was a small victory, one that hardly warranted praise but, after so many shows, you’d think he would finally remember to make his job easier on himself.

However, the clattering noises begin to fade into the background as your mind wanders into autopilot mode. Sure, you’re cooking food and your hands are occupied, but the once therapeutic activity seemed to take a back burner to what was currently plaguing you. The only thing that could shatter your bliss at the moment was if Minami were to walk in right now. You tried your best not to think of that very scenario as you finished plating up your meals. “Teru, come eat!” You called out from the top of the stairs that lead to the basement. The blonde hustles up the staircase, stopping briefly to press his lips to yours before chowing down on his food.

Minami could shatter your guys’ little bubble of domestic peace, but she would have to go through you first. And you would absolutely be lying to yourself and everyone else if the thought of her fighting you for the drummer didn’t bring you sick satisfaction.

“The vans all packed up,” Terushima announces in between bites. “So I can grab clothes and shit and get ready with you at your apartment.”

“Yūji, you clingy little shit,” you joke, “maybe I want some time to myself!”

“Do you?” There’s a flash of hurt in eyes for a moment, and you knew that you probably shouldn’t have said it. Considering the fragile circumstances, he was still vulnerable after everything that transpired. Terushima was still afraid that all of this was going to shatter the minute you were free of him.

“No, Teru, I was kidding.” You try to convince him, but he’s not buying it. A sigh leaves you as you set down the plate on the island counter you were standing in front of before you look at the drummer with full, earnest eyes. Reading your body language, he does the same before you grab his hands in yours. As if drinking in every charcoal grey line of his tattoos, you trace up the linework starting from the wrist of his left arm, moving in painstakingly slow glances until you followed where they ended at his clavicle before you looked at him square in his almond eyes once again. “It’s you and I, right?” You ask cautiously, echoing the conversation from last night.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then let’s go get ready,” you do your best to offer a reassuring smile, pecking him just under his dermal once again, “finish up eating. I think we need a shower.”

Yūji has finally calmed down, or rather as calm as he could be, after having a long, warm shower with you back at your apartment. Did it make sense for him to leave his home to get ready when the two of you were going to be coming right back? No. But at the moment, a lot of things between the two of you didn’t seem to make sense and that was okay. By the time the two of you returned, Makki and Kuroo were already present, donning confused looks as to why Terushima got out of your car rather than his parent’s home. In lieu of a response, the aforementioned blonde only shrugged before climbing into the back seat of the van with Makki, leaving Kuroo to drive as usual with you in the passenger’s side. Everyone is situated and you and Kurro are holding cigarettes between your lips, but the gutiarist doesn’t move otherwise. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it,” the driver announces after turning the engine, “we’ve known that you two are boning but this just weird. What’s going on?”

“Oh thank god,” Makki breathes out in reprieve, though neither you nor Terushima speak. To be frank, neither of you really had a clue. You knew that he wanted to be with you and you with him, but there was no clear definition in the sense that there were still a few kinks to work out. Minami, for example. “Are you two, like, actually together now?” Your eyes lock with the drummer’s bronze ones, wondering who’s going to be the first to say it out loud. Knowing his insecurities, you decided it had to be you.

“Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

“YES! Cough it up, Kuroo, you owe me fifty!” The sudden crescendo in volume coming from your normally quiet bassist makes you jump.

“Dude, the fuck?” You look at the driver with narrowed eyes. “You bet against us?”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Kuroo defends, “I just bet that you were going to date someone else first because you couldn’t wait for Terushima to get his head out of his ass.”

“Y’all can fuck off,” You grumble before climbing into the back seat. Your anger was satirical, but at the moment, all you wanted was to be curled up with Yūji now that the cat was out of the bag. However, with the van in motion and you being buckled in the passenger’s seat, you decided to sit tight, flicking the collecting pile of ashes out the window before bringing your cigarette to your lips once again. “Now enough analyzing our relationship, we got a show to play.”

In hindsight, you should have known that being with Yūji Terushima wasn’t going to be as simple as “yes, we’re dating now” and that was no fault on his part. If anything, it’s as much your fault because you’re just as reckless and never check for lose ends before committing to anything. And, in hindsight, you really should prepared yourself in the event that Minami attended your show because, considering last nights events, Teru didn’t even think about telling her to fuck off and not show up tonight.

What a mess.

Even more so when the girl immediately flanked to give the drummer a hug before reprimanding him for wearing a tank top. Yes, a tank top. God did you hate her. From what you could hear of the conversation, Minami had told him to grab a spare sweat or jacket or something to cover up his shoddy, apprentice-done, experimental tattoos and that he looked like he rolled right out of bed. The worst was her asking how he could have pride as a man when he showed up to “work” as a slob, and how she was almost embarrased to be here. But she’s playing coy as she says all these things, her lips curling in a flirty grin to attempt to convince him that she’s just teasing. You knew better. Nobody just says that about their partner nonchalantly and if they did, they were just a bit fucked up in the head. “Hey, Yūji, we’ve got to go set up.” Your voice is soft yet direct as you try to all but pry her away from him.

“Yūji?” Minami has never heard you call him by his first name, you realize.

“That’s his name, isn’t it?” The retort left your lips before you could stop it, earning you a nasty look from Minami. It didn’t matter, you decided, before putting a guiding hand on your drummer’s shoulder. “C’mon, we’re running behind.” Without another word to Minami from either of you, you bring him to the back of the venue and into the staging area. He didn’t need to say it, nor was he going to because the sudden anxiety piling in his chest was drowning him, but he was thankful for your intervention. Each comment his girlfriend made cracked his tempermental heart just a little bit further, even if her opinion didn’t necessarily matter to him because he couldn’t help but wonder if you had felt the same way she did. Terushima shakes away the idea instantly. You were the one that always stopped the nagging voices in his head, the ones that told him that if Minami could speak such things about him into existence then it must be true. You were his peaceful meadow in the middle of a storm. Its just another thing he’s indebted to you, he supposed, one he hoped to be able to rectify by the end of the night.

It’s hot.

It always is when you play a show which usually contributed to the fact that you and Terushima always wore tank tops when performing, despite the conversation you heard earlier. Coincidentally, the two of you were matching with white tanks and ripped up black jeans, accented by a thin red tie that had no place being worn except to hide the hickies the two of you had given each other the previous night. It was a coincidence, but was not a detail that the audience, specifically Minami and the other girlfriends, had overlooked. 

“How the fuck is everyone doing tonight?” Growing Pains, the third song in Elixir’s setlist, has just ended, meaning that you were a third of the way through your set. At your question, the audience, which was larger than normal, you gathered at screamed in response. The sheer volume made you smile and laugh with the small fan base that you had as it reminded you that, at the end of the day, whether you four were successful or not, you still touched people’s lives. “That’s what I like to hear! You guys seemed to be having a lot of fun with our newer songs and we thank you for that, but right now we’re gonna throw it back real quick.”

After your brief intermission and the introduction of your next song, Terushima gave his starting count in addition to a few hits on his cymbals, leading the rest of the band to start the snappy rhythm of the next song. As the opening lines begin to swirl in your head while listening for the moment you were supposed to jump in, it dawns on you that this very well could turn catastrophically ugly—the thought excited you.

Don’t listen what your girlfriend says

You had written this song for Yūji so long ago, never once considering that maybe, just maybe, one day performing this song was going to come back to bite you in the ass. And yet, considering Love Bites was one of your most revered and streamed tracks on your band’s Spotify, you can’t find it in yourself to feel an ounce of remorse. Especially as you lock eyes with Minami for a brief moment and you swear she knows. She knows exactly who this was written for, and she knows the war you’re declaring, and she knows you don’t fucking care.

I know a thousand ways to help you forget about her

You couldn’t bring yourself to care about her opinion as you pace around the stage, your hair swinging wildly as you cradle your microphone to add to your stage appearance. For a moment, you take a look at your guitarist, watching the way Kuroo’s knowledge and expertise of the riffs he had played time and time again came to life on his signature Stratocaster. The raven-haired man was grinning, tongue peaking out a little bit and he licked his dry lips—he was in his element.

Love bites, but so do I.

You bring your attention to your bassist, Hanamaki echoing your vocals as you did so. He looked calm as ever with a knowing, glassy look in his stoned eyes. Knowing, in the sense that he could tell you were a little more enthusiastic than usual due to the nature of the song. Knowing, like he was preparing for trouble because he could practically rip the ever growing tension straight out of the atmosphere between you and Minami despite dozens of people standing between you.

You’ve suffered in the darkness I’ll suck the pain right out

And finally, you bring your attention back to your drummer. The matching outfits, that were coincidental, were a nice touch. Terushima is bobbing his head, mouthing words in sync with you as the red tie around his neck is swishing back and forth wildly like a pendulum as he moves. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes, prompting you to give a mischievious smile before transitioning to the second chorus.

I kiss you in a way you’ll never forget about me

Coming full circle, you were faced with the crowd once again. Though the others in the band may not have felt the same way, or maybe they did, you weren’t entirely sure, one of the most satisfying feelings in the world to you besides having Terushima’s arms around you, was watching your audience lose their shit. The way young teens and adults would fight for the front closest to the small barricade of the venue for your attention; the way crowd surfers were thrown on stage, their lips moving in sync with yours as they sing along before flipping back into the crowd in a stage dive; the way everybody was just having a grand old fucking time—there was no greater feeling.

I was down and out, got up and said, “hey love I’ve had enough” I’ve felt pleasure without pain

It wasn’t often you did this—this being you jumping off stage, microphone still in hand, and walking on the safe side of the barricade while Kuroo did his little guitar solo. At the first line of the final chorus, you weren’t even singing; not alone at leasst, and Yūji would be lying if he said it didn’t cause him to panic in the slightest. He knew how crazy the crowds could get and even with security, people could still push on the gates themselves and hurt you and oh god Minami was right at the edge of the stage and what the fuck were you—

The blonde’s mind was reeling as you sauntered over towards her corner off to the side of the barricade but he had never in his ten years of knowing you seen you so confident with your movements as you veered away from his line of sight. Not even in the way you told him you loved him time and time again, not ever in the way you held him countless times while he was in a bad high. You had never been so sure of your actions as you swiped a finger under Minami’s chin, singing directly to her, serenading her.

Love bites, but so do I

You were goading her, aching for her to swing. The fire in her eyes as the realization set in Minami’s little brain—you’d been dying to see it, dying to do it. You’d had enough of the way she treated Terushima, the way she knocked down the most wonderful person you knew. No more. No more taking this shit lying down—he was yours and you wanted to make sure she understood that.

Yūji Terushima: the twenty five year old man covered in shitty basement tattoos with more healed over holes of retired piercings who still lived with his parents so he could live comfortably and chase after teenage dreams, was yours. And as much as you wanted her to react, the song was over and you needed to make your way back to the stage and move about with your day.

As soon as the song finishes, Terushima stands up from his drum set while the audience is giving their applause. As wonderful as it is to hear that sound, he was panicking at the fact that he wasn’t able to see everything happening down below as soon as you had moved out of his line of sight. He’s standing before you, his hands gripping your forearms, eyes in a deadlock with yours to make sure you weren’t hurt. Laughter flickers in your eyes before a smile works it’s way to your lips, thinking of other ways you could make your declaration loud and clear.

If Minami didn’t know then, she knew now by the way you pressed your lips onto Teru’s with your fingers threading into the base of his undercut in the middle of the stage.

[ Bricks « Love Bites » Critical Mistake ]

Let me know how you guys are liking this series so far?

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 8

Chapter Title:  One Swallow Does not Make a Summer

Summary: It’s fine. Everything is fine. (It really isn’t)

Pairings: platonic lamp, platonic sleepxiety lets finally be honest with ourselves

Chapter Word-Count: 6024

Warnings:  unresolved grief, past minor character death, panic attack, crying, panic/anxiety, emotional abuse/gaslighting, dissociation

Previous | Present | Next

AO3 Link

Hi, apparently I don’t know how to write 2k chapters anymore, guys I’m sorry.  Special thanks to @theeternalspace for her continued support for this AU in terms of brainstorming/cheering me on and to @stillebesat who beta’d this chapter, helping point out plot inconsistencies & grammar stuff. 

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

“Hey Virgil, it’s time to get up.”

Virgil grumbled, shifting in his bed, “Don’t wanna.”

A chuckle, “Are you sure? Your dad is making his world-famous pancakes. Better get up before he eats them all himself.”

“Pancakes?” Virgil asked, looking up at last at his mother. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose side ponytail rather than her typical bun. Little curly wisps escaped the ponytail, kindly framing her face. She wore a yellow sweater with a goofy sloth face on it, something that was definitely his father’s.

“I knew that would get your attention, my little poet.” She grinned, affectionately booping his nose.

“Moooom,” Virgil groaned, because he was nearly thirteen and entering preteen angst. He was too old for boops and cutesy nicknames. His parents didn’t quite seem to get the memo just yet.

Mom kept smiling at him, wide and bright. Like she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Virgil demanded, tilting his head sideways in confusion.

“Oh nothing,” She said, hands gently cusping the sides of his face, “I’m just thinking of how old you’re getting and how proud I am of you.”

“For what?” Virgil asked, confused by her words. He knew his parents loved him. They often proclaimed that with words and hugs. He could take being loved. But being proud of him? That was a completely new territory. He hadn’t done anything to earn this sentiment. He wasn’t the Grade A Student or the Star Athlete. He was just Virgil. An anxious preteen who liked listening to MCR. He didn’t get why his mom would be proud of that.

“Because you never give up, regardless of what life throws at you.” Mom said softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I love you, Virgil.”

“Love you too,” Virgil mumbled, cheeks burning as he threw his arms around Mom for a quick hug. Never gave up? He wasn’t sure if that aptly described him. He felt like a colossal coward, one who always ran from his problems rather than face them. Maybe he’d managed to trick his parents into thinking otherwise. A pang of guilt hit him from that thought. Like a dodgeball during recess. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm, grateful feeling that crept inside of him.

Virgil withdrew from the hug and leapt out of his bed. When he reached the doorway, he paused to turn back at his mother, “C’mon! We have to go downstairs before Dad eats all the pancakes, remember?”

 “Oh yes,” His mother said, following behind him, “how could I ever forget that?”

As they descended down the stairs, Virgil could hear pancake batter sizzling and his father’s attempts at singing.

“Just a small town giiiiirl, living in a lonely wooooorld!”

Virgil loved his dad, just as much as his mom. He loved how enthusiastic the man could be. His dad put his whole heart into everything he did. Even if he wasn’t great at them. It was an admirable quality to be sure. It still didn’t mean Virgil didn’t wince a tiny bit from his dad’s screechy singing.

“Please make it stop,” Virgil whispered underneath his breath.

His mom shook her head, looking more amused than anything else. He supposed it had something to do with how they first met doing a duet at a karaoke bar. He heard the story a gazillion times by now, but it never got old. Especially with his father adding new details every iteration. His mom would hover nearby, correcting him in an exasperated but loving way.

“Hello Dearest.” Mom said, startling Virgil out of his thoughts. He looked up to see they were already in the kitchen. Huh. He must’ve gotten lost in his thoughts or something.

Dad gasped, putting a hand to his chest in a playful offended way, “Love, is that my sweater?!”

Virgil’s mom easily towered him by a few good inches. Some people made fun of Virgil’s parents because of that. They said it was weird for the woman to be the taller one in a relationship. Virgil never understood that arbitrary reasoning. Not when his father looked up at his mother like she was his whole universe. His whole sun, moon, stars and everything.

“Is it? I found it lodged in my drawer. Almost like someone hastily stuffed it in there without paying attention to which dresser they placed it in.”

His dad spluttered at a loss for words and Virgil snorted. He couldn’t help it. Not when his dad was a walking, breathing cartoon character. Anyone could read him like a book from his facial expressions alone. He kept spluttering, his eyebrows nearly flying off his face and eyes as wide as saucers. One unsubtle wink directed towards Virgil told him that it was mostly an act on his part.

 “Well, uh, may I offer you in some….pam-cakes?” His dad asked, redirecting the topic from his haphazard attempt at house cleaning.

Pamcakes. A pun on his mother’s name—Pamela. Oh my god, he said that every time. His mom always rolled her eyes at it, lips pressed together to keep from smiling. She was supposed to be the stoic foiling his comedic. Yet it fooled nobody at all. It was why his dad did it every time, knowing she secretly loved it.

Mom rolled her eyes as always before leaning down to accept a kiss from him, “You may.”

“Really? Right in front of my pancakes?” Virgil said, pretending to gag. As a growing preteen, it wasn’t cool to have your parents be all mushy in front of you. Even if he still thought of them as the coolest Mom and Dad ever. They chuckled, breaking off the kiss.

“Virgil, someday you will find someone you love very much and then you’ll understand why I am obligated to kiss your mother every time I see her.” His father grinned, flipping the last set of pancakes on the griddle.

“No I won’t, because kissing is gross.” Virgil said, childishly sticking his tongue out because technically he was still a child.

“Afraid of catching cooties?” Mom teased.

“I know those aren’t real, Mom.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that,” His father said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “The Cootius Amor is a very real disease. I was under the affliction of it, suffering heart palpitations and an upset stomach. You know what saved me?”

“What?” Virgil asked, despite being suspicious that he knew the answer.

“Your mother!” He fake-swooned, taking the pancakes off the griddle and bringing them to the kitchen table. Mom snorted, trying to maintain a calm composure and failing.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you mean ridiculously in love with you.” Dad said, grinning widely when he managed to get an actual laugh from her this time. Then they kissed again, causing Virgil to groan yet again from the syrupy sweetness of it all. But he wouldn’t have any other way. This moment was perfect, a moment he could relive a million times. He knew this, because he had done so.

In this perfect idyllic moment a startling realization hit Virgil. Something he always inevitably realized. Something that he should’ve realized from the start. Something he wished wasn’t true. Because this moment, this shadow of the past, this wasn’t real. He hadn’t been twelve years old for awhile now. A decade almost. The same amount of time since he’d last seen his parents alive and in the flesh. 

This was all just a dream.

God, every time he had this realization it hurt so much. Sometimes he was able to forget his parents were dead. He’d gotten very good over the years at distracting himself. The truth felt far-off in the distance, almost unreal. He envisioned them as simply being elsewhere. Too busy for him to call or visit. As much as that illusion hurt, it was better than simply accepting reality.

Other times, he was forced to be very cognizant of their deaths. The hole in his heart became an expanding void. One that threatened to engulf him whole. Those times he just wanted to lay in his room and just cry. Where all he wanted was their comforting embrace, their words of assurance. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed that. It’d been almost ten years—you’d think by now he would be past the grief.

But accepting their deaths almost felt like a betrayal. Almost as if he believed they were still alive hard enough, then it’d come true. They would come find him and be a family again. If he accepted their deaths, they’d be lost to him forever. He knew it was stupid and didn’t make sense. It still didn’t stop him from trying.

As uncertain as Virgil lived his life, he’d always known without a doubt they loved him. When he made mistakes or failed, they didn’t berate him. Rather, they came alongside him to help him understand and grow past them. So of course fate snatched away the most important people in his short lifespan. He missed them so much.

This was what made dreams like this difficult. Because for a brief moment, everything was back to normal again. They were always so vivid too. He fell for it every single time. It was cruel to gain them back in this temporary sort-of way. As cruel reality crashed into him every time upon waking up. It made him simultaneously want to sleep forever and not at all.

“Virgil, are you with us, bud?”

A hand touched his shoulder, shaking it gently. Virgil didn’t feel it.

“Little poet, your dad and I had a talk regarding your birthday—”

“—tell you something—”

“Virgil, please listen—"

Virgil’s lungs seized up. His breaths came out short and shuddery like a car engine struggling to start. Tears stung his eyes as a harsh sob escaped him. Mom? Dad? He couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Nor was he sitting at the kitchen table, bright light streaming into the window. He laid on a soft surface, his surroundings dark and murky. He was awake.

Awake and with the wound of his dead parents ripped open again. He bit back another sob, sweeping the grief underneath a metaphorical rug. Just like his dad and his cleaning tactics. Maybe Virgil did take more after Dad than he thought he did.

He forced himself to breathe, taking in one shaky breath in at a time. He’d managed to get it mostly under control when an alarm blared. A loud, discordant sound of chaos in the midst of stoic silence. Virgil screamed in fright, hitting his head on something as he jolted forwards. Work—he had work today, didn’t he? Cathy was going to be upset if he was late again—wait no. That wasn’t right. He didn’t work there anymore.

The alarm wasn’t right either. It sounded different than the one on his phone. He glanced around the room, aptly thinking, “Well, this isn’t my room.”

It was dark to discern much, but the one key factor was the window. It had a thick shade better at blocking out sunlight than Virgil’s blanket-duct-taped-to-the-window solution. The bed was nicer, the bedsheet soft and not as threadbare worn as Virgil’s. Where was he?

He couldn’t remember. It was nothing but fuzzy tv static sizzling inside of his brain. Like someone changed channels and he didn’t have the remote to change it back. Oh god, please don’t tell him he drank too much and went home with a complete stranger. He couldn’t handle even the thought of it.

Something shifted above him, causing him to realize this was a bunk bed. It creaked as a blanket dropped to the floor. Or rather, a blanket containing a bundle of something.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Blanket Bundle muttered, slapping a blanket-covered appendage over the Alarm’s OFF button. Virgil inhaled sharply, causing Blanket Bundle’s attention to snap towards him. Fizzy, curly hair spilled out of the blanket, framing a very recognizable face; Remy. He stood there, black shades absent. Virgil had seen him without them before, of course, but it was weird. 

He couldn’t shake the image of Remy with red eyes. Even though Remy currently stared at him with hazel eyes, an unidentifiable emotion within them. His eyebrows slightly raised, his lips curved downwards. Remy almost looked…worried. But then he cleared his throat and with it his expression changed at once.

“Hey Virge,” Remy greeted, casual and cool as usual, “How are you doing? Did you get good beauty sleep?”

Virgil hated that first question. It was too big and ambiguous. Way too much currently for his brain to grasp. Not to mention nobody truly cared about the answer to the question. It was just a thing people were required to ask others. As to the second question, well. He definitely didn’t get good beauty sleep. So he decided to answer neither of them.

“I’m hungry.” Virgil croaked, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice.

“Breakfast yes,” Remy nodded sagely, “The most important meal of the day. Follow me this way, my good homo sapien.”

“Homo sapien?”

“I’m practicing vocab terms for biology,” Remy rolled his eyes, “Like gurl, do not get me started on my biology professor. She’s part of the rhetoric that refuses to see vampires, homo sanguis, as anything but diseased homines. Like, I can’t even!”

He paused, as if waiting for a response. Virgil offered nothing but a blank stare in return. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He still couldn’t remember how he ended up at Remy’s dorm room.

 There was also Remy’s behavior to consider. The vampire was a flurry of activity as always. Never one to remain still if he could help it. He moved about the room, putting his sunglasses on as he ranted. Yet something rubbed Virgil the wrong way about it. Virgil couldn’t tell if he was reading into things but it was too fluid and smooth. Perfect to a degree that was unlike Remy’s usual chaotic brand of energy. 

“Anyways,” Remy said, rolling his eyes, “I may be a ‘diseased human frothing at the mouth for blood’ but even I have learned some basic skills like cooking to blend in.”

“I don’t even know how to cook.” Virgil blurted out.

“Yeah well neither did Betsy back in the fifties but did that stop her from criticizing my prized quiche? Oh no!”

Virgil followed Remy into the small dingy dorm kitchen, still baffled as hell. As much as that confusion ramped up his anxiety, a small part of him wanted it to stay that way. It warned him he might not like the truth. In the same way he tried ignoring the reality of his parents’ death.

“So!” Remy said, rummaging through the cupboards, “What are you hungry for? Pancakes or omelets?”

“Omelet please.” Virgil muttered, barely withholding a shudder. He didn’t think he could stomach pancakes after that dream with his parents. He sat on a stool, his legs tucked close to his chest.

Remy, thankfully, didn’t comment on it.

“Good choice, my roommate would probably murder me if I took from his pancake mix. Even though he definitely drank the last of the OJ and left the jug in there, biiiiitch. Good thing he’s not here because I’d give a piece of my mind. He’s not getting away with that easily, no mad’m!”

He casted a look towards Virgil as if saying “Roommates am I right?” and Virgil forced a laugh. It was a pastime of theirs to complain about their roommates. Alongside with discussing their favorite bands, of course.

Remy cracked eggs against the frying pan, his mouth still going a mile a minute. He flipped from one topic to the next, never settling on one for long. There was a high pitch to his voice, an almost nervous energy to it. Like he was putting on a performance for Virgil. Something for him to take comfort and solace in. It grated on Virgil’s nerves. Virgil wanted to call him out on it. He wanted to demand Remy to cut it out. He wanted to know what was going on.

Yet, fear held him back. It clamped down on his throat, like a bear trap and refused to let go. It told him it was better to say nothing than to possibly risk inciting Remy’s ire. Even if Remy had never been angry with Virgil before, did he really want this to be the first time?

So he sat there, too foggy-brained and half-asleep to say something. Or at least, that was what he told himself. A small part of him appreciated the mindless chatter Remy provided. It was a distraction from the daunting feeling he was forgetting something important.

He went to pull out his phone. Just to check the time—maybe scroll through tumblr real quick. Nothing big. He slipped his hand into his pocket, coming into contact with something jagged. Not smooth.

The tv static in his mind dissipated. Crystal clear HD images flooded his mind. The text from Patton. Jerad jeering. The chase around the apartment. Jerad gripping his wrist, squeezing it tightly like a boa constrictor. Dangling over the street far below. So close to plunging to his death. His phone falling, falling, falling to the ground. Into a tiny million pieces. Virgil fleeing, panic pulsing through his veins. Remy? Remy was there. He comforted him. But none of that made any sense. Just like a dream. It had to be a dream. No, a nightmare.

….He had to wake up.

Wake up, wake up, wAKE UP!

“Virgil!” 

Someone shouted something. His name? He couldn’t tell for sure over the raging storm of panic consuming him. Just like it did last night. No that wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. If he repeated that to himself, it’d come true. As true as his parents weren’t dead. Just simply…not around.

Burning. The smell of burnt food invaded his nostrils. He tasted something salty. Tears? He felt a wetness on his face. A hand rested upon his own, fingers thrumming against his knuckles. Singing. A voice low and strained. As if overcome by some sort of emotion.

“We’ll carry on, we’ll carry on, and though you’re dead and gone believe me—”

“Your memory will carry on.” Virgil croaked, causing the voice to stop.

He didn’t wake up. He still sat on the kitchen stool. Only now Remy sat beside him. His expression indiscernible due to his sunglasses. The broken pieces of his phone still dug into his hip. Virgil always found reality more frightening than nightmares could ever be. At least you could escape nightmares. You couldn’t do that with reality. At least not as easily. Virgil swallowed.

“Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the eggs are burning.”

“Well fuck the eggs,” Remy scowled, expression softening as he squeezed Virgil’s hand, “Right now the only thing I care about is making sure you’re okay.”

The intensity of Remy’s words spooked Virgil a bit.

“Well, maybe you should turn the burner off? Just in case it starts a fire?” Virgil suggested weakly. 

Remy stared at him for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly and rose to do just that. He leaned against the counter, facing Virgil once more. His lips twitched downwards but he otherwise maintained a blank exterior.

“Virgil, are you gucci?”

“I’m fine.” Virgil said before he could even think.

“Are you sure of that, hun?” Remy said, raising an eyebrow, “because I found outside my dorm last night and you didn’t know who I was at first. And then—just now…”

“Wait, you found me outside your dorm?” Virgil gaped.

He didn’t pick a particular destination when he started running. He just ran and ran, the world one big blurry ball of nothingness. Did he subconsciously run to Remy, hoping to receive comfort? What did that say about him? For being so needy and dependent on Remy? No wonder he seemed so upset!

“Virge, did someone hurt you?” Remy asked.

Virgil jolted, completely unprepared for this question. It seemed to come out of nowhere, not at all connected to the conversation at hand. Remy’s eyes drifted away from his face, looking at something in Virgil’s general vicinity.  He followed Remy’s gaze to a purple splotchy bruise on his wrist, its tendrils spreading out like a spiderweb. No, a hand. Jerad’s hand. Squeezing like a claw machine and he the hapless stuffed animal trapped in its grip. Virgil’s breath hitched.

“Nobody, I—I just hit my hand against a doorknob, that’s all.”

Remy’s frown deepened. He stepped towards Virgil, who barely repressed a flinch. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Not with the unusual ferocity that emanated from Remy.

“Vee, I’m serious,” Remy whispered, crouching beside him, “I don’t care who it is. If it’s that idiot pup again or even Boss Man. Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. Remy was a vampire--one that happened to be centuries old. He’d known this, of course, for some time now. But during that moment, the full weight of it Virgil. Even if Remy didn’t drink human blood now, he had to at one point. Right? Or at the very least, you don’t live that long without committing some violence acts. Did he really know the real Remy?

Paranoia aside, he couldn’t fight other what-ifs attacking him. What if Jerad hurt Remy? What if Jerad found out about Remy’s a vampire? What if Virgil caused the death of his first true friend in a decade?

“N—no one. It’s no one, Rem, I swear,” Virgil said, fear coiling around him like a python, “It’s just sometimes, I get panic attacks. L—like they suck and stuff, but there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

He snuck a gaze up at the vampire, heart hammering away at his chest. Remy’s eyes peered above his sunglasses, narrowed. Remy didn’t believe him. He didn’t need verbal confirmation, he just knew it. Virgil gripped the side of the breakfast bar, searching. Looking for something, anything to help him escape this conversation. A clock. One of those digital ones that contained both the date and time. Tuesday, 9:51AM.

“Okay I won’t—”

“I have to go.” Virgil interrupted, shooting up from the stool. So abruptly that the stool fell onto the floor with a crash. “I—I’m going to be late. I’m supposed to be at work by now—oh my god Logan’s gonna kill me.”

“Wait!” Remy stepped in front of him, “I think you should play hooky.”

“What?” Virgil said, one decimal away from screeching.

“Call out of work,” Remy suggested, “Logan will understand. He’s not that bitch Cathy. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him.”

For a second he saw the flash of someone else in Remy’s place. A huge, hulking silhouette. A shudder ran through Virgil’s spine. He moved away from Remy, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s fine—I’ll be fine. I have to go. I just—” Virgil took off, unable to finish that sentence without a sob escaping.

He ran out of the dorm, out of the university campus and to the city beyond. He ran, running from his problems like always.

“Virgil!”

He shrieked, halting to a complete stop. Remy was there, almost as if he just appeared. Out of thin air, no less. Because with Virgil’s head start, he shouldn’t have been able to get to his side so easily.

“What, Remy?” Virgil snapped, hands forming fists at his sides. He couldn’t do this, not now.

Remy didn’t recoil. His sunglasses fully covered his eyes, masking his expression again. Instead he offered something black and soft towards Virgil. A black jacket, one Virgil never saw him wear before.

“It’s always pretty chilly in the library, you know.” Remy shrugged, looking away.

Virgil saw through Remy’s words. He was offering him a way to hide the bruise from visible view. Something that hadn’t crossed Virgil’s mind, really.

“Thanks.” Virgil swallowed, taking the jacket. He slipped it on and left without saying anything else.

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

When he slammed Logan’s office door open, he expected to be faced with lots of angry lecturing for his tardiness.  He did not expect concern and understanding from Logan. Like, at all. Somehow that scared him more than the alternative. Why was Logan being so lenient with him?

Sure, today was a fluke. He was usually great at being there on time. A tiny bit of him was relieved about it after everything. The rest of him held its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. While it didn’t exactly drop just yet…well. The black jacket Remy gave him hadn’t completely worked.

“Virgil, who gave you that bruise?” Logan asked, staring into the depths of his very soul.

He’d freaked out at that question. Just like Remy, but worse. He spoke sharply to a werewolf who growled at him just seconds prior. Logan had been upset to see that bruise—just like Remy. Most people appreciated others showing an interest in their wellbeing. Not Virgil. It terrified him for reasons he didn’t quite understand himself.

The rest of work resumed as usual. Virgil drowned himself in the mundanity. The only thing that existed in the entire world was the library. His whole purpose? Working the front desk. Helping patrons the best he could. Sorting and putting books away. Telling a rowdy studying group to quiet down. Before he knew it, he was clocking out for the day.

That was when everything threatened to fall apart. He didn’t have anywhere to spend the night. He couldn’t crash at Remy’s again. Because if he asked Remy, then the vampire would really know something was up. When it wasn’t, not really. Just a spat between roommates. Sure, it ended in a broken phone, but it could’ve been worse. Like falling to one’s death—

Virgil took a deep breath as he walked the front entrance of the library. His movements stiff and mechanical. As if someone else was manipulating him to walk like strings to a puppet. He could do this. He just had to take things one step at a time. Literally.

Step one, leave the library. Simple, easy. He could do that. Once outside, he’d figure out the rest. Step two? Find somewhere to stay the night. Less easy.

The library’s automatic doors slid open and the last bright, brilliant rays of the sunset greeted him. A swarm of blackness attacked him next. He jerked backwards, hands automatically reaching to grapple with the thing that caused it. He stared down, eyes stinging, at a very familiar black plaid hoodie.

 “You actually caught it! I thought you’d fumble it like a dumbass.”

Virgil stopped breathing; Jerad. He stood there, hands haughtily crossed against his chest. Had he been waiting outside for Virgil? And if so, for how long? Virgil couldn’t take him on in a fight. He had to flee—run back into the library. He didn’t move. He remained rooted to the spot, muscles locked in place as Jerad advanced. To pummel him, or worse yet—kill him.

All color left his face as Jerad raised his arms and…hugged him? Or at least Jerad’s version of a hug. A tight, vindictive squeeze that Virgil had grown used to over the years. It still did nothing to diminish the fear swelling inside of him.

“Aww man, you should see your face! You look like you thought I was gonna punk ya!” Jerad crowed as he released Virgil.

“I—you—the phone.” Virgil stammered, unable to form complete sentences. Jerad didn’t get angry. He just laughed, slapping Virgil’s back in what was a friendly gesture. Virgil winced despite it.

“Oh that! Shit man, you know I don’t really mean anything when I lose my temper. I just can’t control it, ya know?”

Virgil silently nodded, unable to trust his voice in the moment.

“Besides, that thing was old and already falling apart! You know what you need? The latest greatest current smartphone out there! My treat!”

“Wha—” Virgil barely squeaked out before Jerad dragged him off to a cell-phone store. Jerad rambled about stuff on the way there. Virgil couldn’t hear him over the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. He clung to his hoodie in one arm as if it was a stuffed animal. He couldn’t think. His mind was a myriad of white noise. This couldn't be real, right? He had to have fainted or something. Please let it be so.

“—huh, Virgil? What do you think of this one?” Jerad said, nudging him.

Virgil blinked, spooked to be faced with a display of smartphones. Somehow, they were already at the store. He bit his lip, eyes widening at the price tag.

“I—it’s—I don’t know,” He glanced over to a cheaper phone at the other end of the display, “I like that one.”

“C’mon Virgo! This one comes with a protective screen cover! That other one doesn’t,” Jerad scoffed, leaning in closer, “Do you really want another shitty phone that’ll break like your last one?”

Those words sparked a rage inside Virgil. A fire burned in the pit of his stomach as words materialized at the tip of his tongue. It was Jerad who threw the phone from a five-story balcony. Jerad who always mocked Virgil and acted like throwing money at the problem solved a situation when it didn’t. Not really. Jerad who insulted his friends. Virgil wanted to scream at the top of his throat obscenities at him.

“N-no.” Someone said out loud, shaky and uncertain. 

Virgil jumped a bit at the sound, glancing to see who it was. It sounded familiar. He looked to see Jerad staring right at him, smirking. His stomach churned as a wave of realization crashed into him. Oh, oh. That had been him, he’d been the one to say that. But why? That had been the exact opposite of what he meant to say!

He didn’t have much time to process it before Jerad clasped him on the shoulder, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought! Lemme just—”

A loud obnoxious 80s rock song interrupted him. Jerad fished his phone out of his pocket, groaning upon seeing the caller id.

“Ugh, it’s my mom again. You’re lucky your parents are dead, Virgin, because they are so fucking annoying.” Jerad rolled his eyes, declining the call as he strode off to find a store associate.

Virgil stood there, withholding a flinch. Because he knew if his parents were still alive, they wouldn’t be proud of their son. They’d be absolutely repulsed by his cowardice.

He watched as Jerad chatted up the store associate, his back facing Virgil. If he couldn’t stand up to Jerad—this was it. This was his chance to flee. To run off while Jerad was distracted. Maybe he could run to Remy again. They could get an apartment together, away from both their annoying roommates. They’d laugh together and watch awful movies for the sake of ridiculing them.

 They’d be the best of friends until Remy grew sick of him. Until Virgil became annoying and obsolete to discard like an old flip-phone. Remy was immortal, just like Patton and Logan. It was really all a matter of time before they confirmed his suspicions. They’d get tired of him. It happened. It always happened to everyone in Virgil’s life. Why wouldn’t it happen to them? They’ll eventually grow tired of him and he’ll become their next meal. He’d be an idiot to think any other way.

Virgil turned to look back down at the phone display. He swallowed, unable to dislodge the lump in his throat. His vision spun a bit, his stomach nauseous. He couldn’t move a muscle, just like a statue. Perhaps he could try becoming one. All they did was remain motionless all day and let pigeons poop on them. He’d be better at that than being a human being.

“Virgil!” A hand took hold of his shoulder, forcibly turning his body around to face a new direction. Virgil glanced briefly down to see he was still flesh-and-blood. Not a ivory stone statue, free of all his troubles and misery.

“Virgil, this is Jeff,” Jerad said, gesturing to the store associate, “He’s gonna help with getting your new swanking, danking phone!” Jerad fist-pumped the air, letting out a whoop. 

Virgil locked eyes with the poor slightly frazzled store associate named Jeff and did a small nod of recognition. As if to say, “I’m sorry to be the cause of your agony.”

He knew what it was like to deal with customers like Jerad. He hated knowing it was his fault they were in the phone store in the first place. Virgil sharply exhaled, eyes blinking rapidly to stop the tears from forming. If he couldn’t keep himself from crying then he was truly pathetic.

His awareness grew blurry, almost foggy. His body moved out of its own accord, nodding along to the conversation and following after Jerad. Normally this type of thing would’ve freaked him out.  Given all the panic already present in his body, it might’ve killed him on the spot. Instead he couldn’t bring himself to feel the twinges of anxiety. Or frustration, anger, disgust. Nothing. A numbness took hold of him, wrapping around him in a cold embrace.

Jerad purchased the new phone, true to his word. He fiddled with it on the walk back to the apartment, ogling over its features. Virgil’s legs faithfully kept walking, each step closer to the apartment. His heart beat right on time, his breaths slow and even.

“Let’s take the stairs, get some exercise in today.” Jerad suggested and Virgil’s head jerked in agreement. They took the stairs, five flights and all. Virgil wheezed at the end of it. The pain of getting insufficient oxygen made him feel alive again for the briefest of moments. It ended sharply with Jerad laughing as he patted Virgil’s back.

“I see someone skipped leg day!”

A feeble imitation of a laugh croaked from Virgil’s lips. Jerad shoved his key into their apartment door and unlocked it. Virgil followed him in. Jerad stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room, causing Virgil to almost run into him. He turned around, the new phone clasped in one hand.

“Hey man,” Jerad began, offering the phone toward Virgil, “we cool?”

Virgil spat in his face.

Or at least that sounded better than what actually happened. 

“Yeah, thanks.” Virgil said. He took the phone from Jerad and headed off to his room. 

He sat on his crappy bed, swaddled in his raggedy purple blanket. He looked at the phone, at its glossy smooth screen. It was fine. Everything was fine. Virgil had just overreacted, that was all.

Jerad was not that bad of a guy. He was a jerk, yes. He liked to jerk Virgil at times, get inside his head. He was the jerk that threw Virgil’s phone down a five-story balcony. But he was a jerk who made up by purchasing a brand new one. The phone currently in Virgil’s hand.

His old phone couldn’t compare with this one. Not with its cracked screen and bad battery. This new phone had the latest technological achievements and best camera lens. He wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for Jerad.

It didn’t stop him from wanting his old phone back. He’d felt so proud to own it after scraping and saving for it. It was dumb but he’d named it Taran and treated it almost like a friend, no more than that. A lifeline that got him through life no matter what punches it threw at him.

 It was okay. He knew eventually it’d break on him. It didn’t matter how it broke in the end. Really, it didn’t. He just needed to move on and stop mourning an inanimate object. Maybe he could name this new phone Taran II in remembrance or something. It was fine.

Virgil kept staring down at the phone, into his reflection in the phone-screen. He looked past greasy hair and dark eyebags into dull, defeated eyes.

He threw the phone onto the ground, unable to bear the sight any longer. He curled up in his bed, head firmly pressed against his pillow, and cried.