#somehow Hawes got mixed in there and

[spotted-owl-sketches]

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[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 15

Part 1 Part 14

“Demogorgon?” Eddie demands. “That thing does not look like a Demogorgon!”

He can feel himself unraveling. He and Steve are barely unraveling and now they’re supposed to keep this kid alive somehow? They’d planned to fuck off and die of starvation, but now there’s a fucking kid in the mix, they’re going to have to fight that thing again and figure out a way to get out of this mess alive.

“What’s a demo—”

“It’s a D&D monster, Steve.” He’s being too loud, and he realizes it even before Will shrinks back, looking between Eddie, and Steve, and the door, like he can’t figure out which one is more of a threat.

“Oh, that’s cool,” Steve says, like a jackass. Will smiles hesitantly over at him.

“It is not cool, Sir Steven,” he hisses, keeping his voice down this time. “That is not what a Demogorgon looks like, and in cause you’ve forgotten, it tried to eat you! What about that is cool?”

Steve holds his hands up, palms forward like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. “Alright, man. Ease up,” he says. “Let’s just sit down and like, talk this out.”

As if to demonstrate the act of sitting, he folds himself gracefully to the ground, legs crossed in his usual sitting position. Eddie hates him just a little. But Will sits too, knees to his chest, arms locked around them, so Eddie slides off the couch and joins them.

“Why do you think it’s a Demo-whatever?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes as both Will and Eddie correct him in unison. “Yeah, Demogorgon, whatever.”

“I rolled a three,” Will says. “In the game. I rolled a three, and it got me. And then it got me in real life.”

Steve reaches out, patting the kid’s ankle. “Are you hurt?” Steve asks.

Will holds out his palms. They’re scrapped, a little bloody on the heels, but not too bad. Kid’s faired better than they have, that’s for sure.

“Just these,” Will says. “I fell off my bike.”

Without getting up, Steve stretches out to grasp the handle of his backpack, pulling it toward him. He pulls out their meager first aid supplies, even though the blood looks old and dried. He scoots forward on his butt until his knees knock into Will, and then he holds out his hand.

It takes a few loaded seconds, but Will puts one of his hands into Steve’s. Steve holds it up to his eyes, hemming and hawing over the minor cuts like they’re battle wounds.

Then the best thing happens – Will Byers laughs. Is Steve Harrington good with kids? Eddie is going to lose it.

“I think you’ll live,” Steve says, wiping the dried blood and dirt from his hands with one of the few remaining wet wipes, careful of the scabs. He pats them dry with the hem of his shirt before gently securing bandages across them. “There,” he says, with a private little smile. “Good as new.”

Will smiles up at him, cheeks pinkening in a way Eddie empathizes with. If Steve Harrington tenderly cared for his wounds, he’d disintegrate and blow away on the wind.

“Now what?” Will asks, looking around at his surroundings curiously, as if he only just realized he’d followed two strangers to an unknown location. “Where are we?"

Eddie jumps up, bowing theatrically. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

A small, competitive voice in the back of his head crowed in delight when he made Will laugh this time. Screw you, Steve Harrington. He was going to be this kid’s favorite.

“We should compare intel,” Steve says, like someone who’d watched too many James Bond movies before his brain was fully developed. But they do.

Steve and Eddie take turns describing a kid-friendly version of what they’d been through. The raging party turns into a small get-together, sans drugs and alcohol. The “Demogorgon” attack in the alleyway involves not injuries, and it never broke into Steve’s house at all.

They don’t mention the lack of food, but Eddie begins sifting the water when it becomes clear Will hasn’t had a drink in a while. He doesn’t let the kid see the residue left on the shirt that had once been in the water he’s now greedily gulping down.

Steve’s fidgeting, straightening, and recrossing is legs periodically as they wait for Will to finish drinking and catch his breath.

“And you?” Steve asks, when he finally lowers the bottle, wiping the water that’d dribbled down onto his chin with the sleeve of his flannel.

“I saw it in the woods,” he starts, handing the bottle back to Eddie and pulling his knees back up to his chest. “It made me crash my bike.”

“And it got you?” Steve asks, quiet and gentle.

Will shakes his head. “I made it home, but no one was there, and all the lights were flickering. So, I went to the shed, and I got Lonny’s gun. And—” he swallows, voice sounding thick. “I shot it, but it took me here anyway.”

“How long have you been here?” Eddie asks.

Will shrugs, less like he doesn’t want to say, and more like he doesn’t know. “My Mom’s looking for me though.”

Eddie’s jealous of that level of faith in a parent. He swallows it down, says, “of course she is.”

Will shakes his head, hair flying with the force of it. “No, you don’t get it,” he says, adamant. “I’m not just saying that. I talked to her.”

Eddie’s eyes shift to Steve’s face, sees the same skepticism he feels reflected back, hope it doesn’t show on his face quite as much. Okay,” he says, drawling the word out past its usual thresholds, “how?”

“With the phone in the kitchen. I called and she answered,” Will replies. There are tears running down his face now. “She sounded so worried.”

“…what did she say?” Steve asks. He’s picking at his cuticles again. Eddie wants to reach over and grab his hand. He doesn’t.

“She said she’d find me,” Will says. “But then the Demogorgon came.”

There’s silence for a minute besides Will’s quiet crying. Steve scoots closer to him, nudging their knees together companionably.

He meets Eddie’s gaze, something that looks alarmingly like hope shining in his eyes. “You got a phone in here, Munson?”

Part 16

[lovejustforaday]

Shoegaze Classics - Ferment

Ferment - Catherine Wheel (1992)

Main Genres - Alternative Rock, Shoegaze

A decent sampling of: Noise Pop, Dream Pop

Oops, I got lazy and procrastinated the last regular "classics" review. Well, better late than never.

For my final entry on this retrospective, before I move on to my select few magnum opuses of first wave shoegaze, I wanted to cover another band that I feel I could recommend to most casual listeners of alternative rock. So today I'll be taking a closer look at the moonlit melodies of early shoegaze's gruffest band, Catherine Wheel.

The Band

Catherine Wheel formed in Great Yarmouth, U.K. in 1990.

They were probably the biggest band of the first wave not signed to Creation Records or 4AD, though Creation Records' Alan McGee certainly tried. Instead, they got signed to American label Fontana Records.

The band's lineup for the vast majority of its duration was Rob Dickinson on vocals and guitar, Dave Hawes on bass, Brian Futter on guitar, and Neil Sims on drums.

When referring to this band as "early shoegaze's gruffest band", I was especially referring to Rob Dickinson's vocals; less of the typical semi-androgynous, zoned out 20 something year old stoner dude, and more like your cool heavy metal uncle singing lullabies to you.

Rob's gentle but husky voice was often placed rather high in the mix when compared to most other shoegaze acts of the time, giving his lyrics more of a central focus. His general musings involve cerebral, abstract mystical-isms, while sometimes being the brooding, angsty kind of poet that was very much dominating the grunge music and alternative rock airwaves in the United States in the early 90s.

In fact, again I have to say that I would've expected these guys to be a lot more successful in the United States given what was happening overseas at the time. Much like Swervedriver, Catherine Wheel were a bit more hard-rocking than their other peers in the scene that celebrated itself, though not really in the same way as the former.

If Swervedriver's thing was shoegaze mixed with noise rock distortion and post-hardcore levels of intensity, then Catherine Wheel's sound was more of a kind of shoegaze rock and roll, more indebted to the hard rock of the previous few decades than other bands. A lot of their melodies have kind of a timeless feel to them.

Their sound is also distinctly nocturnal, even more so than most other shoegaze bands. Ferment and Chrome are LPs meant to be listened to on night walks and bus rides, especially the latter.

EPs happened. Then came the debut record.

The Record

Ferment is Catherine Wheel's journey into the foggiest recesses of the half-waking, half-asleep mind, with loud, opaque walls of sound and glistening electric guitars.

The production of this record has a very washed-out quality, like the entire record was given the acid wash treatment. If that's your kind of thing, you'll love this record. It certainly lends itself well to the "heavy rocking slumber" quality of Catherine Wheel's general musical aesthetic. That being said, one or two tracks here may sound a bit flat by modern production standards.

The record opens with "Texture", a menacing 6/8 splattering of radioactive glowing guitar chords creating a radiant, moonlit shoegazing mosaic. A very bold opener with possibly the most aptly titled song for a shoegazing band ever.

"I Want To Touch You" is, also true to its name, a nervously erotic track that is both enticing and surreal. There's about a hundred ways that a track with this title could go wrong and turn into failed-seriousness or something off-putting, but somehow this ends up working really well with its breezy melody and flashy guitar leads over tingling shoegaze drones. It's a certified banger.

If ever there was a song worthy of the moniker "shoegaze" in its most literal interpretation, then that song would be "Black Metallic". The drowsy-eyed, cerebral introspection of this behemoth of a song is communicated through sonic timbres of pleasantly tender abrasion, perfectly capturing what it would sound like to be quite literally lost in a labyrinth of your own thoughts while staring absently into the apparent abyss of one's own shoes. "Black Metallic" is a masterclass in evoking a state of mind for the listener through well-crafted, gorgeous guitar soundscapes. This is probably among the first two or three tracks that I'd recommend to any of the uninitiated.

Sadly, my one major gripe with this record is that it starts with the excellent three track run that I just mentioned, and then never comes close to picking up that momentum again. And at 38 minutes onward of mostly by-the-numbers shoegaze-alt. rock, the record becomes a bit of a slog to get through.

Mind you, by-the-numbers shoegaze is still something I could very comfortably put on and just vibe to, enjoying it for what it is, but the promise of the first three tracks leaves something to be desired from the rest of the record. Ferment is honestly one of the most front-loaded rock LPs that I can think of.

The title track "Ferment" is fairly transcendent for me until it gets to that effing jumpscare at two minutes and forty eight seconds in (maybe I'm exaggerating for most listeners, but that shit certainly made me jump).

Unfortunately, much like Drop Nineteens' Delaware which I reviewed much earlier on in this series, Ferment is more of a record that I recognize as a classic because of its importance to the scene and the reputation it holds versus my own personal enjoyment of the project as a whole.

I can see why this record really does it for some folks who like their shoegaze loud and heavy, and I do really love those first three tracks and "Black Metallic" in particular is probably one of my most played shoegaze tracks period, having graced me with its blissful textures on many a zero-sleep bus rides into uni after pulling an essay all-nighter (cuz I'm trash like that sometimes). But the rest of it just never lives up to what it could have been for me.

But like I said in the Drop Nineteens review, a lot of shoegazers love this record. So again, I implore you to listen and form your own opinion. All in all, this is still a solid record by my tastes, but then I'm also very biased in favour of shoegaze as a genre of music.

What Came After That?

Catherine Wheel is yet another shoegaze band that did not survive of the turn of the century, though they did release four more records in the 90s.

Truthfully, I'd definitely recommend their sophomore LP Chrome over the debut album, because I feel that it's a more fully-realized project, with a track listing that flows better and contains overall better songwriting ("Black Metallic" notwithstanding).

The only real reason why I didn't opt for covering the follow-up record instead is because I wouldn't exactly call Chrome a shoegaze record in the primary sense; more of a heavy, dreamy alternative rock record with its roots in the scene, with roughly three or four actual shoegaze tracks here and there.

After dropping three more records, Catherine Wheel disbanded in 2000. I haven't really checked the rest of the records out, but going off of the RYM genre tags at least, it would seem the band never really put out another full-on shoegaze record.

Rob Dickinson released one solo record in 2005 after the group disbanded. Nowadays, the dude seems...very much into cars? Not exactly what I would expect from the usual shoegazing crowd, but then there was that one Lush song on their last LP.

Brian and Neil went on to form their own indie band called "50ft. Monster", which funnily enough immediately calls to mind the similarly titled PJ Harvey single. Again, haven't bothered to check this out yet.

I know it may sound like I'm not a big fan of this band based on the score I end up giving this record, but I'd be lying if I said there weren't more than a few great gems in this bands discography. Both of their first two records have a small but pretty loyal following, so I'm gonna strongly recommend you check both of them out and see if either of those records tickles your fancy. Regardless, "Black Metallic" at least is basically god tier shoegaze.

7/10

Highlights: "Black Metallic", "Texture", "I Want To Touch You"

[hornystiel]

for @justcastiel 's 2k celebration

prompts: smoke + yeehaw + light

1,6k. this one is explicit guys

Not to corrupt a falling angel even further, but somehow Dean finds himself in a dimly lit motel room alone with Castiel, offering him a cigarette.

It goes like this. They went to some cowboy-themed bar, some of the monsters there yeed their last haws, Dean’s got a shiner for his troubles and Cas keeps asking him how a cowgirl can be ‘reverse’. A typical evening.

Gradually losing his grace and wings must suck enormous balls, but at least Cas got some disappointment out of his system by beating up those poor bastards, and now they are both fuzzily relaxed back at their shitty room. Still, Cas offered to heal him, when Dean took the shirt off and plopped on the tiny squeaky bed, rummaging in his bag for a smoke, but the feeling of aching muscles, a few scratches and a cigarette in his teeth feels like home to Dean so, no, no healing.

Cas keeps looking at the cigarette with such undivided attention that Dean can’t help but ask “you wanna try one?”

And who’s Cas if not somebody who’s taking the apples from the Eden’s garden for Dean to make a pie.

There’s just one left in a pack and Dean chuckles a bit, thinking about some kind of fucked up destiny games there, because if not god then something even weirder should be looking after them. Or laughing at them. At this point it’s all the same.

Cas sits beside him, the lighter clicks and Dean shows how to inhale smoke, Cas diligently repeats after him and coughs. That makes Dean laugh maybe harder than necessary but, holy shit, they are sitting in this shitty room after a brawl in a cowboy bar and he’s teaching a billion-year-old creature how to smoke a cheap cig. And he fucking coughs. The laughter is a bit bitter, like smoke, because coughing is such a human thing, after all. 

Then it dies completely on his lips when Cas, being a good student as usual, does everything right the second time and exhales, looking up, his eyes glowing slightly. That looks unfairly hot and Dean moves closer without thinking, drawn. His brain is still rebooting because, after a few quiet moments of just watching Cas smoke and flick the ash into the ashtray, the first thing out of his mouth is “let me show you how to shotgun”.

Cas finishes his cigarette, puts it out and looks quizzically at Dean. Because of course he does, Dean’s being an idiot but it’s too late to back out, so he might as well add more depraved behavior to the mix. He moves closer again, and if Cas wasn’t that new to sarcasm and bitchy comebacks - he would’ve reminded Dean about his precious personal space now. But they are both too distracted, staring into each other’s eyes, the air around turning thick, and that has nothing to do with cigarette smoke.

Finally, Dean unfreezes and instructs Cas to close his eyes and open his mouth. Cas is about to argue but at the last moment huffs and does as told. Something’s telling Dean that this is a very rare occasion and he’s mentally puffing up with pride. Dean inhales the smoke of his smoldering cigarette, leans in and slowly exhales into Cas’ open mouth. Only, the thing is, the instructions lacked one crucial point. What to do next.

So this is how their first kiss happens.

Cas just inhales and closes the remaining distance, gently brushing his lips against Dean’s, sharing the smoke, and Dean’s been too hungry for too long to deny himself anymore. They start a bit awkward, uncertain maybe, learning each other’s touches, scratchy stubble, searching hands. Dean’s not sure how much experience with that kind of thing Cas has (he gets irrationally jealous every time he remembers the strip club, that’s why he still doesn’t know what exactly happened there besides the holy lecture), so he doesn’t rush, head still a touch foggy.

Then Cas lets out a quiet uncertain moan, as if he's not sure he's allowed to be affected this much, and that sound is the beginning of the end. He wants to hear it again, he wants to know all the sounds Cas can make when they are making out, he wants to undress him and touch skin, he wants to be touched in return. He knows he’s not allowed to want, let alone so much, but right now he doesn’t fucking care. The remaining cigarette bud burns his fingers, going out, but it has nothing on the burning inside him. 

He sucks on Cas’ tongue and the next moan is louder, Cas’ hands coming up to grip his waist tight, and the fog in his head swirls into a hurricane, and they both will be swept. Today is the day of great decisions for Dean, apparently, because his next move is to straddle Cas and shove himself into him as close as possible. Cas goes with it without a word, readjusting his grip on Dean and kissing him hard. It's still a bit sloppy, but Dean loves it even more because of it. 

Dean knows a few new things about Cas now. He knows that Cas is a biter, because he keeps nipping his lips, his jaw, neck, collarbone, carefully avoiding the bruises and scratches (he wants to punch him for it because the alternative is to cry). Dean also knows that Cas likes when Dean touches his hair, tugging a bit, because he makes soft growling sounds every time Dean does it. He knows that Cas is not shy (as if he ever was), because once he understands that Dean is in no way against being touched and groped (if he listened to his thoughts now all that’ll be here is pleasepleasplease), he slides his huge fucking hands to Dean’s ass and grinds against it, just taking. Oh and Dean also knows now what Cas’ dick feels like, pressed against him. They are not even bothering with the clothes, Dean thinks he might pass out if he spares even one moment away from being glued to Cas. Besides, it’s not like he’s not on the verge of coming already. It would’ve been embarrassing if Dean cared in the slightest. Fortunately, instead of caring he's moving sinuously on top of his personal demise, mouth opened slightly, panting and whining, because, fuck, it feels so good and he feels so alive and finally in his skin, he can't possibly stop. 

Cas is sweating and Dean thinks he hears a stray “fuck” from his lips, which throws him for a loop, but then Cas says “Dean” in his damn rough voice, breathless, and, yeah, Dean's done. He grips Cas' neck, groaning somewhere into his shoulder, hips snapping hard and fast, riding out the orgasm like a man on a mission. He hears Cas' sharp intake of breath and feels his hands petting his thighs gently, lips kissing his temple, and, jesus fucking christ, he's not done coming, he can't process these touches without a tiny heaving sob. 

They stay like this for a few more seconds, Dean coming down from the high and Cas just holding him. Ironically, this is too much for Dean to handle, so he changes lanes as quickly as possible and shoves his hand into Cas' pants. It's Cas' turn to grip him for dear life again, pushing his face into Dean's chest and moaning brokenly. Dean strokes him with ease because Cas is wet, wetter than he expected, and his own cock gives a twitch at that clear indication of how much Cas is enjoying it. It's been a while since he jerked someone else off, but it's not like Cas has a wide range of dudes who did it for him before to compare, so they are good. More than good really, because Cas is so responsive to everything Dean does that his hips occasionally lift off the bed a little and Dean's glad he's still gripping Cas' neck with one hand because otherwise he'd end up on the floor by now. Yee-haw or something. And then Cas slaps his hand on the handprint on Dean's shoulder, chokes on a moan and comes.

Dean feels on fire. The hurricane finally swallowed him and is tossing his insides around the walls of his body like it pleases. His shoulder burns, his chest burns, his eyes see nothing but a white light. Through the noise in his ears he hears a flutter and his hand blindly goes to Cas' back and, yes, something soft and electric meets his touch. It's shivering as Dean pets the feathers, some bits are missing, but Dean is sure Cas is still beautiful. Then the feeling is gone and the burn softens. It's like a warm midday sun, cradling him, soothing. His vision returns but there's no light around except for the glow of the neon sign far down the street and Cas' eyes, that are peering apologetically into Dean's very soul. 

Cas fucking blew all the lights out. And in the meantime healed all of Dean's injuries. Scratch that, Dean thinks he's healed some of his old injuries too, judging by the way his joints and ribs don't feel any discomfort anymore. Everything except the handprint. This fucking angel will be the death of him. 

Dean leans in and pecks Cas on the lips, letting him know that it's okay, he's not mad or anything. He may be falling in love even faster now, but eh. 

They don't let go of each other for a long time after it, just existing calmly in each other's arms. And when Dean finally gets up to go take a shower, Cas evidently not leaving his room tonight, he completes the day by saying - 

"So, do you wanna know more about the reverse cowgirl next time?" 

Cas chuckles and goes to join him in the shower. 

[innocentbi-stander]

Jaskier and Geralt do dumb stuff when they’re drunk

But I think that it’s absolutely imperative that we don’t forget the complete idiots they are while sober too

(Stupid boys Geralt and Jaskier: sober edition so they have no excuses)

Part 1 Part 2

The Continent has never seen two people so prone to chaos and idiocy than Geralt and Jaskier and not even Destiny herself foresaw them coming together

Some of Geralt and Jaskier’s Path Shenanigans include:

The time they were run out of town, not by the townspeople, but by a LITERAL ARMY OF SQUIRRELS (the reason from this mostly stems from geralt possessing an entire pack stuffed with nuts he had found in the woods but “no jaskier I’m not about to give up my food just because some furry hellions want it, if we die i’m dying with this full pack of nuts”)

The time jaskier managed to fall into a mud puddle so deep geralt had to reach in and pull him out because the bard’s head had gone under the surface

The time GERALT painted a giant dick on the alderman’s house in the dead of night because he had heard him call jaskier’s singing “whiny”

The time a town tried to arrest geralt and jaskier’s idea of a daring escape was throwing an entire alligator through the jailhouse window and rushing geralt off during the chaos

Jaskier often forgets that geralt has missed out on a lot of human experiences, and so he is appropriately shocked and hysterical when he does a playful “got your nose” and geralt demands it back immediately, dead serious (jaskier waits a few hours and it's COMPLETELY worth it)

The time jaskier almost threw down with a barkeep because he had put dirt on their food before geralt took a bite (geralt doesn’t waste food. Geralt is a witcher-raccoon) and discovered the dirt was actually seasoning

The time jaskier got sick and tired of waiting for geralt while he was hemming and hawing over swords in the market and stole roach to ride to the next town

The time geralt jailbreak an entire barn full of cats who he declared were being “held hostage” by the farmer

The time jaskier was imprisoned after being caught with a lord’s wife and geralt broke into his prison cell, not to bust him out but to hang out with jaskier (“prison cells are cheaper than nights at inns jaskier, and they even give you free food”) the guards didn’t know what the fuck to do- that had never happened before

The time jaskier drank a little too many ales while at court and managed to knick the queen’s crown and her best dress

When a mage tried to attack them after two straight days of travel and geralt asked him to “please wait until after we’ve had some fucking sleep or don’t bother”

When the mage came back in the morning, they were back on the path and jaskier stopped him with a simple “no.” and they kept walking

The time jaskier painted “Valdo Marx is a little bitch” on every stone in the Oxenfurt courtyard

The time geralt and jaskier got lost for three days because they realized neither of them could read a map (they also didn’t own a map in the first place but that’s not important)

The time jaskier paused mid chase by town authorities after being caught with the alderman’s wife to down an ale with his attackers because “cuckolding makes a man thirsty” (this one threw even geralt for a loop)

The time geralt was nearly arrested for “practicing karate” with the town’s beloved local swans (he won’t admit he was just trying to pet one but he was)

On the contrary jaskier was also almost apprehended, but because he was trying to coax one of the swans to drink a pint with him

The time jaskier managed to pass himself off as geralt with a poorly made imitation medallion (the symbol on it was not a wolf, but in fact a penis, but what’s a townsperson to do when a man dressed in witcher gear says he’s from the “witcher school of the dick” with a completely straight face?)

The time geralt stumbled around the campsite nervously looking for his sword for two hours before jaskier took pity on him and told him it was strapped to his back

The time jaskier mixed up a series of potions he found in a mage’s lair hoping to make a banger drink, but instead made himself immortal with powers (he’s still a little disappointed he didn’t end up drunk but you can’t win them all)

The time geralt called a hit on jaskier because he drank the rest of the wine (he called it off after a few days but it was fun to watch jaskier show his well-hidden spy skills to avoid assassination)

The time geralt and jaskier somehow woke up on a ship in the middle of the ocean and had to call yennefer to portal them out (neither of them knows exactly how they ended up there, but they realize chugging seven bottles of Eist Eist probably wasn’t the best plan)

Some more geralt and jaskier shenanigans! If anyone wants a part 4, let me know!

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

    “[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

    [Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

    “Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

    [Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

    “Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

    The second voice responded, “Former.”

    [Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true. 

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own. 

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different. 

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

    You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

    “Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

    You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls. 

    You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

    “[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

    “Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

    “Vis?”

    “Yes, my favorite teacup?”

    You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

    “Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

    That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

    “Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

    You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

    One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

    The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

    “The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

    Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

    You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

    “Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

    The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

    “Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

    You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

    “Oh, my.”

    “What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

    “No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

    Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

    A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

    “What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

    You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

    You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…? 

    Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

    “Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

    “They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

    “No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

    Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

    “Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

    A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

    Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

    You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

    Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it. 

    It felt like coming home.

    Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

    The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again. 

    I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

    Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse. 

    Shhh!

    Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

    “Vis,” you said.

    Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

    You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

    Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two. 

    Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

    Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him. 

    “Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

    You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other. 

    Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

    “Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

    Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

    Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

    Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

    Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

    A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

    “No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

    You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

    Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

    “You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

    He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

    “Just a little—”

    “And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

    You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

    You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.” 

    “What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

    “I threw it back,” you pointed out.

    “Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

    You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

    Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

    “I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

    “Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

    That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

    “Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

    Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

    “Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

    Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

    You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

    “Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.” 

    “Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

    You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

    “You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

    You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

    “A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

    You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

    Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything. 

    “I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

    “Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

    “Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

    “Your what?” Vision said.

    “It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

    “Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

    You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

    The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

    “Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

    Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

    You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

    “To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

    Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

    You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

    “Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

    Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

    “Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

    “Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

    “Why ask if you would fall?”

    Oh.

    “Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again. 

    Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”   

    You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

    Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

    You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

    Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

    “Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

    Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

    “Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way. 

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

    You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started. 

    That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

    Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

    “Is that you unpacked my house?”

    Another nod. 

    “And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

    “That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand. 

    “Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

    “I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

    “I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

    Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

    “I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

    Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

    Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

    “Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

    “Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts. 

    You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

    “Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

    You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

    There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

    “Vis?” she murmured.

    He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

    “Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

    Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

    “Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

    “That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

    “It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

    Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever. 

    Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man. 

    “And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

    “Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

    Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

    The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

    “I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

    Not yet, anyway.

    You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

    The married couple in question chortled at that.

    You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

    “Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

    Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

    “Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

    Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

    You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

    “Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

    You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!” 

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

    You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

    She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

    “I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

    Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

    “The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

    Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

    You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

    That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

    Another little smile.

    “I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

    Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

    “That was Dotty’s?”

    You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

    Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

    Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

    You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

    Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

    “Have anything to add?”

    “You’re doing wonderfully.”

    “Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

    “I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

    “So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

    She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

    “Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

    “I’m not saying that.”

    You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

    “Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

    It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

    Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

    It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

    “So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

    You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim. 

    Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his. 

    You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

    Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

    “You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

    “I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

    There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

    Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

    In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline. 

    Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

    In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

[zuffer-weird-girl]

No way out...

Drinking with the gang.

That was supposed to be joyful one, isn't that right? One single moment where you just can say fuck the world and enjoy the least bit of sanity you're suppose to have while being a part of the league... well, now Paranormal Liberation Front.

At least the clothes and the condition of living were better than sharing a room in a dirty bar or just moving into abandoned buildings...

He wasn't someone who ever thought about getting lucky on this shit called life of his. Yet now he had some fucking food and a partner to just wrap his arm around their waist, and behind closed doors kiss amd fuck with all his heart content.

And it made it better when your morals happen to be similiar with his ones. You didn't gave two shits about Shigaraki's plans besides having a huge respect towards him... somehow.

He knew about how you lost your parents to heroes. Two people whose was only trying to provide for their kids only to be caught stealing food at the wrong moment and wrong place...

Despite all of his issues and yours. You two made a good match... and he was, dare he say, happy. More happier than he ever was.

Right now, on the middle of drinking your heads off, Toga and Twice had come up with a game. Throwing a fucking knife around and just hoping no one got actually hurt by it. Simple, if you catched the bottle without breaking it, you had to tell a story or just do something stupid.

Similiar to truth and dare but... a bit more spice on it.

"CATCH (Y/N)! OH SHIT DUCK!" Twice yelled and Dabi didn't even bothered to move as his arm continued on your shoulders as you merely lifted one of your fingers up and stopped the knife on mid air.

"Metallokinesis". Your quirk was quite an ordinary but by no means less useful.

"Buuuu you're no fun (Y/n)-chan!" Toga whined on her seat with a pout as you chuckled and rotted the knife on the air while swirling your finger along with it.

"Right right, as if I would be let to be stabbed here." You commented, giggling at the snort Dabi let out before you actually grabbed the knife "So, embarrassing thing or story of my life?"

"You just happen to be the second most mysterious one of this league excluding crusty over there." Spinner pointed with his can at Dabi "Say something about no one here knows."

"Huh..." you poked the tip of knife on your chin with a thoughtful expression before letting out a gasp.

"Found one aparently." Mr. Compress spike from his seat.

"Welp, guess it wouldn't hurt to it." You leaned more on Dabi as he sighed in content.

Neither his own blue flames could compare to the warm feeling you brought to his uncharacteristically cold soul.

"There was this one last time I saw my brother. He was such a dick, but he took care of me after my parents died so I own my life to him kinda of."

"Brother huh?" He opened of his turquoise eyes in amusement. You never mentioned about a brother even after everything you told him about your past, so that was new.

"Yep. He told me how to especially control my quirk-" you levitated the knife and made her twirl in the air "His quirk wasn't something useful sadly.. his hands turned into diamonds but for only what? Two minute s or less I guess. Yet he never stopped being a fighter and a trouble maker." You giggled.

"You're a magnet to shitty assholes. HE SOUNDED NICE!" Dabi only threw a half glare at Twice as Toga giggled.

"But back on. One time we were walking on the middle of the night, comminting some robberies to put at least a piece of bread on the table... but then we just happened to cross by the current number one hero himself!" You spoke on a venom tone who only made him snort. He could care two fucks about Enji yet it was fun to see how fucking pissed you are with the bastard.

"And he beat your brother's ass." Spinner spoke as you only took a sip form your own drink.

"He beat my and his ass." You let go of the drink "My brother just happened to pull me out of the way of his flames, he used his quirk to prevent a potential burn yet he got some scars outra of it."

Dabi suddenly tensed... he remembered one night he was doing his researches fro recruits... Usually you would go with him, but Shigaraki demanded your services for something else on that night...

"Scars?" Toga asked with a sick smile.

"Yeah. A burn that crossed from his jaw until the midsection of his nose and a deep cut that crossed his forehead to his lef cheek. Almost lost vision of one eye."

Memories clouded his mind... it was cold... his footsteps echoed on the empty streets before they come to a stop when he saw someone.

"He got burns all over his body yet his hands remained intact... probably because of his quirk sure."

.

.

.

The guy stared at him while he demanded to be on the league... the quirk wasn't useful to them... the man was cocky and didn't care about morals and didn't even gave him a reason to be there, just a "I need to."

.

.

"He was always a thick head. If he wanted something than he get it or got beaten up because of it... so when Endeavoyr fought him... he gave his best." You spike proudly as a shen of sweat started to appear on Dabi's forehead.

.

.

Doing a backflip after jumping and dodging one of his attacks he cursed and sended a huge wave of flames towards the man whose shouted curses at him.

.

.

"Then what happened?"

"Endeavour focused more on my brother as his sidekick chased me. My brother shouted at me to run that he would find me on our usual spot...then I made a run for it and attracted the sidekick far away from the fight to not cause my brother more trouble."

.

.

The guy was totally fucked up... laying on the concret as Dabi took one bar of metal from a trash can and stared down at him... the motherfucker made him loose a few of his stables so he had to fucking pay...

"Still alive I see..." he muttered in boredoom as a thunder echoed... rain drops appeared and fell on them as his victim's haw trembled yet his (E/c) remained that pathetic determined infuriated look.

"F-Fuck.. off..."

"Huh." he heated up with his quirk one part of the metal and pushed against the guy's chest as he steeped on him with one foot... enjoying hearing his screams of pain. "Not as confident as it looks huh..?

.

.

"I couldn't find him and honestly it was for the better. No deaths or prisons were notification so that's how I knew and know he is okay.." you smiled as Dabi clenched his hand on his leg as his breath quickened.

.

.

He tortured the man on that filfh and wet alley... the guy's was with closed eyes, whimpering yet his body still thought to stay alive...

"Last words scumbag?" He arched one of his eyebrows up as he had the burning hot piece of metal right on aim on where the human heart lived.

He gagged on his own blood and coughed... opening one of his beaten up eyes at the sky as he muttered something before Dabi pushed and kicked down the bar of metal... letting the man at least exhale his one last final breath...

.

.

"I met Dabi one week after and the rest you guys know." You leaned back in smugness as they clapped but furrowed your eyebrows when Dabi shuffled his arm away from you noticing how tense he was.

He now remembered... his last fucking word was a name... Your name.

Your brother died by his hands...

"I need a cigarette." Dabi muttered before leaving the room abruptly while everyone stared at him in a mix of worry and confusion.

"Is Dabs okay? gO CRY LIKE A LITTPE BITCH-!" You sighed at Twice's comment before using your quirk to threw the knife at Spinner who yelled when it got stuck on the wall he was leaving against at.

On the balcony Dabi exhaled shakily a cloud of nicotine as he stared at the sky with a regretful look... he killed a member of your family... one you cherished and hoped to see again and believed he was still out there... breathing.

"Never took you for the type to just leave a room to smoke baby." You hugged him from behind and he looked over his shoulder to see you smilling sweetly up at him...

Gosh he felt terrible... should he tell you or be selfish...?

"Hey... are you.. okay?" You started as you got by his side when he didn't teased you back for your comment.

He stared at the cigarette on his hand and sighed before flipping it out of his hand and watching it fall...

"Doll..." he sighed before giving you a one sided painful look "I'm... dammit." He scoffed, burying his half burned face on his forearms... feeling your gentle carres and hugs didn't bringed him any calm like before because he fucking knew what he had done...

"Hey.. whatever it is is okay my prince." You cupped his face on your hand and smiled up at him "Just tell me..."

He furrowed his eyebrows as a wind passed by... his indigo strays of hair flew as he stared in remorse at your face...

"What you told back there..." he sighed before looking away from you as your hand dropped and tugged on his own "(Y/n)... I am.. sorry."

"For what?" You giggled in astonishment "Dabs, it was not your fault my brother got into a fight with Enji! I'm going to find him again as soon as this hero society is collapsed." You smiled but soon it fell when Dabi only brushed his scarred hand on his face and looks as he looked at the city...

"Dabi?" You spike after a few minutes of silence before he muttered, shoulders hunched.

"Remember that night I came back to the bar and had almost half of my staples out? And when you shouted at me I said I killed the motive of me being all beaten up and we started dating?"

"Yeah it was when I admitted my feelings towards you dumbass. What's with it?" You nervously giggled

The way his turquoise eyes locked with you were what hurted you the most. It showed his true emotions... Fear, regret, sorrow... grief...

"Doll... you wont be meeting your brother anymore... he won't come back..." he managed to whisper but soon a shot in his heart was felt by the way your eyes widened...

You took a few steps away from him and he hissed mentally when he stepped closer to you and you only got more far away from him.

"No..." tears started to gather on your eyes as Dabi furrowed his eyebrows and extended his hand towards you only to widen his eyes when you used your quirk to move plataforms of metal to make an escape... far away from him.

He shouted your name when you jumped while using your quirk to get on the ground... running away from... everything as he tried to follow... ignoring the questions from his commurates.

.

.

.

He couldn't even find you since the heroes started to attack...

Hawks was a traitor. This didn't surprised him one bit...

Yet what caught him out of guard was the fact that both Twice and you were... killed.

Jin had at least made it to Toga to speak his last words to her... but you in favor of saving him, got the most hurt.

Couldn't even mutter a word to him as he held your limb body on his arms.

He was sad... but something more consumed him.

Anger. His wrath was enough to keep a smile on his face as he burned the wings of the responsible for his lover's death.

He was a bastard that deserved living on a personal hell... yet, he could at least keep alive to keep the promise of crushing this hero fake society and comply to his lover's words that always made him want to tear up.. but he couldn't due to his condition.

"I love your smile Dabi."

[thatesqcrush]

Fall From Grace, Pt. 9

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Fandom: The Good Fight. Reference: S4, E.4, “The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It.” CW: Angst, language, fluff. AN: Our lovely REE was on The Good Fight for all of 3 minutes so I am taking lots of liberties. I am obsessed with the anti-Barba. He was just delicious.

WC: 2313

Six months.

It had been six months since you moved to the East Coast and enjoyed all that NYC had to offer. However fast paced Chicago seemed to be, New York City moved just a little bit faster.

You had crammed a bagel with an obscene amount of cream cheese in your mouth when a plethora of emails with electronic case filings came through your inbox. You switched gears and began associating the files with the respective cases when one in particular caused you to freeze.

STR Laurie

Bryan Kneef, Esq.

233 South Wacker Drive, Suite 8000

Chicago, IL 60606-6448

Attorneys for Defendants

APPEARANCE OF COUNSEL

LIBERTY LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY,

HOLBROOK SECURITIES LLC (Defendants)

 V.

 Allison Kensington (Plaintiff)

Pearson Specter

Civil Action No. 10-cv-3752

TO THE CLERK OF THE COURT AND ALL PARTIES OF RECORD:  PLEASE TAKE NOTICE that the undersigned is admitted to practice in this court, and hereby enters an appearance as counsel in this case for defendants. Please serve all papers related to this action on the undersigned.

By: Bryan Kneef

STR Laurie

BKneef@STRLaurie.com

Attorneys for Defendants

 You swallowed the half-chewed bagel, grimacing as it scraped your throat as it went down.

“Motherfucker!” You swore loudly, slamming your hand on your desk.

“Am I interrupting?”

You jumped in your seat. You looked up and found yourself face to face with Rachel, who was standing in your doorway.  

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Oh, uh…”  

“Safe to say you saw the notice of appearance.” Rachel remarked, her brow cocked.  

You nodded. “Yup.” You smacked your lips on the end of the P, emphasizing it.

“I wanted to know if you still wanted in on the case.” Rachel sat in the chair in front of you, her arms crossed.  You had been at the firm maybe two weeks tops before you spilled everything to Rachel about Bryan.  

“Yes, I do.” You replied. “And before you ask me if I'm tough enough to be in there, I want you to know that I am tough enough.”

“That's not what I wanted to ask.” Rachel replied. “I want to know if you think it will rattle him.”  

“Frankly, I think it was purposefully done.” You sighed. “Is there a deposition?”

 “Of course there is. Monday.”

--

The week surprisingly went quickly, and Monday came before you knew it. You looked over your appearance in the mirror. Suddenly your go-to pantsuit and button down didn’t cut it anymore. You hemmed and hawed in front of your closet and settled on a crisp white top and a muted grey pencil skirt. You popped the collar slightly and rolled up your sleeves. 

Your mind flew to the memories of what happened whenever you did wear pencil skirt – somehow it’d end up over your hips or by your ankles with Bryan bringing you to the height of pleasure. You pinned your hair up and kept your makeup minimal, with the exception of a bold lip. 

Your heels clacked against the pavement of the city’s sidewalk as you approached Pearson Specter. And sure enough, Bryan was in front of the building, pacing while on the phone.  

You ducked your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you. But curiosity got the best of you and you looked over your shoulder as you entered through the revolving door. Your eyes met Bryan’s as he pivoted while on the phone. You quickly turned and hurried into the building.

---

Bryan walked down the hall of the firm after being directed to the conference room.  He was anxious to see you. He knew he was playing with fire being here in New York. When the case fell in his lap, he knew he had to see it through and maybe, just maybe, see you. He missed you immensely. Truth be told, no other woman had ever gotten to him like you did. Through the glass, he noticed you setting up and his pulse quickened. Bryan rapped on the door before swinging the door open.

“Good morning.” You clipped. ‘Shit. Stay strong’ you thought to yourself as you drank him in. You nearly forgot how good he looked in his three piece suit. His gaze was smoldering and you shifted uncomfortably in your stance.

“Y/N.” Bryan greeted, with a small smile. “You look well.” 

“How’s everyone in Chicago?” You replied, ignoring his compliment as you stapled some paper together.  

“Good. You’re remembered fondly.” Bryan replied.

“I mean, can’t say I am surprised.” You retorted, as you finished organizing the conference table. “I’ll be sitting in on the depo, just so you know.”

“You think being in the room is going to keep me from doing my job?” Bryan asked, his brows furrowed.

You pointed at Bryan and then at yourself. “Aren’t I the reason you even signed on counsel?”

“Liberty Life is my client. Of course, I had to show up.” Bryan replied.

“So what – you figured you’d orchestrate this stunt and then –” 

“I didn’t orchestrate shit.” Bryan sighed, irritated. “I am doing my job.”

You cocked your head and leaned over the table slightly. “Is this a joke?” 

Bryan walked around to where you were standing. He was dangerously close to you and your eyes met his. “I miss you. Can’t we just talk?” 

You stood silently, racking your brain as to what to say. “About what? Us? What is there to say? Our relationship…” 

You moved to push back some hair when Bryan noticed the sparkling bracelet on your wrist. “You are wearing it.” 

You looked at the tennis bracelet. “Oh. Yes. It’s beautiful. Thank you. It was very generous of you.” 

Bryan reached for your hand and at the same time, Rachel entered the room. “Am I interrupting?” 

Bryan shirked back his hand. “No. Just catching up. Reminding Y/N that Chicago has better hot dogs. And that we should have never let her go.”

 ---

The deposition was grueling, lasting a few hours. Bryan was relentless in his questioning. As he fired his questions, your mind was transported back to the case you first helped him with and how you got to watch him in court.  Your whatever it was, with Bryan was complicated and was tempestuous. Deep down though, you still had deep feelings for Bryan. You spent your first month in New York crying your eyes out, wondering if you had made a mistake leaving.

You escorted your client out and then returned to gather the rest of your belongings. You paused before entering the conference room again, watching Rachel and Bryan speak. They shook hands and you wondered what that was about.  

Finally you took a breath and entered. “Everything okay?”

Rachel smiled. “I think we’ll be settling. Bryan has made a very generous offer.  

You smiled. “That’s great. I am happy to hear that.” While you were happy for your client, you were disappointed because you knew that Bryan would be leaving town. You groaned inwardly, hating how Bryan caused such a mix bag of feelings within you. 

“Walk me out?” Bryan asked. 

“Sure.” You blurted out, not even giving it so much as a second thought.

The walk to the elevator bank was silent. Finally, Bryan spoke. “Can we go out to dinner?”  

You raised a brow and sucked in a breath. “That … sounds sincere.” You searched Bryan’s eyes and realized he was indeed being genuine. “Okay.”

“Is your number the same?” Bryan asked and you nodded. “I’ll text you the details. I’ll see you tonight.” Bryan replied as the elevator dinged, signaling its arrival.

You bid Bryan adieu and went back to your office. Despite the piles of work on your desk, you found yourself distracted. You couldn’t focus one bit. Your mind kept going back to the events prior. You kept checking your phone to see if Bryan had texted you.

Groaning, you took your phone and threw it into your drawer. You opened a new browser window and were just about to throw yourself completely into your work when your phone buzzed loudly from inside your drawer.

It was Bryan. Reservations made at The River Cafe. 7pm.

You texted back. See you then.

You threw your phone back in the drawer and dropped your head into your hands. “What have I gotten myself into?” You wondered out loud. You knew you were playing with fire and that there was a real possibility of getting burned, but you looked forward to the date.

“It’s two people sharing a dinner. Nothing more. You got this.” You muttered to yourself. Part of you knew it was a lie. Part of you figured if you said it enough times, you’d believe it.

--

You left work an hour early to get ready. The River Café was situated right on the East River, just a hair south of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. You knew you needed enough time to get back to your apartment in Chelsea and then all the way down to Brooklyn. You decided to wear a cream-colored tulip hem skirt and a black lace deep v-neck blouse. The material of the blouse was quite thin and you decided to forego a bra to avoid lines. You knew your outfit was dangerous with Bryan. Simultaneously, you wanted Bryan to eat his heart out and maybe tempt fate so you could get dicked down.

You left your hair loose, just curling it slightly to make loose waves. You kept your makeup the same, just touching up your liner and lipstick. A spritz of perfume and a change of shoes to heeled strappy sandals and you were well on your way.  

Your stomach lurched as the cab sped downtown to the restaurant. You watched as the city flew by in a blur and subconsciously you played with your tennis bracelet. The cab came to a stop and you found yourself in front of the restaurant. 

Bryan was at the bar and the corner of his lips turned up into a devilish smile as you approached. Bryan wore dark jeans, a white button down and a matching navy suit jacket. The restaurant is gorgeous and the wafts of the various smells of food made your stomach rumble. 

“You look gorgeous.” Bryan complimented as he embraced you into a hug.

“Thank you. You look great yourself.” You replied. You inhaled his cologne and emotions flooded you. ‘Relax.’ You commanded to yourself.

 “I took the liberty of ordering you a glass of Malbec.” Bryan replied.

 “You remembered.” You smiled as the bartender came over with a glass.

 “Of course I did.” Bryan replied. “It’s your favorite.”

“The Catena Zapata Malbec Argentino for the lady, and an Old Fashioned for the gentleman.”

Bryan thanked the bartender, tipping him generously. You barely managed a sip when the hostess came over and seated you both at a table overlooking the East River – providing a clear shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. The view is breathtaking and you find yourself captivated by Bryan once more – all of the inner guards you had in place crumbled.

You both easily catch up over the last few months and dinner goes by quickly. Dessert is brought out and as you lick chocolate mousse off the spoon, you become acutely aware of Bryan’s lustful gaze on you. You give him a bashful look and you put the spoon down. Bryan paid for dinner while you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

The weather was warm and the breeze was inviting so you decided to walk along the Brooklyn Bridge back towards Manhattan. The tips of Bryan’s fingers grazed yours and the feeling is electric. The second time your fingers grazed his, they interlock and you hold hands the rest of the way until you get to the midpoint of the bridge. 

You take in the view of Manhattan ahead. Bryan stood next to you, also taking in the view. 

His hand traced concentric circles on your back and you involuntarily shivered. Bryan tilted your chin towards him. “I—I had a really nice time tonight.” You reply and you are surprised by how genuinely you mean it.

Bryan’s gaze lowered to your lips and instinctively you parted them. People on the bridge walk by but your oblivious to anyone else around you but Bryan. He pulled you flush against him. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck. Bryan’s lips ghosted yours and then he paused. You both breathed in each other’s air and finally you gave in, colliding your lips against his.  His kisses taste like the mousse you shared and the cocktails he had had during dinner. His tongue swirled against yours. Arousal shot to your core. A hand slipped up the slope of your side and somehow, discreetly, Bryan cupped your breast. His thumb ran over a hardened nipple and you let out a quiet moan. Finally you pull away breathless. Your lipstick was smeared and you could see evidence of it on Bryan’s lips. “Bryan we can’t do this.”

Bryan’s brows knit together and jaw tightened. He pulled away from you and faced the view of Manhattan. “Why? Because we’re on the opposite sides of a case now? I settled.”  

You don’t reply and you could feel your eyes brimming with tears.  

“I still love you. I haven’t stopped loving you. I know I hurt you. And I have apologized.” Bryan replied, his voice clipped.

“I know you have.” You replied. Your voice cracks and you kick yourself inwardly.

“Then what is it?”  

“I’m afraid.” You admitted. “I am scared you’re going to hurt me again.”

“I will do whatever it takes.” Bryan replied. “It won’t be easy since you decided to move to the wrong city.” He adds with a slight sneer.  

You laughed haughtily, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t have had to move if you just treated me like a human and not as if I were disposable.”  

“I told you I didn’t do the girlfriend thing. And then things got complicated. And I fucked up. It was all fucked. I…” Bryan paused. “I said I was sorry for fucks sake Y/N.”

You knew he was baring his soul. You turn back to him, and cup his bearded cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bryan furrowed his brow once more. “What the fuck does that mean? Does that mean you and I...” 

You nodded slowly. “We’ll try again. Because the truth is that I still love you too. And we owe it to at least really try. No more hiding anything to anyone.”

Bryan pulled you into a kiss once more. The kiss was with such intensity, it left your breathless. 

“Now would be the time for you to show me your bedroom.” Bryan growled in your ear.  

You smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

TBC.

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[masquerade-story]

Chapter 5 - Commencing Plan

"Earth has magic too. Alchemy and enchantments. Chemistry and technology. Same things, different names." Crystal spoke slowly as she examined the cloth material in her hands, checking for tears or weak points in the weave.

Grey pumped his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "I knew it! No way that backflipping robot was natural science."

"Science is the study of the world around you. It doesn't cancel out the existence of magic, it just helps to understand its rules better."

"Listen here, little miss know-it-all."

"I don't know it all, just more than you."

"Hey!"

Crystal grinned, finishing her examination without sparing an extra glance for the outraged Grey stomping his foot at her side.

"That's a low bar some days," Rayne said with an exaggerated sigh, then promptly ducked as Grey chucked a pillow at her face.

"Lils!" Grey whined, draping dramatically over his sister's lap, interrupting her own costume examination. "They're bullying me!"

"The truth hurts sometimes dearest," Lillian muttered, much to her twin's dismay. He recoiled away as though she'd flung him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.

"Betrayal! Mine own blood doth betray!"

"My point," Crystal continued, using a needle and thread to tighten up a bit of beaded tape on a hem that came loose. "Was that when I said magic exists on this world, I mean I don't know what form this world's magic is going to take, so we should be careful until we understand more. It may be familiar, like chemistry and technology, or it could be something more fantastical, like what that Eater pulled on us. Until we know the rules, we shouldn't be reckless."

"What if being reckless is part of the rules?"

"Then we'll find out soon enough and adjust our course of action."

"I hate that you have an answer for everything."

"Then stop asking questions."

Crystal and Grey stuck out their tongues at each other while Lillian giggled, and Rayne shook her head at the foolishness of it all. "Children, please."

"You're the youngest one here!"

"Hard to tell by looking, huh?" Rayne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as useful with sewing, so she'd taken to tying on little chimes and ribbons to decorate her bodhrán since her large acoustic kit was much too large and bulky for their purposes. The small frame drum, just a bit over a foot in diameter and only four inches deep, was much easier to carry and play.

When they brought their main instruments for the music video, they brought along a few supplementary instruments to use for the mixing as well. Actual recording was going to happen in a proper studio, but sometimes having them around and playing them when practicing could spark more natural inspiration than trying to force it during a recording session.

So in addition to Crystal's small harp, Grey's bouzouki, Lillian's electric keyboard and Rayne's acoustic drum kit, they also brought along macho bongos, a bodhrán, a tambourine, a fiddle, a bombard, an ocarina, a zither, enough bell bangles for the four of them, and a kalimba which Lillian was unnaturally proficient with. None of the instruments were particularly large, so it was easy to fit them in alongside everything else in the hand cart. Especially the kalimba - a hand-sized wooden board with attached staggered metal tines, which made an ethereally charming resonating sound when played despite its minuscule size.

"Rayne's got her drum, I'm taking my bouzouki, Lils is bringing..."

"Kalimba."

"Right, right. Coco, which instrument are you grabbing?"

Crystal snipped the thread with her teeth after tying a tight knot. "Since Lils is bringing the kalimba, I'll go with the fiddle."

"Ooh, are we gonna do a jig?"

"Maybe. We have to see what the climate's like in town."

"Climate is cold, Coco. There's snow."

"Emotional climate, Goofus! If something terrible happened recently, if there's an illness going around or a famine or what have you, it'd be inappropriate to run in with a nice cheerful Stick Across the Hob."

"Ah, Morrison's Jig. A classic."

"We can play it if people are friendly to us. Who knows, maybe they hate folk music. There was a time in our own history where the only socially appropriate music was religious hymns, you know."

"Gross."

"Right? So again, we just have to be careful."

"And then once they like us we can do fun songs, right?"

"Maybe slow tempo drinking songs or instrumental sea shanties to uh, test the waters."

"Har de har. Lyrics?"

"I really, really, extremely thoroughly and tragically doubt they'll speak English or any of the other languages we can sing in, and they might be alarmed by foreign languages. Classic orchestral music might be our best bet, honestly."

A potentially insurmountable language barrier was part of the reason their little group hemmed and hawed about heading to town. On the one hand they definitely needed more information about the world, but on the other hand, walking in without any knowledge or method of communication was a terrifying prospect.

So they did what they all did best, and procrastinated productively. The costumes were a good start, but they weren't sturdy enough to withstand frigid winter winds since the things were entirely cosmetic. Lillian proposed they somehow create thicker linings for their clothes, and Grey suggested they make use of the house's ability to restore items in order to do just that. But for that to work, they'd have to understand how it worked.

That night they waited with bated breath after destroying a single pillow, shredding it to bits as a sacrifice to the experimental gods of magic science. As soon as midnight ticked over on the household clocks, a new pillow appeared in its original place on its appropriate bed, and the shredded remains of the sacrificed pillow were still laying sad and limp on the floor.

"Infinite pillow glitch," Grey had whispered with delight, setting the other three to helpless giggling at his dumb joke.

The next day was spent ruining disposable objects around the house to various degrees and moving them around in order to determine the magic house's threshold of accounting damage and item 'respawning' limits. Some items were completely replaced, some were merely repaired, items from outside the property didn't count, and everything else had different thresholds for what counted as damage and what didn't.

While everyone was running around wrecking their house and generally having a good time doing magic science, Crystal put an empty jar outside of the fence to sit overnight. After the reset that night, it was fully replaced complete with its original contents, while the original empty jar remained outside of the property wedged into the snow.

Crystal smiled to herself with this new discovery, and put several small jars of preserves outside the fence in one of the small wooden crates she found in the cellar, covered with a thick towel to help insulate the glass.

"What were you getting up to?" Grey asked, as she stomped back into the house rubbing her arms to fight off the winter chill.

"Wishing we had warmer clothes," Crystal sighed, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling Grey he wouldn't get any answers yet. "Or at least pajamas with sleeves."

"Plotting something sinister?"

"Maybe."

"Rock on. Lemme know if I can help."

"Of course."

With their new knowledge regarding item respawn rules, they set about tearing more pillows and sheets into raw materials for upgrading their silly stage costumes into something functional, and copied the costumes into several spare sets for each of them just in case.

The costumes were inspired by fantasy medieval fashion and Renaissance faire finery, all four virtually identical in styling. Surcoats with silver bead tape and embroidery, high collar tunics with voluminous bishop sleeves, canvas cloaks with deep hoods, leather bracers, leather boots, leather belts with ring clasps, assorted leather bags, gloves, and leggings. Aside from the white tunic, everything was black with silver embellishments such as bead tape and braided fabric trims, or embroidery that shimmered in the light. The cloaks also sported little silver jingling bells attached along the hem, matching decorative bells on the boots and bags.

Most importantly, each of them had a unique Venetian masquerade mask with an attached beaded black face veil. The intricate, ornate masks had little bells dangling from loops on the sides, and were decorated with gemstone accents around and above the eyes; each member of Aos Sí Echtrae used a different gemstone for their stage name to capitalize on all the 'Fairy Rock' jokes they could make.

Plus, Crystal was already named after a shiny rock, so it was convenient all around.

"How are we gonna make these clothes warmer?" Grey asked, holding up his surcoat and raising an eyebrow in Lillian's direction.

"Quilting." Lillian said, gesturing with her hands to try and pantomime what she meant. "Gonna create pocket insulation layers using sheets, fill them with cotton and feather down and foam and whatever else we have to use. Then sew the pocket insulation layer in the middle of the original costume layer and an inner lining, to make the clothes warm without sacrificing their aesthetic!"

"The cloaks too?"

"The cloaks especially. They're already a strong sturdy material and have been water sealed, insulating them will basically turn them into actual quilts to shield us from the wind. In fact, I'll probably use cloak copies to make waterproof pants, since insulating leggings is a bit hard thanks to their thin material..."

"Too bad we can't make better boots too," Crystal sighed, glancing out the window. It hadn't stopped snowing since they arrived, and though most of the layers didn't completely stick, there was still a foot of snow outside they'd have to slog through to reach town. If the weather continued, they would have to put off the visit until some of that snow melted off.

"I'll break the path for you guys," Rayne said, flexing a powerful bicep. "No worries. We should still wait until it stops snowing, though. Walking through bad weather always sucks, even more so if it's over a big distance."

"Remembering high school?"

"God, that hill was brutal."

"Hey, everyone gets to help out with this!" Lillian said, pointing at the other three who were subtly edging toward the door during their conversation.

"I can't sew," Rayne quickly protested, and Lillian held up a finger to shush her.

"The lining doesn't have to be sewn pretty, the stitches just have to be strong. We need to make several copies of the belts, I want to repurpose them into something else... And I wanna keep an original copy of the costumes as well as have several sets of each so this is gonna take a few days worth of resetting to complete. Oh! Rayne, you can find big branches to make into walking sticks, the ground will be uneven under the snow and we don't wanna trip."

"Yes ma'am..."

Under Lillian's watchful eye, everyone got to work on different tasks in order to prepare for their first visit to another world's town, feeling a combination of trepidation and excitement in their hearts.

------

"Hey guys? There's uh. There's something weird." Rayne's voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as she hurried toward the living room where the others were gathered around the finished costumes and enjoying the last of their breakfast.

"What in the... Is that... Is that a telescope?!" Grey asked incredulously as Rayne rounded the corner with something large and heavy in her arms.

"I was checking out the study and found it in one of the cabinets. So, the study has that windowed alcove bit that sticks out from the side of the house, right?"

"Yeah, like a breakfast nook but for books. Book nook!" Grey grinned, switching his attention from the costumes to the big brass telescope that Rayne was hurriedly setting up in front of the largest living room window. "This thing is ancient! There's no way this isn't some priceless antique or something!"

"Yes yes it's very cool and belonged to a former trade ship navigator about a hundred years ago don't ask how I know that I'm not sure either I understand why this weirds Coco out now, but that's not important!" Rayne wheezed, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting the focus before stepping away. "Look at the town."

Grey peeked through first, too excited about the telescope itself to wait much longer. He stared in silence for a good long moment, then frowned and stepped away to give Lillian room. "That's... You're right, that is weird. But I can't quite put my finger on why... I mean, aside from the architecture itself? But something else is bugging me..."

"It's hard to see detail from here even with the telescope, but I think some of them had glowing symbols decorating them?" Lillian said with a shrug after she had her turn. "They're pretty, and unusual for sure. Either magic or electricity, but I hope it's magic. That'd be cool!"

Crystal took her turn last, automatically touching her face to lift up the glasses that she no longer had to wear. She gave a soft laugh at finding her face naked, shook her head, and peered through the eyepiece.

The buildings were indeed strangely pretty, smooth white or silver constructs with colorful glass roofs, in sleek appealing shapes that more suited a science fiction setting rather than fantasy. Some had glowing symbols etched under arched windows or in rows along walls, but the light was dim and flickering, and it was impossible to tell from afar what shape the symbols had.

"The town has a uniform layout," Crystal said quietly, furrowing her brow. "It's a planned city. Wide roads on a grid, a perfectly arched wall surrounding the whole thing except where the harbor is. The tallest building is in the middle, might be a palace or castle? But... There's no people."

"Wait, what?!" Lillian exclaimed while Grey snapped his fingers in realization.

"That's it! Even though it's winter, there'd still be people moving around and working and stuff, right? But those roads are totally empty! No cars or wagons or pedestrians or nothing."

Crystal swung the telescope around, peering into the empty harbor, then past that toward the horizon where puffy white sails broke the barrier between sea and sky. "Ah, the ships... The city is really sleek and almost futuristic, but those ships are..."

Grey nudged Crystal aside to steal the eyepiece again, bouncing his leg with excitement. "Yo! Those are some real nice maritime vessels, my friends! Four-masted wooden masterpieces, and is that mizzenmast lateen-rigged? Squared raised stern, that's a nice prominent booty on those ships for sure. Those big boys are either carracks or galleons, or whatever they're called in this world. Whew, they're real beauties!"

"Was it an evacuation?" Lillian asked, concern coloring her voice, but Grey shook his head.

"Doubt it. The sails are torn and mended all over the place, and I think I see minor hull damage on the ones up close, but those lads are definitely pointed toward the town, and resting in a recognizable formation at that. They've been through a long journey to get here specifically, I think. In fact..." Grey swung the telescope, adjusting the focus as he went, searching to and fro until he spotted what he was looking for.

"They were further away when we first got here," Rayne said, holding up her fingers in a little pinching gesture. "The sails were like, this big on the horizon."

Grey nodded, then exclaimed aloud. "Aha! Found a pinnace! I dunno why it took them so long to approach, but they're moored in the deeps now, not sheltering in the harbor. And there, by the town wall! There's a little camp. Looks like... Ten people? They used a small pinnace boat to approach so it's probably a landing party scouting the area to see if it's safe to approach."

"I didn't see people! Let me see!" Rayne bumped Grey aside with her hip, stealing the telescope back. "There they are! Oh, they're still unloading the boat."

"It was still snowing pretty hard until like, today. They probably only just sent the team out." Grey said, and Rayne nodded in agreement.

"Looks like it. Hmm... Their clothes do look a little like our costumes, I think? They're tiny colorful blurs, but I think I see a couple people in cloaks, and possibly armor? Using our costumes is probably the best idea after all."

"But now things have gotten a bit more complicated," Crystal muttered, drumming her fingers on her bottom lip as thoughts tumbled around in her mind. "There's no permanent settlement yet. For some reason that city is empty, and we don't know why. The city looks more advanced than anything the people in wooden ships would be capable of making, no matter how nice the ships are, so they probably aren't the same civilization. If they have that many ships, are they colonizers? Are there natives to this land we need to worry about? How would they see us if we, as strangers who don't even speak their language, suddenly walked up while they're trying to settle an apparently empty foreign city?"

Grey and Lillian exchanged glances, while Rayne turned from the telescope and placed a hand on her hip. "Coco. Relax."

"How can I relax? If they're not friendly we're probably boned! They'll definitely come explore the forest for resources and they'll find us and-"

"Crystal!"

Crystal flinched as Rayne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake, bringing her back to her senses. She hadn't even realized she'd hunched over and started scratching at the delicate pale flesh of her arms, bright red tracks screaming their distress under her fingernails. She shivered, forcing her clawed hands to relax, and took a deep breath. "Ah... S-sorry, I... I just..."

"Does it feel dangerous?" Lillian asked, her voice calming Crystal's nerves with its serenity.

She thought a moment, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No. It doesn't feel dangerous. I'm just... Worried, I think. Anxious. There's so many unknowns..."

"If they're gonna find us anyway, let's go to them on our own terms," Grey said, giving Crystal's face a gentle tap with his knuckles. "Right? We readied the costumes anyway, and Rayne whittled us some fine walking sticks."

"I even polished them."

"See? She polished them, Coco."

"There was wood lacquer in the maintenance closet."

"Wood lacquer, Coco!"

"Alright, alright!" Crystal threw up her hands in defeat, struggling in vain to hide the growing smile on her face. "You win. Let's get dressed and go make first contact."

"The masks are mandatory!" Grey said, grabbing his off the living room table. "If we're gonna be a minstrel group we gotta look the part!"

"I finished the slings for your instruments, so you can carry the cases on your back under the cloaks. Should make it less of a strain to lug them through the snow." Lillian looked proud as she showed off the repurposed leather belts, carefully measured to fit each of them and evenly distribute the weight of the heavy cases across their torsos. "My kalimba is small enough to fit in a bag so I felt like this is the least I could do to help."

"You're so great Lils," Grey sighed, giving his twin a grateful hug.

"I'll go get the sticks," Rayne said, running upstairs.

Meanwhile, Crystal rolled her eyes and heaved a despondent sigh. "Man... I have to wear actual clothes again..."

"It's too cold to be a nudist, Coco."

"I'm not a nudist, I'm just texture sensitive!"

"You'd be a nudist if it was socially acceptable."

"Eh... Debatable. I'm kinda lumpy."

"No you're just soft and huggable."

"Which makes me lumpy. Oh well, at least the costume materials feel nice." Crystal sighed once more, grabbing her outfit off the living room table. "Alright, everyone turn off their vision for a second."

"We have all seen you naked, Crystal."

"We all took turns washing your back when you went through physical therapy, Crystal."

"Also this is the living room."

"Nudist."

"Exhibitionist."

"Can't hear you guys I'm already naked!" Crystal stuck out her tongue as, contrary to her statement, she headed down the hallway toward the bathroom in order to change in privacy.

"Who's naked?" Rayne called down the stairs, accompanied by the thumping sound of four walking sticks repeatedly hitting the banister as she descended.

"Everyone except you!" Grey called back, his voice muffled as he pulled the blouse over his head.

"I had to get the sticks, no one told me we were having a nudey party!"

"Nudey parties are better fun with guests that aren't basically your relatives," Lillian grumbled, and Rayne nodded as she dumped the walking sticks on the nearest sofa.

"Eh, true. No offense, you guys are our unofficial adopted siblings."

"No no, it's mutual. You both are our sisters, seeing you lot naked does not rustle my jimmies in the slightest."

"Completely unrustled?"

"Not even a jostle."

"Damn."

"Wait, why are we unofficially adopted? There's no birth records in this world for us. We can just be siblings and no one will ever be able to prove otherwise."

"Shit, you're right! Okay, you're all adopted by me now. You can call me Mama."

"Like hell we will, you're the youngest!"

"Respect your elders, young man!"

Crystal laughed to herself as their voices echoed faintly through the closed bathroom door, then focused on getting dressed. Her costume was modified further thanks to a personal request she'd made, adding a long black wrap skirt that went to her ankles to be worn over the leggings. She also added a silver sash around the waist and under the belt, made using one of the spare bedsheets.

She didn't mind pants so long as the material was nice, but she preferred the swish of long skirts and dresses because it felt more fun, and if she had to wear clothes anyway they might as well be layered and interesting. Just so long as the inner layer actually touching her body was a nice comfortable fabric!

Lillian made the skirt match the rest of the outfit using bead tape and braided fabric, and liked the resulting skirt so much she added a shorter skirt and some frilly modifications to her own outfit. Then Grey wanted some fancy embellishments and dangling cloth bits to look more dramatic, so in the end only Rayne kept the original design.

"We look amazing," Grey said with a delighted sigh as everyone gathered together in the living room once more to don their masks.

"Are the masks really necessary?" Lillian mumbled as she tugged on the gossamer veil, causing the beaded decorations woven into the fine material to jingle and shimmer. "I mean... What if not being able to see our faces scares them, or makes them suspicious?"

"Then we can take them off?" Grey said with a shrug, slinging the shoulder strap of his instrument case over his arm before settling his cloak. "But I think it adds to our mystique as wandering minstrels, and we look fantastic rather than threatening. Plus, they're the ones landing near our house, right? We're the ones living here. For all they could know, it's culturally inappropriate to walk around with naked faces!"

"We'll have to get pretty close to know for sure," Crystal said. After a moment's thought, she took out her hairclip and left it on the coffee table, allowing her long blonde hair to tumble free in the brief moment before she put up her hood. She'd spent enough time in cold climates to know long hair was best left protecting one's neck from cold air. "We'll watch their body language as we approach. If they seem hostile, we'll back off. In the meantime, we should bring some food. It's a long hike."

Everyone agreed, filing into the kitchen to pack snacks and sandwiches into their bags. Crystal tucked a few jars of preserves into hers, bringing only those and a couple sandwiches instead of cramming the space with small packs of miniature cookies and potato chips like everyone else. Her choice of foodstuff went unnoticed, since everyone else was busy playing Tetris trying to fit their chosen assortment of snacks into relatively small bags.

Once everyone felt prepared enough for their journey, they took a moment to brace themselves, each grabbing a homemade walking stick, then stepped out of the house into the snow.

[arlocedwards]

╰ ✧ HARRY STYLES. MUSE NINE. PANSEXUAL ❞ say hello to the s club’s very own ARLO EDWARDS! a TWENTY-FOUR YEAR OLD, CISMALE that goes by HE/HIM pronouns. i heard they were voted BEST SHOULDER TO CRY ON in high school, which says a lot about them because they’re very IDEALISTIC and INTUITIVE, but watch out for their DETACHED and DESTRUCTIVE side as well. i hope they’re ready to take a break from being a MUSICIAN and finally get this summer started! ( kt / 24 / pst / she/her )

hiya! i am kt &+ underneath the read more is some info about my bb, arlo. ** insert clown emoji but make him yee-haw ** 

trigger warning : death .

NAME: arlo cornelius edwards. GENDER: cismale. PRONOUNS: he, him. AGE: twenty-four ( 24 ). BIRTHDAY: february 14th. ZODIAC: aquarius !! HOMETOWN: kent, england. ORIENTATION: pansexual OCCUPATION: drummer. LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english & french. FACECLAIM: harry styles ~ currently featuring long hair.  :’-) 

kt’s note: I KNOW THIS IS SO LONG, SO IF YOU DON’T READ IT, I WILL NOT GET OFFENDED. 

but, just read this so y’know what you’re getting yourself into when interactions open : death tw: arlo will be joining this summers reunion coming from his parents home, post-funeral, trying to escape boxing up his brothers stuff and wanting to not be pitied. :’-( my boy is going through it, so his typical behavior and personality is gonna be v muted for a while.

ᴀʀʟᴏ'ꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ

arlo was born in kent, england. i know what you’re wondering, and yes, he does have an accent. :’-) his family moved to new york when he was five years old because arlo’s father was offered a high level position within his company.

arlo was born into a loving family, him being the middle child. he has two supportive parents, sasha edwards (his mother), & carter edwards (his father). there are two years separating him from both his older brother and younger sister. his older brother ( now deceased ) was named holden edwards, and his little sister is named ivy edwards. his older brother can be imagined as eric matthews from boy meets world ( at the end of the day, they were bffs ) & his little sister is quite literally cher horowitz from clueless mixed w/ a splash of bianca stratford from 10 things i hate about you  ( they are polar opposites which makes for a fun dynamic !! )

growing up, arlo enjoyed playing all types of sports - there truly wasn’t anything that he wasn’t really good at, and that’s simply because he’s always been such a competitive individual. he would go home and practice a skill or trick for hours in order to be able to come back the next day and whoop everyone’s asses. he will fight  you over board games and make alliances in monopoly to mess w/ you. 

his interest in taking up an instrument kicked in when he was seven years old. he and his dad were driving back from a hockey game together late at night, and his dad played him the song moby dick by led zeppelin & he knew it was something that he wanted to pursue bc “john bonham was a genius.” ~ arlo vc. and so his dad gifted him a drum set on his eighth birthday !! :’-) soft. but over the years he was exposed to other instruments and can also play the guitar, piano, and he has a nice set of pipes !! harry styles being his vc as well ~ makes it easy. he really wants to learn the saxophone tho??? don’t get him started - he will go on and on and on.

throughout highschoool ; arlo was a v dedicated student. although he’s a bit reckless and loved to goof off, he was always acing classes and applying himself. he genuinely cares for others, you could’ve seen his ass volunteering at a soup kitchen with his mom on sundays and what not! just soft things.

until now - now anti-soft. hard things.  sdgjdjgd okay, so, arlo is A Mess™️. and i say that with so much love in my bones. arlo is the type of friend that is honest, and all about tough love when it’s needed. he doesn’t mind getting into a fight or two if he knows its worth the outcome he’s envisioned. he will tell you when you’re fucking up, and if you’re throwing a punch as a result - catch him leaning into it. this ties in l8r !!

he’s just a bit desperate to feel against following the death of his brother & also post-break up with shanley? ( which give me one hot sec and i’ll go into those v soon ) but overall he just wants to feel like himself again, y’know ?? don’t we all. amen & what not. to break it down, he just feels so intensely that he ends up numbing himself in the aftermath of it all, and he’s sadly willing to put himself into harms way in order to get a bit of that - happiness / pain, it doesn’t matter to him as long as he no longer feels numb. so, if ya see him with some scrapes and stitches ~ MIND YA BUSINESS.

arlo’s lurve life : woo ! okay, welcome back -- let’s get into it. so shanley and arlo dated throughout hs and into their first year of college, for a whopping five years together before they broke up. god if you’ve made it this far, i applaud you...but hmu and let me know your fav color, okay? like and comment below ?? subscribe ?? thx. OKAY BACK TO BUSINESS. in case you’re wondering who broke up with who, gosh so nosy, let me just tell you ‘twas arlo. he did it, we can unfollow his ass now. BUT ~ he didn’t want to ? y’know. he felt like due to the long distance, she was missing out on college experiences and her waiting by the phone for him to call was just sad, and he felt guilty. he wanted her to enjoy her time and felt as if he was weighing her down. although he did try make an effort to fix this doing by visiting her that weekend at her university in chicago, but when he came across her with friends he felt stupid and bailed back to cali again. a couple months later he called her, hoping to apologize for his poor judgement and admit to his mistake of ending the relationship, but she wasn’t the one who answered the phone. arlo assumed the random guy who answered was shanley’s new boyfriend (although , he was shanley’s roommates boyfriend but my sad dumb ass boi didn’t know ). arlo only assumed the voice belonged to shan’s bf bc he swears the voice distinctly said “coming, babe!” ( although he did, just not to shanley) and ever since arlo’s been a bit jaded when it comes to romance. shanley called him back later that day, and arlo shrugged her off bc he was jealous af and drunk - claiming he “butt dialed her and it wouldn’t happen again.” :’-( since then they haven’t been in contact. 

he was so in love with shanley, and despite him being the one to end things, he’s never fully gotten over her. he’s definitely hooked up with other people, but my boy is not the committing type after that relationship. 

after high school, arlo attended stanford university, as they offer one of the best criminal law programs across the nation. wahoo ! yahtzee !

after graduating college, arlo moved to san francisco & moved in with ali !! they have a nice little place overlooking the golden gate bridge w/ quality acoustics for their creative music projects. / also where he currently lives !! :’-) we love a bromance.

while in san francisco, arlo attended university to continue on pursuing his law degree  and after two years was able to graduate with his juris doctor. 

TRIGGER WARNING : DEATH / CAR ACCIDENT / DRUNK DRIVING. the death of his brother is very recent, like four weeks ago recent. arlo and his brother were road tripping across the states back to their family home in NY to visit their parents, when a drunk driver struck the driver side of their vehicle, which on impact killed his brother. arlo has survivors guilt as a result from the accident. he and his brother had switched seats a couple minutes prior to the collision, after arlo had asked to switch with him in order to rest for a bit. :’-( miraculously, arlo was unscathed in the greater scheme of all things injury-based. he’s entering the villa w/ a couple broken ribs, broken left arm and scrapes/cuts. so plz sign his cast. 

post-break up with shanley, they had some type of unspoken agreement of trading off years of who gets to attend the summer( aka who has custody of the sclub ) and so last year, arlo did not attend. however, this year, they somehow got their info wrong about who was going / not going, so they have found themselves here at the same time. this being the first time they’ve seen each other since holidays during their first year of college previous to their break up. so get ready for some spice.

last summer, since arlo wasn’t attending the sclub reunion, he was taking the california state bar exam. which is only offered twice a year - he opted for the one in july and passed! :’-) he spent some time after the exam in europe with hastrid. <3

however, arlo will be joining this summers reunion coming from his parents home, post-funeral, trying to escape boxing up his brothers stuff and wanting to not be pitied. :’-( my boy is going through it, so his typical behavior and personality is gonna be v muted for a while.

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

overall : arlo truly strives to be kind, and genuinely wants for everyone to get along. treat people with kindness and the like. he has the best of intentions, but often times that can get a bit muddled with the way he goes about things due to his chaotic energy. he will do anything to lighten a dark mood, and will sacrifice / throw himself under the bus if its needed. however, he also is the type to cause the dark mood depending on the day.

however rn, with his current state of mind, arlo is just going through the motions. numbing himself with unhealthy outlets and has a different type of mentality. definitely engaging in a bit of the more chaotic activities, as well as leaving everyone alone to their own vices as well. whereas his typical behavior would be more so attempting to lead them onto a better path if it meant well for their overall wellbeing. 

habits : smoking cigarettes ( ali likely nags him bc they aren’t herbal ) . staying up into the early hours of the morning, and yet somehow still an early riser ( hence, he drinks an absurd amount of coffee ). yeah, hence. - get it, from the house bunny? sdjfkngdg any who, he’s in a phase of numbing via alcohol and drugs rn. 

personality type : INTP - T / THE LOGICIAN

moral alignment : chaotic good

tarot card : the hermit ( currently )

character inspo : connor walsh from how to get away with murder, jess mariano from gilmore girls, & ambrose spellman from chilling adventures of sabrina ( literally his #1 ranked personality match on a quiz i took ) !! so, we have that ! and also a heavy sprinkle of seth cohen from the o.c.

ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

the album ‘fine line’ by golden child, harry styles in this case will be used as a hc for arlo. arlo wrote and recorded the album - all songs included, with his muse being shanley over the course of the last couple of years. he’s just kind of been sitting on the entire thing, never really feeling it was the right time to release his work/side solo project...but later this summer, he may just leak it. :’-)

arlo is a vegetarian ! he has been since his freshman year of high school.

those who inspire him : roger taylor, mick jagger, alex van halen, john bonham.

LUNA : ali and arlo co-founded the band with friends edie dorn and guy perkins in junior high. playing gigs where they could as often as possible. arlo was on lead vocals, ali as lead guitarist, edie on bass, and guy on drums. although when it came down to recording and what not they seemed to bounce around when it came to other instruments - v experimental. the band took off in college, prior to something strange and over the years they’ve produced numerous albums and have won a couple awards. 

red roses are his Thing™️ ; fans of the band will walk up and hand him them. i think that’s soft. and i am here for it.

he loves fancy wine ~ he’s cultured.

fun fact : dirty dancing is v much so a sharlo movie. they used to practice and be able to successfully pull of the jump & lift dance move literally just for fun / bc they wanted to. after nailing the lift, they learned the entire dance - i can't. dfjkgndjkg SOFT.

arlo has all of harry’s tattoos !! makes it simpler, might add more along the way !! stay tuned, folks !!

also the ‘ h & s ‘ rings that will be seen in photographs later on are for his brother, holden, and bbg, shanley </3

arlo is a gucci enthusiast - having much of his closet filled with staple pieces over the years. to further his love for the brand, he was recently asked to be in an upcoming campaign for the fall season - he’s v jazzed about it.

ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖋𝖑𝖚𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 ( open connection ) : with arlo being a bit chaotic in nature, he needs somebody that is likely going to steer him clear from all the ideas that’ll bring him to the brink of disaster. he’s impulsive and in that desperate attempt to feel again, he’s very likely to bring a bit of mayhem upon himself. so while they may constantly worrying and attempting to talk his ideas down, he’s trying to get them to go along with his plan. it may be rare that he actually takes their advice, but when he does it seems to be for the best.

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉 / 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖎𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖙 ( open connection ) : these two know how to have a good time together. despite the amount of alcohol they are throwing back and the shenanigans they find themselves in as a result, this is a time where they also find themselves confiding in one another. if you look at their camera rolls, it’s likely they have tons of embracing and unflattering videos and pics of one another, in between their sob-worthy confessionals and venting/rants. these two trust one another, and although they love getting wreckT together, they find themselves discussing very raw and personal details.

open to other connection you may have in mind! :’-)  LMK!!!! <3 i love me some chemistry !!!

ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ( featured on arlo’s connections page here !! )

𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖋𝖎𝖙𝖘 ( taken - simon peralta ) : these two went through rough break ups of their own, and a rebound didn’t sound too bad to either of them at the time things started. it may not occur all the time, but they sometimes still find themselves offering up to one another. this occurred more frequently then any of arlo’s one night stands, obvi, but it never surpassed anything other than the physical aspect of their relationship. the nature of their relationship outside of the bedroom can go either way !!!  :’-)

𝖆 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 ( taken - ali mallick ) : as if living together for the past two years wasn’t enough, ali & arlo are also roommates every summer that arlo attends the sclub reunions. these two are always laughing, and saying some ridiculous ish. you’ll likely hear loud jam sessions and howling laughter / the occasional excited shouting back and forth from their room in the late hours. they are truly nothing but a good time and tbh, they know it. that and the fact that they have the best hair in the villa. djfgnjkdfg FIGHT ME !!

𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖍 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ( taken - shanley evans ) : these two began their relationship in their freshman year of high school - spending five years together before breaking up in their freshman year of college. * cries in sharlo * they were the “it” couple, no pennywise included … unless ? anyways, everyone thought that they were going to get married, and arlo was v much in love / thinking shanley was his romantic soulmate. yet when they did break up everyone was shookith - even the birds and the bees.

𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖇𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖘 ( taken - ali mallick , willow finch , sirena rose ) : these four formed something strange. arlo is the drummer of the group, and also writes some songs for the group. they’ve blown up over the years and are a quite successful group.

𝖛 𝖘𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌-𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖕 ( taken - sirena rose / willow finch ) : these two have a love/hate relationship, very sibling like filled with pranks, competition, teasing and playful banter. however, when it comes down to it they have so much love and respect for one another. they know that no matter what happens they will always have one anothers back and be supportive of the other. pure relationship.

𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖎𝖊 ( taken - delilah jacobs ) : ride or dies ! need i say more ?? these two have one anothers backs despite anything and everything going on otherwise. they play in to one anothers antics and enjoy one anothers presence as they can likely be seen dragging one another across town and causing a bit of mayhem together. you can catch them in their beautiful, bitch #1 & #2 tee's.

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖔𝖓 ( taken - ramona verdez ) : it would be wrong to say one is the more likely the bad influence over the other, although arlo may just be. these two find themselves bounding into, well hell, ( i guess??? ) together. playing on one anothers impulsiveness and if one ends up in the back of a police car, the other is handcuffed to them. and yet despite the length of their potential injuries, they find themselves thinking of something crazier to subject them to the next time around. with arlo having his law degree, he’s always able to squeeze them out of trouble before it gets too serious, so trust - it’s ok !! 

𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 / 𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖗 𝖔𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘 ( taken -  izzy de la rosa ) : these two may have ran in the same circle, but were complete opposites when it came down to their personalities / styles / perhaps even humor, so it was expected for them to stand their distance. however despite the odds, they just clicked !! opposites attract and what not, ya dig??  somehow their dynamic just works and they have a lot of fun together by introducing new things to one another.

[feraliix]

MY CRESTORIA THEORIES YEE HAW

spoilers ahoy, steer clear!

five of these involve vicious, the last involves misella!!

THREE THEORIES FOR VICIOUS’ ORIGIN. 

1) vicious was an experiment made by malcolm (or malcolm was involved somehow, we know there are multiple scientists involved), which is why vicious wasn’t in the last chapter (YES I KNOW HE WENT OFF LONG BEFORE, but also, isn’t it convenient he wasn’t there for this MAJOR PLOT POINT? like, genuinely, from a writer’s standpoint, why wasn’t he there) --- which insinuates, with vicious’ special powers involving the blood sin, he is mixed up with a ton of special monsters, & he’s kind of like ratatosk but in one body (og soul dead perhaps?) & much more powerful

2) prototype humanoid enforcer went rogue!! so he’s basically like an older version of makina, but he went rogue and ‘dark’ (black vers. ???). gave him too much empathy & he figured out how to think for himself, he deemed someone not guilty & refused to kill them. him rejecting an order to kill was enough to brand him as a transgressor & it ‘tainted’ him in a sense & he created the ability to manipulate a stain of guilt into a blood sin. this could be why the king is almost desperate in bringing the great transgressor in because he’s just actually the biggest threat to the vision orb system they have.

3) he was created by someone to combat the transgressor mark, enforcers, & vision orbs system. specifically created to manipulate a stain of guilt into a blood sin.

4) the god of their world regretted their creation of the vision orbs after watching the humans abuse them & how evil humans still ran around rampant, so they created Vicious to dissolve the system 

NOW PLOT THEORIES

5) this correlates to theory 2 specifically, since he would have roots in being an enforcer, but perhaps the people behind creating him & makina have created something to control them if they ever defect again like vicious did (they learned their lesson)---so they control him at one point to attack the party, until it’s control is broken / the signal is too far / whatever plot point there that brings vicious back blah. this could be taken in two directions---

either misella starts trying to control the party / kanata by saying vicious is unstable and a liability and all that, then that could turn into a huge fight that ends up in either everyone going separate ways for a hot sec, or kicking misella out entirely (bc kanata maybe just SNAPS and has the same ‘KNOCK IT OFF’ moment that emil has @ marta in symphonia 2) 

or vicious removes himself from the group bc he can’t risk them getting hurt by him again if they ever take control of him like that in the future (LIKE HE JUST GOT COMFORTABLE BEING IN A FAMILY UNIT??? HE CANT RISK THAT MAN!!!)

sub theory 5.1 stems possibly into plot theory 6 below

6) ACTUAL REAL TRAITOR misella is manipulated by the enforcers / baddies whatever when she’s off-screen at any point to basically sell off vicious to them with a trap in exchange for kanata’s freedom or whatever --- the whole thing backfires bc haha!!! sike!!! they’re gonna kill them ALL AND IT’S ALL HER FAULT HAHA!!! vicious or kanata get seriously hurt, oh and also they were gonna maybe kill her too haha 

sub theory 5.3 where vicious DOESNT snap out of it and he’s taken by the enforcers and stuff and it turns into a rescue mission ( cue misella going NO, HE’S OBVIOUSLY BAD LET’S JUST LEAVE HIM and everyone else going ‘LMFAO ARE YOU STUPID??? HE WAS BEING CONTROLLED ITS NOT HIS FAULT???? HAVE YOU SRSLY LEARNED NOTHING???’ then everyone ditches her.... I SWEAR THIS ISN’T MISELLA BASHING , I JUST GENUINELY THINK THIS SJHFBDFNJ)

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Your Time Is Up

There was an old man sitting in front of their studios when Rhett drove into the lot. He sat on the pavement, not far from the unassuming side door that they used as their main entrance. At first, Rhett thought he might have been a homeless person. But as he walked up to him, he thought again. His hair was long, wavy and grey, as was his beard but both were styled and cut neatly. He had on clean clothes albeit a bit weird ones. 

He smiled as he saw Rhett approaching and started to get up. He was holding onto his back and made a soft sound of pain, something that was a mix of a huff and a moan. Rhett hurried to him. 

“Oh gosh. Here, let me help you,” he said grabbing the man’s arm and pulling him up with a groan of his own.

“Thanks, shouldn’t have sat down like that but I was too early and… You’ll know how it goes soon enough,” the man muttered and straightened himself to his full length. Rhett was surprised to find them almost at eye level.

“Can I help you with somet- ?” he was saying when the man’s bespectacled eyes found his. Rhett stepped back and drew a sharp breath. He had to be dreaming. The man smirked at him. The movement of his lips was familiar but still strangely backwards somehow.

“Hmm. I thought I was dumber then. Nice to know I was wrong,” the man said with a low chuckle.

“Wha-?  Is this a prank?” Rhett asked and stepped back closer. His gaze roamed the features of the man’s face.

“No. But I would think that as well. I mean…you... yeah, you’ll get that eventually.”

Rhett’s hand rose and he almost touched the man’s face but at the last second decided against it. It felt like a violation. Too strange.

“I – I can’t. This is insane. Are you like a lost relative or something? A stray McLaughlin?” Rhett asked laughing awkwardly. The man smirked again and shook his head.

“I guess I celebrated too early... No, dummy. I’m you.”

Rhett threw his head back and laughed. He had to. What else could he do? The whole thing made no sense. It had to be a prank.

“The make-up is amazing. Who did this? Is this for a video? Where are the cameras?” Rhett asked and looked around. The parking lot was silent and empty. 

Something akin to dread started bubbling up in Rhett’s chest. He swallowed and turned to look at the man again. He just stood there and stared at Rhett, faint annoyance painting his face.

“When we were fourteen, we were obsessed with Keanu Reeves. Point Break had just come out. That was the first guy we jerked to.”

Rhett took a trembling step backwards. He had never told that to anyone. Not a soul knew. No one else but him.

“Fuck.” The curse came from deep within his chest and hung heavy between them. The man – him? – nodded.

“I know. It’s a lot to take in. And I don’t have a lot of time. I shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re me?”

“I’m you.”

“From the future.”

“That’s how aging works, yes.”

“Fuck.”

“You already said that.”

“I don’t…”

“Yeah, yeah… Amazing. Incredible. Time travel. Wow. Anyway, I came to tell you…”

“What are you talking about? I don’t – This is not real!” Rhett was stepping back now. He needed to get away. He was losing his mind.

“No!” the older man grabbed his wrists with surprising strength. “Listen to me! I just said I don’t have much time. And I’m gonna be in trouble when I go back. So, I need you to listen and do as I say.”

The man’s eyes were intense and vulnerable. My eyes. Rhett swallowed down a sob. He felt like he was slowly falling to pieces. The reality around him was crumbling and he with it. But he nodded because the man seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“You need to tell him. Today.”

“What?” Rhett asked, more confused than before. “Tell who?”

“Link.”

Rhett’s heart skipped a beat. Now he was listening. The man chuckled.

“That got your attention, didn’t it? Okay, now listen closely. You tell him how you feel. Today.”

Rhett felt his cheeks burning and he averted his eyes. The man sighed.

“You do realize you don’t have to be embarrassed. I love him like you do. More probably –  since I’ve had like forty more years to develop my feelings.”

“I just… I can’t. It’s not that easy. He doesn’t...”

“He will. Not right away. But I promise. He will. But you have to do it today.”

“What? Why?”

“He meets her tomorrow. I figured it out. I’m sure, okay? Tomorrow they meet and it’s all over. Unless you plant the seed today.”

“I can’t just walk up to him and…and… I don’t know?! Blurt it out?”

 “Of course you can. We’ve done it before!”

“Not with him!”

The man shook his head. “Don’t I know it,” he murmured more to himself and his gaze flitted somewhere far away for a moment. He looked pained.

“So, in the future, we’re not…?” Rhett asked quietly.

“No.”

Rhett’s shoulders slumped and a whimper fell from his lips. It should’ve made him embarrassed but he was well beyond that now.

“I know. I’m sorry. We always thought that one day… But that day never comes. He marries her. They’re reasonably happy. He won’t…” the man’s voice broke suddenly. He closed his eyes and a lone tear burst from between his lids. He took in a shaky breath before continuing. “But you can change that. Tell him.”

The man took Rhett’s hands on his own and squeezed tight.

“Promise me. Promise yourself. No more hemming and hawing. No more second guessing. Just say the words. Deal with the consequences. Hope for a better tomorrow. For you.”

Rhett held on tight. Stared at himself in the eyes and fought the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

“I promise.”

“Good.” The man relaxed considerably. He glanced at a strange looking watch-like apparatus on his wrist.

“I have to go soon. I was just hoping…” he muttered and his gaze flitted to the driveway.

“What’s gonna happen to you?” Rhett realized suddenly. “If I manage to change it?”

The man smiled a small, knowing smile but shook his head.

“Can’t tell you. You’ll know in time.”

A car drove into the lot and both of them whipped to watch it park next to Rhett’s car. Link opened the door and was looking at them curiously.

“Good morning!” he hollered and waved at them.

“Keep your promise,” the man whispered and turned to walk towards Link. He looked back after a few steps. ”I’m sorry to rob this first one from you. But you’ll have plenty later… I hope.”

Rhett had only a moment to feel confused by his words. He watched as the man took a few running steps and crashed into Link who’d just gotten out of his car. Link huffed in surprise but had no time to react otherwise. The man’s hands gently cupped his face and pressed a desperate kiss on his lips. When they parted he said something to Link. Rhett didn’t hear what it was but he saw Link’s confused expression.

The man turned, pressed his hand on his chest, smiled at Rhett and disappeared.

They both stared at the spot he’d stood in.

“What the crap?!” Link uttered. His eyes rose from the pavement to Rhett who was walking towards him with purpose.

“What did I – I mean what did he say to you?” Rhett asked his stunned best friend.

“He said… ‘I’m sorry. I had to do this, just this once’.”

Rhett let out a short laugh – the cheek of him – but then he felt a pang of pain for his older self. He wondered briefly what kind of existence he’d catapulted back into.

“What is going on?” Link asked stepping closer to Rhett. Rhett met him in the middle and took his hand. Link watched in amazement as their fingers intertwined together.

“Let’s go inside. I need to talk to you about something.”

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

The Price to be Paid

Hey gang! 

This is my very first Tumblr fanfiction. I used to write waaaay back but it’s been awhile. Just finished my first playthrough of Red Dead Redemption 2 and of course needed to write something about my story with it. 

Feel free to message me with feedback or thoughts, like I said it’s been a few years so I’ll post this to Ao3 after awhile. Please like and reblog only, no reposting. 

Chapter 1 

“See that one? Easy. Go nick his watch.”

You laughed and smiled over your shoulder at Abigail as you walked over towards the cart that had stopped from one of the nearby farms selling apples in the middle of town, red and bursting to be eaten. A man who was picking out which ones looked best out of the pile didn’t seem flustered by your sudden appearance which was good. It made the next part easier. 

“Oof! Excuse me sir, I didn’t see you there. Are you okay? Oh, let me help wipe that off your shirt.” 

Coffee bled a dark brown down the man’s white shirt as he hastily moved to grab something to stop the spread, and you were ready with your handkerchief. While he snatched it out of your hands, you removed his pocket watch without him knowing, the pressure of your hands on his torso masking the motion. The cold coffee had been sitting on the edge of the cart as if someone had forgotten it in their haste to leave for the center of town. He huffed and hawed and made a bigger fuss than you could have hoped for, but the nearby prying eyes only saw a silly girl who managed to spill coffee onto the boy buying apples. 

You smiled one last time at him and batted your eyes then flounced down the street and around the alley to meet Abigail. She laughed and grabbed your shoulder while you showed her the watch; no engraving or photo slipped inside which made you relax at the fact it wasn’t overly sentimental. 

“Now see, this here is exactly what you can pawn off. A good 8 dollars for this, plus whatever else you can grab adds up fast. Then maybe...a way out?” her eyes were kind as her mouth twisted into a coy smile. 

You smiled back at Abigail. The past few months while she and her gang were in town you had grown close. She hadn’t divulged too much about the people she ran with and that you could understand. The world was dangerous and full of opportunities and you couldn’t judge her for the choices she had made to keep her and those she cared about safe. You had never really left the town you were raised in and your family was your ‘gang’, but their secrets would never haunt others that you choose to surround yourself with. You knew she had a man, maybe not a husband but someone she loved. And a son that she loved more than anything in the world. Although she’s never told you outright about him, you’ve seen her buy (or steal) little trinkets and toys that no grown man would want. That’s when Abigail taught you the same tricks. How to divert the attention of shop owners so your hands could dart into your pockets with stolen food, or how to nab items to pawn to build up your own funds when you bump into folks and cause a scene. You had been eyeing the mountains outside of town a lot more lately, and thinking how great of an escape you could make. 

“Where would I even pawn these? Do I walk in with everything at once?” you asked her. She contemplated for a moment. “You don’t want to walk in with arm loads of stolen things, but a few here and there should be okay...maybe clerks will let you trade them for goods! Like for food or clothes and such. There’s a good pawn shop in Rhodes, but that’s a long ways from here in Blackwater.”

Your hometown, or at least the place you had been raised in, was hot, dry, and desert like most of the year. The people were kind and you liked being situated by the river. On particularly hot nights you would sneak out and sit by the slow and lazy moving water, imagining it was carrying you someplace new and far away, where no one would know you and you could start over. But you knew that idea was just that and there was no escaping. Small fantasies were all you had. Some nights you yearned for your life that began in Boston, but Blackwater was the only home you had ever known.

Abigail brought you back to the present with her hand on your arm. “Y/N, I might have to leave soon. I don’t want to but there are things I can’t change that are set in motion by the people I’m with. You’re...well I guess my friend and I wanted to let you know.” You laughed at her hesitation to call you a friend. Knowing her it isn’t an insult. If anything, she means it as a way to say she doesn’t get close to many people and has somehow chosen you. 

“Abigail I appreciate you telling me, but I’ll see you again! I am not worried.” Sometimes your blind optimism got the better of you. Damn those novels that you got lost in. Few things brought you pleasure like the chapters of a book. 

The two of you clasped hands and parted for the day as the sun set behind you. Slowly but surely you were building a collection of items that had been lifted off the residents of Blackwater and were going towards your future pawn trips. As much as you loved the town and its dusty, dirty humbleness there was a darkness that lived there. 

You neared your house and felt your heart drop to your stomach as the parlor light flickered on meaning your mother was not home, but your father was. Dad had a mean drinking problem, and as the man in charge of  some government organization had power which mixed terribly with his vanity. He wanted everyone to know that he and he alone was in charge. 

Climbing up the steps quietly you hoped to sneak by. That damn fourth step gave you away, and you silently swore as your father barked for you to come back down. 

“Y/N! Get down here. How dare you walk by and not say hello to your father?” You mumble an apology and kissed him on the cheek, the smugness in him as strong as the whiskey on his breath. As you turned to head to the kitchen for dinner he grabbed your elbow hard enough to make you wince. “Were you in town today,” he asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. He must have seen you, or heard about Abigail somehow. “Y-yes father, I spent the day in town. At the market, there was a wagon from a nearby farm…” you drifted off and tried to walk to the other room. Your father stood abruptly, but was distracted by your mother opening the kitchen door. She was a force of pure good and the only thing that could tame your father’s wild ways. Her face beamed and invited you both for dinner. 

“How was town today, Y/N? The apples look delicious.” You mother winked at you and motioned to the three red apples sitting on the counter waiting to be baked into a pie for dessert. While in town you didn’t even notice her so she must have moved quietly. The roast chicken and potatoes were delicious and you couldn't eat fast enough. After dinner, your father went out to the back porch to smoke while your mother sat and played cards with you. 

“Mother, why don’t we just leave?” you whispered. This was a conversation you had had many times in the past. “If we packed and left at midnight he couldn’t track us. We could go to the mountains, move west or even north again! A new city with no one following us and we could make a new life. Work in an art gallery or a farm or...just some place nice and safe. Where no one could hurt us.” The darting of your eyes was not missed by your mother who had never known about your father and how his rage manifested late at night. He always did have a knack for hitting you in places that no one else would ever see.  

Her hand was soft as it wrapped around your own. You knew this fantasy would never happen but you always hoped someday she would finally agree. 

“My dear, we musnt run away from those things that we fear. Fear only increases when we turn our backs to escape rather than face it head on.” 

********************************************************

The next day in town you met up with Abigail again. You knew the time was coming for her to leave from the way she clung to you a little tighter and laughed more forced and often. It made you sad to think that this bright light in your life lately would just be gone due to...whatever it was that would drag her away. Loyalty and family all meant something to you of course. But it was still upsetting to think that this exciting time would soon be over. 

“The last thing I’ll teach you as a thief is this. In order to pull off a good heist, you have to believe. With everything you have. A poor orphan left to die on the side of the road? Believe. Someone who just got robbed and needs a ride to town? Believe. Someone who isn’t being abused by a man somewhere in town? Believe.”

She stared you down hard during this last line. You flinched and moved to cover the bruise that had been exposed when you rolled your sleeves up from the heat. A soft expression met you when you looked up to her blue eyes. 

“I...It’s nothing I promise.”

“And that, hon, is exactly what I was talking about. You have to believe. Make it out of this town, safe. Please. If not for me, maybe just for you.” You watery eyes meet hers and you realized that it’s obvious to everyone but you that leaving may just be your last hope to being happy. The only issue you have is leaving your mother behind with the monster that hides behind the eyes of your father. His rage wasn’t always there. Mother said as a child you lived happily in Boston just the three of you. It was supposed to be four, and that’s where the trouble began. When your brother was lost a few days after his birth your father couldn't stand it. The whiskey was his crutch, and it soon became more of a constant burden. Every day it seemed he stumbled in from work already drowning in the vile stuff. Even the thought of its scent brought you gagging now. Your mother says that’s the reason you had to leave the northern city and move to the nowhere town of Blackwater and start all over again. That drink and the havoc it caused. 

While you had the time the two of you decided to celebrate. Sitting in the saloon you clinked your drinks and cheersed to seeing each other soon someday. Abigail loved hometown whiskey and your poison of choice was gin. Many drinks later and the two of you stumbled out to the main road, needing fresh air after leading the whole bar in a great rendition of a popular song. You swayed in the heat that met you outside of the doors. A huge commotion down by the water caused half the town out to come bursting out to the roads behind you. Galloping horses, screaming, and gunshots were all you could make out. Damn those drinks and whatever was in them! You couldn't see more than four feet in front of you, and everything beyond that was a big old blur. 

“Y/N! We need to move. Now!” Abigail somehow sobered up and was in charge of the whole situation. “Get behind that building and pretend you don’t know me-” but her words were cut short by a man grabbing her arm and yanking her down the road. 

“Abigail!! Hey! Let her go!” You chased, well, more like stumbled after, the pair and beat his arm with your fists. He released Abigail and grabbed your hands, shoving them down by your sides and forcing you to stare into his eyes. 

“Now what in the hell are you doing?” You stare dumbstruck into his face thinking that you might have landed yourself right into one of your novels. Beautiful blue eyes searched your drunken face and you couldn’t even speak. His eyebrows pulled together and crows feet showed around the edges of his eyes, years of the open sun and road changing the landscape of his face. Stringing coherent thoughts together was a struggle when Abigail shoved the man. “Arthur! Let her go she’s my...she’s my friend.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, “Abigail I have to get you back to John-”

Three men raced around the street corner on horseback and shouted in your direction. “Those three! Stop them! They’re linked with them gangs from the riverboat!” 

You swung around to face Arthur and Abigail. “What have you done. Your gang! What did you do!” 

Arthur swore and grabbed you by your waist. “Abigail, get on that grey horse there. The bay is mine.” She nodded and took off down the road. You cursed and swung as hard as you could but it was no use, this man had you captive as he put you on the horse and followed Abigail. The lawmen were not too far behind and you heard the bullets they fired whisk by you and hit the buildings down the street. From the back of a horse you watched the faces of people you knew zip by faster and faster, and with them the memory of who you were confined to be quickly slipped away. What a strange turn of events in the past few months. Abigail had taught you how to pickpocket and thief your way hopefully to a new life, but instead of taking that route here one was riding you off on a horse. It scared you, but you couldn't look back. 

A sharp and terrible pain grabbed you suddenly as a bullet met your left side below your ribs. Screaming, you almost fell off the horse but managed to clutch onto Arthur’s shirt with weak fingers. He turned around at the noise and seemed upset as his face filled with worry when looking at the blood spilling onto your shirt. The pain proved too much and the last thing you remember was landing on a hill of grass with dust swirling all around as the sound of pounding hooves raging your ears from all directions.

[kamimuse]

Too many things to ponder

The lighting of his study was dimly lit as usual, the wick of candles burning down to their base before sputtering out into a thin stream of smoke. Candles were easily replaced of course, a new stick usually placed right over where the old one had been. It had been like this for a few days now. The trove of tomes Hisao and Neugdae brought back from Thavnair were half rifled through. Hisao didn’t have time to actually read through them, but he had been skimming through and transcribed the Thavnarian script to the more common written word into a new grimoire he was crafting for himself. He’d only been transcribing the spells he thought would be beneficial and necessary. It was a good distraction, even if he wasn’t sure half of what he was doing was useful currently, but it beat the strange silence and mix of emotions he’d been feeling over the past week.

He had spent his time pouring over texts and journals about dimensional travel, alternate dimensions and any research involving planar travel. Nothing he found was useful, though his talk with Vindi had been insightful. It had given him ideas to play with and things to research, but these topics were the kind that got scholars and researchers laughed out of their field. There wasn’t enough printed and readily available information out there. Perhaps he just needed to stop formulating plans. Maybe he needed to do something already.

Between his private conversations, the attack in the hall, dealing with the aftermath of that said attack, and then Araijah showing up on his doorstep frightened out of his mind; The old man was starting to feel overwhelmed. His body was physically worn down due to his mental state. He was grateful that Araijah and Neugdae were there for him, as the pair of spirited youth had give him a much needed reprieve from all the stress, by fussing over the Hingan with their doting concerns for his well being. He couldn’t keep running on the same track. Things needed to change soon.

He was temporarily ripped from his thoughts and his transcribing task at hand when he felt a low thrum of energy from beneath his feet. He knew where that was coming from. Slowly he turned to look toward the bookshelf behind him near the stained glass window, his senses starting to slip almost as if someone had tied a rope around him and was starting to pull. That overwhelming sensation pulled right down that secret passage and into the lower basement chamber. This had been happening more and more lately, despite the wards he had in place- which he checked on religiously. Among the many other’s he had to deal with, it had been a distraction he didn’t dare bring up.

Knock, Knock.

The Raen jumped in his seat when the knock came, startling him out of his wits and pulling him back to reality. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily when the door slid open. Whether he was prepared to accept visitors or not, in stepped the slender female Raen who had been staying with him. The purple haired woman leaned in the sliding doorway as she watched her brother for a moment, her tail swaying from side to side. Hisao had already turned back to his work at hand, pushing all other thoughts aside while she stood there in silence. It was an odd tension between them. Yui was one of the few who still talked to him within their immediate family, but it didn’t mean their relationship wasn’t strained. Somehow, he had a feeling he knew what she wanted to discuss, and it was a conversation he still wasn’t entirely ready for.

“Yes?” He asked finally, finding her silence more irritating than anything else. It made him nervous.

“I have been here for over a week now. I need to get back to Kugane, the holiday is coming up and it’s my busiest season. I have work to do. Have you made a decision on what you want to do?” She was forward, and straight to the point.

“I will not be requiring your services yet. I’m still not certain on what to do.” He said quietly.  He set the quill pen down onto a small rectangular pen holder while watching the red ink dribble from the metal tip across the porcelain surface. Poetic that he would be using red ink in transcribing Thavnarian blood magic.

Clearly the small woman didn’t like his answer and she frowned quite hard at the back of the old man’s head. Striding over to lean against his desk as she peered down at him, folding her arms over her chest- yes her displeasure with her older brother was quite well known with her body language alone.

“You’ve been miserable. You’ve had more mood swings since I’ve been here in a week than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. You need to make a choice.” She scolded.

“I’m looking for alternative solutions.” Hisao explained.

Yui rolled her eyes. She was frustrated, clearly. While her stay in the Shroud had been an entertaining one, she was getting restless. She couldn’t wait on Hisao to hem and haw over this forever. So she walked around his chair to the other side of his desk and opened a drawer. Hisao immediately felt violated as the young woman began rifling through his things and he simply growled.

“What are you doing?”

She produced a handful of loose blank parchment and then promptly grabbed his quill from his desk, spinning and marching off into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder.

“I’m just going to write you the rituals. I can’t sit here and wait for you to make a decision.” She sighed, sitting down at the table as she began scribbling out ritualistic instructions she knew off the top of her head. She ought to know them, she performed them quite often for her clientele back in the east. “I do know other rituals, but they require some really heavy-handed spell components. Ones you may not want to even bother with. Regardless- I’ll write them down anyways so you can pick and choose what is convenient for you.“

Brows knit together as the older Raen stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen, staring after her with quiet fury. There were other things he could have done? Why didn’t she tell him from the beginning? A quiet fury began to build in the older man as he took deep breaths, trying not to explode on the woman as he strode over to the table where she sat, watching her transcribe on stolen parchments.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” He asked firmly.

“Because it’s a lot of work!” she gestured with a huff.

“I didn’t ask for the simplest and easiest solution. I’m looking for the best solution, regardless of the amount of ritual work it takes. How dare you-“

“They all come with sacrifices, Hisao.”

The older Hingan eventually fell silent and sighed heavily. He couldn’t argue with Yui, and she was right- she needed to go home. He only wished she could stay longer- perhaps for another week. If she could write him the rituals, then he could easily perform them on his own or with assistance. He really didn’t need her there in the end, he just needed the spells.

“When are you heading back?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he moved to slump in a chair across from her at the table. “I was thinking of leaving tonight, head to Thanalan and do some shopping before hopping an airship to Limsa Lominsa. Probably stay there for a day or so then head out in two days.” She cast a glance to her brother thoughtfully.

Hisao reflected on her words for a moment before turning and heading back into the study silently, sinking down into the chair at his desk. Leaning heavily to one side, chin in the palm of his hand, the Raen stared off to the flickering burning candles just to the left of him. Fire was hypnotizing at times, but it allowed him to think while he stared into the brilliance of that light. Too many things to think about. Too many thoughts to process, too many emotions of despair not his own. Even when his own were mixed into the lot, it was like throwing gasoline onto the fire. Then there were the random influxes of pleasure, sadness, rage, and self-doubt. Yui was right. He couldn’t sit on this any longer. He was miserable.

Casting his gold eyes away, he peered at a new fresh leather-bound journal he’d purchased the other day. His conversation with Vindi had given him much to think about. The pages still blank and unused, he had yet to start compiling a list of memories into written form.

Depending on the other rituals Yui presented him with, perhaps he wouldn’t need to.

[delakoks]

It was a normal day at the auto shop – cars, customers, dirt, noise and a lot of chatter. And then, an hour or two before closing, – the stranger appeared, fully dressed in black from sunglasses to, apparently, damn expensive leather shoes. He came on a shiny black motorcycle, and there were some barely noticeable notes of northern accent in his confident and very likeable voice.

Ellis had never dealt with motorcycles, so Keith got to work, and the kiddo quietly followed the stranger out on the street. Bikers rarely came to the workshop. Especially from the northern cities. Especially these… attractive.

The man took a flat pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He opened it with his thumb and gently squeezed one between thin lips and pulled it out. In one swift moment he returned the pack to its place and reached for the lighter, but was stopped by a loud ringtone of his own cellphone.

Taking a deep breathe, the stranger pulled the phone out of his jeans pocket and replied with a sharp ‘What?’. Then he went silent. He stood there, listening and frowning more and more, heavy wrinkles showed on the bridge of his nose. And then he snapped. His voice was sharp and dark, mixed with irritation and anger. He didn’t even have to shout to sound intimidating. Ellis heard some quick and hot words among the cold english ones and he could not even think normally, confused by such a mixture.

Finally, the man venomously hissed ‘Ciao, bastarda!’ and turned off the phone. He spat on the ground in disappointment and said so quietly: ‘What a smart move, Nicolas, – marry a witch…’

He shuddered in surprise when he heard a voice behind him. ‘Bad day?’ – Ellis asked awkwardly and even timidly, holding out a lighter.  

‘Bad year… or maybe whole life’ – the stranger replied groomily, leaning to the fire. He took a deep breath, lightning a cigarette, gently smiling as thick hot smoke filled his lungs. Then, to Ellis’s surprise, the man lifted his sunglasses, showing his grey-ish eyes (and getting Ellis stuck with them for a moment or two). ‘Name’s Nick. You?’

‘Ellis’ – the mechanic simply answered going for a handshake. Nick somehow grinned, shaking kiddo’s hot and pretty dirty from machine oil and only-god-knows-what-else hand.

And then they talked. They talked about everything and nothing at the same time, talked like some old friends. Maybe it was because Nick was so damn tired (not from the road or something, but simply from his everyday life), maybe because Ellis was so easy to talk to and to trust, maybe Nick just needed someone interested in him and his thoughts (and this southerner was listening so attentively)… Maybe it was because of everything mentioned (and maybe even a little more?), but Nicolas was so honest and sincere as he never was. Even with his once beloved wife.

‘…We’re getting a divorce. And that bastarda is trying to take everything from me’. Nick gloomily grinned to Ellis. ‘Listen, kiddo, don’t make this mistake. Never get married. Never’. 

The mechanic snorted, and Nicolas continued, suddenly brightening. ‘But I did the right thing once – I bought a bike. As soon as this bitch started complaining (and she did it all the time she wasn’t cheating on me with some guy or girl), I got on my bike and drove without even knowing where I was going… You ever ridden one of these?’

‘Oh-haw, no, never!’ Ellis answered throwing up his arms up in the air like surrendering. ‘Didn’t even have a bicycle. I prefer something more… steady’. He smiled widely as Nicolas exhaled a thick cigarette smoke trough his nostrils, grinning and almost letting out a chuckle.

…the motorcycle was repaired, the work was paid for, and Nick was slowly driving out of the garage, when he suddenly stopped next to Ellis, who was outside closing windows with metal blinds. The kiddo politely smiled to the man and was going to give a farewell nod, but…

‘Get on the bike’ Nick simply commanded, nodding to the back of the bike. Ellis froze, blue eyes widened in surprise and in the lack of understanding… ‘Come on, princess, – Nick said with an almost sinister grin. – I promise to get you back home to mommy by midnight…’

Barely holding back laughter, looking at reddened and flustered Ellis, Nick gently repeated: ‘Get on the bike’.

And Ellis obeyed. Threw a quick ‘Close the shop, Keith!’, jumped on the bike and carefully put his hands on Nick’s shoulders to hold on. ‘Hug me, it’s safer’ Nicolas adviced with some humour in his voice. Ellis shifted his hands to the man’s waist, thanking God that Nick couldn’t see his cheeks becoming even redder. Nick only snorted to his thoughts:

Not a bad day anymore.

___________________

you can support me by bying me a coffee. and by liking and reblogging too of course ^^

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompt, 7

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #7 - Enchanted

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

(Note: A completely different thing this time, because this is only Chapter 1 of a fic now! I liked the idea so much I decided to run far, far away with it. The next chapters will get to Ao3 sometime this month, I hope.)

Crowley stared at the bag hidden inside a cupboard of Aziraphale's kitchen that he knew the angel never opened. (Why he had it then, he wasn't quite sure, but it had been a good place to hide everything from surprise baked goods to secretly stolen wine. Maybe it was his sheer stubborn belief that Aziraphale would never find it there that made sure he actually didn't.)

What was hidden inside the bag itself was a moral dilemma. Crowley was not a big fan of those. He usually left them for the humans to hem and haw over. Demon's didn't have morals, so there was nothing to have a dilemma about.

Except.

Except when it came to certain angels and certain relationships-that-weren't-really-relationships but might have a chance to become actual relationships if either of them had ever dared to talk about possible relationships.

As it stood, this was a moral dilemma for Crowley himself to work out.

And all because of that dam-bles- that witch.

                                                        -*-

They'd spent an almost agreeable afternoon tea with her and her boyfriend who'd only said something incredibly rude once, or maybe twice, without realising until Anathema had kicked him under the table hard enough. (That was always good for a laugh, the humans thinking they'd somehow insulted the two of them. As if either of them cared. Well, Aziraphale maybe, all puffing up and fiddling with his buttons. Crowley was, of course, too cool to care.)

They'd had tea and biscuits and some very sweet, very sticky little cakes Anathema had made after her great-grandmother's recipe and Aziraphale had practically swooned over. They'd made chit-chat, or at least Aziraphale and Newt had, while Anathema and he had dived down their on-going discussion about conspiracy theories. (This would've made round 15 of this particular debate, and neither would admit they liked it. They absolutely did. Aziraphale had caught Crowley re-searching the newest arguments for and against certain conspiracies prior to the last two times they'd met up.)

And then, for reasons beyond Crowley's understanding, Anathema had asked him to help with clearing the table. Usually it was Aziraphale almost falling over his own feet trying to get up and help, only to be put back into his seat with a stern smile of the witch and her assurance that she and Newt would manage just fine. (They never did, though, as Newt would end up dropping at least one of the cups or plates. He was lucky their pottery was already a random mix of donation store and flea-market finds.)

He'd gotten up, begrudgingly (but surprisingly fast, Aziraphale noted – it usually took far longer to convince Crowley to do some kind of help, unless you were a particular angel in trouble of course), and trotted into the kitchen with a full tray, Anathema and the plate of biscuits (minus two, which Newt and Aziraphale had quickly nabbed) behind him.

“Thank you.” She smiled in that mysterious, annoying way she had while putting the dishes into the sink.

“Don't thank me.” Crowley shuddered. “Tell me what you want instead.”

“What I want?” “You clearly had a reason for getting me alone. What do you want?”

Anathema sighed. “Do you always assume the worst?”

“Demon. Job description.” Crowley waved the now empty tray around, miraculously not hitting any of the shelves in the tiny kitchen.

“Yes. Alright. Makes sense.” Another sigh. “I only wanted you away from Aziraphale because I have something for you, and I know he'll be so delighted he'll rip it out of your hands before you even get to look at it. And that kind of defeats the point.”

Crowley watched her rummage through a cupboard, followed by a few whispered swears (there was a reason she was one of the few humans he might someday admit he enjoyed the company of), until she pulled out a little paper bag and held it up. They exchanged a pointed look between each other.

“Oh god, stop acting as if it's going to bite your hand off. It's a gift. Just take it.”

“Why would you get me a gift?” He took the bag, though, peering inside for just a second. It contained more small bags. Rather suspicious.

“It's nothing special, don't worry, I didn't think of you or showed you any kind of nicety with this, I know how much you pretend to hate that.” (Anathema's mocking smile was another point for the list of 'things I might actually like about this human'.) “I've started experimenting with tea-blends for spells, and I figured you had a better use for this set than I do.”

“Tea for spells? What am I supposed to do with that? I'm a demon, not a witch. I don't do spells.” He sniffed into the bag for a second, hit with a wave of all sorts of spices, herbs and tea. He counted six little bags, exactly enough for a pot of tea each.

“You drink them, you doofus.” (Daring enough to call him that without flinching at his evil glare that followed? Another point for the list.) “Or rather, you have someone drink them.” A pointed eye-roll into the direction of the living room, where Aziraphale was still chatting away as Newt only nodded and 'mhm'ed from time to time.

Another moment of shared looks, another sigh. “Crowley, for all I care, throw them in the bin as soon as you get home. Or not. Maybe just give them a try, and see if you like the results, is all I'm saying.”

                                                      -*-

And that was that. And now he was standing in Aziraphale's kitchen, having offered to make the tea this time, for reason beyond his understanding. Or maybe not completely beyond, but for a reason he did not want to actually admit. Thus, the moral dilemma had been born.

He could make some normal tea. He knew where the bags of Earl Grey were, or the box of loose leaf Darjeeling. He could make some tea, bring it back to Aziraphale, have him drink it while reading, watch him enjoy it from the couch, end of story. Evening spent as usual. No problem at all. No enchanting or magickying or bewitching or whatever you'd call it. No influencing the innocent angel. No pushing on the door to that whole 'relationship' business they'd so neatly packed away without ever mentioning it.

The little bags of tea in the big bag were also very neatly marked. Anathema's handwriting was squiggly and slightly off, and actually made it easier for Crowley to read, (a discover which he pretended to hate for a little while, before being busy hating the descriptions on the tea). He'd read the notes over and over and over again by now, and was glad for a short second that Aziraphale was once again too engrossed in reading to notice how long he'd been gone.

'Receiving Gifts', one bag said. 'Words of Affirmation', the other. 'Quality Time' and 'Acts of Service' had caught his eye at first, but were quickly interrupted by 'Physical Touch'.

At the bottom, slightly smaller and neater tucked away, lay the worst offender.

'Eternal Love'.

This is ridiculous. He stood up to put the kettle on. As if drinking some tea would have any effect like this. He took out the the angel-wing mug. As if a human was able to create something that would have any influence over an ethereal being. He stared at the paper bag now sitting on the counter. As if he was going to try to enchant the angel with something as ridiculous as a cup of tea. He dropped 'Receiving Gifts' into the cup.

Steeped and strained, with one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk, the tea found itself softly placed next to the angel, currently deep into a giant tome of something or other he'd found just last week and couldn't tear his eyes from ever since.

He tore them off of it now, though, to look bewildered at the cup, then, somewhat softer, up at the demon who'd placed it. He'd apparently all but forgotten that Crowley had said something about making a cuppa only – oh, fifteen minutes or so ago.

“Figured you might need a drink after breathing in all that bookdust.”

“Oh, dear boy.” Aziraphale curled his fingers around the cup, breathed in the steam coming from it. “That's very thoughtful of you.”

Crowley made a rough noise while staring at- the cup? The angel? Hard to tell. His thoughts were all over the place, yet he was definitely not thoughtful. Especially not this time. Selfish, more like.

“Don't go down that route, angel.”

“Sorry. But thank you, still. What tea is this?” Another sniff of the aroma, decidedly not Earl Grey. Something deep, something herby. Utterly lovely.

“Beats me. Something I found in your cupboards. Pour it out if you don't like it.”

Aziraphale gave him an almost scolding look (as if he'd ever pour tea down the drain instead of enjoying it thoroughly) before taking a sip.

“Oh, it's lovely!”

Crowley swallowed down the rising feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Nothing seemed to have happened. Why should something happen anyway? They'd returned to their places, Aziraphale over his book, Crowley on the sofa, trying his very best to hang off of it as nonchalantly as usual, and somewhat failing. Far too focused on watching the angel take sip after sip, until the cup was empty yet again. Waiting. Watching.

For what? Nothing was going to happen. It was tea. The witch had played a prank on him, or anyway her work was far too simple to have any effect on a non-human, and it's not like he'd actually expected anything to-

Aziraphale got up. Crowley's mind stilled.

“That reminds me!” (What reminded him of what, exactly? Aziraphale's train of thought was impossible to follow, as always.) “I have something for you.”

“You what?” Crowley only managed to stutter, but Aziraphale had already disappeared behind a bookshelf, returning with a small plastic box.

“Here, I found this at the same Antiques' store I found this lovely tome.” Crowley stared – at Aziraphale this time, definitely. He was still holding the box in his direction. “I remember, you said the last one had turned in your car again. I hope I got the right one?”

He wasn't quite sure what exactly he was doing as he took it from his hands. The thing. The box. He should look at the box. Not at Aziraphale. The box. Look at it, you doofus.

It was a cassette tape of the Velvet Underground. (Crowley wasn't sure if this record had actually ever come out as a cassette tape, but where there was an angelic will, there was apparently a way.)

“Well?” Aziraphale interrupted the myriad of thoughts racing through Crowley's mind. “Is it the right one?”

“It is.” His voice was surprisingly hoarse, as if he had been screaming. (He had, inwardly. Hopefully only inwardly.) “It absolutely is.”

Aziraphale gave him a smile, one of those smiles, the ones that made him feel all melty and soft and nice like he shouldn't feel. Especially not now. Especially not the way he had caused it.

“The right kind of Bebop, yes?” He joked, expectantly, and Crowley stifled a laugh, as he was expected to do. He didn't have much of a mind to play their usual game right now. Luckily, Aziraphale didn't seem to expect much more, as he went back to his desk and tome. Crowley went back to staring at the tape.

'Receiving Gifts', he thought. And then his mind raced to the other 5 bags hiding in the cupboard.

It was going to be a morally tough week. He was not a fan of those.