#something about not being able to see him and like part of my paranoid lizard brain not knowing that it was G and i know him and im safe

[glitterdisposition]

how to recover after having a complete crying breakdown in front of ur bf TWICE in one night

[randomnameless]

This is part 2! Too many topics in a single ask. More details on Dragon in the tower au coming soon if you want.

I never really talked about his personality so here we go! Pan was generally calm and stoic pre-zanado and has become pretty much unflappable since then because really heightened emotions can cause him to partially transform, a borderline painful experience. Tho he can be very funny and expressive when he wants to be, usually around his fam. He also tries to lie about his past as little as possible, usually by giving vague, general answers or even outright ignoring/deflection the question. Sometimes he will take the funny route if other people are present, Hanneman has been a victim of this.

He is very observant and has great judgement, it also translates into having decent foresight. But self-esteem issues combined with survivor's guilt + other stuff makes him feel like he has to do everything by himself. He thrives in an environment where there are people who he can support and who will support him in turn but ends up depriving himself of it. Which is why he's at his best when given responsibility of many people, like during the War of Eagle and Lion or the war in canon era.

This also makes him seem like a massive hypocrite in his Dimitri interactions lol. He's all like "You need to let others help and support you, it is our bonds that give us true strength" while also not telling his fam anything.

He was anti-empire from the beginning. He saw that the nabateans had little value beyond their powers to the nobility, afraid that they would end up becoming living tools for the empire. The rest dismissed him as being paranoid, he was in a pretty bad mental state after all.

Kyphon, while leading a small company of men, comes across a stranger who warns him about Imperial soldiers headed their way and offers to act as a lookout. Not wanting to risk their cover, he sends one of his trusted men with the stranger. Everything went smoothly and they were able to escape notice. Kyphon thanks the stranger and promises to lend aid were they to meet again in the future.

Then he and Loog meet this stranger Again, who gets them out of a bind Again. Loog is very grateful and says they're in his debt, the stranger just shrugs it off and leaves. Then they meet a third time and Kyphon asks if he has been following them. The stranger reluctantly admits that he has 'been curious about this movement and wished to see where it would lead' and finally introduces himself as [REDACTED], a mage and a scholar. Loog says some pretty words and convinces him to join.

Right after he joins some Srengese guy in the army comments that the new guy reminded him of Pan, a minor deity in his land, seen as a shepherd who protects them from the wilds, with the way he led them away from the Adrestians. Everyone thought this was the coolest thing ever and started calling him Pan.

Pan just goes with the flow, if they think this nickname is cooler who's he to stop them? Hence everyone forgot what he actually said his name was.

Weapon hcs: Durability is an important game mechanic but the implementation kinda sucked regarding relics so I made up my own version. Having to farm umbral steel to repair relics makes no sense worldbuilding-wise, like how did they repair these things when demonic beasts were next to non-existent? So in my version they can repair themselves like SotC. If you need them repaired faster, you can embue them certain kind of magic to accelerate the process. This is also how sacred weapons work, the magic infused in them repairs the weapon but you can still use mythril.

Would she try to recruit him, as Flamey? Maybe pull something like the enemies of my enemies are my allies (unless they're stinky lizards, they can be my allies for 2 seconds before I backstab them)?

I never thought about it like this!! Their dynamic would be absolutely hilarious! I can only imagine this ending in (not) betrayal at the holy tomb where he kills all the main players and prevents the war from happening. Edelgard, lying in the pool of her own blood, asks "Why?" His only reply is "Shouldn't have called us vile creatures that need to be exterminated." And she has a look of RealizationTM on her face.

Poor Pan though, but I wonder how he would have reacted to Jerry if Jerry told him his kid wasn't "normal", would he become protective of Billy who's, regardless of everything, part of his fam, or would he berate Rhea on not having told that human a thing about this Billy child?

Pan would get upset at Jerry regardless of Billy's lizardness. It's not Rhea's fault he's a terrible father! He has seen many humans with these traits and they don't deserve to be treated like this either!

Billy: I only found out I had a last name after coming to the monastery.

Pan: *looks at the camera like in The Office*

In a different hc/au Pan arrives at GMM while Citrus was around and he becomes her uncle figure. Rhea explains everything about Citrus & the previous homunculi, and also Jerry. So when he sees Jerry try to woo his 20 year old niece, every protective instinct in his body goes on full alert. He becomes their ultimate cockblocker and Jerry had never wanted to strangle anyone more. Citrus however has no clue what's going on and is just enjoying spending time with her uncle and that other guy who brings flowers sometimes :')

(did Pan and Loog hold hands or something?)

It's Schrödinger's hand holding! The benefit of hcs is that you can have contradictory ones at the same time! In the verses where they do hold hands, Pan reveals who he is and Loog'n'Kyphon are super cool with it and tell no one!

- Lizard Pan anon

Cool!

I never really talked about his personality so here we go! Pan was generally calm and stoic pre-zanado and has become pretty much unflappable since then because really heightened emotions can cause him to partially transform, a borderline painful experience. Tho he can be very funny and expressive when he wants to be, usually around his fam. He also tries to lie about his past as little as possible, usually by giving vague, general answers or even outright ignoring/deflection the question. Sometimes he will take the funny route if other people are present, Hanneman has been a victim of this.

Nabateans trying to be vague about their past is my bread and butter lol, at least it's better than Seteth coming up with "Flayn is my daughter, it's totally true (and a foolproof disguise, I mean we managed to trick humans by using hair dye so this should work)" or Flayn who routinely forgets she's not supposed to be a lizard!

It must be sad to have to restrain his emotions to avoid transformation though...

He is very observant and has great judgement, it also translates into having decent foresight. But self-esteem issues combined with survivor's guilt + other stuff makes him feel like he has to do everything by himself.

The Blaiddyd curse lol, are we sure they only hold hands? Or Pan acts like his sister does during the battle of Garreg Mach, where she holds back the Imperial Army with perfect knowledge she might not return...

He thrives in an environment where there are people who he can support and who will support him in turn but ends up depriving himself of it

They all need to be around people lol but yeah, it's awesome how we can agree that some nabateans need to be around people, to help them and also to be helped, but someone said "no pointy ears" so they have to hide or disappear in a certain route...

He was anti-empire from the beginning. He saw that the nabateans had little value beyond their powers to the nobility, afraid that they would end up becoming living tools for the empire. The rest dismissed him as being paranoid, he was in a pretty bad mental state after all

Aww

Too bad he would be proven right a few years down the drain (1k!) but again, it's all about the right or wrong people being in charge, even if from a logical point of view, what should prevent the Willy gang from dicing Rhea'n'the others to gain more power or to use them as tools, as the humans following Nemesis did?

Loog says some pretty words and convinces him to join.

This makes me think of the feast of decadence where the guy pretending to be willy on stage says "words of love" to the person pretending to be seiros on stage lol

But it's a cool idea! Cryptid/random person Pan helps those humans who are in a bind, and helps them later on, again and again, ultimately joining their effort to fight against asses who think they are subhumans, or should be treated as such.

Right after he joins some Srengese guy in the army comments that the new guy reminded him of Pan, a minor deity in his land, seen as a shepherd who protects them from the wilds, with the way he led them away from the Adrestians. Everyone thought this was the coolest thing ever and started calling him Pan. Pan just goes with the flow, if they think this nickname is cooler who's he to stop them? Hence everyone forgot what he actually said his name was.

He was renamed !

IIRC in Claude's paralogue it's mentionned some people in Sreng worship the weird beast that is actually Macuil? Maybe the "minor deity Pan" was also another Nabatean? Or another being entirely.

Weapon hcs: Durability is an important game mechanic but the implementation kinda sucked regarding relics so I made up my own version. Having to farm umbral steel to repair relics makes no sense worldbuilding-wise, like how did they repair these things when demonic beasts were next to non-existent? So in my version they can repair themselves like SotC. If you need them repaired faster, you can embue them certain kind of magic to accelerate the process. This is also how sacred weapons work, the magic infused in them repairs the weapon but you can still use mythril.

And it makes more sense than whatever we have in-game (unless we're supposed to understand Billy'n'co are hunting Nabateans or humans turned into demonic beasts to repair their relics...)

I know some people don't like the "magic" excuse, but it works way better.

I never thought about it like this!! Their dynamic would be absolutely hilarious! I can only imagine this ending in (not) betrayal at the holy tomb where he kills all the main players and prevents the war from happening. Edelgard, lying in the pool of her own blood, asks "Why?" His only reply is "Shouldn't have called us vile creatures that need to be exterminated." And she has a look of RealizationTM on her face.

Rhea watching the scene unfold with a nervous laugh "haha I don't know what they are talking about, and by the way, no, this child is completely delured, Willy would never have done that." while Pan gives the longest sigh ever, but at least, everyone, dead and alive, is safe!

Pan would get upset at Jerry regardless of Billy's lizardness. It's not Rhea's fault he's a terrible father! He has seen many humans with these traits and they don't deserve to be treated like this either! Billy: I only found out I had a last name after coming to the monastery. Pan: *looks at the camera like in The Office*

To Pan who has to learn how to restrain himself for fear of transforming, people calling Billy emotionless must hurt, they feel things, they just cannot outwardly show them!

In a different hc/au Pan arrives at GMM while Citrus was around and he becomes her uncle figure. Rhea explains everything about Citrus & the previous homunculi, and also Jerry. So when he sees Jerry try to woo his 20 year old niece, every protective instinct in his body goes on full alert. He becomes their ultimate cockblocker and Jerry had never wanted to strangle anyone more. Citrus however has no clue what's going on and is just enjoying spending time with her uncle and that other guy who brings flowers sometimes :')

Citrus tells Pan how Jerry is nice, he tells her stories and brings her flowers, he's kind for a human!

"and then what next, you'll tell me he can swallow noodles through his nose and find it awesome? Or borrow my stuff to give it to him?"

"of course not, he isn't completely stupid! Who would even do that? It's not awesome it's gross!"

Will Billy ever come to exist in this AU?

Then Pan will also have to deal with Aelfric also trying to woo her, and Rhea's useless because she calls Aelfric "her child" while Pan has to explain her that no for human, if they are both "her children" they can't court!

It's Schrödinger's hand holding! The benefit of hcs is that you can have contradictory ones at the same time! In the verses where they do hold hands, Pan reveals who he is and Loog'n'Kyphon are super cool with it and tell no one!

No Loog'n'Kyphon "sekrit history" then?

It would be hilarious for he and Rhea to have "edit wars", Rhea pushing the "Bestest Greatest Emperor to have existed Willy" while Pan pushes the "super brave and strong and courageous King Loog", and children of the monastery will judge, if they prefer to play "pretend I'm the super king of Lions" Pan wins, but if they prefer to play "I'm the Great Emperor who defeated the evil nemesis!" Rhea wins.

Cichol returns and calls them hopeless.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Autistic Hiccup x ADHD Anna Headcanons

SO I’ve been really into the whole Autistic x ADHD ship dynamic and Hiccanna...highkey fits??? Like y’all know I will die on my “Anna has ADHD” hill, but after reading this post by @hobie-brown I’m like wait, the autistic Hiccup headcanon is wonderful too??? And blends SO WELL with ADHD Anna??? And I absolutely HAD to explore it more so BOOM headcanon time! Another special thanks to @hobie-brown for writing the super lovely autistic Hiccup headcanon masterpost that inspired me to do this!

Disclaimer: I myself am not on the spectrum (part of the reason I’ve always felt a little weird about definitively HCing characters as autistic unless I see actual autistic people HC them that way too), so most of the stuff here is stuff I know secondhand from my autistic friends! I do have ADHD, so I can always promise that ADHD Anna will be 100% authentic XD

~Anna absolutely gets into Hiccup’s special interests to try and impress him. The most obvious one being, of course, dragons, but also dinosaurs (extinct dragons), lizards (tiny dragons), and Dungeons and Dragons (An RPG game that does, in fact, include dragons). Hiccup absolutely had that dragonology book as a kid and got obsessed with it beyond all reasonability. Hilariously, Anna’s wooing strategy of indulging his special interests works like a charm--mainly because a) he’s pretty flattered that someone takes THAT much of an interest in what he likes and b) half the time, ANNA finds that she genuinely gets into whatever said special interest is and finds them easy to hyperfixate on. It helps that the more she obsesses over it herself, the more she has to talk to Hiccup about XD

~Specifically, Anna definitely joins a DnD campaign at some point so that Hiccup will think she’s a “cool gamer girl”--and then gets unironically obsessed with it and starts writing 10-page backstories for all of her characters. She later tells Hiccup it started out as a ruse to win his heart via nerdiness, and he absolutely loses his shit laughing.

~One of their overlapping special interests/hyperfixations is high fantasy. Hiccup is, unsurprisingly, all about the mythical creatures while Anna is more into the magic and the zesty political drama, but you dun best believe they catch every CGI-ridden fantasy movie that ever comes out. They’ve both spent a literal fortune on fantasy movie tickets, even moreso on watching them in 3D or Imax. How embarrassing for both of them.

~Another less-obvious overlapping interest is history. Hiccup gets into it while looking into the cultural mythos of dragons (he’s pretty fascinated by the fact that so many cultures around the world thought up similar creatures independently), while Anna gets into it because she grew up cooped up bored and lonely in a big house, and entertained herself by looking into the history behind some of the family paintings. They don’t seem it at first, but they’re actually both huge medieval and ancient civilization history buffs.

~Hiccup is THE most touch-repulsed person you will ever meet. This is unfortunate, as he is also SUPER touch-starved and absolutely does not realize it (I mean, I’ve never gotten the vibe Stoic was the super huggy type, considering his and Hicc’s relationship in HTTYD 1). This means he has absolutely no fucking clue what to make of Anna when they first meet meet. Anna’s the sort of person to give physical affection pretty freely, especially if she likes you--usually in the form of hugs, arm pats or playful swats, putting her elbow on your shoulder, etc etc. Hiccup is kinda just like “this is way too much touching but like??? I kinda like having her this close to me??? What do???”

~Anna, meanwhile, notices that Hiccup kinda stiffens up whenever she touches him and seems to not be crazy about it and she’s just immediately like “yo what’s wrong???” And as SOON as he admits he’s not all that crazy about being touched randomly she’s like “OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY” and never touches him without asking again.

~As soon as she finds out touch a kind of A Whole Thing for him, Anna is like...AGGRESSIVELY respectful of Hiccup’s boundaries when it comes to physical affection. Almost annoyingly so. She gets in the habit of basically never initiating any kind of physical touch without asking first--even long after they’ve started dating, and he’s told her it’s okay to initiate touching as long as she’s not smothery about it. She still refuses out of principle.

~They come up with a kind of “consent language” so Anna can pretty quickly determine when it’s all right to touch Hiccup--because Anna still really likes being physically affectionate with him, and he does actually like receiving physical affection a lot of the time (because, again, touch-starved), he’s just choosy about who does it. They work out a system based off of small, light touches that Hiccup doesn’t mind where it’s basically 2 taps on his shoulder for “can I hug you around the neck,” 2 taps on his side for “can I hug you around the waist,” 2 taps on his arm for “can I grab/lightly slap/punch your arm,” and 1 tap on is shoulder for “can I put my arm/elbow on your shoulder.” If he’s cool with it he’ll either nod or just say “yeah go ahead.” It works a lot quicker than asking “can I do such-and-such specific touch” every single time, and allows Anna to keep some of her spontaneity. They develop this during their friendship and it ends up rolling over into their relationship, even after Hiccup has basically told her she doesn’t need to ask permission for a lot of these anymore. She adds a new one after they start dating--she taps him a couple times wherever she wants to kiss him to ask if it’s cool to give him a smooch! It usually is.

~INFODUMPING. Literally SO. MUCH. INFODUMPING. Hiccup absolutely WILL NOT SHUT UP when he gets to talking about one of his special interests. Anna just will not shut up in general, but when the topic changes to one of her hyperfixations, it’s even worse. If you try to have a conversation with these two while they’re infodumping, you WILL get talked over. Honestly, left to their own devices, they could probably infodump to each other for literal days on end.

~Despite how much they both like to infodump, they’re both pretty good about being patient and indulging the other when it’s their partner’s turn to infodump in the conversation XD They are, however, notorious about accidentally triggering a barely-related infodump in the other person. It’s not uncommon for one of them to finish a rant and then the other goes “OH THAT REMINDS ME” and sets off on a completely different, barely-related rant.

~Hiccup actually really appreciates how overexpressive--and occasionally overdramatic--Anna tends to be. He never has to try and figure out what she’s thinking because she just says everything in her brain, and her body language basically always matches how she’s feeling to a ridiculous extent, so he never has to give himself a headache trying to read her. The fact that she’s the opposite of subtle and has no filter whatsoever works great for him, because he doesn’t have to drive himself insane trying to understand her. He gets her better than he gets most people because she’s an open goddamn book. The boy’s never been the best with social cues at all, never mind the nuanced, obscure ones, so Anna’s general straightforwardness and utter inability to hide her true feelings at literally any time is a breath of fresh air. What you see is basically what you get, and Hiccup wouldn’t have it any other way.

~People think when Anna and Hiccup start dating it’s gonna be a disaster, mainly because he’s so blunt and she can be...”oversensitive” (i.e. has a REALLY bad case of RSD). Turns out they’re dead wrong--because Hiccup has RSD too! (I mean, come ON--look how BADLY he wants to get his village’s approval! And how hard he takes it when his dad or someone else is mad at him--even if he tries to hide it with snark) He’s actually one of the few people who can be blunt enough with Anna that she realizes when she’s being a dumbass but tactful enough not to hurt her feelings or set off her RSD--because god, has he been there. When Anna is being especially difficult and has worked herself into a real bad funk, Hiccup (and sometimes Elsa) is the only people who can talk to her and get through to her without getting blown up at.

~They stim in similar ways!!! They both tend to fidget or kinda bounce up in down in place as a way to comfort themselves and calm themselves down (I see them both having a lot of anxiety and generally being kind of paranoid, although Anna is MUCH better at hiding this via putting on a cheerful face). They both do the leg bounce!!! Also if they get SUPER excited they’ll do a little awkward happy dance!!! They both also tend to stim by rubbing things in small, repetitive motions--with Hiccup, it’s usually his sketching pens, his ear, his head, or the back of his neck, while with Anna, it’s usually her other hand, her arm, her clothes, or really anything with kind of a comforting, consistent texture (some favorites are rubber, felt, and velvet). After they start dating, they actually will stim with each other’s hands while holding hands--usually by squeezing the other person’s hand in kind of a repetitive pattern or doing the thumb-rub thing on the back of the other person’s hand. It’s not uncommon for them to each be doing something completely unrelated while holding hands and just stimming on each other’s hands the entire time. Anna especially really loves when she feels Hiccup stimming on her, because it’s her little indicator that he’s happy and feels at peace and content in her presence and she LOVES being able to do that for him!

~They both stim by playing with hair too! Anna likes to play with her own to stim--mainly by figeting with the end of her braids or tucking hair behind her ear. She DOES love to ruffle Hiccup’s hair too (and she LOVES how fluffy it is!), but it’s usually not a stim thing. After they start dating, Anna does occasionally stim by massaging Hiccup’s hair/scalp, but she doesn’t usually do it for very long. Hiccup really loves braiding Anna’s hair, or just playing with it when it’s down. it helps him relax and clear his mind to have something fairly repetitive and/or mindless to do.

~Even after gaining some confidence, Hiccup still has a fair bit of social anxiety, so he and Anna basically always go to parties and social events together and stick with each other the whole time to make it less intimidating for him. Hiccup generally prefers to let Anna do the talking when they chat with people, and sometimes if he’s REALLY nervous he’ll sometimes even let her kinda talk for him (not in a condescending “speaking over” kinda way, but more in like a “I can sense you’re not comfortable speaking here so I’ll help you out as best I can” kinda way). She always makes sure to leave space in the conversation for him to take over talking if he wants. She’s also incredibly prone to bragging about his accomplishments to basically everyone they know. Hiccup is both embarrassed and flattered by this.

~When Anna finds out about meltdowns (probably through Hiccup mentioning it kind of offhandedly--“Eh, sorry I went AWOL last night, I was having a bit of a meltdown. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine now.”) she lowkey gets super anxious and frustrated because she REALLY wants to help, but has no idea how. Cue literal HOURS of research on the internet and AGGRESSIVE memorizing of any and all tips that she reads that she thinks would help. Which, of course, means several MORE hours spent going over flashcards like she’s studying for a goddamn test, because Anna has never been known for her sharp, expansive memory.

~The first time Hiccup ever has a meltdown in front of her (maybe after a really bad phone fight with his dad or something? Just general sensory overload?), she takes him to a secluded room and IMMEDIATELY gets rid of anything that could be agitating sensory-wise. She dims the lights! She closes the blinds! She throws a nearby clock, an alarm, a timer, and several other objects with only the slightest potential of making an annoying noise out of a nearby window in a fit of passion! She goes on a frenzied quest to find Hiccup’s noise-cancelling headphones--and finishes it in record time! Even in a state of emotional turmoil, Hiccup realizes that Anna’s being just a little too methodical in how she goes about all this--these are the kind of things that wouldn’t ever occur naturally to her to do. So as soon as he calms down a bit and has screamed into a pillow for a while, he’s like “...did you go on the internet to look up how to help with meltdowns?” and Anna’s like “...yes?” And Hiccup is lowkey so touched he starts crying all over again...and then, naturally, makes a long string of snarky comments to try and distract from it XD

~For their anniversary Anna saves up a bunch and buys Hiccup a lizard and a terrarium!!! She gets him a crocodile skink because, I quote, “Well, they always look annoyed, they’re kinda shy, they don’t like to be touched, and they look like tiny dragons, so they reminded me of you!!!” Hiccup screams like a goddamn fangirl, he’s SO excited. As luck would have it, Hiccup’s crocodile skink is a lot less skittish and prone to hiding than they usually are, and he actually lets Hiccup pick him up and pet him without much issue. Which is honestly great, because repeatedly touching something smooth and even like lizard scales helps calm Hiccup down when he’s agitated and helps with some of his sensory issues.

~Probably goes without saying, but Hiccup basically NEVER genuinely gives Anna a hard time about her memory problems or how she’s not always the quickest on the uptake, and if anyone tries to call her annoying, dumb, or immature he will absolutely roast them into oblivion. He does sometimes like...lightly tease her about jumping into things without thinking or never shutting up, but he never pushes it if he can tell she’s genuinely bothered by it (and, again, Anna is very easy to read, so it’s not hard to tell XD)

~I’ve seen other people in the fandom HC either Hiccup, Anna, or both of them as BOTH autistic and ADHD, and honestly...fuck yes!!! I’m down for this too! I love the idea of these two disaster ND kids just vibing with each other on so many damn levels that it’s like...incomprehensible to the average human XD Like man, they fuckin GET each other!!! I’m pretty happy with most combinations of ADHD + Autistic headcanons for Anna and Hiccup, so long as they end up vibing!!!

~THEY JUST. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. THEY LITERALLY WOULD DIE FOR EACH OTHER. I AM SURE OF IT. I’M CRYING. 

[izayoichan]

Rylan smiles, trying to see if he can fit one more thing on his lap, but there is a stomach in the way of that, Hayle just chuckling, checking quickly to see if River is done with his part, and when he sees him being done, he nods. 

“So.. we’ll be needing some help over here River, we may have gone overboard with these books.”

“Oh wow you two have gotten a lot there!”

He wraps his arms around Rylan, kissing his cheek gently, before taking some off the books so they can pay for it all. They both know that Hayle’s addiction to taking pictures has not gotten any less over time when his husband was away. 

“I guess we’ll fill them all eventually.”

River chuckles, as they pay and they get ready for the next step. River heads towards the cafeteria with the picture books, while Hayle takes Rylan to the post office to pick up their package, before they head to a small store to get wrapping paper, and a present for Chris that Hayle hopes to send him with the pictures. When both things are done, they head towards the cafe as well. 

Vy takes Fannar to a store nearby where he knew there were some things Hayden wanted. It was mostly business related things, and electronics, things Vy wasn’t very knowledgeable about, but he was hoping to find something Hayden would like. A woman greeting her and Fannar, helping them find the things they want, a blue notebook, and as luck would have it, it has a offer that comes with a extra recorder that makes you able to use the tablet as a dicta phone which Vy is sure is a very good idea. As Fannar agrees with him, that becomes what they decide on. 

River smiles as he watched Rylan go with his dad and walked over to the Cafe where Hayden was waiting, quickly finding his table and walking over to sit nearby.

“Done Christmas shopping?” “Yeah, found a store with gems and other shiny things, and well, lets say a certain little star takes after their mother when it comes to shiny things.”

He chuckles, the bag with all they had been buying, and Chris's surprise bag sitting on a chair next to him. River putting their shopping next to it. 

“I'm guessing my twin is having a field day being out of the house?” “Oh yes he is. I am glad he is having a good day. It can't be easy to be so bed-bound.”

River sighs worried. Rylan's pregnancy hadn't been easy on them. Despite what Vy had asked him, he had been sharing his energy with Rylan but it felt like something was always wrong, as if it wasn't enough, for all he could feel was his child's energy and Rylan felt fainter by the day. Vy said everything was alright, yet he felt as if Vy was lying to him, or perhaps he was being paranoid?

“Hey... Hayden, is the lizard a good liar?” “Ehm, from what I noticed, not a very good one, why?” 

He looked at River. He knew he worried a lot about his brother, as did he, he noticed it too, but Vy always answered he was okay or as good as could be expected. 

“I worry about him too…” “Just... he doesn't feel right... Maybe it's just me being paranoid... “

He falls quiet once he sees Hayle and Rylan heading their way, Hayden nodding at him, he had noticed it as well, but Vy kept telling him for what it was, Rylan was as good as could be expected. 

“He doesn't.. but perhaps it's the magic of the little one, being so strong that we lose the feel of him? I can't see Vy lying about it.I'll try and ask again, try and dig a little deeper.”

The last words are mostly a whisper, then he turns and waves at his brother and dad, waving at them, noticing Rylan waving back. As the two enter, Rylan’s nose is filled with the smell of sweet cake and drinks.

(music)

Beginning - Previous - Next

[tw-anchor]

19. Whispers

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Reader)

Episode: 2x07; Restraint

Word Count: 5,487

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, blood, seizures 

Author’s Note: Olivia’s powers turn up a notch, Jackson’s got a restraining order--trust me I restrained myself--and Olivia gets her first detention. Let me know what you think. Reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profile Description!

"So, if Jackson doesn't know what he's doing then he probably doesn't know that someone is controlling him," Olivia said into her phone, finishing her explanation to Stiles and Scott, where had called her from the police station.

Apparently, Jackson had beat them to Stiles' dad and they were in a lot of trouble with the sheriff and Mr. Whittemore.

"Or he doesn't remember," Scott added with a sigh.

"What if it's the same kind of thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles suggested.

"A fugue state," Olivia supplied, remembering the bullshit diagnosis that the doctors gave her cousin.

"He'd have to forget everything, the murder," Scott started to list. "getting rid of the blood."

"Yeah but he had help with one thing, though," Stiles reminded them. "The video. And someone else helped him forget that."

"Whoever's controlling him," Olivia guessed.

"Did Jackson believe you guys when you tried to explain what was going on?"

"Nope," Stiles sighed. "He thinks he's still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing."

"He's being an idiot," Olivia huffed. "Should we try again?"

"If it helps us find out who's controlling him, then yeah," Scott confirmed.

"I doubt he's gonna wanna talk to me any time soon."

"We'll try then," Stiles assured Olivia. "He'll talk to us, right?"

"No, probably not," Olivia shook her head, though Scott and Stiles couldn't see her. "Okay, let me know what happens."

"We will. See ya."

Olivia ended the call and threw her phone on her bed. There was no doubt in her mind that Jackson wouldn't speak to Stiles and Scott. If she knew him like she thought she did, the boys were going to be in big trouble.

-

It turned out that Olivia was right. Stiles and Scott weren't going to be able to speak to Jackson. Not if the restraining order that his dad presented them would somehow disappear. It was ridiculous that Jackson and his father were doing this to them; they were just trying to help Jackson.

It wasn't their fault he was a murderous lizard with a bad memory.

"You will not go within fifty feet of Jackson Whittemore," Noah read the last paragraph of the restraining order that Mr. Whittemore filed. "You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."

"What about school?" Stiles asked innocently, glancing at Melissa and Mr. Whittemore as Noah dropped the clipboard on the table they were sitting at.

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty-foot distance," Noah answered sternly.

"Okay, but what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time and there's only two stalls available and they're only right next to each other?" Stiles gestured, acting out the situation with his fingers. Noah glowered at him. "I'll just hold it."

After Stiles and Scott had signed the restraining order, agreeing to keep away from Jackson, Noah practically dragged Stiles out of the room.

"Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" his dad said sternly as he pulled him to one side of the hallway, allowing Melissa and Scott to walk past them.

"Oh, come on, it was just a joke," Stiles groaned.

"It was a joke?"

"Yes, I didn't think it would be taken this seriously," Stiles spoke quickly, lying through his teeth. "Dad, humor is very subjective, okay? I mean, we're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."

"Uh-huh," Noah deadpanned; Stiles nodded. "Okay, well, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"

Stiles scoffed in offense. "We filled the tank!"

Noah angrily pressed his lips together and Stiles fell silent, seeing the vein throbbing at his temple. That was the clearest sign that his dad was about to lose his temper. Stiles knew all about it because it was his dad that he got his temper from.

"Get out of here," Noah said slowly and quietly.

"Yes, sir," Stiles said quickly. "Bye, love you."

He didn't wait for a response as he left his dad, walking down the hallway in the direction that Scott and Melissa went. When he found the McCalls, Scott was in the middle of a lecture from his mom, who was shaking she was so angry.

"You are grounded!" was the first actual thing he could interpret.

Scott winced at her. "What about work?"

"Fine," Melissa sighed. "other than work. And no TV."

"My TV's broken."

"Then no computer."

"I need the computer for school."

"Then no, uh—" she looked around and spotted Stiles behind her, clearly eavesdropping. "No Stiles."

"What?" Stiles objected. "No Stiles?"

"No Stiles!" Melissa exclaimed, turning back to Scott. "and no more car privileges. Give me your keys. Give them to me!"

Scott scrambled to pull his keychain out of his jeans, handing them over to Melissa. She picked up the car key and struggled to take the key off the ring, having trouble like any other person on the planet when it came to those monstrosities.

"Oh, for the love of God."

"Mom, you want me to—"

"No," Melissa pulled away as Scott reached for the keys, still struggling.

"Mom," Scott sighed. "come on, let me just—" he grabbed her hands, stilling them. "Mom."

Melissa sniffed and looked up at him. "What is going on with you?" she asked him quietly. "Is this about Allison?"

Stiles perked up at the question and wildly shook his head at Scott, drawing his attention.

"Do you really wanna know?" Scott asked her; Melissa nodded.

"Yeah," she confirmed and Stiles shook his head again. Scott hesitated and Melissa took that as a no. "Is this about your father?"

Stiles nodded jerkily, silently telling Scott to agree.

"It is, isn't it?" Melissa went on when Scott didn't answer. "Okay, you know what? We'll, um, we'll talk about this at home. I'm gonna go get the car."

Stiles walked up to Scott's side as Melissa left the station, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm the worst son ever," Scott sighed heavily.

Stiles pressed his lips together and looked back at the interrogation room they had all gathered in. He could see through the window that Mr. Whittemore was berating his dad, scolding him for Stiles' sarcastic comments.

"Well, I'm not exactly winning any prizes either," Stiles said sadly.

-

Olivia walked into the library, trying not to draw attention to herself. She was fully aware of the cameras that followed her every move; the Argents had taken over the school, which left her paranoid that they would come to kill her any second. For now, she just had to act like everything was okay and stay away from Allison.

Which wasn't going to be easy since she had to meet up with her, Stiles, and Scott to inform them about everything Lydia translated about the kanima.

Olivia turned down the classical fiction aisle where Scott had told her Allison would be hiding. She saw Allison's head peek out around the endcap and subtly nodded at her before stopping in the middle of the aisle to look through the bookshelf where Scott and Stiles were on the other side.

She pulled out the iPad she had brought to school. Everything that she and Lydia translated was on it. She handed it through the bookshelf to Scott, who started flipping through the notes.

"It's everything Lydia translated," she whispered, acting casual. "She was pretty confused."

"What did you tell her?" Scott wondered.

"That we were part of some ridiculous online gaming community that battles mythical creatures," she told him the lie she and Lydia made up so they wouldn't know that Lydia knew everything.

Scott snickered.

"I am a part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures," Stiles blinked at her, not understanding what was so funny about it.

"Of course you are," Olivia rolled her eyes fondly.

Stiles gave her an annoyed look.

"Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling him?" Allison whispered to them.

Olivia shook her head. "Not really but Stiles was right about the murderers."

"Yes!" Stiles hissed excitedly.

"It calls the kanima a weapon of vengeance," Olivia continued like he hadn't spoken. "There's a story in there about this South American priest who uses the kanima to execute murderers in his village—"

"All right, see?" Stiles perked up, thinking that maybe the kanima wasn't as bad as they thought. "So maybe it's not all that bad."

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to," Olivia finished.

"Okay, all bad," Stiles nodded in realization. "All very, very bad."

"The thing that stood out to me was that the kanima is actually supposed to be a werewolf," Olivia told them. "But it can't be—"

"Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it," Scott finished, reading the text on the tablet; Olivia nodded.

"Okay, if that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could have told you that myself," Stiles commented.

"What if it has something to do with his parents?" Allison spoke up. "His real parents."

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?" Scott wondered.

"I don't," Olivia shook her head. "He was pretty tight-lipped about it. He told Lydia, though."

"Maybe you can get her to tell you," Stiles suggested to her.

Olivia nodded. "I'll ask her."

"And if she doesn't know?" Scott asked, paranoid that Lydia wouldn't be able to give them any information.

"Well, he doesn't have a restraining order against me," Allison answered. "I'll talk to him myself."

"Okay, what do I do?" Scott looked down the aisle where Allison was hiding and then back at Olivia and Stiles.

"You have a make-up exam, remember?" Allison reminded him. "Promise me."

Scott hesitated. "If he does anything, you run the other way," he requested.

"I can take care of myself."

"Allison, if you get hurt while I'm busy with some stupid test, someone's going to need to take care of me," Scott scoffed. "If he does anything—"

"Like?"

"Anything weird or bizarre—" Scott shrugged. "Anything."

"Anything evil," Stiles interjected loudly.

Olivia rolled her eyes and reached through the bookshelf, tapping him on the forehead. He winced away from her, rubbing the spot as if she hurt him. She took the iPad from Scott and casually walked down the aisle toward Allison, handing her the tablet so the cameras wouldn't see.

"All right," she sighed. "We have work to do."

-

Despite the fact that Olivia practically begged her to spill the beans about Jackson's biological parents, Lydia was not budging. Quite honestly, Olivia was shocked that Lydia was refusing her. She had really thought that Lydia would tell her about what happened to them—she had even refused to take Stiles along with her and she actually wanted to spend some time with his spastic self.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," Lydia repeated herself as they walked down the hallway.

"Come on, Lydia," Olivia sighed. "You know why I need to know. This is really important."

"And I want to help but I swore to Jackson that I wouldn't tell anyone," Lydia insisted. "I'm sorry but I can't tell you, Liv."

"Okay, then give me a hint," Olivia begged. "Were they mugged? Double suicide? Homicide and suicide? Double homicide?"

"You need to stop spending so much time with Stiles," Lydia rolled her eyes. "I've got to get to class. Sorry, Liv."

"Lydia, wait!" Olivia called as Lydia walked off toward her history class. "Would you please just tell me? Lydia!"

But Lydia only ignored her, disappearing through the crowded hallway.

Olivia was abruptly grabbed by the arm and pulled to the side of the hallway that happened to be empty. She groaned when she saw Erica, who she hadn't spoken to in a couple of days. She hadn't even talked to Derek, though she did exchange a few text messages with Isaac, telling him that she needed some time until she came back to the pack.

"Hey, Erica," she greeted the blonde with a sigh.

"Liv," Erica smiled sweetly. "Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson's bio-parents?"

"No reason, really," Olivia shrugged, keeping her face clear of emotion. She was a great liar but Erica could hear her heartbeat so she would know anyway.

"Mmhm, sure," Erica hummed. "Now, how about you tell me the truth?"

"How about you get your hands off of her?" Stiles suggested, his voice hard. He had popped out of nowhere but Olivia was still glad to see him. He looked kind of hot when he was being all forceful.

Erica pursed her lips and let go of Olivia's arm. Stiles quickly grabbed Olivia's hand and started to pull her away from the werewolf, leading her down the hallway.

"If you're wondering about Jackson's real parents, they're about half a mile from here," Erica called after them, catching their attention. "In Beacon Hills Cemetery."

Olivia pressed her lips together and turned back to Erica. "How do you know that?"

Erica simply smirked at her and walked away. Olivia and Stiles exchanged an annoyed look and started following her, shoving past a few of their classmates who were standing in their way.

"Erica, do you know how they died?" Olivia asked as they caught up with her.

"Maybe," Erica shrugged. "If you tell me why you're so interested."

"Uh—"

"It's him, isn't it?" Erica studied Stiles' hesitant face.

"What?" Stiles asked awkwardly. "Who? Him, who?"

"The test didn't work but it's still him," she hummed thoughtfully. "It's Jackson."

"Yeah, it is," Olivia confirmed, ignoring Stiles' wide-eyed look. "but Derek knew that anyway."

Erica hummed.

"There's a lot more to this that you don't know about," Stiles told Erica. "And just because you got the alpha-bite-makeover doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

Olivia paused halfway down the hallway, rubbing her temple as her mind practically buzzed. She turned down the hallway that led to the locker room, following the voices that whispered names to her.

Allison. Scott. Jackson. Allison. Scott. Jackson.

"Why not?" Erica whipped around to face him. "That's all anybody ever used to do to me. I used to have the worst crush in the world on you. Yeah, you, Stiles, and you never once even noticed me."

Stiles had heard what Erica was saying and he was really flattered but he had to admit he wasn't paying much attention. His focus was on Olivia and her purple eyes as she walked down the hallway on autopilot. He wasn't even sure if she knew where she was going.

Erica sighed, seeing that Stiles was looking at Olivia. "Exactly how you're not noticing me right now."

As if the universe wanted Erica to know that Stiles and Olivia were distracted by something more important, the boys' locker room door flew open. Scott was thrown through the open doorway with Jackson right behind him.

Olivia, Erica, and Stiles lunged forward, trying to separate the two of them. Stiles and Olivia grabbed Scott, holding him back from Jackson, who was being wrangled by Erica. Allison stepped out of the locker room, looking at the two boys in horror.

"Scott, stop!" Stiles urged Scott, who was still fighting him. "Stop!"

"Guys!" Olivia shouted, grabbing onto Scott's hand, her eyes flashing purple.

In an instant, Scott stopped fighting, breathing heavily as he calmed down. Jackson was still struggling to get out of Erica's hold, not affected by Olivia's voice like Scott was.

"What the hell is going on?" a new voice boomed through the hallway.

Olivia and the others turned to see that Mr. Harris, along with a couple of their classmates, had come to see what the commotion was about.

"Enough!" Mr. Harris yelled. "What do you idiots think you're doing. Jackson, calm down!"

Jackson gritted his teeth and pushed away from Erica, though he did stop trying to lunge at Scott. Mr. Harris looked around at Olivia, Jackson, Erica, Stiles, Allison, and Scott, wondering what was going on.

"Mr. McCall, you wanna explain yourself?" he turned to Scott and Stiles as Olivia stepped away from him, her eyes back to their normal cobalt blue. "Stilinski?"

Matt Daehler, a guy that had always given Olivia the creeps, stepped forward, holding the iPad she had let Allison borrow. "You dropped this."

Mr. Harris ripped it away from him. "You and you," he pointed at Jackson and Scott before waving his hand at Olivia, Stiles, Erica, Allison, and Matt. "Actually, all of you—detention, three o'clock."

Olivia sighed in defeat as Mr. Harris handed her the iPad. There went her perfect record for having no detentions.

-

For the second time that day, Olivia walked into the library. This time, she was in a single file line with her peers, ready to begin her first-ever detention since the day was over. She was annoyed that she was even there, especially since Lydia had teased her about it for a full five minutes at lunch.

She quickly took a seat at the nearest table. Scott, Stiles, and Erica joined her, sitting down in the rest of the empty seats.

"Oh, uh, we can't be in detention together," Jackson spoke up smugly. "I have a restraining order against these tools."

Mr. Harris gave him an annoyed look. "All of these tools?"

"No, just us tools," Stiles gestured to himself and Scott.

"Fine," Mr. Harris sighed and pointed to the empty table across from Olivia's. "You two, over there."

Olivia smiled slightly and shrugged when Stiles gave her a pleading look; there wasn't anything she could do about their seating arrangements. Stiles pouted and stood up, following Scott over to the next table.

"I'm gonna kill him," Scott declared quietly as they sat down.

"No, you're not," Stiles sighed. "You're going to find out who's controlling him and then you're gonna help save him."

When did I become the voice of reason? He asked himself.

"No, you were right," Scott shook his head, sending Jackson a nasty glare. "Let's kill him."

Stiles palmed his forehead, hoping that Scott would calm down soon. Normally he was the one with the temper and other than Scott was out of control, he didn't have much of one. In fact, usually Scott was the calmest guy he knew.

Scott fell silent and continued to glare at Jackson. Stiles was pretty sure that he hadn't blinked once, which couldn't be good for the health of his eyes. Didn't people need to blink so their eyes could be hydrated?

Stiles' eyes flitted across the room, taking in what an empty library looked like. He didn't come here much, especially since he did most of his research at home with his MacBook. He glanced at Olivia, who was working on her calculus homework and then over at Allison and Jackson's table where Matt was eating some chips.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him; he was so fucking annoying. His eyes annoyed Stiles. His hair annoyed Stiles. The way he would always take pictures annoyed Stiles. Everything about Matt Daehler annoyed him. There was just something so sketchy about him.

"Hey," Stiles whispered to Scott. "What if it's Matt? I mean, this whole thing comes back to the video, right?"

"Danny said that Matt was the one who found the two hours of footage missing," Scott told him.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed quietly as he and Scott looked back over at Matt. "He was trying to throw suspicion off himself."

Scott looked back at him, skeptical. "So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your Jeep?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because he's evil," Stiles said obviously.

"You just don't like him," Scott accused.

"The guy bugs me," Stiles admitted, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know what it is. Just look at his face."

They both looked back at Matt, who was now offering Jackson some of his chips.

Scott pressed his lips together and gave Stiles a pointed look. "Any other theories?"

Stiles sighed heavily and rolled his eyes at him. He still thought that he was right. If it happened to be true, he was gonna tell Scott I-told-you-so. Yes, he was that petty.

"You okay?" Matt asked, catching the attention of everyone.

Stiles and Scott looked over just in time to see Jackson get out of his seat, holding his head like he had a massive headache.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Jackson mumbled.

Mr. Harris stood up, concerned. "Are you all right?" he walked over to Jackson. "Hey, you don't look so good."

"I just have to get some water," Jackson gasped as he walked out of the room, everyone's eyes following him.

Mr. Harris looked back at the others. "No one leaves their seats," he warned them before leaving the library to go after Jackson.

Of course, that was exactly what Stiles and Scott did as the door shut behind the chemistry teacher. They stumbled over to Olivia and Erica's table, taking the seats across from them.

"Stiles told me you know how Jackson's parents died," Scott confronted Erica.

"Maybe," Erica confirmed coyly.

Scott's eyes hardened. "Talk."

Erica closed the journal she had been writing in. "It was a car accident," she explained. "My dad was the insurance investigator and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's eighteen."

"So, not only is Jackson rich now but he's getting even richer at eighteen?" Stiles commented dryly.

Erica nodded. "Yep."

"There's something so deeply wrong with that," he grumped, making Olivia snort in amusement and send him a small smile.

His chest puffed up at that, glad that he got that reaction from her.

"You know what, I could try to find the insurance report on my dad's inbox," Erica offered, opening up her MacBook. "He keeps everything."

"Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office," the overhead speaker announced, sounding scarily like Mrs. Argent.

Olivia gave Scott a sympathetic look and Stiles winced as he stood up and sheepishly left the library. Luckily, it didn't take long for Erica to find the report. She quickly pulled it up and showed it to Olivia and Stiles, allowing them to read through it.

"Woah, look at the dates," Stiles pointed to the screen.

"Passengers arrived at the hospital D.O.A," Erica read. "The estimated time of death—9:26 P.M, June 14, 1995."

Olivia's eyes widened in horror. "Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth," she informed Stiles and Erica. "Which means that he was born while his birth mother was dead."

Olivia could understand how that would fuck up any person. Now she knew why Jackson was so upset about his adoption. That was a horrible way for someone to be born—or to die, honestly—and it couldn't be easy when he found out at the age of six.

Jackson and Mr. Harris arrived back in the library, Jackson sitting down in his seat without a word. Mr. Harris gathered his bag and walked over to the door, stopping when everyone looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," he chuckled mockingly. "Uh, yes, I'm leaving, but none of you are. You may go when you're done with the re-shelving. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He pointed to the two large carts beside him, full of books that looked to be out of order. He smirked at them before leaving the library; they could hear his laughter as he walked away.

"What a dick," Stiles grumbled, standing up.

"Tell me about it," Olivia sighed, closing her calculus notebook and following him over to one of the carts.

Allison joined them and the three of them pushed the cart over to one of the aisles to start sorting. Erica took her own pile of books and started putting them away, while Jackson and Matt worked on the other carts.

As Scott came back from the office, having received a lecture from Mrs. Argent, Olivia and Stiles quickly informed them what they found out about Jackson and his parents' deaths.

"Wait, so what does that mean?" Allison asked quietly after Stiles finished.

"It means that he was born after his birth mom died," Olivia whispered. "by C-section. They had to pull him out of her dead body."

"So, was it an accident or not?" Allison wondered.

"The report said that it was inconclusive," Stiles told them.

"Then his parents could have been murdered?" Scott asked.

"If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth," Olivia nodded. "It seeks out and kills murderers."

"But for Jackson or the person controlling him?" Allison brought up a good point.

Scott shook his head. "We have to talk to him," he declared. "We have to tell him."

As he left the aisle to talk to Jackson, Allison called after him, "He's not gonna listen—"

Olivia winced heavily as a jolt of pain zapped through her body. She bent at the waist, holding her head in her hands as the whispers she usually got were growing louder. She squeezed her hands against her ears, hoping to drown them out but it did nothing.

SCOTT. ALLISON. ERICA. JACKSON. STILES. SCOTT. ALLISON. ERICA. JACKSON. STILES. OLIVIA. OLIVIA. OLIVIA.

"Livvy, what's wrong?" Stiles grabbed her so she wouldn't collapse from the pain. "Livvy...?"

"GET DOWN!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the library.

At that moment, the kanima jumped up into the ceiling tiles, breaking the glass sheet that encased the lights and making them spark. While the kanima continued bounding around the room, destroying books and knocking over bookshelves, Stiles grabbed Allison and Olivia and covered them as they fell to the floor.

"Erica!" Scott shouted in warning.

Erica growled at the kanima but it didn't scare him; he slashed at the back of her neck, sending her to the ground.

Olivia winced and groaned loudly, the back of her neck tingling.

ERICA. ERICA. ERICA.

Scott hopped back into the aisle where Stiles, Olivia, and Allison were, jumping in front of them so he could protect them if necessary. Olivia still had her head on the floor, whimpering as she covered her ears but Stiles, Scott, and Allison watched as Jackson—half turned into the kanima—walked toward the rollaway chalkboard and wrote a message with his claws.

Get out of the way or I'll kill all of you.

Jackson turned back to the full kanima and jumped out of one of the windows at the top of the way, raining glass down onto the bookshelves and floor.

"Livvy, it's okay, he's gone," Stiles whispered, trying to coax Olivia off the floor.

It wasn't over, though. Not for Olivia and not for Erica. She could still hear her name in her head. Something had to be wrong with her.

Olivia shook her head and pulled her hands away from her ears, shocked to see that they had been bleeding. She ignored that for now and scrambled to her feet, running over to the next aisle.

She was right, something was wrong with Erica. She was seizing on the ground, her healing not kicking in. Stiles pushed past Olivia and joined Erica, holding her on her side so she wouldn't get more hurt.

"Hey, hey!" Stiles called over to Scott and Allison. "I think she's having a seizure."

Scott went to kneel on the other side of Erica and Allison went to the next aisle over, checking to see if Matt was okay.

"He's alive," Allison sighed in relief.

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital," Stiles suggested.

"No," Olivia spoke up; she knew that a hospital wouldn't be able to help Erica. "We need to take her to Derek."

"When we get her to the hospital—"

"No, to Derek," Erica choked out, in agreement with Olivia.

"Let's go," Olivia urged.

Scott didn't seem to care about the urgency in her voice. He ran over to Allison to tell her that he was staying with her, completely ignoring the situation with Erica.

"Scott, come on!" Olivia called, frustrated, as she went to help Stiles get Erica off the floor.

"Scott!"

After Scott dramatically said goodbye to Allison, Scott joined them and picked Erica up in his arms. The three of them raced out of the library, hoping that they could get to Derek on time.

-

Derek quickly led Olivia, Stiles, Scott, and Erica into the train car where he slept. He pointed to an empty spot on the floor and Scott laid her down, kneeling right next to her. Derek knelt on her other side, quickly inspecting her, while Stiles pulled Olivia into his side.

"Hold her up," Derek ordered Scott.

Scott pulled Erica onto his lap so Derek could have easier access to her.

"Is she dying?" Stiles asked, panicked.

"She might," Derek's voice was just as panicked, his eyes darting over Erica's body. "Which is why this is gonna hurt."

He firmly wrapped his hands around Erica's arm and jerked. The bones in her arms snapped loudly, causing her to scream at the top of her lungs. Olivia whimpered and buried her head into Stiles' chest, wishing that the whispers in her head would stop.

"You broke her arm?" Stiles asked incredulously.

"It'll trigger the healing," Derek wasn't pleased that he was questioning him. "I still gotta get the venom out. This is where it's really gonna hurt."

He squeezed Erica's broken arm, allowing some of her blood to drip onto the floor. Erica screamed again, louder this time. It felt like Olivia's ears were going to burst.

Finally, Erica's pain subsided and with it, the whispers in Olivia's head. She pulled away from Stiles' chest and sighed in relief as Erica flopped back into Scott, completely exhausted.

"Thank you," Erica breathed before promptly passing out.

Derek gently grabbed her from Scott and laid her on his bed. He made sure she was comfortable before leaving the car, gesturing for Olivia, Stiles, and Scott to follow him out.

"You know who it is," Scott confronted him before he could speak a word.

Derek sat on the large trunk on the other side of the room. "Jackson."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?" Olivia whispered hoarsely.

Derek nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm gonna help you stop him," Scott decided, furrowing his eyebrows at Derek. "As part of your pack. If you want me in, fine, but we'll do it on one condition."

Derek raised his eyebrows in question.

"We're gonna catch him, not kill him."

"And?"

"And we do it my way," Scott declared.

It was silent for a few seconds before Derek agreed, "Fine," he said grudgingly. "Now leave, I want to talk to Olivia."

"What for?" Stiles asked suspiciously.

Derek glared at him. "None of your business."

Stiles narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, probably about to spout some sarcastic comment or nasty insult but Olivia nudged him. She gave him a meaningful look when he glanced at her and then nodded to the door.

"It's fine," she whispered. "He'll drive me home."

"I'm not happy about this," Stiles stated loudly as Scott grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and started pulling him away from her. "This is not nice, Livvy. Okay, Scott, jeez. Call me when you're done!"

The door shut behind them, silencing the station.

Olivia looked at Derek expectantly. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Two things," Derek sighed, his face softening from the glare he gave Stiles. "First, I wanted to apologize to you about trying to kill Lydia. I should have listened to you and believed you when you said it wasn't her."

Olivia nodded. "You should have."

"Well, I'm sorry," Derek apologized. "It was wrong to go after her and I'm glad that it wasn't her."

Olivia gave him a small smile. "You're forgiven. Just don't try to kill her again."

"I won't."

"What's the other thing that you wanted to talk about?"

"I was hoping you would tell me, Ollie," Derek gave her a concerned look. "What's going on with you?"

Olivia bowed her head, pressing her lips together. Truthfully, she had no idea. All she knew was that the feelings she had been getting were the worst she had ever had. And it scared the shit out of her.

"I don't know," she looked back up at him with fearful eyes. "but I'm scared, Derek. Really scared."

"I know," he pulled her into a hug; she buried her head into his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. "It's okay, Ollie. We'll figure it out."

She really hoped so.

(Gif is not mine)

[damienthepious]

[spoilers re: the new ep redacted]

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 11)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [ao3] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: It is just the three of them, for a while. Until that begins to feel almost normal.

Chapter Notes: Psst. Happy Lizard Kissin' Tuesday! I am tired and have ceased to be creative. Chapter specific warnings for... hm. Some fraught arguments, I'll say. Not much more than that, this time.

~

Damien prefers to stay in the room, if Rilla and Arum are sharing space. Paranoid, Rilla thinks, but she can usually keep the frustration of it from biting at her. He's mostly harmless, anyway, and if she can get him talking enough to where he seems to forget Arum is there, it's almost pleasant. Arum pretends not to care one way or the other, but Rilla knows his body language well enough to tell when he's either nervous about Damien's scrutiny, or alternatively when he's just as drawn in to Damien's stories as she is.

"Amaryllis… explain the muttering to me," he asks, some afternoon when Damien has left to report back to the Citadel.

"The muttering?"

"Incessantly," Arum growls. "The muttering of your little knight. He is a poet, that much I understand, and the constant spinning of tales is not entirely disagreeable, but even leaving that aside, must he be always chanting to himself?"

"Yeah," Rilla says. "He actually does kind of must."

Arum frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It's important to him. Praying to Saint Damien."

"Saint," Arum hisses darkly, rolling his eyes.

"It helps him think, helps him keep himself calm."

"Tranquility," Arum mutters, his frown deepening. "Hm. That does not bother you, then? His chattering?"

"It's important to him," Rilla repeats. "Saints know I have my own irritating habits, anyway." She pauses as Arum scoffs, and then she shrugs. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I never got annoyed with him, but I love him. Talking to himself- talking to his Saint doesn't hurt anything. If it makes him happy, I wanna do my best to support that."

"How magnanimous of you," Arum drawls, his teeth bared in a vaguely malicious smirk.

Rilla frowns. "Don't."

He blinks. "Don't- what?"

"I know that look," she says. "I know you like pushing his buttons, and I know he's cute when he's flustered, but this- it wouldn't be the same, Arum."

"I- cute? I don't have the first idea what you are talking about, takatakataka."

"It's fine if you tease him," Rilla continues, "but I'd really appreciate it if you made an effort not to make fun of him for that."

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, and then he flinches and looks away from her for a long rattling moment. "I… I do not intend to do the knight any favors, Amaryllis, but I am perfectly capable of verbal sparring without taking a cheap shot," he mutters, and she buries a smile because of course he wouldn't agree because she asked, but if it's about his own pride-

"Thank you," she says anyway, and then she changes the subject before his growling gets too out of hand.

~

Rilla leans in the doorway of her hut in the morning, coffee steaming in her hand, slowly rounding out to awake as she watches Damien go through his routine with a lazy sort of hunger curling in her stomach.

She hears Arum behind her, limping slowly from his room on the crutch, and she tries not to feel irritated that he's pushing himself instead of asking for help. He is getting stronger, she reminds herself, and she buries the little flash of nerves that comes with the thought.

"Morning, Arum," she murmurs over her shoulder, and instead of going towards the table she hears him pause, and then approach, the crutch thumping rhythmically against the wood of her floor.

"What are you doing, little doctor? Why have a door at all if you intend to leave it hanging in the… wind…"

She doesn't turn towards him, tilting her head to better watch the way Damien is stretching instead. "Morning routine," she mumbles, her voice catching on a yawn at the end. "His, and mine too."

"A-ah," Arum says, and she hears him whir out a strange sort of exhale. "Routine?" he echoes. "He does this… regularly, then?"

"Almost every morning." She takes a slow sip of coffee, and then tilts her head the other way, watching the light gleam off of Damien's skin as he rolls his shoulders before he moves into his next set of forms. "Mm."

"And the- his- clothing-"

Rilla hums again, sighing a light laugh. "No point in getting his shirt all sweaty if he can avoid it," she says, making no effort to disguise the pleasure in her voice. "You won't hear any complaints from me," she murmurs, and then she takes another sip. "Anyway. You sleep alright, Arum?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, and Rilla glances over her shoulder. Arum's head is tilted as hers had been, his lips just barely parted, his tongue is flicking lightly, and his eyes are very obviously fixed on Damien.

Huh.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Hmm…" Arum trails off, then he blinks quickly as he seems to realize what she actually said. He flinches, the crutch skidding a step against the wood, and Rilla reaches automatically to stabilize him as he hisses in alarm. "Ah-"

"Whoa, easy- I've got you-"

He shakes his head, readjusting and then taking a large and decisive step back from her, back from the door.

"I-" his frill flutters, but he clenches his teeth and it settles before it can flare entirely. "Certainly you will forgive me for being distracted by the sight of the outdoors, Amaryllis. I have been cooped up in this hut for- for entirely too long. I am unused to prolonged captivity, I am sure you understand," he hisses, looking very deliberately away from both herself and the door, and then he hobbles over to sit at the table, growling low as he goes.

Rilla watches him go, too stunned to really respond to that. After a moment, the monster still refusing to look her way, she bites her tongue, and then she closes the door.

~

When Rilla comes into his room Arum is sitting on the edge of his cot, shoulders stiff, and he has her recorder in his claws. He stares up at her, eyes narrowed to vivid violet slits, hard and flat and angry, and Rilla feels a little pang of confused dread drop through her.

“Arum?” she says, and the monster’s lip curls into a sneer as he presses the button down on the device.

“Subject is severely injured,” says Rilla-in-the-past, her voice crackling through the recording and noticeably detached. “Wounds consistent with… attack by another monster. Likely, multiple.” The version of herself on the recording sighs. “Injuries will likely prove fatal. I’ve done what I can to stabilize the subject, but it hasn't regained consciousness, and it's unlikely that it will. Honestly, I would be surprised if it survives the night. Which is unfortunate, since this seems like it might actually be some sort of new and undocumented ashdragon variant, or possibly something even less documented than that, which would make it utterly unique. I guess I’ll see if it regenerates when this particular body dies, and then I’ll have that answer, at least.” Another sigh, some shifting noises. Rilla imagines herself moving some papers aside, possibly a bestiary being closed. “Well, either way I’ll get some interesting data out of it. Even if it doesn’t regenerate when it dies, I’m sure I’ll be able to learn something useful in dissection.”

Arum stops the playback. He drums his claws off of the recorder in a rapid-fire staccato, still staring up at her in silence.

“Arum,” she tries again after a moment.

“I hope, human, that I have provided enough useful data in my convalescence that I have made up for the inconvenience of not dying and presenting you the option of weighing my internal organs.”

“That's not-”

“I knew it was all a lie, I knew there was no possibility that your precious little I am a doctor nonsense was genuine.”

“It was, Arum, I didn’t lie-”

“You kept me alive to gather data. You’ve been spoon-feeding me so as to get a better picture of how your knights might take me and my kin to pieces. None of this was because you-” he cuts off. “How long were you planning to maintain this little play-act? How long until your pet knight was meant to slit my throat? Did you simply want to get in sight of my nest before you destroyed me? How much data were you going to gather before you decided you had properly wrung me dry, Amaryllis?”

“That wasn’t what I-”

“Don’t lie to me, human! I have had enough of this farce.”

Rilla presses her lips together, her throat feeling tight. He’s not going to listen, right now. Not to her, not to-

He won’t listen to her now. But…

“Skip ahead on the recorder,” she says.

“What?”

“Skip to entry four two one one. Should be… eighteen to twenty after the one you just played, I think.”

“Why?” he snarls, ducking his head and clutching the recorder close against the bandages on his midsection.

“Because there’s something else you should hear, too. You heard what I said when I first found you. You should hear what I said after. If you really think that I’ve been using you for some sort of spy work, then the rest of it should interest you too, right?”

He hesitates, his expression tightening. “Perhaps I have no interest in hearing myself cataloged, doctor.”

“Please. Just- listen to it. And then you can decide if you want to- I don’t know. How you want to proceed. But before you make any sort of decision, please- please just listen, Arum.”

Arum stares at her for another long moment, suspicious with a growl in his throat, and then he moves his thumb, sending the recording forward with a thin squeal of sound. He overshoots the start of the entry a little, and it cuts in just in the middle of a word.

“-ter than that, and it seems like his frill is really starting to knit together properly. Finally. It’s been tricky since it’s only a half-conscious thing, the flaring, but- I mean, it’s hard to complain about. It’s always so funny when he gets indignant and it just- fwoops out like that and-”

She laughs on the recording, breathless, and Rilla remembers this moment with exact clarity. The door to his room had been cracked, she could just see half his face through the gap as he rested, the gentle light of early morning on his scales and his expression untroubled in sleep-

“He’s beautiful,” she says, and she still feels the little stunned swoop that realization had made her feel. “He’s… I didn’t know a monster could be so beautiful. I didn’t know they could be funny either, honestly, or- or-”

There is a pause.

“Saints…”

Another pause. Quite long.

“He… um. He’s improving by leaps and bounds, now,” she says, her voice a little clipped, a little muted. “He can almost stand on his own, though it tires him out. He’s… soon he’ll be well enough to travel, I think. Which means we’re going to have to have another conversation, soon, about- about exactly how we're gonna get him back home. And that shouldn’t… it shouldn’t hurt to think about that, should it? It’s good. It’s a good thing that he’s… soon he’ll be well enough to go home, to be free again, to go back where he belongs and rest and recover where he’ll be comfortable and safe, but-”

A little half-laugh.

“I’m gonna miss him, is the only thing. I’ve gotten so used to having him around, and- and even if he’s always arguing about the methodology he’s been so- it’s been nice to have him around when I’m doing my experiments, I mean- it would have taken me ages to think of modifying my bandages with machracnid silk, and the improvement to the elasticity is- but that isn’t even the point, you know? He’s just- he’s-”

Less of a laugh.

“It's almost time for him to go home. It’s the only way to keep him safe. The longer he stays here- I know Damien won't hurt him, not anymore. I think he’s seen it too, he’s seen how- how much- he’s seen Arum, really seen him. I know he has. But every day Arum stays here is another risk, is another chance that he’ll be seen or- and if that happens, then what? I don’t care what they do to me, I’m not afraid of them, but Arum- he’s still not strong enough to defend himself, and even if he was, what would he do against an armed squadron of knights? I wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect him, and- he- I can’t let that happen. I won’t. I won’t let the Citadel hurt him. So- so… so he has to go home. It doesn’t matter that I- it doesn’t matter how I feel. I have to get him home. He deserves- he-”

“Amaryllis?”

Arum’s voice, distant and a little distorted on the recorder, and Rilla-in-the-past gasps lightly. Rilla remembers pressing a hand to her mouth. Remembers plastering on a smile.

“I’m here, Arum. Just a second.” A rustle, and then, quieter, “I’m gonna make him well again. And then I’m gonna get him home. I’ll miss him… I’ll miss him so badly. But I’ll get him home. End of log.”

Arum stares at the device in his hand, his frill flaring around his head in a way that Rilla would otherwise think is appropriately comical. Now, it just makes her want to do something foolish.

The next entry starts a little too loud and they both jump, Arum pressing his thumb decisively down on the button to stop the playback. When he finally looks up at her again, his eyes are still guarded, but no longer furious.

“What… what was the point of that, then?” he asks, voice thick and low.

“To show you how I think about you now. That first day- I didn’t know you, Arum. And that’s not an excuse. Monsters aren’t- you aren’t what I thought you were, and I had no idea- I was cruel. I was callous and clinical in a way that I hate, and I’m sorry you had to hear that. But I was never, never doing any of this to get information on monsters for the knights. Never. And I would do anything to keep them from hurting you now.”

“You… why?”

“I care about you.”

“You do not. I heard- what you said, you wouldn’t simply turn-”

“I don’t agree with how I dealt with the situation, Arum. I- I don’t see you in the same way. Not anymore, and- honestly? I stopped seeing you that way the first time you woke up and I saw- I saw that look in your eyes. And then it got more and more obvious the longer I was around you, the more I talked to you. You… Arum, the luckiest moment of my entire life was when I happened to look at the lake at just the right time to see you. If I hadn’t- if-” she has to stop, to press a hand to her mouth. “I hate the thought that if I just hadn’t looked, you would have died out there. Died alone, in that much pain, out in the wilds. That- Arum, you’re- you deserve- you’re special to me, and I had no idea how special you would be when I first found you.”

“So why keep those notes, then?” he asks after a pause, his tone carefully blank.

“Because,” she says, frowning. “Because of this. Not you finding them, I mean, but because you don’t learn from mistakes if you try to bury them. I’m not going to try to make something go away because it’s inconvenient. I was horrible, the way I talked about you, the way I thought about you, about all monsters. There’s- there so much more out there than I ever knew, and I can’t believe I let myself be so ignorant of it for so long.” She shakes her head, then after a half second of hesitation she steps towards him. She reaches a hand out and- he misinterprets, lifting out the recorder for her to take. She moves her hand aside, instead, slipping her palm along the back of his hand and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. He inhales, sharp, his eyes widening as he looks up at her. “I’m sorry, Arum. Sorry that I talked about you like that, and sorry that you had to hear it after I- after I finally convinced you to trust me, even a little. I’m sorry, and I hope I haven’t- I hope I haven’t broken anything that can’t still be fixed.”

“Amaryllis,” he says, and then he drops his eyes. He does not move his hand, his grip on the recorder flexing awkwardly. “You- you’ve broken nothing, Amaryllis. We- you-”

His voice scatters off, unsure and lost, and after a moment he raises two more hands, one to grip the hem of his cape, and the other reaching by slow inches to brush his palm down her forearm until he can loosely wrap his fingers around her wrist, an echo of the way she is holding him. Her skin tingles at the touch, the gentleness and the cool strange texture both.

“You’ve broken nothing,” he repeats in a low murmur, and then he finally looks up at her again, that gentle violet pinning her in place. “You… you are meant for mending, Amaryllis.”

Her dark cheeks darken further, her lips parting in wordless surprise, and their arms are still clasped as they stare- they are simply staring at each other, now, and-

“Your…” Arum swallows, his thumb on her wrist moving just barely, just gently, tickling the skin at the heel of her palm. “Your heart is beating quite quickly, Amaryllis.”

“You know what a- a quick pulse feels like, in a human?” She asks, raising an eyebrow despite the slight breathlessness in her tone.

“I know what your pulse sounds like. I know when it is…” he trails off, possibly at the way she blinks, startled.

“You can- hear my heart?” She gives the smallest breath of laughter. “Your hearing is ridiculous, huh?”

“Vastly superior to you mammals, anyway,” he mutters, and he barely makes an effort to act as if he means it.

“Your heart is beating pretty fast too, you know,” She says quietly, and his hand flexes against her skin.

“Y-yes, well,” he glances aside, then he sits up a little straighter without pulling away before he meets her eye again. “I apologize, also. For- for ambushing you with this.”

“You don’t have to,” Rilla shakes her head. “I know that what I said was-”

“I have been searching for things to distrust. Digging for proof of deception, for anything that would indicate that your intentions were false, so that I could have some fuel for my anger. I wanted to be angry with you. It is not… easy for me, to accept help, or to- to indulge in hope.” His mouth presses into an uncomfortable line, his frill pressing tight against his neck. “Always you are harping on evidence and proof, and I know- I have seen-” he exhales sharply, not quite a sigh. “I know that you are… genuine, in… caring for me. I do not understand it, but I know. And if- if you- if you are willing to show me such so readily, I should be able to…”

“Arum, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Rilla says, and he shakes his head.

“If I ever-" he pauses. "When. When I return home, at last, I will… I will miss you as well, Amaryllis.”

Their eyes are fixed, each with a hand still gently clasped around the other’s wrist, and Rilla finds that she doesn't quite know how to breathe, with him looking at her like that. Not a great response, Rilla, keep it together-

“In fact,” Arum says very quietly, and his thumb brushes against her skin again and she shivers with gooseflesh instantly. “In fact, Amaryllis, I would say-”

“Rilla?”

Rilla only glances over her shoulder at the suddenness of Damien’s voice in the front room, but Arum pulls his hands away as if burned, his expression going shuttered and distant again. She can’t help the sting of frustration, at that. It’s not fair, of course. Damien is still… well, it’s difficult, anyway. But Rilla is stuck with her mind five seconds ago when Arum’s thumb was gentle on her wrist and he had started to say something. Something Rilla gets the feeling she’s not going to get the chance to know, now, like it’s been chased away. She feels like a glass that got struck on the edge of a table, still ringing. She wants to know where that moment was supposed to go, but now-

She sighs, smiling despite herself. “One sec, Damien,” she calls lightly. “Probably good that he reminded me,” she says, more casual than she feels as Arum looks up at her uncertainly. “I just got done making lunch. It should still be warm. Did you- do you want to join us? I promise I’ll make Damien behave, and if he doesn’t wanna he can just go eat on the stump outside again.”

She’s only half kidding, and the mild mischief in Arum’s eyes at that possibility manages to creep past his guarded veneer.

“I suppose that sounds… agreeable enough. I shall be interested to see if the little knight will stoop to share a table with a monster, today.”

“He’ll deal,” Rilla says. She takes the recorder back from him, and then lifts her hands out again. “Steady enough to stand, Arum?”

He frowns, but he looks aside and reaches an arm to allow her to help pull him up to standing. It’s still a little odd, looking up at him after spending so long with him in that bed, where he has to peer up at her. He still leans on her, just a little, though. Just a very little. Just enough that he could deny it, if asked. His body beside her own is heavy, slightly cool, fascinatingly textured, as always. She does her best not to think about that.

Damien watches them exit Arum's room with guarded eyes, but he does not mention their proximity, nor does he comment on it when Rilla helps Arum settle himself on one of the cushions around the table. After a quiet moment, while Rilla takes her own seat between them, Damien takes the pitcher of water, and he fills three glasses.

~

"What…" Arum pushes a small stack of books aside after dinner, pulling one thin volume out from beneath the rest, and his eyes are narrowed and confused when Rilla glances his way. "What is this?"

Ah. Damn. Rilla absolutely hadn't meant to leave that out- she must have slipped it in with the wrong pile before she put her dads' books back under the floorboards. "Oh," she says, trying to sound casual. Damien is looking at the book too, now, which isn't exactly great. "Uh. I'm not sure. I haven't been able to translate it properly, so I only kind of have an idea what's in there."

Arum frowns, something that isn't quite suspicion crossing his face. "… is this why you asked me about monster languages, before?"

Rilla blinks. "What? No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna bring you a stack of books you couldn't even read."

Arum seems satisfied enough with that answer, but still he turns the slim book in his hands, eying the cover. "Hm. This is simply a coincidental curiosity, then?"

"It- I couldn't find you in my bestiaries, so I wound up pulling out… well-"

"You kept your fathers' books?" Damien asks softly, and she doesn't look at him, trying hard not to wince. "I thought their more…" he coughs, "questionable possessions were- were confiscated."

"Most of them were," Rilla says, her tone going bitter. "Not all. I kept what I could."

"You were looking for me?" Arum says, an eyebrow raising.

"Well-" Rilla glances between the pair of them. "Yeah. I figured that if I could find out exactly what you were it would help me figure out how to treat you more effectively. No such luck, by the way."

Oddly, Arum smiles at that, something smug in the expression as he flips through the pages, his scales making a whispery noise against the paper. "It seems you managed my treatment quite skillfully, regardless, Amaryllis."

Damien narrows his eyes, as if he's trying to find a way to make that sentence fit as a dig instead of a compliment, and then he shakes his head and refocuses on Rilla.

"Why did you not tell me?"

"It- I mean, when we started seeing each other it wasn't like-" her eyes flick around the hut, noting uncomfortably the way that Arum is watching her too. "You're a knight, Damien, I didn't know when I met you that you wouldn't get me in worse trouble for-"

"Oh, my darling flower-"

"It wasn't like I lied, Damien, I just- I didn't know how to bring it up. I-" she pauses, and tries a vague sort of smile. "It just kind of got to the point where I hadn't talked about it for so long, you know? Got to a point where it seemed- like it'd been too long already, and I couldn't change my mind about it."

Damien sighs deeply, reaching a hand out to cup her cheek. "Oh, Rilla… I am sorry you felt that there was anything you could not share wi-"

"I could translate this for you," Arum interrupts, and the both of them turn towards him. He isn't looking at them in return, his eyes firmly on the book as his tail coils tightly around an ankle. "The dialect is somewhat more eastern than I am entirely used to, but the bones of the language seem familiar enough. I suppose you already inferred from the illustrations and the size that it is a rather limited botanical census."

"Yeah," Rilla says, her voice bright with surprise. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was hoping." She pauses. "You'd really be willing to do that?"

"It's a book of herbs, Amaryllis. You can hardly do any harm with it." He glances towards her, his eyes guarded, and then he looks to the book again. "Seems a small sort of service I can easily provide. It shall not even begin to edge the scales between us towards even, I should think," he mutters, and then before she can respond to that, he points to one of the entries in the middle. "We can start here. I do not suppose you are familiar with this herb at all. It grows in a rather small range, quite a ways to the East."

Rilla doesn't want to let him deflect from the fact that he apparently sees her treatment of him as transactional, but she doesn't want to have that sort of conversation with Damien a foot away, either. She's already had one awkward conversation in front of someone who probably didn't want to be there, tonight. "Yeah, that would be- incredible, actually. Just let me grab the notes I already made, and-" she stands, and she tries not to look too uncomfortable or too eager as she goes to pull up the false floorboard in her bedroom to fetch the right journal. "Okay," she says as she returns, shuffling through the pages, "so I managed to work out the numeral system, I think, if you want to just check my work there before we dig into the conte-"

"Knock knock. "

The voice comes simultaneous with an accompanying actual knock, on the doorframe and not the actual door from the sound of it, and Rilla flinches hard enough that she drops the book in her hand to thwump to the floor. Damien rolls from his seated position to snatch it before she can, his own expression openly concerned, and Arum's frill is pressed tightly to his neck as he eyes the door in alarm, his tail coiling and then curling around his own ankle.

Rilla pats a hand in the air, a gesture for quiet, and no one moves for a long moment as she waits for whoever the hell to take the hint. It's late, even on a day when she was open she'd be unlikely to come to the door at this hour.

"Knock, uh, knock?" the voice comes again. "C'mon, Rilla, your favorite guest is here! I know you're home, there's smoke coming from the chimney-"

"Marc. Shit," Rilla scrambles, reaching to help Arum pull himself to his feet as she calls, "we're closed, come back- come back later. Tomorrow! Come back tomorrow!"

"Marc," Damien mutters, clutching the book to his chest with a scowl.

"C'mon, Rilla. I know you've got a minute for your best friend," Marc calls through the door. "Can you open up?"

"Dammit," Rilla hisses, and Arum chokes down a very nervous sort of laugh as Rilla presses a hand against his shoulder, making sure he's standing stable. "Marc, I really can't hang out with you right now! I'm- I'm right in the middle of-"

"I, uh, really, really can't, Rilla. Can you-" he pauses, and she can hear Dampierre's hooves shifting against the dirt. "Can you please open up? I… uh…"

Rilla stiffens, grits her teeth, and sighs. "You're… out of medicine."

There is a pause.

"I'm out of medicine," Marc confirms in a quick mutter. "But! But only just barely, Rilla, like, less than five minutes ago barely!"

"Marc!" Rilla complains, and then she stops herself to take a deep breath. She can handle this. She just- has to make up enough for the day, and then- then she can get him out of her hair for long enough to make a proper batch he can pick up tomorrow. She frowns at Arum, and then at Damien, and then she calls out, "Two minutes, Marc. Give me two minutes, alright?"

Marc gives some sort of relieved confirmation, but Rilla isn't really paying attention anymore as she walks Arum partway across the room, and then she passes the monster into Damien's arms as the knight splutters, his cheeks going dark as Arum hisses in alarm.

"Shush," she says with a scowl. "Damien, just walk him to his bed. Please? He can't be in here, we can't risk him being seen and I just- have to get Marc out of here."

"But," Damien squeaks, "but Rilla, I-"

Damien doesn't strain under Arum's weight, he's perfectly capable of supporting the monster, but he leans away awkwardly, leaving Arum to grit his teeth and sway in a way that makes Rilla instantly nervous. Her scowl deepens and she steps closer again to push Arum more securely into Damien's grip as each of them makes another quiet, indignant noise. "Into Arum's room, Damien, now. If you drop him I will be furious with you. No time to argue. Just do it."

Damien swallows, then meets Arum's eyes for only a moment before his cheeks darken further and he looks sharply away. He nods, though, and shuffles Arum into his room, the both of them wincing through the movement as Rilla marches in the other direction to throw the front door open and glower up at Marc as he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Is there- uh. D'you have company over, Rilla? Because you could have just said- "

"Marc? Please shut up," she says, already turning back and marching to start throwing together ingredients, her hands moving quickly over bottles and jars. "You know I'm busy, and if you and Tal want to stop by with no warning then you don't get to complain that I'm not ready to jump up and help!"

"Well I mean- it's just me, this time."

He sounds sheepish, and Rilla glances over her shoulder in surprise. "Wh- huh. Where's Tal, then?"

"Doing something dumb somewhere dumber," Marc scowls.

"Marc." Rilla turns away again, snatching up ingredients as she goes. "Come on."

"He stayed behind to take a job, and- if he just stayed with me we wouldn't have gotten lost and we definitely would have gotten here a lot sooner!"

"Sure," she says. "Whatever." Rilla can't actually decide if it would have been better or worse if the pair of them had visited a week or so ago. Might have been awkward for the boys to come knocking when Arum was collapsed by her front door, at the very least. Her lip pulls into a frown and she refocuses, rattling off the list of components as she mixes them together, but when she reaches for the last of the bunch-

She pulls down an empty jar. And then a second empty jar.

"Oh, come on. Really?"

"Uh, what's up?"

"The Numb-Cap. I'm out," Rilla groans, dropping her head to thunk off of the cabinet in front of her. "I used all of it because I had to make up so many batches of painkiller for-"

She pauses.

"For?" Marc calls warily, and Rilla grits her teeth.

"Another patient, Marc, because you're not the only person relying on me!"

"Well, I mean, uh. If you made up so much of it-"

"I made so much because I needed it, Marc! And even if I hadn't used it up, it's not even the same recipe as your pills. Which means- " she cuts off into an exasperated exhale, smacking her palms on the counter.

"Which means- what?"

"I need to go get more Numb-Cap. Now . And leave-"

She cuts herself off again.

"Well- I mean, if you're too busy to leave I can run off and collect the dumb mushrooms myself, right? I'll just grab a few and come back and-"

"There is no way I would trust mushroom identification to any untrained non-mycologist in the middle of the night, let alone you, Marc," she growls, marching towards the door and grabbing her boots. "You wanna have actual effective medicine, or d'you wanna wake up in a week with no clothes and no idea where you've been? Or, more likely, just choke to death on some fun magic poison?"

"Well, that first one doesn't sound so bad-"

"Marc." Rilla grips the doorframe tight. "This is, and I need you to understand this, wildly inconvenient for me right now, but I'm going to go out into the jungle with you, collect some stupid mushrooms in the dark, and come back to make more medicine for you. But first you gotta just- chill out here for a minute while I t- while I grab my stuff. Okay?"

"Yeah," Marc says, sounding just barely chastised enough as Dampierre whickers and stamps beneath him. "Uh. Yeah, Rilla, okay."

She sighs, then presses the door firmly closed so she can gather herself for a moment before she darts to the exam room. Arum is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the door as she enters, and Damien is carefully placed at the opposite end of the room leaning against a counter until he sees her enter, at which point he straightens up again.

"You're leaving? " Arum asks before she can say a word, and Damien stumbles as he crosses the room.

"What?!"

"That is what she just told the loud one at the door," he growls, gesturing towards her with narrowed eyes.

"Rilla you can't possibly-"

"I really can possibly, Damien," she says, grabbing a pair of work gloves from the counter and then coming close enough to grab Damien's hands tight. "Marc needs that medicine and it won't work without the ingredient I'm missing. It'll probably only be a few hours, I know where they usually grow, but it's a bit of a walk."

"But Rilla, surely- if you are venturing into the jungle then I must accompany-"

"I'll be fine, Damien, Marc and I can handle anything that happens. And I-" she squeezes his hands, winces. "I need you here a lot more."

"Here? But-" he looks towards Arum, and then they both look away.

"You realize that I do not require moment-by-moment babysitting, Amaryllis," Arum snarls.

"Precisely, and I-"

"Damien, I really don't want to have to deal with you and Marc fighting while I'm already stressed out about making sure he gets his next pill before his last one wears off," she admits in a rush, and Damien winces. "Please, please just stay here, don't fight for like, just a few hours, I promise, and- and everything will be fine. Just keep an eye on the stew and bring him a bowl when it's done, okay? That's your one job. Just that, and not fighting. And preferably not freaking out, either. Can you do that for me, Damien? Please?"

He wilts, just a little, his eyes going soft and his hands pulling her close enough that he can press a kiss to her temple. "Of course. Of course I can. Such small favors you ask of me, my love," he says, very lightly, and she laughs. "Of course. I should be used to the urgency with which your brilliance is needed, by now."

She breathes a laugh, then kisses his cheek before she pulls back from his hands, eying Arum (his own eyes carefully turned away from the both of them again). "You too, okay?"

"Me too, what, precisely?" he mutters. "I will not be going anywhere, and so long as the little songbird does not shoot me I cannot imagine I would have any way of coming to harm."

Damien scowls, but Rilla steps a bit closer to the monster, reaching out to tap the tip of his snout lightly, making him blink and hiss lightly in response.

"A couple hours. Just be nice, for Saints' sake. Or-" she laughs. "For my sake, at least."

Arum frowns (or pouts, more accurately), but something about the way his lip twitches makes her think he's trying to clamp down on a smile, and that makes her feel a little better about this whole thing when she returns to the door.

"Don't have too much fun without me," she says, and as they both splutter she closes the door behind her.

[->]

[bsdmess]

Port Mafia (Mori, Chuuya, Higuchi, Kouyou, Kaiji, and Hirotsu) headcanons as parents

Request: IT IS I AGAIN TO SEND MY FIRST REQUEST Mori, Chuuya, Higuchi, Kouyou, Motojiro, and Hirotsu on how they'll take care of their children (totally not because of that lemon idea) (*・ω・)ノ

I don't know if this is okay, because my mind was going with ideas so this is a little more generic than I wanted to? Sorry, sweetie. Hope you like it!

Mori Ogai:

Have you seen him with Elise? Yeah

The same

without the creepy part

Your children know how to get Mori on his feet

Maybe they even team up with Elise

And Mori does everything they want

Do they want that dress? Sure! Do they want that sweet? Yes!!!!

Mori knows the limits tho, so sometimes you don't always need to step up in the situation

sometimes

He would let their children know about the mafia, not that much, but only a little if they are still young

if they are going to be older, he would let them know anything and answered any question they have

Mori at first would be totally against the idea of their children being in the mafia too

He kinda wants them to be independent

When the baby is a newborn, he would take care of them in a very delicate way and all, almost like they are made of glass

Seriously Mori gets so warm and happy with your child in his hands or just looking at them

Nakahara Chuuya:

Cool dad

His children are very good and polite, and they know what to do or what not to do

Maybe they are a little delinquent, but it's not that bad

And still very polite

Kicking ass but with words

When his children are newborn, he had tons and tons of dresses

There's a wine dress too

Chuuya just can't stop buying things for your newborn, he loves them so so much and wants to spoil them already

And that's why your children have 300 toys

And if he's a good mood Chuuya would let them do what they want to him

Playing with his hair, makeup, etc

I just imagine Chuuya going to the president of the child school, because they kick someone or else similar, and he's just going "oh god... You did that? Dad is going to teach you anything about martial arts. Don't worry."

Kicking ass but with elegance

He'll teach his children to protec themself, Chuuya is just very scared that somebody bad is going to happened at them

Ichiyou Higuchi:

AAAAAAAA????

A Mess

Seriously a mess

She loves your children, but they are times where she thinks she isn't a good mother

Higuchi obviously isn't a perfect mother, but she tries to be good

And she is

She isn't a very strict, Higuchi has a few rules, but are mostly like "do your homework before anything" "be back before 20", things like that

Very simple rules, but that's why if your baby doesn't follow them their are fucked

Because yeah they are very simple, but also very important, so they need to understand

Higuchi would get their children to swim or to learn an instrument

They know how to swim or how to play at least an instrument (mostly piano or violin), but if they want to do something else they probably need to wait after their learn to swim or to play an instrument

Do you want to play karate? Learn to swim first. Do want to play the guitar? Learn the piano first.

Higuchi would try to not let her children near to the mafia, especially if younger, and she isn't surprised if, in the end, their children get in the mafia too

She would ask the black lizard to look up for her baby mostly because she is worried for them

Kouyou Ozaki:

Sweet mom

To the point that she's too much sweet, even if angry, she would kiss their children in the forehead or give them sweets

But Kouyou is very strict as a parent, if she or you say something, she aspect they children to do what told

Like if they should come back home at 7, they probably would come back earlier

Because better not anger mommy Kouyou

Trust me better not

Kouyou would go to paranoid when they are out, even when the daughter/son is 20

Kouyou is very protective of their child, before accepting a friend or a partner she almost does an interrogatory

You said that is unnecessary, but sometimes Kouyou still insist on it

Very proud of her children

Especially if they take different path outside the mafia

Kouyou is going to be not happy to see that their children are in the mafia, but she tries her best to help them or to leave the mafia

that type of mom which has 3000 photos of her children everywhere

in the office, in the wallet, at your home just everywhere

Kaiji Motojirou:

Crazy dad

Actually not that bad

I mean everything in your child bedroom is yellow or in a lemon form

That yellow dress goddamit

But IT'S NOT THAT BAD I SWEAR

He helps the children with everything he mostly if is science

Kajii is just a big nerd, so he gets very excited even if he's a smaller thing

like your child needs to do math, even if is math for children, he is just happy to do math with his baby lol

Maybe too much

i kinda imagine him wanting his baby to have the same passion for science as him, but he is able to understand that it’s totally fine if they are not into science 

but you’re gonna comfort him a little, he’s just sad

I don't imagine Kaiji being a very strict parent, in fact, he's the most "calm"

By that I mean that he doesn't yell at your children (please don't do that), Kaiji would try to educate them with fun, especially when the baby is younger

Because everything seems fun when you're little

Kaiji doesn't care if his children get in the mafia, just be safe and he's okay with that

In general Kaiji is a great dad, maybe crazy over lemon or science, but a good one

His children would love him even more if he just stop buying them yellow or lemon things

Unless they have the same obsession as him, in that case good luck

Ryurou Hirotsu:

Stop smoking near the childREN GODDAMIT

He doesn't do it with malice or else, he just... Forget

That's the age Hirotsu

A very cool and traditional dad

I imagine him being a strict and kinda traditional parent

And that's why his children are mostly delinquents lol

He will tell them to not get in the mafia, and the next day Hirotsu see his baby in the mafia

"Wassup dad"

Traditional because “you can’t date until you are 14″ rules, but also cool because Hirotsu would let his baby do almost anything they want if it doesn’t break the rules

“Do you want to go to your friend's house to sleep? Okay, just call us to say goodnight.” “Are you going out? Come back before 8″

Also strict because, Hirotsu doesn’t expect them to be the best, but to be at least good at school. He doesn’t expect the best votes, but at least sufficient votes

But if they are bad a school, cool Hirotsu is gone, because school is very important

They can’t go out more than twice, usually around the weekend, and Hirotsu would aid somebody to help them with homework

Also that kind of dad that would have interrogatory with the partner of his baby because they must be worthy

Like Kouyou, Hirotsu has 3000000 photos of his children everywhere and he isn't afraid to show to the world.

Seriously Hirotsu isn't going to stop talking about his children that easily, you need to distract him with something else

and it's not 100% sure is going to work

If his children are married or with a partner for a very long time he's just going to ask when they are going to have a baby. Hirotsu wants to be a grandfather. Let him be a grandpa.

[codenamesazanka]

Short Spinner Fic!

Well, more like meta/headcanon turned prose. Sorta. unbeta’d, terrible grammar prob, very on the nose, but I just had to write something that dealt with what we learned about Spinner’s past. 

1,615 words. Set right after Stain got captured, with all that fun stuff about discrimination. 

-

The night Spinner saw the news report that would change his life, he had spent ten minutes lingering outside his landlord’s door, trying to work up the nerve to knock.

From his third floor apartment to her home on the first floor - that short walk took three minutes maximum, but in that time the heat and humidity of the May evening had already made his hair damp and the collar of his shirt slightly darken with moisture. By the dim glow of the streetlight, Spinner tried to use his phone’s selfie camera to see if he looked too bad, but his nervousness at appearing sloppy only added sweat to his sorry appearance. The snickering of a couple of kids that passed by him hadn’t help.

He should be fine, Spinner had muttered to himself, tried to convince himself, shoving the phone into a pocket. He was fine. She wasn’t going to even notice.

But of course she did. When his landlord opened the door, he saw her smile fade slightly at the sight of him; then the curve of her mouth disappeared completely as her eyes swept over his messy hair and landed on his hand that was discreetly trying to stop his shirt from sticking to his skin.

It was only downhill from there.

He had stammered, had tried to keep a smile on his face until he realize he was probably looking like crazy dumbass; then he had worried too much about the appropriate distance he should be keeping (His landlord was a petite woman that barely reached maybe 5 foot, and he was a 6-foot lizard man. Standing too far away would be weird, and standing too close meant, besides the obvious, that he would have to look down at her, which he thought might seem disrespectful).

When he told her about the broken AC, she had asked if he wasn’t enjoying the warm weather, and Spinner had let the silence drag on too long as he wondered what she might have meant by that. Such an innocuous question, but it made his pulse quicken. Was she making a comment that assumed he was more comfortable with heat because he looked like a lizard (answer: no, because he wasn’t cold-blooded; so no, he didn’t like the heat; and yes, he can get heatstroke, so if the AC wasn’t going to get fixed in time for the worst heat of July...)? Did that mean she wasn’t going to do anything about it, if it didn’t seem like a serious matter?

Or was he being paranoid? Insulting, even, for this unfounded accusation?

So the talk had achieved nothing, except maybe giving his landlord an even worse impression of him. He hadn’t even told her about the suspicious grey spots that was covering more and more of his ceiling with each passing day. (Monsoon season sucked.)

Back at his apartment, Spinner opened a can of beer and sat slumped against the wall, using his phone to look up ways to remove the mold himself. He clicked the first link, found himself immediately redirected to a product page that flashed it’s 5500 yen deal at him, and promptly gave up.

That was when he opened his Tweetr feed for some mindless scrolling and saw the internet aflame with news about an attack on Hosu.

-

All day at work, Spinner kept checking for updates on the Hero Killer Stain, so much that his boss threaten to break his phone and fire him. But even that couldn’t clear the cloud of obsession that had developed inside his head.

At first it was simply fun to watch and rewatch the video of him rescuing a kid, how cool it was to see the man escape from the ropes that bound him, zoomed past the Heroes, leapt into the air to take down the winged beast with a single stab to the brain. Those blades and that red scarf, snaking through the air behind him. All in a matter of seconds, and all that not being his quirk. Pure normal human ability.

From there, it was reading the articles that kept coming out - that happened in Hosu, who Stain was, what he had done.

What he believed in.

There was once when Spinner wanted to be a Hero. What kid hadn’t? He dreamed of it. Being able to wear an awesome costume, beating up bad guys and bullies and saving people, getting to be on TV and making lots of money. Heroes were amazing and they could do anything. Heroes had all sorts of different quirks, the only thing that matter being how well they could use their ability. Heroes could be anyone - even mutants like him.

And as dreams do, that faded when he grew up and woke up to real life.

Watching the viral video that someone had made of the Hero Killer, though, Spinner realized Stain kept his dream. Forced it into reality, undaunted by hard work or danger or the law. He saw something wrong with the world and decided to change it. Just like that. It was badass. It was admirable.

It was Heroic.

So how ironic and slightly disappointing it was, that Stain was now called a Villain, that it turned out he was working with that group that attacked those UA kids a few months back. Spinner found the grainy zoomed-in clip of the two guys standing on top of a water tower, watching the chaos in the city below. He found all he could about the UA incident and the man the news named as Shigaraki Tomura.

He was part of this group that Stain joined, and Spinner wondered if maybe, like Stain, he wasn’t just a Villain. Like Stain, he was out to change the world.

-

In the origin story of Spinner, Villain, would be the cup of tea that made a crucial decision for him.

His landlord’s apartment was ten times the size of his tiny one-room apartment, and Spinner felt almost agoraphobic sitting in her living room. This was a proper home, well cared for, housing a family. The last time Spinner had even spoken to a blood relative of his was years ago. He was intruding.

But the landlord had done a surprise inspection while he was at work, and she was concerned about the mold on his ceiling. In his zeal over Stain, Spinner had completely forgotten about dealing with that. Now he got to do a redux of the talk from a few days ago, and he had a feeling this might go even worse.

He never would find out if that was true, nor would he find out what would have been done about the mold. A few words into the small talk that preceded the actual conversation, his landlord’s young son had tried to be helpful and brought tea for both his mom and Spinner. Kid was probably only in elementary school, but so polite. Too much so.

Spinner watched as his landlord shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes flickering back and forth from the cup of tea set in front of Spinner, and Spinner himself.

It felt unbearably hot and suffocating in the room.

(Once, a cousin told Spinner that regardless of how much DNA would prove they were human, they weren’t. Not really, not in practice, not to the people they live among. They looked like lizards, so they’d be treated like lizards. Like animals, and you wouldn’t feed your pet using a bowl you would use, right? It’ll be dirty, no matter how much you washed it. That’s why there’s food bowls specifically for your dog, cat, whatever.)

It was much too late to for her to take back the drink without seeming astonishingly rude. Maybe Spinner should help her save face and decline the tea, have the kid take it away. Maybe he can use this as leverage for the mold problem. Maybe--

--he shouldn’t have to put up with this. There were people out there right now, ready to face down Heroes and police and society, ready to create change, ready to take their lives and fate into their hands and shape it to their liking. Stain hadn’t allow himself to be trampled down.

Spinner shouldn’t either.

That was when he stood up and left without a word.

-

The leader was different than what Spinner expected.

In the small private bar that the broker had taken him to, Shigaraki Tomura sat on one of the stools, young and bone-thin, dressed so plainly in simple black shirt and pants. Not quite the criminal mastermind Spinner imagined. Yet all attention in the room was held by him, and he wielded that authority with ease.

“Shuichi Iguchi… Spinner.” Shigaraki spoke and Spinner anticipated each word. “Our fight is for all the right reasons, but the world is going to hate us for it. Condemn us. Try to destroy us. We’ll have to return in kind. We’ll have get our hands dirty, we’ll have to sacrifice a lot.”

Shigaraki shifted his head, and suddenly all Spinner could focus on was that one red eye looking through the fingers of the severed hand on his face, filled with all the same rage and desire and intensity that Stain had. Its gaze pierce through Spinner, making him wince as though he was physically cut.  

Hatred was nothing new to him, though, and he had nothing else in this world than this newfound will. He’d do anything, all for Stain. All for his new comrades. All this, Spinner said out loud.

Shigaraki grinned at him, a smile so wide and vicious and-- happy, that Spinner felt his own face mirror that excitement.

“Welcome to the League of Villains.”

-

So my Spinner goes from a nervous mild-mannered guy trying to live a life, to a terrorist ready to murder kids in like three short days. I should figure out his characterization better next time lol

[littlecountrymouse]

This is a prompt fill for @iammine-notyours for "Is that my shirt?" I'm also writing your other one, darling!

Hit me up with any prompts from the list, guys, I'm always keen :)

Adrian is pretty sure it’s normal that their stuff is so intermingled that there’s no way to really tell who owned what in the first place. After all, they’ve been together for nearly seventeen years in some way or another, either best friends or lovers or something in between.

Even with the four heart wrenching break-ups and nearly three years in prison between them, it never occured to Adrian to return any of Deran’s stuff, and he doubts it ever crossed Deran’s mind to give back any of his. That doesn't mean they're not both possessive and petty as fuck when it comes down it though. So now that they’re unpacking boxes of things they’ve claimed as their own over the years, it’s not surprising at all that they've mostly dissolved into grumbling about ‘stolen’ items.

And right now, Adrian is pretty sure Deran is slipping into a button-down that once belonged to Adrian even though he doesn’t remember owning it, given that it’s at least one size too big for Deran, but it’s far too small for Craig. He stares critically at it for a minute while he starts stacking their collection of games onto a shelf, trying to figure out if he’s just being paranoid after finding an entire bag’s worth of his clothes in Deran’s collection, but no. That’s his shirt. It just ‘walked’ all of three days after he’d bought it nearly five years ago.

Still, he’ll see if Deran admits it before he outright accuses him of stealing.

"Is that my shirt?”

Deran glances up at him, then down at his chest. “Um. Maybe?” He scrubs his hand through his hair, and if that wasn’t a good enough indicator, the blush rising on his cheeks would be.

“It is!” Adrian exclaims, picking up an empty dvd case and throwing it at him. “That thing was like fifty bucks, you asshole! I don’t think I even got to wear it!”

Deran ducks, then throws a shoe back at him, and it dissolves quickly into a wrestling match that somehow involves their clothing going in every direction, and sure, Adrian was hoping to actually get the house finished off before they had sex, but well, it's them. Clearly, his brain turns off at the sight of a naked, willing Deran, and his motivation doesn’t stand a chance, it never has.

After, when they’re sprawled on the couch, still-naked and sweating, Adrian tugs the abandoned button-down off the ground and flicks it over Deran’s chest, trying to cover acres of tanned, muscled skin.

For his part, Deran barely manages to roll his head back to blink at him, blue eyes dazed and barely able to murmur questioningly. Adrian smiles softly down at him, his fingers trailing down over the exposed skin of his shoulder. “Don’t want you getting cold, man.”

And yeah, that’s a lot of it, because Deran runs lizard-cold half the time and fire-hot the rest, but really? Adrian just likes seeing him in his clothes, and the bitching he throws up is the only way he can say that without making the contrary asshole stop.

[standuphippy]

2018 Favorite Shows

This year I continued my effort to catch a few bands that I’ve liked for years but never got around to seeing and it was very rewarding. These shows included Saint Etienne, Protomartyr, Agnes Obel, The Love Language,  Erasure, Johnny Marr, The The, and The Dickies.

Not everyone comes to Los Angeles on a regular basis so I was thrilled to finally catch Young Galaxy, Dawn Landes, Retirement Party, Samantha Crain, and Sidney Gish.

It’s also worth mentioning that I saw a lot of great openers this year: bands I checked out because they happened to be on the bill and they turned out to be great. Weaves, Thin Lips, Petal, And the Kids, Jess Cornelius, Ed Harcourt (never miss the opening act at an Afghan Whigs show!), and awakebutstillinbed all belong in this category. But the following list is of the shows that were really special to me, in no particular order after The Jesus Lizard.

The Jesus Lizard, Sept. 29, Crystal Ballroom, Portland OR “Happy Birthday, Sabina.” Seeing The Jesus Lizard has always been an incredible experience but the reunion shows they’ve played over the past year were excellent even by their standards. The crowds came with high expectations: you could feel the excitement in the air before the band set foot on stage. (I’ve never had so many strangers strike up a conversation the way they do at TJL shows.) I’ve loved this band from the moment I heard them (thanks, Dad). I saw them play many times when I was in college. They were a standard by which I measured any other rock band. I’ve seen a lot of live music in the 25 years since I first saw them. They are still the standard. They never disappoint. It’s hard for me to articulate my feelings without hyperbole because it’s hard for me to believe that I’ve found a band that’s so consistently rewarding. In Portland, there was a profound synchronicity between the audience and the band. They delivered an epic set that included both “One Evening” and “Lady Shoes,” while the audience did the Dudley dance for half the duration of its namesake song, then staged a clap-a-long during “Fly on the Wall.” They keep getting better and no one else comes close. 

Fever Ray, May 25, Hollywood Palladium, Los Angeles, CA One of the great debts I’ll always owe Pitchfork is that they introduced me to The Knife. Not only the band's music, but in 2006 they clued me in to the band’s 4-show U.S. tour with a front page exclaiming “THE KNIFE IS COMING”.  On that tour, and the first Fever Ray tour three years later, Karin Dreijer hid in the shadows, obscured by darkness and makeup. The Knife had changed their approach by the time they hit the road in 2014, and it was a wild technicolor spectacle for people who wanted more aerobics in their dance party. There were so many performers onstage that it wasn’t always clear who was singing. Dreijer was never more out in front than on this Fever Ray tour, supporting the excellent 2017 release, Plunge. Flanked by backup performers, she seemed jubilant throughout the entire performance. Remarkably, all of the tracks from Fever Ray’s subdued 2009 debut fit neatly next to the new material. The version of the band that was onstage made everything in the catalog uniquely their own. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to last. Dreijer cancelled the second half of the tour citing “general anxiety and panic attacks.”  It’s a shame because this Fever Ray show was her best yet. Few artists reinvent their art the way Dreijer does. hopefully she’ll be ready to hit the road again in the future.

Let’s Eat Grandma, Sept. 4, Moroccan Lounge, Los Angeles, CA Every once in a while there’s a show where everyone knows something truly remarkable is happening. The audience is ecstatic and the band shares these glances where you know it’s special for them too. This was one of those shows.  Let’s Eat Grandma released one of the best records of the year and delivered a performance to match.

The Dickies, Sept. 8, Whisky A Go Go, Los Angeles, CA I finally saw them after 30 years of fandom and they lived up to my high hopes. They played most of their greatest hits circa 1989′s “Great Dictations”. No “Killer Klowns from Outer Space” or “If Stuart Could Talk,” but a great set nonetheless. Their cover of “Paranoid” is a steamroller live and was definitely a highlight until the woman next to me was knocked down by an errant mosher and one of her pinwheeling arms hit me right in the balls.

I saw them again a few days ago on a bill with Mac Sabbath, PPL MVR, and Captured! By Robots and they played “If Stuart Could Talk”. I guess if you’re on bill with that many high-concept acts it’s time to break out the arms-length penis puppet.

Poster Children, Sept. 18, Hotel Café, Los Angeles, CA Poster Children should be huge. Their first three records, Flower Plower, Daisychain Reaction, and Tool of the Man, are classics, and their latest, Grand Bargain!, was one of my favorite records of the year. Their Los Angeles tour stop was at Hotel Café, a small club known for lighter fare. Upon seeing the tables in front of the stage, Rose asked, “You guys know what kind of music we play, right?” The set was a mix of classics and cuts from Grand Bargain! and I lost my mind when they played “Dangerous Life” in the encore set.

Samantha Crain, Dec. 13, The Echo, Los Angeles, CA An artist I’ve waited a (relatively) long time to see and she was worth the wait. I loved last year’s “You Had Me at Goodbye” and it turns out she has a deep and excellent catalog as well. The Echo wasn’t crowded and there was no one else in my line of sight so it felt very intimate. My only complaint was that she was opening for another act; I would have loved a set that was twice as long.

Basia Bulat, Feb. 23, Bootleg Bar, Los Angeles, CA I’ve loved her music for 10 years and I’ve tried to see every show she’s played in Los Angeles. It’s a quest that’s included venues such as Old Style Guitar Shop, It’s a School Night at Bardot, and even a Bob Odenkirk comedy revue at Largo. I’ve seen her at Hotel Cafe, The Echo, and The Bootleg (3 times). I’m trying to show you what my commitment level is so you can fully understand how embarrassing the following story is to me: The show last February was a gig that she performed while she was in town recording her new album. She effortlessly translated her work for a solo performance where she alternated between guitar and piano. As always, she sounded amazing. The piano was pushed up against the stage, so when she played it, she was only a few feet away from where I was standing. She asked if anyone had heard her most recent record, “Good Advice.” We had. The audience seemed very enthusiastic: before the show I overheard people recounting other shows of hers that they’d attended, one couple had opened for her many years ago, etc. “Well, sing along!” she enthused. “Good Advice” has a bridge where there is a back and forth vocal. The lines are repeated and slightly offset, so that if one person was singing, she’d have to clip the outgoing line to get to the next one, and there are about six of these call and response couplets in that part of the song. I knew this is the part of the song she was talking about. When she got there, I was feeling pretty confident that we were all gonna nail this and it was going to be a fucking magical communion between us, her longtime fans. She hit the first one, and sang “Any sense I had at all is gone,” and I, anticipating being part of a chorus, sang the echo line. Over the course of the five seconds it took to recite the line, I realized that I was the only one singing and everyone was listening. I could feel people turning towards me. Basia Bulat was saying, “Yes, yes, yes!” and smiling as she played. I was shaken and missed the next cue. Now the pressure was on and there was no way I was going to be able to rejoin and not mess up, so I stayed silent. I stood next to her in shame, knowing that every line I didn’t jump in on made the situation increasingly awkward. Basia Bulat shrugged and did the rest of the lines herself.

I humiliated myself in front of an artist that I’ve long admired, but it was still one of my favorite shows of the year, because she’s brilliant. The reason I go to every show I can is that she always seems like she’s about to have some greater degree of success. If there are any casual observers in the audience when she starts, there are only fans when she walks off the stage. I still believe that it’s only a matter of time before she’s playing in a theater or a place with a greater separation between the artist and the crowd, so I'm going to continue to catch all the shows that I can. I’ll just try to do a better job of reading the room.  

The Breeders, April 7, Observatory, Santa Ana, CA The last time I saw The Breeders they sucked but they put out such a great album (All Nerve is easily one of the year’s best) that I had to see this show. I’m glad I went because they was amazing. They have so many great songs that a live set is an embarrassment of riches. They even played “Gigantic.” There was a woman standing next to me for the duration of the show and we chatted while The Breeders were setting up. Once they started playing, she would turn to me and say something I couldn’t hear and I would smile and nod and she would issue this crazy laugh. So The Breeders were great but after every song I looked into this mass that was all eyes and teeth and hair in blue light. She looked like Sheryl Lee in Fire Walk With Me and it was terrifying.

Kyle Craft, March 4, Moroccan Lounge, Los Angeles, CA

I have bad luck seeing Kyle Craft in that he’s played here fairly frequently and it rarely works out that I can attend. I’ve seen him twice, once a few years ago when he was on tour for his debut album Dolls of Highland and then this year when he was supporting his follow up, Full Circle Nightmare. Both shows were excellent. He’s got a great band and they’ll give you a full on rock show. Craft is  one of those artists that you should see when you can, not only because he’s a great performer, but because his muse moves quickly. His first release was a double album; he played it almost in it’s entirety the first time I saw him. When he came back for this show, he played one song from it.

Lydia Loveless, June 10, Casbah, San Diego, CA Lydia Loveless, June 11, Troubadour, Los Angeles, CA

My daughter had a dance recital on the 10th and when it was over I dropped her and my wife off and tried to break the land speed record to get to San Diego in time to see Lydia Loveless. I arrived just as she started her first song. Forty minutes later, I jumped in the car and drove back to Los Angeles, as I had to work early the next day. It was worth it because although Lydia Loveless has recorded many exceptional cover songs, I’ve never heard her play one live, and at this show she performed her cover of Justin Bieber’s “Sorry.” These shows were solo acoustic performances, and she was opening for Justin Townes Earle. She doesn’t play on the West Coast very often, so I always try to catch whatever I can. I love her records and she’s fantastic live. These shows were excellent but shows with her band are unbelievable.

Belly, August 9, Teragram Ballroom, Los Angeles, CA

I had written Belly off as a live band, I was disappointed with a show that I’d seen two years previous. I liked their new album, Dove, and since I had the night off I figured I should check this show out. I’m glad that I did because it was the best Belly show I’ve ever seen (twice in 1993 and once in 2016).

Loma, April 8, Bootleg Bar, Los Angeles, CA

Silence is respect in Los Angeles, and Loma got a lot of it. Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) Emily Cross and Dan Duszynski (both of Cross Record) crafted this delicate record and as captivating as it is, I feel as though I didn’t truly appreciate it until I saw this show. Who knows if the three of them will ever make another record together. See what you can when you can.

[readfelice-blog]

moominland chronicles elf . its not you, its me.

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good.

It's late today, well i mean there is no set time, but im slow, on this gorgeous early autumnal sunday, i dozed till 15h, getting up intermittently to empty my washing machine, tug at my hair (vinegar makes it sticky? I'm trying to find the perfect all natural solution to shampoo because I’m no poo now : https://www.nopoomethod.com , in fact i’m practising a very loose version of alchemy in my house, trying to find drinks that energise but don't make me anxious, cleaning solutions for my body and for my house that bewitch the nostrils and incinerate grease / kalk. Essentially I’m just concocting weird stuff, hunched over materials collected around the city, boiling my hell broths in ikea pans, surrounded by recycled jars).....

Lets press on…...

Yes, my morning, my intro to the day, I was up so late because I was up last night so late, till 4am, painting and listening to sweet feminine soundwaves in my kitchen, getting it done in my way, step by step. Because now I’m working a 5 day week again, my days are 3 hours long, 5 at a push, 6 in the most extreme cases, so now I’m back to burrowing out time where i can find it, because now i have my teeth dug in to a big project, a big project that will be realized, for the first time since may May last year.

May last year:

I killed myself, artistically, me artistically is the majority of me.

My whole life has been sewn into my practise, my method, my way of understanding and redistributing everything that comes into my life, and May last year I moved out of the house I shared with my ex husband , moon, and into a shared flat, to embark on a restorative journey. Me and moon were not doing well in our little cramped caravan, we were at each other's throats incessantly, already broken up, him with a new partner, me in full swing of frantic madness, fuelled by bottomless bottles of booze.

Day in day out in my studio, I slowly turned my 450sq ft basement into a mermaids cave, drunk on 8% cider, night after night, sticking black bin liners to the walls with double sided tape, hanging spirals of bubblewave to the ceiling, spray painting floor tiles, screaming at the camera on my iphone half naked, making terrifying life size dolls and cry singing to myself, emphatically paranoid and fractured, writing letters to a man I’d never met who I thought could save me. It was my last great project, I created a film I can never show my parents and documented myself throwing my life away, in my wedding dress, shadowed by the virgin: a wreckage, a car crash, a lot of footage I haven’t been able to edit because I haven’t got the equipment to do so.

It's all stored on a clunky hard drive bundled up with the moon, he saved it for me, without him I would of lost it because my laptop, his laptop, broke in the middle of me editing it and since then its been untouched. I’m afraid the hours of video that follow me dancing around everything i’d ever owned up until that point, rigorously chucking it all in more black bin liners. When I can find a place to edit everything and the capacity in my mind, then I can piece it back together and show it to the world.

Since May last year, I have totally uprooted my life, moved out of London, had a very strange, sometimes beautiful, sometimes harrowing time with my family in Devon, rolled through Turin, Cork, Helsinki, chasing the man I’ve never met, blocking the man I’ve never met at the behest of my friend in Cork, defending and understanding my art more deeply in Helsinki, and finding Tove Jansson. Her bronze bust on the door of the studio she used to hold, her gorgeous expanding black and white prints in the mumin cafe that towered in the sky under artificial light, her room in the museum of Modern Art, her soul in the botanical gardens amongst the families having lunch together.

It's been a glorious invigorating illuminating intrepid journey (I’ve been writing a hip hop song recently, can you tell?) but its not been anything monumental in terms of creation and since May last year is the longest time I have gone without a major project in my life, for possibly my entire adult life, bar being at uni, where conversely I was more orientated towards squat parties than art making.

So here I sit now, with a great big juicy exciting idea inflated in a giant balloon, ready to be released into the atmosphere, the only snag is that it needs to be manifested into real material, which means a lot of work, and so, I find myself back in a place I’d forgotten about.

That's the very good thing about having such a long break, is now I can totally observe what happens to me when I’m in this phase: it’s quite extreme from a fledgling perspective.

Not fueled by booze this time, but instead concocting things to give me a buzz that I can buy in the supermarket (don’t drink to much valerian, it gives you a bad tummy, im not drowsy or euphoric I just feel sick from the after affects and rancid smell) and developing my cleaning routine to be the most streamlined and creative that it can be, to give my art sustenance.

But if I could I would lock myself away from the world in a cabin far up on a mountain and painfully draw out everything in a more concentrated form, the cleaning is fine for now but it's hard to concentrate when I have to go to peoples houses and deal with their kalk as well, it might be one of the factors in why the whole thing is so stressful, but I have the suspicion that it will always be stressful, even if I ever get the luxury to entirely dedicate my day to working on my art.

The big thing I’m noticing is incessant, almost intolerable paranoia, that someone will steal my idea and present it to the world before I’m done. I notice it now and then I turn and look at my past and see its infected traces throughout my history, it's a big driving force in getting the work finished and I’m starting to see that I cannot share or talk about what I’m doing when I’m in the midst of it, but all i want to do is share and talk about it, hence why that cabin would be a better place than a city I’m not fully established in.

I know it’s unreasonable, untrusting, maybe even unkind of me, to believe that someone would steal something like this from me. I know that sharing ideas is healthy and loving and makes the world go round, but this paranoia is totally immovable and so I just accept it and try to satiate it, hoping by feeding it homemade remedies that it won’t make my life worse.

But these big idea’s, they come upon me, I don’t choose them, all the strands of my life and experimentation ferment slowly and then one day I wake up and I know what I have to do, then as I start to do it it grows and morphs, develops, things come and go from my wall, until I have reduced and finelined the parameters of a project, that's where I am now, all the mental groundwork is laid, its just the creation that's left, I’m now half way through the musical aspect of it but not halfway through the visual and I need to amp up, because it must be done by November the second, so I can take it to Turin with me, so I can deposit it at the gates of hell, so I can complete a cycle, so I can be free to make blue music and who knows what, maybe try something formless, kind and organic - that's not for me to know yet though.

Once it rears its great dense head, I am in its power, I am in the throng of obeying my art and that's a lonely place to be. It's lonely being an artist, some of us are collaborative and collective and have communities, but I’m not among those right now, this project, lets just call it by its name for here in : восем acht ocho : is not something I can share and make with others, it is a process of me picking up the pieces of my life, of giving praise to the moon, who has saved me and supported me so many times. I must give praise to him finally so I can move on and give praise to myself.

So I sit in my house and dutifully work back and forth between paint and ableton, singing and faux performing in my hallway in between, performing to my very tolerant invisible neighbours that must think I’m some kind of banshee from a deep buried part of the world. I sit in my house alone, I reject all the invitations extended to me, I retract from the life I am building to some extent and just hope the friends I have been finding will be understanding, though it's hard to explain to someone that I can’t come because of something I am choosing to do myself. It's not work related in terms of my bread and butter, Its not health related, I’m not resting, I guess a lot of people won’t understand which is perhaps why I feel compelled to try and somehow explain myself in this blog today.

I must make this work, it is not a choice, I am in my house alone because this idea has bound me up and demands my care and attention, because for the first time in over a year I can make work again and make it with diligence, create something on a large scale. It means that Berlin is working, this is the change I was looking for, because I feel like I have a future again, whilst the 100’s of drawings, paintings, books, trinkets from my life decay in some junk yard close to London, I have the space to bring new art into the world. It’s really a glorious turning point in my life so far.

I am still terrified that it will all collapse in on me at any time, but there are ways of fighting this paranoia, careful planning, creative problem solving, and probably just not talking about the details of what I am doing anymore until it is finished.

Phew, nothing enlightening this week, more of an attempt to bridge the gap between myself and the life that flows around me. I’m now off to edit my most current track on ableton then do some line work and probably make up some mixes of citric acid / bicarbonate of soda cleaner for the week ahead.

We just have to do what we must, and be grateful when we know what it is we must do.

[groovygardenelixir]

Dream 3/17

My dream started with me looking through my stuff trying to find a giant fish tank that I had from a dream a long time ago. I was getting worried because I knew I hadn’t fed my lizards and fish that were inside it in forever (because the dream was so long ago). My mom was there and she told me I haven’t had that fish tank in years.. I got so frustrated with not being able to find it, I was asking my mom aggressively if she had thrown it away, or if she just didn't know where it was?? Then I found a box of clothes in my dad’s room that had been in my room the day before, and I got paranoid that someone had been going through my house and moving things around.

Not sure how it transitioned into my next dream, but here is the next part:

I was on a flight where nobody knew where we were going. I was with a lot of people from my friend group and from high school that I don’t talk about anymore. As we were landing, we could see that we were landing into a forest, but when we got out of the plane, there was a whole town where the trees just were. In my mind, I pictured how it used to be with the trees, and somehow realized that we had time traveled. We were way in the future. There were a bunch of adults waiting for us up on the balcony of one of the hotel buildings. The hotel looked more like an old European boarding school. I got a creepy, eerie, feeling from the adults that were waving to us. Somehow I knew that they were not to be trusted.

I couldn’t figure out what room I would be in, and couldn't find any of my money... I also realized that in this future, it was as if we went into the past and that black/white roles were reversed. It wasn’t so far into the past that white people didn’t have their freedom, but they were definitely looked down upon as sub-human and less than other people. I asked my black friend to help me because I wasn’t allowed to directly talk to the adults myself, because I’m white. We got our room orders, and for some reason my sister was listed in a room with a bunch of boys from my high school. Now for some reason the numbers 213 kept coming up, and there was a short period in the dream where there was a girl who thought she was a witch, telling us how much she’s been seeing the numbers 213 everywhere, and she was showing us with a magnifying glass how the numbers 213 were in different things, like a book and some mail.

From there, we went past an old man who was my friend and his little brother’s uncle, who almost drove them over. My friend was so confused, shouting “uncle its me!!” but the uncle’s eyes were glazed over and he looked as if he was under some spell, or like he was something else disguising himself as my friend’s uncle. We walked up the stairs to this corridor type of place and that’s where it got really weird. I can’t really remember the specific order of the events, but this place we came to was really messed up. They had all of the kids in separated rooms, like jail cells. Each person would have to decide between two different disgusting things to do for the day. One person I saw had to eat this huge, white, flat thing, that looked like flattened out intestines. I feel like this part had something to do with the seven deadly sins or something, but I have no idea. It was kind of like a scene from one of the SAW movies.

Again, I’m not really sure how this dream moved into the next, but here it is:

I was walking along a shopping center and one of my friends asked me to do her makeup, which I suck at makeup but I tried it out anyways! And then she told me that our double date bailed on us. I had no idea that I was supposed to go on a date, and I also have a boyfriend, so I was confused. I told her that it was okay because I don’t think my boyfriend would have been okay with that anyways. Then she tells me that my boyfriend actually set the date up?? I was super confused at this point. She then showed me mean texts from the boy that I was supposed to go on the date with that were sent to my boyfriend, and said that me going on the date was some sort of getting back at the boy for those texts? The gist of the texts were that this guy was upset with my boyfriend for never having to pay any bills, and that this guy has had to pay a bunch of bills ever since he got out of high school, and that he has to cook his own bacon everyday. So for some reason these texts really piss me off that someone would get all angry towards my boyfriend because he has it easier than this guy? 

So I find the guy at the shopping area, (which by the way, is dark and seems like a movie scene from a New Orleans crime show, with it being very damp, with water dripping from random places) and I walk straight up to him and punch him in the face. We end up fighting, but he’s mainly just trying to dodge my hits, and I’m yelling at him for the texts sent to my boyfriend, telling him that he doesn't have to be upset at him for not having to pay bills, and that we make scrambled eggs sometimes, so he’s not the only one making his own breakfast??

Then I have to also fight his uncle? Idk

Afterwards, I find my boyfriend who is cracking up with one of my friends and I’m like “wow great date you set me up on??”

Transition into the next part:

Some guy in all purple is running past us, screaming that someone’s coming for him, followed by another guy that looks like maybe he's holding a gun? He throws the gun?? at the first guy and it turns into a big scene. I end up staying far away from the action, and start to call the police, when the guy with the gun starts walking around to all the people watching, threatening them. I lay on the ground to hide while my phone is still calling. On the other line, I hear a lady answer asking me questions I can’t really hear. I tell her that I need help and that someone has a gun. She asks me “what kind of fur is on his belly?” I was like “what?? I need help, there’s a man with a  gun” and she keeps asking me questions about cat grooming until I look at my phone and realize I dialed “92cat22″ which apparently called the cat groomer?? So then I try to redial 911, but now the guy with the gun is next to me, and I don’t want him to know I’m dialing 911, so I try to make my phone as quiet as possible and try to lay as still as possible, so that I don’t raise any alarms in his head.

And thats all I remember.

[autumn-in-phandom]

A review of "How WHITE is Dan?!- DNA TEST RESULTS"

I was riding in the car on the way to the store when I heard a familiar alert coming from my phone. I wondered aloud “Ooo is that Dan?” He was due to have a video out today or tomorrow, but it could be one of the few other channels I’m subscribed to. I’ve been psyched out before. I opened my phone and yes it was Dan and what was more, the word DNA was there. “They were right!” Those psychic IDB members with their “strong feelings” were right. 

I for one didn’t think Dan would make this video. Mainly because he said so himself during a liveshow in the spring, shortly after Phil had posted his. He had admitted to taking the test as well, but the results were so vague and he was disappointed. I could relate, having bought DNA kits for my parents and getting very broad results, particularly for my mother’s side, which we wanted to know more about. 

However, one shouldn’t take Daniel Howell at his word. He could be lying, or in this case he might just change his mind with the seasons. He wasn’t feeling it back then, but there was a hint in his last solo liveshow that he was thinking about ancestry again. The chat asked about “the grandma tweet” and he pulled up the photo of someone’s distant relative who had a strikingly similar face to his. Someone said it could be his great-grandmother, after all his own grandma was adopted. So reasonably, someone on IDB predicted that Dan would work this photo into his DNA video. After all Dan often sits on ideas for videos and then decides to make them when he feels the “the time is right” (or the topic is relevant). 

Dan did indeed choose to make this video now for a specific reason, and while the photo may have inspired him, it didn’t make an appearance or get a mention. Apparently the driving force behind this video was current events. Current events that some fans were disappointed that Dan and Phil had not mentioned. The heated protests in Charlottesville, Virginia were mentioned in the first eight seconds: 

“Hello Internet, in these times when apparently (camera zooms in on his lips) *some people* find it difficult to tell the difference between protesting racism and *racism*, I thought it would be relevant and mildly interesting to make a video about the shared genetic history of all humans by finding out *the origins of my ancestors*.“ (Cue the soft grey filter with fake lens flares, zen music and calm hand movements from Daniel). 

I was immediately intrigued, but a bit skeptical. How was a video entitled "How WHITE is Dan?!” going to positively address racism? Especially knowing that his results were boring, so probably not that diverse. Well, he did it by following through on his topic sentence and actually showing the shared genetic history of all humans through maps of human migration. He also did some historic research into his small percentage of West African DNA. Of course the little sign in the background reading ‘AYY FUCK NAZIS’ and his black shirt with red Cyrillic letters that translate to “equality” were nice aesthetic touches. 

Mind you, the actual factual human migration information comes later in the video. First we have sarcastic philosophical Dan waffling on about lizard people on Pangea slowly drifting apart “metaphorically and physically, until the inevitable nuclear apocalypse blows our planet into tiny chunks floating infinitely into the abyss of space” with a starry falling through space effect. Woah there nihilistic Dan, stay with us. 

It’s okay, there is a quick jump cut that changes the tone immediately. It’s a mention of Phil and his DNA video, complete with a clip of “Science!Phil”. What’s more, Dan says that Phil ordered the DNA test kit for him. Perhaps, it’s just to set up his own reluctance, as he goes on to do just that. For some of us, the idea of Phil ordering DNA testing for both of them (even if it is to use in a video) paints a pretty domestic picture. Though in Phil’s video he says he was given his for free by a friend of the family who is a doctor, thinking it would make a cool video. Perhaps this is why neither of their videos seem to be sponsored by the DNA testing company, 23andMe. Or are they?

Cue relatable slightly paranoid Dan with some sharp humor about “laboratories” and being cloned and replaced “by a compliant artificial intelligence” by Mark Zuckerberg (thanks for knowing the correct spelling of that iPad) or “Zuck”, with a Stephen Hawking like voice saying “I’m coming for you Danny”. Dan of course gave a fake name for his DNA profile (as did Phil), but kept his date of birth. However he admits there isn’t really any point in trying to protect his identity on the internet. Okay, John Johnson. 

“Are you ready! Am I ready? I have no idea what to expect to be honest.” Here’s the part where I have to suspend my disbelief and just accept that Dan pretending to react to these results as if he didn’t view them several months ago does make for a better video. Just like Dan pretending to play Bubble Bobble for the first time on the gaming channel in 2016, when in reality he tweeted about reaching level 100 with Phil back in 2009, did result in a very sweet gaming video. 

 Add a being related to a giraffe joke to the lizard one. I’m not sure if this is really helping the “one human race” thing, but it’s a pretty harmless joke. “Wow. Looking pretty white. That is one blue circle there, isn’t it JJ?” (the blue being European ancestry). Dan is 98.2% European and he jokes that this is the end of the video only a minute and half in. 

Dan drags his ancestors for “literally” sticking to four countries (Britain, Ireland, France and Germany) when in reality those results are lumping Britain and Ireland together because they share so much common DNA, the same for French and German. He is also ignoring that 33.8% of his Northwest European genetics is broadly undefined and he hasn’t gotten to the Southern European, Scandinavian or West African parts yet. But I still found “really got out there and saw the world” quite funny. “Okay someone saw the sun at least” was a good one, though I wish he would have addressed his ability to tan darkly in this video, perhaps in the fair skin section. More on that below. 

More relatable humor about not wanting to hike or get on a boat gets worked in to Dan finding out that he is not the least bit Asian or American. I vaguely recall a rumor about him being part Asian, let’s lay one that to rest. And I remember him hoping years ago that he might be part Native American because his grandma was adopted, but I found that extremely unlikely. Probably just a bit of wishful thinking perhaps brought on by being Team Jacob. 

Now here is the part that interests me the most. On the Ancestry DNA test I gave to my parents, 1.8% was considered a “trace amount”, but in this 23andMe service they give a specific timeline for when each genetic group cropped up and the West African and Scandinavian both span from the late 1700s to mid 1800s, not that long ago. Dan concludes that “a ‘Scandi’ and a West African got it together” (insert graphic of the two countries coming together with a smooching sound effect). I’m not sure if that timeline is definitively saying they were a couple, but Dan’s Wikipedia research supports it and it is an interesting bit of history. 

Segue into a brief farming family reunion story. 400 cousins, I’m sure. Shift to black and white and cue the unexplained mysteries music for Dan’s adopted grandmother mention. Dan “feels like there’s some epic adventure story there for another time”. Sign me the frick up! In fact please just bring your grandma onto one of your YouTube videos. She has always been the one Dan has been most comfortable talking about and even sharing pictures of. (Oh 'helo ther’ unflattering selfie from the Tinder spon on Dan’s computer). 

I appreciate Dan showing the Haplogroup migrations of his paternal line, but in true Dan fashion it included commentary about “presumably wrestling mammoths and getting frozen or something” in Asia and “then buggered off to Europe to get bitten by a rat or something”. “And consistently had sex for thousands of years. Well done ancestors (Dan applauds) truly incredible story. Lord of the Rings. Ten out of ten. Would read again.” Lovely sarcastic Dan. 

 And as he hypes up “the fun stuff”, “weird things about your personality, health and biology”, and “intimate specific information” that he probably shouldn’t share with the Internet”, but he will because he’s “just a piece of meat”, I get hit with a mid video ad of Gwen Stefani applying mascara, because the cheeky bastard made this exactly ten minutes and one second long. (To be fair Phil did the same thing recently). 

Dan has 300 Neanderthal variants, more than 82% of their customers. This is the same percentage as Phil, who talked about his head and brow shape and nasal chambers, but Dan uses this to relate to his “dank cave” dwelling habits (never opening the curtains of his bedroom). Based on his genetics, Dan is not likely to be a deep sleeper. “As I always say, why bother sleeping when you can stay awake thinking about stuff that makes you anxious. Right! Woo!” Dan addressing his mental health with humor, is always appreciated. I can actually see the power athlete possibility. He could be a big strong guy, but “wasted potential” and all that. (Personally my lazy self recoils at the idea of people dedicating so much of their time to training up their bodies to be these perfect machines, but hopeful D&P are spending some time at the gym for their general health.) “Looking at memes and talking about myself” is a great self-aware one liner. 

 Alright “cheek dimples”! Flop. What does this test know anyway? Stop referring to them as a deformity Dan, everyone loves your dimples! Okay I just did a bunch of reading on dimples and I guess they are considered a genetic deformity now a days. However on a social-biological level they may have all sorts of benefits, from being able to read emotions more clearly, to people wanting to procreate with you and not abandoning their cute babies. Dan has also been saying lately that he’s double deformed, but it is actually quite rare to have one side of your cheeks dimpled. (I used to have dimples as a child and all of a sudden they are back, but they are closer to my mouth than my smile lines and may just be from fat. Who knows.) 

 Alright good thing this isn’t a spon, calling the results “garbage”, “pseudoscience” and a “farce” even in jest, might not fly. Dan’s distrust of blonds Tweet is (at least partially) explained. I still think it might also relate to Dream Daddy and it is a mighty coinkidink that it was posted on the one year anniversary of Frank Ocean’s album. Promos all around? We just need to accept that Dan is a multilayered creature we will never fully understand. My husband will appreciate being compared to a unicorn though. 

Dan’s pain kink and weird enjoyment of the dentist makes a resurgence! Please make a full video out of this Dan. We promise not to shame… much. “Scrape me Dad-”. Interestingly enough Phil has an average sensitivity pain but thought it would be higher, hates having his gums scraped and implied his dentist might be a sadist. 

Dramatic build up and disclaimer for genetic health and increased risk of disease section. Feeling very relieved for the low risk of Altzheimers after reading that tear jerking dementia phanfic the other day (though it was Phil with the disease and I don’t think he mentioned it in his video). Dan was clearly worked up as well. He rests his face in his palm and is visibly pink and blotchy. 

He balances the seriousness with an over the top dramatic reaction to being a carrier for red hair, complete with a black and white fake sobbing scene. I’ll admit I found his pause at “So you’re telling me that there’s a chance that I could have children— born with red hair” a bit distracting, though I’m sure it wasn’t mean that way. “There was no disclaimer for this one.” Ha. I case you didn’t know he’s just joking “you beautiful sunset heads, rub those freckles all over me.” Dan has made his love of ginger people quite clear in the past and this tends to start a discourse about Phil’s natural hair color. 

I’ll weigh in on this. Phil was clearly ginger as a young child, just as Dan was blond when he was little. Both of their hair darkened quite a bit as they grew up, each becoming increasingly more brown. It’s harder to tell with Phil because he has denied his natural hair color for so long and seemingly makes up things about old photographs. Did he actually dye his hair before his first day of secondary school? Perhaps it was a bit of bleach that brighten it up and brought out the yellow/orange tones. In Phil’s Tinder spon he did admit to his hair getting a bit ginger during the summer. However by the time of his graduation, early university years and his appearance on 'The Weakest Link’ he had light-medium brown hair that I have a hard time considering a shade of auburn. You might call it nutmeg, but not cinnamon. I have medium auburn hair that has dulled with age, but does get more copper in the sun. But I don’t think Phil can be considered ginger anymore, especially as he chooses not to embrace it, so Dan’s love of ginger people seems completely separate from his fondness for Phil (except perhaps the freckles). 

Moving on to skin pigmentation and the title of his video, “How white is Dan Howell?” He laughs at his genetically light skin. 39% Very fair, 32% Moderately fair and “at most 25% Light beige” and acknowledges his privilege. It would have been a great chance to maturely talk about his ability to tan when he was younger, relating to his Southern European and West African ancestry without making problematic 2010/2011 era jokes. However it seems paleness is part of Dan’s branding now (since Phil has clearly turned him into a vampire). Or it’s just the “never go outside”, “cave dwelling” schtick. We’ve all seen your freckles Dan. 

In conclusion he hopes that people took something away from this be it “the possibility that [he] will have a ginger child in the future, that no one believes is [his], or that humanity has so much in common and we shouldn’t be divided by fascism, or that in the near future 'Zuck’ will be able to target ads to us based on our genetic code.” I sure hope it’s the middle one. “Ayy fuck Nazis”. Still, Dan gives us 20 years before society implodes. Finally he turns a joke about exercise into a confession about crying while reading the news. Seriously, well done Mr. Howell. (Nice promo for the casual and intimate liveshows too.) 

This was a great contrast to Phil’s light hearted DNA results video with Science!Phil, CushionStack.com, buff kangaroo attraction, naked mole rats, Buffy Summers alias, “top of the morning to ya”, Phil’s French ear, German elbow, Swedish eyebrow and Sardinian freckle, alien jokes, celebrity haplogroups, testing out his photic sneeze reflex and short-term memory and talking about asparagus urine detection. Bless Phill. I love him, truly. 

Both Dan and Phil’s videos do inspire me to send off the raw data of my parents DNA to a better company that can give me more detailed results. Maybe 23andMe. I’ve heard good things about the Human Genome Project as well. Ancestry DNA was pretty rubbish. 'Zuck’ and his wife should give these boys some money (if they haven’t already).

[silvery-vixen]

The Coldness of Siberian Nights pt2

Warnings: soft swearing, food, underground bunker nothing really bad.  Summary: Basically Patton has something to hide and Logans Log House has an underground laboratory. Word Count: 2015 A good day to meet new People

Patton had proven himself very helpful by figuring out Logan's Size and form perfectly, so in no time the scientist had new clothes to wear in the forest. 

But the odd feeling, that the happy man was hiding something just wouldn't leave him alone.

Maybe he was just paranoid after yesterday's near death experience, but somehow he doubted it.

In fact Logan didn't even feel like he was under the effects of shock anymore. The researcher inside him had taken control over his thoughts and now he was focused on being prepared for his next encounter with wolf and/or slimy creature.  Because he would definitely go out there again and find out what this thing was.

But first he would have to get back home, which was proving itself to be more difficult than one would think. Patton had decided that Logan would stay for lunch/brunch/late second breakfast and apparently there was no possibility to change his mind and get out of this.

So now Logan was sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment right above the store and stared in a mixture of awkwardness and silent awe at the huge mountain of spaghetti on his plate.

Apparently Patton was an excellent cook. But he also was a very chattery person and wouldn't stop talking for the love of it, or asking questions about Logan's life and work.

"You are american then? That's so cool! Me too! I mean what are the odds?"

Logan just smiled at that and slightly nodded. He had already figured out, that Patton had to be from the states. His heavy accent highly indicated so and on the ledge of the fireplace stood various framed fotos, some of which showed a younger Patton with three other men in front of different well known american landmarks.

"But… you're working at the university then? In England?"

"Yes, that is correct. I am currently employed at the University of Exeter."

"Watcha doing all the way up in Russia then?"

The man was constantly grinning, his dark blond curls falling into his light blue eyes, somehow highlighting the freckles on his cheeks.

Logan sighed softly. He really wanted to go home to prepare himself for a field trip into the forest, but he knew that the social thing to do, as well as the best thing for him right now, was to stay and to answer the questions. 

Especially when the guy had cooked lunch for him.

"My research is…"  He tried hard to think of a way to explain what he was doing, so Patton would be able to understand it and finally finished his sentence with: 

"Basically I am examining whether or not the pH value of the ground influences the occurrence of rare fauna."

Patton blinked at him with a confused expression.

"So you… do what exactly?"

Another soft sigh escaped the scientists lips.  He really wanted to be elsewhere right now.  In his lab for example.  Or in the forest with his bear rifle, searching for that slimy thing.

Logan slightly re-adjusted his glasses to collect himself, before answering.

"I collect samples of the ground, different plants and examine the animals in the area."

Again the expression in the store owners eyes seemed to falter a bit into suspiciousness, but before anyone could say anything else, the door opened and a man entered the room.

He was relatively short and seemed light weighted, but the well defined muscles of his arms were visible, even through the baggy fabric of his violet hoodie.

His hair was a chaotic brown and purple mess with bangs that fell deep into his eyes.  He was wearing ripped dark jeans, slightly worn out converse sneakers in black to complete the angsty dark look and had his left hand shoved into the hoodies front pocket. His right hand lifted up to take of his headphones.

"Hey Pat, I'm ba-"

When the newcomers eyes fell on Logan, both of them froze in place.

Logan felt his heart shortly stop, just to beat even faster afterwards, as if it wanted to make up for the lost beat.

The man's eyes, that Logan hadn't been able to see before, because they were covered by hair, were framed with dark eyeshadow, that only enhanced the brightness of his glistening lilac irises.

Lilac irises, that the biochemist had seen before.

Was that even possible? What was going on here? How should he react? What was the logical thing to do? Did logic even matter anymore?

I need answers!

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but Patton reacted quicker.

"Ah you're home early! Dr. Berrie this is Virgil. Virgil, this is Dr. Logan Berrie. A … bio.. chemist? From Amerika!"

Logan nodded softly.

"Yes that is correct. However…"

"Ok cool. Nice to meet ya doc. I have work to do. Seeya."

And with that the dark man disappeared up a staircase into the attic.  The door fell shut with a loud bang, leaving Logan and Patton in an awkward silence, before the latter quickly picked up the conversation with an apologetic grin.

"Ah I'm sorry. He's shy. He'll warm up…He's a bit frosty" 

The man grinned even brighter.  

"Get it? Warm up? Because we are in Siberia? And he's frosty? Because of the ice?"

The scientist could only blink at him in soft bewilderment. He was too startled to even respond.  Not just because of the sudden disappearence of the third person in the room, but even more so, because of the sentence, the light blue one had just phrased. Puns were and always had been the lowest form of humour to him. And that one was particularly bad.

"Wasn't one of my best. I admit it. Buuuut no need to be so cold about it!"

"I think it is time for me to return to my research. I have taken advantage of your hospitality way too long already. Thank you for the meal, it was much appreciated."

With that Logan got up, took the bag with his new clothes and left. He had things to do. And issues to address. And purple haired men to figure out.

------

"Why was he here?!"

Virgil hissed in a mixture of panic and rage. "Pat you can't just invite everyone in! We are in a very sensible position right now! What if he were to capture you? He's a scientist! You cannot trust scientists!"

"Whoa there! Someone's all heated up! I think you need to cool down again, kiddo."

Patton grinned, completely ignoring the weight of the situation.

"This is not the time for temperature puns!! Seriously! What if he was one of them?!"

The man in light blue slightly frowned.

"He is not. He's a good man. And you said it yourself. He was completely shocked, when the ghoul attacked him. He didn't expect it. He didn't know. And he still doesn't."

Virgil calmed down a little, pinching the back of his nose with two fingers, trying to control his breathing. Finally he looked up again.

"Ok. So you invited him in to find out, what he knows? Not just because you love having people here?"

Patton grinned sheepishly and the darker man thought, that the truth probably lied somewhere in between those motives. His cousin/self proclaimed father did feel lonely quite easily and the doc was the perfect opportunity to chatter. No harm had come from it yet, but the rest was to be seen.

"You know Pat, that is why I said we should move back home to America. We are in dangerous territory here. Just let all of this be Remy's problem. It's not our war."

But the other just shook his head.

"We are family, Virge. We don't leave people behind."

Virgil sighed. Deep down he agreed, but the animalistic instinct to just run was becoming overwhelming from time to time.

"Yeah. You're right. Sorry."

------

The log house Logan was currently residing in was rented to his university by the russian government itself. That was, because the property was a bit special.

The house was bigger than it looked from the outside.  Apparently it had been a laboratory of the Akademgorodok University back in the 70ies and had been used to do secret experiments on animals back then. (Logan had read something about genetic manipulation on dogs to make them stronger and more durable, but he didn't know any more about it, than that the experiments had been stopped by the government. Since then this place had been abandoned.) So the basement was basically a huge lab.

It was stretching further than the house itself and even had an escape tunnel in the furthest part, that led into the nearby forest.

But for Logan's purpose, the front part of the lab had been enough. He didn't need the dissection tables and the huge cages in the back. Or the electronic devices, that he couldn't even identify.

(The researchers seemed to have left the place rather quickly back then, only taking their notes and research papers, but leaving everything else behind.)

All he had needed was a place to chemically examine different components of soil and plants and sometimes small dead animals like lizards, or their excrements. He had set up his personal work space with his own chemicals, instruments and devices that he had brought with him and had just ignored, that there was more to this place.

But that was, when he just had to make smaller experiments to test samples for compounds.  Now, that he had a whole new unknown slimy creature to investigate, maybe the dissection tables would be of use.

They were the only logical place to put dead remains, after all. And after what the wolf had done to it, the thing was definitely dead. 

Even now he still heard it screeching…

With a low sigh Logan turned on the lights in the back room of the basement. The neon rays flickered to life to send their cold unfeeling light over metallic objects all over the place. The biochemist had been in here only once before, when he first moved here three weeks ago.  And that only because he liked to make himself aware of his surroundings.  He liked to know what he was sleeping on top of.

But now he actually stepped into the room and touched things. He emptied one of the tables of all the tools that laid scattered around and put them into one of the smaller metallic containers. Maybe he could use some of them? The scalpels were probably dull by now, but most of the clamps and tongs seemed fine.

Then he used some laboratory sanitizer and wiped the table clean. This would be his workspace in here.

In the end he needed the whole day to clean and reorganize the laboratory.

All those cobwebs and all the dust that had gathered here for nearly 50 years were hard to get rid of, and then he still had to sort out the useless tools, replace them with his own and toss them into one of the bigger containers at the back wall of the room.

Surprisingly enough, the vents still worked and he had to replace only one light bulb in the dissection lamp. The lab was in astonishingly good shape. But it still took a lot of time to set everything up. When Logan finally walked back into his living room, the fire that he had started this morning had gone out and the sun was gone. Darkness had laid itself over Siberia once again. (Not very surprising, considering, that Siberian winters consisted to 70% of night.) For a few seconds he seriously considered going out despite the darkness to get the corpse, but then he discarded this thought within the blink of an eye, when it occurred to him, that there could be more specimen than just the one that had died. And maybe he wouldn’t have as much luck this time. He should at least wait for the sunrise. But then he would go to the core of all this.