#still i am happy i can at least write

[waterfallofspace]

omg tma!! I started re listening it a few weeks ago and obsessed again. I would love to see some more Elias from you🫣 Your previous fic with him is still one of my favourites

Thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!~

So I uh... meant for this to be a drabble, but it... got a little out of hand... and it's not very snz heavy, more plot/general sickness heavy, so I apologize if that's not what you had in mind, just kinda went the way it went~

A Betting Man

The one in which Peter bets Elias he won't last the day with the terrible head cold he's 'hiding'. (Definite HUGE spoilers for the M/agnus Archives, so please be aware of that!)

Characters: Elias, Peter, Tim, Rosie ( ft. lonelyeyes + mentions of Jon + Sasha) Word Count: 4.3k

It’s been a long week, even for Elias. Dealing with a new archivist is always a bit of a headache, but especially now with all that’s at stake. Near constant surveillance has left a strain on… what perhaps one could refer to as his ‘eyes’. Jon has required a fair amount of supervision to make sure he stays on the right path- or, shall we say, at the right pace. 

Leaning forward in his chair, Elias allows his face to rest against his hands. Jon’s in the middle of another statement, still adamant to deny his way through the horrors. He’ll be occupied for at least another fifteen minutes. More than enough time for a brief rest. Not a nap, just… a couple minutes to rest his eyes…

“Mr. Bouchard?” Rosie’s voice over the intercom jolts him awake from the waves of fatigue that had been pulling him in. 

Elias hits the button to respond. He barely manages to get the “yes-” out before his voice breaks. He releases the button, ducking into his fist with a harsh cough, before trying again. 

“Yes, Rosie, what is it?” His voice still sounds rough, and he silently curses the nasal quality it possesses. 

“Uh, sorry to disturb you, Tim just has a few questions about some follow up to a statement, but I can tell him you’re busy… or…” Rosie trails off, the hesitation evident in her voice. 

“Well,” a voice sounds out, ringing out like a gunshot in the silent office. “Better not keep him waiting.” 

Familiar as it may be, the sudden nature of the intrusion comes as quite the shock. Elias maintains a white-knuckled grip on his neutral expression as he turns to face the captain, heart pounding in his throat. “Peter, I believe I’ve asked you to announce yourself.” 

“Ah, you did, seems I’ve forgotten again, ever so sorry Elias,” Peter smirks, unfolding himself from the corner he’d been watching from. “Wouldn’t want to step on your toes, what with the watching and all. More your thing than mine, isn’t that right?” 

Elias simply rolls his eyes in response, glancing back to the intercom. Peter follows his gaze, chuckling lightly.

“Peter,” Elias cautions, scanning back over to Jon in his mind. Still caught up in the statement, going on about some form of… meat. Not something Elias needs playing in the back of his mind while dealing with Peter. 

“Rosie’s waiting,” Peter interrupts, pulling Elias’s full focus back onto him. “Shame to leave her hanging, sweet girl and all, just trying to do her job.” 

“If you’d really like me to answer her, you’d leave me alone so I cahh… can do just that.” 

Elias trails off for only a second, feeling the itch that he’d believed quelled earlier this morning start to bubble back to the surface. The cold medicine should have had another few hours left. Seems burning the candle at all ends has its downfalls. 

He still manages to finish strong, fighting off the sensation with a single brush of his finger. It did not, however, go unnoticed. Elias fights back a sigh as the sparkle he’s come to know all too well begins to appear in the sea captain’s eyes. The eager glisten of someone with a bet to propose. 

“We both know you’re perfectly capable of answering her with me in the room. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to be… subtle,” Peter offers, still watching Elias carefully. 

With a deep resignation, Elias hits the button again, informing Rosie to tell Tim he’ll stop by later. She answers with thanks, interrupted by Tim shouting something about ‘right-o double boss!’ in the background. A slightly mortified Rosie repeats her thanks, the intercom cutting off her apologies for the intrusion. 

Elias simply ignores it, turning his attention instead to Peter, still lingering in the office. Not undivided this time though, as Elias feels his nose twitch again. Eager to get this over with, he simply awaits Peter’s proposition. He could attempt to Know it, but with the current state of his head, and the dangerous buzzing in his sinuses, the risk seems to outweigh simply waiting.

“So,” Peter begins, eyes flicking up and down Elias, as if running final calculations. “I’ve got a wager to offer.” 

“I figured as much,” Elias replies, leaning back slightly in the chair and adjusting his suit jacket with feigned disinterest. “But I don’t believe you have anything to offer me that would entice me to accept it.” 

“I have a feeling you’ll take it anyways, Elias.” 

“And whhih.. why iihh- hehh!-” With a desperate sniff, Elias manages to pull back control, fighting back the burning creeping up his nose. 

“Because,” Peter cuts in, looking damn near gleeful at Elias’s struggle. “You’ve always been a betting man.” 

 “hiEh’mMPFfshh-uih!” Elias winces as the sneeze breaks through his control. He barely manages to catch it in the soft folds of his rapidly deployed handkerchief. Peter looks beyond thrilled at this, as if the sneeze itself was some form of acceptance. And– 

“hH’MPFSHh’uh! hiH’MFSHH–oo!” 

They both know it never stops at one. Managing to stall the onslaught with a rough massage of the handkerchief, Elias cautiously lowers it and meets Peter’s eye again. Peter, for his part, offers a blessing. Elias shrugs it off with a grimace. 

“Fine,” Elias says, internally cursing again as his voice scrapes painfully against his ever-worsening throat. “Will taking this bet get you to leave me alone?” 

“I suppose so, if that’s what you’d like,” Peter replies casually. They both know it’s not a hard sell, getting him to be alone. 

“Then get on with it, what’s the wager.” 

“A simple one,” Peter smiles, leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. “If you manage to hide this terrible head cold you’ve picked up from the rest of your staff, then you win!” 

Of course Peter could tell. The medication had picked a lovely time to wear off, but… having this be the focus of such a wager was still… unpleasant. And besides, he had no time for such dramas. Jon was finishing up his statement by now. Elias found himself Knowing that Jon was in fact asking Sasha and Tim for the final reports on the follow up they managed to do. And for that, Tim was still waiting on him. 

With another sigh, this one hitting something on the edge of his lungs and leaving him coughing into his fist, Elias manages to gain enough composure to reply with a mild, “I’m quite the busy man, Peter.” 

“Oh I know you are,” Peter pushes the glass of the water on the desk closer, and Elias gives him a muted thanks. “However, all I’m asking you to do is- well, what we both know you were planning to do anyways. I’m just interested in making a little money on the whole ordeal.” 

“Fine, name your price and then leave me to my work,” Elias replies, managing to stall the coughing with a few sips of the water. 

“Fifty dollars says you get caught before you go home today.” 

“Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” Elias stands from his desk, gesturing Peter towards the door. “I have an appointment with Tim.” 

Peter doesn’t fight this, simply offering a deeply unsettling smile as he folds back out through the door. Only a faint mist clouding the hallway and echoing in Elias’s mind lingers as any proof he was there at all. It soon fades from the doorway, though the fog covering Elias’s thoughts remains. Maybe that one is more from the fever than the visit. 

“mMFhsh’oo!” Elias groans softly into the handkerchief, already feeling the hitching start up again as his eyes begin to water. Never just the one. “mPFShh–eh’MFSHhh’oo!” 

He pulls his hands away, before ducking frantically into his shoulder for a final, “ah’tshhiew!”  that manages to slip through before he can catch it in the cloth. 

Mercifully Peter left before that particular outburst, the pitchy whine of the last burst sending a rush of heat to Elias’s ears. Peter’s never been one to shy away from a good bit of taunting when he gets the opportunity, and this would definitely have served as host to some mocking. 

Making his way down the hall, Elias gives Rosie a polite nod, wincing slightly when she calls out to him. 

“Mr. Bouchard! Sorry sir, just have a couple things to run past you, if you have a moment?” 

“Of course Rosie,” Elias replies, turning slowly to face her with a calculated smile. She means well, and he can’t find it in himself to be upset with her. It’s hardly her fault that he’s unwell, or that he had the misfortune to draw Peter’s attention. 

“I’ll try to make this fast, there’s just a few forms that need a signature, some follow up for you to review- oh! And I almost forgot, Jon was asking about a few different statements.” 

Absent-mindedly beginning to sign the papers, Elias turns his focus to finding Jon. It turns out he’s in artifact storage, looking at something related to a statement, perhaps. It’s not an inconvenient spot for him to be, should make the meeting with Tim go a lot smoother. 

“Sir?” Rosie says, hesitantly. Elias manages to pull himself back, finding it harder than it should be. This fever seems to be worsening by the minute. 

“My apologies, I’m a touch… preoccupied,” Elias pauses briefly, feeling the all too familiar sensation start buzzing in his nose once more. He manages to stall it with a quick rub. Rosie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy looking down at her stack of paperwork. 

“Oh, I’m sorry sir! There’s just the follow ups, and Jon’s questions-” 

“Please leave those follow ups on my desk, I’ll get to them after I go and see Tim. As for Jon, I’ll pop by his office and talk to him myself,” Elias cuts her off, keeping the smile on his face as gentle as he can manage. 

Rosie smiles back, nodding and jotting down a few notes on her pad. Elias nods his thanks, then making a few polite excuses, takes his leave. He barely makes it down the hall before the buzzing becomes all consuming. Handkerchief long forgotten at his desk, he settles for pressing his wrist to his nose, and attempting to stifle the onslaught. 

“ek’ngt-chh! eh’dngt! –nngdt’chh! hihh… hh’ngKT’chh–oo!” 

The last breaks through with a whiny exhale, spreading the fevered flush deeper into his cheeks. He’d always taken a sense of pride in his control, both of himself and those around him. Part of being alive, and in power, as long as he has, it comes with the territory. But this cold was determined to rob him of any decorum he had left, it seemed.

Mercifully it seems no one witnessed this outburst either, but his charade of health is rapidly deteriorating. Elias lets another internal curse slip, this time it nearly passes his lips. Discreetly wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead, he continues down the hall towards Tim. 

Elias’s specific brand of Knowing has its advantages, not the least of which being the ability to find any employee whenever necessary. In this case it’s walking up behind Tim pouring himself a coffee in the kitchen. 

“I heard you wanted to speak to me, Tim?” Elias says, voice cutting through the silence. He admittedly revels a little in the shudder that runs through the (much) younger man’s spine. 

“Double boss,” Tim collects himself fast, giving one of his patented charming smiles. It’s no wonder the– well, everyone, falls for it so fast. “Uncanny how you can sneak up on someone like that! Have you thought about going into the surprise birthday planning business?” 

“I… don’t believe that’s a thing,” Elias replies patiently, offering a contained smile. It’s never a good idea to put off one’s subordinates so soon. Keep them in line? Of course. But this early on, respect and fear are both key weapons to wield. 

Tim chuckles, pouring a frankly outrageous amount of cream and sugar into the coffee before giving it a light stir. “Well if it isn’t, it should be!” 

“I think I’ll leave the party planning to you, though I’ll always find some time to stop by for a piece of cake.” 

“And you’ll always be welcome, you’re the big boss after all!” Tim smiles again, though Elias can see every ounce of sarcasm plastered throughout the grin. While he may not match Tim when it comes to charm, he far surpasses him in skills when lying is at play. He’s had much more practice, after all. 

Biting down the urge to cough again as his throat objects to the prolonged usage, Elias steadies himself with a firm, “I was told you wanted to see me? If you wouldn’t mind getting to the point, I do have other matters of which to attend…” 

“Oh, right!” Tim starts, setting down his coffee and reaching over to the table for a couple files. Elias takes this moment to duck into his wrist, managing a pair of completely silent stifles. Another trick his years have let him hone, though each new body seems to take a varying amount of time to reach perfection.

“hk’ndGT-uh!”  

This one, unfortunately, is deeply uncooperative, letting the final sneeze escape into a strangled noise. Tim doesn’t seem to have noticed, busy rustling through the files. He’s obviously looking for something. It would be much easier to simply Know, and just give Tim the answer before even hearing the question… but that draws too much attention. He’ll just have to wait it out. 

Since he’s standing here anyways, Elias takes the chance for a quick peek at Jon. He seems to have settled himself back into his office, clicking away at his computer as he translates a few statements over to the device. Hardly interesting work, they’re certainly not anything worthwhile, but they should give him something to do for the rest of the afternoon. 

“Boss?” Tim’s voice pulls him back, and Elias attempts to focus on the file being held out to him. Attempts, and fails. 

Instead, all he manages to do is offer a half strangled noise, and sway slightly on his feet. Tim, to his credit, is quick to react; pulling out a chair and leading Elias gently into it. 

“That’s quite alright,” Elias protests, attempting to stand before quickly thinking better of it. He plays off the attempt as merely changing position, crossing one leg over the other. “It was just a touch of dizziness, haven’t been sleeping enough lately, what with Jon in his new position and all. A lot of late nights, as I imagine the rest of you are pulling as well.” 

Tim’s face is nearly unreadable. Elias almost considers Knowing his feelings, but given how poorly checking in on Jon just went, he’s not eager for a repeat performance. 

Instead, he settles on raising carefully to his feet, and steadying Tim with a polite but firm look. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Now, the files? I believe I mentioned it before, but I have quite a lot to do.” 

With a small nod, face still tightly guarded, Tim lets his gaze drop down to the files, collecting the papers he’d been holding out before. He hands them over to Elias, who recognizes quite quickly that they all feature connections to some rather big donors. This must be why Tim wanted his input before continuing. He had given Jon quite the talking to for digging in too far the other day. 

“The trails of these follow ups have led to some interesting places,” Tim begins, going on some rant about Jon’s persistence, Sasha’s lack of interest in hard work, and more meaningless drama. He’s just started on something about ‘needing a contact in the law office down the block’ when Elias feels the all too familiar tickle beginning to reemerge.

He isn’t going to be able to get away without making his departure all too obvious. No room for polite excuses or subtly in this moment, so with a slight grimace, he makes his move. 

“So sorry, please excuse me for a sehh- second.” 

Tim pauses, just beginning to ask if everything’s okay when Elias turns into his wrist, bending at the waist ever so slightly as he ducks away with a tightly contained “ih’gnDt!” 

“Oh- bless yo-” Tim starts, getting cut off by a wave from Elias, still hitching rapidly into his wrist. 

“N- nohhht… d- done… hk’nNgtchh! ih’mMFSShhh’uh! mMPFSHh! ih’MMPFShhh–oo!” 

“Christ, bless you boss! Quite the show there,” Tim laughs, clearly not too worried about mocking his superior. Normally Elias might chastise him a touch for that, but now doesn’t seem the time for such things. Instead, he merely offers thanks, grabbing a tissue from the counter and attempting a polite blow. 

There is a slight wince from Tim at this, Elias mimicking the action as his sinuses throb at the action. The dull ache spreads further throughout his head, and the world seems to spin as Elias pulls himself back to his full height. Tim’s still looking on, a touch concerned, and Elias offers a vague wave.

“Apologies, the dust down here still tends to get to me sometimes, even after these years.” 

There’s a brief pause, Tim seeming to consider this explanation, before the tension melts from his posture and it’s right back to the rambling. It’s much different from Martin’s brand. That seems to be more about nerves, his mouth moving faster than he can keep up with. Tim’s is more calculated, seemingly just enjoying the sound of his own voice. “Seems to happen to loads of people. They’re used to a much cleaner standard I think, the libraries seem to be cleaner at least, and it’s often a bit of a shock I think for people to see what disarray we’re in! I mean hell, I’ve succumbed to a few attacks of my own, and Jon– christ, you should have heard him when he first started emptying out those boxes. Nearly dragged him out by his collar a few times, just to make sure he didn’t stop breathing.” 

“And I thank you for that,” Elias interrupts with a polite smile. “Not eager to have to fill the role again quite so soon.” 

Tim chuckles a bit, but generally seems to be a bit lost in his own thoughts. Recalling memories of those first few weeks, Elias supposes. Or, shall we say, Knows. The knowledge leaves him a bit dizzy, but nothing nearly so bad to knock him off his feet this time. Tim snaps out of it quickly, returning to his line of questioning about donations, funding, and… things that sounded to be walking a fine line of legality. 

Elias gives the proper responses; a smile here, nod there, yes or nos when appropriate, some casual conversation when there’s nothing to comment on past a vague nicety. Eventually Tim finishes with his questions, Elias offering what knowledge he had– or rather, what knowledge he reasonably could have. 

“So if that’s all,” Elias says, relief beginning to spread through him as the end of this meeting draws tantalizingly close. “I’ll be getting back to my desk, and you should get back to work as well. There are still plenty of hours left in the day.” 

“Not much for me to do until Sasha gets back,” Tim starts, but Elias quickly cuts him off with a click of the tongue. 

“I’m sure Jon could always use a hand, perhaps you can go get a few more boxes to pack up the statements he’s already been through.” 

“Or,” Tim strings out the word, giving a tilted grin. “I could go help Sasha with some very important research.” 

This thinly veiled attempt at getting off work would, once again, normally deserve some form of response. The least Tim could do is pretend to be working, put a little effort into the charade. But between the chills beginning to work their way up his spine, and the consistent itch that won’t leave him be, Elias finds himself with bigger things to focus on. 

“Do what you will, just make sure you gehh– get your work done before you leave for the day.” 

The single hitch breaks through his focus, Elias fighting it off with the last of his resolve. Tim doesn’t let this one slide past though, reaching over and moving the tissues closer with a touch of a smirk on his face. Apparently eager for another display from the boss. Even as much as he despises the vulnerability, Elias can’t say the… voyeuristic side doesn’t hold its own appeal. 

It’s hardly up to him though, he’s been denying the whims of this cold for far too long it seems, and luck has run out. With the last bit of control he has left, he manages to grab a handful of the tissues Tim had so kindly pushed within reach, ducking into them as the fit finally breaks through.

“hH’RRSHHhoo!”

“Woah, bless you boss, that wa-” 

Elias cuts him off with a shake of his head, still hitching desperately into the tissues. 

“N- never… nehh… never just… hK’TZSHHhoo! eh’RZSHhhoo! Christ, I cahh… can’t– eh’RSHHh’oo! hh’ETZSHhhiiew!” 

The last one comes out more whiny than the rest, Tim at least having the decency to look concerned at the change of pitch. Elias manages to watch him through watery eyes, finding it almost amusing how arguably the most charismatic of his employees seems absolutely lost as to what he should be doing. In his defense, at this stage, there isn’t much to do but ride it out. 

“ih’EZSSH–EZSHH’oo!” The pair stumbles over each other, but leaves Elias with a long enough gap to grab another handful of tissues. He manages to get off a quick blow, wincing synchronously with Tim at the noises it produces. Not like he has much ability to save any dignity now. 

Thankfully, it seems to have stopped the attack, and Elias sinks himself back into the chair Tim had pulled out for him earlier, exhausted. Really quite astounding, with how far the modern world has come, still a cure for the common cold remains out of reach. 

“Christ, boss, bless you,” Tim offers, Elias startling a bit as he comes to the sudden remembrance he’s not alone. 

“Thagk you,” Elias replies, once again leaving them both wincing at his rapidly deteriorating state. If he didn’t know better, Elias would think Peter somehow caused this illness to behave in this fashion. Alas, he does know better. And, for that matter, Know better. This state of rapid decline is par for the course in this body. It seems to have a quite poor immune system. Unfortunately not something he can blame Peter for. 

“I think you’re running a fever,” Tim pauses, seeming to, for the first time, truly take in Elias’s appearance. “A pretty bad one too, I’d guess.” 

Elias pauses, face calm as he weighs his options. It’s almost certain the bet’s lost now. The other symptoms he could probably have waved off as more dust related problems, but a fever… that’s hard to pin on a mere sensitivity, or even an allergy. 

Still, the bet’s not his main concern. Maintaining his careful balance of fear and respect requires a lot of maintenance. Being seen this unwell, this vulnerable, that certainly could tip the scales into unwanted territory. 

“I’b–” Clearing his throat, Elias attempts some semblance of normal sounding speech, though the edges of his words still hold that heavy congested tone. “I might be a touch under the weather, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I appreciate your concern, but all I need is a good night's sleep, and I should be good as new.” 

It seems a mutual agreement that that statement was a lie, and that neither of them is going to be the one to point that out. Tim offers a vague shrug, mutters something sarcastic under his breath about ‘not being Martin’, followed by something about ‘spreading the plague to the whole office’, but generally leaves without much of a fuss. 

The fussing, no doubt, will come in the form of a salt-tinged sea captain waiting in his office. Elias doesn’t even have to Know, to know that one. 

As he makes his way upstairs, shrugging off Rosie’s concerns with a tight, yet friendly, dismissal, Elias finds himself hurrying to duck into his office before the–

“hh’atshhew! at’shhoo! Christ.”  

“Bless you, Elias.” 

Elias turns to face the voice, accepting the handkerchief it offers out to him. “You knew I’d lose, dihh… ah’tzshh’oo! atschhew! heh’RRSHh’oo! Bloody hell.” 

“And again,” Peter smirks. 

“Didn’t you?” Elias finishes, keeping an eye on the figure standing next to his chair.

“Of course I did,” Peter replies, nonchalant as ever. “Rosie had you clocked since this morning. You had lost before you even accepted. Surprised someone of your standing didn’t… Know that already. Still, it was quite entertaining, watching you attempt to hide it for so long.” 

Elias simply rolls his eyes, blowing his nose for what is almost the first real time today. It leaves him breathless, and he follows it with a second, then third. He takes more than a hint of enjoyment from the looks of concern that flash across Peter’s face.

Placing a fifty on the table, Elias sinks into his chair, finally beginning to let down his guard under Peter’s watchful gaze. He puts up little resistance when strong arms guide him up, and over to the small couch in the corner of his office. The lack of resistance continues as those same arms pull him down, laying him carefully across the couch, head resting lightly on Peter’s lap. 

No words are spoken between them, but then again, they never really needed such things.

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[boxwinebaddie]

How/when does Jersey end up saying I love you?

oooooh! okay, so i was going to write it out ( i am jennifer slowpez so in nina fashion, i am spoiling it, what's new? ) but there is a part after this...if we remember this ask i am obsessed with where raven is diabolically patching jersey up via the tiny child sized hellokitty carebear bandids kyle bought for the kids he works w in the elementary school via that one anons delicious input...genius really.

*raven vc* pero like, so you know, they pull away it's awkward fml. dawg, they are about to *dreamy fit asf rm tolkien posh british vc* have a cheeky little snog like that entire whumpshot...anyways!

( ALRIGHT THIS IS LONG, VERY UNHINGED AND ROUGH SORRY I HOPE YOU SMILE LAUGH AND CRY PENDEJOS <3 )

kyle notices that the vinyl record player is playing their sadie hawkins first dance song ( idk what song it is but its an abba song because thats gay rights baby! its probably my love, my life or andante andante...branch in my eyes ) and theres a bowl of skittles, but only the red ones are in it...because stan still eats around the red ones bc only kyle can have the red ones....brb crying!

yadda yadda yadda. and i think on the tv, the screen is paused over a brand new episode of say yes to the dress ( if we recall, before i deleted chapter six...which was a disaster but also a masterpiece rip, ravenstan was being so boyfail cute in it in his armani suit and was rizzing the hell out of kyle with his crunchy boy knowledge of plants...when stan came over for their #hate fashionably late, kyle was stress-watching say yes to the dress...which is his favorite show because he claims to be allergic to romance, but secretly thinks its really beautiful that people can fall and love and get married...AAA )

but anyways, when they start dating say yes to the dress ( shoutout to when ravenstan forgot what it was called bc adhd and called it Are You Down With The Gown ) became their show and kyle very quietly is like "were you going to watch it?" and stan getting nervous, trying to deflect because they always watch it together is like uhuhuhHhHh and kyle, sad laugh shaking his head is like "baby" *yersey swearing* "dude...baby dude...my guy...just guy, fuck, you know you can watch it without me. we're not...Together. *hurts worse than his ribs* you don't have to wait for me." and stan is like "i-i know. i was going to...i-i Wanted to! i just--i couldn't. i couldn't watch all the people in...."

Love :(

he doesn't say it. but jersey kyle can FEEL it.

he winces. hard.

he wants to fucking die...he wants to say something but he's so stupid and he ruined ravenstan's life, words fail him but STAN!!! grabs his hand and is like "-because! because i knew it would make me miss you. and fuck it. FUCK EVERYTHING KYLE I FUCKING MISS YOU!!!! i miss you and i LOVE you and i don't--i don't care if you can't say it back! i don't have to wait for you, but i WILL! i want to! i'll--i'll wait forever! YOURE MY FOREVER. people tell me they love me everyday, but with you--i can feel it. I. Just. Know. and that's enough! you're enough. YOURE ENOUGH, KYLE BROFLOVSKI. just the way you are. and i'm sorry...i'm sorry i pushed you and tried to change you. i was just, i was insecure about it i guess--and--and--"

cue kyle smiling like an idiot ( the rare kyle smile ) like "...stan?"

ft. stan still yapping smh like "oh my god, i miss you SO much! curb only got into the trash because you weren't here to remind me. and i had pasta from this five star restaurant the other day and oh my god, ky. it was TRASH! yours is so much better! and-and i think i broke the washing machine earlier, oh my god, it sounded like an explosion, i can't find anything, i--"

kyle...literally still trying to get stans attention smh going

"stan? hey? stan???? Stan???"

stans still yapping btw ( oh my god when he is passionate the man never shuts the hell up hes like rambling himself into a corner ) like "and theres this new exhibit in the aquarium and theres this huge red fish in it and i wanted to send it to you and be like 'this you' but were fighting and I HATE FIGHTING WITH YOU. can we stop fighting? :< i miss you. will you please come home? curb misses you, i miss you, i--"

*jersey vc* STANLEY MARSH!

*stan doing the wide flustered doe eye thing with the lip ring lip bite combo that makes kyle like actually criminally insane with love feels*

speaking of...

he leeeeeeeeeeeeeeans in...

gently grasps ravenstan's face

KISSES THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE SHIT OUT OF HIM.

and says

and i quote...

"Te amo." <3

AAAAAAAAAA AND THE CROWD GOES WIIIIIIILD :')

-uncle nina, gratuitous undivorcer of ravesey style

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[katyobsesses]

I think my glee obsession is returning in full force

[banneriscarried]

I've just started writing chapter six for Hopelessly Devoted To (using) You (but you're using me too) and I've officially passed the 30,000 words mark!

(this is not my official status update for this week's chapter, that's going up later today)

[waywardstation]

May I share a small idea?

You could use the poll as some sort of list for some future WIP Wednesdays. The most popular choice is first and then the next in line comes on the next Wednesday when you got the time and so on.

It could save you plenty of time to prepare something and may lessen the pressure a little!

Obviously it’s up to you but I’m leaving the suggestion here for you to think about.

Hope you’re having a good time and remember to stay hydrated and take care of yourself~!

Oh this is a fantastic idea!! I think I will do this!! (Though I am hoping at least three of the options on there will be going up within the next several weeks, all of them are so so close to completion!!)

I will do this though!! Thank you very much for the suggestion friend, it’s a great idea!!

[seventeendeer]

shout-out to the 214k word undertale fanfiction I wrote and published ~7 years ago that still gets kudos on the regular

I want to make art and share it w the world and feel seen and understood, but finishing stuff is hard. if I die before I finish anything else that is fine, however, bc clearly that fanfiction will continue to shine across time and space like an immortal angel stretching on and on until the heat death of the universe

[presdestigatto]

why did i just see someone say charles needs to put less pressure on himself and that the grief he carries affects his performance and why does that have likes i need people to stop speaking on charles if you aren’t familiar w his history

okokok but tho i lied and went back on twt to procrastinate my work can i say one of the funniest things about f1twt is this ferrari updates account which 55s keep trying to cancel because they’re ‘biased towards leclerc’ i love u fanaticsleclerc

[xnervouscircus]

oh

that's

oh

i'm

i am legitimately tearing up oh wow

[zwischenland]

life update/2023 so far:

moved to a new (big) city with the intention to build a good life post-graduation; flatmate turned out to be a massive narcissist and i did not have money to move again; spent several months applying to jobs and realised my degree is considered useless outside of science; made some friends (but the person i grew closest to will move away), felt like too much of a mess for dating; got a trainee position with a ridiculous salary but took it for the work experience; visited my best friend in the netherlands and had one good week; started work, struggled with 40h weeks, got along really well with my colleagues; started looking for a flat and realised it is impossible in this city without a good income; rain for weeks, some peace in that; got laid off for financial reasons; mini breakdown (i have been coping weirdly well/suppressing my emotions, not sure); went to the seaside and had a couple good hours; decided to move back to my hometown (for questionable, almost entirely emotional reasons); started looking for a room (anxiously) or flat (pessimistically); my dad still has brain cancer; i have not talked to my therapist in four months

[dayas]

Alright I was tagged by @jojameswinter and @alphinias so here we go!

7 Up Writing Tag Game

An excerpt from the no longer secret Jiara SWATH AU for the Royals square from Jiara Bingo

At that very moment, Kiara dangled precariously from the apple tree, reaching as far as her arm and the fingers attached to it would stretch. The apple she snatched down nearly tumbled from her palm and took her with it, but she wrapped her arms around the sturdier branches and threw her head back, laughing at Pope’s sharp intake of breath and the exhale that followed it.

“I did advise caution,” he told her, shakily accepting the fruit. Kiara’s shoulder rose and fell, and she sat beside him, swinging her legs over the edge of the large branch they occupied.

“I did not fall, did I? Thus, I was cautious enough.”

Soon enough the apple is forgotten about, tossed to the ground by a startled Pope upon hearing the voice of his father calling for him. He and Kiara descended the tree quickly, scampering off before the call grew closer.

Spring turned to summer, and summer to autumn. With the fading of the light and leaves from the trees came the worst tragedy Kiara could fathom.

As every good thing must, the princess’ golden childhood came to an end.

Tagging @ghostiewriter @whitetrashjj @onlyhereforangst @rojaswarren @jiaraisinthegoodplace @goingfullpogue @hmspogue

[mirrortouchedsea]

getting motivated to work on that kaokana fic finally and i have added like 1k this week.... so much progress for me i'm so happy

[lactosefreevanillayoghurt]

i don't feel real anymore and it's only. monday.

[freebooter4ever]

Nick: never takes photos of himself, refuses to let anyone else take photos of him even personal unshared snapshots

also nick: posts seven photos and a slow motion pan of the latest wooden boat he's building 🤣

[capybaraonabicycle]

the silly little cat fic is at 16k now and nowhere near finished. It will definitely be at least 20k, probably 25k, possibly more. What am I doing?