#there were three rounds at the event bc there were so few people there and i got One de facto win bc my opponent dropped out

[morninkim]

while my mutuals are at powermorphicon meeting and gossiping with rangers EYE am eating lunch in the park after losing both rounds 0-2 and 1-2 at a local vgc event. so who's really winning right now.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light

Omg here we are. At the end. I'm sad, I've been having such a blast with you guys this week! But all good things... Anyway, this is a strange one, rambling and mournful but hopefully with some sweetness. I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it gives you something, I hope we part on this final day of Painland Week as friends and confidants 💛 Huge, huge thanks to the organisers of Painland Week for putting this magical event together! Special love on this day goes out to @mellxncollie , who has been creating amazing gifs all week and has made beautiful ones for this very fic. It's been so so wonderful to collab with you and everyone should go and look at these wonderful creations at ONCE. Warnings for canonical character death (sorry, Charles) and the stuff that comes with it (i.e. refs to bullying/hatecrimes), non-graphic injury description, and just general mournful grief vibes all round. But hopeful ending bc let's face it, we all know how this played out! 7.3k, M-rated, available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Colour! What a deep and mysterious language. The language of dreams."

~ Paul Gauguin

Edwin Payne had always possessed a thirst for knowledge. As a child, he'd wished to learn just about everything there was to learn — every fact in every field. He'd been told, many times, that he could live to be a hundred years old, and still not have enough hours to do so.

Edwin had most certainly not lived to be a hundred. But he supposed that if you added his sixteen years of life to his seventy-three of death, he was getting rather close.

The dead years, however, had been far from conducive to study. Knowledge was hard to come by in Hell. Found either in burnt and bloodied books scavenged from individual damnations, or delivered in the form of cruel trials. He'd been taught a lesson or two in his time, but not on anything so polite and pedestrian as geometry. Edwin's key area of personal study in Hell had been one thing, and one thing only: how to escape from it.

It had taken seven decades, a slew of disembowelments and innumerable failed attempts, but at last he'd passed his final exam with merit. Or at least, a version of him had. But there wasn't much to be done for his original self, whose body lay mouldering on the dollhouse floor beneath a thousand savaged duplicates.

Best not to dwell on it.

He supposed he should have been upset about where the door to Hell spat him out. Not many people would be happy to return to the place where they'd met their untimely, violent demise. But to Edwin, after a small infinity in the blackest pit, stepping back into St. Hilarion's hallowed halls felt like greeting an old friend. Well, friend might be a tad generous. More of an acquaintance, or perhaps a second cousin one barely tolerated. Not a person one enjoyed spending time with, but nonetheless a familiar face.

For a day or so he'd wandered about in a bit of a daze, glancing over his shoulder for any sign he'd been followed from the depths. He'd drunk in every familiar feature, and puzzled over the unfamiliar ones. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but he suspected they'd replaced the drapes. They were a lighter grey now than they had been in his time. He wondered what colour they'd chosen — or for that matter, what colour they were in the first place. He'd never thought to ask.

Then on his second day of wandering, he'd stumbled across the old library. And that, for several weeks, had been that.

He'd probably had dreams about this, in his youth. Dreams of being left to his own devices, surrounded by books. All the information he could inhale, with no interruptions. Not even from the other boys. Their voices had startled him a few times, and he was always wary when a gaggle of them descended on the library. But he'd quickly realised that none of them could see him, and so long as he turned the pages quietly, he was free to continue his reading unmolested.

And he did so, continuously, for days. Not even boring old human restrictions like hunger, tiredness or eye strain could stop him now. He read everything he could get his hands on, brushed up on everything, filling in the gaps of the last decades. On the future that had been robbed from him, subsiding into history while his back was turned. He'd sat in his own shellshock when he read not only about how the so-called 'war to end all wars' had concluded, but also how little time had passed before the next one. He'd blushed and skimmed the pages pertaining to the nineteen-sixties free love movement. He'd gazed, thunderstruck, at the moon through the library window; wondering what the Earth must have looked like to the man they put up there.

All these years he'd been trapped in the gutters at the deepest depths of suffering, reaching up towards the light; all that time, humanity had been reaching, too. Up, up and up, all the way to the stars.

It became habit, after that, to gaze at the moon in between books and chapters. An opportunity to gather his thoughts on what he'd just read, to file away the facts, to jot down the most pertinent in his notebook. It was rather a meditative process.

Or at least it had been, until the night he'd seen something else beneath that moon. Something tragically earthbound amidst the gently illuminated greys of the grounds. A hunched and trembling shape against the trees, lurching by Edwin's window. A boy, on the run — his pursuers baying for blood like wolves at his heels.

They could put a man on the moon, but some things never changed.

It would be the first time Edwin had left the library since re-discovering it. Holding aloft the pilfered lantern he'd been using to read into the night, he trod carefully through the darkened corridors. The majority of staff and students were in dorms or common rooms by now, voices a soft patter, bleeding with the light under the doors. No one marked Edwin, or came to investigate the lantern floating past. Though some extinguished their own lights and hushed their voices, mistaking him for a warden. Edwin didn't wish to scare anyone, but he drew some comfort from it. He'd grown tired of being pounced upon in long, black, twisting hallways. How comforting for once to be the root of fear and not merely its captive.

Edwin had to search a little while, but he was already familiar with the best hiding places. It wasn't long before he was creeping up to the attic, minding his ghostly tread upon the stairs. He didn't wish to cause alarm, or send the boy deeper into hiding thinking his assailants had found him.

He crossed the threshold, and at once heard a shuddering intake of breath as the harsh white aura of his lantern bounced off the walls. He supposed there was no disguising the glow. He hung back a moment, conflicted. All he wanted was to offer some light and warmth, but perhaps a floating lantern would be a sight too much for the terrified boy. Well, it was too late for that, now. He stepped into the room proper, peering past the flare of his lantern to the source of the sound. A shivering bundle on the floor, tucked into a nook behind the shelves. Trying to be as small as possible and, by and large, succeeding.

Wide, hunted eyes stared into the light. A voice, low and wary, spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was then that Edwin realised the eyes weren't looking into the light. They were looking at him. He glanced behind himself, just to make sure, but he wasn't mistaken. "You can see me?"

It was also when he noticed something equally perplexing happening to the light. It had started to look... less white. No, in fact it no longer looked white at all, but it had not dimmed, and it bore no resemblance to any shade of grey Edwin had ever seen. It was... he didn't even have the language to describe it. If he had to choose a word, he could only say it looked warm. He'd never seen anything like it. Not in seventy years of Hell, nor in his life before. It simply defied description.

He tore his gaze from it. There were more pressing matters to attend to. "I... I thought this lantern might help," he said, still dumbfounded. He approached, with care — this boy was clearly a victim in this circumstance, but there was a defensive set to his jaw. A wild look in his eyes. A creature caught in a trap was as liable to bite a rescuer as an attacker. "You can simply extinguish it if those boys come up here."

The guarded expression cracked, vulnerability bleeding through. As Edwin drew closer, he noticed that the strange new quality of the light was reflected where it hit the boy. There were notes of something else beneath the pallid grey tones of his skin, something richer. Just as something beyond simple black glistened in his enormous eyes.

"You saw them?" the boy rasped.

"I did. I went to school here a long time ago." Edwin knelt before him, bringing the light closer to the lad’s face and marvelling, quietly, at the strange tones that sprang into sharp relief. Whoever this young man was, Edwin's very perception of the world appeared to be shifting in his presence. "We had bullies, too."

He looked so weak, curled up and trembling. He certainly wasn't weak, Edwin suspected that much. Peeking out from beneath the blanket were shoes and trousers of a kind he'd seen these modern boys wearing out on the sports pitch. The lad was no delicate flower, but at this moment, at the mercy of his wounds, he was helpless.

And if he could see Edwin... then his fate was already sealed.

Edwin looked at the boy levelly, at the fear in his strange eyes. He'd seen that fear upon countless faces these last seventy years, on the wretched souls crying out for respite from their torment. He'd worn a similar expression some decades ago, when a careless act of cruelty had damned him, too.

"Rest assured," he said, gently, offering the lantern. "I shan't hurt you."

He could see the moment the boy decided to believe him. His shoulders slumped, his breath escaped in a rattle of relief. He reached out from his blanket shell, and flashed a sliver of that curiously saturated skin at his shoulder. Against the stark white of the sleeveless vest he wore, the difference was now undeniable. Not grey, not white, but something altogether different. Like his eyes, like the metal at his throat and ear that glimmered in the lamplight. Tones Edwin had never seen before, couldn't even name.

It couldn't be...

"Cheers, mate," said the boy, shivering as he brought the lantern closer. "I'm freezing. Never been this cold in my life."

Swallowing, Edwin nodded. "It's the least I can do."

The boy's lips twitched in a feeble half-smile. "Yeah? You mean you can do more?"

Probably not as much as he'd like. But Edwin nodded again. "Of course."

The light shone upon the boy's face and the dark, waterlogged curls of his hair. Steeped in that impossible hue.

"Stick around a bit?" he asked, his voice very small indeed. "Bit lonely up here..."

Edwin had not come here with any plans to stick around. He'd wished to help, of course. But to say he was unaccustomed to dealing with people was a tremendous understatement. He'd planned to drop off the lantern, check the boy was alright, and slip away without a fuss.

But the boy was clearly not alright, half-alive and fading fast. And he'd seen Edwin, asked him in no uncertain terms to stay. Asked him with all the broken hope in his voice and all the impossible buried, blooming hues in his eyes. And if those colours meant what he had always been told…

Well. How could Edwin begrudge his own soulmate a last request?

"My name is Edwin," he said, as measured as he could manage. "Edwin Payne."

The boy grinned. It wobbled at the edges. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Charles Rowland."

Edwin hummed. Charles. A pleasant name. Respectable. He thought it rather suited the young man. "A pleasure to meet you, Charles."

Charles chuckled, drawing the lantern closer to himself. "Pretty bloody brills to meet you, too, Edwin."

The colour — for it surely was a colour, Edwin knew of no other word or explanation — of the lantern seemed to pulse, then settle, stronger than before. It illuminated the feeble grin upon Charles' drawn face in hues as yet unnamed.

Edwin would have to find some names. Compare what he could see with what he'd been told, what he'd read. Identify what he could.

While he still had the chance.

"Best thing to happen to me all night," Charles mumbled. "You showing up."

Edwin wished to tell him things could only improve from here; but he knew it to be a lie.

~

"It is the color closest to light. In its utmost purity, it always implies the nature of brightness and has a cheerful, serene, gently stimulating character. Hence, experience teaches us that yellow makes a thoroughly warm and comforting impression."

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Just didn't seem right. Letting that kid get beat on 'cause he's from Pakistan," said Charles.

His socks peeked out from the blanket, bright white in the lamplight. Interesting — a part of Edwin had always presumed that white would look vastly different with the rest of the spectrum unlocked. It didn't, but there was much less of it. The world was full of more off-whites in more hues than Edwin could've previously imagined. Charles' skin wasn't dissimilar. Pale-ish, but bearing pleasant warm under-and-overtones that made Edwin's look near-translucent by comparison.

"I mean, I'm half Indian," Charles continued. "Why am I so different?"

"That is a fair point," said Edwin, thoughtful, harkening back to some of the history books he'd skimmed of late. "They were the same country back when I was alive."

Fascinating how the times changed, new lines drawn in the sand. Fascinating, and frustrating. In the time Edwin had been gone wars had started and ended, entire countries had been ruptured, borders reshaped. And yet some of life's most persistent mysteries remained unanswered.

He'd not looked much into it, but it seemed little advancement had been made in understanding of the so-called 'soulmate' principle. It had been a frequent enough phenomenon to be common knowledge in Edwin's time, but no one ever had any real explanation for it. Plenty of spiritual explanations, of course. But it seemed no one could point to any tangible scientific reason why a person, upon hearing the voice of a certain other person, had the entire hidden colour spectrum revealed unto them. An entire dimension of the visible world remained inaccessible to the vast majority of the population, and still no one knew why, or even how. Clearly, there was still much research to be done on the subject.

And clearly, the notion of this mysterious person as a 'soulmate' was romantic drivel. Charles seemed a pleasant fellow, but he was a fellow. And two boys could hardly be soulmates, could they? No God-fearing Christian would embrace the concept if that were the case. So no, Charles couldn't possibly be his soulmate. Perhaps the phenomenon represented something else entirely. Like minds? Charles seemed an easy boy to get on with — and Edwin seldom got on with anybody. He even felt at ease sitting beside him on the hard attic floor, nearly touching. Perhaps Charles was simply his universe-appointed fastest friend; the one person in creation who could truly understand him.

Or maybe it was a cosmic fluke, a quirk of biology. Maybe it could have been absolutely anybody in the world.

Yes, that was probably it. Nothing deeper at play than that.

Still, it was a pity Charles would be dead before the night was out. Soulmate or not.

(Definitely not.)

"Right..." Charles mumbled. Followed by a frown. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"What d'you mean 'when you were alive'?"

Edwin looked at him. Charles still seemed rather small, rather sorry. A chilly little lump, all curled in on himself, even now they were side by side and of a height with one another. He looked cold, sallow. Not even the warm hues of the light Edwin had tentatively designated yellow could hide it, cheerful though it may be.

"You ought to move around a bit," said Edwin, standing smoothly. "You must keep your circulation going."

It would do no good, of course. But who knew? Charles might be hardier than Edwin gave him credit for.

"Edwin," said Charles, all seriousness. "What d'you mean when you were alive?"

Edwin's brow twitched. He held out his hand. "Get up, and I shall tell you."

Charles took his hand — and startled. "Fuck — you're colder than me, mate!"

"And for good reason. Come, now. Two or three quick laps of the room. I'll hold the lantern."

~

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead."

~ Wilfred Owen

Edwin had heard some truly hideous sounds in his time. Crunching bones, squelching organs, agonised screams. And yet somehow, the wheeze of Charles hacking up water from pulverised lungs was among the worst to date.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asked, hands clasped upon the table — lest he risk something overfamiliar like a pat on the back.

"I'm fine," Charles deflected, voice hoarse and unconvincing. "Just answer my question.

Charles was looking worse by the minute. The warm tones of his skin that Edwin had grown so fascinated by were receding under sallow grey. A new colour was blooming, in and around his eyes; in the puffy lids underneath, in the spiderwebbing veins across the whites.

This colour was not nearly so puzzling — the veins were a dead giveaway. Edwin had read more than enough crime literature to be able to identify the colour of blood.

So, this was the famous red. A bold colour, possibly quite charming in the right context; which this most assuredly was not. Edwin was no physician, but he'd read a number of medical textbooks. Charles bore all the hallmarks of a man bedevilled with internal bleeding. It was not a matter of whether he would die, but of what would kill him first; the cold, or the injuries.

He tore his gaze away. Anger, bitter and harsh, had him by the throat, had his fists clenching together until his gloves creaked. Who were those wretched boys, to lay hands upon Charles? To break him so? This boy who, insofar as Edwin could tell, hadn't a bad bone in his body? Whatever Charles was to him, soulmate or not (definitely, definitely not), he was his. He was supposed to be his, and soon he would be dead, and Edwin understood, now. Understood how people found themselves mired in Hell's fifth circle, swamped in wrath and rage. For no reason, no reason at all, those boys had taken Charles’ life without a care. Taken his life, and the colour from Edwin's eyes, all in one fell swoop. Soon both would be gone; and if Edwin ever found the hooligans responsible they'd have a formidable haunting on their hands.

"Nineteen thirteen, to..." he counted one, two, three, slowly. Collecting himself. "Nineteen sixteen."

"Bullshit." Charles cocked his head, a small smile of disbelief upon his lips. It was a charming expression, in its impertinence. "When did you go to school here for reals?"

"Nineteen thirteen to nineteen sixteen," Edwin repeated, slower. "I am dead, Charles."

Charles laughed. Edwin raised his eyebrows — and pretended not to be fascinated by the flash of not-red in Charles' mouth, his tongue and gums. What was the word for a light red, again? He was sure he'd read it somewhere...

The laughter died, and Charles' eyes went wider still. "...Oh."

There was more of that not-red than Edwin had thought, actually. The shells of Charles' ears, where the dawning light from the window glowed through translucent skin. He'd never considered that a person's ears might appear a different colour to the rest of them. How many secret tricks of the light had he been oblivious to all these years? How many more had he yet to discover? How many would he never get the chance to see for himself?

Just how much more could possibly be stolen from him?

"I... I dunno if this is, um, bad to ask, or what, but..." Charles swallowed. "How'd you die, mate?"

His lips, too, were redder than the rest of him; although that was fading, rapidly. Cooling at the edges. Edwin suspected that wasn't supposed to be the case.

"As I said," Edwin replied, sadly. "We had bullies, too."

~

"Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

~ Robert Frost

He had Charles move around again, though it was clear it would serve no purpose. He was delaying the inevitable. Charles was all but shutting down already; the occasional boost to his circulatory system was hardly going to bring him back from Death's door.

But perhaps Charles would beat the odds. Why not? He seemed a resilient fellow. Perhaps he would, indeed, outlast the night, see another day. Perhaps help would arrive. Perhaps Edwin could give him the push he needed to survive this if he only persisted.

Besides, he couldn't let Charles seize up and expire just yet. Charles had questions and damn it all, Edwin would answer them!

"Actually, you can move around any space however you like," Edwin explained. "It is not that you cannot touch things, you just cannot feel them."

A blessing in disguise, on occasion. Though Edwin had done his utmost to fill up this nook by the window with whatever musty blankets and futons he could salvage, he doubted the floor was comfortable. He himself sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bracing for discomfort he couldn't feel. It was far from ideal. But he supposed that a hard floor was the least of Charles' problems.

Charles was rapidly declining. That cool tinge upon his lips was growing more prominent, his coughs harsher and more visceral-sounding. But here, at least, he seemed as snug as Edwin could make him. Swaddled like a babe, tucked up against the cluttered old shelves. Perhaps this was warm enough to get him through. It certainly seemed warm, with the yellow light burning merrily on.

It glowed not only off Charles' skin and his eyes, but a myriad small reflective surfaces strewn about the forgotten nook. Edwin was particularly taken with the shimmer of it off what appeared to be a dented instrument — possibly a tuba? — near Charles' head. Metals had always looked very similar to one another, in Edwin's grayscale vision. Now he could see the metal of the horn was a somewhat deeper shade than that of, say, the earring Charles wore. Finally, he could see first-hand the differences between the precious and non-precious metals. Alas, he had few of them to choose from, and little way of knowing which was which. He supposed it safe to assume that the instrument was brass, hence its orchestral designation.

But the metal Charles was wearing was his favourite so far. It had a little of the yellow about it, but richer, more lustrous. Edwin found himself quite transfixed by the way it fluttered and flickered in the light.

He was familiar with the saying all that glitters is not gold, of course. But for want of further evidence, gold seemed as good a guess as any.

"It's stupid, but... I think I'd miss kissing," said Charles. He looked right at Edwin, earring and eyes twinkling with the motion. He did have... handsome eyes. Edwin simply must figure out what colour they were. Of a similar hue but different tone to his hair, to the old wooden shelves at his back. "Do you miss kissing?"

"Mmm-mmmm," Edwin mumbled, with a small shake of his head. "No. Not as such."

How many people had Charles kissed, he wondered? Surely not an abundance, they were of a similar age. Had he kissed someone this month, this week? Today? Before his lips grew cold and chapped, when they were... oh, what was that word for a lighter red? Pink, yes, that was it.

Then again, perhaps he went about with painted lips in every day life. He already wore some sort of cosmetic on his eyes, after all, so maybe it wasn't a stretch for a modern young man. Imagine. A boy, staining the lips of his paramours with lipstick when he kissed them...

Goodness. The world really had moved on.

Edwin cleared his throat. "No," he repeated, firmly. "No, I don't miss kissing."

He supposed it was fine that Charles liked it, though. And maybe he'd get the chance to do it again. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlive the dawn chorus, until the teachers noticed his absence and sent people searching. Then he could keep on living, and kissing and whatever else he wished to do and Edwin...

Well, Charles probably wouldn't have much use for a ghost friend. But at least Edwin could keep the colours. Just a little while longer.

Charles chuckled. It was a bit of a sadder sound than the last time Edwin heard it. "Must've had some shit kisses in your life, mate."

Edwin smiled, tightly. "Something of that ilk."

"Shame we weren't mates," said Charles. "I'd've..."

"You'd have... what?"

A smattering of colour returned to Charles' face, then. It might've been a trick of the light, but Edwin could've sworn his cheeks warmed. "I'd've... well, I'd've found you someone to snog, wouldn't I?" he laughed, drawing his blanket closer around his chin. "Got some fit mates from my old school. And the birds proper fancy the brainy lads."

Edwin frowned. "The... birds?"

"Y'know. Lasses. Girls."

"Oh." For whatever reason, Edwin felt... disappointed. And not just at the apparently abysmal state of modern slang. "Yes. Girls."

He cocked his head, watching Charles carefully. He was a very good looking boy. And he wasn't Edwin's soulmate, couldn't be, but...

Edwin cleared his throat. "Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look..." He wavered. "...Unusual, at all? To you?"

Charles blinked. "Um. Well. Outfit's a bit retro." His eyes widened slightly, a dash of mortification. "Not being rude! I like it! It's... it's cool."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I don't mean my outfit, I mean... have you noticed anything different about this room since I walked in?" he pressed.

"Well, yeah."

Edwin inhaled. "You have?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in closer. "What have you noticed exactly?"

Charles smiled weakly. "Well. It... feels a lot less lonely. With you here. Warmer, too." He chuckled. "Daft as that sounds. With you being dead, and all."

Edwin's fingers flexed on his knees — all he could do to stop himself hugging them, wretchedly, to his heart. "Yes," he agreed, dully. "Daft, indeed..."

~

"Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it’s loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star."

~ Kobo Abe

Edwin had only ever known one person ‘fortunate’ enough to meet her soulmate.

Aunt Florence had always been a bit of an odd duck. Flighty and fickle, a perpetual embarrassment to her brother — Edwin's father — whose job it had been to lend financial support to her spinster lifestyle. As she alleged it, she'd found her soulmate in the late eighteen seventies. For reasons undisclosed (to Edwin, at least) they had never married. Edwin had never had the pleasure of meeting her mysterious match.

She had always seemed very fascinated with the world around her, Aunt Florence. A trait she shared with Edwin; though while his interest lay in facts, hers lay in aesthetics. He’d seen her dedicate hours to the study of a singular rose petal in her garden. Edwin was told she could do quite beautiful things with oil paints, for those with eyes to see. They were passable, too, in black and white, but lacking dimension.

Once, when Edwin was about nine or so, Aunt Florence had taken his chin between her willowy fingers.

"What lovely eyes you have, my boy," she'd said, in a smoker's croak. Uncouth for a woman to smoke, particularly one of her social standing, but she'd never much cared what others thought of her. Her tobacco-stained nail had nipped his chin as she held him close. "Your mother's eyes. Sea green... You'll find yourself someone who can appreciate them, won't you?"

Edwin, of course, had had no idea what green was, and little desire to find out. Not if finding a so-called soulmate was the prerequisite condition. He was of an age where the fixation that grown-ups seemed to have on kissing one another was both vexing and perplexing to him. A phase of his life that, to be frank, he'd never entirely left behind. He'd extricated himself from Aunt Florence's talons as politely as possible, and given her a wide berth for the rest of her visit.

The next time he'd seen her, she had taken one look at his eyes, and burst into tears.

They all ended the same way, these soulmate stories. It was a law of nature. Death was not neat, or particularly fair. No matter how blissfully happy the pair, someone always had to leave first; and when they did, the colour left with them.

Some, at least, got time to enjoy it all. Before their love — and their colour — died away. A few decades, or years. Months, even.

Some, like Edwin, got far less. Hours, if that.

And some, like Charles Rowland, got no time at all.

~

"They're out of the dark's ragbag, these two

Moles dead in the pebbled rut,

Shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart —

Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.

One, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,

Little victim unearthed by some large creature

From his orbit under the elm root.

The second carcass makes a duel of the affair:

Blind twins bitten by bad nature."

~ Sylvia Plath

"Shut up, mate. That is brills."

Edwin was inclined to agree. Especially now he could appreciate the full effect. He'd been aware, of course, that his form seemed to partially dissolve into a mirage when he passed through solid surfaces. He'd been unaware that the mirage seemed to possess a certain hue. Not unlike the hue beginning to bleed through the filthy window.

The pre-dawn light was different to the majority of the colours Edwin had identified so far. It was colder. Greyer. Pale and stark against the opaque black silhouette of the distant treeline (interesting, how the trees still seemed black in this light. He wondered if he'd get a chance to see this green he'd heard so much about before the night was over.) If Charles' face was warmed by the yellow lamplight, it was cooled at the edges by the seeping tones through the glass.

This, like the red and the blood, came with an easy reference point. Everybody knew that the sky was supposed to be blue.

Seemed Edwin finally had a word for the sickly tint of Charles' lips.

"Why don't you fall through the floor?" Charles asked, puzzled.

"There are many, many, so-called ghost rules," said Edwin, sagely. He had, after all, spent several weeks conducting his own personal study and compiling the rules himself. "I shan't waste your time listing them."

"Well, I only asked about the floor, didn't I?" said Charles, a teasing lilt to his lip. Honestly, the cheek of the man.

"Because I choose not to fall through the floor," Edwin replied, in utterly falsified exasperation. "Happy?"

Charles had a certain way of smiling; one that spread up from his grinning mouth and into his eyes. Despite the cold, miserable state of the rest of him they fairly shone with warmth, a merry humour. A knowing gleam that said 'look at us, in on the joke'.

Edwin had never been in on the joke, before.

Charles chuckled; and Edwin did likewise, helpless to the draw of it. The magnetic sound. It had his lips lifting of their own volition — even as his heart sank further and further into the floor.

The blue devils, that's what his father had called it. On those rare occasions when he acknowledged Mother's low mood, or found Edwin weeping silently upon his bed. "You've just got the blue devils, my boy. Chin up, now, and soldier on. You've better things to do than mope."

He could feel them, now, those blue devils upon his shoulder. Cold, heavy, and the colour of Charles' bloodless lips. Weighing Edwin down like stones in his pockets. He hadn't felt hot or cold in decades, but now he felt as Charles must have done with the chill lake pressing down upon him, filling his lungs. And unlike Charles, he wasn't sure he possessed the tenacity to break the surface before the bubbles stopped.

He'd fought his way from the pits of Hell itself, and yet this climb seemed more insurmountable by far. He was no longer fighting his way from the dark to the light. There was no light above the surface of this icy water, no light at all. The light was here, the entire spectrum of it; above was only grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye could see.

"Oi," said Charles. He looked so very tired; but still inquisitive to a fault. "What other cool stuff can you do, then?"

Edwin huffed. "I can travel through mirrors, if you must know."

Charles' blue lips parted, breath escaping on a wonderstruck wheeze. "Wicked."

He ought to be more careful with his breaths. He couldn't have had all that many left to draw.

~

"We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth; it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death."

~ John Burroughs

Charles Rowland passed away in the small hours of the morning. Edwin didn't even need to look up from the page; he just watched the pinkish tint bleed from his own ghostly fingertips, and made a deduction.

Even before his passing, Edwin hadn't looked directly at Charles in some time. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. The colour in his ailing new friend had diminished all but completely, his skin a sallow patina, his lips a cracked grey slate.

Edwin had only come to know colour on this night, and already he could feel its absence like a hole in his heart. He understood, now, why Aunt Florence had dragged herself so mournfully through her twilight years. Going through the motions of existing. Colour, for Aunt Florence, had been life; without it, there was simply no point living.

Somehow, Edwin found his voice, and he read on. Because Edwin was no Aunt Florence, arty and flighty and prone to outpourings of passion. Edwin was his father's son; he soldiered on. No matter what.

But the ache in his chest persisted, despite his best efforts to quash it. There had been so much yet to see. He'd never witnessed the colour purple — an expensive hue of which he'd heard a great many appreciative things. He'd never seen a flower, any flower, in full bloom, or watched one of those famous sunsets.

In the end, he never even got to see what his aunt meant about his eyes. But he had no reflection anymore, so. Perhaps that one was always a lost cause.

On the topic of lost causes; there was someone else in this room with him, yet. Someone who'd lost far more than a fleeting glimpse of creation in technicolour.

""— I cease to believe,"" Edwin finished reading with a soft, forced chuckle. To no response. He looked up to find Charles standing tall, gaze turned to the window. It was the first time all night he'd been without his blanket; and the first time he'd borne not the slightest shiver.

Well. At least he would never be cold again.

"Not enjoying this one?" Edwin prompted, gently. "Carrados the blind detective was just becoming quite popular in my day."

When Charles turned around, of course Edwin already knew what he would find. Knew what his own eyes would fall upon when they followed Charles’ gaze.

But knowing did not prepare him for the reality. The cold, desaturated tableau of Charles Rowland's demise, illuminated like a crime scene in the stark white light of the lantern. How a person so vital, so vibrant as Charles should be without blood and colour defied all reason. And yet there he lay; bereft of hue, and of life.

Edwin swallowed, and closed the book gently upon Max Carrados. "When you could see me, I knew it was too late."

Charles was silent. For the first time all night. Silent as the grave.

"But I simply..." Edwin hesitated. "I did not want to scare you."

In the corner of Edwin's eye, the lantern guttered and died. Good. It didn't seem right; all that light upon Charles, and not a drop of warmth in it.

"Well. Glad you didn't say anything." Charles' voice was stronger, now. How different he sounded, without the rattle of lake water in his lungs.

Charles looked at his hands. As did Edwin. How strange they appeared, in the bleak grey of Edwin's impoverished eyes. How unsettlingly close to the pallor his skin had taken on in his death throes. And yet he wasn't pallid, not in the slightest. Standing tall, unchained from his ailing flesh, he was more wholly and healthily Charles than Edwin had yet seen him.

"Doesn't feel like I imagined. Being dead," said Charles, thoughtful. "Feels okay, doesn't it?"

In truth, there was nothing remotely 'okay' about this situation. Edwin felt... robbed. He felt robbed. Because he would never know the colour of Charles' skin when it wasn't frozen grey, or beaten black and blue. He'd never see this Charles, standing tall in the dawning sunlight, the way he was designed to be seen. The way he was chosen, by God or fate or an impossible quirk of biology to be seen, by Edwin. Only by Edwin. For he was Edwin's, no more could he deny it.

And Charles would never see Edwin. Not the way Edwin saw him. Because by the time they met, it was already too late. Because in a wretched twist of fate, Charles’ soulmate — his unfortunate, unorthodox soulmate — was dead in the ground before Charles was even born.

And Edwin had thought Hell to be cruel and unusual punishment.

"I sincerely wish we could have been friends for longer," said Edwin, dropping the magazine and standing from his seat on the old trunk. "But Death will come for you, now. You should go with her when she arrives."

He turned, and began his brisk march to the door. What's done is done; and Charles was, unmistakably, done. Done in and done for, done in just about every sense.

So Charles would be off, now. He'd be off, and Edwin would just have to carry him, too. In his head, with his facts and his torments and a thousand tiny heartbreaks. What was another one, in the grand scheme of things? What else was there to do in this fugitive afterlife but keep his chin up, and soldier on?

"Well I'm not ready, am I?” Charles called out. “I don't wanna go somewhere else, yet."

Edwin faltered. Turned. Charles was watching him.

"What if I stay here for a bit with you, instead?" said Charles, preposterously.

"Then you will always be running from her," was Edwin's quick, logical response. But Charles was still watching him with those... those damnably appealing eyes, and he felt the need to defend his case. "Also, I'm not good with other people. And I only just came back to this school after escaping Hell, so. I'm out of practice, to be perfectly frank. So. When the light comes. You stay, and I go."

He smiled, tightly, and turned once more. There. He'd avoided mentioning Hell all night, but it was done, now. No boy with a lick of sense would —

"Well, I'm aces with other people."

… He simply could not be serious.

"Pretty chuffed you got out of Hell, mate," Charles continued, maddeningly blasé. "That sounds hard. Nice job."

Edwin turned on him, incredulous. "That is not how you make decisions," he snapped, taking a challenging step towards Charles. "Just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment!"

"It's how I lived my life."

Charles turned his head, looked down at his own body. Edwin couldn't bring himself to do likewise.

"Doesn't seem all that different now."

Charles looked at Edwin, unflinching. And what a different creature he was, free of cold and pain. Lithe but lax, eyes slightly narrowed in almost catlike contemplation of Edwin. He stood before a hellbound soul, near naked and freshly dead, and yet the easygoing slope of his narrow shoulders bore no strain.

He shrugged, nonchalant. White light glimmered from his dangling earring. "Looks like you're stuck with me.”

For a moment it was nigh on impossible to believe he hadn't seen it, too. Hadn't seen the spectrum unfold when Edwin said his name. Because how else could someone look at anyone, let alone Edwin, with such certainty? As if he'd never been more sure of anything or anyone in his tragically short life.

Breathtaking was not a word Edwin liked to use lightly. In fact, he preferred not to use it at all. Who had ever seen something so rare, so staggeringly beautiful they'd lost their breath? It was the sort of word Aunt Florence would have used; flowery and hyperbolic.

It seemed Edwin owed her yet another apology.

Light flared in the corner. Their eyes leapt to it. It was of no colour that Edwin could see and yet he could feel it, deep in his soul, he knew its shape and colour; blue. A kinder, softer blue than that of bloodless lips and dreary skies. The wild blue yonder that he was barred from forevermore; the one that awaited Charles Rowland with open arms.

Charles looked at Edwin.

Edwin looked at Charles.

Charles smiled, soul glowing lantern-bright in those dark, confident eyes. He didn't move, not towards the light or away from it, but he held out his hand. Planted like a tree, unbending, unbowed. His roots sunk deep into the loamy earth of life; his branches beckoning Edwin into their boughs.

Oh, thought Edwin, when he understood — didn't see, simply understood — the colour that had been gazing back at him all along. That's the word I was looking for.

~

Thirty years passed, fading into memory, and with them faded the sting. It was hard to mourn the loss of colour when one could scarcely remember what it looked like in the first place. Those fleeting hours blended and blurred amidst the grey years, lost to time; a single hand-tinted frame in a hundred miles of monochrome celluloid.

Though he tried to remember, Edwin struggled to visualise the yellow light that had bathed their faces; the gold that glinted at the cut of Charles' jaw. Pink lips, red veins, the blue stain of death. Such things were impossible to note down in a world of black ink and white pages, and his aide-mémoires soon failed him. The colours fluttered away into the past, scattered to the winds of memory like his mother's smile, his father's voice, Aunt Florence's smoky laughter and the roses she painted on the guest room walls.

But though he could not recall the exact shade of Charles' eyes, nor compare them to any other — not even his own — Edwin knew something about them. Just as he knew Death's light shone heavenly blue. And for once in Edwin's long and tormented afterlife, he felt truly fortunate. Because he'd been allowed to experience only a fraction of what the visible spectrum had to offer; colours he could count on less than two hands.

And yet somehow, by some stroke of luck, he'd seen the best one nonetheless.

~

"At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation - the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence."

~ Aldous Huxley

~~

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, my darlings 💛 Love to hear your thoughts! Reminder to check out Olly's amazing gifs! This one took a little while to come together, bc in my first draft Edwin's feelings/progression were a bit all over the place. But I realised that all the sections of the attic scene (not including the very first one/my inserted flashback about Aunt Florence) could track along the five stages of grief quite nicely and that gave me a good framework to loosely follow, starting in his denial of the implications and ending in devastated acceptance of what he's lost. As to why he didn't like, *tell* Charles, well, what would you do? Be honest? If you were a dead Edwardian ghost boy and you found out your actual soulmate was not only another boy, but a doomed one? One who isn't even seeing what you're seeing. Maybe he thought Charles wouldn't believe him, or would take it badly. Maybe he thought telling him would sway him unfairly into staying when Edwin believed he should go. I think he will tell him, one day. And Charles is gonna be PISSED that he kept it from him so long xD For the quotes, I tried to stick to things Edwin could possibly have read, so pre-1989 things, as I like the idea of him using literature as a framework for understanding what he's seeing. It was really interesting writing about colour from the perspective of someone with no reference for it! Some of the quotes might have ended up anachronistic by a couple of years, tbh people are *shit* at sourcing their quotes and while I could source authors easy enough it was hard sometimes to isolate what specific book/anthology the piece came from, or what year it was published. If I'd have had more time I would have done more digging! Anyway, that's about all I got right now. I dunno when I'll be back, probably (hopefully) in a few weeks with the next chapter of Lonely Bones. In the meantime please, feel free to continue chatting with me in the comments, on my tumblr, come be a pal, I've had the time of my life with y'all this week and I'm not ready to get off this train just yet! Until next time! 💛

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hey! First of all, absolutely love your writing and art, it never fails to make me smile when you post.

I don’t know how to type this without sounding awkward, but I had a random platonic yandere/reader idea inspired by your yandere clone family au that I just wanted to get out of my system and figured you might enjoy.

I started thinking about Arla Fett (Jango’s older sister) in this universe. 

In case you aren’t familiar with her character here’s a quick summary: After the murder of her’s and Jango’s parents she was enslaved by the Death Watch and eventually developed an extremely damaging case Stockholm syndrome. She would act as an assassin for the death watch before being arrested. Later on a Jedi general-turned mandolorian by the name of Bardin Jussik would try to help Arla heal from her trauma but after she begged him to help her forget about it entirely, Bardin simply wiped her memory using the force. The two then fell in love and would have settled down (had order 66 not occurred).

So, then I got to thinking: what if these events happened a few years sooner so that Arla and Bardin were already settled down during the war. And how would the yandere clones react to not only having a blood related sister, but a Jedi brother-in-law, and their likely force sensitive teenager aka reader.

Let’s say the war ends and the various clone battalions are rounding up their respective Jedi but the group formerly run by Bardin Jussik wind up having trouble tracking down their long lost general who left abruptly during the war due to his issues with the Jedi council’s leadership and the republic’s approach to the war. 

They get to the point that TBB get called in to help find him.

Even after some time passes, Jussik doesn’t seem to be anywhere and most assume he’s dead as there is literally no trace of him anywhere. TBB eventually refocus their efforts on to other troublesome Jedi (Such as Kanan, Ezra, Vera Sai, and Nazra) who have at least been seen alive and well in the past decade.

Their efforts to track down the Ghost crew lead them back to Lothal since it’s a planet the Ghost returns to regularly. 

The rest of the batch spreads out to search for clues while Hunter brings the Marauder to a refuel station bc the busy marketplace gives him a headache and he just needs a little rest from constantly tracking. 

He gets there and he’s met with reader working the station who’s about three or four years older than Omega. As Hunter asks them to just refuel the ship he can’t help but notice the teen is sort of staring him down.

Expecting some kind of anti-clone sentiment or getting called sub-human he simply asks

“What never seen a clone before?”

Reader looks at him confused and Hunter suddenly remembers that Lothal never had any part in the war and most people on the planet couldn’t care less who he or his brothers were, especially now that the war was over.

Suddenly, almost like they can read his thoughts, reader starts looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but…yeah I guess I have been pretty rude just staring huh?” Reader holds up a hand in front of Hunter’s face and closes one of their eyes so that they can only see the non-tattooed side of his face. “It’s just- my buir used to show me holos of my ba’vodu and I swear you look just like him. I’m probably just imagining it.”

Hunter is taken aback by the comment and is suddenly very interested in learning more about this barely paid refueling station attendant’s family. He figures the kid’s dad and uncle are deserters like Cut Laquane. Reader’s additions of some mando’a into their sentences only seems to cement his theory.

The two have a friendly conversation and Hunter finds himself amused by reader’s wide-eyed curiosity about the world outside of Lothal as it’s very reminiscent of when he first met Omega. 

Meanwhile reader is just thrilled that this starship captain is willing to answer all of their questions about his adventures across the galaxy ( Hunter leaves out the whole capturing and lovingly imprisoning all of the Jedi of course). 

Reader grew up on a farm with barely any contact with anybody aside from their parents (the other kids on Lothal find reader creepy for some reason) so speaking with Hunter is a breath of fresh air.

Reader rambles on about how boring life on the farm is and how they were lucky their parents even let them get a job in town since they’re so overprotective.

Reader winds up feeling guilty for making Hunter uncomfortable at first due to them staring at him and then info dumping on him. Eventually reader offers to pay for the Marauder’s fuel as an apology for wasting the man’s time.  

Hunter and reader wind up talking for so long that the rest of the batch come looking for their leader, only to find him lightly bickering with a kid about how it’s not necessary for them to pay for his fuel for simply looking at him a little too long.

Hunter suddenly remembers he has a duty and mission to complete and goes into leader mode, discussing with the others on where they should land the ship for the night so they have a place to stay.

Reader casually offers the empty field on their family’s farm since they wouldn’t have to pay for it like the ship docking spots in town. Reader also mentions harvest season just passed and their father has a tendency to cook an excess of food. 

Wrecker is sold on the idea immediately upon the offer of free food and begs his brothers to take up the offer.

Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are made suspicious by the generosity and Crosshair is the one to ask what the catch is.

Reader simply made the offer in hopes of learning more about these strange off-worlders and decides to (naively) strike a deal.

“No catches, no fees. All is ask is each of you give me your best stories from your travels across the galaxy. Deal?”

The batch takes them up on their offer and soon find themselves following the kid home. As they travel, the batch all start noticing things. All of them had been around force sensitive children for some time now and had learned about the small habits that  most force sensitives had. Maybe reader answers any questions they have before the batch can even ask them. Almost like they read the batch’s minds. The batch quickly notice that reader’s reflexes are just a little too fast for a normal person. None of them really need the confirmation but Tech discretely uses a scanner to check reader’s medicloroan count and it’s a higher amount than most.

By the time the Marauder is nearing reader’s farm the entire batch knows they’re taking this kindhearted and naive little force sensitive back with them to Kamino. Now they just need to decide if they need to “take care of” reader’s family before they go.

They land and reader runs up to the house where their very confused mother is waiting in the front yard. Every member of the batch is stunned when they get a good look at reader’s mother. The woman quite literally looks exactly like an adult version of Omega. It’s almost frightening.

Reader’s mother doesn’t entirely know how to feel about the strangers (given she got her memories about the clone war wiped it’s likely she doesn’t realize they’re clones. Let alone clones of her brother)

Reader’s mother introduces herself as Arla Jussik-Fett. At the same time, Bardin steps out of the house and upon seeing the clones, freezes. 

Now, Lothal is an isolated planet, far from the republic. (Exactly the reason he chose to live there)

So Bardin had only heard whispers and warped rumors about what the clones had been doing. As far as he knew, Jedi and force sensitives found by clones were never seen again. Of course Bardin is going to assume they came to kill him and his family.

He never stopped carrying his lightsaber out of cautiousness and already has his hand on it out of instinct.

Reader notices their dad standing close-by and waved him over. 

“Buir! You’ll agree with me! Mom doesn’t agree but don’t you think these guys look like ba’vodu Jango?”  

All hell breaks loose after that.

 Clone force 99 is #shook and Bardin runs to stand between his family and the clones.

“Cyar’ika, ad’ika, go inside and lock the door.” He order, activating his lightsaber. 

Reader is VERY scared by the sudden tenseness that’s taken over. Bardin and Arla share a look and Arla quickly takes reader inside.

Bardin and the Bad Batch take a long few minutes to size one another up. After some time Bardin finally speaks.

“We will give you all one chance to turn around and walk away.”

Crosshair pops a toothpick in his mouth and takes a moment to scan the area.

“We?”

“We.” Bardin nods.

Just then the shot of a sniper rifle rings out. The end of the toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth splinters and is left charred as a blaster bolt just grazes the tip of it. The bolt doesn’t hurt a hair on the clone’s head, but is definitely WAY too close for comfort.

The batch quickly trace the origin of the shot to the front-facing window in the second story of the house where Arla is standing with a rifle pointed down at them.

Arla, despite having lived a fairly quiet and domestic life the past few years, is still a dead on shot. She was a very successful assassin for the Death Watch after all. 

Hitting the toothpick was a warning shot. Crosshair would have dropped had it not been.

“My riduur is right.” Arla shouts down from the open window. “He’s not really the one you need to be worried about.” 

Both Bardin and Arla lived difficult lives and as a result were very particular about security and protecting their home. They wanted to make it so their ad’ika could maintain their innocence. Unfortunately this resulted in reader being extremely sheltered and completely banned from learning how to use their force powers.

After a lot of struggle, Bardin and Arla manage to escape with reader by the skin of their teeth. 

So, TBB return to Kamino to share their strange news. 

They bring the name Arla Fett up to the Alpha clones and they’re vaguely aware of the name as Jango had mentioned her fondly once or twice.

The news quietly spreads around Kamino as a rumor. Some clones are absolutely enthralled by the concept of a new addition to the family. Others are cautious upon finding out Arla was once part of the Death Watch and are against the idea of bringing someone like her near their Jedi.

Some shinnies make the joke that the Fett genetics must give them a type since Arla herself married a Jedi just like so many of her brother’s clones. 

A few of the clones wonder if Arla shares their yandere tendencies. Some clones are already referring to her as Ori’vod Arla and joking about how they wonder if Bardin Jussik is good enough for their big sis. And then some clones just don’t care.

Meanwhile the squad once run by Bardin Jussik is ecstatic to find out their precious general was alive after all. WITH A WIFE NO LESS! Suffice to say they are stoked.

The news about Bardin and Arla’s force sensitive kid is far less widespread or just gets overshadowed.

Since Bardin is off the grid the clones have no idea where he would go. They ask around the Jedi on Kamino but Bardin was never very friendly with any of them. So they instead decide to see what they can find about Arla. Thanks to Emperor Vader the clones are given access to Arla’s arrest records and the subsequent psychiatric treatments she received while in prison. 

When it’s revealed that Arla was essentially enslavement by the Death Watch and used as a soldier it’s like a switch is flipped. Every last clone on Kamino suddenly realizes that the Death Watch did to Arla exactly what the Republic did to them. She really is their sister. A kindred spirit.

Cue the most quietly chaotic custody battle in history with various clone groups and individuals trying to figure out who gets to bring their dear sister and her Jedi husband home to Kamino.

It doesn’t really matter who does it bc the second she’s there she won’t be leaving. With the combined power of the entirety of Kamino it doesn’t take long to find the Jussik-Fett family.

And when they find out about reader? Their ori’vod’s precious ad’ika who’s force sensitive?!

Every single clone is obsessed and wants to be the best uncle.

Every. Single. Clone. 

(I have no idea how that would work out but I feel like the clones would find a way to organize it without completely overwhelming their ori’vod’s dear ad’ika)

Reader’s little family of three suddenly gets much MUCH bigger.

I can see Bardin Jussik being absolutely miserable after being wrangled onto Kamino. (He is absolutely not going without one hell of a fight. He is dragged in kicking and screaming)

The guy left the Jedi order in favor of a mandalorian lifestyle bc he hated the rigidity and hypocrisy of the Jedi. He hated how he couldn’t use his abilities to help more people just because the republic said he wasn’t allowed. Being constantly surrounded by the various Jedi artifacts spread around Kamino would most likely make him feel even more trapped than the bars of the cell that he was kept in before he finally calmed down and stopped biting any clone who would come near.

But he wouldn’t exactly have a chance to escape, especially not with his wife and child! The man would rather die than leave his family alone with the obsessed clones.

I can see him assisting in escapes, but not going with whoever gets loose. He always makes sure he won’t be tied back to the jailbreak so he and his family don’t get in trouble or separated as a punishment. 

(The clones quickly figure out the best way to keep him from trying anything is threatening to take his wife and reader away)

Arla would probably be conflicted about the situation. While she knows being imprisoned on Kamino is supposed to be terrible, she’s happy to be given a second chance at being a sister to Jango. Even if she knows the clones aren’t exactly him (mentally and emotionally that is). She has been in an abusive hostage situation before (Death Watch) but for some reason to her, this time it’s different…? The clones don’t burn a brand into her back like the Death Watch did. They don’t give her scars, don’t chain her up. They never hurt her. They are soft and loving, looking UP to her for guidance and making sure SHE is comfortable being called ori’vod and acting as an older sister to all of them. Many clones go to her for parenting advice and sometimes just to excitedly talk about their day or ask about hers. 

Arla’s mental health has been cracked from a young age. The clones somewhat use this to their advantage. Arla knows that what the clones are doing to the Jedi is wrong, but she also doesn’t entirely see the harm in it?

So many of the families living on Kamino are happy and healthy and everyone cares about one another. And Arla knows that as long as she stays, she’ll be surrounded by family and friends and love. She wouldn’t have to worry about armored soldiers bursting through the door and gunning down her family in front of her. Not again.

She knows Bardin is dissatisfied, and restless and she feels terrible for wanting to stay, but as long as she stays on Kamino, she knows her family is safe.

Reader starts off ecstatic. FINALLY having friends and family who understand them, and mentors willing to help them use the force properly. But before long they start feeling trapped again. Reader realizes they may have traded one prison for another. Lothal for Kamino. They still find themselves wanting to explore the stars. Reader eventually approaches ba’vodu Hunter and asks him if they can come along on the batch’s next expedition.

Hunter flat out says no. The Alphas are strictly against it. Reader asks around and literally every clone on Kamino says no to letting reader come along off world. It’s too dangerous out there for a naive little one like reader! They’re too sweet! Too innocent! (They are also literally getting close to being 18 and very much not a child anymore)

And reader finally realizes the mess they accidentally brought upon themself. 

one day they defeatedly walk up to Hunter, take a seat next to him, tiredly leaning their head on his shoulder.

“Remember that deal we made when we first met? And you promised to give me your best story about one of your adventures? I’m ready to hear it now…”

I’d love to know your thoughts on this! I’d love to know what you think would go differently. This wound up being a lot longer than I thought it would but I figured you might find it interesting! 

Your work is amazing, I think it’s SUPER creative. Please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have an amazing day!

I actually love this.

I dont have a whole lot.more to add except jango fett is still alive in my au. So that would make things extra interesting for aarla.

Also, Bardin and Vera would vibe. She orchestrates a majority of the successful escapes from kamino, and is glad to have his help.

[hibiscuslynx]

i’m sure they’re feeling normally about the sport (hockey) right now

PA not pictured he’s currently having a moment(TM) offscreen

very long ramblings about hockey and wttt under the cut:

i have an ailment called “i keep thinking about how wttt characters would react to irl events*” which is basically the entire premise of the actual series itself but i still feel insane for being so obsessed with it so anyway here’s my ramblings

*that i am experiencing. in this case: hockey

i absolutely think all the hockey-watching states (which, in my head, are all the midwest states w/ nhl teams, all of the northeast states. except for VT, NH—and maybe RI?—who only watch it every so often, washington, and colorado) gave mass shit for his team (the bruins) getting knocked out of the first round by the FLORIDA PANTHERS (who BARELY got into the playoffs) after their literal record-breaking regular season and the insane fucking team they had. wash, minnesota, chicago/illinois, probably gave him the least shit for it, in that order, but there were def a few remarks about it. the only one who didnt say anything was probably colorado bc he was the defending champion and got knocked out first round by washington LMFAO. but the northeast was RUTHLESS. i’d like to think they gave him sooooo much shit for it he couldnt even show his face around in the statehouse (outside of meetings) until new jersey got knocked out 2nd round. even connie joined in despite repeated attempts by mass to disqualify him from even talking about the playoffs considering connecticut has not had an nhl team since 1997.

i should add new york got knocked out like literally the next day so he couldnt give mass shit for it as much but at least he didnt have a record-breaking team like the bruins !

anyway ❤�� new jersey is not shutting up about the fact the devils beat the rangers until next season’s playoffs start. he is bringing that shit up every time he reasonably can.

okay, now into who i think each hockey-watching state is rooting for/bandwagoning now. the current matchups right now are: in the west, we have the dallas stars versus the vegas golden knights (which i’m calling vgk for short), and in the east, we have the carolina hurricanes against the florida panthers.

i should note that they are all very happy the cup is staying in america (most people hate vgk but the american haters r at least happy they knocked the edmonton (canada) oilers out)

(LONG LIVE SUN BELT HOCKEY AND RAHHHHHHHH USA USA USA 🦅🦅🦅🦅)

massachusetts: - no one because he’s salty and hates everyone (leaning very slightly towards vgk because nevada , the personification, is better than the others)

new york: - same as massachusetts. hoping for the canes’ downfall (the carolina hurricanes knocked out the new york islanders first round too. yes, new york has/had two teams in the playoffs (islanders and rangers). new york has THREE total. rip buffalo ily guys)

new jersey: - very much actively hoping for the canes’ downfall (canes knocked out the devils), so much so he’s leaning very slightly panthers except he would never admit that

pennsylvania: - he’s currently climbing light poles in philly and taunting the government (gov? the actual government of philadelphia? who knows) just to feel something. (the philadelphia flyers are a bit of a dumspter fire and the pittsburgh penguins missed the playoffs for the first time in 16 years) he can also not talk as much shit about his fellow northeasterners and their teams as he’d like because of the shit he got/is getting for the penguins missing the playoffs.

ohio: - the panthers because 1) florida of the midwest and the actual florida have to stick together yknow 2) johnny hockey’s best friend is on the panthers

michigan: - the hurricanes because he’s not rooting for/bandwagoning the same team as ohio

chicago/illinois: - i dont even want to talk about this man/team fuck them

minnesota: - vgk because he’d be damned if he’s rooting for the stars (the minnesota wild got knocked out by the dallas stars)(and the admin of the mn wild twt account started up a little feud w the admin of the stars twt account)

washington: - the stars because. do i have it in me to explain this twitter bit. hmm… no. tl;dr: the vibes

colorado: - vgk because nevada is his buddy !!!!!

connecticut: - the canes to piss off the rest of his northeastern pals (and he is a little fond of them because the hartford whalers relocated to become the carolina hurricanes)

in my heart of hearts i want north carolina to be rooting for his team so bad and actually rhe canes have some LOUUDDD fans so i think he gets to be the first southern state to actually regularly watch his hockey team and know the game. florida, as always, still doesn’t know what the stanley cup is. texas could care less. nevada is a casual fan of his team i think but i think theyre rlly amped up abt vgk being in the playoffs rn.

thats all <3 if u actually read all of this , 1) why 2) thank you i love you. feel free to talk to be abt hockey (and how it relates to wttt, or not!!) anytime :3

[droughtofapathy]

"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby

Broadway Flea Market & Grand Auction 2024

September 22, 2024 | BC/EFA | All Day | Event | Auction | 10H

To the relief of my bank account, this is the first time in three years that I haven't bid/won an auction item. Here's a little rundown of how the day went:

I showed up at around 9:45 or so, and it was already fairly crowded. I'm really not interested in fighting through the crowds to get to the tables, and most merch doesn't entice me. But I made a round just to see, and I can tell you it was very, very crowded this year. It's been getting bigger with each passing flea. I've seen a lot of people wringing their hands over it though, and I do have to say that it never at any time felt threatening to me. And look. I'm elbow-height to a lot of people, so you'd think a huge crowd would be a problem, but it doesn't bother me. I'm in Times Square a lot so this is just another Sunday. If you're not comfortable with crowds, I do not think you should go. The organizers will have to find ways to mitigate the crowds, but there are still only so many tables. Moving the autograph booth to another location would help to limit the crowding in Shubert Alley, but I believe the flea and Juniors have a generous agreement in place. This was also the first year in a long time where all of the theatres along 45th street were also doing shows, so those lines were adding more people.

I picked up a few Squigs cards because I like a guaranteed way to give some money without having more stuff cluttering my apartment, and I got myself a Mame playbill, but that's about it for booth-scouring. The auction itself is my interest. Several Sondheim estate items went for thousands, which is far beyond my budget. And the Chita Rivera Broadway Bear has to be my favorite one in the series. She's precious. But so many of the silent auction items these last few years have just been signed playbills and posters. I want the good stuff. Two years ago, I got the original Passion lobby board. That's the kind of thing I want to see. But the Merrily sneakers went for $11.5k, so...y'know. One woman's trash and all that jazz.

The grand auction was very organized this year with prior reservations sent out in advance. I was paddle #2 and got a reserved seat and everything. Very nice. Most of the bids were pretty steady throughout, leading to a record total of $520k raised in that auction alone. The highest bid went to the London/West End experience package (airfare and three West End shows) sponsored by United that sold for $26k. They doubled the package, and two bidders got it at that price each. The walk-on Chicago role went for $20k. Oh, and Norm Lewis stopped by to drum up some hype for his item.

In all, not the most exciting year as I didn't get to take home anything stunning, but still fun. I'll be there next year, parked in front of the auction with my camping stool.

Verdict: A Lovely Day

A Note on Ratings

[ravenwolfie97]

2022 Art Summary

it is that time of the year again, folks. this year has felt like forever and so short simultaneously. it’s felt like nothing and everything was happening. it was a weird year for me, probably because for the most part it was rather monotonous. but there were some good things to look back on, and as per usual i’m here to round it up here for you all to look at and enjoy :3

i’ll be honest. i was really worried about the art summary this year at first because these first few months were so sparse. i even considered just condensing the whole thing into quarters since this one was so lacking. but as the year went on, the more things i had to share, so for sake of brevity i will be putting the first three months up all at once

included in this quarter are assorted Cosmic Legacy character sketches, a Genshin Impact sona to continue the trend i had wanted to set at the end of 2021 (which i did not continue afterward), a lil valentine’s day present to my girlfriend, and a shiny form for my sona that was just part of a inside bandwagon. not much to say otherwise :/

the one major thing that happened in the first few months of 2022 was that i FINALLY. GOT MY HANDS. ON A NINTENDO SWITCH. I CAN NO LONGER MEME ABOUT BEING SWITCHLESS

so that was pretty exciting :>

the release of Pokemon Legends: Arceus is what broke me, but before i played that i started off with a blind nuzlocke of Pokemon Shield, which is what the lil digital doodle in March is about; i had just caught a Stunky i named Wasabi and i was indifferent to Stunky up until catching him where i just fell in love with it

so, AI art, huh? this was when it was burgeoning, and still fun and popular to make. so when i saw some people using a 3d pokemon generator i made a whole bunch and gave it a go. i generated about 30 of them and hadn’t quite gotten to around a third of that, but the few i did were really fun to draw!

(the lil gremlin one at the top corner is uncolored here bc when i did try to color it my brain fully glitched and screwed up royally so i opted out of showing my failure here lol)

so my friend Cake started streaming a game called Your Turn to Die with me and our partner Stacey during the spring starting in late March, and it was such an incredible time that i miss being a part of (if you wanna watch our full playthrough, the vods are saved on her channel here)

so towards the end of our playthrough i decided to try my hand at drawing some stuff because my brain could not simply hold all of my feelings for them

i am definitely not biased because i played both Keiji and Rio Ranger in the stream, but i sure did like them a lot, and it was really fun to draw them :>

had a lot of cosmic drawings this month, most likely due to celebrating the One Year Anniversary of the concept at the beginning of the month! we celebrated with a cute little collab. i happened to continue the cosmic train on my end by coming up with a funny meme video idea (that we will get back to multiple times later on) and i also worked on a couple pieces in preparation for an upcoming event in the next month...

I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO SIGN UP AND PARTICIPATE IN ARTFIGHT FOR THE FIRST TIME

it was a really fun event but i did not anticipate how late i would start my entries and how much time it would take to do them well, so i only got a few out, but i’m really proud of them! it was awesome to see all these brain children of random people from all around, and to get a couple responses back of my own as well! i’m excited to give it another go next year :3

i did not get a whole lot of art things done this month because MY GIRLFRIEND (and her roommate) CAME FROM OVERSEAS TO VISIT!!

it was such a great time being with them, and we had so much going on i didn’t get much opportunity to do much, but that was fine. one thing, related to my partner actually, is my pokemon gym trainer sona here! Stacey had been thinking about a fakemon region and wanted her friends as gym leaders, so i offered myself as a ground-type trainer, since it’s one of my favorite types and is rather underrated

a little more work got done on the cosmic meme video, and a couple other lil doodles. not much else artwise, but an awesome month regardless :3

idk why this month was so lacking, cuz this is pretty much all i had lol

the one decent sketch of my sona being angy was inspired by a post i found on here that was like... if you were a villain in a movie, what song would be playing at the point you would snap

and the choice i made was Faint by Linkin Park cuz it seemed applicable. and then my brain decided to listen to it on repeat and i ended up drawing that sketch. so that was cool :0

as per usual i do at least attempt to do an october art challenge, and this time i wanted to try this year’s annual list from Thomas Sanders, and it was pretty fun! i was really into it the first week, but then i got behind and after that point many of the prompts didn’t hold my attention, so... i trailed off. again

but! i do really like these ones in particular. didn’t really have much else after that so i’m glad i had fun with those

again this is p much all i had - november was a pretty nice time actually, with lots of gaming stuff going on with me n friends, but not so much art stuff was going on then

after having completed playing pkmn shield back in june, i tried my hand at pkmn legends pretty much right after that... and it didn’t quite click with me, though i did really like it. and then over the next few months i got back into pkmn go and that’s when i realized That’s more like what legends is about - it just screwed me up coming from a regular pkmn game. so, this month, i picked it up again and i’ve gotten much farther and much more attached!

in addition, later in the month my friends and i got back into playing stardew valley after nearly a year’s hiatus, and we made our characters based on the main trio in Cosmic Legacy, and so i drew Lalun with a parsnip. it was funny

and speaking of cosmic and video game things, Sonic Frontiers came out and i... did not get that one (though i will one day cuz it looks rad) BUT one of my friends got super into it and got me hooked on one of the songs, and then the part of my brain that associates fandom stuff with songs (a rarely triggered part of my brain) started to tie that to [REDACTED] here, as inspiration for their character. maybe. idk but the song gave me vibes that they could definitely have and i thought it was cool and i made a cool art with it too so yay

and here we are, at the end of the year! the sonic hype train was still rolling so i thought about giving them another go and they turned out pretty good! and i pumped out some more pokemon content at the very end to inflate this month’s art stuff a lil bit more

OH YEAH and that cosmic meme got finished just in time for crimmis! here is the link to that since i would not post it here

all in all it’s been. a year, to say the least. i am definitely looking forward to new things in the new year, but this one had been pretty alright. lots of fun and memorable things that hopefully i can continue doing similarly in the future :3

[hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon]

@enjoyer-of-shiny-things

Thank you for letting me tell a story.

So. Between the ages of eight and twelve, I went to 'summer camp' which was actually just hanging out at my mom's friend's house. Her name was Miss T And she is the nicest woman I've ever met in my time on earth. She ran a day care out of her house for about twelve kids between the ages of two and six. During the summer she also watched about six to eight kids between six and twelve and had us help with the younger kids/get babysat by two fifteen year olds from down the street named Bri and AJ (AJ was six feet tall and awesome, and Bri was mean and liked Gym Class Heroes and neither of them are further relvant to this story bc the events happened on a day they weren't there). The older kids were left largely on our own on days we weren't being babysat bc we could use the toilet on our own and walk to the deli and usually didn't hurt ourselves too bad, myself being the obvious exception.

Now this was the early 2010s so a large portion of our time was spent doing stupid things like trying to memorize and create choreography for Teen Beach Movie songs and watching the Stereo Hearts music video on Bri's phone. (Our other activities involved daring my frenemy Jalen to eat worms, watching cartoons in the basement, and visiting the horses at the farm down the street). We were all aware of Temple Run and associated games just most of us didn't have phones yet.

But one day this kid Darius gets to borrow his mom's iPad from home, and we all get to play doodle jump and cut the rope and temple run and Darius is suddenly cool even though he normally sucks.

I, 1. Hated Darius' guts bc he was mean to my little sister, 2. hated sitting still for extended periods of time. So the best way to get the focus off Darius and have us running around again was, obviously, to suggest to seven kids between the ages of six and twelve that we should play a game. We should play Real Life Temple Run. We are unsupervised and think this is an awesome idea.

It takes a few minutes to organize but the game went like this. One of us would be the adventurer guy, and the rest of us would be monkeys. If the 'adventurer' got caught by the 'monkeys', he lost and could get tackled to the ground. We ran around in circles in the backyard for like fifteen minutes and got through a couple rounds of people getting caught before we decided to add obstacles.

Inside of the house was now fair territory, (with a lot more collateral damage, sorry to like three broken mugs that we hid under the couch), and we're running in and out of the front door as we chase each other. Until it's my turn to get chased.

Now, I thought I was brilliant. So my great idea for not getting caught was to take another exit out of the house, running towards the porch and cutting back outside that way instead of through the front door. This was a bad idea because the porch door was old and metal and had a really sharp outside edge (you might be able to guess where this is going).

So I'm running, trash talking my friends, and I push the porch door open only to have it swing back at me at full speed and have the edge cut right into my thigh. And get stuck. In my thigh.

I had to be physically removed from the door by two panicking nine year olds, calmed down when I thought I saw bone by Miss T, and told not to stick my finger in the wound so that I wouldn't miss this opportunity to touch my own bone (i was not permitted to touch my own bone). My frenemy Jalen had a grudging respect for me because he threw up at the blood and I didn't so I was cooler.

Miss T banned us from playing Real Life Temple Run ever again.

We played it again two days later.

So that's why I have a medium sized scar on my thigh due to Temple Run and why subway surfers could NEVER be so legendary.

the thing is i've always hated subay surfers. it's been around since i was way younger and as soon as i saw it i hated it

[preparetobedissapointed]

Hello my fave potato<3 I would like to request a fic for twisted wonderland🦕✌️could you write a fic where NRC students sneak into RSA with the help of Che’nya ( there isn’t enough of him out there🥺) to vandalize it like rival schools do;) I hc that vil cuts up Neige’s clothes while Rook is stealing Neige’s stuff. 🥳Like it was a random thought one night while yuu is hanging out with the usual crew and they decide to go show those princes at RSA what NRC is made of and like everyone slowly catches on and tags along 🦟🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗(malleus is just like happy to be invited🥰✌️) p.s cater is defo filming the whole ordeal👀

No bc why is this canon? 👀

Commiting Arson Vandalizing RSA with the NRC students:

It’s fair to say that after the event with RSA there were a lot of negative feelings afterwards. Vil in particular took the loss particularly hard.

You felt bad about it too, but didn’t know exactly what you could do about the situation. You smiled awkwardly, and joked. “We could always just toilet paper their school.” You said, laughing, but when Vil didn’t say anything, you paused.

“How would we do that, [F/N]? I already did something horrible. I would rather not do something so underhanded, but…” Vil said, brows furrowed.

Your eyes widened and you grinned. You never were exactly a model student back in your world. You played pranks like this all the time.

You were only cautious here, because of magic, or your lack of it.

“First we’d need a way to get in, and it can’t be just us. We need a team. This is going to be a large-scale operation.” You said, and Vil nods.

You pull out your phone and text the group on Magicam.

[🦐] Anyone up for war with RSA? 👀

[Ace] What should I bring?

[Riddle] This is very irresponsible. Usually, I would be expected to report something like this, but I am upset about the loss, too. I’ll overlook it this once.

[Riddle] SHEHSJSKJjeue

[Ace] Dude? Are you good? I hear you screaming.

[Riddle] I’ll get mew all in~! This sounds like fun!

[🦐] Wtf.

[Deuce] That was Che’nya. Ace was right. I heard Riddle screaming that Che’nya took his phone. I’ll bring some eggs. Those are good for messing up schools. Wait, we’re seriously doing this, right?

[Ace] The delinquent past speaks up/j

[🦐] Ex-Delinquent 🙄 That’s why it’s past.

[Deuce] Yeah, get it right Trappola.

[Ace] I hate you all. I’m omw.

You showed Vil your messages with a wide grin. Vil raised a brow, and revealed his phone.

Somehow he had managed to convince Leona, the Leech Twins, Azul, Cater, Lilia, and Kalim to join, as well.

“Damn. Okay, then. Let me text a few more people.” You say, and shoot Malleus a text.

[🦐]: We’re waging war. Want in? 💃

[Malleus]: Another scheme? That must be why Lilia is in a rush. I’ll be there shortly. Silver and Sebek will likely come, too.

[🦐] : I hear it now. WAKA SAMAAAAAAAA!!!

[Malleus] : So do I. It gets quite old.

[🦐] : LMAO

[ Malleus ] : I will see you shortly.

You grin and show Vil your phone, and he offers you a nod. “Now, to convince the technological geniuses of the school.” Vil says, sighing.

You frown, “Ignihyde?” You ask and he nods.

He types on his phone, and frowns, before sighing.

“They’re in, but I owe Shroud a ten pull on his game.” Vil says, and you nod.

“He drives a hard bargain. Well, then let’s go meet up with the others.” You say and Vil nods, rounding up the Pomefiore students.

You sigh as Rook rambles on about seeing RSA in person and how the hunt is on.

Vil smiles, seemingly calm, while Epel raves about how exciting this is.

The three of you meet in the Heartslaybyul garden where Che’nya greets you with a grin.

“Look what the cat dragged in! Mew actually came!” He says, gleefully.

“The others are on their way.” You say, and see the familiar figures of Ace and Deuce, followed by Riddle.

“Riddle-Senpai?!” You exclaim and he smirks.

“Did you really think I’d allow my dorm members to cause trouble by themselves? Trey is on his way. He’s got a wonderful cake batter prepared. Deuce has eggs, and Ace brought toilet paper. Cater is running behind. He apparently had to grab a few things.” Riddle says, crossing his arms.

Vil smiles, “I’m impressed.”

Riddle smirks, “Of course, Heartslaybyul is known for being prepared.”

Cater runs up a few minutes later holding a large can of what looked like silly string.

“Sam actually had it! I saw it on Magicam earlier and absolutely had to try it out! This is going to be a hit.” Cater says, smiling.

Lilia approaches the group next, holding a box filled with scissors.

“Ufufu! The new generation is quite lively. I am looking forward to a good time.” He says, as you wait for the others.

Malleus appears in a green flash, and you smile, waving.

Sebek runs up a few minutes later, seemingly out of breath. Silver lay asleep on his back.

You recognize Ortho approaching, and Idia’s tablet hovering beside him.

Kalim and Jamil show up on the magic Carpet. Kalim waves cheerily, “Jamil is so smart! He thought we should have a lookout!” Kalim says, and you grin.

“Of course. Where’s Octavinelle and Savannahclaw? They’re not ones to run late.” You say, frowning.

Kalim is about to say something when a voice cuts in.

“Savannahclaw is grabbing Spelldrive disks. Ortho was able to find where Crowley hid them.” You look to see Idia’s tablet speaking.

“We’re really going all out.” You say, grinning.

“Koebiiii chaaaan! Of course we areee! It’s a war, after all!!! I want to squeeze a lot of RSA students!!!” Floyd’s familiar voice spoke up.

You notice the twins and Azul are carrying several bottles filled with black liquid. Azul catches your look and smiles, “Nothing so sinister as you may think. It’s ink.” He says, and you grin.

Leona, Ruggie, and Jack arrive then, their arms full of Spelldrive disks.

You grin, “Looks like we’re all ready, then.” You say, and Che’nya chuckles.

“Well, then~! I’ll show mew all how I get in.” He says, and leads you through a path behind the school.

RSA’s campus is exactly how you imagined it would be.

White, sparkly, clean, and in need of some new decorations.

You pause, before entering.

“Why’d you help us, Che’nya?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Mew’d be surprised how boring it is when everyone gets along. Plus mew’ll give us reason to get mew all back~!”

Che’nya says, and you grin.

Che’nya was a fellow prankster at his finest, it seemed.

You entered the school, grinning at the scene in front of you.

Ace had plastered his toilet paper to the statue of RSA’s headmaster, while Deuce was smashing eggs on the routes to the classroom.

Riddle was helping Trey levitate the cake batter, and the two actually managed to dump it on the school’s roof.

You grinned, and your eyes landed on Jamil and Kalim who sat atop the carpet, keeping watch. Jamil offered you a nod.

Good. No signs of any RSA students, then.

Epel and Jack were throwing spelldrive disks through the bushes out front.

Leona being a little more ambitious, used King’s roar to eat away slightly at the trees. The parts he destroyed spelled out ‘RSA: WEAK.’

You snort, “Oi! Leona! Ever thought about being a landscaper?!” You tease, jokingly.

He flips you off, and you laugh more.

You notice Malleus changing the school’s statues into gargoyles and grin, walking up to him. “I think they’re much better than those horrible looking gnomes.” You say, nodding.

He glances at you, with a smile. “Indeed. They were quite unsightly.” He says, and you grin.

Suddenly Jamil yells from his spot, “RSA students!”

Your eyes widen, but the sight that greets you is not what you’d expected.

Rook is grinning madly, holding one of Neige’s hats, while Vil is holding a pair of scissors (likely from Lilia) and a shredded pair of clothes.

The RSA students Jamil had spotted were drenched in what looked like ink, and Floyd had them both by the arm, grinning.

Jade, however came from the direction of the school’s greenhouse, his arms filled to the brim with various different mushrooms.

Floyd gave his twin a disgusted look, and tightened his grip on the two RSA students.

You heard Cater’s voice from in front of the school, “Here we are~! RSA better look out~! Remember like and subscribe for more livestreams like this.”

You blanched, he was really live-streaming this?!

You were honestly shocked, that you hadn’t been caught yet.

Ortho’s cheery voice spoke up, startling you.

“Don’t worry! My big brother cut off RSA’s wifi! No one connected to this network could see anything! Cater Senpai has a hotspot, so it’s not data, either!” Ortho says, and your eyes widen.

Vil really knew what he was doing when he recruited Ignihyde.

After thirty or so more minutes you headed to the front to meet up with everyone else and return to NRC.

Ruggie approached, his arms filled to the brim with various foods. “This was a great idea. Shishishi! Look at the food these guys live on.” He says, and you laugh.

“What will the RSA students do now, without their precious food?” You say, grinning.

Silver grimaces from beside Sebek. “I actually feel sorry for them.” Silver says, and you frown.

“Huh?” You ask, confused.

Sebek bears a similar expression to Silver.

“Lilia made duplicates. The food looks the same, but since he made it…” Silver says, and you grimace, as well.

“Ouch.” You mutter, as the rest of the group approaches.

Azul is carrying what looks like a map of RSA’s campus, and is giving it a considering look. The Heartslaybyul students file in, Deuce and Ace are arguing about who’s prank was better. Riddle smirks victoriously as he speaks to Trey. Cater is still on his live-stream. “Well, time for the escape~! Wish us luck with a like~!” Cater’s voice chirps out. Leona you notice, is already starting to doze off. That’s probably why you hadn’t noticed him earlier. The rest of the students show up, and you chuckle when you hear Vil threatening to scorch Neige’s hat, if Rook doesn’t pass his next exam.

All in all you had fun.

“Mew’re all ready, then?” Che’nya speaks up and you nod. You follow the same path back to NRC.

Your group freezes when they notice the two figures standing in front of the campus.

There’s Grim, oops. You forgot he was sleeping when you’d gone to see Pomefiore.

Ah, and that’s Crowley.

He looks mad.

“You all… You’ve committed various crimes tonight. You destroyed RSA’s campus, raided their kitchen, stole the students belongings, and your worst crime is that you did not think to invite your incredibly gracious headmaster.” Crowley says, and you laugh.

He’s not mad…!

He’s sulking.

“I’ll make an exception for I am gracious, given you include me in your plans next time. RSA will likely retaliate, after all.” Crowley says, and you grin, thinking of Che’nya.

“They will, but I think…This will be a lot of fun.” You say, and a mummer of agreement breaks out.

That was how the first prank war began between RSA and NRC.

There would be many more in the years to come.

[darling-i-read-it]

asjzkk i just saw that requests were open

can you please do clingy resi boys with a gn reader? feel free include any you want,, all i request is leon and ethan bc they are baby tysm <33

Hi! I just put my top three this time round cause I’m feeling lazy today lol. I hope you enjoy!

Leon Kennedy

- re2 Leon is a cling master

- he makes it his whole personality for a while to be a gentlemen and also never not be touching you

- he just wants you to know how much he loves you but also don't leave him because then he has to fend for himself and that's just hard

- he'll give you space when you ask but expect a bit of halfhearted pouting

- re4 and on Leon is a clingy disaster

- the boy it going through traumatic events left and right so when he sees you, there's no way in hell you're leaving his side

- it's less of a touching you thing and more of a 'where are you going? why are you leaving the room?'

- Claire sometimes jokes that he's overbearing and controlling which he hates

- he wants to give you your freedom completely

- but on the same hand, he can't really leave your side if he can help it

- even if you're just at a dinner or something, if you go to the bathroom he will too and he'll hang out outside the restroom

- you are clear about your boundaries and he will respect them, even if it pains him slightly

- but most of the time you just let him be his overprotective self and move on

Ethan Winters

- Ethan just...he just loves you

- after what happened with Mia he has no interest in letting you leave his line of sight

- he'll sit beside you with his hand on your thigh

- he'll have his arm around you while you're talking to the neighbors

- even years after the events at the Baker house, having you near him has become a habit he has no intention of breaking

- he just really wants to make sure that you're alright

- he stands up for you at all times

- he rarely lets you leave the bed in the morning, just so he gets a few extra minutes with you

- after the Baker house, he eventually does have to start going back to work and you were only able to take a couple weeks off

- that's the hardest part for him

- he texts you a lot just random tidbits of his day and they're always really witty one liners cause he's just l i k e t h a t

- he tries not to be overbearing

- he just loves to coexist with you

- which means sometimes he has his arms wrapped around you completely

Chris Redfield

- Chris is the only of the three who's embarrassed by how much he needs you near him

- he's lost far too many people to let you out of his sight

- even the simple things like walking down the street makes him nervous if he's not right next to you

- hell, he lost men when he was right next to them

- he just wants to have a strong arm around you, to let you know he isn't going to let anything hurt you

- he really does try not to bother you too much

- but he can't help it if his lips end up on your neck or his hand on your side

- that's just magnetic attraction obviously

- he's a big guy and gives the best hugs so you never mind having his arms wrapped around you

- sometimes you'll have full phone conversations with your head on his chest and his arms tightly around your figure

- he wouldn't want it any other way after all

- if you tell him to back off he will try

- but he makes no promises

[squish--squash]

okay no the dynamics are so funny here to me

it starts with a stag named Fety. He was an early follower, and one of my few hot-tempered followers; they were also gullible, and bc I wanted to get the 12 disciples achievement, I kept her around and then got attached.

Then there's Nona, a red hedgehog. She was one of my first followers, and has been by my side since (she's the first non-bishop I've given a golden skull necklace to, and the oldest living follower); she asked to be a loyalty enforcer kinda early on, so I allowed her to become one... This made Fety and Nona. Fight. CONSTANTLY. EVERY OTHER DAY THESE TWO WERE FIGHTING.

I TRIED EVERYTHING. I GOT THEM TO DRINK, THEY FOUGHT DRUNK. I SENT THEM TO THE MATING TENT, THEY FOUGHT THE LITERAL SECOND AFTER THEIR DAUGHTER HATCHED. FETY HAS FOUGHT HIS DAUGHTER MORE THAN ONCE.

Fety and Nona fought immediately after becoming friends, too. Naturally, I've made up lore in my head that these two are a married couple who cannot stop bickering. I'm too attached to Fety to get rid of him, and Nona is Nona.

My Webber was a coward. I had to chase him down and reassure him every time I saw him so he'd feel better :(

I have a capybara follower named Thorgre, she's one of the few first disciples I've kept around. Anyways, she asked me to put her and my deer follower Noanna (the DAUGHTER OF FETY AND NONA) into the mating tent. I said "okay", and with the power of gay sex my yellow cat (Joon, bc I'm unoriginal) was born. I'm returning to Thorgre later

Merjular is a red panda, another first disciple. and also the brother of Thorgre (canon event, had to go and rescue Thorgre bc he asked me to rescue his sibling). There's also Julbrety, a fox; I somehow confused these two. In my defense, they're both reddish. and disciples. love them tho

I have another capybara named Gregor bc lambment (ironically... he has the lustful trait). he's also Nona's brother, which doesn't make sense bc she asked me to get him like. 80 "days" after she was rescued (and since the followers age by the day, I read the "days" as years. girl. your brother should be DEAD). he's very chill tho, hasn't fought anyone. actually, he's recently become a father (I wanted all the follower forms....)

sozo's here too. cured him so he's dr sozonious, and I like his voice so I keep him around. he hasn't caused problems since I put him in the pillory and he's a disciple now, so (he's literally the only follower I've put into a pillory)

anyways. Thorgre's lost her fucking mind. in the span of two rounds of playing she fought Fety at least FOUR TIMES. IN A ROW. and then she declared her and sozo were now lovers (bestie?). and then asked me to MURDER HER. GIRL. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

Fety fights half the people he befriends - Nona, Merjular, and Julbrety are three off the top of my head. Gregor had a lover, a badger, but he had a child with Baazlebub bc they were friends and Baaz had better traits (and the badger was. dead.). I had a jerk follower jump me at the summoning circle once and stole over 600 gold - I sacrificed him to Midas. Saleos was also a jerk and Narinder made me resurrect him; I murdered him the same night. Valefar died right after I played the drum circle for the first time. Heket is the only follower with the celibate trait, and I've had at least 5 with the lustful trait at this point. Fety keeps fighting people. I made Focalor my tax collector, went fishing, and came back to find out the bastard fell in love with Narinder (I reloaded my save, and ascended him). My followers keep asking me to feed them poop and then acting like they didn't eat it. I had a mouse called I kept damning until the day he died bc he was against sacrifice. Merjular asked to wear the wedding dress and tux - he's the reason I failed my first quest on that save (I'm sorry dude, I don't wanna marry you and that's the only way to put you in the dress or tux). Last time I played when I went over to give Nona the golden skull necklace while she was farming she asked to marry me (I felt honored, but declined LMAO). Narinder is chill, hasn't fought anyone (yet... looking AT YOU, FETY). Every time someone dies everyone crowds the body so much I can't get to it and have to let someone carry it off to the morgue for me. I have so much stone and wood I don't need the huts, and my devotion bar fills up in less than 3 minutes bc everyone decides to be worshippers instead of farming like they NEED TO, I NEED BEETROOT-

I need to create a family tree for Joon's lineage, he's related to like. a fifth of the cult or smth.

the followers on my current cotl save are so fucking funny. I'm so tempted to make a lot of them into ocs to shove into aus bc it's so funny

[spencers-renaissance]

The Other Side of the Storm

Summary: Spencer & Luke are not out as a couple but have to attend the same FBI gala where a young, pretty agent insists on flirting with Luke. Misunderstandings and surprising reveals ensue.

Tags: relationship reveal, secret relationship, coming out, jealousy, caught, hurt/comfort, autistic spencer, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, found family, est. rel., cuddling & snuggling, domestic fluff

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Lets pretend I didn't just disappear for a couple of weeks bc I'm BACK now yay! This is written for a prompt from @ralvezhq who asked: "Ralvez is already dating but no one knows about them yet. they get invited to some sort of FBI gala and a young, accomplished female agent won’t stop flirting with luke and spencer is absolutely not having it so he finds a way to let everyone know they are together." -- I stuck to it except that they're caught rather than willingly confessing, I hope that's okay! I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you do as well.

!!!TW: the woman is very insistent on her flirting and makes Luke uncomfortable when she touches his chest without his consent!!!

“Any particular reason you keep looking over at that table full of Fugitive Task Force members, Spence?” JJ asks amusedly, sipping from her wine glass.

“Mm, I’ve noticed you looking over there a little bit,” Tara muses. “You got your eye on someone?”

Spencer looks down and forces a laugh, but he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink, and knows that he’s not gonna hear the end of this for the rest of the night. The team have never been fond of the FBI Galas they’re forced into attending every year, and unfortunately, Hotch’s usual stunt of pulling a non-urgent case from the stack and jetting off to some far-flung corner of the country to avoid it failed to fool the director this time.

He’d broken the news to them at the start of the week, and conversation in the bullpen has pretty much exclusively revolved around the event ever since. Even Penelope, who loves seeing people win awards and dressing up in her favourite full-glam outfits, has been significantly less upbeat. She only gave him one spontaneous hug all week.

None of them, though, have been dreading it more than Spencer. The others aren’t exactly fond of the faux smiles and convoluted politics and fake niceties either, sure, but tonight he has far more to lose than ever before. Namely, the man sat just out of his direct eye line at the Fugitive Task Force table.

Ironically, he and Luke had gotten ready for the same event together. They’d stood in the mirror side by side and tied one another’s ties in the way that always makes Spencer smile and Luke had gently brushed his hair out of eyes, but when it came time to leave, Spencer called a rideshare, and Luke drove the truck, arriving at completely different times in completely different vehicles.

The thing is, that as much as he loves his team, and as much as the FBI fraternisation policy has been significantly relaxed over the last few years, no one can know they’re together and have been for the last eight months.

Even the thought of Derek or Hotch or even JJ finding out — not only that he’s dating someone but that that person is a man — makes him feel queasy.

Which is why he smiles around an awkward cough and forces himself to meet the eyes of his profiler teammates, fighting every instinct in him to run, leg it out of here, never show your face again.

“No, I’m just looking at the clock above them,” he lies, and it isn’t smooth in any way shape or form but it’ll have to do. “You know I can’t wait for this to end. I haven’t read any Carl Jung in weeks.”

Tara laughs, raising her wine glass slightly. “Now that I understand.”

“Nah, I’m not so sure,” Derek grins slyly, “I think my man has his eye on some girl and he’s just getting a little shy, am I right, pretty boy?” He quirks an eyebrow playfully, leaning over to pat him on the back, and Spencer scrambles to recover.

“Believe whatever you’d like, Morgan,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips to conceal any tells in his expression. “Doesn’t make it any less false.”

Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by the Director clearing his throat into the mic on the stage as he introduces the next round of awards. Spencer loses himself in the anonymity of a dark room and a clapping audience, grateful that he’s avoided this round of interrogation.

The rest of the night progresses similarly. Spencer tries to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table — and valiantly attempts to keep from blushing like a schoolgirl when their eyes meet and Luke’s lips quirk upwards in an I-tried-to-stop-it-but-I-just-can’t kind of smile — and the rest of his team rib him pretty relentlessly about this ‘girl’ he supposedly has his eye on.

Hotch tries to get the team to leave him alone, but when a group of skilled, determined profilers all a little tipsy on wine and champagne encounter a friend’s mysterious love life, it’s pretty difficult to stand in their way.

Once dessert is served, though, things rapidly go downhill.

As much as he’s been trying to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table, it’s almost impossible to prevent his gaze from straying in a temporary moment of cognitive lapse every now and then, and while everyone is relatively quiet and occupied, digging into the Belgian waffle dessert, it happens once again. This time, though, instead of a small smile from Luke, he’s rewarded with the frankly heart-stopping sight of a young, pretty agent practically sitting in his lap, trying to feed him dessert.

He looks uncomfortable, and immediately Spencer is hit with an overwhelming wave of insecurity, jealousy, and an urge to protect that strangles his breath for a moment. He stares unabashedly, no longer caring whether anyone sees him because that’s his boyfriend and an extremely pretty woman is all over him and he looks like he wants her to stop, and oh my god, what does he do?

“Is that the girl you like all over that dude?” Derek asks sympathetically, catching onto Spencer’s staring. “It’s alright, man, if she’d choose someone else over you then she’s not right for you anyway. Why don’t you come and enjoy your dessert?”

Spencer senses the rest of the team’s eyes on him, but they don’t say anything, probably from a combination of pity, awkwardness, and confidence in Derek to counsel him through it. He’s hardly cognisant of that, though, instead a roar of emotion crashing through his mind, and he has no idea what to do about it.

When he sees a perfectly manicured hand land directly on Luke’s chest, though; when he sees Luke reject her more firmly, this time pushing her away; when he watches as she clearly gears herself up for some sad protest of self-victimisation, he sees red.

Before he can stop himself, he’s storming across the room over to Luke’s table. “Hi,” he says firmly, audibly pissed off and not in the mood for bullshit, “do you mind if I borrow my friend here? I have some official FBI business to discuss with him. Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs Luke’s arm and leads him to the corridor outside the main hall, Luke following quickly and willingly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks with his brow furrowed, his hand coming up to gently rest on Luke’s waist as he peers at him concernedly through the dim lighting of the hallway.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine,” Luke smiles reassuringly, raising a hand to Spencer’s face. “I’m sorry you had to see that. She was… persistent.”

“She shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that,” Spencer insists, still feeling distressed and anxious despite the immediate situation having been diffused.

“You’re right,” Luke agrees. “And she should’ve listened to me when I told her I was taken. I’m sorry you had to see someone flirting with me so openly like that, carinõ, I know you still get insecure about things like that.”

Spencer sighs, relaxing slowly the more he hears Luke’s voice as steady and strong and kind as it always is. He steps forward and buries his face in Luke’s neck as he nestles in close for a comforting hug.

“You know I only have eyes for you, right, sweetheart?” Luke whispers softly, one arm holding his waist and another tangling itself in Spencer’s loose curls.

He nods into Luke’s neck, but doesn’t make any move to pull away, just enjoying the warmth and closeness of standing so intimately with the man he loves until—

“Spencer!” Derek’s voice pulls him violently from his sweet escape from reality and horror instantly floods him as he jerks away from Luke, staring at Derek in a nauseating mixture of alarm and trepidation.

“What…” Derek stares right back at him as both JJ and Tara come tumbling through the doors behind him, looking ready for a fight—

Oh. That makes sense. They all saw him storming towards a woman they thought he had a crush on, then pull the man she was flirting with out into the most secluded corridor surrounding the hall. Even considering Spencer’s character, he has to admit that the circumstances definitely look like he was gearing up for a fight, and everyone knows that he is not the kind of person who could hold his own against an ex-military man who chases down criminals for a living.

“You’re… not fighting him,” Derek says hesitantly, the puzzle pieces clearly falling into place for him.

Spencer shakes his head minutely, and is only thankful when Luke inches closer and wraps an arm around him. After all, he has nothing more to lose.

“You were looking at him, not her,” Derek continues slowly.

Spencer nods, unable to meet the eyes of any of the three friends standing in front of him.

“You’re dating him,” he says, still sounding shocked, his voice almost entirely numb. “You’re gay.”

“Or bisexual,” Tara offers, and Spencer takes a little comfort in the fact that she doesn’t sound shocked or upset, her voice warm and helpful. He tries to meet her eye, but he can’t work up the courage and buries closer into Luke’s embrace instead.

“Gay,” he whispers.

“Spence,” JJ says quietly, earnestly, “why didn’t you tell us?”

It’s too much to go into right now, too convoluted and long of a story for him to explain when even choking out a single syllable takes a herculean effort, so he shrugs instead.

“We were talking all night assuming you were interested in a woman,” Derek says numbly, more to himself than anything, but Spencer watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes off the shock and comes back to himself, slowly putting more of the puzzle together as he looks at Spencer. “That’s why you didn’t tell us. We’ve been making assumptions all this time and hurting you in the process.”

“Oh, Spence,” JJ whispers sadly, stepping a little closer.

“I’m so sorry, pretty boy, I— I should’ve known or tried to be more inclusive at least, I’m so sorry I made you feel like this.”

The regret in his friends’ voices and the absence of a negative reaction brings him out of the safety of Luke’s arms slightly. His boyfriend is eyeing him with serious concern, and he tries a smile to reassure him a little, squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he manages, clearing his throat awkwardly as he finally succeeds in making eye contact. “It’s a long story and I’ll tell you another time, but, uh​​— this is Luke. We’ve been together for eight months, two weeks, and four days.”

Luke smiles fondly. “As much as we didn’t expect to reveal it like this, it’s nice to meet all of you properly,” Luke says warmly, shaking everyone’s hands quickly before stepping back to Spencer and interlocking their fingers, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss to his temple.

“I’m really glad you felt able to share this with us, Spence,” Tara says encouragingly, smiling at him in that bright, reassuring way of hers that rivals Penelope in the warmth and comfort it radiates. “I’m proud of you.”

Something about her reaction this entire time has him wondering whether she already knew. He’ll ask her later when he feels less like his heart is still firmly lodged in his throat.

“Me too, kid,” Derek agrees, smiling as well. Spencer wonders whether the initial shock and numb reaction was more a response to his own behaviour than anything about him and Luke, and the thought makes him feel substantially better.

JJ grins, stepping forward and grabbing Spencer’s other hand. “Me three.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the doors are opening again and Penelope is flying through them.

“Oh! Thank god you’re all okay! You just ran off after Spencer and I left you guys to it because I thought you could handle it better than I could but then you didn’t come back and even Hotch was worried, and—” she cuts herself off as she realises everyone staring at her, and slowly she takes in the scene around her. “Oh my god, I’ve missed something. Oh my god, I missed a moment, didn’t I? What have I told you guys about having moments without me? Someone tell me what happened, please, before I explode—”

“Alright, Penelope,” Spencer chuckles, interrupting her. He’s known her for too long to expect her to cut herself off when she’s on a tirade like that. “Uh, this is Luke. My boyfriend.”

“Your… your boyfriend? Oh my god, I finally get to meet him? Wait you told the others? Oh my god I’ve missed so much!”

“Penelope knew?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Half of mine and Spencer’s mutual friends are FBI Agents, and the other half are drag queens, of course I knew,” Penelope dismisses him, “but he wasn’t ready for me to meet his boyfriend yet or even know his name and I very nicely did not go hunting to find him out because I could’ve done that, but I didn’t, because I value you so much as a friend, Spencer, and I’m so glad you finally—”

“Penelope!” Spencer interjects, laughing even more as the tension and distress he’d felt only minutes ago finally melts away fully. “Do you actually want to introduce yourself to Luke, or do you want to keep rambling about drag queens?”

“Right! Yes!” she says eagerly, turning to Luke. “I’m Penelope and it is so nice to meet you, like you don’t even know how much I’ve wanted to meet the man who has my blueberry muffin blushing bright pink in the corner of my batcave while he texts on the phone, and I know you call him carinõ because I saw a text once and it’s the sweetest nickname ever, you are just the cutest, and we are going to be best friends—”

Spencer rests his head on Luke’s shoulder as he listens fondly to Penelope rambling and his friends chatting amongst themselves and everyone getting to know the most important man in his life — the only man he’s ever wanted anything long term with, the only man he’s ever wanted to actually marry one day — and a warm, sweet feeling of contentment floods his chest.

It’s far from the way he thought he’d feel after the team found about Luke, and he savours it, holds it in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing the memory and filing it away to treasure forever. A moment like this deserves that kind of reverence.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” Luke asks gently as they crawl into bed, tired but happy at gone 2am. He pulls Spencer into his side as soon as they’re under the duvet, resting his chin on his head as he always does.

Moments like these make Spencer smile, the kind of familiar routine that’s so essential to their relationship. Luke had figured out early on that close physical contact and firm touches make him feel safe and settle his racing mind, so they’d worked out positions that made them both feel comfortable, and now relaxing into them is second nature.

“A bit weird,” Spencer admits after thinking for a moment. “I’m happy that they know now and everyone took it well, but it’s strange. A significant part of who I am has been not only that I’m gay, but the dedication I felt to protecting that secret. And now that it’s out, it feels like something private has been bared for my friends to inspect.”

“I think that’s only natural,” Luke muses quietly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s curls. “It’ll take some getting used to, but you’ll adjust eventually.”

Spencer sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. After I tackle telling Hotch and Rossi, it’ll be nice not to have to hide it. I’ll be able to talk about you at work and maybe even go crazy and put a photo of you on my desk.”

“Wow, that is wild, check you out,” Luke chuckles, before they settle into a comfortable silence in the warm glow of their bedroom. Eventually, he speaks up though, quiet and reverent. “I’m proud of you, carinõ. I really am.”

The words instantly make Spencer smile, a light blush tinging his ears again. He hides his face in Luke’s chest, scooching impossibly closer into his arms. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” Luke replies, a happy sigh in his voice.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. His hand returns to Spencer’s hair and something clicks into place somewhere, a fundamental alignment of the universe that brings a feeling of something so incredibly right as their breathing rhythmically matches to one another and they slide into the welcome embrace of sleep.

I hope you enjoyed that! I had a lot of fun with this one. If anyone has any more ralvez relationship reveal prompts, feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto @cmily @nudgerox @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @downwiththedoorpoole @nomajdetective (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

[waters-and-the-wilde]

more s4 thoughts

ooooh i bet the thing Puck wants to look into is/is related to Nureyev’s creditors

also

they Did That with Diamond-as-foil/parallel to babey Nureyev and now i am dying to find out how juno reflects nureyev’s first love and what kind of light that’s going to shed on the age old question of ‘why the fuck did this idiot just hand over his real name after knowing our grumpy lady for all of half a day’

also

if we’re doing the round trip tour in Juno’s past maybe we’ll still get Cassandra? she’s out there somewhere and might even have an interstellar hauler by now, and if RUBY is planning to stay car-shaped she’s gonna run out of room if Juno’s building a rescue party, anyway maybe we get to hear the ‘Cecil kidnapped by mobsters and lost an arm’ adventure? Juno and Cass's friendship? we know they were party buddies at one point and also went through respective addiction recoveries and also i’m just very here for the ‘get in losers we’re gonna go fuck up Dark Matters’ kind of vibes

and I mean filling in all the backstory on things can be a hit or miss choice and it’s good to leave some stuff as Noodle Incidents (like the time Juno mugged the president of Venus! i don’t even care about the context that shit’s hilarious), otoh they’ve done a pretty good job so far about making allusions that hint at real events and then making sure those events are appropriately impactful when they elaborate and are super mindful of how people are shaped by their histories and it would be cool to put a few more pieces in between HCPD fallout and Murderous Mask

also

this isn’t a thing i’m anticipating it’s just a thing i want but -- finale episode or pre-finale arc part 1 opens with Nureyev doing a v-for-vendetta style broadcast addressed to probably Dark Matters/whoever the fuck else is listening, structured like his speech in Angel of Brahma, he’s got some kind of leverage and is using it to bargain for the Aurinkos (one might say he’s making a ransom demand???) and at that bit of the opening he goes My name is Peter Nureyev

and like. his plan doesn’t work obv bc Jet said ‘I know he is our family and I know he would come back for us and I also know that he will fail’ but I wanna see him try and I wanna see him own it and I want that to be how the others find out

I believe in two things about Peter Nureyev and one is that he’s a dramatic gay bitch and the other is that ultimately the trustworthiness shows up (and also that he loves Juno Steel with all his heart actually I believe in three things about Peter Nureyev)

his success isn’t the point bc that’s Juno’s job, his job is to reach that shift in perspective -- control your name and you control yourself, and that control’s been slipping the more he tries to keep it hidden, and I want to see him make that choice to reveal it because he’s found a reason that makes it worth it and then fucking goes for it in the most dramatic gay bitch way possible instead of getting backed into a corner or having someone else out him

and uh also I love that this is the kind of story where we’re more likely to get that growth instead of the ‘we’re gonna make his worst fear come to pass bc that’s how you do good writing’ like damn speculating about the plot is actually fun when you got some reason to think the outcome could be genuinely rewarding

[peterparker-pickedapepper]

Always You

(Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Stark!Reader)

Chapter 01

A/N: this is set during Homecoming (and eventually FFH) in a universe where Tony isn’t ☠️ bc we don’t acknowledge that trauma here 🙂 also, there are elements from the comics and the older movies, but it’s still in the MCU

———————————————————————

I never meant to find it.

And I wasn’t being nosy either. It was my dads fault, really. Okay so yes, I wasn’t supposed to be in his workshop. But is it my fault he just leaves important things lying around? Mom’s told him to keep it tidy enough times you think it’d be engrained in his brain.

Anyway, the how isn’t important. Not even the why matters. It’s everything that came after.

It was the day my world began falling apart.

The moment I lost all trust—all respect—for the two men closest to my heart.

Now that I know their secret, I don’t see how I’ll be able to look them in the eye. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to keep my head up, act as normal as possible...

And see how long it takes for them to tell me themselves.

———————————————————————

                      Three Months Earlier

“I’m here on the corner of fifth and main, just a street away from the reported sighting of a flying man causing panic among the locals.”

Y/N adjusted her fingers around the smooth base of the microphone, her skin slipping against the hard plastic. It wasn’t nerves causing the dampness on her palms, but excitement. Her eyes flickered from the camera lens pointed in her direction to her best friend standing behind it before easily finding their mark again.

“The large, mechanically winged man has been wrecking havoc in New York’s beloved neighborhood of Queens for the last—”

The ground suddenly shifted beneath her feet with a loud boom, jolting her forward and stopping her report mid-sentence. She twirled around, eyes instantly landing on the sandwich shop across the street.

Or, rather, on the man looming ominously from its roof.

She could only assume it was a man. She’d never seen his face—or any part of his body for that matter—not that his skintight suit left anything to the imagination. But the media affectionately called him “Spider-Man”, so they pretty much filled in the blanks on that one.

She watched as he seemingly surveyed the area. It was always so hard to tell what was going on behind that mask, but every time she saw him she liked to imagine a picture perfect heroic expression etched into handsome features.

It made her disdain for the local superstar a little easier to swallow down.

His head swiveled back and forth a few times, fists clenching at his sides, before he shot one of his webs and disappeared on the other side of the building. She immediately turned back toward her camerawoman, lips pulled into an excited grin.

“This is perfect. Come on.” She wasted no time in scooping up some of the equipment laying at her feet, but stopped short when she noticed the apprehensive expression staring back at her.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to run toward danger today.” Her best friend’s bored voice didn’t match the concern she knew was brewing just below the surface.

“MJ,” Y/N all but whined. “We need this story.”

“We need to get ready for next week’s debate.” She muttered, mild annoyance seeping through. “We need to be home in twenty minutes so your dad doesn’t kill us. We need—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Y/N huffed, tossing the last of the camera supplies into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned on her heel, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she moved toward the last crash that sounded a few blocks away. She was getting this story, whether she had to go alone or not. Screw her father’s arbitrary curfew. He was in India for the next few days, anyway.

“You’re serious?” MJ’s incredulous voice echoed from behind her. “What about Liz’s party?”

Y/N’s attention only wavered from the small screen in her hands once she was finished temporarily disabling the tracking feature her dad had not so subtly installed before giving it to her. He didn’t need to know she almost immediately figured out it was there, just like she didn’t need to know that he got a notification every time she hacked into the system.

Her eyes found MJ’s, wide with shock and following something in the sky above. Y/N’s head snapped upward, gaze locking on the flying man who was twisting and turning aggressively in an attempt to kick Spider-Man off his right wing.

“Yes. Very serious.” She huffed, pulse jumping with excitement. “If FRIDAY calls just, please, try to be convincing.”

With that, she spun around one last time before jogging toward the action. She knew MJ’s hesitation was coming from a good place. They’d been inseparable since middle school because they were on opposing ends of the same strong-willed base.

Where MJ was methodical and calculated, Y/N was rash and unpredictable. They were both the type to end up involved in sketchy situations, just at varying speeds and levels of grandeur. Y/N had her father to thank for that.

The iconic Tony Stark was not a pretender. He was who he was, loud and proud. He’d never apologized for it before—not even when he should’ve—and he probably never would. Y/N, on the other hand, had been pretending to be something she wasn’t for more than a decade.

He’d given her a choice when she was old enough for kindergarten. They talked about it, mapped out the pros and cons, and she made a decision. Soon after, she entered the outside world as Y/N Smith. It was the best thing her five year old brain could think of. Plus, she didn’t want her place on the alphabetical rosters to change.

She went to public schools—something Tony never missed an opportunity to mention he hated—and started paving her own way. Right now, that meant she was chasing a super-powered fight through the streets of Queens.

Since landing a highly sought after internship at The Daily Bugle, Y/N’s main priority had been impressing her overbearing bosses. That came with varying levels of complexity, depending on the superhero shenanigans of the month.

She rounded a corner into an alleyway, instantly ducking down when a blindingly bright object whizzed by her head. Her arms shot up in a protective motion as she leaned against the cool brick wall at her side. She remained there, frozen in place with a racing heart, for several seconds.

Something thumped to the concrete only a foot away from her crumpled frame, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She peeked through her arms, still crossed over her head, eyes widening as they landed on a pile of red and black fabric.

The lump groaned and slowly unraveled to reveal Queens’ favorite masked hero. He shook his head, the mechanical eyes of his suit twitching as if malfunctioning. Y/N was stuck in her spot, wide eyes hungrily drinking in every detail they could. Despite following his activity for months now, she’d never gotten this close to the mystery man.

His suit was tighter than she thought possible. It hugged his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The rippling muscles lining his torso were clearly visible beneath the thick material. She watched as he sat back on his heels and rubbed the side of his head, shoulders tensing as he seemed to finally realize that she was there.

“Whoa, hey.” Came his breathy, surprisingly high-pitched greeting. He cleared his throat before continuing, a steady hand extending her way. “Are you okay, miss?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in curiosity, not missing the way his demeanor changed the moment he noticed her. It was like a flip switched. He’d turned on his superhero persona, a process she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

“I’m fine.” The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended, but she was all business now, too.

There was no way she was letting him out of her sight without getting some information. She wasn’t even worried about all the ways her bosses would kill her, she’d beat herself up enough for the missed opportunity. She ignored his hand, dusting her jeans off and hobbling to her feet before reaching for her phone to launch the recording app.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Spider-Man?” She jutted the phone out in front of her, and he took a step back as if the device would somehow hurt him.

The eyes on his mask widened, something she didn’t know was possible. “Oh. I...uh—”

Just then, the ground shook with a massive impact that couldn’t have been more than a block away. It would’ve knocked Y/N right off her feet if it weren’t for the gloved hand that shot out to stabilize her.

“Gotta go!”

By the time his hasty goodbye met her ears, he was gone. It took about ten seconds for Y/N to process what just happened before she took off running in the same direction he’d swung in. She was too far in to give up now. At this point, she’d settle for some shaky footage of the fight. It’d be enough to satisfy her editors for a few days.

She ran out in the street, stopping abruptly as a stampede of people swarmed her. Elbows and shoulders rammed into her sides as she tried fighting her way through the panic. 

“Oh, come on people! Chill the fuck out!” She found herself shouting to deaf ears. 

Maybe it was because she grew up immersed in the superhero way of life, or her bordering on unhealthy need to get some kind of story tonight, but either way she was aggravated by the public reaction more than anything.

She was rarely scared anymore, even when faced with imminent danger. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good gauge for when she might be getting herself into trouble. Another thing she blamed her father for. 

Her eyes remained trained on the sky, watching the fight unfold in mid-air. She cringed as Spider-Man nearly fell off the homemade-looking flying suit. He quickly regained his balance, shooting a web into one of the back engines. It immediately started sputtering as the metal clanked and caught in the sticky substance. 

They were going down, and fast. She knew this was probably her last chance to get any kind of discernable footage of the event, so she reached into her back pocket for her phone. It was at this moment that someone decided to shove into her so hard that she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. 

A rush of air left her lungs as she hit the asphalt, hard. She couldn’t help but wince as pain shot up both of her arms. There would definitely be bruises she’d need to hide later. Thankfully, at least she ended up near the curb so she wasn’t instantly trampled to death by the screaming crowd. 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and huffed, wiping away the tiny rocks that were now embedded into her palms. She was about to hobble to her feet and call tonight a wash when her eyes landed on a blueish-purple glow coming from a nearby alley.

Maybe she wouldn’t get any useable footage tonight, but a souvenir would lift her spirits and, hopefully, her credibility in the office. Without wasting anymore time, she stumbled to her feet and ducked into the darkness of the cramped space.

She followed the pulsating light, stopping only when her eyes landed on a small, metallic object. It had a thin silver cage protecting what looked like a gem or rock of some kind. Nothing too crazy, aside from the whole glowing thing. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she crouched down to get a better view. 

She had absolutely no idea what it was, and she’d seen a lot of weird things in her dads workshop. The only thing she could compare it to was some of the alien technology that’d been leftover from the Battle of New York. She’d run a few stories about that herself, plus saw her dad tinkering with some things since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Figuring she could show it to him at the very least, she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand and grabbed it. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder and quickly unzipped it before sliding the object inside. 

Just then, the sound of screeching metal filled her ears at a deafening volume. She managed to close her bag before covering her ears and ducking against the brick alley wall. The crowd still surrounding the area screamed in horror.

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird-man landed on the rooftop just a few feet away from her crouched form. It was the closest she’d been to the masked—villain? She wasn’t sure—and he was far more intimidating than she’d first assumed.

His glowing beady green eyes didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he slung Spider-Man over the edge of the building, the tip of one of his wings wrapped around his throat.

An involuntary gasp tore through her chest.

It wasn’t that she was worried about the hero. For one, she knew he was more than capable of fending for himself. It wasn’t even that she cared if he got hurt. He was mostly an annoyance to her, his illusive nature making her job way harder than usual.

But if she knew one thing in this moment, it was that the bird-man was the bad guy, and she couldn’t let him win.

So, she did something really stupid.

She found the closest thing that she thought might actually do any kind of damage—which was, unfortunately, an old bike helmet next to the dumpster—and chucked it at the pair.

It hit one of the metal wings with a pathetic clink and all three of them froze.

Y/N held her breath as the man’s head turned in her direction slowly. Way too slowly. Like ‘I’m going to really enjoy killing you’ slowly.

After that, everything happened impossibly fast.

“Hey! Watch out!” 

She barely had time to recognize the panicked voice before she was flying. Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t even scream, overcome with sudden vertigo. She pinched her eyes shut the second she saw the top of a building and clutched onto whatever was carrying her away. 

If it was the weird bird guy, she accepted whatever evil plan he had. But, if it was Spider-Man, she was going to kill him.

It must’ve only been seconds before her feet touched solid ground, but it felt like an eternity to her. The moment she felt the stability beneath her, she began fighting against her captor.

“Let me go! Oh my god. If you don’t put me down right now—”

“What the hell—ow!”

Once she was free, she staggered away from him with a huff. She cleared the hair out of her eyes and bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding wildly and her stomach was still doing summer-salts.

She raised her eyes to send a withering glare toward the masked man. “Never do that shit again.”

He stared at her—at least she assumed—for a long moment before taking a step forward.

“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” He gestured wildly with his hands, clearly agitated.

“That’s one way to thank me for saving your life.” Y/N ground out, sounding way more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“Saving my—” The eyes on his mask narrowed incredulously. “You did not save my life. All you did was distract me and put like ten other people in danger.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Please. Spare me the morality speech, Spider-Man. We both know you don’t bother worrying about people like me.”

Y/N was all too familiar with how superheroes think. When they’re in the middle of a fight, all they care about is winning. They usually have a bigger mission to accomplish. One that doesn’t concern itself with the lives left behind.

“People like you are all I worry about, trust me.”

With that harsh declaration, a heavy silence fell between them. Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, biting her tongue to prevent the floodgates from opening. Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who deserved her hostility toward superheroes, he just happened to be the one in front of her now.

Instead of speaking her mind, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. At this point, it was late. The sun had set and her dad surely knew she wasn’t home when she promised. She had to accept that today just wasn’t her day and head back for some damage control.

Peter, feeling his chest tighten with regret for the way he’d snapped, followed closely behind her quick steps.

“Wait!” She actually stopped, something he wasn’t expecting, so he rammed right into her back. His hands quickly wrapped around her biceps as she spun around. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I, uh...”

He didn’t know what to say. This was the second time in one night he’d run into her, but he was still dumbstruck. The circumstances weren’t ideal. He thought he’d lost her earlier, but then she had to go and put herself in danger.

He took a step away from her, dropping his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. He had to remind himself that she had no idea who he was. Even if he did embarrass himself—like he usually did around her—she wouldn’t know it was him when they saw each other in the halls come Monday.

“At least let me get you home.” He insisted, feeling bad that he’d indirectly kept her out so late.

Y/N pursed her lips, immediately wanting to accept his offer but trying not to give too much away. Truthfully, she was exhausted. She just wanted to get home and deal with the fallout disobeying her curfew would bring so she could get some sleep.

“Alright.” She sighed, pulling anxiously at the straps of her bag. She knew this meant she’d have to swing through the streets again, something she wasn’t nearly ready to do.

Nevertheless, she allowed Spider-Man to walk toward her. She averted her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her back and tried not to let her breath catch when his gloved fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Warmth enveloped her as his proximity settled in. Under his mask, Peter’s face was burning. This was by far the closest he’d been to his classmate. Or any girl, actually. Not wanting to think about it for a second longer, he shot a web toward a nearby building and followed the directions Y/N yelled out.

Within minutes, they landed on the helipad outside her front door.

Peter felt his stomach drop with realization once he let his eyes wander around the outside of the huge building.

“Oh my god. Is this seriously where you live?” He cleared his throat after squeaking out the question, not necessarily wanting to give away his shock.

“What?” Y/N scoffed teasingly. “Don’t I look like a spoiled rich girl?”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, honestly. There were endless questions flitting through us mind at warp speed.

If she lived here, at the Avengers Tower, did that mean she was one of them? And he just hadn’t met her yet? Or did she work for Mr. Stark? But she was so young. He guessed she could be an assistant or something. Maybe she worked for Pepper? Or Happy? Or, she could—

Y/N rolled her eyes, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of sputtering any more. “My dad is famous...like helped form the Avengers famous.”

Peter’s mind went blank. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Cap?” It was the first name to spill out of his mouth. “Wait, can he even have kids?”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his assumption. “He totally can, but no.”

“Oh.” The gears of his brain started turning again and realization slowly dawned on him. He felt his throat run dry as his eyes widened behind his mask. “Oh.”

Shit. This was way worse. He couldn’t believe he had no idea who she really was. Sure, she used a different last name at school, but he should’ve seen the resemblance sooner.

“Look, I know you two have worked together.” Y/N sighed, thinking back to all those weeks her dad was gone fighting Steve and the rest of his friends for no real reason. “Can you just...not tell him about this?”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn’t she want Mr. Stark knowing that she’d been with him?

Either way, he agreed, since he had a favor to ask of his own. “Only if you won’t.”

She gave him this dumbfounded look, and he knew he had to elaborate.

“He made me this suit before the whole thing with Captain America, so I thought he would keep giving me missions, but now it’s been months and he won’t return my calls. I’m lucky if I get through to Happy. He doesn’t want me getting involved in this stuff, so...”

It struck Y/N then how weird it was to hear a superhero talk about her family so casually. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them were in the same circles. Sure, she’d practically grown up with a few of the world’s most famous heroes, but somehow Spider-Man was different.

He was local. And elusive. A pure mystery to her.

“What exactly is this stuff?” She thought back to the weird glowing object in her bag, having almost forgotten it was there.

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head, seemingly defeated. “I thought it was just neighborhood stuff, but those guns...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alien tech.” Y/N said without hesitation, although she wasn’t actually positive that’s what it was. “My dad has some in his workshop. It was leftover from the Battle of New York.”

“How does it work?” Peter found himself asking excitedly, easily pushing all the other revelations from this conversation to the back of his mind.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, looking away from him as her chest tightened with emotion. “I’ve never gotten close enough to any of it to see. He likes to keep me out of things too...”

It was at that moment, as a breath of silence settled between them, that they realized she was still in his arms. Y/N’s face erupted with heat and she quickly pushed herself away from him. Once her feet were back on the ground, they both stepped backward to create some much needed distance.

“I, ah...better get back...”

“Yeah, yeah. I have to go too...”

They looked at each other for a few long moments. It was at if neither of them truly wanted to separate, but knew they had to. It was clear, though, that they’d just formed some kind of connection.

Y/N felt something strange—and wildly inappropriate—brewing in her chest. A certain kind of attraction toward the masked hero she’d never considered before. It appalled her, honestly. It wasn’t like she hated the guy, but she certainly didn’t like him. And she had no idea who he was. He could be eight years old, for all she knew.

With that realization, she turned on her heel and stalked down the narrow entrance to the Avengers Tower, her face still burning. She heard the thwip of Spider-Man’s webbing and knew he’d be gone if she looked back. So she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the touchpad outside the front door and quickly slipped inside once it recognized her prints. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back against the door, the comfort of home enveloping her.

The peace was short lived, however, as she caught sight of her mother waiting expectantly behind the bar to her left. With a glass of red wine in hand, her knowing gaze shifted from the helipad outside to Y/N’s stiff frame.

She took a slow sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of the glass.

“You’re so grounded.”

———————————————————————

let me know what you think!! should I continue this series??

[honeypirate]

This is pro hero AU. Everyone is aged up and in my mind like all 23/24

Event Masterlist

Kirishima x fem reader, best friends to lovers, smoke sesh

Summary: monthly get together with your hero friends from high school, but you’re most excited to see the man you’ve been crushing on since graduation. Friends to lovers with happy tears bc weed makes me want to cry with joy sometimes and I know that Kirishima would be so sweet if his love was reciprocated.

Warning:! It’s a little suggestive at the end!! Kiri gets a boner!! Weed makes people horknee

You put your car in park outside of Kaminari’s apartment, excited to see your friends after a long hard month. Nerves are twisting around in your belly, anxiety from being able to finally see the man you were secretly in love with.

Since the end of high school you’ve all been amazing friends, bonding in your last year over smoking weed and having a tradition that stuck even now.

Once a month you’d smoke together and have a sleepover in someone’s room(but now apartment), always rotating rooms/person who brings the weed. This month you were in charge of the drugs and Kaminari was in charge of hosting.

You knock a few times on the door and several voices yell ‘come in’ making you think of high school and bringing a smile to your face.

“Hey guys!” You say when you walk inside

“Y/n!” Kaminari yells

“Y/n’s here!” Sero says and hops from the couch to come hug you

“Who’s here?!” Shinsou shouts somewhere deeper in the apartment

“Y/n Is!” Mina says excitedly as she gets up from the couch with Hagakure who both run to hug you after Sero lets go.

“Hey y/n” Shinsou says with a head nod as he exits the kitchen

Bakugou grumbles a hello from his place on the floor, back against the couch as he plays a switch game “can we finally get this show on the road then? I’ve been stressed all damn day and looking forward to this stupid shit” you walk over to him and ruffle his hair, he had new undercut and it looked nice.

“Good to see you too Kacchan” you say and he rolls his eyes gently pushes your hand away even tho his cheeks were a little dusted in pink. Oh how you loved to tease him.

“Is Kirishima here?” You ask, hoping your voice sounds calm cool and casual

You hear some things falling down in the kitchen and the sounds of scrambling before your favorite redhead comes into the living room

“I’m right here!” He says with an embarrassed laugh before he envelops you into a big hug, pulling you to his large chest as he holds you tight. You laugh and wrap your arms around him as much as you can, burying your face in his chest and hoping when you pulled away your cheeks wouldn’t be too warm.

“Glad you could make it” he says when he lets you go and you smile “me too” you say softly, your eyes sparkling

(Not pictured, the rest of the room staring like “I swear to god if they don’t get together soon...” and bakugous envious eyes)

You reach in your bag and pull out the black glass jar you use to keep your weed in. Your thumb brushes over the golden sunshine that was on the side of the jar and you smile, remembering when Kirishima gave it to you. You pull off the rubber lid and pull out a few joints you already had made, the smell of strong weed escaping the jar and filling the space around you.

You sit on the floor beside Bakugou and Kirishima sits on your other side, legs out in front of him and one arm behind him as he leaned subtly toward you. Sero sat next to Kiri, Kaminari next, then Shinsou, Hagakure, and Mina to round out the circle all lounging on the couch.

You hand the first one to Bakugou and he snatches it, placing it in his lips as you smile, holding out a lighter and he leans forward keeping eye contact as the end lights, sending your heart into a frenzy with his smirk. He knew how hot it was and abused his power, it’s why you could never fall for him.

He takes a long inhale and holds it “that’s nice” he croaks with eyebrows raised and a smile, holding in the smoke for another moment before letting it out. He takes another hit before passing it to you, Mina sliding open the window behind the couch.

You take in a lung full of the acrid smoke and hum, your eyes closing as you hold it for a moment then let it out with a satisfied sigh. “Yeah” you say and take another hit, passing it to Kirishima who winks with a shy smile when the joint leaves your fingers.

Him on the other hand. He was handsome and adorable but he didn’t abuse it. He was a good man and what mattered most to him was helping people and being a good hero, how could you not fall in love with his kind eyes and heart? Or the way his jaw tensed when he swallowed or the way his high smile looked, the way he texts you periodically through the weeks to make sure you’re doing okay, or the way he...

you pull your gaze away from Kirishima’s profile with a shake of the head and warm embarrassed cheeks. You were feeling just a little bit high and we’re staring and zoned in to just how much you adore Kirishima and how much joy you feel when you’re around him. get it together y/n.

You make eye contact with Bakugou and he raises his eyebrows with an accusatory look and crosses his arms. You laugh softly and cover your cheeks with your hands, looking away and pretending nothing just happened. Bakugou scowls but eventually gives in to the relaxed state the weed gives him, accepting that you wanted Kiri and not him and that it was okay.

After the joint makes its way around you pull out your puff puff pass card game and shuffle them before placing them in the middle of the group, the three on the couch sinking to the floor so they could reach as the joint finds Hagakure

“Kacchan.” You say “First hit equals first card”

he rolls his eyes before leaning up and snatching the card and reading it out loud “name all the cereal brand mascots” he reads and then flicks the card back down, it spins as it flies across the circle and he chuckles when it hits Kaminari.

“Uhhh” he says as he sits up straighter, taking the joint from Hagakure and pulling a hit as he thinks “tony the tiger” he says with smoke as he exhales and takes another quick hit, handing the joint to you and you tap the ash into the top of an empty soda can as he continues.

“The leprechaun fucker. Snap crackle pop. Toucan Sam. Trix are for kids bunny.” He continues to name them all easily and you are staring at him in shock for a moment before laughing

“nice one Kacchan” you say as you take a card yourself.

You take a nice long hit with a smirk as you hold up your card that says “puff” and Kirishima laughs, taking the joint from your fingers as he leans for a card “lucky lucky y/n” he says and then looks at his card, reading as he takes a drag. “Go in a circle naming colors until someone messes up”

he chuckles and starts off by saying “blue” the game ends when Bakugou says “Skobeloff” and you laugh so hard against Kirishima’s shoulder you can’t think of any more colors.

But what you can think of is how your stomach flutters and your skin is on fire under Kirishima’s large hand resting on your back, holding you close as you both laugh together.

The game goes on for an hour and a half until all the cards are gone and everyone is just high and chill, someone is playing soft music through Alexa and all the windows and balcony doors are opened, cool night air coming up as you talk and eat snacks that were brought out earlier.

“Come with me” Kirishima says and hooks his pinky into yours when your conversation with Mina ended.

“Lead the way” you say with warm cheeks and hooded eyes as he guides you to the empty balcony.

“It’s such a nice night don’t the bugs sound beautiful?” You sigh as you lean on the railing, looking up at the moon, the bugs in the park below seeming to sing to you.

“I’ve missed you so much” he admits with a shy laugh and when you turn to look at him his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are on the floor as he scratches behind his head.

“You have?” You ask, unable to hide the happiness and smile in your voice and he looks up as you walk slowly up to him.

“So much” he says with a shaky laugh

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes as you pull him close.

“Oh Eijiro” you say breathless into his ear, your heartbeat racing and body feeling like you’re spinning as his arms hold you tighter to him “I’ve missed you too” you admit and he sighs in sweet relief as his shoulders relax.

“I don’t want to go a month without seeing you again. You’re more to me than just a high school friend or pro hero college. Through school and now when we work together I just, I couldn’t help but catch feelings for you. Your wonderful personality and your kindness shines through every part of you and you are such a beautiful person inside and out”

He’s saying all this as he hugs you, less flustered without having to see your face and your heart is soaring. You feel your eyes well up in happy tears and you pull back, cupping his cheeks in your hands as he looks down at you with worry in your eyes.

“Y/n what's wrong?” He says and you laugh with a smile as he wipes your tears

“Eijiro,I’m sorry.” you say with a smile wiping your cheeks “Ive been in love with you since graduation and I guess it’s just overwhelming with the drugs” you say and laugh softly, your eyes burn from your makeup as you get it together.

he feels his own eyes well up with tears and he looks up with furrowed brows and eyes screwed shut trying to stop them

“Really?” He asks and his voice cracks a little

you take his hand, leading him to the couch on the balcony, sitting him down and sitting in his lap, straddling his legs and running your fingers through his hair. He sighs softly in relief, your fingers sending extra tingles down his spine with every pass through his hair.

“I love the way you treat the community like they’re your friends and family” you say and kiss his cheek “I love how you always remember the little things about me, things I never even realized I mentioned. Like when you brought me lemon iced tea” you kiss his nose and he chuckles softly, his cheeks turning pink and his eyes looking into yours as a few happy tears escape his eyes

“I love when you laugh, your nose twitches just a little bit and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen” you kiss between his eyebrows

“I love so many things about you, Eijiro. I’d love to spend as much time as it take telling you every one of them” you cup his cheek and kiss away his tears

“I love you so much” he whispers, his voice cracking again from the tears and he chuckles at it

You lean down and brush your nose against his, his eyes fluttering closed as he sighs happily “Eijiro can I kiss you?” You whisper and he nods excitedly as he cups your cheek and connects your lips.

His lips were soft, softer than you originally thought they’d be. His other hand rested in your hip and squeezes lightly as he bit your bottom lip between his sharp teeth.

You gasp softly then laugh when your body floods with tingles from his action.

Your tongue licks at his as he deepens the kiss, his hold on your hip tightening and your hands burying in his hair.

Your lips tingle in the most amazing way, your head was light and you felt like your whole world was spinning and falling through space as your tongues and lips moved in tandem.

You aren’t entirely sure how long you’ve been kissing him, your sense of passing time fucked with how high you felt, but when you leaned back you sucked in a big gasp of air with a smile and a breathless chuckle.

Your thumb runs over his bottom lip as you gaze down at him, his lips were swollen and you’re sure your lips match. Your chin felt like you got a burn from his stubble but you didn’t care.

“We should go back in before they come looking and find us sticking out tongues down each other’s throats” you say and he chuckles, his fingers carding through your hair and his hand on your hip had at some point moved to be on your back, his thumb up under your shirt with his thumb rubbing across your skin slowly as he held you pressed to his chest.

“I don’t want to” he says quietly with a chuckle

“Come on love, don’t tell me you haven’t been missing some down time with Kacchan” you say, his face brightening as you remind him about his other best friend.

“Okay maybe I want to a little bit but .. uhh” he looks away embarrassed, his cheeks flushing “I need a moment or two” he says, voice rising a few octaves at the end, hoping you understand what he’s saying.

You look at him for a beat before you feel something pressed to your thigh “Oh!” You say, your heart hitching and cheeks immediately warming “okay” you say and lean forward, kissing his cheek before getting off his lap carefully and sitting beside him on the couch.

You lace your fingers together and lay your head on his shoulder as you look up at the stars “it really is a wonderful night” he says as the cool night air blows.

You give his hand a little squeeze and sigh softly with a smile “yeah. The best one had in a while”

[lilmissbacon]

Why Jelsa is Ridiculously Stupid

Let me start off by saying that the idea of this ship was cute at first, I have nothing against it. In fact I have a few ships myself that have nothing to back them up. I am not making this to convince people to be anti, stop the ship itself, or spread any form of hate what so ever.

But this Jelsa fandom has gone too far. And when I say "jelsa shippers," of course I don't mean ALL of them, just about 80% of them.

In fact, I'm very appreciative of the few jelsa shippers who don't go around harassing others because "jelsa is life."

Also, allow me to correct you in saying that I'm not a jelsa hater, I'm a jelsa loather. There's a difference. Most jelsa haters, hate jelsa for the sake of hating it.

I genuinely hate it.

And don't go commenting about, "how do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?" Because you see, that's where you're wrong. I did used to ship it, when I was 11. I was a child, I was new to the internet, I didn't know better. But I do now!

I am writing this so that some who may not know, will now understand why jelsa is bad and because I need to get all of this out of my system. I am slowly dieing inside.

First; I'm gonna go into how all the excuses to ship this are pointless. Next, I'll talk about just how these two would never work out as a couple. Then, will be what the toxicity has done to not just to the ship itself, but to the big four as well. And finally, I'll go into how uncreative the shippers are and just what horrible/stupid things they've done and are still doing.

1) Excuses are Pointless

Excuse #1: They have the same powers.

...Yeah, that's like saying you ship Lavagirl (Sharboy and Lavagirl) and Bolin (LoK) because they can both control lava. That's not a valid reason to ship anyone. There needs to be actual substance and I'll only say that once because that sentence applies to every excuse here.

Excuse #2: They look alike

🤦🤦🤦 First of all: that's also like saying you ship Tiana (Princess and the Frog) and Frozone (The Incredibles) because they're both black. Second of all: no they don't. It may be because I'm an artist so I notice small details, but here's how it is; Jack's hair is white, Elsa's is platinum blonde. Jack has a square chin, Elsa has a round face. Jack is much paler! THEIR EYES AREN'T EVEN THE SAME SHADE OF BLUE!!! Your excuse is null and void. Even so, if characters do look alike, then they're most likely to be related. Especially in animation.

Excuse #3: Jack can teach Elsa to have fun and Elsa can teach Jack to be serious

This clearly proves the point that jelsa shippers don't know these characters. The job of teaching Elsa how to be social and have fun is already taken by Anna. So if anything, Elsa will see Jack as a younger brother. And Jack wouldn't have been chosen to take on such a responsibility of guardianship if he didn't know when to quit. I don't know what it is about playful characters that make people think they're obnoxious. Jack is an immortal teenager with the heart of a child, that's what makes him a good guardian. But he's been alive for over 300 years, he bound to have the mind capacity of an adult and he does know better. He doesn't play when he's in battle, he's dead serious.

Excuse #4: They understand each other because they were both isolated for a long time

I don't know where you come from but people don't really "bond" over their trauma. Infact, if anything, that would make the relationship more unstable. Plus, Elsa isolated herself for 13 years because she was afraid of her powers. Jack was forced into isolation for 300 years! He has never been afraid of his powers and Elsa could still be seen throughout the day by parents and servants. They would never be able understand what the other went through.

Excuse #5: They both have a sister they love

SO WHAT?! At least half of the population have sisters. Simple as that. It's a horrible excuse.

Excuse #6: They both have an enemy in fear

Bruh, almost every fictional character has to deal with their fears, literal or mental. It's not at all unique to these two.

Excuse #7: Jack can teach Elsa to control her powers

She already has control of them by the end of the movie. And even if you mean prier to that, the reason she couldn't control them was because she feared them. I doubt that even if she could see him and if he showed her his powers, she's be irrational, believing that their powers were different.

Excuse #8: William Joyce says he ships it

Really, you're going to base the possibility of a ship because the writer of the 'books' that "inspired" rotg says he likes it. First: the books and movie are not the same worlds. Two: he most likely stated this in order for jelsa shippers to shut up to him about it. And three: his own canon with the books is a mess as it is. With him adding a bunch on random/unnecessary details on twitter that have no relevance or reference in the books. Even if he does ship it, everything that's going on with Jack's character in the books is weird enough as it is. Plus he's physically 14 in the books. I know age doesn't really matter but Elsa would definitely feel weird about dating someone who looks so young when she's currently 24 by the second movie.

Excuse #9: They could've met before the events of rotg

Not a reason to ship them but whatever 🙄 Even if their stories were based in the same world (which it isn't), Elsa never would've believed in fairy tales. Having to grow up so soon and all. She believes in magic, of course, but you need to believe in the individuals themselves in order to see them. Plus it is very clear in rotg that Jamie is Jack's first believer.

Excuse #10: Now that Frozen 2 is out, they are both spirits who followed the memories of their loved ones. They can live forever together!

Once AGAIN, how does this factor to them being a good couple? Plus the title of spirit is different in the Frozen-verse than the Guardian-verse. Guardian-verse; they are un-aging beings who keep the entire world in balance. Frozen-verse; never confirmed to be immortal (especially since 3 out of 5 spirits are inanimate objects), magical things that keep a single forest secure. The only reason the elements needed a fifth spirit was most likely because the one before Elsa died of old age. Plus the idea of Elsa outliving Anna goes against the theme of sisterly love that both movies strive on. This can be changed in fanfiction but I hate how people lie about her mortality for an excuse to ship.

Excuse #11: They're both single

So what? People ship characters who aren't single with other characters all the time. That's not a reason to ship them. Especially since your statement is false because Tooth is Jack's canon love interest.

It is true that jelsa haters will give reasons to not ship that I necessarily don't agree with.

•Like the age gap — Jack has the mental capacity of an adult, as I've said before. He's smart enough to make his own choices.

•Elsa not being immortal — that doesn't mean they can't still date, even if he outlives her. Plus you can change that in fanfiction.

•They come from different studios and will never be canon — Again, this is fanfiction, we can do whatever we want.

•Elsa is independent and shipping her with someone takes her independence away — for one: most of the world is bound to find love at some point in time. I would imagine that Elsa would want to find love like her sister. Two: Mulan, Pocahontas and Jasmine are very independent and they all still ended up with men. Three: she's not that independent to begin with. Independence isn't relationship status, it's your ability to make it on your own and Elsa is clearly, very dependant on Anna and her safety. Which is actually what pushes her to being a bad sister in Frozen 2. In fact it is because they made her more 'independant' in the sequel that Elsa clearly, no longer loves Anna as much as Anna loves her (you can check out Watso Videos' video on YouTube about how Elsa is a bad sister bc I'm not gonna go into it here).

My god that was ALL just part one. This is gonna take forever 😰

2) How they would never work out

For Elsa, she needs someone who is calm and collected. A rock for her to stand on when she's being irrational. Possibly even someone who is very stoic and straight to the point but with enough sense of humor to lighten the mood. And now that I'm thinking about it, Honeymaren fits that description to a tee. I'm not one to push LGBT+ in anyone's face, but I'm not gonna judge ships on characters assumed sexualities either. Even though Honeymaren didn't have much screen time, her personality still showed through and Elsamaren could very well work.

Jack on the other hand needs someone who would be able to keep up with his playful nature as well as be a rock for him to stand on when he's emotional. Tooth is a good suitor even though I don't really ship it myself. Hiccup, Merida and Rapunzel could also fit in this description.

They don't have the ability to be each other's rocks. They can't be stable if they both need someone to keep them so. If they were to date, the relationship would crumble before it even began.

Plus Jack has to be a guardian and there are a lot of fanfics that go into this idea of Jack being the king of Arendalle? First off: I'm fairly certain that you can't marry into royalty to become king. At least in the real world. Second: Jack wouldn't be able to handle that responsibility with him already being a guardian. And he can't just leave guardianship either, it was what he always was and was ment to be. And Elsa has the responsibility of keeping a magical forest in check, she can't leave to become a guardian.

3) The Toxicity

Oh my God! The fanfiction! As I usually say, you can do whatever you want in fanfiction. But if you have to butcher all the characters so much in EVERY fanfic in order to make the ship work, then there's clearly something wrong here! In every fanfic I've ever seen, the characters are so out of character it's insane. Not just Jack and Elsa, every character.

Olaf for example, is practically in love with Jack first meeting, in every fanfic. If he were to actually meet Jack, he would be apprehensive of him.

It's horrifying in not only that, but jelsa shippers will add Rapunzel a lot, just in spite of Jackunzel. They turn Rapunzel into a needy ex-girlfriend of Jack's when in reality, she's a very sweet and kind soul. Even if she and Jack had dated, they would've split on good terms and stayed friends after. There have also been cases where they do the same but with Tooth. Sometimes even both and it's honestly sick.

And let's talk about the sexism as well HAHA! I swear to God, they will rewrite Frozen but where Jack will save Elsa instead of Anna. They write Elsa as a hormonal teenage girl who falls in love with Jack within seconds.

This is from an actual jelsa shipper, my dude. WTF!!! They make Jack super dominant as well as a douche who cheats on Elsa half the time. Jack is not that dominant, he's a very emotional guy. And he'd be the most faithful boyfriend on the planet. He was alone for 300 years! If anything, he'd be clingy but not too clingy because he also understands personal space.

And if you like angsty fanfiction where a character cheats on the other, there are literally no fanfics where Elsa cheats on Jack. As if a woman couldn't possibly cheat. This is very sexist towards men and women and is toxic as hell.

If anything, Elsa would cheat on Jack, she's not exactly trustworthy in keeping promises or being loyal.

I swear, half of the jelsa shippers has never even seen rotg and just go by what they read in others fanfiction.

Jelsa shippers have gotten so bad about this ship that they've low-key harassed people for not shipping it, as well as start shipping wars within the big four fandom. That's the reason the fandom truly shrunk after 2013. I've seen posts about people admitting to leaving the fandom because it got so bad.

4) The Shippers

Jelsa shippers have literally threatened lives, not just to other fans but even to the creators of the movies. Literally threatening them into making the ship canon. They've made patitions to make it canon as if that would work. They've even harassed a lot of recent shippers to Elsamaren because "jelsa is canon."

Oh look at that, they're homophobic too...

...

...

...

... That's great 🙃

Isn't it a bigger sin to love a celestial being though? Therefore the fact that you –as a toxic christian– ship Elsa with a spirit it worse.

THEY'RE DELUSIONAL!!! So many of them have shipped jelsa so long that legit think it's canon!

Not only all that mess but there are literally more jelsa games on the internet then there are Merida games. I'm specifying this for personal reasons (aka Merida is my fave Disney princess)

And let's continue on with what really aggravates me as an artist. Jelsa shippers, stealing artwork, mostly from Jackunzel. This is not just a rumor, it's very much real.

And it doesn't help when all of their actual original fanart is just them taking scenes from Frozen and adding Jack. Then to add more salt on the wound is that almost all the fanfiction is the same, whether it'd be based during Frozen, rotg or in a highschool au.

There's literally nothing original about or going on with this ship, even after Frozen 2 came out, the shippers and fanfiction haven't changed. If anything it made the shippers spike up again.

The only thing that could say is original about jelsa is the frost daughter fanon. Oh boy! What we have to unpack here.

This is something that I recently heard about...

...

I am mortified.

Frost daughters is this little thing that jelsa shippers came up with, believing Jack and Elsa (if they could get pregnant) would have nothing but girls. What's scary about it is they're designs. Like they're trying to be original... But it's not really going great.

Most of them are just young!Elsa copies, some are edits of Elsa with Jack's hair color.

For example:

This is fine, this follows genetrical rules. I'm fine with this.

But what has me low-key petrified are some of the other designs.

Like... WTF IS ALL OF THIS!!! Where are this colors coming from?!! I don't understand 😭 You can see in the screen shots that these are literally titled as daughters of jelsa.

The white haired ones are fine. The ginger is understandable. Got it from Elsa's dad's genes. That's okay. A few are wearing pink? They can wear what ever they want. But wtf I'd going on with Nevada? Why is she black? Jack and Elsa the pastiest of white! And you cannot tell me that she got it from Elsa's mom because this was made BEFORE Frozen 2 and her mother is still white as an adult.

Where tf does the blue and pink hair come from? None of these make sense!

I want to kill myself, just looking at these!

That's gonna be the end of this rant

Now I'll say it again, I really have nothing against the ship itself. I too have casual ships that make no sense. But with ALL the fanfiction and fanart being so unoriginal and most jelsa shippers low-key being dangerous, it's hard for me respect people's opinions about it.

I try, trust me, I do! But it's become so murky in my brain that I can't tell the difference anymore and I'm also just not a fan of Elsa's character in general. And I like ships that actually make sense.

And being that I'm an equalist... it's really hard for me to look at this stuff and not get pissed off. I'm sorry if all of this comes off as aggressive because it kinda is.

I'm just very passionate, okay?

I hope you understand where I'm coming from. None of the pictures I used are mine. And I hope you have a good day?

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 6: Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Finally, I write most of the chapter before the day I’m supposed to post it. This was mostly done on my laptop (which I’m not used to) as we just moved and my PC is barely set up, so forgive anything that looks weird or wonky. As always, I hope you enjoy. I love getting all your kind messages <3 (Also message me if you want to be on the taglist - I suppose I should be better about that!)

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 6, Buckshot and Tequila

Chapter Summary: Events during a new case test your ability to keep your feelings hidden, and a night out takes an unforeseen turn. 

Words: 3736

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

Turns out, lying to Hotch was easier than you thought.

It helped that you were lying to yourself too, of course - that you pretended your gaze didn't linger on his form whenever he was in your vicinity, that the swell of pride in your chest when he agreed with something you said was purely professional. There were times, though, that the facade was much harder to maintain. The most recent case had been one of those times.

You had been tracking down an unsub abducting children in a rural Iowa town. Three kids had gone missing in the span of two weeks, and after Garcia matched the victimology and MO with neighboring states, it looked to be close to a dozen in the years before that. The case started off rough enough - locals refused to believe it could be one of their own, police resisted the BAU’s guidance, the usual - but it came to a head when a fourth child went missing during the investigation.

Thankfully, the team figured out the identity of the unsub relatively quickly. Reid did a geographical profile of all the locations where victims were taken and found a public health clinic that had branches in each area. Garcia cross-checked the employee records to find that only one doctor had done travel shifts at each clinic during the time the children were taken, and within minutes, you were rushing to his address.

The SUV carrying Hotch, Rossi, and Prentiss arrived long enough before yours that by the time you pulled up, they were already kicking down the door and entering the home. The first thing you heard after you flung the car door open was the deafening crack of a weapon firing, and despite your lack of training with firearms, it was apparent that it was not an FBI-issue pistol.

You would never describe yourself as fragile - you couldn't be, not in this line of work. But when you registered the implications of that sound, your knees buckled, instantly bringing you down onto the dusty ground outside the farmhouse. The rest of the team sprinted in, guns drawn. You faintly registered Prentiss yelling inside, then more gunshots, but your head was ringing so loudly from the visceral panic that you couldn’t make out anything specific.

When Hotch burst back out onto the porch, you thought you might honestly sob with relief. That is, until you caught the glint of the sun in the slick, dark blood dripping down the sleeve of his suit.

That was when you puked.

Something about the sight of Aaron Hotchner bleeding felt so wrong that even as you struggled to your feet and stepped over the pile of sick you left in the dirt, even as you got closer and saw the rivulets of blood drip down to his fingertips and dot the wooden floors of the porch, you felt like you were in a dream. Your mind couldn’t grasp the sudden shock of his mortality, that he could bleed, that he could die, even, and he very well might, depending on what vessels were hit. You made it up the steps, only managing to call out his name - his first name - your throat still burning from bile. Despite the chaos of the current moment, he still whipped his head around at the sound of that, as if hearing the name Aaron desperately falling from your lips was more attention-grabbing than the rest of the team gathering around him trying to stem the bleeding.

“It looks worse than it is,” said Rossi, peering through the holes in Hotch’s mangled sleeve. “It was just buckshot, and he barely hit you. Nothing a few stitches won’t fix.”

He turned out to be right, thank god, and later that afternoon, Hotch was freshly bandaged and sitting across from you on the return flight to Quantico.

So, yeah, the “lying to yourself” thing wasn’t going so well at that moment. Hotch was absorbed in paperwork while the rest of the team napped - because of course he was; even being shot didn’t sway his apparently relentless refusal to relax - and each time he winced at the movement of his arm, your vice grip around your chest tightened a little more.

He must have sensed you staring, because he looked up, frown softening slightly as he saw the concern on your face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” he assured you with a half smile.

Teetering on an emotional precipice, too scared to respond for fear of falling over the edge, you went back to your reading. After a few minutes of listening to him write while not turning a single page in your book, he set his pen down and took a breath.

“You were screaming my name,” he said, quietly, despite you two being the only ones awake.

“What?”

“Earlier,” he clarified, “when we went into the house. I could hear you outside, yelling my name.”

You looked at him, incredulous. “Of course I did. I heard the shotgun go off. Clearly,” you gestured at his arm, “I had a reason to be worried.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, as if you didn’t understand the question. “Dave and Emily were with me. Any of us could have gotten hit. You only yelled for me.”

Oh.

You shrugged. “You’re the team leader. It’s my instinct to call for you when something goes wrong."

It was a lie, and a bad one at that, but Hotch gave you an unreadable look and let the subject drop.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and when you finally made it back to your apartment, you had no plans other than to sleep off the stress of the case and the embarrassment of Hotch calling your actions into question. Garcia, however, wasn't about to let that happen.

BAU-tiful People Group Chat

Garcia: *added You to the conversation*

Garcia: Ok, my lovely children, I know you’re all tired, but I miss your faces, so I’ll see u at Whimsy tonight at 9! Notice I didn’t use a question mark bc it is NOT a question!

You knew from overhearing the team talk that Whimsy was a bar downtown they liked to frequent, but you’d never been invited before. Despite your overwhelming exhaustion, the idea of going out with the team, of finally feeling accepted by them, was enough to make you amenable to the concept. It may have seemed insignificant on the surface, but Garcia adding you to their group chat was the biggest welcome gesture you’d received yet.

Morgan: Only if you wear that dress you know I like ;)

You lived for the day they would realize they were actually flirting with each other instead of just pretending to.

Prentiss: Garcia… you’re killing me… but you know I’ll be there.

JJ: Contacting the babysitter as we speak.

Morgan: Fuck yeah!!! Pretty Boy, you in?

Reid: Can’t we ever go somewhere quiet?

As the group chimed in with various iterations of, “Shut up, Reid,” you hesitantly typed out a text to confirm your attendance. You were excited, of course, but nervous to be the new kid at their favorite hangout. After today's events, though, the desire not to be sober won out over nerves.

You: I’ll be there! Thanks for the invite!

Rossi: Hope you kids are ready for me to drink you under the table, as usual.

Morgan: Eyyy, you KNOW we party hard! See y’all tonight.

____________

Turns out, Morgan was not exaggerating. Not even a little bit. By the time you arrived, 15 minutes late, everyone looked to be at least 3 shots deep. Garcia ran over to greet you, squealing, and wrapped you in a suffocating hug.

“I’m so glad you came! What do you drink? Tequila? I’ll grab the next round!”

You laughed and confirmed that tequila sounded great, and as she scurried off to the bar with Morgan on her heels, you had a chance to look around.

The atmosphere of the club surprised you - it was all glass and steel and modernity, packed with people dancing to something with intense bass - not the low-key joint you’d pictured the team wanting to unwind at. But as you watched JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi cheer on Reid as he threw back a shot, doubling over in hysterics as he coughed and sputtered at the taste, you realized that this place was just loud and energetic enough to keep them from thinking about anything other than work. In that way, you definitely saw the appeal.

“I come bearing shots!” Garcia yelled as her and Morgan made it back to the table. “Grab yours… here we go- whoops! Alright, everyone got theirs?”

She turned to you, grinning behind a pair of hot pink spectacles. “Cheers not ONLY to rescuing four kidnapped children alive, but also to our lovely intern and her first Whimsy outing!”

The team erupted in cheers and you smiled back, downing the tequila. You chatted with the group while Garcia ordered more drinks, and then more drinks, and soon you felt a pleasant buzz filling your head.

“Morgan, you better ask me to dance right now before I go find another man to do the job,” Garcia said with a wink in his direction.

Morgan grinned and mock-bowed, holding out a hand for her to take, and led her off to the dancefloor.

“Should we join them?” JJ asked around the table.

“Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t do anything worth getting kicked out for,” Prentiss shot back. You giggled and followed the girls, leaving Rossi and Reid behind at the table in the midst of a heated debate about childhood brain development that you couldn’t even hope to comprehend.

Not long after you started dancing, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and turned around, looking up into the stunning green eyes of a man who looked to be about your age. It was hard to really tell what he looked like in the dim lighting, but by the way Prentiss was giving you a thumbs up and mouthing, “Go for it,” from your side, he was good enough for you.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked above the music. You smiled and nodded in confirmation, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to his hips.

He knew how to move, that was for certain. He ground against your backside lightly, snaking his hands around your stomach. You weren’t used to this kind of thing - dancing with random men at bars, letting them touch you like this - but the combination of the music and the booze and the relief at the last case being over was making you feel more free than you had in recent memory.

You exchanged grins with Morgan, who was dancing a few feet away in a much more R-rated manner with Garcia. The man behind you (whose name you didn’t know, but who cared?) leaned down to kiss your neck and you arched against him in response, reaching up to run your hand through his hair.

Throughout the song, you had rotated back to facing the table where the rest of your team was sitting. You glanced over, saw Reid and Rossi still deep in discussion, along with another man in a black button-up with a very familiar side profile and-

Hotch.

Hotch was here, and as if the powers that be were insistent upon proving to you that the opposite of serendipity existed, at the exact moment you had that realization, he turned and made direct eye contact with you. Drunk, wearing a skintight dress, a random man grinding on your ass, and staring right back at your Unit Chief at the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and if you had been drunker, you might have hurled tequila all over the dancefloor. Instead, you pulled away from the mystery man behind you, ignoring his shocked, “Wait!” and beelined to the bar.

“Tequila. Shot. Please, I’m sorry, just saw someone I didn’t expect to,” you blurted out to the bartender, swearing you could feel Hotch’s eyes on your back from across the club.

The bartender, probably having seen much worse, nodded in understanding and poured your drink. You gulped it down, wiped your mouth, and leaned on the bar to get your bearings.

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s a bar, it’s outside of work hours, it’s perfectly fine that you’re buzzed and dancing and having fun. Everyone else is!

Really, it wasn’t that you were worried about your job, or even that he would judge you (he probably would, but that was unavoidable regardless of the setting), it was just that you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for the possibility that he would come. He was in the group chat - obviously, if he had seen Garcia’s invite - but had never struck you as the social type, the kind of boss that would interact with his team outside of work.

“Did you see that Hotch is here?” Prentiss asked breathlessly, appearing at the bar beside you.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one surprised.

“I did,” you whispered back, despite the thumping music and the rowdy patrons making it logically impossible for your words to reach the table 20 feet away. “Does he usually join you guys?”

“Never,” she said, before thinking and correcting herself, “Not in years, anyways. When Haley… we used to drag him out, but we stopped after a while.”

“Why do you think he came tonight?"

She shrugged. “Who knows? Far be it from me to explain why Hotch does anything.” An idea seemed to pop in her head, and she grinned. “Maybe it’s because of you!”

“M-me?” Your reaction to the suggestion wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as you’d tried for, but Prentiss was too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, gotta help initiate the intern on her first night out, right?” She grinned and clapped you on the shoulder, then turned away to head back to the dancefloor, leaving you alone. You sighed, gathered yourself as much as you could considering the effects of the tequila, and turned around to go greet him.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Yes, well. Thought I’d show up for a bit; it’s been a while.” He gave you a tight lipped smile then looked back down at his glass of whisky, the awkward energy palpable.

Probably because he just saw you basically dry-humping some random dude.

“Well, I’m glad you came! Feel free to, uh, come dance if you want! Morgan and Garcia are showing us all up,” you said, gesturing to where Morgan and Garcia were in fact drawing the attention of several onlookers.

He chuckled at that. “They’re certainly a sight to behold, aren’t they?”

You nodded in agreement and headed back to the bar, the brief conversation pointing you towards yet another drink. Talking to him was so easy , sometimes, and others it was like pulling teeth to get a human response out of him. Could you blame him, though? Your last one-on-one interaction was you basically inviting yourself over to his apartment with takeout and listening to him spill his guts about his dead wife and kid, and he probably felt uncomfortable with you after that, and then you went right to this case without any chance for things to go back to normal, and then he got shot, and oh my god, you didn’t even ask him how his arm was doing, how fucking rude can you be, dumbass? and-

“Whoops! Shit, I’m sorry!”

You looked at the person you’d just bumped into in the midst of your internal crisis.

“Hey, it’s you!”

The man you’d been dancing with earlier, now much more obviously handsome in the brighter lights of the bar area, grinned in recognition.

“Hey, I thought I’d scared you off there!”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. Just saw my boss and freaked out a little bit.”

“Oh shit, your boss is here?” he asked. “That’s uncomfortable, damn. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, it’s just… yeah. Anyways. Wanna pick up where we left off?” you asked, more desperate than ever to get Hotch out of your head. If he didn’t want to see you having a wild night, he shouldn’t have come to the club.

He took your hand, looking pleased. “Lead the way.”

It really was so much easier, you thought, to let yourself feel attraction for guys like this. Uncomplicated, willing to take what you give them, no backstory to speak of. They weren’t riddled with tragic history, unattainable in both position and personality, not to mention impossible to even imagine ever returning your feelings. Guys like Cooper (you’d finally learned his name somewhere amid the grinding and groping) were easy and fun and they didn’t keep you up at night agonizing over whether that thing you said at work was impressive enough.

But then again, they didn’t give you the roller-coaster feeling in your stomach that Aaron Hotchner did every time you locked eyes.

And lock eyes you did - an increasingly frequent number of times, actually. It seemed like whenever you turned to face his direction, he was staring you down. He always went back to his conversation with Rossi and Reid, but you noticed that he seemed to get more and more pissed off with every song that played. His frown was deepened, his expression dark, and you could tell even from a distance that his knuckles were white from gripping his glass.

You shrugged it off as Hotch being Hotch - who knew what that man was thinking? And besides, you were trying to forget him, damn it. At least, that was until a particularly raunchy song came on and you were in the middle of getting your ass felt up, when you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder and whip you around, bringing you face-to-face with your boss himself.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is something wrong?” you asked, utterly bewildered as to why he was interrupting you.

He ignored you, instead staring down Cooper, who very quickly decided Hotch wasn’t one to fuck with and walked away.

“Hotch! Is there a case? Should I grab the others?”

He shook his head. “Can you come with me, please?”

Perplexed, you acquiesced (not that you had much of a choice, with the way he was gripping your elbow) and followed him through the crowd, out the back door, and into an alley. He let go of you then, sighing and crossing his arms.

Your mind was wild with questions - did you do something you shouldn’t have? Get too drunk? Everyone was drunk, though, and you weren’t even half as wasted as some of the others. Did Reid or Rossi tell him something bad about you? Were you about to somehow get yourself fired off the clock?

“The boy you were dancing with was bad news,” he said, after an uncomfortably long period of silence.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” you repeated, this time out loud, and you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him like this, but you were too caught off guard to conduct yourself more appropriately.

“He was a drug user,” Hotch said, as if that would explain everything.

“A drug user,” you repeated back, no less confused.

“Cocaine,” he continued. “He was high - his pupils were dilated, he was rubbing his nose, and he's been to the bathroom several times.”

“So… you’re going to arrest him? For doing cocaine?” you asked, still baffled as to what he was insinuating.

“What? No,” he said, “I’m trying to warn you not to get involved.”

You had entered some parallel universe, you decided. There was no other explanation for your boss, a man you’d known all of four months, dragging you outside a bar on a Friday night and telling you not to dance with a hot stranger because he was on cocaine.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you really did get yourself fired. “Sir, I appreciate the concern, but I don’t think it’s really any of your business.”

His face hardened at that. “It is exactly my business,” he said, eyes boring a hole through your skull, “to watch out for things that may compromise my team.”

“Compromise your team?” you repeated his words again. “I was dancing, not getting engaged to the guy.”

“Should I allow you to dance with a sexual sadist if it’s just dancing?” he pressed, using the stern voice that usually caused any sort of dissent to whither and die right in your throat.

It didn’t work this time, probably because he was acting fucking insane. “Are you seriously comparing a sexual sadist to a guy who does cocaine while he’s out partying?”

“It’s not just while he’s out partying, by the way he conducted himself, he was a chronic-”

“It doesn’t matter!” you said, nearly yelling now. “You had no right! I'm sorry, what are you, my dad?!”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I hadn’t already had to sit through an 8 hour surgery not knowing if Garcia was going to make it out alive because her date shot her, then perhaps I would have no right. But as it stands, I do. Please be more careful with who you associate with, even if it’s just dancing.”

He spat that last part out, more vitriolic than you’d ever seen him, and stalked back inside. You were left outside in the alley, alone, reeling from confusion surrounding the entire interaction and shock at the emotional charge he’d leveled at you.

Reentering the bar, you saw that Hotch’s seat had been vacated and his jacket was gone. You rolled your eyes, and on your way to the bathroom, nearly ran into Cooper again.

“Hey!” he said. “What was that all about? You good?”

You looked up at his face and for the first time, noticed faint traces of white dust around his nose. He looked keyed up, jumpy - his pulse racing and visible on his carotid. You sighed.

“I’m good. Just not in the mood right now, sorry,” and pushed past him into the bathroom.

Hotch was an emotionally stunted asshole with a control complex, but he was also never fucking wrong.