#which means i need to wait for the next time this fish's window and the lancet's window line up without leaving

[kite33]

i have entered: jail

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton, p5

masterpost please no crit or editing, I know there are mistakes. this migraine is on day 7 and killing me <3

Danny swiped his finger over one of the hanging crystals in the waiting room window of Marvelous Mina’s Spiritual Nexus: or, in other words, the old, tiny, craftsman building that was crammed between two mid rises that Wilhelmina Aleshire had inherited from her grandmother several years ago.

There wasn’t any sort of spiritual nexus in the place. Mina was actually completely inept at conversing with the dead (Danny excluded). What Mina was unusually skilled at lay in the realm of psychic readings, specifically those involving divination such as tarot and oracle cards. She was also quite good at reading living people.

(Danny might have been a little jealous of that.)

Danny had first stumbled upon Mina and her ‘nexus’ when they were both dealing with the same ghost: him from the spirit itself and her from the bereaved widower of the man. Working together had wrapped things up quite quickly. It had also actually been enjoyable.

Mina was weird, energetic, and curious. It was an overwhelming combination at times, but other times it was just perfect. It was especially welcome when Danny got into a slump of some sort, usually between jobs or partners or when he wanted to kill and then end an annoying new roommate.

Not that he would ever do that.

(But Brad came damn close.)

A crying woman came dashing out through the curtain that separated the foyer waiting room from the sitting room that Mina used for her readings. She wiped dramatically at her eyes as she got to the door, heaved a massive sigh, tossed her hair back, and headed back out into the world.

“Wow. What did you tell her?” Danny asked, not even turning to look at Mina yet, though he knew she would be standing at the open curtain on the edge between the two spaces where old, cracked black and white tiles met darkly stained hardwood painted with hena style flowers.

“Oh, you know, the usual thing people hate to hear; it won’t work out between her and her current boyfriend,” Mina said. She dropped into the seat next to Danny, and he finally turned to look at her. Her mass of dark blond hair was piled up on top of her head in a sort of gibson girl bun that looked effortlessly, messily stylish. Mina was good at that—being effortlessly stylish in a disheveled sort of way. She brushed back her bangs and continued. “He’s actually already being set to be engaged by his family to ‘someone proper’, which he’ll give into for the inheritance—which is all she was after anyways. She’ll get over it.”

“Something something fish in the sea,” Danny said. He reached out and plucked a petal from Mina’s hair. It was from a bright orange zinnia. Mina’s favorite.

Mina hummed. “And how is your fishing going, Mr. Fenton?”

“Currently in an absolute drought, no where to fish around here.”

“Danny, you live in San Francisco. A bi man such as yourself is not allowed to say there is no fish around.”

Danny scowled, “No fish that don’t want to eat me and spit me out.”

“I mean…”

“Not like that!” Danny explained, a quick blush rising on in his cheeks. “I meant like, viciously.”

“I mean…” Mina repeated with a lascivious smirk.

“I regret coming to you for help.”

“No,” Mina whined, drawing out the word. “What help? Do you have a new ghost problem? What sort of help do you need? Danny, let me help!”

Danny managed to glare at her, but only for a few moments before he relented with an over wrought sigh. “Fine, you can help. Can we go talk now or do you have another appointment?”

“Not until four,” she said. She took Danny’s hand and practically dragged him through the door to the right and into the private section of the once stately home. “Which tea do you want?”

“Dealer's choice. Whatever tea you think is best for a weird talk about a weird ghost,” Danny said. He had his favorites of Mina's diverse tea selection, sure, but she had a way of always choosing the best blend foe the day if he left the choice to her.

She narrowed her eyes as she studied Danny in a way that always made the back of his neck itch. He put up with it dutifully, but relaxed noticeably when she nodded and continued them on to the kitchen.

The room was painted a warm, coral orange. The color should have clashed with the the pale blue cabinets and pale butcher top counters, but instead it just worked. It was very Mina.

Danny sat at the table and idly scratched Hubris on the head.

Hubris was Mina’s ancient grey cat. He had one single golden eye left and used it to glare pitifully at whoever was near until the pet him. He also purred like a wood chipper.

“So give me the deets,” Mina demanded once she had set down the two cups of tea.

Danny sighed and took a sip of his tea. “They’re different. It’s not like they’re made of smoke or mist, it’s like they’re full of static. And they don’t look dead either. I actually—I finally got a got a good look at them this last episode.”

“I don’t like the way you say ‘episode’,” Mina said. Her eyes narrowed over the top of her tea cup.

“You shouldn't,” Danny said with a frown as pulled out the sketch and unfolded it. “They’re seizures, I think? Not like I’ve gone to a doctor about them. I don’t think ‘the ghost person touches me and the world goes technicolor kaleidoscope’ would go over well with a medical professional.”

Hubris opened his one eye with a snort as Mina’s cup clanged down onto her saucer.

“Seizures?! Danny! What the f! You can’t just mess around with seizures.”

“You can say fuck, Mina, we’re both adults,” Danny said dryly.

She leaned forward. “I will throw my tea at you, Danny, unless you explain.”

“But I can’t exactly. They’re not a regular ghost, and I’ve never had anything like this happen before. Mina, look. They look alive.” He turned the drawing around to face her and slid it her way. “I drew this after the episode yesterday. I saw them so clearly. Their eyes had a spark, their skin was healthy skin with a flush and everything, and I even think they breathed. I don’t… Mina, I’m worried that they’re not a ghost.”

Mina picked up the sketch carefully. Her brows were furrowed. “But if they’re not a ghost, why are they contacting you?”

Danny shook his head. “No, if they’re not a ghost, how are they contacting me. And why am I their only option?”

“Fuck.”

“Pretty much. But that’s why I’m here. I want to try things a different way. I want you to try and read for them, Mina.”

[cecilysass]

Negotiation

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

They’ve been debating which case to work on next week so long that the car windows are all Rorschach test splotches of fog.

There’s a moment’s lull in conversation. Mulder reaches into the console, fishes out his bag of seeds and pulls it apart. His eyes lock on twin silhouettes in trench coats moving through the mist about twenty feet outside their car.

“You know, I hear they’re more than just partners,” he offers in a conversational tone.

“Who?”

“Gillis and Perez,” Mulder says, cracking open a sunflower seed, gesturing out the front windshield. “That’s the water cooler gossip, anyway.”

“Spending a lot of time at the water cooler, Mulder?”

“I’m in the know, Scully.”

They’ve been waiting in the car outside a row of weather-battered warehouses for two hours, part of a coordinated raid that hasn’t gotten its go-ahead yet. There have been days of briefings and prep, but something seems to have gone to shit, because they’re sitting positioned with practically the entire Bureau twiddling their thumbs. Dressed for action with no place to go.

Mulder suspects they’re probably not really necessary in this operation, which is about the size of the invasion of Normandy. They’d probably not be missed if they drove off and went to pick up some hamburgers.

But they’re nothing if not team players. And besides, this isn’t so bad. Scully sighs next to him, and he subtly glances at her. She’s leaning back against the seat, the soft arch of her neck exposed and her lips slightly parted. There are worse ways to spend an evening.

He turns back to watching Gillis and Perez through the front window. They’re dutifully walking the perimeter of the closest building.

The two agents don’t look overtly romantic, he decides. If it’s true, they’re discreet. They do walk side by side, very little distance between them, but they don’t touch one another. Gillis is a tall woman, so she stands almost at Perez’s height, and their heads keep arching towards one another to talk.

He wonders what they’re talking about. It could be anything—the raid, the weather, their favorite sexual positions.

Scully’s eyes track them, too, seeming to note every possible tiny physical clue.

“Hmm,” she says slowly and thoughtfully, “I admit, that’s interesting.”

“Interesting that it’s an open secret and there don’t seem to be any repercussions?”

“Yes,” Scully says, pushing back against the seat and stretching out her limbs like a cat. “And interesting in other ways, too.” She reaches down and, peeking first, helps herself to some of his sunflower seeds, her small hand slipping into the bag’s interior without crackling the wrapper.

Mulder makes an affirmative humming sound. “I thought so, too.”

“I mean, on some level it’s perfectly understandable,” Scully adds, placing some seeds between her lips, her eyes still focused out the window where the pair have disappeared around the corner. “They’re both very attractive. It’s hard to date in this job. People have needs.”

Mulder glances at her warily again. Jaw working on his own handful of seeds, he doesn’t answer right away, cautiously processing this statement. “Sure,” he says mildly. “I guess you’re right.”

And then the car is quiet, only the sound of cracking seeds and the rustling of the bag as he reaches for more.

“Actually,” Scully says casually, “it makes me think that we could do something like that.”

Mulder turns to her. “Something like what?”

“What Gillis and Perez are doing.”

“What?” He blinks rapidly. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” she says. Staring out the front window, she certainly appears serious, if a little uptight.

“You’re teasing, right?”

She looks down and carefully smooths the dark pants she wore for the raid, as if she has just noticed many sudden wrinkles. “If you don’t want to, fine. I was just raising the idea.”

“Raising… the idea,” he repeats, bewildered.

“Okay, Mulder,” she says with a small sigh. “I get it. It’s out of the question.”

“I’m just shocked that you would bring it up like … that you would just … it’s unexpected.”

“Let’s change the subject then. How do you like the Knicks this year?”

“I mean…” Mulder runs his hands down the sides of his face, dragging his cheeks. “What are you suggesting, exactly? How would you see it working?”

Scully’s eyes flash to his. “I’m not suggesting something in particular. It would be open to negotiation.”

“Open to negotiation,” Mulder says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus, Scully.”

“What’s your concern exactly?”

“So this would be a ‘meeting needs’ kind of deal,” he says, using finger quotes. “A ‘taking care of basic urges’ situation.”

“That’s one possibility,” she says brusquely.

Mulder’s head twists rapidly back towards her. “What are the other possibilities?”

“Well,” Scully says. Her face changes color. “It could be a little more traditional than that, I suppose.”

“Traditional like what?”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she says, throwing her hands up. “It would be open to negotiation. Is there an arrangement you would prefer?”

“To be honest,” he says, “I’d prefer not to have an arrangement at all.”

“Then we certainly don’t have to discuss it any more.” Her lips draw tightly.

“No, no,” he says, and he reaches out to place his hand on hers without thinking. “That came out wrong.”

“Mulder,” she says, stiffening under his touch, “let’s just gracefully drop it, okay? I regret bringing it up.”

“I just don’t want an arrangement,” he repeats meaningfully. “I don’t want a negotiation.”

“I get it,” she says shortly, jerking her hand out from under his.

“No,” he says. “No, you don’t.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want … what you suggest. I’ve thought about it. A lot. Maybe too much.”

Scully’s mouth twitches at the corners as she apparently absorbs this. “Okay,” she responds. A pause. “Then why not?”

Mulder rubs his temples aggressively.

“I don’t think I could do it without … all of it. I mean, that’s not strictly true. I could do it. I’m only human. But I think it would end … really badly.”

“End badly how?”

“I don’t know about you, but to me sometimes it seems like things are too complicated between us already. This would be upping the ante. I’m pretty sure I’d always be wanting the whole thing.”

She’s confused. “What do you mean by ‘all of it?’ The ‘whole thing?’ We could negotiate that, if you wanted it. Make it part of the arrangement.”

“Scully,” he says in a fond, exasperated tone. “You can’t negotiate being in love. You know that, right?”

He thinks for a moment she’s not going to respond.

“And that’s what … you want?”

“Well, it’s probably not something I’m going to have a ton of willpower about, so don’t test me,” he says with a rueful hitch in his voice. “But in my experience, it’s a bad idea to enter into a sexual relationship with someone you’re in love with if they’re not in love with you.”

Scully is very still, apparently reacting to the implied revelation. He steels himself for more.

“I admit, I’ve done it in the past,” Mulder says. He’s proud of how calm he sounds. “I might even be prone to it, whatever that says about me. It’s ended in spectacular fucking heartbreak. You think it will work out, that you’ll convince the person, and it feels real. But it’s not. And in those cases, it wasn’t like…” He breaks off. “Well, it wasn’t like this partnership. Which, as I hope you know, is ... already different from most other kinds of relationships. I just think this would be a lot worse. More painful.” He hesitates before saying the last word. “Devastating.”

They don’t say anything for a moment. Scully has a strange, almost dazed expression on her face.

“Gillis and Perez,” Scully says, gesturing to where they’d walked around the corner. “Is that a meeting-basic-needs situation?”

“I have no idea,” Mulder says. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re one another’s soulmates. I don’t know. Water cooler didn’t cover that.”

She nods once. He hears her toying with the edge of the sunflower seed bag.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, after a moment, “I didn’t bring up the meeting-basic-needs idea. You did.”

Mulder’s brow furrows. “Did I? I thought you mentioned ‘needs.’”

“I used the word ‘negotiation,’” she continues, in her precise work voice. “Which doesn’t really reveal anything about the feelings of any of the parties. It just means parameters would have to be agreed on in advance.”

“I guess,” Mulder says doubtfully.

“I don’t know if it would be as risky as you’re thinking,” she adds with finality. “It seems to me that you’re making some faulty assumptions.”

“I don’t think I am,” Mulder says stubbornly. “I know myself pretty well, and I know my feelings.”

“Yes,” she replies, “but you don’t know mine.”

A pause.

“No,” he says in a different tone. “Now that you mention it, no, I guess I don’t.”

“It never occurred to me that we would have an arrangement without … attachment. I suppose I took the attachment for granted.”

“Attachment?”

She nods shortly.

“And by attachment, you mean…?”

She bites her lip and rolls her eyes. “Mulder.”

“That embarrasses you, Scully? Talking about feelings?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just a little hard to believe when you were propositioning me for sex a few minutes ago.”

“I wouldn’t describe it as propositioning you for sex,” she says huffily.

“No? Come on. You were basically like: let’s negotiate a contract and take your pants off, Mulder.”

“That’s not what I was like,” she replies, flushing.

“I know what I heard.”

“I was only trying to say that maybe we should talk about this option … that we don’t ever talk about,” she says tightly. “That we both think about.”

“Scully—”

“An option that’s literally sitting right in front of us. That Gillis and Perez chose for themselves.”

He squirms in his seat, then pulls in a long, slow breath. “Yeah.” He’s not looking at her. “You’re right.”

“You were the one that made me sound so…” She composes herself. “You were the one that took feelings out of the equation.”

He steals a careful look at her. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t respond, and she’s looking away from him, but he suspects, from past experience with the various cadences of her voice, that she’s got tears in her eyes.

“I should have realized you had some protections up, too, Scully,” he adds roughly.

She looks down at her hands.

“Scully,” he tries, gently, “just to be clear in negotiation here—are you saying that … it might be possible for you and me to have a relationship where both parties hold equivalent feelings?”

She lifts her head, and there are indeed tears pooling in the corners of her clear blue eyes. “Don’t you know me at all? Haven’t you been paying any attention?”

He reaches over and takes her hand in his. Her small fingers feel gritty, like the salt coating his sunflower seeds.

“I thought I was paying attention,” he says. “But then you go and do something really, really surprising.”

“I thought I was being logical,” she says primly, looking down again.

He places a finger under her chin and tips her face up. “Very logical,” he says in a low, playful voice. “Nothing says logical like initiating a relationship with Fox Mulder.”

[vivievienne]

Interrogation — Chapter 8

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: In which Tsukasa got a very interesting information...

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I really liked this chapter omggg. one more chapter and i'm freeeeee

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none??

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 576

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ��𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

"Tsukasa... Tsukasa? Tsukasa!!!", Emu pulled him by his shoulder.

"Oh, right... I'm sorry, Emu", he shook his head.

                                         ***

"Mr. Tenma, we had found something or rather someone very interesting", he heard a male voice behind his back.

"Who?", Tsukasa asked. He saw a discreet 'follow me' from his worker and did as he wanted.

The slow footsteps echoed in the big corridor. They slowly were going down and down till they reached the underground of the building where was the interrogation rooms.

"This girl", they finally reached the doors. He pointed out to the girl behind the venetian mirror. She was cuffed, her blonde hair covered her eyes. She was clearly a rebel. "Has been helping the injured rebels recently. After some interrogations, we discovered that she's a nurse in the headquarter of The Rebeliants. Her name is Kohane Asusawa", the male finished. Tsukasa slowly pulled his hand on the glass and sighed.

"Kohane...", he lowered his head. "Anything else?", he turned it to this man.

"No, nothing for now", the man claimed. "She still doesn't want to tell us where their headquarter is. Should we continue the interrogation?"

Tsukasa looked one more time at the Kohane. He knew she must be in bad shape. She wasn't the kind of the person that is used to this kind of things. "No... Leave her for now. Uncuff her too. She needs to rest."

The male nodded and walked away to finish his task as soon as possible. He stayed a little bit longer next to the window. He puts his forehead on the glass.

"I'm so sorry... I wish everything turned out differently."

                                         ***

"Kohane is in The Government's building!?", An was shocked to hear that. No, no!!! This can't be happening. She looked at Toya and Akito. They both showed a mixture of surprise and anger. These stupid government people...

"We need to rescue her", Akito claimed, clearly showing his impatience to this matter.

"We can't rescue her", Rui said. He knew what this decision means to them. He knew his hurting them right now. But... No, he can't put this risk.

"No! Kamishiro, think! She's one of the people that are the nearest to our headquarter! And she's so fragile... What if she say something she shouldn't? I mean I believe in her but...", An shook her head. She was sure Kohane wasn't this type of person but... What if they torture her...? She doesn't want to ever admit it, but she couldn't not spill anything... Not with... these methods.

"I decided already", he said with a stern voice. "We can't put this risk. It's selfish."

"But Kamishiro, I...", An tried to puzzle her thoughts into a rational quote, but she couldn't...

"Kamishiro, are you dumb or just extremely stupid?", Akito stated. Everyone in the room looked with a shocked expression at the Akito. No... No! He didn't do that, did he? "You called us to say 'I won't do anything, because it's selfish'? You are selfish! I'm not going to sit here and wait till they torture her to death or something. I won't, hear me!? Unlike you, I'm not a coward who's afraid of putting some risk. I'll get her back! With you or without!", Akito finished and walked out of the office with the loud shut.

"Akito, wait!", Toya ran after him.

"No...", An turned around and looked at the boy that was running towards his friend.

"Please... Don't leave me, not now..."

taglist: @minakolada, @the-depths-of-the-coral-sea, @darkly-stagnating-fish-tank, @tsukasa-memes, @lyns-art-estate

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

🤔⛵️🥰 please 🫶

Wooden Treasures - Romantic Wojchek Headcanons

Warnings: Bit of angst because it's Wojchek, it's like a requirement.

Notes: Some romance with my jolly sailor bold? You guys are spoiling me Q//w//Q This ended up being a bit of a broken up drabble since it's hard to write romance for someone who's away for so long, so when he is around that's when the true headcanons start 😊 I hope you enjoy~ 💗💗💗

You meet him in the most unromantic way possible, while he's coming ashore to check cargo and you're passing by completely distracted. You bump into him as he's in the middle of his inspections, the payment for his cargo knocked out of his hands and onto the dock, the coins spilling every which way and into the water. The look he gives you is nothing short of loathing, and you end your first meeting gathering everything up and reimbursing the rest, plus a little extra for the trouble.

The next time you see him he's returning, and since there's no rush you introduce yourself and offer to maybe buy him a drink to make up for last month, but he doesn't even remember you, the moment so inconsequential once the money was handed over that he concentrated on the voyage and pushed you right from his mind. He does hesitate at turning you down though, and while it still isn't very romantic while everyone drinks and talks and sings around you, you learn his name is Wojchek and that he prefers to drink outside rather than inside.

His next voyage isn't for a week and a half while they restock and buy new livestock, so you end up seeing him quite a bunch while you go about your day. He sticks to his ship, preferring to sleep on board instead of renting a room on solid ground, and you learn that when you're closing your window in the morning chill and see him stretching on deck. You almost call to him but don't, preferring to watch as he breathes in the sea air, his hair even more disheveled as he pulls his suspenders over his shoulders and heads for the dock. You invite him out to breakfast instead with the excuse that you were just on your way, and he seems almost fond of you as he asks if you'd want to eat on deck with him while the sun rises.

By the time the first week was almost over, he'd seen you so many times that he'd remembered your name, and you learn that he wasn't just distant, he was just so used to moving around that he never bothered remember anything outside of his crew. You don't realize how important this made you to him until he was the one asking you to dinner, but not at one of the many seafood places lining the docks, but instead on the Demeter while the others were out. He doesn't use any of their growing supplies, they needed to save them after all, instead buying rarer things from the import section of the open market nearby, using them to make you something from his home country to share. You don't realize it's an actual date until he lights the lamps as the sun starts to set, a candle on the makeshift table he and the others had carried up on deck just for this, and he tells you all about the recipe as you enjoy the meal he'd made just from memory.

He's very self-sufficient, living on the sea had made him grow up fast, but it also means he was now a jack-of-all-trades, from cooking, to mending his few clothes once it became unavoidable, to even repairing the ship. He loves working with his hands, this becoming apparent when you find a handcrafted wooden sculpture of a fish waiting for you on your doorstep the night after your date. There's a lot of care put into it even though he would've had to work fast, the next one coming a couple days later when you step out to visit the market before the morning rush. This one is of a bird, and it sits in your pocket as you do your shopping and feel him there with you.

He can only stay for one more day, the new cargo coming earlier than expected and allowing them to make even better time, and while you knew it was coming you hoped you'd at least have a couple extra days to get to know him better. As he tells you this on the docks he seems different than before, the serious, stoic sailor who'd made you want to jump into the water to avoid his rage now replaced with the man asking if you wanted to have one more dinner together before he had to go. Again he cooks for you as you invite him into your home, only this time he teaches you what to do as he chops and simmers, helping you commit this part of him to memory so when he left you could make it on your own and remember him. When it's over he kisses your hand and wishes you goodnight, and you almost don't let him go as he heads back to the Demeter in the dark.

You meet him on the docks the next day, unable to bear the wait without one last goodbye, and this time he presses a new sculpture into your hand with a kiss to your forehead and a promise that he'll return to you spoken in his native tongue.

You don't hear from him for weeks until they reach their destination, someplace far away that you can't even place without visiting the library and looking over their hand drawn maps of the world, and you count the days and memorize every word on the page until you can see the stars with him.

He sends another letter when they make an emergency stop halfway home, one of the animals they'd brought on board had gone rabid and caused quite the panic, and it was only through a miracle that no one was hurt. In it, because it'd been over a month by that point, he confesses to you how much he missed seeing your face in the morning, how the sunrise used to be the only thing that warmed his heart, it replaced by you and your laugh instead. He promises that even if they can't return for long, he still wants to hold you in his arms, otherwise it'll be hard for him to leave again. You make the recipe he taught you that night, but it doesn't taste the same without him sitting across from you.

His sculptures find a permanent spot on your windowsill so you can wake up and think of him as soon as you see them, and when the wind knocks one over you finally notice the words you can't translate carved into the bottom of each.

When the Demeter finally pulls into port, you race down the stairs and through the duplex door straight to the docks, the commotion of other returning ships doing their best to stop you until you trip and crash into a bunch of people. The hands that catch you are strong and steady, and you instantly know it's him before you even look up and see him. His eyes are tired from the delayed return but the smile he gives you holds so much that you make sure he makes good on his promise as you throw yourself into his arms.

He only has a few days before he's gone again, this just another small stop on the way to their next job, but he really does make good as he finds you the moment he's done with his tasks. He needs to find a bigger crew to take care of this one, the cargo much bigger than the usual hauls, and as you walk together you joke that maybe you'll come along this time. He doesn't joke with you, something in his eyes telling you he wants you to be serious, and you actually consider it as he almost kisses you goodnight on your doorstep.

You're only able to see him again before he leaves, your eyes on the Demeter all night in case they need to leave early, your chair pulled up to the window as you watch for any sign of movement. When they start moving around you get dressed and rush out, but there isn't any time to say goodbye as the sails are lowered and the ship starts to leave. You call for him as your heart aches, and before it pulls away you see him appear at the end, and he points behind you as his voice gets lost on the wind. You turn to find a box waiting for you by your doorstep, you'd run right past it, and when he disappears from sight you find all the others letters he was never able to send along with over ten new sculptures, each one different and sporting the same text as the others on the bottoms, and you just hold them and pray that he'll return to you faster this time.

You space out the letters, one per day until he can send something new, and you miss him as he tells you about how beautiful the sea looks when the sun is low and it shines like gems, but how it's nothing compared to what he sees when he looks at you. He shares more recipes with some, stories from in his past in others, but the final one you can't read as it's entirely in polish, and the next day you go back to the library to see if you can translate it yourself.

The wait doesn't feel so long as you pour over your books, slowly recognizing the words until you can chip away at the last letter piece by piece. He sends a couple more but you hold off on reading them until the whole thing is finished, and it's rough and badly translated in some places but you still understand that it's a confession about how he thinks he's falling in love with you all the same, the page filled with everything he loved about you and why for the first time in his life he wanted to stay. You cry as you read the last sentence about how maybe someday he'll have the courage to tell you this himself, since he knows you can't read it, and how he wishes he could have more time with you the next time he comes to port. You file away each one lovingly into a drawer, the new sculptures joining the rest, and finally you understand as you read the words on the bottoms: Kocham cię. "I love you."

You space out the new letters but they're more closed off than the last, no more secret messages for you to translate as he talks about how he wished you could see the shorelines of the places they pass, how you would love the quick stops they make at those coastal towns, but nothing else. You blame yourself for not leaving sooner, even though you know that you never would've been able to read his confession before he left, and you start on your own to give to him when he returns.

It takes almost 3 months this time but finally the Demeter returns to port, and you let him work as you watch from your window, his letter sealed and waiting beside you as you rest against the sill. You wait until you see him glance towards your place, and you catch his eye as he hurries towards you, his letter in your hand as you take the stairs two at a time until you're opening the door and he's there. He reaches into his pocket to grab something for you but you hold out your letter first, and he just stares at it before coming inside to read it. You wait as he struggles a little with your amateur translation, but it must still make sense because when he's done he's holding you to his chest and speaking to you in words you still don't understand, you can only read them, and you tell him this before he finally kisses you.

For once he doesn't go back to the Demeter as he cooks one of the recipes he shared in his letters with you, delicious and new smells filling your home as he tells you about their upcoming voyage. They'd been hired to transport cargo all the way to London, so he'd be gone a long time again, but there was a bonus pay waiting for them there if they made good time. You ask him what he'd do with his share as you grab two plates, and he answers in polish again but doesn't translate this time no matter how much you beg him to. He spends the night for the first time, and you whisper for him not to go as you fall asleep in his arms.

You receive no letters as the weeks drag on, your worry increasing with each passing day that you don't hear from him, and you know something's wrong when a storm hits you as you're coming home, all of your sculptures knocked to the ground as the wind and rain invade your living room. When you're on the docks heading to market you finally hear what happened, how the Demeter ran aground and was shattered against the rocks when it reached London. You froze in your tracks right there, your knees giving out as the word that there were no survivors shoots right through you and makes you break down right there.

Your collection of gifts from him becomes your treasure, each one valuable to you as you move the sculptures from your sill to your dresser. They line up in front of your mirror, guarding you as you sleep alone each night, each letter memorized again and again until your tears make the letters smudge. You force yourself to leave them alone, you can't lose the way he loved you so soon, his confession still unspoken as you wish you could still feel him laying there with you.

A few months go by before you start to move on, your sea view no longer beautiful as you walk along the docks in order to reach the market. A ship had pulled in around the time you left, the sailors all piling out to hurry for the bars, but you just ignore them as you try not to look. They all brush past you as you just try to get by, your chest hurting with each one that makes you stumble until you finally trip and fall, crashing hard into someone with a bag slung over his shoulder. You both fall to the ground, his bag tearing on the old wood, and you just barely get out an apology before you see the wooden sculptures sprawling out beside you. You take them all in before looking up at the person you landed on, and you can't stop your tears as you see him there, wincing, bandaged, scarred, but alive. You can't speak as he explains that he jumped overboard before the crash and it only just saved him, but everyone else was lost in the storm, he didn't know who else made it. You'll care later but you don't now as he's the only important thing to you, and you kiss him before helping gather up everything he made you while he was recovering. There are no letters though, and he admits that he didn't want to hide behind the ink any longer as he meets your eye, and before he can say anything else you tell him you love him, his hand leaving his pocket at the same time. You stare down at his hand as he tells you he spent the last of his money on this before he boarded the ship to come back to you, and you translate his final mystery sentence from months ago in your head as you lovingly pick up the ring sitting in his palm.

[f1-stuff]

Mallorca AU please :)

Hii ❤️ (previous shared bit) and an 880-word snippet for you :

They run back to Carlos’ bike, yelling and laughing as the rain quickly goes from a light misting to what Charles would describe as a downpour.

“We can’t ride your bike in this!” he insists, even as Carlos swings his leg to straddle the seat.

“What do you mean? It’s just a bit of rain,” Carlos shouts. His joke is punctuated by another rumble of thunder. “Get on - hurry.”

Charles doesn’t waste time arguing, although he does laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation as he once again climbs onto the handlebars. He fumbles around, sliding a bit on the wet metal, but Carlos helps to balance him like last time, a hand at his waist that somehow exactly aligns with Charles feeling a bit short of breath. And then, they’re off, Charles squinting against the rain, as Carlos maneuvers them onto the road.

He seems to know where he’s going, despite Charles’ rather pathetic description of where their villa is. So Charles just holds on and blinks water from his eyes.

“I am like your windshield,” he yells, over his shoulder. “Blocking all the rain.” Carlos laughs at his back.

“Thank you, very helpful,” Carlos teases.

It takes them, probably, five minutes or so to get to the nearest bus stop. Charles hadn’t known that was where they were headed, but luckily Carlos isn’t crazy enough to think they could bike all the way to the house in this rain. He thinks Carlos might leave him now, but when he sticks to Charles’ side as they wait for the bus, huddled underneath the small covered bench, Charles feels inexplicably warm. 

Even more so when, as the bus pulls up, Carlos climbs on with him, managing to fit his bike inside with minimal effort, which speaks to him having potentially done it before, as well as talk to the driver about the stop they need and how much it’ll cost. He fishes the amount they need from his pocket, ignoring Charles’ attempt to protest.

“You can cover me next time,” he says. And it makes Charles feel even warmer - the promise of ‘next time’.

They sit side-by-side for the ride, which must be about a half hour or so. But Charles can’t be sure because his eyes quickly start to get heavy, lulled by the hum of the bus’ engine and the rain pattering against the window. He doesn’t decide to close his eyes, but he wakes up some time later to Carlos’ hand gently shaking his knee.

“Almost there,” he says softly, very close to Charles’ ear. Which is also when Charles realizes his head is resting on Carlos’ shoulder. 

He sits up straight, his cheeks hot. Carlos just grins.

“Sorry,” he says, on reflex.

“It’s alright,” Carlos replies, and he sounds like he means it. 

Still, Charles stares pointedly out the window as he waits for his face to stop flushing, until the bus is approaching their stop and Carlos stands to make his way with his bike to the door. They step out into the rain once again, waiting for the bus to pull away before Carlos gestures for him to climb back on the bike.

“It’ll be faster than walking,” he says, over the sound of the rain.

Carlos pedals as fast as he can, Charles giving him directions once he recognizes where they are. But they’re still soaked by the time they pull up to the gates of the villa. Charles crows in victory as he jumps off the bike, Carlos laughing as he watches him punch in the code.

They hardly wait for the gates to open a sliver before they’re pushing through and running toward the covered porch. Carlos lets the bike fall to the ground as they take cover, both of them catching their breath. Charles looks in amazement at the rain that’s bucketing down.

“Do you want to come in?” he asks, thinking it’s hardly smart for Carlos to ride home in this weather.

“I can’t. It’s Sunday and my family has this tradition,” Carlos says, waving his hand in the air. “Sunday night dinners.” Charles nods, something like disappointment settling in his stomach.

“Do you want a ride?” he asks. “Come on, you can’t go on your bike.” Carlos just shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the bus back.”

Charles chews on his lip, not wanting to accept Carlos’ solution but not sure he’ll be able to convince him otherwise. Ultimately, he just doesn’t want to say goodbye yet. But he thinks it would sound pretty pathetic (and strange) if he insisted on driving Carlos for that reason.

Carlos laughs, then, surprising Charles out of his thoughts. “You are so wet,” he says, reaching up to smooth Charles’ dripping hair off of his forehead.

Carlos’ breath tickles his face, and he realizes just how close they’re standing. He’s close enough to see the freckles on Carlos’ nose and cheeks, the water beading along his skin, the parting of his lips. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him and the heaviness of his gaze as their eyes meet. Carlos’ hand lingers in his hair by his ear. Charles swallows, his tongue feeling suddenly heavy and thick in his mouth.

He doesn’t know why it still surprises him when Carlos kisses him.

And that's all you get... 😏

WIP Wednesday

[allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin]

30 Days of November

taglist: @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl @inkameswetrust (you really liked the idea)

12. Gloomy

The last thing Ashlynn wanted to do in the rain was walk home from work. The weather app on her phone had lied to her, and she hadn't packed an umbrella in her backpack. She also needed a warm coat. Watching the world from the cafe window, she frowned. The sky was grey, and rain pattered down in an erratic rhythm. No light would peek past those clouds.

"Can't you ask your boyfriend to pick you up?" Mark asked, wiping down the counter for the twentieth time. Some Karen had thrown her cold drink at him for some stupid reason.

"Boyfriend? I don't- Carlos is not my boyfriend." She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms.

"The fact he spends every other day here in the same spot by the window says otherwise." Her boss chuckled and took off his patron. "Or, I could drive you home."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll wait out the rain."

"Ash, it's going to rain all day," Mickey said. Her hair was braided with various colors; she was sporting a rainbow.

"Okay, then I'll walk." Ash sighed and tugged her backpack tight on her shoulders.

The bell was atop the door, and she didn't turn to look at who entered the cafe. The dark-haired girl was focused on the steady rain. She could hear it tap against the gutters and rattle down the side of the building. It was louder than anyone expected but could quickly fade into the ambiance.

"Or, I could drive you."

Her ears perked, and she turned around. At the same time, he always arrived after work at Rocque Records and was the helmet-wearing singer from the boyband Big Time Rush. Carlos Garcia. Ash jumped and whirled around.

"Technically, it would be Logan driving you because I don't have my permit yet, and you would probably be squished in the back with me and James..." Now that he said his inside thoughts aloud, he started thinking it through.

It was a sweet gesture, and at this point, she would take anything instead of walking across town in the rain. Okay, across town was an exaggeration, but it was still too far to walk. She had her license but needed to get a car. The option was to ride in a car with her boss, who was more like a father figure than anything, or squish into the backseat of a BTR mobile with James and Carlos. The first option seemed comfortable, but she would have to wait for her boss to get off work; the second option would mean she was squished between two guys in an already cramped car, but it was better than waiting around and doing nothing.

"Okay."

Carlos had been rambling while she was weighing her options. He stopped mid-sentence and stared blankly at her. He was dumbfounded and maybe a little speechless. The boy floundered like a fish out of water, staring at her while she stuffed her apron into her backpack.

"I think you broke him," Mickey snickered.

"Okay!" Carlos squeaked. He couldn't contain the smile on his face. "Let me just go-" He tripped over himself as he practically ran out the door to inform his friends their seating situation would change.

Mickey snorted and laughed behind her hand. Ash chewed at the inside of her cheek. Sometimes, Carlos was like a puppy. He was so excitable and happy but also eager. It was almost like he worshipped the ground she walked on. From the window, she watched him talk to his friends. He wore a hood instead of his signature helmet, which she should have noticed when he walked in. His hands waved frantically as he presumably got his friend to move over and make room. Next thing she knew, she was squished between Carlos and James in the backseat, holding her backpack on her lap.

The brunette to her right was checking his appearance in a handheld mirror, and to her left, Carlos gave her puppy eyes. She swore there were little hearts in his eyes. But, for now, they were friends. It wasn't that she was afraid he would hurt her, but she wasn't sure if she could handle a romantic relationship. Carlos understood this despite how big of a crush he had on her.

When they go to the PalmWoods, Carlos removes his jacket and uses it like an umbrella to cover Ash from the rain. She is only an inch taller than him, so it isn't all that hard. Their proximity made her blush, but he dropped the jacket and shook off the water once inside, accidentally getting water on the carpeted floor. Thankfully, Bitters wasn't around.

"Hey, do you want to watch a movie?" Carlos asked quietly. He was half expecting her to turn him down, as most girls did. She most likely wanted to go out with James.

"Only if we watch Grease. It's my favorite movie to watch when the weather is gloomy." Ash cracked a small smile. Carlos' face lit up.

"Okay, yeah. We can watch whatever you want!" he exclaimed, trying to keep himself from quite literally jumping for joy. She followed him when he practically ran off to the elevator with a pep in his step.

Mrs. Knight and Katie weren't home because they were off doing something most likely related to girl things. All four guys were entitled to the apartment, but Carlos kicked the four of them out. Kendall and James weren't phased because they had prior plans to hang out with their girlfriends, but Logan had been in the middle of his math homework. Instead of moving, he sat down in the hall and worked away on his laptop.

"So, what is Grease?" Carlos pulled up one of the RCM-CBT streaming services to look for it on the television.

"Well, it's a musical..." Ash knew well that his favorite types of movies were action movies, but when he didn't react adversely, she let out a breath, which she didn't know she was holding.

"It's a romance movie?" Carlos didn't scrunch his face up or fake gag. That was how he reacted to his friends. "Why do you want to watch a romance movie with me?" He quirked a brow.

"It's perfect for rainy days." Ash avoided his gaze.

Carlos started the movie and stretched his arms across the back of the couch. Ash sat beside him with a platonic distance between them, but the more the movie played, the closer she scooted to his side. Until she was cuddling against him.

The energetic boy tried to hide the fact he was crying, but she reached for the tissues on the coffee table and handed them to him. She had seen this movie about a thousand times. She remembered how she cried the first time watching it. Beauty School Dropout was her favorite song. Carlos blew his nose and tried to keep it together. He didn't want to seem weak, crying in front of her, but he couldn't help it.

[lestappenforever]

Let Them Sing (I'll Make You Scream) - The Monza Lestappen fic

Two things:

This fic was never supposed to exist, but ever since the appearance of my lovely Monza anons earlier this week, I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head.

I'm posting the full fic on Tumblr for the first time ever because it wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for the anons. You can find the fic on AO3 here.

Monza anons, this one is all for you. ❤️

(And the lovely @f1writingbyme for coming up with the title.)

---

“Max,” Charles breathes, his fingers tightening their hold on the blond strands.

Max hums against him, his tongue and two fingers quickly driving the Monégasque towards the edge of insanity as they work him open. Max’s other hand around his cock tightens its hold, wrist flicking deliciously as he reaches the head on the next stroke.

Charles shudders, pushing his head into the pillow as his eyes roll back into his head.

The Dutchman crooks his index finger, brushing against Charles’ prostate, drawing a breathless keen from him.

And yet, all Max is able to hear is the many, many singing voices from outside, their song forcing its way through the closed windows, through the closed balcony doors, penetrating Max’s mind when all he wants to hear is the beautiful noises he knows he can draw out of Charles.

“For fuck’s sake,” Max hisses as he pulls back, his tongue and fingers slipping out of Charles.

The Monégasque groans his protest, forcing his eyes open to look down at Max between his legs. But Max isn’t looking at him, too busy staring at the balcony doors with narrowed eyes. The firm set of his jaw is enough to let Charles know that Max is clenching his teeth together, which he always does when he’s frustrated.

“Will they shut the fuck up if you go out there?” he asks, finally moving his gaze from the balcony doors to Charles.

There’s a flush on his cheeks and his lips are glistening with saliva and lube. His hair, where Charles’ hands are still curled, is sticking up in every direction. There’s irritation — anger — in his eyes that looks like a raging storm on its way to wreak havoc on whatever stands in its way. It shouldn’t make Charles’ dick twitch with want, and yet, that’s exactly what it does.

“Why? Are they distracting you?” Charles asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Max pinches the inside of his thigh, hard. “The fact that they’re not distracting you is a little concerning.”

Charles shrugs. “What can I say? I like being worshiped.”

“I know,” Max agrees, leaning in to nibble at the inside of Charles’ other thigh, sending a full-body shudder through him. “I’m kind of trying to worship you here. So get your ass out there and give them a little wave so we can get back to it.” He slaps Charles’ thigh playfully for good measure.

Charles snorts, lifting his leg and gracefully moving it over Max’s head so he can roll to the side of the bed and get to his feet. He hastily gets dressed, foregoing boxers, and makes his way to the balcony, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Max rolls onto his side on the bed, watching as Charles steps outside and listening to how the Tifosi crowd waiting below the balcony fucking roar at the sight of him. It makes the Dutchman roll his eyes because the love the Italian fans have for Ferrari — for Charles — is borderline ridiculous. It’s unlike anything Max has ever seen anywhere else, and it’s everything Charles deserves. He deserves to have fans as devoted to him as the Tifosi, and Max sees how much it means to him. Hell, his post-qualifying interview that very same day and how Charles needed to stop midway to take it all in before barreling on in Italian proved just how much it means to him.

Does Max believe that Ferrari deserves Charles? At the moment, absolutely not. But there is no denying that Charles deserves this.

He watches as Charles waves to the crowd — watches as the Monegasqué fishes his phone out of his pocket to capture this moment, their devotion — and he wonders what the crowd would think if they knew that their Il Predestinato had been spread open by Max Verstappen’s fingers and tongue mere minutes before. Wonders what they would think if they knew that as much as Charles is enjoying their attention, he’s probably thinking about how badly he wants to get back into that hotel room and have Max fuck him until he can’t even remember his own name, let alone remember what the Tifosi refer to him as.

Smiling, Max wraps a lube-slicked hand around his dick and starts stroking himself slowly, watching Charles from the back as he gazes down at the crowd. A full minute passes before Charles glances back at him over his shoulder, and that soft, adoring smile is quickly replaced by something else as his eyes follow the movement of Max’s hand on his dick. Something primal. Something urgent.

Max winks at him.

The Monegasqué’s cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink before he turns back to the Tifosi, giving them another few seconds of his attention before he waves them goodnight and retreats into the hotel room, shutting the balcony doors behind him and drawing the curtains. He’s naked and on the bed, straddling Max’s hips in a matter of seconds.

“Not distracted anymore?” Charles asks as he reaches behind himself and gets Max’s hand out of the way, replacing it with his own around the base of the Dutchman’s cock.

Max’s hands come up to grip Charles’ waist, sucking in a sharp breath as the Monegasqué manages to stroke him despite the slightly awkward angle. “They’re not as loud anymore,” Max says, sounding slightly out of breath as his fingers sink into Charles’ soft skin. “The power of Il Predestinato.”

Charles huffs a laugh and shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue. After all, you can’t argue with the truth: the way the crowd had stopped booing Max almost entirely ahead for his post-qualifying interview when Charles motioned for them to stop was proof enough of the power he holds with the Tifosi.

As Charles positions the head of Max’s cock against his entrance, Max squeezes Charles’ waist.

“If only they could see you like this, baby,” Max purrs, watching with awe as Charles lowers himself slowly onto Max’s aching cock. A soft moan escapes him at the warm tightness that surrounds him.

Charles gasps, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down further, his body taking Max’s length and girth with ease. Max’s hands move from his waist to Charles’ hips, holding him in place once Charles is fully seated on Max’s cock, keeping him from moving back up.

“If only they knew that their precious Il Predestinato lets Max Verstappen fuck him every chance he gets,” Max goes on, watching as Charles bites his bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold back a moan. “How do you think they’d feel about that, Charles?”

Charles braces himself with his hands on Max’s chest as he slowly raises his hips, aided by Max’s strong hold on them. He doesn’t stop moving until the head of Max’s cock is only barely still inside of him. And he stays like that, hovering above Max.

“Would you like to go out there and find out?” Charles asks, his voice cracking slightly on the last syllable. He watches the way the Dutchman’s eyes turn darker with desire. With need.

“No,” he says through gritted teeth, as Charles slides back down agonizingly slowly, making Max’s head spin. “I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.”

Charles hums, clenching around Max’s cock teasingly and drawing a bitten off moan from the Dutchman. Outside, the tifosi are still gathered outside the gates, singing their hearts and lungs out. Although Max was right about them having gone a little more quiet now, their chants and songs and screams are still loud in the room. He leans down, letting his lips brush against Max’s. “Think you can make me drown them out?” he whispers.

In the blink of an eye, Charles is the one on his back on the bed with Max kneeling between his legs, his hands on either side of Charles’ head and their faces mere inches apart. When he speaks, Max’s breath ghosts over Charles’ lips.

“You think I can’t?” he asks, and Charles knows there’s only one right answer to that question.

But, the right answer won’t get him the Max Verstappen he so desperately wants tonight. So Charles gives the wrong one, lying through his teeth.

“No, I don’t think you can.”

And, well, Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.

He claims Charles’ mouth in a kiss that is every bit as frantic and desperate to prove something as Max feels, tongue and teeth doing everything in their power to steal every breath from Charles’ lungs as Max’s hips immediately take up a damn near brutal pace. And when Max pulls away from Charles’ lips in order to grab onto his hips to really start fucking the Monegasqué with vigor, Charles can do absolutely nothing except for hold on for dear life and letting the intense pleasure overtake him.

And when Charles comes with a scream that is loud enough to drown out the screams of the tifosi, Max is dragged right over the edge along with him.

The tifosi can scream the name of Ferrari’s golden boy all they want, because two-time World Champion Max Verstappen is the only one who can make Charles Leclerc scream his name in bed whenever the fuck he wants.

And if that makes Max feel more superior than winning any race or any championship ever has, then, well… That’s nobody’s business but his own. (And Charles’.)

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #37: Volta

Masterlist

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The next hotel didn’t have a free breakfast, nor did it have a chandelier. It was evidently cheaper than the other two, but it was passable. They were spending most of their time outside, in any case, so the only things they really needed were the beds.

Heather was standing by the newspapers. Jackie was standing by the corner-store’s window, watching people gather at a bus stop across the road. It was a bright and cheery January day. The sky was clear. Someone was feeding pigeons on the street, scattering seeds at a flock. This was a new city. Olympia. A majestic name, though he found it similar to Bellevue and Seattle and Redmond. Even if it was slightly colder. 

“Excuse me, can I take a look—“

Someone was trying to reach the chips aisle. Jackie stepped aside. “Sorry.”

“Hello. Enjoying the view?”

“Oh, it’s you.” Heather was standing beside him, looking smug. “View’s alright.”

“Take it in now, because we’re not staying for long.” She handed him the newspaper in her hand. “First article, third page.”

It was The Olympian. How creative. He folded the thin pages over until he arrived at the third one, where he was greeted by a very interesting sight, indeed.

“Missing Seattle exterminator’s car found near Deschutes river,” he read aloud. “Matthew was an exterminator?”

“Yes, he kept going on about nests. Keep reading.”

His gaze flicked a few lines down. It wasn’t a long article, only two paragraphs. “They think he was mauled by a bear?”

“It’s because they haven’t found the body yet,” she said with a concerning amount of pride. “The police have basically given up.”

The second paragraph was just a list of bear safety reminders. “I don’t understand why Matthew got his own article.”

“What? He went missing. That warrants an article.”

“I went missing—“

“Shh,“ she cut him off, glancing at the stranger picking through flavours of chips. “Keep it down, alright?”

He rolled his eyes, but his next words came in an urgent whisper. “It’s just that—what’s so special about Matthew, huh? I didn’t get an article. Where’s my name on the back of a milk carton? Why do they kick up a fuss about him going off the map, but not me?”

“Hey, I think you’re special.” Heather was in a good mood today, he noticed. “Besides, Matthew was an exterminator. There aren’t many good ones in Washington anymore. They all charge ridiculous fees, too.”

Also, Matthew had a wife and three kids, according to the article. They were probably expecting some sort of report. But that was neither here nor there. Dear old Mattie was sleeping with the fishes now, which was something Jackie had managed to one-up him on. “I’m surprised you came all the way out here to hide the car.”

She waited for the stranger beside them to pass before replying. “I’m thorough. Didn’t want it traced back to Seattle.”

“Is that why we came here? Returning to the scene of the crime?” He leaned forward. “Feeling guilty, are we? Seeing Matt in your dreams?”

“Yes, asking me if I have cockroaches in my attic.” She plucked the newspaper from his hands. “Olympia has great parks, too. But that’s irrelevant. Do you realize what this means?”

He shook his head.

“We can go home now,” she replied in a sunny voice. “The cops aren’t after me. We don’t have to hide out in hotels anymore.”

“Oh.” Going home. Away from the blue sky, the city, the raspy winter air and the gray crusts of snow. Back into the basement. A concrete box. A locked door. Waiting a lot, and sleeping to pass the time. Home sweet home. “That’s great.”

“Isn’t it?” Heather didn’t realize what she was saying, what she was telling him. Because she wasn’t the one who had to trade their freedom for a single room. To her, home meant she had all she ever needed. His perspective was resigned to the back of her mind, only relevant when she needed a list of symptoms or a number on a scale. She was ignorant, and therefore happy. She was thrilled.

“How long are we staying here?” he asked.

“Just the night.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. It wouldn’t do to get worked up. Trying to explain his discomfort would either get a dismissive wave of the hand or, worst case, an angry look. “Great.”

“Yes, the drive back home might take a few hours.” She didn’t notice a thing. “Traffic, you know. I’d like to get started early.”

They walked around and talked for a while. Jackie tried not to dwell on it. He thought he could be happy like this. Heather was good to him. Maybe he felt a bit restless sometimes, but he always had a companion and a roof over his head.

The problem wasn’t Heather. He loved Heather. He enjoyed her company. That was a given. The problem was Jackie. He was still a lab rat. He was still an object of study. 

No, that wasn’t it either. He would be content helping her in scientific research. What did a few drugs matter, when given such a blissful life? The problem was the house—yes, the house, how didn’t he see it before? Too many bad memories there. Too much bad blood. It stained him in its shadow and creaked as it shifted, like the crackling of thunder after lightning, old concrete and wood on the verge of splitting apart, an old hag of a house. In reality, it was probably quite new, but it felt ancient to him. A haunted house of sorts. Impossibly weathered and crawling with spite. 

Being locked in the basement was painful. For the lack of a better term. Agonizing. It was helpless inertia. It was anger with nowhere to go. So the feeling clawed and gnawed and ate him up, like a stomach empty of food, acid bubbling at the back of his throat. He wasted away. He went into decay. A corpse. A carcass. Immortality had little use when the hours turned into days which turned months which turned into years, unbearable and all the same. 

It was that memory that haunted him. He thought he could be okay if he was still allowed to leave, from time to time, but that was unrealistic. Heather barely let him touch the windows—out of safety concerns, of course, not any kind of senseless cruelty. Still, he didn’t want to go back to that. He didn’t want to go back. 

Just a child crying I don’t want to go home, throwing a fit over what couldn't be helped. This was ridiculous. He was getting anxious over nothing. So he forced the thought to die off. He was not home yet, at least. He was on a bench in a park in Olympia, with Heather, and everything was going to be okay.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

She smiled, a little nervously. Her eyebrows were the tiniest bit tense. “Christ above. What are you looking at?”

He was startled out of his trance—he sat up, lifted his head off his hand, stopped gnawing at the inside of his lip. “Oh, sorry, were you saying something?”

“Yes, I was just talking about the weather.” She scrutinized him, while he tried to look as content as possible. “Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded with all the energy he could muster. “I’m feeling great, why?”

“It’s just… you’ve been glaring at nothing for five minutes, at least. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Jackie,” she said softly, leaning in a bit. “Be honest. I can tell that you’re upset.”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

She gave him a wounded look.

He sighed, rubbed at his face. “Sorry. I think I’m hungry.”

She looked less wounded. This was a problem she could fix. It was an issue of biology, her specialty. “You should have said so. I saw a restaurant near the hotel.”

“Cool.” Being able to order food from a restaurant, going to parks, watching the passersby with their cute little dogs and their webbed umbrellas. He tried to ignore the dread, but this was all making him feel worse.

He remembered what Heather said, about her death. Being free to go. It wouldn’t last forever. He would be free one day. He hated her for it. Making him love her, then making him grieve, dangling the promise of freedom after completely gutting him. Bait on a hook of immeasurable loss. He hated her, he wanted her dead, he wanted to never talk to her again, and he wanted her to hold him and tell him that everything would turn out okay. He imagined stabbing her until she finally shut up. He wanted to cry into her shoulder. He loved her so much; he knew he wasn't safe; he thought the tension would break him before the drugs ever could. 

This wouldn’t last forever, he knew that, but it was happening now. How could he live forty or fifty years locked away? He was not a god. He could not exist without any attachment or desire. He was a mortal in the wrong body. An entire lifetime would pass him by, restless and spiteful, while he rotted underground. Maybe that was a brief volta to the divine, but he was only a man. 

He loved Heather on condition, he thought. When she was kind, when she let him pretend to live a normal life. Because this was really all pretend. Playing house. It would fall apart the second he decided to contradict her. After so long alone, hearing her voice was all he ever wanted, but that happiness was starting to fade. His insistent thoughts of love and kindness grew lethargic, a little less enthusiastic. 

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

He thought of telling her. The day came to a close. He curled up in bed, underneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling. 

She wouldn’t care. That would hurt more than anything, somehow. Jackie just wanted to be taken seriously. Or she’d tell him that it was a necessary precaution, that they could keep living in hotels, and end the conversation there. If she panicked, he might not be able to bargain with her any further. Telling her would only make it worse.

So, what? What was he suggesting? Escape? He would play the Houdini again. It wasn't impossible. He didn't want to risk calling the police, not when he was always near her every hour of the day. Someone as careful as Heather would notice. And there was not a chance he was attempting murder again. But he could walk out. Just… walk out the door. Disappear.

And go where, exactly? Go live on the street? Find money, how—beg? Steal? He had no money to start with, no driver’s license, not even a health card. More importantly, would he really abandon Heather like that? Their trust was already shaky. That would break her heart in two, if he just up and left. She would never let him outside again. The cost of failure was high, and if she decided to punish him for disobedience, it would most certainly be painful.

The only other alternative was going back home. He’d go back to that cage, waiting, sleeping, eating sometimes, waiting for the drugs to wear off, asking to follow her upstairs just to exist in another room. The door was wide open if he wanted it. He could leave at that very moment. It would be so easy to leave. If he was unhappy after that, then it would be his own fault, his own choice to stay and keep his head down. 

But Heather!

What about Heather? She’d get over it. Oh, she’d mourn over the loss of her friend—and also her key to immortality—but there were plenty of other fish in the sea. If she wanted someone else to torment, then she only needed to walk down the street and point her gun. He would miss her, too, but he was used to being alone. It was nothing new.

But… Heather.

She was standing in front of the bed, furrowed brows and tight, straight mouth. “Do you feel sick?”

“I can’t get sick, remember?”

“Yes, but you could have…” She hesitated with the words. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine, Heather. I’m completely okay. I’m just tired.” 

He continued staring at the ceiling. She left the topic alone and began packing her things.

It was something he wasn’t used to. To be cared for. Something as simple as a question made him nervous. It was an unfamiliar concept. Jackie couldn’t remember his mother at all. Jackie’s father was a subject better left alone. His sisters were either dead or missing. His friends from work probably forgot he existed. His neighbors probably didn’t know he existed in the first place. Heather was the only person in the entire world who gave a damn about him. To lose that would be difficult. Loneliness was always difficult after the warmth of company. But what good was company when it came at the cost of his humanity, his identity, his self?

Exactly. It was a question of humanity. He was not her equal partner, if they were being blunt about it. If Heather wanted to flay him alive, he really did not have a say in the matter. His personhood and choice was stolen, and now it belonged to someone else. Kindness be damned. Love be damned. Those didn’t change the facts of the situation. It wasn’t like his input mattered to her. He had to be nice and sweet and charming regardless of anything she did, or risk losing a few comforts. 

He loved Heather, but love had nothing to do with this, so… that was it, then. His decision was already made. Escape attempt number… two. Or three. Jackie couldn’t remember. But the numbers were for scientists. This was nothing more than sleight-of-hand.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

[atrwriting]

chapter two -- the wolf and the dragon (aemond x you)

super original title right

captain 'barely proofreads' reporting for duty with another chapter

as always, warnings: no smut (sorry i know), violence, sexism, alcoholism

you fell into a routine soon after the arrangements were made: wake up, work your normal business hours, politely kick out all of your employees after closing duties were finished, and retreat to your apartment so the targaryen brothers could do what they pleased with your business downstairs. it proved rather difficult to ignore the louder screams, but from a peak out of your bedroom window you realized men were never carrying a body over their shoulder. you considered that a win. busted and bruised men walked away from your building, aegon and aemond usually left after a drink or two, and while you probably should’ve felt wary… you didn’t. you would breathe a sigh of relief at every sight.

there were times where you would venture out from your bedroom late at night in search of the comfort that the sting of jose cuervo down your throat provided you when you couldn’t sleep. you tried not to, as you were a firm believer in curiosity killed the cat, but some nights proved more difficult than others.

“my brother told me you liked to venture out late at night,” a tired and raspy voice spoke when you found yourself downstairs in the bar one night. “never thought i’d make the acquaintance with smiley face pajamas.”

aegon targaryen. you sighed.

“you’ll be waiting a bit on the pajamas,” you spat. “after hours visitors means i am completely covered. when i’m in search of a night cap, that is.”

he smacked his tongue against the back of his teeth. “damn shame. stark women are always a sight. mean, but always a sight.”

“i’m quite pleasant when i’m not being bothered,” you grumbled, grabbing two glasses. “poison?”

“beer, doll,” he rasped. “i’m about as bothered tonight as you always seem.”

“not something stronger?” you genuinely asked. “you look like you need it.”

he shook his head. “business to take care.”

“damn shame,” you sighed. “you’re nicer when you’re drunk.”

he chuckled. “next time.”

you fished out a cold bottle before pouring yourself tequila. aegon’s gaze was far away, even though he stared at the top of the bar. the wood was cracked and worn and it definitely didn’t deserve as much attention as he was giving it, which meant he was in another world.

“do you need to talk about it?” you ventured.

he was still before a small smile was brought to his lips. “pillow talk is reserved for post-sex. and… sweetheart, you don’t want to know.”

you shook your head. “you and your brother are so cryptic.”

“you studied law, right?”

you narrowed your eyes. “how did you know about that?”

“jimmy loved to talk about you,” he laughed, trailing off. “but, anyway… you of all people should know that if you’re kept in the dark, no one can charge you with being an accomplice.”

“aiding and abetting is still floating in the air,” you snapped.

"only if they can prove it," he quipped.

suddenly, a loud crash was heard from below your feet. you immediately jumped, but aegon didn’t move a muscle. your gaze snapped to him, but he remained unbothered.

“should we…”

“no,” he stated. “my brother will take care of it.”

that’s when you heard aemond’s loud scream. you both ran for the basement door.

it was stupid to follow the sound of the scream, but you couldn’t help yourself. if you got in front of aegon, that meant he couldn’t stop you because he was more worried about his brother than making sure the small bartender didn’t see what secrets were hiding in her basement. barreling down the steps, you both looked around the room trying to catch your breath.

“fuck—“ aemond gasped.

aemond was wrestling with an unknown man in the middle of the floor. the man had a piece of tape lingering on his forehead, and one piece on his cheek, meaning aemond had tried to dull the man’s senses. discarded ropes were on the flood, a chair has been thrown to the ground, and you immediately gasped before throwing yourself into the fight.

the man was on top of aemond, holding him down by the throat with his knees pressed into aemond’s shoulders. his intent to kill was so strong — and probably also the pain from the torture he had endured minutes before — that you successfully hopped over the man and wrapped your forearm around the man’s throat, having his chin rest tightly in the crook of your elbow. you yanked his weight back, holding his throat in your grasp. he struggled against your hold, but no one's strength could last for that long when their air supply was cut off. headlocks were your favorite.

“fucking bitch — where did you —“

you weren’t very strong, but aemond had done a number on the man before that he gave away easy when you hauled him off aemond and to his feet. he was struggling against your forearm, but there was no strength or adrenaline left in him to try and kick our your legs. kicking him in the back of his knee, coupled with the loss of oxygen, he fell to his hands and knees on the hard cement. you held him in place before aegon had finally stepped in, smacking the man upside the head with the handle of his handgun.

“thank god you had the next move because i usually flip the channel before a poor asshole gets knocked out,” you breathed heavily, placing your hands on your hips.

aegon eyed you quizzically, genuinely confused. “and miss the best part?”

you rolled your eyes.

aemond got to his feet and immediately cast daggers at his brother. his face was red, bloody, severely bruised, and his glare seemed hazier than usual.

“you let her down here?” aemond bit.

aegon shrugged. “smiley’s fast.”

aemond was seething, “you let her best you? more than once?”

aegon quirked an eyebrow. “i wasn’t the only one bested it seems. you don’t look well, brother.”

“come upstairs,” you ordered aemond. “we need to reset your nose.”

“it’s not broken!” aemond grunted, casting a glare your way.

you rolled your eyes. “i can tell it is. aegon can deal with… him.”

aegon let out a sigh of discontent before he muttered how he should’ve taken the vodka over the beer. you went up the stairs as aemond followed reluctantly behind you.

“whiskey or vodka?” you asked, grabbing your kit from under the bar and gesturing him to sit down at one of the stools.

“tequila,” he stated.

you nodded before pouring him a glass. “what happened?”

“don’t ask.”

you sighed. “...alrighty then. how’s the pain?”

“it’s fine.”

“not a man of 'tmi,' are you?”

“nor a man of many words,” he spat. “especially when you knew you weren’t supposed to be down there.”

“seeing as though aegon looked worried, i figured it was allowed.”

“it’s never allowed. you know better,” he spat as you disinfected his wounds.

“yeah, well…” you sighed, trailing off. “your eye socket is okay… but under your patch is bleeding. can i… check?”

he swallowed thickly and paused. he nodded reluctantly.

you removed his eyepatch and set it down on the bar next to you. he was sure to have a black eye in the morning, even if only a sapphire jewel rested in his socket. what remained of his eyelid was split, but nothing too worrisome.

“first time i’ve ever seen you get got this bad,” you sighed. “usually you walk out untouched.”

“and it will be the last time,” he said through gritted teeth, like a warning.

you chuckled, lacing his patch back on. “mad a girl got him off of you?”

he grabbed your wrist suddenly then and glared at you. also a warning.

you sucked in a sharp breath as you stared back at him, frozen. his angry eye remained on you as you tried to shrug off his hold, successfully getting out of it before returning to your work.

“was only joking,” you grumbled. “finish your tequila… i have to reset your nose.”

with his eye still on you, aemond slammed his tequila and placed the glass back down on the bar. he swallowed thickly and gestured for you to continue. your jaw tensed as you reached for the side of his face with one hand, his nose in the other, and snapped it back into place in a swift movement.

“fuck-!” aemond grunted through gritted teeth, leaning closer towards you in pain.

“all better,” you said, pressing gauze underneath his nostrils to catch any stray blood. “you’re a bleeder, aemond, jesus…”

he ignored you. “where did you learn to do this?”

you swallowed. “bartenders should.”

“came in handy,” he sighed, reaching for the stray tequila bottle and pouring himself another glass. he finished his pour quickly before pouring another. “saved me a trip to our shit doctor.”

you chuckled. “do you need pain meds?”

he shook his head. “tequila is fine.”

he went to get up, but his shoulders were swaying. you immediately grabbed him by the arm to steady him. “tequila is fine, but it’s strong… sit down.”

reluctantly, he sat back down. “i need to make sure aegon doesn’t need help.”

“there’s only one way to get out of that basement,” you reminded him. “we’ll hear either him or that guy running up it, hopefully not the latter, if they need you. you should rest. you’re no use to anyone like this.”

aemond didn’t respond, and you didn’t think it was right to push it. you left him at the end of the bar with his glass and his tequila, and passed him a cup of water. you turned on the frier and started making chicken tenders and fries to curb his drunkenness. as you both waited for aegon, you tidied up the bar as he sat there quietly. through his injured eye, his gaze was trained on the bar. his exhaustion and annoyance was obvious, and you hoped it wasn’t being worsened by the tequila.

unlike his brother... he wasn't nicer when he was drunk.

the frier signaled it was done, and you immediately retreated behind the bar to the kitchen. grabbing his food and condiments and going back to him, you served him his food.

“you should eat. tequila’s deadly on an empty stomach.”

he picked up a fry. “so is no sleep. aegon needs to hurry up.”

“do you want me to check?” you asked.

“no,” he grunted. “he’ll be up soon.”

you busied yourself once more, hoping to pass the time. aemond ate silently, and thankfully finished his food. you threw in more food for aegon, thinking he probably would want a bite to eat after he came up — and his own bottle, but that was a different story.

aegon came up shortly after you had plated his food, and the man from before left out your front door without acknowledging anyone. the two brothers didn't bat an eye, let along glance in the unknown's man direction as they let him leave. you eyed the door curiously, and then the brothers, and threw your hands up in annoyance.

“you knocked him out with a glock!" you stated with eyes trained on the both of them.

aegon shrugged. “these for me?”

you shook your head in disbelief. “y-yes… here’s your vodka. why is he allowed to just walk out of here?”

“killing is messy,” aegon settled calmly. “he won’t cause trouble after this.”

“why’s that?” you demanded.

“we’re a team of two, sweetheart,” he reminded, shoveling food in his mouth and washing it down with vodka. “we have no need for an accomplice. and, right now: i’m a team of one. on that note, i need to get laid, so i’ll be off... unless you’re willing to take one for the team, sweetheart.”

you scoffed. “i’m not a member, as you just reminded me — so, no, find another victim."

he winked before walking away. “aemond, i’m taking the car.”

“drop me off first?!”

“nope,” and he left.

aemond sat and stared at the door, and then also shook his head in disbelief. he muttered a few insults under his breath as you contemplated your next move.

“i’d drive you, but i’ve been drinking,” you said.

he ignored you.

you shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “you can… crash here… if you promise that was the last visitor of the night.”

he looked up at you and narrowed his eyes. “and why would you let me do that?”

“seems like you don’t have another ride,” you shrugged. “also, scary men are less scary when you’re nice to them. you’re grumpy.”

“i’ll pass.”

you rolled your eyes, sighing. “i’m off then. goodnight aemond.”

you didn’t expect him to come up. you really didn’t. you figured he had found a ride, called some broad, overstayed his welcome and kept eating chicken fingers downstairs, or aegon had busted a nut too quickly and came back around to apologize to his brother. actually, scratch the apology. probably just finished his dick appointment and picked up his brother.

no matter what happened, you didn’t expect him to come up that night. so what did you do? you planted yourself on the couch and watched sitcom reruns. there wasn’t much else to do at 1am when it was difficult to fall asleep at a normal hour, and you were too frightened to venture downstairs and find another nightcap. so you laughed along to chandler bing, and tried to drift off to sleep.

emphasis on tried. you were comfortable, snuggled up in your favorite blanket and cute pajamas, and exhaustion was about to take you when you heard your front door knob began to twist.

fuck.

despite your dream like state, you immediately jumped up when the intruder showed himself.

aemond targaryen.

you threw your hands up in anguish. “i was about to go for a knife!”

he pursed his lips. “my apologies.

you sighed, retreating to a defeated stance with your hands on your hips. “take the bed in the other room.”

his brow furrowed. “i’m not taking your bed from you.”

you rolled your eyes. “a woman in hospitality doesn’t let guests sleep on her couch. plus, i’m watching television.”

“fine,” he replied with reluctance, stepping into your living room. “then i’m watching bad sitcoms too.”

[salamanderinspace]

How Many Holes Make a Grave Digger?

short Good Omens season 2 fic. On Ao3 also.

(full disclosure: I didn't watch episodes 5 and 6.)

Elspeth tried to "be good." She went to a more reputable inn for the night, but only ordered corn porridge--that's what a good one does, yeah? Good and virtuous ladies don't make themselves fat on roast in the middle of the week. She only took one pint and turned in early. In the morning, she had a wash--something she never enjoyed, what with the cold and the damp creeping in her ears and making her feel all moldy.

When she went down to pay, she gave the barman a guinnea, and waited for her change at the bar. A lot of sad sacks were strewn around at midday, out of work and out of hope, burying themselves in ale. Some looked at her a little too long. Too too long, in fact, as the barman didn't return. "Oi!" she called. "My change, sir?" He didn't come out. What does a good and virtuous young woman do? she wondered. Certainly not go jumping over bars and making demands. She looked around, and as she did, luck would have it, she saw someone pass out the window. A constable. She ran him down, catching him on the sleeve, at which he drew his baton.

"What's this?" he barked.

"This innkeeper is jacking me for my change, sir," Elspeth explained. "I paid him a guinnea and he went in the back."

"Oh yeah?" He looked her up and down. "And where'd a rat like you get a guinnea? Found it in the gutter, didja? Run off or I'll take you to the station."

He seemed to mean it, so Elspeth did as she was told. She kept the rest of the money close, after that. She thought of going to a lawyer but couldn't be sure he wouldn't do just the same. No--she needed to look like a credible lady, first, so she went to a shop and ordered a dress. "Can't I just wear it out?" she asked.

"I've got to order the fabric," the tailor lady huffed. "And it'll take time to do the adjustments. You never bought a dress before?" She looked suspicious.

"Me mum handled all that," Elspeth lied. "Before she passed." The fib was automatic, and the urchin kicked herself after. Lying wasn't "being good," was it?

The lady said to come back next week, so it was another week sleeping in the gutter. Without Wee Morag to watch over her, Elspeth couldn't rest but in short snips, for the danger of men lurking. She developed a cough. In a week she fetched the dress and paid the hefty price for it, and with a hefty tip, the tailor let her have a wash there. "You're not going to ruin it with your filthy streaks," she said, but she looked sympathetic.

Elspeth went and got a bite to eat. She felt desperately sleepy, after, but still had nowhere to lay her head, and she figured she should go straight to a law office. "I'm here to buy a farm," she announced, after waiting on the hard chairs in the waiting room. Her dress was too warm in some places and too cool in others. She couldn't slouch properly in her chair, either, as that would pull on the laces.

"And your husband?" asked the law man, without looking up from his letters.

"Dead," Elspeth said. Another lie.

"Sorry to hear it," he said, not sounding sorry. "Well, what's the property in question?"

"Was hoping you'd help me find one."

"Were you?" He looked up at that, and raised a brow. "That can be a time-consuming matter," he said. "My hourly rate--"

"Yeah, I can pay," she answered.

"Very well. Come back next week, and we'll look at a few properties."

That bit went as smoothly as one could hope. Most places were out of Elspeth's price range, and she had to settle for a very wee lot with only a few sheep and chickens established. "Will you be needing to hire day labor?" the lawyer asked.

"Ah, no, I've got it," Elspeth said. She signed the papers and the lawyer left her with a bill. The house on the land was small and dark--no windows. The only nice thing about it was that she could hunt and fish at her leisure--though she'd have to teach herself how to do the fishing, as she'd never had a proper pole for it.

The days were long and lonely and hard. The lies came often. Merchants who wouldn't do business with an unwed woman. Merchants who tried to take her for twice the value of their goods. The money ran out before winter and she was forced to creep into the neighboring manor's coal-cellar and take a little, just a little, to get through. She imagined herself as a miner, digging for ores. Sometimes there was pretend and sometimes there were lies and it all ran together.

She'd imagine Wee Morag with her. Would talk to her, make jokes, even share a touch or two. She began to wonder, after all she'd seen with the two strange men in the graveyard and their dark magick, if spirits were a great deal realer than she'd thought when she was hawking corpses. She'd never seen a ghost, after all, not until … whatever those men were. On her market days she dawdled at the occultists' stall, and eventually struck up a conversation.

And her cough never really went away.

The days were a river of sameness. The same chores, the same dark and damp. She planted crops, which got blight and died. Paying the doctor for a bad lambing wiped out her savings. The sun rose and set and she drank and slept and it started to feel like there was very little reason not to go and get another vile of laudanum.

And if there was nothing to lose. What could it hurt to..?

That's how Elspeth found herself under the full moon, with the occultist and his eleven apprentices. The smell of charcoal and goat's blood, of briars and late-season lavender. The crisp air of October. Her heart beat with the chanting, the initiation. She called out to Wee Morag and felt her return. She swore herself to her Dark Master. She was no longer alone. She would never be alone again.

And she would never "be good."

[awigglycultist]

Incorrect quotes except it's really just mine and @indigos-shits-and-giggles Hatchetfield rp characters & ocs and also @peterstankoffski & @atty-goldstein at one point and also this has been in my drafts forever so over half of these I put in here were months ago

Toby: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I'm somehow always feeling both simultaneously.

~~~

Arche: Yeah, I don't like people

Sunny: Oh, well now that's not fair Arche. Have you met all of them?

Arche: I've met enough of them. People. What a bunch of bastards!

~~~

Toby & Ted: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

Ted: We need an adult!

Toby: Ted, you are an adult!

Ted: We need an adultier adult! Get Kurtis!

~~~

Pete: You need a hobby

Ted: I have a hobby!

Pete: Hitting on Gary Goldstein isn't a hobby

~~~

Lily: Arche and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us

David: What did you do?

Lily: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and-

Arche: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel

~~~

Jas: A decision had to be made

Toby: And you fucked it up!

~~~

Arche: Do you always have to attack me with your words?

Neptune: Would you prefer me to use a brick?

~~~

Jas: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner

Alice: Jas, It's 1:15 am, what the fuck

Jas: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not

Alice: Well, I mean yeah

Jas: So come downstairs while they're still hot

Alice: Wait, you just made them?

Jas: Yeah, I wasn't tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets

Alice: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Jas

~~~

Kidnapper: I have your partner

Sunny: What? I don't have a partner...

Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?

Sunny: Oh my god, you have Neptune

~~~

Alfie: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Lily?

Lily: …I’m sorry

Alfie: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

~~~

Ted: Look, I'm glad everyone's on the same page

Ted: But it's the last page in a book titled "we're all going to die".

Jas: That's not even clever

~~~

Arche, to Sunny: You have room temperature IQ

Sunny: What's room temperature IQ?

Toby: 73°

Sunny: Oh, okay

Sunny: How much is that in IQ?

~~~

Ted: Don't stay up all night, Toby. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt

~~~

David: Knock, knock

Neptune: Who's there?

David: Boo!

Neptune: Boo who?

David: Why are you crying?

Neptune: I'm not crying

David: Hello notcrying, I'm Mr. Anderson

~~~

Ted: How the hell are you still alive?

Toby: Honestly, I'm just as confused as you are

~~~

Ted: I didn't drink that much last night

Pete: You were flirting with Gary

Ted: So what? He's my boyfriend

Pete: You asked if he was single

Pete: And then you cried when he said he wasn't

~~~

Sunny: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products!

Sunny: *sprays hairspray in their mouth*

Sunny: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good

~~~

Wesly: Self-care is suppressing all your trauma until it comes back and hits you in the face with the force of 7 very large trucks.

~~~

Arche: I wouldn’t wish that upon my worse enemy!

Arche: Unless of course. . We’re talking about my enemy, Neptune. Fuck you Neptune, you know what you did!

~~~

Jas: I’m in love with you

Toby: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork

Jas: I know

Toby: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

~~~

Neptune: I’m in love with you

Sunny: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork

Neptune: I know

Sunny: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

~~~

Neptune, in a high voice, holding Barbie: Hey, Ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

Sunny, in a deep voice, holding Ken: Nonsense, Barbie. You’re staying home and having my kids

David, walking back into class after printing out papers: What the fuck are you guys doing?

Neptune: Playing systemic oppression

~~~

Sunny: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Neptune a little bit

Arche, holding Sunny's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation

Sunny: No, that's our joint tombstone

Arche: My mistake

~~~

Wesley: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are

~~~

Arche: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Sunny: *crouches down*

Lily: *kneels down*

Neptune: *sits on the floor*

Arche:

Arche: I hate all of you

~~~

Alfie: ATTENTION: I HAVE BREACHED CONTAINMENT.

Alfie: DO NOT PANIC, I AM SIMPLY GETTING A SNACK.

[psylockexs]

New players on the board

Morgyn wasn't sure if Mikhail had a few loose screws in his head after hearing about their dinner plans. However, it was still the period for Solstice festivities as the new year was a few days away. The group needed some down time as well since they were still fighting in the dark, to put it simply. Having to find an ancient deck of cards was one hardship, but to have Olive mess up one of their own was a different can of fish. Perhaps, it was time to think about who were their allies, if they even had any.

But, enough of those thoughts for one night. It was time for a (HOPEFULLY!) peaceful dinner at the local restaurant 😄.

https://on.soundcloud.com/cKVAQnBqQ5x61uKV7

The restaurant wasn't as fancy as it sounded, but it was quite pleasant. The lighting was welcoming, staff didn't keep smiles plastered on their faces. They weaved between tables, greeting the patrons and taking orders. That in itself was better than fake smiles 🤭.

The tables were nicely arranged as well. Niko picked a table that was near a window and some plants. Lorelei took a moment to sniff the air from the plants.

Lore: They smell fresh 😯.

Niko: nods while perusing the menu Yep. I guess they were put in over the last two weeks. I can still smell the fresh dew on them.

Morg: You can smell all that?

Niko: nods Lycans always have something unique to them. My pack's ability was that they could smell more than humans could. Hell, probably even better than a vampire at times.

Morg: Crazy. Which reminds me. Should I...tell them?

Morgyn looked at Mik in a questioning manner

Mik: Yeah, you should.

Morg: It seems my ancestry's a mess. Got a mix of humans, casters and vampires...well, according to Mikhail.

Lore: Really? That's a strange one. I mean, you just look normal to me.

Mik: See, that's the thing. I don't think any of us could sense it until I drained him this morning.

Lore: You gotta work on your wording, Mik shakes her head laughing

Mik: Maybe you should work on your interpretation 😉. Either way, it's something we gotta keep an eye on. And we should limit our contact with Olive. Whatever we need to do in this town, we do it alone from now on. If we need help, we'll have to outsource.

Niko: I agree with that. Although, don't consider the Specter kid as an anomaly. If I'm to bet, he's unaware of his mother's behavior. He might be useful.

Morg: True. Now, can we order? The smell is driving me nuts.

The waiters had warned them that the food could take a while to arrive as the place was quite busy. The wait was well worth it though. It was unlikely you'd find a place in Ravenwood that made garlic bread this good, or knew how to fry up chicken in batter to rival KFC. It was just what the folks needed after the grueling months they'd had 😄.

After they'd finished eating and paid the bill, Lorelei heard a familiar voice across the room, but couldn't recognize the other guy 🤔.

Mik: Hey, ain't that your boyfriend?

Lore: Neighbor, Mik and we're friends 😒.

Mik: Ehhhh I don't know. You don't look at him like a friend would. Who's the other hunk?

Lore: I don't know, never seen him before. Let's say hi.

Lore and Mikhail headed over to where Min-ho was chatting with the other guy. It was strange for Min-ho to be here just days after talking to Lorelei on the phone.

Lore: Min-ho! Hey!

Min: Lore? Fancy seeing you here! I thought you'd be at the club this evening! They kiss each other on the cheek

Lore: Heh, already been this week. It was Niko's idea to dine here tonight.

Min: Nice intuition then, I'd say 😉.

While the two friends caught up, the guy next to Min-ho seemed to have lost his voice. Any desire to talk vanished into thin air. The floor seemed way more interesting than Mikhail. Lorelei noticed the icy silence behind Min-ho, and decided to ease up the air.

Lore: Who's your friend, by the way? Lodger? 🤭

Min: Ha! You meet new people often, Lore? Gotta work on your intro, man!

Lore: My intro is just fine!

Min: Yeah? Well you scared my guy into staying silent. nods to him

Lore: offers her hand Lorelei 😊

Shin: 🤝Shin Taeyang. Sorry, I...don't do well with first meetings 😅.

Lore: Oh, don't sweat it. It can be overwhelming, I know that too well. Or were you intimidated by the redhead?

Shin: Umm, maybe? 😆

Mik: Damn, am I really that scary?

Min: Mmmm sometimes...

Lore felt her skin twitch as Taeyang shook her hand. She wasn't quite sure what that feeling was, especially since he was wearing gloves. There was nothing unusual about him, except his sleek looks. But then again, Lore seems to have a talent of drawing hot people around her 🤷‍♀️.

Lore: So, what brings you so far out, Min. With new company as well.

Min: Taeyang just got back from Tomarang. We've been buds a long time but we each went different countries for business.

Mik: Interesting. eyes him up and down

Tae: I needed a place to crash for a while, so called up Min. I didn't know he had such a large friend net. He used to be a loner!

Min: Ah ah ah! We're too sober for that kinda talk!

Tae: Hmph 😆.

Mik: Back to Lore's question. Little far from home.

Min: Honestly needed a change of scenery. I've celebrated New Year's in San My for so long, it no longer feels fun there. Out here though? It feels kinda special.

Lore: Yeah, I get that. Needed a breather from all this work that's just piling up and it won't seem to stop. A break is always welcome.

Min: nods Aight, I'd love to stay and catch up with you guys, but we gotta check into our hotel soon. looks towards Lore, then he mentally speaks to her I'll text you my room number. There's a reason me and Tae are here.

With that ominous message, Taeyang and Min-ho bade farewell to the others and headed for their hotel...

'Mmm. Delectable. Me first 😏.'

Upstairs in the restaurant

Mikhail and Lorelei walk back to tell the other two they're ready to go

Lore: Don't even think about it.

Mik: What?

Lore: You scared the poor guy speechless! You gotta work on that aura you give off.

Mik: I did nothing of the sort. He saw me and went quiet. Not my doing.

Lore: You still appear really intimidating though.

Mik: It's my natural charm, sweetie. What did Min-ho say? He's clearly not here for leisure.

Lore: He said he'll text me the room number so I can pop in. He seemed to be in his sentry mode.

Mik: He's on high alert?

Lore: Yep. Pretty sure I sensed someone similar to Olive here, but not sure. Anyway, I'll just wait for the text then see.

Mik: Mm. Or you could just talk in a dream and relay it to us. Surely you're just going to talk and not see what the new boy is packing. 😏

Lore: narrows her eyes You're unbearable, you know that?

Mik: You didn't deny it!

Lore: And you won't stop putting that idea in my head! You can't drain everyone you see, you know.

Mik: I'm a vampire, Lady Than. Not an incubus.

Lore: Having a hard time believing that! 🤭

Who knows? Maybe it is true, but that's small compared to what Min-ho and Taeyang are walking into 🤔.

[winderlylandchime]

3/3 *pauses tv* WHAT DID I SAY! BRIAN GET YOUR FLUFFY ASS HERE, YOU NEED TO SEE YOUR ANCESTORS FINALLY ADMITTING THEIR BIG BOY FEELINGS (Brian didnt come bc he’s hiding) and what would you do differently? Tell Blondie you love him two seasons ago? I’m surprised he doesn’t have Justins painting on the bedroom wall. Imagine if he did that during guitarist era. Back to love confessions! MORE TIME WITH GUS? I fuck with it. I love this path, it’s about to go to the i love you city!! AND I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WAITING! JUSTIN IS ALSO FISHING!’ *he is sitting so stupidly that one wrong move would make him fall on the floor and hes mumbling* ‘come on, say it. Say it, say it (Brian says hed like Justin to move back in) HUH? (Brian says hed like it if they lived together) DOUBLE HUH? I thought you already did? (Justin says if hes proposing) what the fuck? Where the fuck did that come from? What does that have to do with anything?’ (Brian is now talking about wanting to be with Justin) ‘so youre telling me there was running back and forth and borrowing clothes AND I DIDNT SEE THAT? Yall couldn’t even give me Mike or Ted or Debbie jokingly pointing out that one of them is wearing the others clothes? I was robbed. (Brian now says the ‘as for the times’ line) OH MY FUCKING GOD. BITCH IVE BEEN WAITING TOO JUSTIN! IVE BEEN ROOTING FOR YALL MORE THAN YOU! *he is now standing up with hands in his hair and looking at me like he just did every drug in the world* ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS?! Come on Bri, say it! Its right there, i know it. Why isn’t Justin saying anything? What’s going on? SAY YES BITCH.’ Mikey and Ben came up on screen and he sat down and let out the biggest sigh ‘havent i seen enough of you? You got married, you had a baby, you had a little dance and a cake. GIVE ME MY MEN BACK! Mike, no offense but can you have your midlife crisis in the next season? There’s like two minutes left and ive had a total of 10 minutes of Brian and Justin.’ Mike says they dont live in canada and their marriage isnt real *big sigh* ‘then fuck off to Canada, do whatever just give me back my boys!’ He is stressed out. He took his sweater off cause he got so heated. And the ep ends with Ben/Mikey having sex and he is NOT happy. He is staring at the tv as if it fell from the sky ‘what..the.. fuck..hold up. What? *looks around confused* Hold up. Wait what?’ He got up and walked around ‘SO hold up. *he is now standing in front of the tv..imagine the her sister is a witch video!!* SO I GET BRIAN AND JUSTIN AFTER NOT HAVING THEM FOR OVER A FULL EPISODE. AND BRIAN KINDA CONFESSES HIS BIG BOY FEELINGS AND ASKS HIM IF HE SHOULD CLEAR OUT SPACE IN THE CLOSET WHICH JUSTIN HASNT SAID YES TO YET. AND THEN CUT TO THESE TWO?! AFTER I HAD TO WATCH THEM THE WHOLE EPISODE? Be fucking honest, how much did Mike pay the writers for this shit because this is dumb! Where is Justin kissing hum and saying yes to moving in? Where is brian and justin fucking all soft cause he’s broken? Lets be real, nobody cares about these two. WHAT JUST HAPPENED? *walks out and rushes back* WHERE THE FUCK IS MY I LOVE YOU? I thought we all agreed it was time to say it? AND WHAT ABOUT LA? Is that out the window because he moved in? DID he move in? Stupid mike and his constant cockblocking *goes outside to smoke while yelling through a closed glass door* bullshit! I want my money back! He was supposed to sa- (here is where my neighbor came out to see wtf was going on and i joined them) oh hey, just one sec, ill be right with you. -say i love you! Thats what i wanted! I mean come on you gotta admit it was leading up to it! Stupid! I mean not really because he did say it in a way. He asked him to move in which i thought they already did but okay. And thats a big deal. This fully ruins my plans for what I thought season 5 will be like. *turns to the neighbor while she stared us* girl, can you make a coffee for me and can we talk cause you will not believe the shit I am going through. And-BRIAN! There you are! Get your fucking ass off the tree before you fall! One broken Brian is enough!’

SO I GET BRIAN AND JUSTIN AFTER NOT HAVING THEM FOR OVER A FULL EPISODE. AND BRIAN KINDA CONFESSES HIS BIG BOY FEELINGS AND ASKS HIM IF HE SHOULD CLEAR OUT SPACE IN THE CLOSET WHICH JUSTIN HASNT SAID YES TO YET. AND THEN CUT TO THESE TWO?! AFTER I HAD TO WATCH THEM THE WHOLE EPISODE?

Well, that sums up the end of S4 in a nutshell and perfectly too. And, your brother won’t believe it, but this is better than the end of S5 so…

I hope cat Brian is okay! One broken Brian is enough!

[tangledinink]

whoa, i wrote a thing. the first chapter of my tmnt "sorry, teenage mutant what now?" au is live on ao3, or can be read below the cut!!! complete with sketchy title card and dumb chapter title. do i have any real experience writing fics??? no!!! am i gonna do my best anyway!?!? yes i am!!!

“Did you drink all the milk AGAIN!? Dude!—"

“What?! You know I need an exact milk-to-rice-chex ratio in order to enjoy my breakfast, Leo!”

“Have any of you seen my dance bag? It’s not where I left it!”

“Why do you need it, anyway? Isn’t dance on Thursday?”

“Leo, today is Thursday.”

“What? No, it’s not. If it was Thursday, then my American Literature essay would be due, and I haven’t even started it yet, so there’s NO WAY—“

“If my toaster is destroyed, I will be making whichever child is responsible pay for the replacement!” The warning rang out over the general chaos of the morning.

“Oh shoot—“ Yoshi could hear the frantic scrabble of a belated attempt to rescue the burning pop tart, which Yoshi could smell from all the way in the living room. Parked in his reclining chair, the TV playing in front of him, he munched contentedly on his own breakfast which he had acquired earlier before his teenage sons descended upon the kitchen. He was not much of a ‘morning person,’ but it was a necessity if he was to eat in any sort of peace in the mornings.

This was a typical morning in the Hamato household.

Yoshi was used to it by now. The bickering, the bumbling, the hectic last-minute "wait I forgot something's--" it was all just a part of the routine. Sure, it had been a bit exhausting at times when they were all still children, and he had to scramble about like a madman each morning to ensure they had everything they needed to get where they were going. But at this point? He could more or less just ignore them and allow them to work things out by themselves, only occasionally needing to step in and offer a bit of guidance. He had always been a bit of a... Hands-off parent, for better or for worse, but he was fairly certain that he had finally found the rhythm of things over the past several years. Not that that made him a perfect parent by any means, there had certainly been plenty of occasions--

"APRIIIIILLLLLL O'NEIL!!!" The battle cry and hearty thud of his poor front door put a sudden end to his narration, and, though it happened near every day, he startled in response, just barely avoiding dropping his tea.

"April!" He bellowed from his chair, turning just enough to peer into the kitchen, where his honorary fifth child (as if he needed any more…) and next-door neighbor had just appeared. "How many times must I tell you?! If you break my door, I will--!"

"Aw, c'mon, Yosh, you know I gotta make a bold entrance at the start of the morning, or my mojo is gonna be off for the whole rest of the day! Besides, I haven't broken the door yet, and it's been how many years?"

“Bah! Haven't broken my door yet, maybe, but what about my bed frame? Or my printer? Or my third-favorite koi fish figurine?!"

"Oh, you wanna play that game now?" O'Neil countered, narrowing his eyes behind scarlet frames, crossing her arms across her chest and cocking one hip to the side. "Okay, then, how about my window? Or my mom's antique vase? Or my literal entire bathroom--"

"Okay! Okay, enough!" Yoshi spluttered with a dismissive wave of his hands. Dammit. The fact he was technically responsible for his sons’ occasional partaking in light property destruction was still, in his opinion, the most unfair and annoying part of parenting. "Fine! Break down the door for all I care! Burn the entire place to the ground! See if I do anything about it! Teenagers..." He muttered with a scowl, shaking his head and returning to his program, an exaggerated scowl on his face. The kids, to their credit, knew well enough by now not to take his rants and mumblings too seriously and quickly re-engaged themselves in whatever gossip and chatter they had previously been wrapped up in.

Yoshi smiled just the tiniest bit, listening with one ear as Donatello explained to a devastated Leonardo that it was, in fact, Thursday, bringing up evidence on his cell phone, and Raphael and April pulled Mikey's dance bag out from inside the oven, where he had forgotten it for the third time this past month.

This was not where he had imagined his life would take him when he was young. Not even close.

He would not trade these moments for anything at all.

By the time his television show was ending, he was just finishing off his tea and shoveling the rest of his bagel into his mouth. Game shows, he had found years ago, were an excellent means of timing routines, and he had it to a science by now. He pulled himself to his feet, stretching and cracking his back loud enough that his children yelled at him from the kitchen, before shuffling his way into the kitchen to begin the work of chasing the teenagers out the door.

"Alright, come on, shoo shoo! You are all going to miss the subway and be late!" He scolded, occasionally swatting at a stray child with his sleeves. "And do not forget anything, because I will not bring it to you!"

"Dad--" Leo began, his eyes blown up huge and pleading. "I don't feel well, I'm pretty sure I've got, like, a tummy bug, or something? Sooo, I should, like, probably stay home--"

"You are not skipping school just because you forgot to do an assignment." Yoshi immediately responded.

"What?! Noooo, Daddy, please, I'm really sick!"

"I was not born yesterday." He scoffed, shooting his son an unimpressed look. "And I have seen you do assignments in far less time! Besides, I'm sure April and your brothers would be happy to help."

A chorus of groans rang from around the table.

“Enough bellyaching! Come on, out of my house! Let's go, chop chop! Anyone who stays home today will be giving me a pedicure!”

That threat always worked. On cue, everyone fell into action. The boys gulped down any remaining breakfast still left uneaten, (whether it was theirs or not,) in between conversations, TikTok videos, and, in Leo's case, loud mourning about the day of the week. Donatello began to long process of buckling up the seventeen different straps on his chunky boots, Michaelangelo passed out lunches to each of his family members, narrating his culinary decisions as he went, and Raphael hurriedly tossed bowls, spoons, and plates into the dishwasher with clatters and clunks.

"I can't find my eyeliner pen-- Nardo, did you steal it? Did you go through my bag?! You DID, didn’t you!!! I am going to delete all of your Minecraft save files--"

"What?! I cannot believe you would make such an accusation, I would never stop to such petty thievery--"

"Mikey, hurry up and grab your skateboard if you're gonna--"

"OW, Dad, Donnie pulled my hair!"

"Oh, what are you, five?"

"HEY, both of you knock it off because Raph makes ya!”

"Wait, did we have a quiz in geometry today--? Because I did not study!!! Raph, this note had better be a joke--!"

After a few final moments of mayhem, Yoshi finally managed to get all five high schoolers out the door, closing the door firmly behind them with a loud sigh.

He loved his children. Truly, he did. But thank god for school.

Grumbling a bit to himself, he got to work straightening the remaining mess left behind. His sons were more than old enough to clean up after themselves and help out around the house, but that still didn't necessarily mean they did it particularly well. Maybe by their late twenties, they'd start to figure that out, if they were anything like their father. He swept up spare crumbs and wiped down the table, putting cereal boxes away in the pantry where they belonged and closing cabinet doors left open.

Boys.

Truthfully, he had very little room to complain and he knew it. Compared to the first four years of parenthood, things were a breeze. Sure, there was still plenty of work to do, but aside from the occasional exhausting day or difficult conversation, he could practically just put things on autopilot by now. He could hardly imagine how his younger self used to get through each day.

Well, perhaps he could, because, if he was being completely honest, he didn't really "get through" most days back then as much as he was bodily dragged in and out of them. But he had realized long ago that lingering on his past shortcomings was not in anyone's best interest.

With school, extracurriculars, friends and neighbors, babysitters, and a shit-ton of parenting classes on his side now, in addition to the general concept of the passage of time, given that his children were no longer children and now teenagers, he had at his disposal something that he had not had even a scrap of for years before "the move."

Free time.

It had been nearly ten years since "the move." Ten years since he and his sons had donned these disguises and bodily forced their way back into society on the back of lies and forged paperwork. Or, well, he had forced his way back into society. His children were just along for the ride-- and new to it all.

Not that you would be able to tell now, he thought to himself, smiling ever so slightly. Ten years… They had lived this way for a long time now.

It had been so long… Some days, he nearly forgot that he was anything but a man.

--------

"Donnie, here, it's your turn."

Donatello sighed loudly, pausing in whatever he was doing on his phone, (Scrolling through Twitter? Purchasing uranium off the dark web? They were equally likely,) but accepting the laptop shoved into his hands anyway.

"Why am I getting the impression that my turns are longer than everyone else's?" He questioned, his brows pinched with gentle annoyance as he glanced at the other four, all piled together on the subway. There wasn’t enough space for all of them, but even finding a couple of open seats was a near miracle this time of day, so they could make do. Stacking Mikey on Raph's shoulders and denying Leo a place to sit, seeing how it was his American Literature essay that they were taking turns writing, did the trick.

"Because you're the smart one," Leo said, his arms wrapped around the nearest subway pole, leaning so he could read over their shoulder. "This is the consequence of referring to yourself as a 'genius' all the time."

"I'm pretty sure I've always made it very clear that I'm a man of science, not literature." Donnie quipped in reply, even as he hunched over the screen, his fingers tick-tacking across the keys.

"Hey, I'm helping too! That whole third paragraph is mostly me." April protested, crossing her arms and slumping against Donnie, purposefully jostling them a bit in retaliation.

"Me too!" Mikey chirped from atop his brother's shoulders, slumped forward to avoid smacking his head on the roof. "I changed all the punctuation to fourteen-point font to make it longer!”

"Smart." Donnie hummed, not looking up, in such a tone that it wasn't quite clear if he meant it or not. Mikey beamed at the praise nonetheless, a bright grin lighting up his face as he crossed his arms over his brother's forehead.

"Look, it doesn't have to be good. It's just gotta be three pages before third period." Leo said. "I mean, Donnie could also always just hack into the school's gr—“

"Hey!" Raph barked. "We all agreed that that was for emergencies only!"

"Okay, okay, fine!" Leo sighed, a bit of sulkiness saturating his voice, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He reluctantly accepted the laptop when it was passed back over to him, propping up a knee to balance it on and hunching over to type.

"I thought Mikey set up that whole system with you. With the reminders and that agenda app and everything?" April questioned, glancing up at Leo curiously-- perhaps suspiciously.

"He did. I've just been..." He paused, hesitating in his words for just a second. "Busy."

"Oh no." April groaned.

"Not again." Donnie sighed.

"Who is it this time?" Raph asked, quirking a brow.

"What! I have noooo idea what you guys are talking about--"

"Leo."

"Okay, fine. Chase DeFerro." Leo muttered, his eyes immediately flicking to the side to avoid the inevitable reactions of his family.

"Chase DeFerro?"

"The same Chase DeFerro from five months ago?"

"Didn't you two have, like, a horrible break-up?"

"Didn't you block him on, like… Everything?"

"Didn't you say, and I quote, "If I ever have to even see that nasty bitch again in my entire life, it'll be too soon, and I swear to god I'll chop off--"

"Okay, okay! Hey, come on! That was five months ago. Things are, like, totalllyyyy different now!" Leo insisted.

“You said that about the last, like, three guys you’ve dated,” April said, unimpressed.

"Leo, have you ever stopped to consider that, perhaps, your need to constantly be in some kind of a relationship may have some kind of deeper connection to your own feelings of self-worth and the way that you assign value to--"

"Whoa there, Doctor Feelings! Chill! It's not that deep!" Leo scoffed, shooting Mikey an annoyed look. Ugh, he knew he shouldn't have brought it up. "Seriously. I'm just bored, okay? Quit trying to read into it."

"Bored?" Raph echoed, looking at the other with big eyes. "Leo, you can't treat love like it's a game like that! Come on!"

"It's not love, Raph, it's high school dating." Leo scoffed, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anyway! Look, I'm only, like, fifty words short and then I'm home free. Who's got the next turn?"

"Fine." April sighed, rolling her eyes. “Only because your girl here writes a killer BS essay conclusion. But you owe me. Hand it over."

True to her word, the last-minute literature assignment was wrapped up shortly, and the remainder of the train ride was instead occupied by chatter and gossip, discussing upcoming tests and assignments in school, rumors circulating the hallways, and plans for weekends and far-off holidays. On the occasion it got too loud to hear each other properly, they’d sign to each other instead, and then switch back once it quieted down once more. The five scrambled their way off the subway when they arrived at their stop, making their way up the stairs and back to street level.

Leo inhaled deeply as he hopped up the final few stairs, his sneakers giving a satisfying thud on the concrete below them with each step. He had no complaints about the subway, (well, no more than the average person, anyway,) but there was always just something especially refreshing about getting to breathe fresh air after spending any amount of time underground. Even if the fresh air was New York City air. Call him crazy, but he'd never get tired of it.

The group began the final length of their journey, closing the three-block gap between the subway station and their high school-- most of them on foot, Mikey on his skateboard, though he was less skateboarding and more standing on his skateboard and hanging onto the back of Raph's shirt so his older brother would drag him along. Leo wondered absently if he could get away with that, too, before April's voice finally snapped him back into reality.

"You busy after school today?"

"Until six!" He replied, stretching his arms back to lace his fingers behind his head as they walked. "Dee and I have gymnastics."

“Next competition is tomorrow.” Donnie hummed, not looking up from his phone. "So we're getting in the extra hours."

"You know we've got a rep to uphold!" Leo sing-songed, his mouth stretching into a wide, smug grin. "Gotta keep that flawless record for the rest of the season."

It was very well known, to anyone who ran in such circles, that the Hamato Twins were all but sure to take the top two places in any gymnastics meet that they showed up to-- it was just a question of in what order they would do so. Of all the various sports that they participated in, gymnastics was just about the only one where it was truly a coin flip. The only other two extracurriculars they shared were swimming, where Donnie consistently took first place, and martial arts, where they both knew Leo was more likely to come out on top. But gymnastics? It was anybody's guess, and they flip-flopped from first to second just about every other event. For just a moment, Leo caught his twin's eye-- coz he knew he was thinking the exact same thing right now.

Coz he knew they both wanted to win.

Coz they both wanted to rub it in the other's face.

(Of course, they both also knew that the only reason they got to have this little song-and-dance to begin with was because Mikey was still in the age bracket below them. Wouldn't everyone be just so delighted to finally see the Hamato Twins usurped in the coming season... By another Hamato.)

“And Raph has work… Ugh! Y’all are too damn busy!” April huffed, leaning her head back and wrinkling up her nose.

“I’ve got a little bit of time.” Mikey chimed in, leaning over just enough to offer April a grin. “I don’t gotta be at dance until four. I was gonna go work on that mural I’ve got going up north. Wanna come?”

“Beats sitting at home doing homework.” April reasoned, giving a shrug. “I’m in!”

“Shweet!”

Leo smiled a tiny bit. Though he did, in fact, have complete confidence in his little brother’s ability to traverse the city safely, it was still kind of nice to know he’d be with someone else. If, for no other reason, then to know that Raph would now worry about Mikey at least 80% less during the coming evening.

“Alright,” Speaking of worrisome older brothers, Raph began his typical pre-school speech as they approached the front entrance. “No one be late. No one skip class.” Who, him? What was that pointed look for? He would never… Get caught more than once in a week. “And no one get in any trouble. Don’t do anything Raph wouldn’t do.”

“Yes sir!” The four of them barked in reply as they approached the entrance of their high school. Mostly, they were all just making fun of him. But Leo figured humoring him wouldn’t hurt, especially if it helped him chill a little bit. Raph had always taken his role as “the biggest brother” pretty seriously, ever since they were really little, though Leo wasn’t exactly sure why. He was always the one in charge whenever their dad wasn’t around, and Leo suspected he had a hard time ever completely dropping that mindset.

I mean, don’t get him wrong, Raph was just as capable of fucking around, goofing off, and getting into shit as the rest of them, for sure, he just sometimes wished he could… Relax a little. It wasn’t like anything bad was gonna happen, but Raph always kind of just had this air to him like he was expecting enemies to leap out from behind the corner and attack them at any moment. Like he always had to protect them all. Which Leo could get, sure, but, like… Wouldn’t it be kind of cool if someone did try to start some shit with them or something, just so that they could see the look on their face when they totally kicked their ass? Leo could only imagine it’d be pretty hilarious.

The five of them went their separate ways, parting with various promises to see each other at lunch, after school, at home, etc. April and Raph went one way, Mikey went another, and Leo and Donnie split off in a different direction still, heading towards the East Wing.

And as they cleared the corner, Leo whipped around to face Donnie, stabbing them in the side with a spare elbow. “Last one to homeroom gets second place at gymnastics tomorrow!” He declared, immediately taking off down the hall.

“Wha— Leo! This is unfair, I’m wearing platforms! You know I’m wearing platforms!” Donnie shrieked in protest, even as he broke into a run behind him.

Leo whooped in reply, throwing himself over the railing of the nearest staircase, knowing his twin brother was right on his tail.

-----

“Come on! Harder!!! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!” Raphael roared, pumping a fist in the air. “LET’S GO! GIVE IT TO ME!”

The gaggle of six-year-olds in the water in front of him, all clinging to the pool wall, giggled loudly in response to his over-the-top encouragement, kicking their legs even harder in a flurry of limbs and dousing him in chlorinated water.

“Whoa, whoa, okay! You gave it to me! I surrender!” Raph chuckled, holding his hands up to shield himself. “Alright, alright. Good job, team! You did great today. Okay, let’s wrap up—“

“Raph! RAPH!”

“What?”

“Raph, we gotta do the ferry!” Penelope, the loudest of his students, insisted, her face all screwed up with determination. The other four children nodded along fervently. “We can’t get out until we do ferry!”

“Oh, RIGHT. Ferry. Sorry, Raph almost forgot!” He chuckled, thunking his own forehead with the butt of his palm, feigning forgetfulness, as if he hadn’t always intended to do their usual wrap-up game. Class ended with a game of “Ferry” every time, without fail, especially given that he touted it as the ‘reward’ that they had to work for each week by following directions and working hard. He shifted slightly in the water, turning his back on the kids still clinging to the wall. “Okay— hop aboard”

The five elementary schoolers squealed in delight, launching themselves off the pool wall to clamber over the teenager instead, climbing over his broad shoulders and hanging off of his arms. Raph gave a soft little ‘oof,’ at the impact, though it was mostly for show, snorting softly in amusement as Penelope all but climbed on top of his head. Reminded him of Mikey.

“Okay— GO!” She shouted once she was sure all her cohorts were fully boarded, the whole group buzzing with excitement despite the fact that they did this every week. Raph gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, slowly setting off on their lap around the pool. In the shallower end, where they started, he didn’t even really have to swim at all— He could just walk with his body lowered enough in the water to give the illusion of swimming. Or, more precisely, the illusion of ‘ferrying.’

“Welcome everybody to Penelope’s Ferry Ride. I’m Penelope, the tour girl. Over there’s the Empire State Building.” Penelope narrated happily from her perch, gesturing to the bleachers. “And over there is the Statue of Liberty.” The pool noodles. “And over there’s the Milky Way. And that’s the, uhhh, the Big Bridge…”

“Wait, how long’s this ferry ride? Raph didn’t sign up for no world tour!” Raph protested teasingly, to which Penelope sharply shushed him before continuing her narration. The other children bubbled with laughter at her increasingly ridiculous tourist attractions and descriptions. Reminded him of Leo and Donnie.

Raph chuckled softly to himself as he moved into the deeper end of the pool, transitioning into an easy breaststroke to keep them all afloat on their way. It was, admittedly, a bit more difficult to swim with five kids on his back than it was on his own, but Raph was a strong swimmer. This was no problem. Besides, it’s not like he was in a rush or anything.

Honestly? This was his favorite part of these lessons. No worrying about everyone paying attention or being involved. No worries about anyone wandering off when he had them all on top of him and undoubtedly accounted for. No stressing about remembering the lesson plan or rules… He could just swim. He knew it sounded dumb, but sometimes, with all the kids piled on top of him like this, he felt like some sort of big plodding swamp creature, floating lazily down the river with the world on his back.

He took his time about it, but he eventually made his full lap around the pool, coming to a stop by the stairs and gently chasing the kids off of his shoulders.

“Alright, come on, squirts. Ferry ride’s over.”

“Nooo!” Penelope whined, clinging to his head. “One more lap! PLEASEEE!”

“Hey, come on, you know the rules! If you don’t listen to Raph, you don’t get a ferry ride next week!” He warned, slowly peeling her off of his back. “Go on. Get outta here.” He insisted, though fondly, smiling a bit as she huffed and scowled… But she got out anyway, joining the rest of the kids running to their parents, all with towels in waiting arms, listening to the children excitedly chatter about what they learned today.

Raph smiled just the tiniest bit. He remembered when they had been that small, taking swim classes here. He, Donnie, and Leo had all been thrilled to take to the water, adoring each and every lesson.

They all loved it— Except Mikey. He recalled listening to his littlest brother scream bloody murder as their father attempted to coax him into the water, trying everything from reason to bribes to threats of consequences.

“You don’t need to like to swim, Michelangelo. But you need to be able to.” He remembered his father saying. “I need to be sure you will be safe if you ever end up in the water by yourself.”

If anyone asked, he’d tell ‘em that he took the job just to make some extra pocket money. But, at least a little bit, that was kinda why. He liked the idea of helping to keep people safe. Even if it was just teaching kids how to doggy paddle.

Doing all the small talk at the end of the lessons with the parents was definitely his least favorite part, however, and he always found himself kind of stammering and stuttering his way through it. After some short, “Oh, yeah, she’s doin’ great!” and “For sure, perfect behavior’s!” tossed at some parents, he was, thankfully, able to duck away into the office, his own towel flung over his shoulders to try to avoid tracking water everywhere.

“All done?” The office receptionist, Jessica, chirped in her usual friendly demeanor, glancing over at the other as he entered.

“Just about. I just gotta clean up as soon as the kids are all gone and we’ll be done.” He replied, ruffling his hair dry.

“Did you remind the parents that we’re closed next week?”

Raph froze.

“… Uhhhh…”

Jessica sighed a bit, glancing over her shoulder to give him a look. “I reminded you before the lesson started!”

“I know! I just— Raph forgot, okay? I can only hold so much stuff in my brain at one time before stuff just starts to fall out! I was thinkin’ about swimming stuff!” He defended. “‘Sides, it was your job to remind me to remind them! So obviously we both dropped the ball.” Jessica didn’t look quite convinced, but Raph was pretty sure his logic was solid. “Can’t we just, like, put up some flyers and send out an email and all that junk?”

Rolling her eyes, Jessica turned back to her computer and began to type. “Yeah, yeah… Can’t really do flyers, but I’m working on that email.”

“Why not? Just put a sign up on the door.”

Jessica looked over at him again, raising a brow. “You haven’t heard about the paper shortage?”

Raph blinked slowly.

“… The what.”

“Yeah! It’s a whole thing. I dunno, I guess there are, like… Paper thieves or whatever robbing all the paper stores and stuff in the city? We haven’t been able to get any new orders in for a few weeks now.” She explained.

“Paper thieves?” He echoed, incredulous. “And they... steal paper.”

“Yeah. They steal paper.”

“Who the heck steals paper?”

“I dunno! I just saw it on the news.” Jessica shrugged. “I guess the police are working on it or whatever.”

“I guess.” Raph said, shrugging a bit, though he still couldn’t help but find the whole thing a bit amusing. I mean, come on. Paper thieves? It was only paper. -------

"Dadddd!" Mikey called as he swung his way into the door, kicking his shoes off into the general direction of the pile where shoes were typically kept, tossing his duffle bag to the side. He'd come back for it later and put it away, he swears. "I'M HOMMMEEE!"

It had been a long day, in between school, painting, and dance practice, so it was almost nine by the time he got home, but he didn't really mind. He liked being busy! If he didn't have stuff to do, it was just, like, all the energy would build up and up and up in all his limbs and his body and his chest like something sticky and hot about to boil over, condensation gathering at the top of his skull, and then he just went kinda crazy. That makes sense, right? He was pretty sure his brothers were kinda like that, too, so he figured it was probably mostly normal. He sometimes wondered if that was why their dad let them sign up for so many after-school activities. The only downside was the limited time leftover to tackle homework and personal projects. Walls weren’t just gonna paint themselves, after all!

"What's for dinner?" He shouted across the house, shucking his backup off and beginning to unpack, collecting his various textbooks and notepads.

"Oh, since you were not home, Michelangelo, I have had no choice but to cook for our family--"

"Dad."

"But do not worry, my son, I am making the most delicious meal--"

"Dad."

"Boiled liver and onions! You boys' favorite! With chopped earthworms, yum yum yum!"

"DAD! You're not funny!" Mikey yelled, even though there was laughter in his voice. Their dad did this bit every time, and he hated how it was always kinda funny.

"Pizza is on the table." His father called back, and Mikey let out an excited cheer.

"YEAH BABY! That's what I was hoping you'd say!" He shouted, hopping up to his feet and beelining it to the kitchen. His brothers had clearly already done a round, based on the empty boxes and missing slices, but he knew they wouldn't dare leave him without his fair share. That's youngest child privilege. They knew damn well that he’d cry at them.

"How was school today, my son?" Dad always asked about school first and everything else second, every time.

"Id'was gooh'." Mikey mumbled, in between the pizza slice already hanging out of his mouth, piling several more slices onto his plate. "We're readin' th' O'ssey--"

"Orange, I cannot understand anything you are saying."

Mikey spit the half-chewed pizza slice back out onto the plate, which earned a really fun look from Dad, and he grinned.

"Sorry! We're reading the Odyssey in English class, which is fine, I guess, but it's kinda a lot to get through, so we're translating it to, like, real human words, annnndddd we gotta do a group project presentation thing, and I like all the people in the group project but you KNOOWWW how group projects are." He reported, rapid-fire, giving a dramatic sigh. "Oh! And I got my Algebra test back and I got! A seventy-nine!"

"Oh! Very good, Mikey. I am glad your studying paid off." His father replied with a small smile, and Mikey beamed. "And how was dance?"

"Awesome! I killed it, as per use'." Mikey said proudly, puffing out his chest a bit. "Miss Vega said that I just gotta tighten up my turns and I'll be all ready to destroy the competition next weekend!"

"Excellent. Good job, Orange." His dad said with a chuckle, patting Mikey's shoulder before making his way back into the living room, no doubt to reunite his butt with his beloved reclining chair and put on some TV series that no one else in the family appreciated. Mikey grabbed three more slices of pizza while his dad’s back was turned, and then scampered off, heading deeper into the apartment.

Considering they lived in New York City, they lived in a pretty spacious abode. Mikey couldn't remember a time in his life when there wasn't lots of room to stretch out and run and jump around. He remembered, back when he was really little, some of the hallways being big and long enough to even echo-- though he sometimes wondered if that had just been his imagination. Some of the stuff they would make up back then was pretty wild. Their dad had bought this big old brownstone apartment way back when they moved into Brooklyn, buying up the entire building so that they had all four floors, plus the basement, to themselves. Mikey recalled, vaguely, all the renovations that had gone into it when they first moved to New York, adjusting the fixer-upper into something where four very active children could be raised without feeling cramped. The building was tall and skinny, slotted neatly in with the rest of the city, and Mikey had always loved that. This meant it they had the perfect hallways for running back and forth through, and there was a surplus of staircases for him to slide down or jump over. The hardwood floors were perfect for both Tokyo Drifting and dance practice. They each had gotten their own rooms as they grew as well, with himself and Raph on the second floor, Leo and Donnie on the third, and their father taking the master bedroom on the ground level.

But the best bit was the basement. Lovingly dubbed "The Lair," their dad had designated it the hub for childhood shenanigans, (and now, teenage activity,) from the get-go, all but sacrificing the space to his sons from the moment they moved in. The house was technically his, sure, but the basement was theirs, like, for real for real. Arcade games and consoles lived down here, hooked up to the big TV on the wall and surrounded by beat-up beanbags. Raph's weight-lifting equipment was in that corner there, and Donnie's bigger, more mechanical projects were over there by the stairs, (with the yellow tape and the "do not touch" signs.") This big wide open space here with the mirrors on the walls and the punching bags mounted on the ceiling was perfect for both martial arts, acrobatics, and dance practice, depending on which kind of matting they laid out. And, best of all, the Lair was the one place in the house where their dad had reluctantly conceded that, yes, Mikey. You may paint on the walls.

The Lair was typically the best bet for finding any of his brothers, especially if they weren’t holed up in their rooms, and Mikey did think about heading down there, too… But, as very tempting as it was to hang out with brothers first and do math worksheets later was, he was pretty sure he could get through his homework in, like, thirty minutes, tops, and just get it all out of the way. Plus, this way, he didn't have to worry about anyone else making any grabs for his dinner.

With this in mind, he tromped his way up the stairs, nudging his sticker-adorned door open and dumping all his stuff on his desk, immediately shoving the previously-abandoned pizza slice back into his mouth again. He flipped open his textbooks, switched his speakers on to fill the space with some chill lofi beats to study to, and nudged his desk lamp awake as he settled in to get to work.

His workload had been pretty light recently, with way fewer teachers than usual handing out paper worksheets and questionnaires to bring home, so it didn't take him very long to get through all the assignments and readings. (Also, lowkey, it was times like these that he was, like, wow. Thank god for Adderall.) He was nearly done with the last of his work when he suddenly paused.

Dang. Artistic inspiration was truly a cruel but wondrous mistress. Okay, homework later. He scrambled for his phone, rewinding the song playing over the speakers. Ooh, yeah, okay-- That bass? Oh, hell yeah, this was really good! He could absolutely see the movement in his mind's eye-- he could picture the way the color swooped along with the beat and brightened along with the melody. Oh-- and what if he added some black outlines? What was the title of this song again...? Maybe he should look up the artist. He wondered if this would be better as a direct homage to the artist, (maybe the title up on a wall, in big curved block letters, yellows popping along the edges to pull it into the foreground, and that red in the center to sink it in--) or if this should be a more narrative piece. It made him think of that one movie that they watched two weekends ago-- with the spy and the watering can factory?! And this one line, about the lightning, he could just see the way he could paint a figure to answer that directly. Was it too ambitious to do a zig-zag line of action? Oh, but if he had the leg out like that...

He flipped the page of his notebook, his pencil skritching feverishly on the sheet as he moved to put these thumbnails into reality while they were still ticking through his mind in a slideshow. He paused only to command Spotify to play the song on repeat, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes narrowed. Ohmigosh, yes! This would be perfect. He couldn't believe he had never thought of this before. This song had been on his playlist for how long? He had just kind of been spacing out until now, but suddenly, he was so excited about this project.

And it would be the perfect excuse to use those metallic spray paints he's been hoarding! He practically vibrated with excitement, thumbing the paper with a grin. Oh, that would look amazing. Just a bold streak of shimmery color, bursting out from the composition, like an explosion, he could see it so clearly--

Half a thought later, the spiral-bound notebook in front of him burst into flames.

[ next ]

[luventi]

RANDOM GENSHIN ROOMMATE HCS

direct yourself to my original post! reblogs are super appreciated :)

+ cw: suggestive, lots of fluff, gn reader.

+ ft: kaeya, zhongli, diluc, childe, albedo, xiao, venti

KAEYA

begs for you to have a self care night with him, he’ll stand outside your door with a basket of face masks, serums, and those really cute animal headbands he bought on amazon.

asks for you to scratch his tummy or scalp while his hands are occupied and by occupied i mean he’s playing games on his phone.

you never speak about that one time you both made out on your front door step and almost gave the granny across the hall a heart attack.

tucks you into bed if he comes home to find you asleep on the couch. you don’t tell him this but you pretend to be asleep sometimes so you can be close to him when he carries you.

ZHONGLI

he wears a really cute bandanna when he’s cleaning around the apartment and you once sneaked up on him to take a picture. the picture is now your laptop background.

it’s a reflex of his to sit you on his lap when you walk by him.

gets upset if you leave the house without telling him or texting him goodbye. he calls you like 40 times to make sure you’re okay.

during quarantine he had a knitting phase and you now have 20 pairs of cotton socks. you wear them for good luck sometimes!

DILUC

secretly loves to cuddle with you. also loves when he’s the small spoon, makes him feel safe and loved. but of course he won’t admit it.

+ diluc hates lying to you but he has to do this in order to convince you that it really was too hot in his room so can he please sleep over in yours? he promises he won’t kick you off the bed like last time!

has once accidentally sent you a semi explicit picture but only because he was trying to see if that was a mole or a pimple on his back.

he leaves you little notes. “went to work early, made some breakfast for you” “please open the windows once you wake up, you need the sunlight” “don’t forget your keys like last time”

CHILDE

asks you to adopt a dog with him. you tell him you would if you weren’t also busy taking care of him, so you settle for a betta fish!

you once let childe do the laundry and all your shirts became crop tops, but he reassures you that you look hot. you reassure him that you’ll bring flowers to his grave once you kill him.

the first time childe kissed you was when you were watching a movie together, it was a spur of the moment thing and when he pulled away you whispered to him. “you taste like raw onions.” he instantly got up to brush his teeth.

he once kept loudly whining about how he wanted to get laid. “wow i need sex, i need sex so bad, i wish someone would just sex me right now!!” you walked out of your room to speak to him and he perked up at your presence, but all you said was “shut up” and walked away.

ALBEDO

has stopped using his own bed to sleep. you’re starting to come home to him asleep in your bed. he claims it’s “more comfortable”. you think he’s a liar trying to nab some cuddles.

if he’s running late to the lab he asks if you can braid his hair back while he’s eating breakfast or brushing his teeth. he appreciates you so much he’ll give you a tight hug before he leaves, which is very out of character for him.

he saves all your voicemails because he loves the sound of your voice. even if it’s you complaining to him about how there’s no milk in the house, he just loves it so much.

you’ve never seen albedo without a shirt before, except this one morning. you were so mesmerized you poke his nipple and he was confused so he just poked yours back.

XIAO

falls asleep on the couch waiting for you to get home, he can’t feel at ease knowing you’re not safely in bed yet.

complains about your cooking but you can always find him up late finishing everything you made. if you ask him about it the next morning he shrugs and says, “dunno maybe we have rats.”

you two secretly listen in on each other while the other is doing ahem, private activities.

you’re lowkey his only friend so you invite him everywhere you go, all your other friends are confused about the growling angry man. you’re just like *pats head* “this is xiao!”

VENTI

if you’re not home and it’s raining, he sends you a picture of the rain drops sliding down the window and says “thinking about you <3 ” you reply back “stop thinking about me stinky <3”.

he kisses the back of your hand when saying goodbye. and if you get shy? he’s super smug about it.

if you don’t know how to cook then all hope is lost because venti sure as hell doesn’t know. he has on numerous occasions set your kitchen on fire while you were out.

does venti care about the upcoming water bill? no. does he care about keeping his wine cabinet neat and fully stocked? yes he does. this of course earns him a rightful smack on the head by you.