#ah yes i am the wise one uh huh

[freedomfireflies]

iFall For Harry

Part Two to this request!

Summary: Turns out, the stranger in your phone is kind of funny...

...and kind of sexy, too.

Oh, my god. 

Harry, did you hear the news?

It takes exactly three and a half minutes for those familiar little bubbles to pop up.

Well hello to you, too. 

No, what happened?

You struggle to contain a rather giddy grin as you begin to type, A cheese factory exploded in France!

Wait, really? Shit, what happened?

I don’t know. But all that was left was…de brie.

Exactly sixty seconds pass before he begins to type.

Fuck.

I think I just snorted. 

That was…goddammit that was good.

You don’t even know what he looks like, but you chuckle at the idea of him laughing so hard he can’t help but snort.

Thank you, thank you. 

Took me two weeks to come up with that.

I’m impressed. 

Little offended, too.

Oh? Your heart sinks.

Yeah. 

Kept me on the edge of my seat for two fucking weeks wondering if I’d hear from you again.

Shit. 

You smirk to yourself as you flop down onto your sofa and think through a response.

Hey, it takes two to tango, pal. You could have texted me, too.

The bubbles make your heart pound.

Alright, that’s fair. 

In my defense, I didn’t have any more cheese puns.

Oh, is that all this is, then? 

You just use me for dad jokes?

Psh, nooooooo…

Then, another text.

Although, the jokes do make my days…cheddar.

 You laugh a little louder, suddenly very aware of the flush in your face over some stranger in your phone. 

No, wait. How do I erase a text?

I hated that. 

Seriously, how do I make it go away? 

My failure is staring me in the face, and I hate it.

You giggle under your breath.

Easy, Grandpa. 

Relax, just press down until the options pop up.

The conversation goes quiet for a brief moment before you watch his previous text vanish from the screen with a dramatic, poof!

Then, he begins typing again.

Hold on… 

Did you just call me Grandpa?

…psh, noooooooo

Oh, so that’s how it is?

That’s how it is.

Wow, and we had such a nice thing going, too.

To be fair, you never told me your age, and you don’t even know how to delete a text. 

What am I supposed to think?

First of all: rude. 

Respect your elders.

Second of all: this deleting shit is NEW, okay, and I just updated my phone, like…a week ago, so I never learned. 

Uh-huh. 

No, yeah, whatever you say, Grandps.

He responds with the emoji that’s rolling its eyes.

You smirk.

For your information, I’m 29.

Okay, which is a cool, hip, fun, and very fresh age.

Yes, I believe that’s the slogan for the retirement home, too. 

“We’re cool, we’re slick, and we might break a hip.”

There’s a longer pause between your text and his response. You hope it’s because he’s laughing. It’s not your best work, but you think it’s funny.

And then, you get the notification.

Dammit, that place sounds so much cooler than the retirement home I’m in now. 

Send me the address? I’ll wheel myself over.

You got it, Old Man. Will you need any help crossing the street?

How thoughtful of you. Yeah, that’d be great, and then you can finally earn your Girl Scout badge.

Oh, my God. How did you know it was the last one I needed?

Cause I’m old. And therefore wise.

Oh, right, right. No, that checks out.

Yeah. 

You lean back, forcing your eyes away from your phone to finally get a moment of reprieve from the excessive smiling. Why is this so fun?

I guess 29 isn’t so bad. Just…three years older than me.

Ah, another piece to the Cheese Girl puzzle. 

You’re 26.

Indeed.

26 was fun. 

I liked 26.

Yeah, it’s not too bad so far.

Just wait until your bones start to creak whenever you get out of bed.

I’ll keep a can of oil on my nightstand.

You grimace to yourself. Your worst joke to date, and you just hope you haven’t blown it.

Probably smart. 

My preferred method is lube, but…

Whatever works.

Your eyes widen.

Oh?

Yeah.

 My bones might creak but at least I can still fuck.

Well…shit.

You readjust your position on the sofa, desperately working to find a cool and relaxed and equally mysterious reply.

…so, no pressure.

Just be careful with all that lube. 

Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall.

Hope you’ve got Life Alert on speed dial.

Oh, I absolutely do. They love me over there.

You smirk to yourself, fighting yet another laugh. 

Yeah? Thank God.

Boy, I bet you’re a real stud with the ladies, huh?

Damn fucking right. 

This grandpa has moves.

I bet. Yeah, women love a man that squeaks when he thrusts.

They do, actually. I happen to squeak quite sensually.

Is that right?

It is.

Damn.

Might need to hear that for myself someday.

It was bold. Perhaps a little daring, and you don’t give yourself a chance to overthink it before turning your phone off and tossing it onto the other side of the sofa.

You give it five minutes before checking to see if he’s replied.

Thankfully, you have two notifications, delivered 3 minutes ago.

Yeah?

So what’s stopping you?

What is stopping you?

Probably a number of things, but instead of pointing out that he’s a complete stranger and could very well be a catfish (or even worse…that he might not even find you attractive) you decide to go with another joke.

All these Girl Scout cookies I gotta sell :/

Shit.

Yeah.

What if I bought a hundred boxes?

Then you’d have to hand deliver them to my door, right?

Your eyes roll playfully as you sigh.

That IS the Girl Scout policy, yes.

We pride ourselves on good service.

Fantastic, then I’ll take 100 boxes in the flavor of you.

Your lashes flutter as you reread the text, over, and over, and over. But before you can spiral…he’s sending another.

…shit, that was meant to be smooth.

Get it, cause…like, you know, get a taste of YOU. Like…if you were a cookie. 

Cause…I wanna taste you…

Explaining it makes it worse, doesn’t it?

 It should make it worse, but for some reason…he’s funny? And charming? And making your thighs squeeze together—

I think that can be arranged, yeah.

I’ll package them up nice and pretty, just for you.

Equally as cheesy, but apparently…cheese is where you both shine.

You hope he’s at least somewhat amused, and when he finally responds, your stomach flips.

This conversation is bad for my health.

Yeah?

Why’s that?

Because I’m in a meeting and I’m about to have a heart attack.

…why are you about to have a heart attack?

Oh, right. I forgot that happens at your old age.

Ha.

Funny.

Good thing you have Life Alert on speed dial.

Yeah, I don’t think Life Alert is gonna be able to help.

No? Why not?

Cause only one thing can save me now.

Cookies.

Your cookies.

To be exact.

See? Cheesy.

Wow, I was almost turned on and then…

Nope, there it goes.

Oh, is that what we’re doing? We’re trying to turn each other on?

Well, why didn’t you SAY so?

Hold on, I’ve got a few good ones.

Oh god.

Alright, here we go.

So…

What are you wearing?

…really? That’s all you’ve got?

Work with me please.

My gosh.

Clothes.

I have clothes on.

Yeah?

That’s a shame.

Two minutes go by without him adding anything else, and you can’t help but laugh when you realize that’s all he’s got.

Wowwwwww…

No, that was so good. I’m…holy shit, you just took my breath away. I’m so turned on right now.

I mean, my panties just FLEW across the room!

You’re THAT good!

Okay, very funny. 

I wasn’t done.

No, really. You gotta warn a girl before you just completely rock her world like that.

Honestly, I feel a little faint.

Where did you learn such a masterful technique? Really, you should teach a class on sexting, cause that was just…phew.

Listen, I was just trying to take it easy on you.

You know, ease you into my seduction before I gave it to you good and hard.

The last bit of his sentence has you stumbling over a gasp, but you simply clear your throat and work to find a response.

You have two options:

Either you tease him a bit more…

…or you ramp up the tension.

Well, by all means, Harry…

Give it to me good.

And hard.

He doesn’t respond for quite some time to this. And while you’d like to tell yourself that it’s because he’s just so turned on by your response…

…it’s more likely that you definitely fucked up and he wants nothing more to do with you.

But then…your phone dings.

Is that what you want then, hm?

Want it rough?

Shit, shit, shit.

Yeah.

If you think you can keep up.

Trust me, sweetheart, that won’t be a problem.

If you want it rough, I’m more than happy to oblige.

Is that why you texted me today?

Needed my help?

Truth be told, you don’t know why you texted him today, but you certainly aren’t upset with how things are going.

Me? Needing YOUR help?

Cute, but I think my fingers and I can manage just fine.

His response comes so fast, your head spins:

…fuck.

You smile.

Shit, okay now this conversation is REALLY bad for my health.

I might keel over right here in this meeting.

My death is on your hands, Cheese Girl.

Worth it.

You watch the bubbles float onto your screen for a good thirty seconds before they disappear.

Then, they appear again…just to dissipate before you can get your hopes up.

Finally—finally…a text.

Okay, listen, you don’t know me.

And I don’t know you.

I get that.

I’m a stranger, you’re a stranger.

But…

And hear me out…

What would you say to a phone call?

Your pulse stutters as you stare at his proposition, but he’s already sending his next text before you can decide if you’re really that stupid or not.

I know that’s asking a lot, but…

If you promise that you aren’t a 90-year-old man, and I promise I’m not some kid playing video games in his mom’s basement…

We could at least…have a real conversation.

And make sure that we really are who we say we are, you know?

And I could be assured that I didn’t just get a fucking boner in the middle of a busy boardroom cause of some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

You hesitate.

Despite yourself, you are intrigued by the idea.

Worst-case scenario if he is some loser…you can just hang up and block his number.

And if he’s not…and he’s half as hot as you’re starting to hope he is…

You swallow.

Thickly.

I am not some perverted, internet creep that makes cheese jokes.

I’m just a regular creep that makes cheese jokes.

Promise.

And…yeah. 

I would be okay with a phone call.

As long as you do in fact promise I won’t regret it and that it won’t result in nightmares that haunt me for the rest of my life.

Ah, well…

Can’t say much for the regret…

But I do promise that I will try very hard not to give you nightmares.

God, are you really doing this?

Are you really doing this?

Alright, then…

Oh, so you’re doing it. You’re really that dumb. You really just let a complete stranger convince you to call him, even though he could be a serial killer, or a psycho, or—

Your phone rings.

You see his name pop up in large print as the cellphone just about flies out of your hand.

Scrambling to keep it steady, you lurch forward and collect a deep breath.

You can do this.

You can do this.

You’ll give him thirty seconds. And if he seems creepy…you’ll hang up, and you’ll move on.

And you’ll never get random boys in bars numbers again.

You press your thumb into the button on your screen and slide it to the right.

Here goes nothing.

“…hello?”

~ iFall for Harry pt. 3 (the third part to this!)

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ More Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tag List:

@tinyhrry @supersanelyromantic @lomlhstyles

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles text #ifall for harry #harry and cheese girl

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 47 - Soul Jar

Decisions, decisions…and none of them good.

Trigger warning: suicidal ideation.

On AO3.

You don’t look at nobody as y’all set up camp that afternoon. Wyll is moving and speaking, but still weak. Shadowheart monitors him between starting a campfire. Karlach hovers around, unable to settle in any one spot too long, either looking at him all anxious, or you with big, sad eyes.

Astarion fucks right off without saying a word to nobody. Hopefully he’s out hunting something.

And Lae’zel…

Gale is brewing what turns out to be the very last batch of blood potion. After everybody got settled in, and the mummy man just fucking emerged from the shadows to loiter at the edge of camp—Gale went over and had a long discussion with him. Must be nice to be able to look into the hollow sinus cavity of the guy you’re speaking to without screaming and flinching away. In the end, Withers does confirm the evil bottle will in fact hold your soul, so he starts prepping for whatever the fuck that entails. He wants you to guzzle down another blood potion right before, but supplies are running low, and Astarion ain’t here, and Lae’zel flat out refuses to help.

“The useless istik will live or die on her own strength,” she says, loud enough y’all catch it. “I will waste my time no more.”

Gale looks to you, but there ain’t shit you can do about it, so you just shrug. She’s right to cut you loose. You fucked that up and ran like a bitch. So much for being some kinda leader.

“I believe between Withers, Shadowheart, and myself,” Gale says, “we can successfully summon your soul to this plane and bind it here. We, ah, don’t have many other options.”

Because you got maybe three more blood potions left and then off your soul goes.

“Okay,” you say.

Gale looks at you. Squints slightly. There’s something to him, the stiff way he’s holding himself, that sets alarm bells clanging.

“What?” you say.

“I…I thought we would have more time to prepare,” he says. “Both to gather supplies, and to, well, to let you ready yourself.”

He’s waffling. You already feel like shit scraped off the heel of somebody’s boot. You don’t mean to snap, but your control and your manners are frayed. “Yeah, and? It there a point here?”

And the man looks at you with such grim pity, you’re sure he’s gonna say it ain’t gonna work.

“I’ve been researching on my own,” he says. “My sources are rather limited, but I did study soulwork and astral travel with, ah, anyway. I have full confidence we can do this, as long as you’re up to it. But you do understand that it requires magic to perform?”

He waits for an answer. Seems important, though you cannot fathom why.

“Uh huh?”

“If what you say is correct about your plane, Ay-yarth doesn’t have much, if any, access to the Weave, strange as that sounds to my ear.”

He stares. You stare back.

And it clicks. Oh how it clicks.

“I can’t just pop the cork on that jar if I get home, can I?” you say.

“There isn’t much theory in that field. It could very well settle into you again, as it’s meant to. It may be an instinctive thing, once you’re back in your own realm.”

But.

“But it might fly off into space again,” you say. “Because, what, it’s all destabilized now?”

He nods.

You’re sitting criss-cross on the ground. The sun shines down warm and the breeze smells of leaves and green, growing things. The sky is blue, with happy clouds puffing along as Shadowheart helps Wyll sit up so he can take a drink of water, while Karlach sits about ten feet away, shredding grass with her talons.

“You’re telling me we gotta do this today,” you say.

“It…seems most prudent, yes.”

“And if we don’t, and I run outta potion, I die or whatever.”

He nods again.

“But if we do do this, and I, by some motherfucking miracle, find a way back home, I still gotta carry my soul around because it still might fly off into space.”

“I’m…not sure it would even be wise to travel across the planes once it’s been transferred.”

The forbidden carry-on. Well.

“I am sorry, Eleanor. Truly. I wish I bore you better news.”

You wave, all distracted. “Ain’t your fault. Y’all been going outta your way to help me this whole time, and I appreciate it. How long does this take to set up?”

He takes a breath, hands folded behind his back. “Not long. We would give you a sleep draught—of which I have a few—so for you, it can happen as soon as you lie down.”

Magical surgery. Neat-o.

You nod. Push yourself up and both your knees creak. You feel heavy and slow. No energy, everything in your body vaguely hurting.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” you say.

Gale’s head dips in a bow. “Of course. Take all the time you need. And whatever you decide, we’ll be here for you.”

He’s a good dude, even if he did eat your very first ring. You put a little effort into your smile as you brush past him to head down towards the river y’all set up next to.

***

You made yourself stop caring about some “afterlife” years ago. If God is a bitch who don’t deserve nothing, then heaven and hell and all that shit can go get fucked right alongside him. You don’t do woo-woo shit anymore.

But you always liked the idea of seeing Grandpa again. Of meeting your dad, maybe. Of seeing your ancestors and finding wherever they went once they left.

Somehow, you don’t think your soul is gonna make it across the space-time continuum between here and Earth to ever see that, if it’s even real.

You can die. Or you can stay here. Forever. Away from your friends, away from Uncle Randy and your aunties (they’re technically cousins, but eh) and all your little third and fourth cousins. You ain’t never gonna catch fireflies or sit on Uncle Randy’s porch, giving him shit for smoking. You ain’t never gonna see your apartment or listen to the rain with Christmas lights twinkling and a mug of cocoa in your hand.

Never catch up on any of your shows or movies. Never listen to a podcast ever again. Never hum along with a favorite song because you ain’t never gonna hear your people’s music again.

Never hear English.

Never learn more Cherokee.

You start sobbing at some point. You’re seated in a hollow among tree roots next to a stream. You can’t stay upright anymore.

You’ll never go to a cafe or a library. No more pizza. No blackberry mochas. Stir fry. Fry bread. Biscuits and chocolate gravy. Fucking ice cream. You will never find a funny meme or have to explain an internet video to your relatives.

Never text Sasha again. Never hear her voice. You’ll forget what she and all the others look like, what they sound like. You’ll forget all the people you love except for their names—

You can die. Or you can lose everything except your fading memories and your own skin. Stuck in a place where you can’t speak the language. Where you don’t understand the clothing. Can’t cook the food. Can’t even read a book or tell a joke because the strangers around you won’t understand why a boat stuck in a canal is so goddamn funny.

The hyperventilating kicks in. You’re far enough from camp you can’t hear the others. You can risk making noise, even if it’s shameful bawling.

Ain’t no one to see or hear you, no one to stop yourself from clawing at your own hair or hitting your head against the dirt. Nobody to point out the wet mess of your face.

Just you and the golden sunshine.

It’d be easy to die. Wouldn’t have none of these worries, no more, and wouldn’t be around to care if Astarion friendship-dumped you and Lae’zel was down with letting you die. No more nasty potions. No more sleeping on hard ground with a rock wedged into your hip. No goblins or brainworms or murder or devils. No more goddamn decisions. No more horrible fucking waiting for the decision to be wrong and for that other shoe to finally, inevitably just fucking drop already.

And if your soul is still on Earth, or closer or whatever woo woo bullshit this all is, maybe if you kick it here and now, it can find its way back.

You don’t want to die. You’re just kinda tired of being alive.

Gale said this was risky. It might not even be up to you in the end, huh?

And that gives you some fucked up comfort. Small, weak, but there. All you have to do is walk back, drink one last, goddamn potion, and lie down. Let what happens happen.

You look over the silver glimmering of the water dancing in the light. Your ancestors went to water to cleanse themselves. Probably not a bad idea. Live or die, at least you can do it clean of spectator guts.

***

The sun skims the treetops by the time you come back. Gale is deep in conversation with Shadowheart. Karlach notices you first. Comes bounding over and opens her arms to kind of hover her hands near your sides.

God, you want to hug her for real.

“How’re you feeling, soldier?” she says. “Up for this wizard shit?”

You’re quite numb, actually. But you throw her a thumbs up and a, “Let’s do this.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s the spirit! Gale told us what he told you. You’re a mean, clever little thing. You got this.”

Shit, she’s kinda worth staying for.

Gale has optimistically laid out a bedroll for you near the fire. Karlach has apparently punched her tent poles around that bedroll and set up a canopy over the whole thing (minus the fire).

“Thank you,” you say.

She does that head-duck shrug thing again.

Gale and Shadowheart meet you at the edge of the magical operating theater.

“Ready?” he says.

No.

“Sure,” you say.

It ain’t really your choice no more.

You lay down. Wiggle around until you’re at least kind of comfortable.

Wyll has propped himself up on his pack so he can give you a smile. He says, “For moral support.”

And then Karlach looms over you again, and she’s got that raggedy teddy bear, Clive.

“I thought,” she says. Shuffles. “Thought this might do you more good than me right now.”

That plucks something in you. Baby soft, thinner than spider silk, but it’s there, and it’s touched. She has to drop it on you so she don’t get too close and burn off your eyebrows. Clive’s a bit charred, a bit tacky from whatever she puts on him to keep him from lighting up, and he smells of sulfur and grease.

You tuck him into the crook of your arm.

“Right,” Gale says. And you been so busy watching all the others you didn’t notice Withers lurking in. You only jump a little, this time. “Eleanor, we’re going to give you a sleeping potion. Should knock you right out. I don’t know what this will be like for you, but we will do all we can. Try not to lose yourself, and hopefully, the potion and our spells will draw you back here, yes?”

You nod.

Shadowheart kneels and holds up a bottle. You feel cold all over, super detached. Death or exile. One of them’s gonna happen.

“Bottom’s up,” you say and slam it down.

For some godforsaken reason, this one tastes like motherfucking cotton candy.

“What the shit,” you sputter. Try to grimace. But a cool hand slips over yours to hold it and you…

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #tavstarion #astarion x tav #isekai #slow burn #it's getting dark #angst with a happy ending #tav is really going through the shit right now

[avanalae]

Athena and Ares

omg guys guess who came back months later to this in her drafts /cries

___

Title: Athena and Ares Fandom: Batman (DCU)/Greek mythology  Verse: Myth!verse Characters: Tim Drake, Athena, Ares Pairing: Ares/Tim, (forshadowed) Ares/Tim/Aphrodite Rating: 2052 Warnings: I have since played Hades and will never not be able to escape thinking about it when writing about Greek myth. Thus, Ares and Aphrodite are totally married and Hephaestus is with his Charity, Aglaea, who is not Athena. Wordcount: 2053

___

It had been a typical day before this, but considering how things had been going the past few months, maybe this could be called typical as well?

“Since I couldn’t do anything about my fool of an uncle at the time, I made it so she could protect herself instead. When I ask her about it and gave her some options, she was most enthusiastic about that one. And so…” Mocha-toned fingers make a wiggling motion by her head.

“Huh. I had wondered about that, admittedly,” Tim hums and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Yes, many have and while I do not like to involve myself in such things unnecessarily, once the internet became more common it was easy enough to use to get the ball rolling.”

“Ah, were you involved in that, too?” he tilts his head consideringly, “Being the goddess of wisdom and all.”

The woman shakes her head, her curly grey hair swaying against her cheeks. Tucking a lock behind her ear, she explains, “While I was not directly involved, it’s reasonable to think so. Other gods of wisdom and invention were the first to trigger the process, but all of us with such things as our domain become involved in such monumental developments, even if indirectly.”

“Like an inherent collaboration thing?”

Athena squints at him over her frappuccino. “…I suppose you could think of it that way. All things are intrinsically connected, after all, and gods are not free from this principle. While I am a completely separate entity from, say, my dear Saraswati or Benzaiten, I have a deeper connection with them than I do others from their pantheons. We are not interchangeable, but it’s easy enough to help and cover for each other when needed.”

“Wow, neat,” Tim comments, “I wish I could have copies of myself to help out, like, all the time.”

She rolls her eyes, “That is because of your tendency to overwork yourself unnecessarily.”

Tim glowers, but she just looks down to the table at the three empty mugs left at the edge of the table. Two had been cleared earlier and one, mostly empty, was in his hands.

“…I just like coffee.”

“Uh-huh.”

“…”

Athena raises an eyebrow.

“Okay fine maybe I work a bit too much. But all of us are busy these days.”

“An interesting thing about wisdom is that there are many facets to it. It is wise to know your skills and how to utilize your abilities to benefit yourself and others. However, it is equally as wise to know when it is time to do nothing.” The goddess leans back in her seat, crossing her legs, “While I greatly admire your intelligence, strategic mind, and more… I find your wisdom often lacking.”

Resting a hand over his heart, Tim gasps, “Rude?!”

Rolling her eyes again, Athena picks up her frappuccino and loudly slurps the last of it through the bright pink straw.

Tim pouts.

“Anyway,” she sets the empty cup aside, licking her lips, “I should get going. I have a feeling that-“

The doors of the coffee shop burst open.

“Hey, ’Thena! Are you here?”

“-something annoying is about to happen.” She finishes, her deadpan expression only mostly obscuring her contempt.

The tall man in the doorway is dressed rather typically for an Olympian, unlike Athena’s casual jacket and jeans. His broad frame, dark skin, and stark white hair only making him more intimidating in the eyes of the regular customers. However, like true Gothamites, they just go on edge instead of panicking immediately.

Looking around, the man quickly spots the two of them and strides over.

Glancing between the two gods, Tim quickly concludes.

“Ares?” he mutters to Athena, and she grimaces. Ah.

The god slams his hand on the table, thankfully not causing any damage, “My dear sister, did you think I would stand still after realizing your trickery?”

Athena looks at him blandly, “To be honest, dear brother, I don’t expect much of anything from you. Ever.”

“Ha! Well, then I shan’t bother considering it. I will, however, gladly take my revenge for you running off and meeting with Timothy first.” Ares snaps out, and Tim feels his heart drop in sudden anxiety when the man turns and looks straight at him.

“Ah- I-ACK!!”

Tim is grabbed and hefted over a bulky shoulder so quickly that his head spins.

“I will be on my way, now,” Ares chuckles and turns around. Tim is disorientated but he manages to look up and he sees Athena grumbling while waving over their waitress.

These gods are all so rude.

__

After a few minutes of his stomach against the unforgiving surface of Ares’ shoulder, Tim’s had enough. As the god leaps up to the next highest roof, Tim grunts out in pain at another punch to the stomach. He stabs his elbow into the nearest weak points he can reach, “Ugh! Put me down!!” He doesn’t do much damage, but he doesn’t expect to. He just- “Augh!”

Ares lands on the roof and adjusts his hold, flipping Tim and sliding him down until his back rests against the crook of his left arm. Tim is left disorientated once more, his right hand on that troublesome shoulder and his left atop the large hand by his hip.

“Terribly sorry for the bumpy ride, dearest Tim.” Ares apologizes and leans over him, his large form nearly covering him completely. “Are you alright?”

“Ugh,” Tim opens one eye to glare at him, “Do I look alright to you?”

The god leans even closer and presses his lips to Tim’s temple, “Do accept my apologies, dear. I wished to remove you from there sooner rather than later.”

Tim stares at him once he pulls back, suddenly wondering if he’s going to have to fend off more advances. He then registers their position and startles, pushing on the god’s shoulder. “Uh, can you let go of me, please?” The gods he’s met have all been impressive, but this one in particular is possibly as big, if not bigger, than Bruce. It’s intimidating.

Ares hums and doesn’t move. “I’m not sure. Now that I’m finally holding you, I can’t seem to bring myself to let go.” He moves and pulls Tim closer so that their chests are against each other and braces the young man against him with one arm. The other runs up Tim’s side, getting a delightful shiver. “You are even more enticing in person, my dear. While I have admired the strength you bear in such a lithe body, I find myself appreciating it more upon closer examination.” His large hand runs down from his shoulder to caress his arm, prodding and manipulating to admire the musculature.

Tim isn’t normally so sensitive, but the position they’re in is not helping his heart calm down. “Lord Ares-“

“Just Ares, my dear,” he hums, Tim’s smaller hand in his as his thumb massages into the soft palm, digging into tension Tim hadn’t notice (or had been ignoring).

“A-Ares…” he fights against the urge to melt and let the massaging continue, or worse, like asking him to massage him elsewhere. Clearing his throat, he tries to compose himself, “Ares, please, um, let me down.”

The god hums and looks down, drawing Tim’s eyes to- to where his hand is clutching Ares’ chiton right against his pectoral. Choking, he lets go and tries to pull back, ignoring the pouting god. “I need- I have things I need to do, so please let me go.”

Still pouting, Ares tries to catch Tim’s gaze and fails, “Ah, alas. Alright, my dear, I will capitulate.”

Why is this man’s vocabulary so extravagant? Tim wonders, distracted once again. But the god does put him down, incredibly gently, to his surprise. He swats at the hand lingering on his hip and tries to ignore the god of war’s sad face. What is he now, a puppy?

“Are you really here to see me? Don’t you have something better to do?” He doesn’t mean to sound so accusing, but he’s flustered.

“I believe visiting a beloved hero such as yourself is a worthy cause on its own.” He chuckles at Tim’s flustering, “My dear Aphrodite has also been interested in meeting you.”

“Huh?”

“She originally intended to send me to kidnap you so we could spend some… time together more intimately.”

“WHA-?!”

“She made a bet with Athena, however, and it would seem that we lost. So, I will just have to enjoy this moment to share with her later.”

Tim gives up and just tries not to think too hard on the implications the war god is dropping like candy. He’s not unexperienced with such things, after all, and he can tell that if he tries anything, Ares will take the excuse to really kidnap him.

“Then I will ask you for one thing of you before I go, if I could.”

Hesitant, but desperately wishing to get out of this situation, Tim nods, “If it’s something I can do, sure.”

“Wonderful! Then, excuse me,” Ares gently grasps Tim’s chin and tilts it up. Leaning closer, the god grins at Tim’s wide eyes, “would you allow me a kiss?”

He asks, as their lips are already close enough that Tim can almost feel them already. But the much larger figure teases by keeping them millimeters apart, even nudging Tim’s nose with the point of his own. Finally realizing that he needed to respond, Tim releases his lower lip, not having noticed his nervous biting until then.

“I-“ he looks into sparkling ruby-red eyes and has to swallow. “Um, yes?” God, he’d meant to say no but he doesn’t regret it as the intimidating puppy before him beams and swoops down.

Again, Tim is pulled against the god of war by his waist and bent backwards as the god finally captures his lips. It’s an immediate and consuming heat that steals his breath away. The burning lips part for a heated tongue to stroke its way into Tim’s mouth, enticing, leaving him falling apart in Ares’ arms. All he can do is grip thick biceps weakly, trying not to melt.

Is it due to being Aphrodite’s lover? The other Olympians who’d managed to steal a kiss weren’t quite as…. Skilled? Intense? It’s hard to think of the right word with his brain melting under Ares’ talented tongue.

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but Tim is breathing heavily by the time the separate. He blinks a few times, eventually managing to focus on Ares a minute later. On Ares, whose smug grin is both aggravating but also well-deserved. Instead of smacking him upside the head, Tim submits to his skills and just sighs. He pushes at the broad chest, still catching his breath, “Alright, you got what you wanted, so let go.”

“Alas,” the giant puppy sighs sadly, “I suppose I shouldn’t be too greedy, for now.” Tim doesn’t feel great about that “for now.” “Many thanks for the kiss, my gracious one. I will treasure this memory for a long time.”

“Yes, yes,” Tim pushes again, flustered, “Glad to help. Or- Ugh, just, if there’s nothing else, please go now, like you said you would.”

Ares lets him go slowly, reluctantly, but eventually Tim can take several steps away from the potential threat. “Alright, my dear, I will go. Hopefully I will be able to see you not too far into the future. Perhaps with my lover in tow?” He seems to consider it for a moment, before moving on. “Then I shall depart. Do think of me tonight, won’t you?”

With a flash that has Tim shielding his eyes, Ares disappears.

“Ugh,” he rubs his face after making sure the god had really gone, “damn it. He really got me, didn’t he?” Tim licks his lips, then flushes when he realizes what he just did. “Ugh, why did he have to be such a good kisser? That’s not fair.” After burying his face in his hands until he’d calmed down, he sighs and tries to pull himself back together.

Looking around, though, Tim realizes something.

He was on the roof of a building that had no easily visible access point. He was in civvies. And it was still only the afternoon.

“That damn-!”

#Ava fics #Myth!verse #Batman #fanfiction #greek mythology #tim drake #athena #ares #greek myth au

[sl-newsie]

Distant: Mouthpiece x OC *Halloween Special* 🎃

Summary: The Jets and Sharks throw a Halloween dance, which attracts the attention of a girl who’s had her eye on Mouthpiece for some time. (Also I did look it up, the fanbase officially named Mouthpiece as Harvey Gonzales! I had no idea!)

“Uh, Grazi? A little help- ah!” The ladder swerves again and I can feel myself falling-!

“Gotcha!”

Strong arms reach out and catch me just before my head hits the ground, and I already know it’s Mouthpiece from how hard he’s laughing.

“Wow, Diana! That’s quite a fall! What’d ya do to make the ladder so mad?” His warm touch makes me shiver and before I can get too flushed he stands me up. “There! Right as rain, yeah?”

I swallow my feelings and smile. “Yup, alright here! Say you wouldn’t by chance be going to the dance-?”

“Hey, Mouthpiece!” Action scoots over and drags him away to the group-a Jets for some stupid prank, leaving me high and dry with no date.

Every. Single. Time. Every time I try to ask him out, Mouthpiece is always preoccupied! You’d think that by all the hints I’ve given that he’d wise up, but sadly that’s not been the case.

Just then Grazi and Velma walk up. “Took a nasty fall, huh Diana?”

I scowl. “Sure, you turn up just as the Jets show up. Where were you when I was about to get a concussion?”

She shrugs and sucks on a lollipop. “It’s not my problem you’re a klutz. Now go finish hanging the pumpkins.”

Normally I’d refuse and fight back, but I don’t mind pitching in for the Halloween event. It’s one of my favorite holidays, and it’ll be so rewarding when I show up tonight in my costume. It’s a vampiress dress that I sewed it myself, and found the poifect wig last week. 

After retreating to the back-a the gym, I find the last of the plastic pumpkins and start placing them next to the concessions table. Seeing everyone chat and get excited for the dance makes me feel bittersweet. When it comes to friends I don’t involve myself with the drama of the West Side goils, and instead find friends in odda places. Mouthpiece, Baby John, Kid Blink and Skittery from ‘Hattan, and a few from Brooklyn. Call me a tomboy, but I just can never understand why goils is so interested in gossip. Their jibber-jabber is way more strange than the boys’ jibber-jabber. And tonight it’s sad to say that hardly any of my friends will be here- or at least the ones that will talk with me. Maybe I can hang with Baby John while Mouthpiece continues to ignore my proposals.

“Nearly finished?” The principal walks up behind me.

I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m very glad that the Jets have been behaving.”

“I agree, though this time of year always makes me antsy. They always seem to slip Halloween pranks under my nose and I can never find out how! Thanks again for helping out with the setup.”

As the principal walks away I hold back a chuckle. No doubt the Jets have partnered with the Sharks to do something even bigger this year. Last time they dumped a bucket of pumpkin guts all over the teachers. Lord knows what’ll happen tonight.

“Diana! Ready to go?” 

It’s Baby John, followed by his goil Jackie. Of course every decent guy I know already has a date, leaving me to be the lonely wallflower tonight.

I force a smile. “Sure am, Johnny. You and Jackie all set for the bash tonight?”

Jackie, Velma’s little sis, grins and nudges John’s shoulder. “You bet we are! We’re wearing matching costumes! What are you going as?”

“It’s a surprise,” I say simply, then add a smirk. “You’ll have to wait and see. Now let’s go!”

After I’ve walked home and set my heavy backpack down, my mother’s already buzzing up to me.

“Diana, dear! Did you ask him?”

I bite my lip and busy myself by washing my hands. “Yes.”

“And?” My mother waits on-edge.

This is what I get for being too open with my parents.

“He never said anything. I’m going alone.”

My mother sighs and pulls me in for a hug. “Dear, you shouldn’t be going alone to social gatherings. At your age you should be going on dates! Is there anyone else you’d like to ask?”

My anger starts boiling and I push away with the hint of a scowl on my face. “No, all the odda boys are already taken or too stupid! Now can we please talk about something odda than my depressing social life?”

Before she can respond I dash outta the kitchen and rush upstairs, shutting my bedroom door and collapsing in my desk chair. Just relax. Just because he doesn’t feel the same doesn’t mean your life is over. Time to get my costume on.

Once I’ve zipped up my sleek black dress and clipped on my crimson cape, I all but wrap my honey-colored hair up in tape in order to fit on the wig. Black heels complete the look, and after a touch of goth makeup I head downstairs where I find my father waiting.

“Oh no! A vampire! Don’t bite me!” he teases as I walk over to grab my coat. “Remember pumpkin, you don’t need to have a date to have a good time. The fun is all in how you chose to spend your time, so go have a happy Halloween!”

At least his pep talk is better than mother’s.

I allow a small smile and give him a hug goodbye. “Thanks, dad. I’ll see you later.”

As I walk back to the gym I see it’s gotten much darker, almost sunset. My costume seems to give me some much-needed confidence and it helps even more when the people I pass keep giving me odd looks. All the perks of being something scary. When I get to the gym it’s super crowded with various costumes, but hardly any of them are like mine. No one decided to be scary this year? Sad.

“Whoa! And who are you, good-look’n?” I hear Action ask behind me.

I turn and find he’s dressed as a pirate, and is also standing with Riff, Bernardo, and Mouthpiece, who recognizes me instantly. His eyes look as if they’re about to pop out.

“Diana? That’s you? Geez, that’s quite a getup!”

“Like it?” I ask, just a little bit shy. 

He nods repeatedly. “Yeah! You’s always so- so…”

“So goody-two-shoes?” Grazi walks up dressed as a flapper goil and smirks at my outfit. “Bit goth, don’t ya think? You going to a funeral?”

I let her snappy insults wash right over me and decide to walk away to the concession table where Tony and Maria are standing, both dressed in homemade candy corn costumes.

“Hola, Diana! Please join us!” Maria beckons me over. 

“Luv the costume!” Tony praises.

I smile and shrug. “Thanks, that means a lot. At least you guys think so. I just escaped the drama queen herself.”

Maria’s face scrunches up. “Oh, no. You can hide over here with us. Forget about Grazi.”

Tony nods. “Trust me, Diana. Nearly every guy here’s given you at least a second glaze since you came in.”

I bite my lip and look away. “I just wish Mouthpiece would notice. But all he ever does is act like I'm just any odda person, even though we’s been friends since kindergarten.”

Tony starts to say something, but then gets interrupted by Riff. He and Maria go off to join the odda Sharks and Jets, leaving me once again to be alone. 

I sigh and mudda to myself. “I wish Spot or Blink were here…”

“Well they might not be, but you get the next-best thing!” A voice says from behind.

My eyes light up and I turn around to be met in a big hug. “Racetrack Higgins, you son-of-a-gun! You crashed the party?”

“I couldn’t miss a chance to see my brodda now, could I? Besides, you guys have way more fun dances than we do!”

Seeing the Manhattan boy gives me new-found joy, but that still doesn’t hide my previous feelings.

“So what’s got ya down, Di? You’s all dolled up in this gorgeous outfit and you’s off in the corner look’n sadder than the dead.”

I huff and roll my eyes. “With how people are here I might as well be dead. All my friends got dates except me. That and your brodda’s been putting me on the back burner.”

Race gets a distant look in his eye, then smirks. “Well see, that’s the thing with us… When there’s one-”

“The odda ain’t far behind!” Mouthpiece sneaks up and tickles my sides.

“Wait- you- Mouthpiece stop it!” I cackle as I try to squirm away. “Did you know Race was coming?”

Mouthpiece playfully shoves his twin brodda and they both laugh. “Can’t split us up all the time, can they? I tried to find ya but you’s off hiding over here!”

Race sneaks me a strange look with a gleam in his eye. “I think I’ll meet up with you two later. Right now I’s gonna go scam some punch.”

He walks off, and almost instantly Mouthpiece’s body language changes to be more stiff. As if I’ve got a contagious disease. How did things change this much?

“So, um… I haven’t seen ya around much.” That’s because you haven’t noticed! “How’s it been?”

It’s been saddening to see my friend get distant from me.

“I’ve been… ok. I see you’ve become good chums with the Sharks.”

He laughs and looks over at where the odda boys are talking. “Yeah, we’ve got a great prank planned for tonight! Wait ‘till you see it!”

Normally I’d share his enthusiasm, but I still can’t understand how he thinks ignoring me and then chatting it up is all fine and dandy.

“Great. Gonna be a blast, I bet. Um, I gotta go. Have fun tonight, Harvey.”

His real name. Mouthpiece knows I never use his real name.

I turn and hurry away to lose him in the giant mob of students, all previous thoughts of excitement and Halloween all forgotten. Of all nights why did it have to be during my favorite holiday? Unfortunately my dark outfit stands out like a sore thumb and Mouthpiece spots me before I get to the back door.

“Diana, wait!” He scoots out right behind me. “You avoiding me?” He talks in a joking manner, as if it’s nothing.

How is this fair?! “But that’s- It’s not-! Ugh! I can’t believe you can’t- Never mind!” I keep walking away into the streets bustling with trick-or-treaters, but he still follows.

“Wait, what’s wrong? What can’t I understand-?”

I lose what’s left of my little self-control and shove him against a lamppost. “I’m in luv with you, you stupid Jet! I’ve tried and tried to show you but every time you act as if I’m just a friend and will always be just a friend!”

His face flashes 50 different expressions, ending with an open-mouth flabbergasted look. “But… you’s never said anything before.”

“Just because I’m quiet don’t mean I don’t have something to say. But how would you even know if I did say something? You’ve been more distant than I have! Now unless you’re gonna be my friend again then please leave! Maybe I can squeeze in some trick-or-treating to help save what’s left of tonight…”

Just then, strong hands grab my hips and I’m turned to face Mouthpiece’s bright blue eyes. 

“Say you won’t kill me-” My breath hitches as he leans in and presses a soft kiss on my cheek. “I never thought I was good enough… never wanted to put you in danger. But I never wanted to seem cold or distant to ya. I’m sorry, Di.”

I- I don’t know what to say, what to do- He’s felt this way the whole time? “H- How could you put me in danger?” I ask in a shaky voice.

“Because-a the Jets. After what happened with Tony and Maria I thought that I’d never find a goil who’d put up with me, what I get caught up in.”

I set a steady look and bring a hand up to his face. “I’m not afraid to get dangerous, Harvey. You know me better than to think I’d shy away from danger. And since you’s on good terms with the Sharks now there’s been no more rumbles! I’ll luv you no matter how crazy your life is. I just hope I’m enough to keep you happy.”

Mouthpiece hugs me closer and buries his face in my wig. “God, Diana. Is that even a question? I luv you so much it’s been so hard not to say anything. Will ya still take me?”

My fingers run through his blonde hair and take a deep breath. “You’re never too dangerous for me, Harvey Gonzales. I’m finally glad to know you luv me back! I’ve missed you.”

Mouthpiece leans away slightly and gently removes my wig. “I wanna see you, your own hair, your own face- the face of the goil I’s luved my whole life. And I wanna kiss you again.”

So he does. Deep and passionate, but nothing too fast so it’s not uncomfortable. It’s everything I’ve waited for!

“D- Don’t you have a prank to do?” I try to say in-between kisses.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather stay here with you.”

When we break apart to breathe, in the dizzying bliss I put my head on his shoulder and nip at his neck. 

Mouthpiece chuckles. “Uh-oh, I got bit by a vampiress. The nicest, hottest vampiress I could ever deserve.”

I let his childish joke slide and hug him impossibly closer, letting out a happy sigh. “Good to have you back, Harvey.”

#west side story #west side story imagine #west side story 2021 #west side story mouthpiece #mouthpiece west side story #mouthpiece #riff west side story #bernardo west side story #maria west side story #tony west side story #anita west side story #west side story baby john #spot colon #kid blink #racetrack newsies #racetrack higgins #newsies #newsies 1992 #west side story x reader #halloween costumes #halloween #trick or treat #action west side story

[fakesurprise]

The thing about magic is that it always has prices. Which is not the same thing as consequences. Those don't need magic at all. For every action, a reaction. This is as true for magicians as anyone else, even gods. Especially those who eat gods.

Charlie has left the hotel for a walk, and no one is going to bother her. Even the god inside her doesn't touch her own anger for a moment, which is gone the moment she has a pause to think about the anger.

I remain in the hotel room, pour myself a gin and tonic and wait. Ten minutes. Twenty. Almost thirty before Jay's voice whispers out of a space between shadows.

"Honcho?"

He is eleven, and from far Outside the universe. He knows and sees things I will never understand. Sometimes he is wisdom. Sometimes, also, one can almost forget he's not from around here at all, because Jay hides his true nature with an ease that would be terrifying if it wasn't Jay.

"Kiddo."

"Uhms! Charlie is really mad at me?" he whispers.

Not 'a Jay'. Not 'this Jay'. I have another sip of my drink.

"She is."

"I don't know why?" he says, and he is all eleven and confusled in those words, scared in a way nothing else could understand.

Magic has limits. Magicians have more. Jay doesn't, save perhaps jaysome. And his friends. Charlie was the second person Jay met, after me. He saw the god inside her, and that she could eat gods. Saw power, and hunger, and was afraid. Nothing has ever changed that, certainly not his own power.

Charlie forgets that too often, through no fault of her own.

"Jay. Charlie was cross over you turning her coffee into hot chocolate for - reasons?"

"Marshmallows don't melt as good in coffee and it was a helping," he says.

"I see. But Charlie likes her coffee, and it led to someone thinking she was cross at them when she stopped smiling at the taste."

"Uh-huh!"

"Jay. When Charlie is told to 'smile more' and you add that she can do that with a 'jaysome smile'...." I pause. "Telling someone they should smile more isn't a good binding."

Silence. Jay is behind me, visible, thinking. "Oh. Oh!" His eyes widen. "Wow, that's a really big accidenting!"

"Which you did. Charlie is calm now, but you owe her an apology."

"I am really jaysome at those!"

Jay vanishes.

I finish my drink.

I make a second one, for Charlie when she returns.

Ten seconds pass. Fifteen. Jay appears.

"CharlieiscomingbackandIdidanoopsbutfixedit!!!"

"Noted."

It is ls less than five minutes before Charlie comes in, rubbing her face with one hand. Jay is nowhere to be seen.

She accepts the drink. "He told me it was okay if I didn't smile. And that he could help with that," she adds. "I didn't enjoy not having a mouth."

"Ah."

Charlie pauses. "Is there a reason my gin and tonic has marshmallows in it?"

"One reason, yes."

She wisely keeps drinking it.

#writing #prose #magician series #small bit

[coffee-or-murder]

For the OC IC asks,

Lemon: 6, 9, 22?

Mantis: 12, 15, 32?

Zimri: 3, 18, 27?

Putting under a read more, and a mild warning for Zimri loosely describing her work as an escort.

Lemon: 6, 9, 22?

6. If you tell the truth, an evil person gets to walk away free. If you lie, you may be able to send them away like they deserve. Is honesty worth more than justice?

She scrunches her face up in thought, starting and stopping a couple of sentences before huffing lightly. “Okay so honestly? Depends. Like what kind of evil are we talking? Because if a whole region of people would benefit from that person being put away, and they’ve done awful things in the past that they got away with, I would. The law let’s people do all sorts of things they shouldn’t, so why not take advantage of it if there’s an opportunity?” she says before sighing. “Still it would depend on the person, and what they’ve done. But yeah. I’d lie.” 

9. Can people be held accountable for things people close or related to them did or are they innocent?

Lemon’s dark green eyes blink in surprise, frowning as she tilts her head in confusion. “No? Not unless they were involved? What’s the saying? Uh-father’s name and responsibility umm-,” she says, looking up in thought before perking up. “Oh! “We are born with our father's names. We are not responsible for their failures. We are responsible for what they made us believe in. That is our only obligation. And it is even then a choice which we may sometimes be wise to ignore.” That one. It’s a tidy little quote I think…even if I can’t quite recall where I read it. Still, the thought that even if your parents failed you or tried to teach you awful things you can still unlearn them. It feels right. You shouldn’t be held responsible for the actions of someone who has power over you.”  

22. How do you feel about having an intimate relationship with someone you don’t love? What if they love you in return? Does that make you feel guilty?

Lemon blushes deeply, dark enough that some of her lighter freckles disappear under the red staining her face, and she pulls her hair forward to hide behind her braid as she looks at the floor. “Sweet butter biscuits y’all don’t hold back with anything huh?” she practically squeaks, mumbling something under her breath as she attempts to reorient herself, failing miserably as the blush spreads to the tip of her ears and down her neck. “Okay wow um-so-geez okay. It’s uh…been considered before, for curiosity's sake if nothing else. I could um-yes I could have a…an um…intimate relationship with someone I didn’t love love, but we’d have to be friends at least? I wouldn’t ah-wouldn’t want to be like that with someone I didn’t at least get along with,” Lemon stumbles through an attempt at an explanation, sinking deeper into the chair as she does. “If it was platonic I could, but um-if feelings got involved it might be better to stop? Right? I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone like that. That would be awful. Really awful.”

Mantis: 12, 15, 32?

12. If someone else stole something and you stole it back is that a good deed, a bad deed or one of equal worth? Are you better than the original thief? 

Mantis’ arms cross in front of her, unintentionally accentuating the lines of musculature of her arms. She grins wide, tilting her head jauntily. “Makes me a better thief don’t it? Doesn’t seem bad to me. Least as long as I return the thing to the owner….who I’m assuming hired me to bring it back?” she says, scratching the back of her head as she thinks. “Is it supposed to be a “stealing is bad” thing? Cause that’s kinda dumb.” 

15. Is lying to others to gain their approval more important than being genuine and hated?

She laughs, head tilted back as she grins lopsided at the interviewer. “Nah I’d rather be liked for who I am. Not much of an actor. I can’t lie worth a damn anyway,” Mantis says before her grin gets softer, though no less bright and pleased. “I’ve got friends who like me plenty, and Cricket. Don’t have room for people who need me to pretend to like me.”  

32. If you could choose to remove certain feelings such as anger, confusion, sadness, would you remove them?

Mantis’ entire face scrunches up, stuck between a wince and looking like she bit into something that was definitely not tasty. “....no? Seems silly. No payoff that way.”

Zimri: 3, 18, 27?

3. If you could jump back through time to save a loved one’s life, would you? Despite what it might do to the timeline? To everyone else? Do you believe it is their fate to die regardless?

Zimri leans back, arms resting across the back of the chaise as she reclines comfortably. One thick well groomed brow arches up at the question, and she hums softly. “No. The only person who I would have tried to save was already ancient. Zidler knew what she was doing when she covered for me,” she says, lightly hooking her finger through one of her large gold hoop earrings to fiddle with it. “She made that choice herself. Besides, I wouldn’t have met Ra’d if I’d stayed. Most likely be dead myself. Of course I miss the old woman but….no. I wouldn’t.”

18. Have you ever done something morally wrong? If it’s morally wrong do you regret it?

“Morals can almost always be bought, and they vary so widely between different places it’s impossible to keep up with what is Wrong and what Isn’t,” she laughs, leveling amber eyes at the interviewer as she smiles. “It depends entirely on what you consider morally wrong. Let’s say a man paid me to fuck him, and all I know is the name he’s given me and how much coin he brought. I do have quite a few clients like that after all. Turns out he’s married. Does that make it immoral? What if the wife knew and didn’t care? What if she did care but didn’t know? What if he didn’t put his dick in me and I just watched him jack it and told him he’s a dirty old man?” Zimri says, holding her hands out to shrug lightly before placing them across the back of the chaise lounge. “Someone will find fault with it somewhere. Maybe they'll blame the husband for paying for my services. Maybe they’ll blame the lusty greed driven tiefling who seduced him. Either way, it's not my problem. The client paid for a service, we’re consenting adults, and whatever nonsense they bring in is their own to deal with.”

27. How far would you go to achieve a dream or ideal? Does it matter who suffers? Does it matter if you suffer?

Zimri’s eyes wrinkle in disgust as she frowns, scoffing and rolling her eyes. “I’m not a noble. Of course I care….sort of,” she says, pronged tail flicking lightly as she puts her thoughts in order. “It may not seem it but I do have some morals. Of course I care when people are suffering, but I’m realistic about what I can actually do. I can rope some street kids into dancing with me so I have an excuse to split the profits between them, make sure they have at least one good meal, but I can’t adopt every poor urchin I see. I don’t have the means,” she says, still scowling as her tail continues to twitch in annoyance. “I know I look like a delicate flower but I am capable. I can handle myself well enough. My own suffering can be dealt with.”

#dnd lemon #lemon dnd #dnd mantis #mantis dnd #dnd zimri #zimri dnd

[linawritesocs]

𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐬𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

yay, the first ghost marriage vignette, let's go! time for nrc to burn down, for lise to fight for her man, and avery and allen fight for their girl (who's actually epel's girl) and try not to fall in love with each other.

also, this (and the future ones too) vignette will be written in a different format, it's not really a drabble/scenario, but.. think of it as a long lesson chat dhjsjksksk i kinda wanted to keep that "visual novel" vibe and also writing drabbles just takes way too much time for me. and i just wanted to experiment. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy :)

avery: "ugh, what is this guy doing here.."

avery: "i thought that this was a nrc-only thing? why allen, who's a rsa student, would need to-"

avery: ".. ah. it all makes sense now."

avery: "of course, allen snowhill would want to come to someone's wedding if eureka was there. and of course, he would want to use this whole situation for his own advantage."

avery: "and where is she? i can't let this guy find her first."

avery: "i'm just doing this for her own safety. it's not like i care- who am i trying to fool? of course, i care."

avery: "oh, is that a female student over there? could that be-"

minnie: what are you looking at??

avery: "no, that's not eureka."

minnie: aren't you a pomefiore student? didn't your dorm leader tell you about proper manners before?

avery: he did. many times.

minnie: are you so stupid that no matter how many times he explained it to you, you still act like this?

avery: ..uh-

minnie: whatever. i don't have time for guys like you. i have to go and find eureka-sama.

avery: wait, you don't know where she is either?

minnie: of course, i know! i'm her right-hand woman, i'm her loyal assistant!

minnie: i.. i know where she is, i just need to go and get her.

avery: so, you don't know where she is.

minnie: .. fine, yeah, i have no idea where eureka-sama is, but look, i'm trying to find her, okay?

minnie: maybe she just needs to take a rest or she decided not to participate in this.. that would be so wise of her..

avery: wait, what are you even doing here? are you trying to get this ghost woman to marry you?

minnie: *looks at eliza* .. eh, i'll pass. i'm here to support eureka-sama! she's a bit scared, but that's alright!

minnie: what about you though? why are you participating in this?

avery: *sighs* well, you know, they pretty much forced all male students to act as grooms, so..

avery: also.. *looks at vil* this guy really wanted me to participate.

minnie: hm, i see.

minnie: ...

avery: ...

avery: *looks at minnie's dress* hey, you don't look bad in this.

minnie: huh? what's that supposed to mean?

avery: that you don't look bad?? why are you always looking for hidden meanings everywhere?

avery: also, your dress has a color scheme that's very similar to my outfit. heh, it's like we're matching.

minnie: .. what did you just say?

avery: look, my suit is pink and green, and your dress is pink and green, so-

minnie: DID YOU JUST SAY THAT WE'RE WEARING MATCHING OUTFITS??

avery: you don't have to be so loud about it?? look, everyone is staring at us now.

minnie: yes, because of you, idiot! you've started flirting with me all of a sudden!

avery: FLIRTING?? i was just joking around-

minnie: yeah, like i can believe that.

avery: here you go again, looking for hidden meanings. why do you have to be so serious all the time?

minnie: BECAUSE I HAVE TO, OKAY? I NEVER HAD A CHOICE!

avery: ...

minnie: .. i'm sorry.

minnie: wow, look at me, i really am being too loud, don't i?

avery: yeah, a bit.

minnie: *laughs and looks at avery's outfit*

minnie: well.. you also don't look so bad.

minnie: hold on, let me fix your suit real quick.

avery: wh- what are you doing?

minnie: your tie too.. seriously, how do you plan on impressing eureka-sama while looking like this?

avery: impressing who?

minnie: there you go, all buttoned up. hm, your hair looks okay. i bet vil-senpai made you take care of it.

avery: you're not wrong at all.

avery: but why did you decide to help me? i thought you hated guys?

minnie: look, i don't want to do anything with male students, but it doesn't mean that i can just let you show up like this. not in front of the bride, eureka-sama and other girls!

minnie: also, i just.. you really are pretty, so i don't want you to waste your looks like this.. i want you to use your full potential, avery-senpai.

avery: wow, you and vil would be best friends.

avery: but uh.. t-thank you.

minnie: woah, did i just make avery glass, a huge tsundere, thank me? i can't believe it!

avery: oh, shut up.

minnie: hehe, you're back to normal~

avery: whatever. i'll go and try to find eureka, wanna go with me?

minnie: oh well, now that you're looking much better thanks to me, i guess i can join you!

avery: good. we have to find her sooner than this guy does. *looks at allen*

allen: *smiles at avery and waves his hand*

minnie: i think i've seen him before.. wait, isn't that the guy who keeps visiting our dorm without our permission??

minnie: what is he doing here?

avery: he's probably going to use this "romantic atmosphere" to dance with eureka or something. i'm sure his actual plan is much worse.

minnie: d-dance with eureka-sama?? not on my watch! we have to find her right now or-

*music starts playing*

minnie: huh?

avery: oh, great.

minnie: oh no, oh no, OH NO, we can't let him dance with eureka-sama! quick, we have to distract this guy!

avery: how exactly? i know allen, if he gets a crush on someone, he stops thinking about anything except them. he gets way too obsessed with them.

minnie: what?? just how creepy can he be? let me think, let me think..

avery: we don't have much time left, he's already looking for her!

minnie: oh, i have an idea.

minnie: *points at avery* you'll dance with him.

#haha that moment when you and your love rival end up dancing together #i think i'll keep the actual dance scene for allen's vignette #anyway how are we feeling about avery and minnie interacting #i think allen's vignette will be longer THIS ONE IS JUST AN EXPERIMENT BASICALLY BHJDKDLSD #beauty with self grown thorns: avery #the mouse girlboss: minnie #friends' ocs!

[xlollisbedlamx]

ode to having a friend

by lolli g

Tonight is not going to be me ranting and raving about b.f…tonight I will talk about the wonderful friends that I am so lucky to have. Just as I am feeling at my worst, like I want to die…like I want to quit, I have two wonderful friends unknowingly show me there is more to life than b.f.

I knew that all along but I guess I needed to be shown…shown that I can be funny and entertaining without him by my side. I had gotten to the point where I thought I was useless…that because he didn't want me no one would. Ok i lied, it's a little about b.f. But the main point is there is more to life…how did i miss that. Don't get me wrong, I'm still shattered but less so…much less so. I guess I'll find out tomorrow…maybe this happiness will have disappeared but I am grateful to have had it for at least one night.

I don't have many friends because so many have hurt me in the past but unexpectedly I have two friends that actually give a shit. Yup…they like me for me. Imagine that. A girl can't really ask for more…i feel like i should insert the pearl jam lyrics “just breathe” so i will…

Yes, I understand that every life must end, uh-huh

As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, uh-huh

Oh I'm a lucky man, to count on both hands the ones I love

Some folks just have one, yeah, others, they've got none

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Practiced all my sins, never gonna let me win, uh-huh

Under everything, just another human being, uh-huh

I don't wanna hurt, there's so much in this world to make me bleed

Stay with me

You're all I see

Did I say that I need you?

Did I say that I want you?

Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see

No one knows this more than me

As I come clean

I wonder everyday, as I look upon your face, uh-huh

Everything you gave

And nothing you would take, oh no

Nothing you would take

Everything you gave

Did I say that I need you?

Oh, did I say that I want you?

Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see

No one knows this more than me

As I come clean, ah

Nothing you would take

Everything you gave

Hold me 'til I die

Meet you on the other side

b.f. i just went to bed and I still miss him when he leaves the room but it's time to get over that, time to grow up and learn things don't always work out the way you want them to. Yes i wanted him to love me but he doesn’t…he loves someone else….well two people but that's another long ass story. I am so glad for tonight and though it probably didn't mean as much to my friends it meant everything to me. They don't often get the chance to see eachother so it means even more that they let me chill with them. I never wanted to feel like they wanted me to leave or that I was encroaching on their time together. I guess I learned what real friends are at the age of forty-two. It took a long time but it was worth the wait. 

b.f. has moved on and it's time that i do too. My bestie has taught me that. She is so wise and smart even though she is so much younger than me. I'm glad that she is learning all these lessons earlier than I did. Lucky bitch lol. She deserves it though if anyone does. So I will end this by saying I am blessed and I hope I will always have them in my life, especially my bestie…she is one in a million and I hope everyone gets to have someone like her in their lives. Wow this was a gushy entry but what the fuck…sometimes you gotta be gushy.

#friends #love #sadness #thankful #moving on #heartbreak

[catharsis-in-a-bottle]

Tips for ✨not dying✨ during online school

[brought to you by: a high schooler who hasn’t died yet✨]

To avoid headaches - If you’re staring at a screen for hours at a time, a good way to avoid headaches is turning on night mode / night light. On a computer, you can go to your system settings, go into the ‘display’ section, and turn on night mode, which filters out blue light and can help your head ✨not die✨

Water - Keep a water bottle near you, drink glasses periodically, whatever you gotta do. H2O is also essential for avoiding headaches and for feeling generally okay, whatever your definition of ‘generally okay’ may be. Water helps you ✨not die✨

To save your muscles - any time you have a break, stand up (if you can). Just at least stand up. Stretch, even. As long as you take a small break from being in the same spot all day, your muscles will ✨not die✨

Organize the way you like - whether you prefer a clear space or a cozy little clutter of stuff, make sure you have the materials you need readily accessible and that you know where they are. (Also, knick knacks. Got a fidget you like? Keep it nearby!) Organization isn’t necessarily having everything shoved in a closet - it’s just knowing where things are. Feeling good in your own space is a good way to ✨not die✨

Clothes - do what makes you feel comfortable but also productive. If you feel good in sweatpants, then go for it, but if you need your fancy clothes to feel like a Busy Businessperson, then wear your fancy clothes. As long as you feel like you can work. (Unless you’re like me and you have to wear a uniform. Yay Catholic school. At least you only have to put on the top half?) Be comfy and you will ✨not die✨

Please add to this + share/reblog!!

Save our small child / adult / human / alien brains :( :(

#school #online school #school tips #love how my standard at this point is just ✨not dying✨ #school stuff #how do i tag this so it reaches ppl? #help out the kiddies / adulties y’all #tips #life hacks #i guess #life tips #ah yes i am the wise one uh huh #thoughts #education #educational system

[uuujeewriting]

you can do it! [albedo, kaeya, childe, zhongli and diluc]

s/o has been going through a depressive episode and lacks motivation to finish their work and is getting anxiety because of it

tw: none, mentions of depression/anxiety, nothing too much. fluffy comfort <3

albedo x gn!reader, kaeya x gn!reader, childe x gn!reader, zhongli x gn!reader, diluc x gn!reader

a/n: self indulgent bc i'm way behind school and in the middle of a depressive episode so motivation's been lacking ;-; hope you guys are having a good week tho!

i would like to clarify that if any of these scenarios/hc's of mine are similar to other writers' works, it is unintentional and i apologize

albedo

oh? unmotivated you say.. self depricating thoughts? intrusive ones too?

albedo was never one to mope around when he was stuck on some problem he's yet to puzzle together, but seeing you exhausted, anxious and so... dull–he desperately wants to take all your worries away

he's a bit slow, failing to realize your depressive episode for a few days. as it prolongs, he notices how you seem to talk down to yourself and give up easily

sometimes, you don't even start work at all

this is due to your anxiety, he assumes as you think you're incapable of finishing or doing the work satisfactorily enough.

pulling you into an embrace from behind as you work on the projects you've been stuck on for the past few weeks, he gently whispers into your shoulder

"darling, have you been alright recently? are you in need of assistance?" he asks

he presses a loving kiss on your neck and you stifle a chuckle

"it's that apparent, no? i've been under the weather for quite a while now.."

as you explain your reasons and all your troubles to his end, he nods and hums ever so often

"you must be feeling drained, hm? well, frankly enough, i seem to need a break myself."

"eh? albedo where-!!”

he pulls you away from your working place and carries you to the couch, laying you down gently as he smiles at you

"aside from your unmotivated self, i reckon you need reassurance for those intrusive thoughts of yours."

and that, ladies, gentlemen and folks, is how you end up cuddling with albedo until the sun sets and you fall asleep

bask in the comfort of his words as he calls you his everything and more :')) <333

kaeya

my, oh my. what's gotten into his precious little love?

he's sharp, quite easily takes notice to your frantic and dim self.

he sees you sitting outside, head in your hands and sighs leaving your lips every now and then

unbeknownst to you, he creeps behind you and presses a careful peck on the nape of your neck, causing you to flinch and look back quickly

he was about to laugh at your cuteness, but as soon as he's reminded of your troubled state, he sits beside you and takes your face into his hands

sir we're in the plaza-

"oh archons, why is my sunshine so dim these days?" he pouts

rip u probably after this

"kaeya.. well, you see-"

and as you explain your current doubts and anxieties, he strokes your cheeks softly and looks into your eyes fondly

when you're finished, he nods and presses a light kiss on your forehead, a silent promise to accompany and help you on your endeavors to face your troubles

"i'll always be here for you, my love. if there's anything i can help you with, do not hesitate to come into my arms, hm?"

"noted, mr. suave"

jkjk o r a m i

he laughs and kisses you on the edge of your mouth

"what say you we head into the tavern for a bit? you could use some relaxation, right?"

as if you had a choice other than to say yes

childe

this man would know the second it started

having a bunch of siblings has its benefits huh

when he walks into your shared room and sees you on the edge, tears brimming your eyes he sits you down on your bed

"hey, hey.. i'm here, it's alright."

as you cry in his embrace, he rocks you gently, shushing you softly in an attempt to hinder your tears

"you can tell me if you're up for it, honey. i'm never too busy for you."

"i-it's just that-"

mhm. oh? why, how dare they treat you so harshly. really? why must you have to be burdened so heavily?

he acknowledges your struggles and worries with gentle strokes and brushing through your hair

"you have it really rough, don't you? ah well, nothing we can do but-"

"childe?"

he stands up and leaves the room for a second

he comes back with food, drinks, your favorite clothing of his, a scented candle you bought and some books you have yet to finish reading

the action warms your heart as you sniffle and smile at your lover

as soon as he lays down with you, prepare to never see daylight again as he won't let go for the longest, and i mean longest time ever

"i love you, y/n. you're strong and don't let anything, not even yourself, make you think otherwise."

zhongli

dearest, must life be so unfair to you? why you out of all people?

zhongli is wise–he knows something is bothering you when it does. that being said, he isn't sure whether or not he should approach you so directly

especially if it seems like a sensitive topic

instead, in your depressive state and anxious fiddling, he calls you over to him

he pulls you into his lap as he takes your face into his hand and kisses you tenderly

"my dear, has anything been bothering you? might i offer my hand in dealing with them?"

you'd think kaeya's mr. suave then this man pops up with his broke ass

"as a matter of fact.."

as you go on and state your dealings and troubles, he listens with an almost solemn look

he looks at you with utmost affection and concern when you finish

"the terrains of life have been steep and intimidating, you have been very commendable for braving through these, my dearest."

he places his lips onto your own and strokes the back of your head lovingly

for a reserved man, zhongli easily expresses his affection for you in multitudes of ways

his kisses being one of them

after parting your lips, he peppers your face with his kisses and you laugh quietly at his ministrations

"might i suggest a quick stroll to take your mind off things?"

you agree, thinking that once you head home, you'll be back to work with a clearer mind

little did you know mr. no money in his pockets got a liiiittle surprise for you as you won't be returning to your work any time soon :DDDD

by 'surprise' i mean he's taking you out to dinner

yall nasties

diluc

diluc is a busy man, dealing with a winery and all

along with his night profession (which he has only admitted to you and the traveling duo)

you did your best to hide your troubled self and aid him in his work, but you can only hold the facade for so long before it eats you up inside

when you break, he is slightly taken aback but is quick to comfort you

he sees you shaking and situates you on his couch as he sits beside you, rubbing your back as you curl into his figure

he's very warm

"sweetheart, would you mind telling me the problem?" he asks

he waits for an answer as you're still trying to find the words

"diluc, i'm sorry for bothering you.. i know you have plenty on your schedule and-”

"y/n, you're my top priority, no matter what. my work is nothing compared to what you mean to me."

and it's true, you're really his top priority

woohoo !! :DD

when you explain your anxieties and doubts to diluc, he's very understanding and listens to you earnestly

"-and that's why i've been so.. down, let's put it."

he strokes your face and presses his forehead to your own, looking you in the eye softly

he pulls you in tighter and closer, pressing kisses to your jawline and below your ear

"thank you for expressing your troubles with me, my love. i'm sorry for not noticing earlier."

"no need, love, you're very busy and i can't thank you enough for taking the time to understand me."

he pulls away for a second and shakes his head

"again, my work is nothing compared to you. i am willing to put aside all my responsibilities for a week in order to ensure your happiness."

uh wh a t

"ah," you laugh concerned, "sure–"

"which is what we're going to be doing this week." he smiles

welp. no turning back now

enjoy ur week with the redhead you utter s i m p

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #genshin impact kaeya #genshin kaeya #genshin impact childe #genshin childe #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #genshin impact diluc #albedo x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #albedo headcanons #kaeya headcanons #childe headcanons #zhongli headcanons #diluc headcanons #genshin diluc

[chefdoeuvre]

Aftermath

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: People always tend to forget about the aftermath.

Words: 2,122

Requested: yes by anonymous; second, if it's ok i wanted to request a part two to the imagine? i was wondering if you could just explore the aftermath of her assault, as she continues to heal and accept what's happened to her. by this i mean experiencing ptsd and having nightmares, flashbacks and dealing with certain triggers. also, maybe she could still sometimes turn to substances as many survivors do, and just break down sometimes. obviously since it's a halstead sister fic and i love the support system in the last story, i'd love to see jay helping her through everything and being super protective + some scenes with the rest of intelligence? but it's obviously up to you. thank you so much <3

Warnings: mention of drinking, sexual assault, drugs, language, PTSD, Jay Halstead and all of Intelligence being the best.

A/N: This is the long awaited part two to Infliction, and by long-awaited I mean like a month later. I tried to make the end light hearted because it seemed like a good way to go. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

It had been a few weeks since the party and things were beginning to look up. You and Brayden started hanging out more and it was safe to say the two of you were on your way to becoming best friends. The group of guys had all been arrested and sent far away from you. You, Jay, and Will have been having more frequent family movie nights instead of them heading out to Molly's every free night they got. Intelligence had basically adopted you as one of their own and even went out of their way to hang out with you. Kim and Hailey had girls nights away from the ever-annoying guys they work with. Adam and Kevin practically chauffeured you to hangouts with Brayden and took you out to your favorite diner on the weekends. Even Hank had called you once in a while as a check-in and to keep you informed about your case. Overall things seemed to be getting better for you.

Except for one little detail. Your PTSD was hitting you like a truck. Of course, the only person who even remotely knew what was happening was Brayden because he was the one person you spent most of your time with. Thankfully he was there to help ground you and calm you down when it all became too much for you. This wasn't sudden, it's been building up since it happened and clearly you needed to work on accepting it rather than shoving it all down. That's one thing you and Jay had in common, the two of you always had trouble addressing your problems no matter how big they became.

Currently, you were laying in bed and staring up at your ceiling that Jay had covered in stars for you. If there was one thing about you is that you still are a child at heart. You had been shocked awake by your recurring nightmare. It always followed the same premise of the night of the party but every night there were either different people, points of view, or different actions you took that still led you to the same outcome. There were dried tears staining your cheeks that you hadn't bothered to wipe away and every few moments there would be a soft sniffle to break the eerie silence.

Having enough of staring up at your ceiling you let out a low huff and pushed yourself up to a sitting position. You turned to the side and looked at the clock resting on your nightstand. The clock read 4:19 AM which was clearly too early for you to be up but too late for you to try and go back to sleep before Jay's rustling while getting ready would wake you up. Reaching over to open the drawer in your nightstand you checked the small bottle hidden under the glasses case that held your blue light ones. It was three-quarters full of vodka you had inconspicuously stolen from Jay's cabinet. You kept promising yourself that you wouldn't drink anymore, but clearly, that wasn't really panning out in your favor. Sure you would have a swig or two before braving yourself and heading off to school but it was to take the edge off, not to get drunk.

If Jay were to check through your drawer he'd probably think otherwise. You had stopped with the pills since he had found you, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him so you continued to drink. Obviously, it wasn't a lot and definitely not enough to get you drunk off your ass. You just wanted to be buzzed enough to have the courage to walk into your dreaded school every morning and deal with the numerous triggers you kept on discovering.

Eventually, it was time for you actually start getting ready for school. Jay had already left for work a while ago, leaving a kiss on your head before stepping out the door. You pulled on a random outfit that was comfortable and your usual pair of shoes before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and walked downstairs. Deciding against your worst judgment you made the choice to brave the day without the buzz of alcohol. Waiting at the front entrance of your building was Brayden. Like every morning the two of you would walk to school together if Jay had to go into the district early. If Jay only had paperwork that day he would drive the two of you to school instead, but that didn't happen very often.

The two of you walked to school silently, only exchanging a few words of greeting. Once you had made it to the large building you both had to split up for your classes. The day went on like usual, boring teachers droning on about upcoming assignments and tests. Lunch had arrived after what seemed like forever and you sat at an empty table practically half asleep. You held your head in your hand as you kept your eyes from slipping shut at the exhaustion.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of your classmates from English asked as he passed by.

You froze at the familiar words before shaking yourself out of the memory.

"Fine, just tired." You brushed off their comment as he nodded with an understanding smile before continuing to his table.

Moments later the door opened and you picked your head up reluctantly. It was a few guys on the football team.

"You not feeling too hot there?" One of the seniors asked you.

You simply shook your head which only worsened the pain in it. The boys walked a few steps closer before placing their hands on your shoulders. They shoved you back onto the bed and immediately your body began to react.

You kicked and punched aimlessly to get them off of you but your movements were uncoordinated and your mind was foggy. There were too many of them and they began to overpower you, their hands wandering to unwanted places.

“Y/N?” Brayden’s voice pulled you out of the flashback.

“Huh?” Your teary eyes darted around his face before focusing on his concerned expression.

“Let’s head to the library, all right?” Brayden suggested already standing up from his seat across from you.

You nodded silently before hiking your bag over your shoulder and walked to the library beside him. Luckily at your school, they were lenient enough to let you head to the library during lunch. Usually, the kids didn’t take advantage of it but it was an unspoken spot of peace for you and Brayden.

The two of you sat at a table near the back and Brayden pulled a chair up beside you.

“Want to talk about what happened back at lunch?” Brayden asked softly.

You bit your lip in contemplation. This had been happening for weeks and every time you’d shake your head and change the subject. But the fact was it wasn’t getting better and you just needed to tell somebody that you weren’t okay. A few tears slipped out of your eyes which led to quiet sobs escaping from your lips. Brayden offered you a hug with outstretched arms, making sure to check if you were okay with it. You leaned forward into his embrace and squeezed his waist tightly. He held you there while rubbing soothing circles on your back until your cries stopped. You lifted your head off his chest and wiped away the remained tears on your cheeks before speaking up.

“Uh, flashbacks. I’ve been getting them for a while. I thought they’d go away, but they haven’t.” You explained with a sigh, avoiding his gaze and instead taking interest in your hands.

“Okay first, if they happen again tell me, or pull on my sleeve and I’ll get you somewhere quiet. Got it?” Brayden bent his head to try and get into your eye line.

You nodded your head with a hum before he spoke up again, “since they haven’t gone away maybe you should talk to someone. Preferably a professional, but if you’re only comfortable telling me then I’m all ears. Although, I’m not sure that I can cure you with magic, wish I could though.” Brayden tried to lighten the mood with his magic comment.

“Thanks, Brayden. Jay actually has been bugging me about seeing a therapist. Said it helped him with his PTSD, I think I might take him up on it.” You looked up at the boy with pursed lips.

“That’s good. Just know we’re not trying to force you into anything, we just want you to feel better however long that may take.” Brayden gave you a soft smile.

“You are wise beyond your years, you know that?” You smiled back with a small laugh.

“I try, I try.” Brayden shrugged nonchalantly.

“Can you come with me to the district after school?” You asked cautiously.

“Of course, not like I’d rather do my homework.” Brayden laughed.

“And there’s the Brayden I know.” You smiled widely.

Soon enough you and Brayden had been making your way to the twenty-first district to talk with Jay and probably the rest of Intelligence. The air was lighter between the two of you once you had finally started to open up. Of course, you hadn’t spilled everything but the little you had told him made the weight on your shoulders lessen slightly.

“Ah, baby Halstead and company, what brings you here?” Trudy greeted from the front desk with a tight-lipped smile. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she had a soft spot for you.

“Can you ring us upstairs? I need to talk with Jay.” You asked.

“You’re lucky they haven’t caught a case today.” Trudy walked out from behind her desk and led you and Brayden upstairs.

“Thank you, Trudy.” You smiled and followed the woman.

“I have a special delivery for Detective Chuckles.” Trudy spoke up once the three of you reached the top of the steps.

Jay’s head snapped up from his desk with a look of confusion when his eyes landed on you. He quickly stood up and scanned you over for anything.

“What happened, are you all right?” Jay cupped your cheek in concern before sparing a glance at Brayden for any sign of something bad.

“I’m okay, I just needed to talk to you.” You reassured him.

“All right. You wanna head into the kitchen?” Jay asked.

“No, we could talk at your desk. They’re all gonna find out anyway.” You gestured to the rest of the unit who was watching the two of you intently.

Jay nodded his head and led you to his desk. You reached out and held onto Brayden’s arm as you pulled him along to take a seat and sit beside you. Of course, at this, the entire unit had gathered around with concerned faces once you started to explain to them. Jay’s expression was held with soft eyes as he listened to you agree with wanting to try therapy and asking for help.

Once you were done Jay stood up and placed a kiss on the top of your head before whispering into your hair, “I’m proud of you.” Jay pulled away to give you a warm smile.

“All right come here you little muffin.” Kim held out her arms with a smile.

You stepped forward into her embrace as she squeezed you tightly, she rocked the two of you from side to side eliciting a small giggle out of you. Hailey joined the hug with a laugh once Kim pulled her by the arm.

Antonio placed a hand on your shoulder once you, Hailey, and Kim pulled away, “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He offered you a kind nod.

“So proud.” Kevin gave you one of his signature bear hugs.

“Okay, it’s my turn.” Adam squeezed his way to stand in front of you. Which caused everyone to laugh at his eagerness.

“I could never forget about you, Ruz.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he lifted your toes off the ground.

“Are we done yet? You guys are treating my sister like an attraction.” Jay sassed.

“You’re just mad that you only got to kiss me on the head and not a hug.” You retorted from leaning back into Brayden with a smirk.

“No, not true.” Jay shook his head with furrowed brows.

“Yup, totally jealous.” You nodded convinced.

“How did we go from a serious topic to Halstead and mini Halstead having a sarcasm battle?” Adam questioned with a confused expression.

“I learned to stop questioning it.” Brayden shrugged from behind you.

“It’s how we cope. Halstead thing, I guess.” You said with raised brows.

“Fair enough.” Jay sighed.

#chicago pd fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #request #one shot #one chicago #one chicago fanfiction #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x sister!reader #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead

[alexthefly]

So, I finally watched the 2004 Thunderbirds movie, and I have some thoughts...

First of all, this is completely, entirely, 100% @uniwolfcorn's fault.

Secondly, yes it's true. Never watched it. Not even accidentally.

Until now.

Come with me on this journey and listen to my insane ramblings...

- So this is a nice little credits sequen-

- JONATHAN FREAKIN' FRAKES?!?! You're telling me this movie was directed by Commander William Riker?!

- This teacher is giving me Colonel Casey vibes...

- How did this reporter lady get to the oil rig before the boys did?

- Okay, Fermat is adorable and I would die for him. ❤️

- So, our first look at the Thunderbirds in action...

... ::adjusts brightness settings:: ...Nope, still nothing...

- What did they do to FAB1? It's gone from classy machine with classic lines to a goddamn bubble car!

- "Try not to run over any children, Parker." Gee, thanks for that M'lady, I was just h'about to plow h'into them like they was bowling pins(!)

:SNORT:

- Wait, that's not...Fuse, is it?

- Ah, finally a decent look at the 'birds: hmmm, One looks pretty good, but Two seems a bit...Flight of the Navigator?

- Hmmm, perhaps TAG has spoiled me with all the lovely brotherly cuteness, 'cos this dinner scene is not it. Movie Jeff is a big improvement on TOS though.

- Alan, I know you're upset, but you let Fermat finish his dinner goddammit!

- Yay John! Oh, this scene is just gorgeous! John the agony aunt and voice of reason, Jeff worrying about his sons and talking to them like a dad instead of just a commander... It's just so damn wholesome. ::chef kiss::

- Thunderbird Five actually looks pretty goo- ...Aaand they blew it up. 😱 John!!!

- Five: ::floating around in bits::

- "So this is Mount Olympus, and these are the Thunderbirds..." Oof. Mixing your mythologies there, Hood.

- "Like a puppet on a string." ::Sobs in meta::

- Hood: [resumes monologuing]

- Wait, that reporter got to the scene again? In Singapore? *Checks notes* Wasn't she in Russia?

- "Don't you think Tintin is blossoming?" 😳 #cringe

- First question from Jeff is whether the kids are safe, and be still my heart!

- Hoverbikes!!!

- Alan's being a reckless idiot and OH NO YOU DID NOT JUST MOCK MY ANGEL'S STUTTER!!!

- This chase sequence is...oof. Was it always bad, or is it just the naughties CGI shining through?

- UnFuse coming in strong with the evil laugh there...

- Again, brotherly dynamics here is...off: Scott losing hope, Gordon being a condescending knob? Uh-uh. Nope.

- Jeff: "He's a Tracy." 🤍🤍🤍

- Parker is an absolute treasure and I love him.

- Penny, stop quipping and spinning like a top; just kick her in the face!

- "Don't go to sleep." 😭😭😭😭😭

- "We've got to be quick; the Hood is getting away." ...Aaaand your father and brothers? Remember them? Suffocating in space?

- ::gasp:: Two is launching! Cannot wait for this!!

- Bra jokes. 🙄😩 This whole last ten minutes has been a hard steer off the edge of a cliff, quality-wise. Not happy...

- WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE HAVE THEY DONE TO HER UNDERCARRIAGE?!?!?! HOW DARE?!?!?!

- OK, Brains yelling Jeff awake makes everything better! 👓😁 Very very silly but I am here for it.

- That little nod between John and Jeff is everything. 🥰

- ...I see Lady P found time to change outfits during this very urgent and time-sensitive crisis.

- Ah, the obligatory product placement for... Wall's Ice Cream? 😶 Huh.

- The same bloody reporter's in London now!! Seriously, it's been what, a couple of hours tops! Did the studio spring for a bloody TARDIS?

- Accident Zone? Accident Zone?! Firstly, it's clearly not an accident, and secondly, 🔥😡🤬🔥

- Thunderbird Four! ... ::resumes squinting::

- That steering mechanism is going to play murder on their elbows... That said, this rescue sequence is kinda fun.

- The boys cheering and whooping for Alan and Tintin made my heart sing! Why wasn't there more of this earlier?

- Did Lady P get changed AGAIN?!

- And apparently she also forgot all the cool martial arts she knew half an hour ago...

- Aww, Jeff and Alan having a moment. ❤️🤍

- Mr Scriptwriter, if you need a character to be kept alive when by all logic the bad guys should kill her, don't bring that fact up and then leave it totally unresolved! You don't need to start pointing the movie's flaws out to us - we can see them.

- Parker and Fermat my beloveds!

- Veering between awful bits and lovely bits is starting to give me whiplash...

- 🤣😂🤣 The Hood's gone full M Bison! 🤣

- Jeff displaying genuine fear for Alan's safety is giving me life right now.

- "I don't want to save your life, but it's what we do." ::bounces excitedly:: Grandma and Scott said it better in TAG, but the sentiment is the same and I'm thrilled!

- "See you soon, Jeff." Did they...did they think there was going to be a sequel?! Bless their hearts.

- The boys are all dicking about in the pool together and everything is right with the world. ☺️🥰

- See? I knew that "blossoming" thing was creepy!!

- I'm not going to mention John's mutant healing abilities. Not at all. Nope.

- They ALL get to be Thunderbirds? Fermat my baby!!

...You and me both, Parker. 🥲

- Pink pedalo. Because reasons. Apparently.

- 🎶YOU KNOW THE LID'S ABOUT TO BLOW, WHEN THE THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO! 🎵

FINAL THOUGHTS

It absolutely had its flaws but honestly? Not even close to as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps in 2004 I would have been mad, but today, knowing that TAG exists and fixed so much of what went wrong here, I can dig it. 👍

#most verbose #I enjoyed it really #mostly #thunderbirds 2004 #Alex watches stuff

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. V

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Think I should get my own flat." You said as you lied on Farrah's bed, looking at her ceiling that had scattered glow-in-dark stars.

"Like in secret? Out of the palace?" She asked, glancing at you then looking back at her laptop.

You hummed in confirmation. "Think I can do that?"

"If it were hypothetical, yes,” Farrah answered, looking at you. "It's unsafe given your status, no matter how much you deny it so if your family knows, it won't be pretty, and I know for sure it’s not easy.” "What if-" You sat up quickly, crossing your legs and looking at her with mischievous wide eyes. "What if I give it all up?"

"Give what up?" She asked slowly, looking at you warily.

"The status. What if I give up on royalty? Step down and live as some normal girl who's good in her work and owns her own flat? I don't have to marry F-"

"Y/N, you really need to sleep." She sighed, closing her laptop and putting it on her bedside table.

You sighed, lying on your back and pulling the cover closer to your chin. "I hope that's the case."

"Anyway, whatever you do, you know I'll support you, even if you end up living with me."

You smiled, snuggling into Farrah's cover, "You're an alright best friend."

"And you're a bitch. Goodnight, your Highness." She chuckled before rolling over and letting her back face you.

"Goodnight, peasant."

--

"Em, call them and tell them that we'll do what we talked about in the meeting and have their social media specialist start tomorrow. Has David called?" You asked your assistant as you both walk in a fast pace inside the palace, Kensington.

"He did. He said that we raised 2 million, we exceeded the target." She informed you.

You nodded, stopping in front of your flat door. "Good. Can you please schedule a meeting for tomorrow with Healing for The Future? We need to discuss the plan and start working as soon as possible."

She nodded, writing on her iPhone as you talked. "Consider it done."

"Thank you, Em. And sorry for keeping you busy till now," you smiled at her gratefully before checking your watch, "It's almost 11."

"It's my job. It's not like I don't enjoy it." Emelie assured you with a smile of hers. "Now you have a goodnight. You've been awake since 4 in the morning."

You nodded, both of you leaning to kiss each other's cheek. "Goodnight, Em."

Emelie walked off, making you turn and enter your quiet flat. You nodded at the two guards standing on your door before going inside, smiling and wishing them a goodnight.

Right as you were about to take off your shoes, a knock on your door made your move halt for a second before you granted permission to whoever was on the other side. In came one of the ladies-in-waiting, Pattie. "Your Highness?"

"Yes, Pattie? Is everything alright?"

She nodded, "Her Majesty is in His Highness Prince William's flat and requested to see you."

"Oh, she's here?" You furrow your eyebrows before standing. "Okay. Thank you, Pattie. You can sleep or do whatever you want. It's a quiet night for me." You smiled at her.

Pattie smiled back, bending her knees in a slight curtsy, "Thank you, Your Highness."

Walking to your brother's flat, you greeted the guards at the door before a maid informed you that “they were all in the drawing room.” Thinking nothing of it, you pulled out your phone as you walked towards it, opening yours and your siblings’ group chat.

Henry💂🏻‍♂️: why on earth is he here? Wills👴🏻: I honestly don't know... Wills👴🏻: Y/N, I'd advise you to not come before 11

It was too late.

Your eyebrows which were furrowed in confusion at the texts and the frown fell once you walked inside the drawing room and looked up, seeming as if the air had been knocked out of you.

"Y/N, you're here! Fred was just telling us about his last polo match." Your grandmother smiled, patting the spot next to her.

You glanced at your siblings, Kate, and your grandfather who gave you sympathetic looks before your eyes moved to the moving man who was approaching you with a smile on his face.

"It's incredible to see you, Your Highness." Fred said gently, offering his hand.

You snapped out of it and put your hand in his, watching as he kissed it, "Lovely to see you, too.”

Fred motioned for you to walk inside, walking behind you as you sat on the sofa beside your grandmother, deeply breathing as you tried to remain calm.

"Prince Fred has a gift for you, Y/N."

"Ah, yes!" He chuckled nervously, holding a rectangular velvet green box from the table before approaching you. "I know you love emerald," he spoke gently, opening the box for you.

Your eyebrows were furrowed and a frown was set on your face as you stared at the necklace with an emerald gemstone. "Uh," you let out a small chuckle before looking at him. "May I ask what's the occasion?"

"Just a kickstart for what's there to come."

You nodded slowly, straightening your posture as your eyes went back to his face, "That's a lot for just a kickstart."

You heard your brothers snicker from behind Fred, watching as he gave you a small shrug. "It's okay if you don't want to accept it. I'd understand. I asked my mother and she told me it'd be a good idea, honestly." Fred chuckled, glancing from you to the necklace in his hands, almost as if he'd never seen it.

You glanced at your grandmother who gave you a pointed look, almost as if she was holding back a scream that said "take it!"

You stood up, taking a breath and reluctantly nodded, "It's okay, I-," You gulped, an uneasy smile coming to your face, "I'll take it. Thank you."

Fred smiled, "Want help wearin-"

"No!" You instantly replied, hand coming up to graze the teardrop pendant of your necklace around your neck. "I mean," you looked at him, slightly wide eyed, "I'm going to sleep now so it's not really a convenient time to wear it."

He cleared his throat and nodded, stepping back with an arm behind his back, "I understand."

“Y/N, you said you're going to sleep. Can I come with you for a second? I left Louis' bib at your flat the last time." William said, standing up.

Despite knowing that he was coming up with an excuse for you to leave, you went along. "Oh, right. I was meaning to get it but I forgot. Anyway," With the green box in your hand, you walked towards the door with your brother following you before you turned to look at the rest, "Have a goodnight." And with that, you and William were out of the door and walking towards your own flat.

"Show me." He opened his palm, making you rest the box there. "Not bad, huh?"

"Poor lad looked like he was forced to do this." You spoke your mind, hand finding its way to your hair.

"Just like you felt you were forced to accept it?" Will replied almost instantly.

You shrugged, "It'd be very rude of me to just not accept it. He'd look like a fool."

"And why do you care?"

"Because just because I don't see myself with him, doesn't mean I'll make him feel less about himself and treat him like a doormat. I have a feeling he's forced into this like I am." You sighed, walking down the stairs.

"When did you become so wise?" Will chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "How's Romeo?"

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. "He's fine. He's in Berlin."

"Busy lad, huh?"

You nodded, "Very. Makes time to call me though."

Will smiled, giving your shoulder a squeeze. "That's good to hear."

As you reached your flat and opened the door, you turned to look at your brother, "You can stay for some tea." You suggested.

"No, it's alright. I'll head back to them. You have a good night sleep, alright?" He leaned down pressing peck to your forehead.

You nodded, smiling sleepily at him. "Goodnight, Wills."

Getting into your bed after a long day was what you looked forward on busy days, and it was the reason behind the sigh that left your lips as you had gotten under the covers.

Right as you were about to lock your phone, the screen changed from your wallpaper of you, Charlotte and George lying on the grass as you laughed – a picture Kate had taken from above months ago and it had been your favourite – to an incoming call from none other than the man who gave you zoos erupting in your stomach; Harry.

You smiled, accepting it. "Hello?"

"Hey, love," His voice alone was enough to have you already blushing. "Are you done with the day?"

You hummed, "It was a long, tiring day."

"Want to tell me about it?"

And so, you did. You told him all about your day, meetings and your scheduled plans, leaving out the part where you saw Fred.

And he told you about his show and how he was on his way to travel to Amsterdam.

"Did you wear that suit you showed me?" You asked him, lying on your back.

"Yeah, I did," He replied, "I'm going to send you two suits for tomorrow's show, choose one of them for me, please?"

You grinned, "Of course."

"Alright, I'm going to let you sleep now. Uh, Y/N?"

You hummed.

Harry chuckled slightly and almost nervously before it got quiet for a second. "I miss you,"

You grinned to yourself, feeling your heart thump in your chest at the simple 3 words.

"Feel like I want to see you already. Think-" He stopped, "Think it's your kisses. You're very, very...kissable."

You let out a small laugh, one hand moving to cover your face as the other clutched the phone tightly to your ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I miss you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

#the royal series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 3: Grocery Gathering

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/58625389

@alexalexisalexej

I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope y’all enjoy!

It had been a little over a week since Remus made the croissants, and the daily routines still hadn’t quite recovered. At breakfast, Virgil showed up ten minutes later than usual, and stood nervously in the doorway, checking to make sure nobody unexpected would be in the kitchen. Roman never came to visit the kitchen, but Patton brought him meals three times a day— 9:30 am, 1:20 pm, and 5:50 pm. Virgil would occasionally join him. 

Patton and Janus still met for tea every single day, but they never stayed in the kitchen anymore. Patton would ask Janus to take walks with him. They’d stroll through Roman’s side of the imagination, then drink their tea and talk. The only reason Logan knew this was because Patton brought it up at dinner one night. Virgil left shortly after. 

The only people who remained unaffected were Remus and him. They kept to their usual schedules. Except now Logan found himself staying up late to talk to Remus while he cooked. He had yet to make paella— something about wanting to save it for a special occasion.

Every day felt like a special occasion. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the charts he had made, one pre-Remus, and one post-Remus. Color coded and organized. Pristine.

“It’s surprising,” Logan had said at breakfast that morning, eating some waffles Patton had made, “that Remus spending one day in the kitchen threw all of our schedules into chaos.”

Virgil glared at him silently. Patton stared down blankly at his waffles.

“I don’t like him,” Patton murmured.

“You seem to get along with Deceit just fine,” Virgil spat, lip twitching in silent anger. Patton sighed.

“His name is Janus, Virgil. Be polite.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because it’s rude to call him Deceit— Logan, how would you feel if we only called you Logic?”

Logan sat straight. If he said he didn’t care, that would be mostly honest. If he said he did care, that would make it seem he had some sort of emotional attachment to his name. He swallowed.

“I don’t care either way. However, Janus now seems to prefer we address him by his real name. Besides, deceit is not his only function.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staring angrily down at his plate of waffles. That was the end of the conversation at the breakfast table. Logan ate in silence, slowly sipping water out of a glass with a lemon on the rim. 

Now, he sat at his desk. The clock said it was 2:28 pm. The kitchen would be perfectly empty, since Virgil and Patton no longer had their little talks in the kitchen. Logan didn’t know where they went, and he didn’t care to ask. Of course he worried about them, but he didn’t think where they talked mattered so much. He set down his pen, thinking of when Roman had run from the kitchen in horror, Remus doing nothing but sitting at the table.

Suddenly, someone knocked at his door. Logan stood from his comfortable office chair, and walked to the door. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair down before calmly opening it. That calm facade almost broke when he saw Remus on the other side, wearing a painfully bright yellow bucket hat, a fishnet shirt, and a green pair of cargo shorts. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Remus.”

“You remember how you said I should make paella? Well I thought real long and hard and I thought that you could not only help me with the cooking but you could also help me with gathering the shit that goes in it! Like clams and mussels. One recipe says squid but I’ve honestly never cooked with squid and I’m not interested in fucking with that.”

Logan blinked, slowly trying to take in the information, and the sight of Remus before him. Remus never came to his room. Nobody did. It seemed like there had been an unspoken rule made, that he was never to be interrupted. Now the matter at hand.

“You want me to accompany you in collecting the ingredients?”

Remus nodded violently, causing the bright hat to flop off his head. He picked it up, and put it back on. Logan blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And this involves going under the water?”

“No shit Sherlock! That’s where the mussels are! Unless you count these guns—“ Remus flexed his arms, a stunning smile on his face. Logan looked at the bag he carried, then to the yellow hat on his head.

“I think it would be best if you changed into something more… sensible.”

Remus wagged his brows, leaning up against the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m wearing a speedo under these shorts.”

“I meant the hat. It will make you very, very visible.”

“It’s okay,” Remus rebutted, “I think fish are colorblind. Maybe. Do you know?”

Logan gnawed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say so, that would be seen as weakness. But Remus was… different, somehow, uncaring about strength and weakness. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know,” Logan responded, “most fish only see two colors, but I’m unsure how many can see yellow. However, if your plans are to go underwater, it would be wise to forgo the hat.”

Remus shrugged, took off his hat, and tossed it into Logan’s room. It landed on the neat sheets of his bed.

“We won’t be in the water the whole time,” Remus said, “we still have to get other things? Like, erm, I don’t have the recipe on me but we’re almost out of apples, and honey— honey will be a bitch to get but you know what I have?”

Logan furrowed his brows, staring at the bag.

“A beekeeping suit, a smoker, and an apiary of some sort?”

“Nope! Just my morning star and overwhelming hubris!”

Logan didn't know what he’d expected. Of course Remus wouldn’t go about getting honey in any sort of logical way. 

“There are other things we will need.”

“You have a special request?”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t. But paella requires saffron,” Logan explained. “Saffron is derived from the stigma of Crocus sativus.”

“Huh? What’s uh….” Remus trailed off, snapping his fingers a few times. “What’s the common name of that?”

“They are also known as autumn crocus, or saffron crocus. Do you know where these flowers grow?”

Remus raised his eyebrows, tapping his fingers to one another— thumb to index, thumb to middle, thumb to ring, thumb to pinkie. 

“Lemme think… I have a spice garden in my side, but I didn’t know that saffron came from a fucking flower! But I do have a bit of land I could… flowers. Goddamn! Saffron from flowers! That’s pretty cool! I have to ask— how did people think of putting it on shit?”

Logan suppressed a smile as Remus flapped one of his hands a little. It felt nice, being asked harmless questions, not being interrupted. Even then, he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for Remus to tell him to shut up. He took a deep breath.

“It is commonly believed that saffron originated in Greece, however most of it is grown in Iran, I believe.” He paused, giving Remus ample time to say something. Instead, Remus waved his hand at him.

“Well? Go on.” 

Logan shifted from foot to foot.

“Saffron is incredibly expensive due to the fact that one flower only produces three strands when it blooms, and the flowers only bloom for one week each year. Saffron has been used and cultivated by humans for more than three thousand and five hundred years, and has been used not only as a seasoning, but also as a dye, fragrance, and medicine.”

Remus grinned, eyebrows raised. 

“Cocaine used to be used as a medicine! Freud diagnosed it to some of his patients for depression, I think! Did you know that cocaine, like meth, can cause people to hallucinate vermin crawling under their skin? And they’ll scratch at their skins to get them out!”

“Ah, yes, delusional parasitosis, also called formication.”

“Fornication?”

Logan shook his head.

“I doubt formication and fornication could be mistaken for one another, unless ones idea of fornication is subdermal penetration.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me!” Remus cried, rolling his shoulders. Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a small smile, but turned his expression back to a straight face as quickly as he could. 

“So what are you looking to retrieve?” Logan asked. Remus reached into one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He dramatically unfolded it.

“Apples, honey, saffron, I guess, and mussels and clams and whatever else we may find. So is that a yes?”

Logan paused for a moment. He’d been to Roman’s side of the imagination, and the land was bright and beautiful, filled with fantastical creatures and lush landscapes. However, Remus was the opposite of Roman, or at least the bits of creativity that Thomas considered unpleasant enough to purge from his consciousness. So what did that include? The horrifying, the macabre, and the explicit. Dicks, drugs, and the disturbing. None of it could hurt him. And judging by the fact Remus sought him out to come with him, he wouldn’t even be threatened. As long as he was cautious, he would remain unharmed during their journey. That was reasonable enough to assume.

 But what about the others? He would be expected back at dinner, which was at five pm. That would only give him two and a half hours with Remus, and time seemed to go much faster while around him, probably something to do with how Remus’ nature distorted reality around him, that reality including the way one would perceive time passing. Logan looked into his room. If he left the door closed, the others wouldn’t bother him. Patton would leave dinner outside of his door, he’d done it before, many times, but he wouldn’t come in. So he could miss dinner. If they asked questions, he could say he was busy. And they’d believe him.

Logan stared at the yellow bucket hat, garish and blinding on top of his sheets. He swallowed.

“Yes, I will accompany you.”

Remus flapped his hands expressively, smiling like a million and a half suns. He hopped from foot to foot, then did a little spin. 

“Fuck yeah! I’ll let you get changed, meet me in the kitchen as soon as possible! It’ll be so much fun!”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to tell Remus he would be wearing his usual clothing, Remus sprinted away. He let out a deep sigh. He wore his usual outfit— black dress pants, a black polo, indigo tie, dress shoes. Comfortable and professional. If he were to open his closet, there would be exact clones of the exact same outfit. Of course there was always the clothing he wore on Halloween, but a bulky, velveteen coat would be even less practical. The Sherlock costume would be out of the question, and he’d long since gotten rid of his onesie. 

So that left him in his typical outfit. However, the tie around his throat could possibly get caught and damaged. Logan touched his striped indigo tie, and slowly loosened it. Halfway through doing so, he realized he would look like an absolute fool without his tie. Even to Remus. Logan pulled the tie tight, so tight it almost choked him, and walked out of his room, slowly shutting the door behind him.

Logan silently crept through the hallway then down the stairs, making sure to skip the one squeaky step. If Virgil caught him with Remus, willingly spending time with him… well, he didn’t know how he would react. Virgil hated him, saw him as a nuisance, and there certainly was some history between the two of them. He had no clue what, despite the fact Virgil had once been a ‘dark’ side. 

He stepped into the kitchen. Remus sat on the table, kicking his legs back and forth. Somehow, even wearing those ridiculous clothes, he looked like he belonged in the kitchen. Logan pushed his glasses up. Remus smiled at him, hopping off of the table and grabbing his arm in a tight grip. His hands felt burning hot.

“Are you ready to go?”

Was he? If the others—

“—Yes, I am.”

Remus tugged on his arm, and they both sunk down into the white tile of the kitchen floor.

A gust of warm, sweet air hit him in the face. Logan gasped at the sensation, staggering backwards. He tripped on a stone, and landed on his ass in tall grass. All around them grew wildflowers and grass, and the clouds gently danced in the sky. The flowers swayed in the wind, blossoms of all hues growing around them. Truly, a beautiful landscape. Strange.

“Is this your side of the imagination?” Logan asked, ignoring Remus’ offered hand in favor of standing up by himself. 

“Yup! Wild and uncivilized. I had an idea for a monster— it’s an intelligent being that’s made of fungi that connects to the roots of plants, like how a brain makes neuron paths! Earth brain! We’re currently standing upon the brain of the smartest being in the imagination! Well, except for you, now that you’re here.”

Logan nervously looked down at his feet, face flushed. He really didn’t want to ask what the thing looked like, but his curiosity begged him to. His ego, meanwhile, preened at the small praise.

“Does it have a body?” Logan asked, “does it need to feed?”

“Yes to both questions!” Remus proclaimed, “The body is like. Laying down sort of? It’s like a big, smart pancake! And it eats! Don’t worry, it won’t eat us. Or any other side. Or cows since it’s lactose intolerant. But it won’t eat any sentient beings, like us sides! Except for Roman and his creations of course.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why only him?”

Remus twirled around, then pointed off into the distance. Logan looked to where he was pointing, and there in the horizon he spotted a massive palace, one he immediately recognized as belonging to Roman.. 

Remus opened his mouth, then suddenly shut it, a manic smile splitting his face. 

“Look, here comes a unicorn! Oh, you’ll love this.”

And just as Remus had said, a white stallion with a gleaming horn pranced into the field of flowers. It wandered forward, then bent down and started to graze. As it opened its mouth to take a bite, the plants suddenly burst to life, wrapping around the unicorn. It fought and kicked as the thick grass dragged it to the ground— no, into the ground, as if the prairie earth had turned into quicksand. The unicorn whinnied and thrashed, until it was pulled fully under the ground, horn disappearing in the thick foliage. 

“It absorbs its prey, like a protist.” Logan said breathlessly. If he could feel, he wouldn’t know if he felt shocked or impressed. 

“Yeah! This land, in like a mile wide stripe, is the border between my land and Roman’s. And I don’t want anything to do with his shit. So anything that comes over here gets chomped up by Bartholomew!”

“Bartholomew?” Logan asked.

Remus crouched, patting the ground. He flopped onto his front, pressing a little kiss to the earth.

“It goes by Bart for short. And don’t worry, we had a conversation and it’s fine with it/its pronouns. Anyways what should we get first?”

Logan stared at the earth, shifting from foot to foot. Thousands of questions were bubbling in his head, but Remus had brought him to gather ingredients, not to ask questions. 

“Apples,” he croaked out. Remus leapt to his feet, looking him in the eye.

“I said it won’t absorb you. It only eats Roman and Roman’s shit. And even if you did get eaten, you’d be able to sink out. You’re safe.”

Logan inhaled slowly, then let out a deep breath. He didn’t care if he was safe. He wanted to ask how Bartholomew dissolved its prey, what acid it used to break down prey, he wanted to ask about the ph of the soil—

“Let’s go get the apples,” Logan insisted.

Remus nodded.

“The orchard is like, ten miles away? I don’t know but I can teleport us. Will it make you puke? Since Jannie told me that when he and Patton were in the imagination they saw Roman and Roman teleported them away from him and then Patton puked his guts up!”

“I don’t puke,” Logan explained, “I’m not human, and I can’t pretend to be.”

“You are a part of a human. Anyways, let’s go!”

Remus grabbed his arm, and the world shifted around them, the ground fell out from under his feet— for an instant, he felt like he was flying and falling all at the same time.

Then the ground appeared again. Logan stumbled. The sun was filtered through the branches of tall trees, taller than any apple tree he’d seen. The ground felt hard, and thorny bushes grew between each massive tree. Strangely enough, even though the air felt warm, the branches had no leaves, as if winter was coming. Logan looked down at his feet. The earth was covered in a layer of frost. He crouched down and touched it, and his fingers brushed coarse weeds and warm frost.

“This is fascinating,” Logan said. He scooped a little bit of frost into his hand. It didn’t melt. 

“How so?”

“Where do I start? The trees— they’re far too tall to be apple trees, yet they still bear fruit. And they have no leaves, which raises the question of how they perform photosynthesis. Not only that but the ground is covered in frost, and the frost is warm. The frost is warm, but it also doesn’t melt in my touch. Truly fascinating.”

Remus flicked his wrist, and a red apple the size of a fist fell into his palm.

“I like the way that frost looks, but I fucking hate the cold! So I made this place! And the branches are high so I can climb them and see out above the entirety of the land! But if you take issue with the height of the trees…”

Remus took a bite of the apple. He stomped his foot. Suddenly, one of the trees shrank, smaller and smaller, until it was the size of an actual apple tree. Ripe, beautiful apples hung off the branches.

“There,” Remus said, “that should be low enough for you to reach.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Logan said, “do you have something to keep the apples in?”

Remus reached into the bag, and pulled out a wicker basket. Logan almost asked how he managed to do that, but realized it would be pointless. This was Remus’ land, it ran by his rules.

“I have a question!” Remus proclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Logan said, silently glad Remus had gone back to asking questions.

“Why are you so touchy about shapeshifting? Like. You never do it. I mean when the cameras aren’t rolling. You look exactly like Thomas and you never change it up!”

Logan froze. He pulled an apple from one of the branches and set it carefully in the basket.

“Patton is emotionally unstable. Virgil is a ticking time bomb. Roman tends to prioritize fantastical ideals over reality. Janus is level headed, but Thomas only just accepted him. And I’m unsure if he’ll ever accept you.”

Remus took another big bite of the apple.

“And what does this have to do with you not shapeshifting?”

Logan sighed.

“Thomas needs someone to be steady. Someone for him to rely on and trust no matter what the situation is. I don’t want to lose his trust.”

Remus giggled. Logan picked another apple.

“He trusts Patton even when he’s a fucking puppet. It’s not about trust, is it?”

Logan set the apple down in his basket.

“How many of these do we need?”

“Fuck if I know, fill the basket. But if it’s not about trust, then what is it about?”

Logan picked an apple, staring at the deep red color. He rubbed it against his polo, and he could see his reflection.

“Thomas hasn’t been listening to me as much as he should. I’m hoping that if I maintain the same appearance as him, he’ll be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

Logan stared at the apple. He shouldn’t be here. If the others found out he’d spent so much time with Remus, then what would they think of him? Would they consider him a friend anymore? That plus the fact he was picking apples, something they didn’t even need to do because they could be summoned with the snap of a finger. He didn’t need to eat. Logan set the apple in his basket.

Remus hummed. He flicked his wrist again, and apples began to rain from the sky. They struck the ground hard enough to bruise, and the noise they made was thunderous.

“Do you think the apple rain helps or diminishes the experience of apple picking?”

Logan stared up at the sky— cloudy, with a chance of apples.

“I don’t think catching apples in a basket counts as picking.”

“But it does count as fun!” Remus insisted.

“It’s not very effective.”

“Really now? Watch this!”

Remus pulled another wicker basket from the bag, and held it above his head. One, two, three apples hit the basket hard. The fourth made a sickening crunch as it hit the basket, and Logan flinched.

“What was that?”

“Some of the apples have bones!”

Logan furrowed his brows, looking at Remus. Another apple fell into his basket, thankfully lacking the crunching.

“An odd feature for an apple to have. What are the purpose of the bones? Structural stability? Do the bones assist in reproduction?”

“None of that!” Remus responded, “I just like the crunch! And Jannie likes the extra calcium!”

Logan nodded. Somehow, the fact that nothing made sense was logical. This was Remus’ land, it obeyed him. He plucked another apple from the tree.

“You know, Logan,” Remus said after a moment,  basket held over his head, “I think you’re Eve.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Remus shrugged. Another apple landed in the basket with a crunch.

“Well, you see, Eve ate the apple from the forbidden tree, because she wanted to know the difference between good and evil, she wanted to see like god. In all honesty, I don’t think she was tricked. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was getting into. She was just scared to be held liable. She was scared of the judgement.”

Logan plucked another apple from the tree. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. What Remus was saying made no sense. If God had dropped him in the garden and told him to not eat the apple, he would’ve followed the rules. And he certainly feared no judgement. Certainly.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? So you would have rather stayed ignorant? Unharmed by what you don’t know?”

Logan froze. Remus continued talking.

“I remember Janus told me you really went off at him when he suggested that ignorance is bliss. So, I think you’re just like Eve. I mean, would you give up peace for knowledge?”

Logan plucked another apple. Of course he would. What he wanted more than anything was a life full of books and reading, knowing everything there was to know. Being an academic.

“That isn’t my choice to make. Thomas has chosen his path in life.”

“But what if it was your choice? Then what would you do?”

Logan picked another apple. The basket was close to full.

“I would choose knowledge. I have told you what I would do as a human, I would pursue knowledge above all. I wouldn’t be able to stop my pursuit. I would never be satisfied.”

Remus snapped his fingers, and the apple rain stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. Proverbs 1, verse 20.  You’d never be able to stop learning once you started. Which I think is pretty cool!” Remus looked him dead in the eye, lowering his basket from his head. “You’re a passionate guy, Lo. Show it. I liked hearing you talk about saffron. And if they won’t listen? Then—“

“Then make them listen. Yes. You said it before.” Logan sighed. “I must admit, I don’t think I would be able to. Once they see me as a joke, it’s over. I’m only listened to when I’m being used to counter something that inhibits Virgil and Patton. For example, when you and Janus first appeared. I… I think we have enough apples.”

Remus took his basket, full of apples, and shoved it into the bag. Logan gave him his basket, and watched Remus make it disappear.

“If they won’t listen to you just because they see you act improperly, because they see you smile and feel happy, then they’re a bunch of hypocrites that I want to punt into the fucking sun.”

Logan took a deep breath in. A tiny little voice inside of him screamed to lash out, punch a tree in anger and frustration and pain, but that would be illogical. The apples had been picked. That was all. Now saffron, or honey, or whatever Remus would drag him to next. Then he’d be back in his room, asleep in his chair, then in the morning—

“I honestly don’t know why you care so much,” Remus said.

Logan exhaled.

“They’re all I have.”

Remus set a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re have me now, too. Let’s go get the saffron!”

The earth suddenly fell out from under his feet. Logan couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped his mouth, hand flying out to grab Remus’ arm. Then as quickly as it disappeared, the earth came back, and his feet hit the ground. He yanked his hand away from Remus, brushing invisible dust off of the front of his shirt. 

They had appeared in a desert. The sun beat down bright and strong, no clouds in the sky to inhibit it. His feet sank into the sand. A harsh wind kicked up the sand, and it flew around in a flurry like a blizzard. Logan gazed at the horizon. Nothing for miles and miles, just sand, low and level.

“Is this where you find saffron?” Logan asked. Remus crossed his arms.

“You should know better than anyone that flowers can’t grow in a desert! And besides, I just found out saffron came from flowers. So I have to grow them!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why bring us to a desert then?”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Remus turned away from him. He raised his hands out, like he was conducting a band. He slowly breathed in. Logan felt the sand under his feet shift, pull together, and shake. Logan’s eyes went wide.

“What’re you—“

Remus turned back to Logan, eyes filled with fire.

“What is the best condition for crocuses, Logan?”

Logan swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Saffron crocuses bloom in early to mid fall, and prefer sandy loam and lots of sunshine. They prefer soil with good drainage, as well as a pH range of 6.0 to 7.0. Crocus grow best in hardiness zones 5 through 8, not too hot, but not too cold either.”

A cool, fall breeze ruffled Remus’ hair and the fishnet shirt he wore. Logan raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell the temperature, but it certainly had gotten cooler.

“What is sandy loam?” Remus asked, knocking Logan’s train of thought off the tracks.

Logan paused for a moment. Remus really wanted to know. But why? The imagination didn’t follow the laws of physics or nature, why would he want to know? He said he liked hearing him talk. But did he?

“Sandy loam is soil that, while containing silt and clay, has primarily sand in it. It is a good soil for gardening because of its draining abilities… Does it matter?”

Remus tilted his head.

“Well, if you were to be making a big ol’ crocus field, you’d care about the soil! Everything about it! So since it matters to you…”

Remus smiled brightly, and grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him. Logan let himself be pulled, finding himself right in front of Remus, stumbling as the ground shifted under his feet. Bright sand melded together and changed, turning into dark, rich earth. Logan knelt, scooping a little bit into his hand. Sandy loam. 

The soil in his hand moved, like a miniature earthquake. A small, green sprout rose from the dirt, reaching towards the sun. Delicate green leaves grew, and so did a small, purple bud. It opened. Vibrant amethyst petals showed themselves to him, but so did three red stigma. Saffron.

“My god,” Logan said, “that was amazing!”

Remus snorted out a laugh.

“What, you've never seen Roman do something like that?”

Logan shook his head. Roman preferred to run his side of the imagination like an actual human kingdom, planting saplings and waiting patiently for them to grow. Sometimes, he’d see Roman in the wheat fields, harvesting wheat with a large iron scythe, just how a human would do. He let everything take its time, and grow at its own pace. 

“Really?” Remus crowed. “Well then— watch this!”

Remus cackled, and snapped his fingers.

The ground shifted under Logan’s knees, and hundreds of little green sprouts poked out from the dark earth, basking in the gentle sunlight. Glorious purple buds opened to reveal perfect crocuses, each with three sprigs of saffron inside. Logan gazed out to the horizon. The desert had turned to a field of purple, as grand and never ending as a sunset.

Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock. For miles and miles, nothing but crocus…

“Amazing,” Logan whispered, “absolutely amazing.”

With a thud, Remus sat down next to him. He leaned forward, and tore one of the crocuses from the ground, holding it up to Logan. Then, the petals shuddered, as if blown by an invisible wind, merging and shifting until they had formed a purple frog.

“Look,” Remus exclaimed, “it’s a croak-us!”

Logan couldn’t help but snort with laughter, covering his mouth quickly. His eyes went wide. Remus didn’t seem to have any intention of poking fun at him for laughing, but it was better safe than sorry. Though he couldn’t help but think of Remus, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but an apron, saying that he’d beaten him fair and square, and could do so again. Logan lowered his hand from his mouth, chuckling quietly. It was a pretty funny pun.

"Yes," Logan opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. "'It's quite ribbit-ing." 

Logan looked up, meeting Remus’ eyes. There was no judgement, no smugness. Remus looked absolutely fucking delighted, a manic glint in his eyes.

"You've toad the line!” Remus cackled. Logan laughed quietly, staring right at the little frog in the flower, trying to think of another frog pun. His brows furrowed in thought. 

"Did you know that in South America, there's a species of big frog with enough poison to kill two thousand men?” Remus said, interrupting Logan’s train of a thought. 

"I don't believe that's true. The golden dart frog grows only up to five millimeters, as opposed to the goliath frog, which can grow up to three-hundred and twenty, and weigh just over four pounds."

“Damn, you know a lot about frogs,” Remus said, “it’s pretty cool!”

“I researched them extensively after Patton turned into one, just in case another problem arose.” 

They stared at each other, much too long to be considered normal. Remus's lips twitched. The silence grated on Logan’s nerves. Had he said something wrong? 

“Would you like to play a word association game?” Logan nervously asked.

"Part two: Electric Boogaloo!" Remus exclaimed, startling the croak-us enough to hop into the fields of its former kin.

He brought his hand down onto Logan's in a low five, purple petals smeared onto his palm. Remus was still grinning, parts of his moustache standing on end, like he'd been shocked. Electric Boogaloo. Remus sat, cross-legged in the new soil so they were face to face. Logan brushed against him, and felt the burn of a spark go out on his leg. Electric Boogaloo, again.

"Vampire,” Remus said.

Logan’s mind jumped to when Virgil had dressed as a vampire for halloween.

"Halloween."

“Black?”

"Orange."

"Bok choy!” Remus chirped.

Logan paused. What led to that connection? Remus shrugged.

"Plant,” Logan said, brushing off his previous confusion.

"Maple.”

"Canada.”

"Pancakes."

"Syrup."

"HONEY!"

Remus snapped, loud as a cracking whip. Logan watched him shake a freshly printed page he clutched in his hand, peering at it intensely. 

“It says on our list that we need honey!”

Logan looked back out at the field of crocuses. Every single one of them had three sprigs of saffron inside, red and beautiful. He could smell it, the aroma beautiful and heavy. 

“We have to harvest the saffron first, for the paella. How much will we need for the recipe, Remus?”

Remus sighed.

“Harvesting saffron ourselves sounds like a big waste of time. Don’t you think?”

Logan brushed his fingers on the warm, rich soil. He imagined Remus and him in the field of saffron, carefully plucking saffron from the flowers, putting the delicate threads in jars to be dried later. Then he could ask all the questions in the world about the soil, the saffron. He could spend hours talking to Remus about everything he wanted to. He wanted to say so much. And yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. Remus wouldn’t tell him to shut up, so what was stopping him? Nothing was stopping him.

“Yes,” Logan said, “it would take up a good deal of time. But honey won’t take that long, will it?”

“I don’t even need honey,” Remus admitted, “I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you without any of the others popping in or having to wait until like five am. You’re the functional one, you gotta get some sleep.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. Remus’ words slowly went through his head. His heart did a backflip— even though that certainly was anatomically impossible— and his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Yeah,” Logan said, voice quiet, “I do. I mean— uh. Spending time with you is much better than laying unconscious for eight hours.”

“As if you get eight hours of sleep,” Remus said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“So. We don’t need honey?”

“We still need mussels.”

“Mussels, yeah,” Logan said, breathless, standing up, “lead the way.”

“What about the saffron?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. He stood.

“...Well. We can always come back for that some other time.”

Remus nodded, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, some other time. Well then. Off we go!”

Remus grabbed Logan’s arm, and the world fell away from them. Logan closed his eyes. 

Waves crashed gently. He could hear them, and feel a cold sea breeze blow on his skin, ruffling his hair. He slowly opened his eyes. Apparently, night had fallen while his eyes were shut, and moonlight bathed everything in a pearly pale light. The air smelled like salt. Both of his feet were solidly on a wooden dock. Remus’ hand still felt warm on his arm.

“How long did that take?” Logan asked. The sun had still been up when they left.

“It’s always night here,” Remus explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I like it better that way. Look at the beach and you’ll see why.”

Logan turned his head. The moon shone gently on the black sand beach, but more impressive were the waves— each foaming, rushing wave carried with it an ethereal teal glow, like all the stars in the sky were gently ebbing with every wave. Logan stared at the water, eyes wide. 

“The waves glow like that because of an algal bloom, right? And when the water moves it causes the algae to glow. It is absolutely wonderful, Remus.”

Remus smiled, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he was shy.

“Thanks, this place is one of the first places I’ve ever made, and the first one I felt satisfied with. The rest of this place I like to keep constantly changing, but not here.”

Remus walked to the end of the dock. He calmly set his bag down, then yanked off his fishnet top, holding it in his hand. Logan watched his hands undo the button of his shorts, then watched Remus toss his shorts onto the dock, revealing the bright green speedo he wore, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Remus raised his arms out like Christ on the cross, looking up at the full moon. Then he tilted backwards, gracefully falling off the dock, and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Logan slowly walked to the end of the dock. He knelt, knees pressed against wet wood. Even through the glowing waves and the dark water he could see Remus’ back, his legs, pale skin disappearing quickly underwater. 

Logan’s hands clasped the indigo fabric of his tie. Then they drifted down. He sat down, cross legged, staring down at the water. Slowly, he took one shoe off, setting it carefully behind him. Then the other. He pulled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Then his pants, leaving him in boxers, his shirt, and his tie. He took off his glasses.

His hands clasped his tie again. He gazed at the water, dark as the night around him except for the beautiful waves and the occasional glimpse of Remus’ skin. Then he raised his head, staring out into the distance. He could see for miles. Empty, dark ocean, with no land in sight. Slowly, he loosened the knot. His hands shook. 

Remus wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he took off his tie. He wouldn’t see him as less. He would see him as Logic, as Logan. Nothing less. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cold, salty air. pulled off his tie, setting it with the rest of his clothing. Before he could lose his nerve he yanked his shirt off, threw it haphazardly in the pile of clothing, and ran to the end of the dock. He jumped. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the air, flying to the water—

He landed with a loud, graceless splash. The water around him lit up like fireworks. Surprisingly, the water felt warm compared to the bite of the wind. Logan couldn’t tell where Remus was, he just knew he was underwater with him now. Logan kicked and paddled until he reached the surface, gasping for breath. A sharp laugh escaped him. His heart pounded in his chest— he could feel it beating, even though he knew he didn’t need one to function. The waves rushed over him, bright as all the stars. 

Logan treaded water in place, then let himself tilt back, until he floated on his back. Waves gently rocked him, and he let them. What had he been so scared of? He laughed again, much quieter, listening to the waves rush to shore. 

Next to him, he heard Remus surface, taking a deep breath.

“You good?” Remus asked. Logan turned his head a little, looking at Remus. His hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead.

“Perfectly fine,” Logan responded, “and you?”

Remus didn’t answer, just smiled and sunk into the water. The wind blew cold over his skin, sending a shudder up his spine. Remus had to be swimming under him, collecting the mussels he’d use for the paella. Logan couldn’t help but wait for the time they’d be able to spend in the kitchen, knees bumping, or the time they’d spend collecting saffron, the sun shining on violet flowers in a golden gleam. 

Logan breathed out slowly. There was something with Remus that made all his thoughts become portraits. Cohesive, yes, but coated in a loveliness that never used to be there. It might have to do with the imagination. It might not. 

The waves beneath him swelled, then gently ebbed out. Remus surfaced again, treading water as easily as breathing. He’d changed his fishnet top into a net, which was full of mussels and what looked like clams, maybe? Logan couldn’t tell. 

Remus gingerly grabbed Logan’s arm. The waves under them swelled. 

“Let’s go back up onto the dock,” Remus whispered.

Logan nodded. Within the blink of the eye, they both appeared on the dock, both of them soaking wet. Remus shook his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. Logan raised his hand to keep the water from hitting him, even though he was already absolutely soaked. Remus set the bag of shellfish on the dock with a clatter. 

He calmly took one out of the net, and Logan realized they were oysters, not clams. Remus grabbed his bag, unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a knife. He held the oyster carefully, curved side flat against his palm, and wiggled his knife into the hinge between the shells. Remus’ hands were surprisingly steady, even as the knife slipped between the shells and the oyster popped open. He scraped the knife against the inside of the shell, freeing up the meat, then knocked the oyster back like a shot.

Silently, he offered Logan the knife. Their fingers brushed as Logan took the hilt of the knife, grabbing an oyster from the net. He mimicked Remus’ movements, trying to slip the knife between the two shells. Remus chuckled, and grabbed the hand that held the knife. 

“You have to press harder,” he said, “you can’t finesse your way into the shell, you have to put some oomf behind it. If you don’t, it’ll never ever open up.”

Logan swallowed. He felt oddly lightheaded as Remus guided the knife between the shells of the oyster, helping him push the knife into the space between the shell, easing the hinges apart with the flat of the blade. The shell slipped into the cup of his fingers, just so, supported by the weight of Remus's hands over his, thumb pushing against his, twisting the hinge open with a pop.

"See?" Remus was grinning, that ever-present expression of glee, and Logan tore his eyes from it to the movement of hands again, guiding the knife under the oyster to lift the flat shell off. 

"These would be good for the garden," Logan blurted out. Remus looked up, just as attentive as he'd always been, and the words caught in his throat for a second. "For- for the soil, oyster shells, when ground into powder, have been shown to improve soil pH and nutrient status, strengthening cell walls due to an increase in calcium, overall resulting in healthier produce.”

Remus tilted his head. Logan’s face flushed.

“...I know you employ an extraordinary method of growing and cultivating, and therefore have no need for this knowledge, but tossing them aside or simply letting them disappear seemed.. unnecessary."

"I think you need to stop worrying about what I need to know, and start asking what else I'd want to hear,” Remus said with a grin, “But it is flattering that you think it's extraordinary. Now why don’t you try the oyster?”

Logan stared at the meat of the oyster.

“I just… drink it?”

“Like a shot, yeah.”

Logan slowly brought the oyster to his mouth. Slowly, he tilted his head back, opening his mouth.

The taste made his eyes go wide. The meat of the oyster was plump against his tongue, but it tasted like coppery brine. He swallowed it without chewing, since he hadn’t noticed Remus’ jaw moving. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh, ocean air.

“Why don’t you stay here?” Remus suddenly asked. Logan’s eyes shot wide open. He had another oyster in his hands, wriggling his knife between the shells.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Remus looked down at the oyster, face surprisingly blank and unreadable.

“You spend all day in your room except for when you come out and cook with me. I have a feeling that I almost wasn’t able to get you out of your room today. So why don’t you just stay here? I can make you a castle or a cottage for you to study in, and you won’t have to worry about the others bothering you. And you’ll be able to come here whenever you want. So what do you say. Will you stay?”

Logan stared down at his hands. He could. He could say yes, and watch Remus make him a place to stay, a place that was truly his. No worries of anyone walking in and seeing him disheveled, just himself and Remus.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes. I’m needed with the rest of the sides, and Virgil may see my leaving as betrayal, or a sign of untrustworthiness. I need to keep them on my side. I need them to trust me, to listen to me.”

Remus still was fixated on the oyster. The knife slipped between the two shells, and it popped open. Remus’ brows rose.

“I still think you’d enjoy it here more than you would crammed in your little room all the time. And I don’t know how to tell you in a way that’ll make you listen, but they need you more than you think they do. You are all of Thomas’ cleverness and wit. Where would he be without you? Creativity is nothing without knowledge— whether its working with or against knowledge.”

Logan shook his head. Remus slowly reached for Logan’s hand. Logan let him take it, pull his fingers open, and press something into his palm. It felt like a pebble. Logan felt his hands ball into fists.

“Roman seems to mostly work against me, but at least Thomas heeds his words. I really can’t stay here. I…. I should honestly go. It’s late.”

Logan awkwardly stood, fists still clenched. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out. A part of him still wanted to stay, to sit with Remus at the dock and watch the glowing waves, to eat oysters with him. He closed his mouth and nodded. Remus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll teleport you and your clothes back to your room. Just… you’re welcome back whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”

Logan smiled. He wanted to say something, but the next thing he knew the world vanished around him. Then it reappeared, and he saw the door to his room. There was a bowl of spaghetti in front of it. It had long grown cold, but Logan picked it up anyways, and stepped into his room.

He set the bowl of spaghetti on his desk, and haphazardly tossed his clothes on the floor. He felt soaked to the bone, and started to shiver a little, even though he knew he couldn’t feel cold, couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t feel the cocktail of conflicting emotions inside of him. With a sigh, he sat in his office chair. His hands, still curled into fists, shook slightly. What had Remus given him? Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. 

Resting in his palm was a round, black pearl. 

Logan stared at the black pearl in his palm. A million different thoughts rushed through his head, most of them strange and illogical. He could go back to the pier and watch the luminescent waves, or help Remus grind the oyster shells down into fertilizer. And they would eat oysters together until they had enough pearls to make a necklace, a necklace he’d wear wherever he went.

Then what? 

Then Logan would wear the necklace, and someone would ask where he got it from.

This was for the best for Thomas’ stability. It had to be.

Logan let his head flop against the headrest of his office chair, and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

He never let go of the pearl.

#Sanders sides #Logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #sanders side fic #they share a kitchen #patton sanders #virgil sanders

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

The One Where Wilford asks Dark about a Fanfic Trope

Wilford’s been reading too many fan fictions. Then he told me this very silly idea about asking questions about a common trope in said fics and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it. 

(Sorry.)

Word count: 1,010

-

As the resident ‘fourth wall breaker’, one of Wilford’s hobbies was to sneakily check the fandom and their works inspired by the egos and their world. On days when technology worked in his favour without causing major disruption for everyone else (who could forget the time that he skipped a Youtube ad and broke the coffee machine?), he would snoop around the various websites. He would coo over fan art, get immersed in fan theories, and lose track of time reading fan fiction. All in all, it was great to see what the fans were doing when there was nothing new in ‘canon’ to work with.

(Oh, the ships! The fluff! The angst! The crack! It all made his little heart flutter. How creative their fans were!!)

One such day had Wilford spending a free day catching up on the fandom works. He was supposed to be in the studio, but all the Jims were called away for a ‘family emergency’; while Bim worked on his podcast. Not that Wilford minded. It was good they all knew work wasn’t the most important thing! Instead, he lounged on the sofa, flipping from drabbles to headcanons to stories. What a great way to spend the day… Until something caught his attention.

-

“Hey, Dark?” 

“Yes?” The entity didn’t look up from his laptop, nor did he stop typing.

“Why are ya workin’ in an office?”

“It’s a rented office space. Cheaper and more efficient than renting a giant house like you originally wanted. This is more beneficial given that a large majority of this ‘company’ is dedicated to matters in the entertainment industry and they require a large space to rehearse and perform.”

“Ah. Okay.” Wilford dropped the topic for several seconds until… “Hey, Dark?”

“What?”

“Whaddya mean th’ ‘majority’ is fer th’ entertainment industry?”

“The eclectic group that the ‘egos’ consist of have a variety of careers. Since a lot of them focus on the production of entertainment features - such as news, chat shows and game shows - it was the most reasonable solution to focus efforts there so that there is a sense of productivity amongst the entire group, even if the target audience is small.”

“Huh… But ya hate bein’ involved with shows.”

“I know that, Will.”

“Like, ta th’ point where ya accept people will call ya ‘Dark’ instead of ‘Damien’.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Well,” Wilford wriggled from his position on the sofa to peer at Dark. True to many of the stories he had been reading, Dark sat in a plush office chair behind a large desk, with a laptop in front of him and various folders and paper surrounding that. “Yer here. All th’ fans know that, an’ everyone punishes ya fer bein’ here by makin’ ya do borin’ paperwork. Why’s that?”

“You do realise that there are timeline variants of all of us, and what I do isn’t a staple for what others do, correct?” Wilford nodded in response. “So why does it matter?”

“Because yer my friend. I don’t want ya sufferin’ with paperwork if ya don’t wanna be here.”  Dark rolled his eyes, but it appeared the sentiment was appreciated. His eyes dropped to the laptop screen so he could save his work and shut the lid. Then, at last, Wilford had his full attention.

“I’m normally cast in the role of ‘working in an office’ because fans normally don’t know what to do with me in a work-related setting. They saw our scene in Markiplier TV where I sat at the head of the boardroom table, noticed that my appearances had no direct involvement with any actual productions and were instead me directly interacting with them with no interference; and thus concluded that I must while away my hours behind a desk with generic paperwork. For all they know, these are pages with endless lorem ipsum blurbs pasted on them. But since most fans don’t know much about office work beyond what they’ve seen on TV, it passes with little complaint.”

“That… Really sucks. I’m sorry that’s yer fate. But, uh… What are ya doin’?” Wilford tumbled off the sofa to approach the desk and lift one of the pages. Compared to the glorious fanfics, it was written in a tiny typeface with big words that scrambled his head.

“Again, what I do career-wise as a ‘Darkiplier’ doesn’t match what others may do, but I am a qualified lawyer by trade. I’ve had to shift my focus to working in the world of a business rather than helping individual clients. In brief, I’m the main reason that the studio hasn’t been sued out of existence by making sure every project is legally sensible. I also write up and maintain the contracts of those that work here who aren’t egos, as well as offer legal advice beyond what Google or Bing might suggest from their search systems. I’ve had to also take a side-step into accounting and finance to make sure that people get paid.”

“... That sounds like a lotta work.”

“Which is precisely why I deal with the brunt of it and call you in when I know how best to explain it. We’re both in charge as two of the ‘mascots’ of Mark’s channel. The ‘heart and soul’, if you will.” To Wilford’s surprise, a coy smirk appeared on Dark’s lips. “Our studio isn’t as disastrous as you think. I actually have quite a large amount of free time. I mainly stay here to keep away from the chaos. Did you know I paint?”

“Ya what?” Curiosity piqued, Wiford planted his hands on the table and stretched forward. “Ya paint? What do ya do?”

Dark opened his laptop again and resumed typing.

“Hey. Damien. I wanna know ‘bout yer paintin’!”

No answer.

“C’moooonnnn, pleeaaaase?” 

Dark looked up with a sigh.

“I’m afraid my hands are tied. There simply aren’t enough fan fictions and headcanons to allow me to elaborate.” There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he went back to work, ignoring Wilford’s pleas to hear more.

#writersofmark #Wilford Warfstache #Darkiplier #markiplier fanfiction #breaking the fourth wall #(he literally wouldn't leave me alone until I did this) #Rose Petals (Wilford) #Cracked Mirror (Dark) #(read-more is for tidiness! :D )