#CALL HER OUT the way you did before STOP BEING POLITE GO APESHIT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theskyexists · 1 year

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gundam ep 18, 19 20

didnt want to watch more gundam bc i was so pissed and i didnt think that the writers/narrative were going to treat what they had miorine do to suletta with enough weight.

i start episode 6 after waiting to let myself calm down.good call on my part. but

why the fuk does miorine feel beholden to prospera when prospera didnt do shit lol

miorine’sover the top anger is no longer adorable. it’s just childish and annoying. a sign of her being stupidly out of her depth. the politics are also so ridiculous. is shin sei now miorine’s subsidiary? when did that happen? WHAT IS OWNERSHIP EVEN IN THIS UNIVERSE. DID MIORINE INHERIT SHARES?????????

this was the ONLY way it could go yeah for suletta to think that i guess. but damn im glad i waited

‘ive no intention of fighting you you saved my life’BUT i will insult your friend.

what an idiot. starting to dislike how this is all about literal children

are we punching miorine. we doing this?

so martin got hurt by a mob and they’re like hey why dont u stay behind to protect the base from the mob. lol

miorine never rescinded earth house’s rights to the ship with which they can just dump suletta at her place? ????? god its so japanese

fuck. chuchu is NOT punching miorine? ‘talking things out’? what the fuck. why are we getting all these fun lil group dynamics after something so shit. why are they still working for gundarm at all. ‘WHEN the bullies come back, dont try anything crazy’ literally leaving the hurt member for the bullies to kill iguess. what the fuck

how is this elan so good at fighting he can stop a terrorist pilot witch from stabbing him in the eye

‘i did not expect him to team up with peil’ why the fuck ever not

wow that went fast. suletta didn’t even fight for aerial. god. the most doormat to ever doormat. not even AERIAL. did prospera arrange for suletta to find aerial because eri wanted to see her?

what the fuck dude i mean. why.... WHY.

ok so why didnt eri ever do this before though like - could have talked to her in this mindspace all along. ok so...uh. they dont need the key which is suletta anymore. and...wait. so there were a lot of children. but surely not so many. what with the timeline. but hold on. and score eight, thats when eri doesn’t need a pilot. you’re telling me there was no way of tweaking the software or hardware for the AI inside to take control of the suit. beyond a score 8 datastorm. why the fuck is eri being so nasty to suletta. i thought she cared about her

what the fuck. literally like. what the fck. why would eri do this to her right after miorine did this to her. what even goes on in their minds

simply ejects her into the vacuum of space with limited air supply. ok.....? i mean. and aerial cannot be steered by herself either we were just told so they’re both just in space i guess.

prospera and eri literally just told her: actually use you were also just a cog in a machine that we were using and we dont need anymore bye

???????????????????????????????????why the fuck would eri do that

‘suletta deserves to live freely’

are you fuckign serious. are you fucking serious. really. you’re fucking serious. you are telling me that. prospera and eri care about suletta as well but they just lied to her again and told her they don’t just to let her ‘live freely’.. all these people are completely insane and psychopaths and completely unforgivable. completely fucking insane and unforgivable. the writers just made it worse. i CANNOT forgive this. i literally cannot.

if suletta does not go apeshit i will kill somebody and that somebody will be the whole writing team

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ep 19

let me just say that i saw some ‘oh we all good now’ fanart and i am absolutely not about it. jezus christ.

wow they really skimped on the animation for miorine

suletta is going further and further into a depression spiral and earth house is jus like: hmmm sucks . and the people who love her are like: lol bye better off without us! fuck yoU!!!

this rando side character from a mid-level company who for some reason does the counselling at the school (???) or hijacks it is like a total ......like. player. reallyjust playing around . its great

what IS benerit group’s jurisdiction? is miorine ever gonna see the terrible circumstances that her friends came from? too bad Nika and Chuchu aren’t along to point out: yeah i worked here as a nine year old 12 hours a day lol

who the hell is miorine negotiating with? and why is she going if she doesnt speak for the group. what can she even promise

this spacian and not-elan and nika have been in thisroom for what. a week? and somehow elan is capable of holding her TWICE. how theFUCK is he not dead. his superior male strength apparently. hate this part. its boring. it’s sexist. it’s stupid. but i guess its nice that theyre doing a fucked up emotional bond between the shitty spacian and the shitty earthian bc they’re both gundam pawns

miorine thinks she can get some goodwill for developing prosthetic limbs....(which by all accounts ALREADY EXIST LOL LOOK AT PROSPERA). wow that went surprisingly well. goodthing the guy’s a doctor. and recognised she means well. might be a way to change things etc.

general guy surely must have been responsible for the 1500 earthians disappeared and tortured huh....

god i cant stand the earth house-suletta dynamics. everybody is so annoying. suletta for being her same old self and earth house peeps for being like: oh but just have a meal with us we’re friends :):):):) shut the fuck up

it’s like these writers have never experienced grief at all

oh she just gotta have a nice soup and a cry and a meal with friends. shut the fuckup

‘even when you know it’s not the right way, sometimes it’s the only thing you can do’

uh. no. what? martin didn’t have to sell nika out just bc he was sure she was a terrorist. miorine and eri and prospera didnt have to stab suletta in all the worst places just to ‘set her free’. that like saying: oh i killed a couple of people but eh, meh, eh, so what?i just fucked around abit and now we’re finding out. so it goes!

seriously this kid actually reveals all this shit to guel??? lol!!!!what an idiot!!! these people almost killed you!!! guel doesnt even care enough to get a you a spot in the academy (’you should ask somebody else’WHO GUEL. WHO IS HE GONNA MEET)

this story went far off the rails

this kid just sold out his people’s best chance of becomign indpeendent and free from benerit group. what idiot adult never told this complete dumbass to keep his fucking mouth shut.

prospera. what the FUCK. how is THIS necessary for anything? Eri. Why are you doing this also. Im looking at all the fanart thats like ooooo we all good after ep 22 we a happy family.

Suletta is a psycho. Prospera is a way worse psycho. Miorine is a bitch. Guel is a total bastard. Even Eri is a total psycho.

oh ok it was an excuse to leave miorine behind with no guards at all. LOL. the guards all left and prospera was like byeeeeeeee

the high council (?) (who the fuck are they then) have been funding the earthian ochs earth corporation gundams....ok thats one mystery solved. so why did prospera attack the gundams there. and was there an implications that there are multiple sophies and noreas or were they simply associated in teh system. but also what. they corrupted GUND principles? you care about those prospera?

Miorine seriously has no direct control over her men or gundams? why is she so......DUMB. i know shes only seventeenbut like.

‘oh we didnt give orders’ that is no excuse. check your lines of command. get your goddamn intel directly. there are like three fucking robot pilots. you can speak to them DIRECTLY. now they’re blowing up shit because theyre getting shot at. soldiers and cops are such cowards. oh ill just laserblast everybody. instead of idk. listening to ORDERS and simply evading

‘guel, you’ve defiled her’

what. lol. shaddiq maybe you should have helped her. idk. always being such a stupid dick

‘prospera mercury was onto us.’ ok so he knows that shes destroyed the stored gundams.

aerial did NOT do the only thing she could. in fact, she could have just said: suletta, our mother is a total pschyo, shes going to fuck everyone over just so i can live again. you shouldnt be part of that. with her actual voice

literally.what is this japanese fucking bullshit. it’s like they literally have different neural pathways. like LITERALLY. every anime has this to some extent. where there’s these contrived mantras based on idiotic non-communciation. as though it is impossible to be truthful or straightforward about anything. its better to stab someone than be straightforward.

really hate the tempo, the futility, and most of all the heart of the emotional conflict. it’s fake. it’s extreme. there’s no payoff. and in the end it is unrelated to any of the earthian suffering.

i predict: suletta is not going to go apeshit

chuchu did not punch miorine and will not

prospera and eri will also not get any comeuppance

‘its all my fault. i did this’

uh yeah. because you didn’t prepare. you didn’t consider that everybody had their fingers on the triggers. you didnt control your soldiers. YOUR SOLDIERS. just let the commander fly off. didn’t intervene in communication. didn’t tell the commander that THOSE robots also needed to be disarmed. yeah. people died because you’re an idiot. fuck you

AND MIORINE IS THE ONLY MORALLY INTELLIGENT CHARACTER IN THE WHOLE DAMN SHOW. THE ONLY ONE IN THE ENTIRE SHOW!!!!!!!!! EVERYBODY ELSE IS EITHER EXTREMELY DUMB SELFISH OR MORALLY CORRUPT. UNFORTUNATELY SHE’S ALSO AN IDIOT.

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ep 20

shaddiq is angry at guel for no reason. guel is angry at shaddiq for important reasons like he accidentally killed his dad at the plant quetta incident that shaddiq orchestrated

what is this ‘comedy’ low-stakes shit between martin and these two leftover student council idiots

‘our mobile suit wrecked havoc while we claim to be a medical company’ maybe shouldnt have a mobile suit. ‘even lilique is angry’ WHY AREN’T THEY.

why is earth house so completely apathetic? Miorine kicked suletta to the curb like its nothing. they didnt much care. Miorine seems to have attacked a major Earth city. they dont much care. fucking hell dude lol

he really thinks guel (who is definitely a dumbass) was the one to taint miorine’s name and soul? he KNOWS prospera was behind it. jezus christ. can they just kill each other already. fucking hell. how did the writing tank likethis.

shaddiq deliberaely wants to have the school demolished....

wow those cathedra guys are terrabad at responding to attacks and protecting civilians

how does shaddiq knowthat. right bc he has connections with. ok its a way to freak him out but cmong guel. SHADDIQ SET THAT UP ACCUSE HIM OF THAT RIGHT NOW. didnt

the weird thing about the gundam fights is why their conversations are always boosted from enemy to enemry to the entire fuckign public

comms just said: dont get involved leave it to security

house jeturk instantly sends out a student. who almost got killed last time. didnt even lift campus restrictions. SURELY thats a single fucking switch

Burion House doesnt have a single pilot with them in the bunker ?

chuchu really going for Nika right now? Martin the rat stopping her and asking Nika to help out? after ratting her out? my god

Nika: ‘this is all my fault’ what the ever living fuck are you talking about. what arrogance

shaddiq was hoping guel would protect miorine from all this shit but he didn’t i mean fair enough. guel is such a fail-man

shaddiq is for sure not. and his idea is pretty good. too bad he keeps having people murdered left and right. if he’d simply ordered his people in dawn of the fold to help miorine out but noooo

ah he wanted spacian losses at asticassia to poke the league....but....then why was he running for president. and also. surely he hasn’t been able to transfer many of the assets yet. just grassley’s

i like how norea’s grief is fuckin realhere alright

wow elan doing his: i hold your arms so you cant hit me move here again. even works in mobile suit form. lol

yap. norea too. i mean. who can care about suletta or miorine or fuckin guel when sophie and norea be imploding right here. the war oprhans, the exploited unprivileged drafted children.they’re mercilessly mowed down by the ‘good guys’ cathedra. who’ve been doing that shit for twenty years.

I HATE earth house lol

i also hate suletta. dont like her shounen shit anymore which isnt shounen shit anymore. thats because all of this is just so.....who cares.who cares. truly who cares.

thing is. this show really likes to do dramatic moments but all the dramaticmoments this past season have not been satisfying. they have been really frustrating narratively. shaddiq and prospera and miorine and the league all fucking shit up. miorine really SHOULD have chosen shaddiq it turns out. they might have actually made a good pair, if shaddiq had been truthful at all

suletta isnt gonna do shit about earth. she really doesnt give a fuck. miorine is too stupid to do anything about it. guel ABSOLUTELY is. and everybody else is infinitely dumb

to be honest, why did prospera destory earth ochs gundams when it destroyed miorine’s chances of becoming president. unless she didnt need quiet zero after all. but then why bother with her AT ALL

#i really cant with these kids anymore #oh nooooo i made an oopsie now people are dead.... : / oh no....#mio is gonna go through some angst #then get better #fuck off #im so done with these characters #suletta isnt even gonna hold it against them #my stuff #vidi #gundam

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abduct-me-helen · 4 years

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Class 108′s Apocalypse Field Trip | Chapter 5.

“Marcy’s alive?” Jon asked incredulously, eyes wide in surprise. Martin stood next to him, and their height different was apparently “adorable,” or so class 108 had said.

“That’s what Annabelle told me.” Martin replied, thinking back to the conversation and searching for details in the way that she’d sounded. He knew he was dealing with the Web though; Annabelle was nothing if not manipulative and direct in both her overt and subtle actions.

“On the phone.” Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“That’s where we talked, yeah.” Martin confirmed, his tone shifting as he looked behind them to see Elliot and Raphi snogging while the others, (minus Riko and Katie), chanted “make out! Make out!” over and over again.

Nope, he was not getting into that.

“How? Why is Annabelle keeping her alive?” Jon asked, pointedly ignoring what was going on behind them.

“She’s not, or at least that’s what she said. She thinks it has something to do with the End.” Martin told him wearily.

“That’s lucky for us.” Jon said.

“Why?”

“We’re coming upon the Corpse Roots soon enough.”

Martin perked up. “Are we going to, you know, go kill bill?”

Jon hesitated.

“Jon.”

“I don’t know, Martin. It’s-Oliver Banks rules over this domain.” He explained, gesturing wildly.

“So?” Martin questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I, I just don’t think…I don’t think he’s evil.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a very benevolent ruler of a hellish fear prison.” Martin replied sarcastically.

“It’s just-he helped me. Wh-when I was,” Jon sighed, running his hand through his hair and taking a second to pause, “He woke me up.”

“Wow, what a hero.” Martin deadpanned.

“Martin?” Jon asked, amused and raising an eyebrow.

“What.” Martin said shortly. Jon made an amused noise, an all-too-knowing smile beginning to grow on his face.

“Yeah, alright; I know; I’m sorry.” Martin apologized quickly, sighing.

Jon was now smirking, voice full of amusement. “…Is there something you want to talk about?”

No, I’m-fine; it’s fine; everything’s fine! I’m sorry.” Martin said quickly, ducking away and speeding up his footsteps. Jon did the same to match him, a smug grin on his face.

“Martin…” His expression was like the cat getting the cream.

“I said it’s fine.” Martin snapped quickly.

“Are you jealous?” Jon questioned, oh so audibly smug.

“Yeah, Martin, are you jealous?” Raphi yelled, pulling away quickly before snogging Elliot once again.”

“Oooh…” The class’s eyes lit up, their voices in unison, getting higher in pitch as their call of smugness continued. Turning away from the couple, they advanced towards the two men who led the head of their group. Cal clapped politely at Elliot and Raphi as they broke away to join the rest of his peers in taunting Martin.

“Just-just, hey, why is everyone ganging up on me!” Martin cried indignantly. Elliot smirked, before starting a chant.

“Mr. Sims and Martin, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love-” Elliot grinned as he spoke, before Cal cut him off quietly.

“-Then comes marriage-”

“Then comes a baby in a baby carriage!” Tabitha finished, grinning with a smug glee.

“Don’t they have anything better to do then gossip about our teacher’s love life?” Riko scoffed, trailing behind the rest of the class with Katie at her right.

“…probably not.” Katie answered dully, looking on with something akin to judgmental fondness, as much as that could be expressed on someone who was as reigned in as her.

“…that’s fair.”

“I told you not to Know things about me!” Martin pointed at Jon, telling him off.

Jon laughed. “I really didn’t have to.”

“I-y-you-good. ‘Cause I’m definitely not.” Martin said stubbornly, looking ahead in defiance.

“Sure.” “Pfft, that’s such a lie-” “Are you scared he’s gonna steal yo’ man?” “PUT A RING ON IT MARTO!”

“Alright!” Jon agreed smugly, obviously taunting Martin.

“Look, I’m fine, alright?” Martin told him forcefully.

“You said.” Jon agreed, nodding with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, I did! And e-and even if I was jealous, I would be perfectly justified anyway, so!” Martin explained quickly, refusing to look Jon in the eye.

Class 108 was snickering, and Martin decidedly didn’t comment on that.

Respect your elders! he wanted to tell them. But he couldn’t control them, no matter how much he wanted to. They were teens.

Teens.

He sighed inwardly, mentally banging his head against a wall.

“But you’re not.” The fact that Jon’s amusement was almost tangible is one that Martin loathed.

“No! I’m fine.” Martin exclaimed.

“Hey, give him a break. I say murder is a go.” Elliot coos, and Cal laughs quietly behind him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rosie said, laughing.

“Riko agrees with me. Hey! Riko! You agree, don’t you?” Elliot raised his voice, gaining Riko’s attention.

“Oh, I’m not getting involved.” She told him, raising her eyebrow.

“Pfft, boring.” He said, sighing dramatically.

“Tch.”

“Look. Martin, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous.” Jon and Martin continued to argue, both attempting, (and failing), to tune out class 108’s jeers.

“Why not?!”

Beat.

Martin deflated. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know, I know.” He sighed, before pausing. “Please?”

Jon laughed and Martin’s lip quirked upwards.

“Let’s go apeshit! Let’s go fucking apeshit!” Tabitha screeched, pumping her fist into the air.

“Language.” Jon chastised, heart not in it.

Tabitha stuck her tongue out.

Cypress felt…strange. It was the only way to put it. The corpse roots were comforting, in their own way, and he looked on with a fondness that should have surprised him.

It didn’t.

He knew what the End was now, but he still thought of it as death more than anything else. And he found peace in that.

Or maybe it was the depression talking.

He didn’t really care.

But he was pulled in, interested and feeling an odd, almost tugging need to do something. He had no idea what that something was, but he knew he’d find out soon.

“-know, but I just, I need to. I can be ignorant when all of this is going on!” Tabitha said loudly, surprising Cypress out of his reverie. He turned, and saw that she was talking to Mr. Sims.

“Statements…Tabitha, they change you. I’m not sure-”

Ah, so this was what they were arguing over. Cypress had been worried too. Tabitha’s hunger for knowledge was not knew, but the desperation to get it certainly way.

Or maybe not. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it had always been there it to an extent.

“Please,” she begged, voice rising, “I just-I need to know. This world, it’s…it’s terrible. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“You really think this will change anything?” Riko shot back acerbically.

“No, but it’ll make me feel better, so piss off.” Tabitha snapped, then sighed. “Sorry Riko.” She apologized.

Riko rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

Jon sighed. “Fine. Okay. You can listen.” Martin raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head. Tabitha cheered.

Cypress stepped closer. “I,” he paused, looking around before finalizing his thoughts, “I want to listen too.”

Jon was once again taken aback. “Why?” he said, incredulous.

Cypress shrugged. “I don’t know. I just,” he sighed, “I have my reasons, okay?”

Jon nodded slowly, sighing and motioning Martin to leave with the rest of the class, who looked on concernedly.

He waited a moment before he furrowed his brows and talked once again, looking up at the two students. “Once I start, I can’t stop. But if you get uncomfortable, at all, please leave. I won’t think worse of you or take offense. Agreed?”

Tabitha and Cypress nodded, but they both knew they’d stay, no matter how horrible it was. Jon sighed, and began the statement.

Report to prevent future deaths. This report is being sent to: The Great Eye that watches all who linger in terror and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze. And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself.

One: Coroner.

I am Oliver Banks, sometimes known as Antonio Blake or Dr Thomas Pritchard. I serve The Coming End That Waits for All and Will Not Be Ignored.

Two: Coroner’s legal powers.

I make this report under no authority; no regulation or act of law save the hollow power and grim responsibility given me by the Termination of All Life. With it, I may see and spread the hidden veins of destiny that wrap us close and draw us through the empty, yearning parody of meaning that we call life, knowing at all stages that the last and final point of this journey is a blank and futile end.

I have no power to stop it, and even if I did, I would not do so. For to rob a soul of death is as torturous as its inevitable coming.

Three: Investigation and inquest.

On the first and last day of the age of the Beholding, I begin my vigil into the story of Cypress Evans.”

Cypress and Tabitha looked up, eyes wide.

“What?” They said in unison, before refocusing once again.

He was about thirteen when it happened. Or, rather, he happened. The tendrils of the lonely had clung to him, but that is not the focus of my tale. No, I suppose I’ll be blunt.

Cypress Evans killed himself.

Cypress grit his teeth, and Jon’s eyes were wide. Tabitha tried to get up, despite her curiosity, in order to preserve his privacy, but felt tied down to the roots like a string.

Cypress did the same, not wanting to remember the tale that was spilling from Jon’s mouth.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t write a note, but in the days before his first ending he gave many gifts to those he cared about. Gifts that were his belongings.

He even wrote a small will, though it wasn’t as if it was anything official. He was thirteen; he didn’t have much property of his own.

But that is not the important part. What is important, is that he succeeded. Cypress Evans was officially dead for about five hours. No one found out.

Tabitha inhaled quickly, and this was not unnoticed by Cypress, who looked down in shame. She took his hand and gripped it while she maneuvered him to rest next to her, huddled into a ball while he shook.

Because he woke up.

Her eyes widened once again, glancing at him in shock.

His arm was knitted back together by some sort of thin, clear thread. And he was alive.

He didn’t tell a soul.

It was about two months later when he tried again, a different method this time. He tried pills. So many pills. A lot of pills.

And so, Cypress Evans died for the seemingly second time. And for the seemingly second time, he came back.

He looked away. Tabitha could guess that he thought it was a failure on his part, but she was glad that it hadn’t worked.

And worried for him.

How had she not known? Did she not pay enough attention?

She bit her lip in thought.

He is one of many thousands, neither remarkable nor unique in his background and goals. He has spent the last three of those years acutely aware of his seemingly immortal state of being and in constant dismay over it. The thing was, Cypress never feared death.

He craved it.

And it was being denied from him, one time, then two, then three, then four, then five, and so it goes on. At some point, it became recreational, to not be anything at all. To end, even if temporarily.

Cypress clenched his fist, and Tabitha squeezed his other hand.

Do not worry, Cypress. I’m certain you’re listening to this, though I’m not sure why I’m aware of that face. That thought was not my own, and I’m acutely aware of a spider crawling down my arm, so I can only assume one of the Web’s ilk is involved with this. Never the matter, I wanted to tell you this. No matter how immortal you may think you are, all things end, even if it takes a very, very long time.

You can be reassured that one day, you will die.

Tabitha hated the look of relief that washed over him, but shivered at the thought of being manipulated. The Web, above all others, irked her, ever since her experience with Marcy.

Back to my account.

Cypress, now sixteen years of age, if not for the odd situation regarding class 108, I believe he would’ve found himself within my domain, traveling slowly and unremittingly along the length of the stretching Corpse Routes.

And to his delight, eventually ending.

The earliest he can remember being certain he was about to die was when, at the age of six, due to allergies, he passed out. It was from a spider bite. Not a poisonous one, mind you. It was just his allergies, putting him in the hospital for a few hours.

The oddest thing though, was that he didn’t mind. Cypress had already accepted the inevitability of death, with his father passing away from cancer about two years prior to the bite. He found it reassuring, relaxing even.

The point was, Cypress was comforted by death.

And so it continued for the next three years of his life. He would die on the weekends, crave the release of not existing as a reward for doing so during the week. He always came back, groggily and painfully.

He never liked that part.

Five: Coroner’s concerns.

The matters of concern are as follows:

a) Cypress Evans was affected by the Web at some point during his life. I do not know what the reason for that is, but it’s a concern nonetheless. I do not know why Cypress does not walk the corpse roots, just as I do not know why class 108 seems to have been spared from the domains. I, again, suspect the Web to have something to do with this.

b) This place is a limit on the fear that can be generated from them, as their pool is necessarily finite and ultimately, however slowly, it will be exhausted.

To be offset, this consideration will require the acquisition of victims from other domains as replacements, potentially inciting…bad feeling between those domains.

c) A metaphysical quirk of this new reality’s divorce from the traditional concept of time, and - one for which I have no further explanation, means that I do not believe new humans are being created or born.

The souls trapped within this transformed world are the only ones who will ever be here, and the presence of the Termination of All requires that-ultimately, that is what will happen.

However slowly, the domains of death will be removing sufferers from a closed system. However many thousands of years may be experienced in time, eventually this world will be left barren and empty.

d) When this happens, the Great Powers themselves will also fade and die, withering away into nothingness and releasing this reality from their grip.

I… do not know how I feel about this.

Six: Actions that should be taken.

None. Even if such a fate could be avoided, as it comes closer and the other Entities grow in their awareness of their own end, the grotesque ripples of their own impossible panic shall glut and feed my master, gorging it to the point where-perhaps it will even surpass the Watcher in prominence.

Barring that, I have no desire to be destroyed by other Avatars who are upset at what they regard as “stealing” human souls to walk the Corpse Routes. If it becomes necessary to intervene at some point regarding whatever web the weaver is puppeting, I will do so.

The others may take what actions they wish; they may plot and plan and tear themselves apart in an attempt to separate from the fate that they know they cannot escape, but they will fail. The currents of perception and reality may twist in whatever shapes they want, but none of them can ever render things truly eternal.

And I shall help, ushering on this final, blank emptiness. Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.

But I am too much of my Patron now, and my feelings cannot help but reflect the shadows of… anticipation that lurk within the grave. The End does not fear its own cessation, for it is the certainty and promise of all life, however strange, that it will one day finish, and that includes its own stark existence.

It shall be the last, and when the universe is silent and still forever, it shall, perhaps, in that impossible moment before it vanishes, finally be satisfied.

Seven: Your response.

Please, Jon, do not interpret this report as a plea for mercy or a call to action. I would have offered it willingly, of course, but to do so is no longer an option.

I only ask that you be wary. I do not know what, but I believe the Web is up to something. Bar that, I believe it to be controlling even you in a world where you wear the crown.

Finally, Cypress, know this. All things end, and every step you take, whatever direction you may choose, only brings you closer to it.

I’m sure that brings you comfort.

Report ends.

Jon looked up, eyes widening as he regained control.

Cypress bolted.

“What the fuck happened?” Riko asked, sitting down across from Tabitha, gesturing to Cypress, who was in a clearing alone. Cal was sitting next to him but they didn’t appear to be talking.

Tabitha shook her head mutely, sighing. “It’s-I’m not going to intrude on his privacy. It was just-it was just intense.” She gestured.

Riko shrugged. “He isn’t dead. It’ll be fine.”

Tabitha knew that Riko was trying to comfort her, but those words made her bark out a bitter laugh.

Riko raised an eyebrow.

Tabitha sighed. “Look, basically the statement Mr. Sims gave was about Cypress, and for some reason Cypress and I couldn’t leave.”

“Wait, like you were tied down?” Riko asked incredulously.

“No, like…ugh. I don’t know how to put it. Yes, like we were tied down, but it was…more than that.”

“Oh, that’s revealing.” Riko said sarcastically.

“Hm.” Tabitha agreed, before looking behind her to see Jon approaching. He walked up the green hill before sighing, and running his hand through his hair.

He does that a lot, Tabitha thought absently.

“May I speak to you in private?” Jon asked Tabitha, who nodded. Riko didn’t budge, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was here first.”

Tabitha snickered. “Fair.”

Jon followed her until they came to a spot next to a tree, leaves waxy and tinted with the green light of the sky.

“So,” Jon awkwardly began, “I think it would be best if you didn’t discuss Cypress’…condition with anyone else. I know you wouldn’t,” he added, “I just wanted to make sure.”

Tabitha nodded. “No, totally, I get it.”

Jon nodded gratefully. “Do you think he’d benefit from talking to Martin or I?”

Tabitha tilted her head in thought. “Not really. He seems like the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, but…I don’t think he likes to be vulnerable with people. Cal seems to have it covered already though.” She pointed across the clearing to where Cal and Cypress were silently sitting side by side against the trunk of a thick hickory tree.

God, she hoped it was a hickory tree. While watching her friends get chased around by a living tree-monster thing was funny, it was also terrifying.

“That checks out. Well, that’s all I wanted to speak with you about.” His eyes seemed to glaze over familiarly, though Tabitha couldn’t quite place where she’d seen that look.

Tabitha nodded warily as he got up and walked towards Martin, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

#tma #the magnus archives #teacher jonathan sims #teacher jon #tma fic #apocalypse field trip #suicide tw #past suicide tw #pills tw

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akechicrimes · 4 years

Note

7 or 71 for either shuake or yukamitsu [big eye emojis]

7. “I told you that I’d never leave you; I’m not going anywhere.”

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

On Goro’s thirty-fourth birthday at ten-thirty in the morning, Akira calls him at work (which Goro dubiously eyeballs for a whole four seconds before picking up) and says, “Happy birthday, dear. I just got hit by a car, and I need to know what color bike you want.”

Well, neither Goro nor Akira own a car for Akira to drive, so that means Akira got hit on foot. Goro is very calm, and has no immediate panic response to that, because he’s a rational and responsible adult. “Are you dead?” Goro asks.

“Probably not.”

“And is there a reason you’re calling me instead of the ambulance?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I think I have a bruise on one of my legs, if that counts. But I was riding your bike when it happened, so the bike got totaled, so, you know. They’ve got the same model you had, but there’s tons of new colors, if you want pictures.”

Goro takes a very long, very deep breath. Goro is very, extremely calm. “Anything is fine,” he says. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, hundred percent. I even landed on my feet; you should’ve seen it.”

“You should go to the ER anyway,” says Goro, in a voice that is truly the epitome of calm.

“I mean, I guess I could, but that seems like a waste of time. And I don’t want to just leave your bike in the middle of the road.”

“Throw it away if it’s wrecked, then.”

“But it deserves a proper send-off.”

“You’re doing this to me on my birthday, Kurusu.”

“I’ll go to the ER if you go with me,” says Akira hopefully, who is a perennially bad influence who is of the opinion that Goro should have just said he’d be ‘working from home’ and spent the day with him.

Goro takes a look at his calendar, tallies up how many meeting he’d have to reschedule, and waits a whole five seconds before he lets himself say, “Fine,” because Akira just said that he’s fine and Goro isn’t upset and everything is so calm that Goro can wait five seconds before agreeing to leave work. “I’ll see you at Leblanc.”

“Wait, wait, which color for the bike? They’ve got green, blue, a red, a kind of fun rose-gold thing, which is a bit excessive considering it’s a bike, and teal, and a kind of blue and orange Naruto-y thing…”

“Anything is fine.” Goro stops. “Except the last one.”

“Red it is! See you in a bit.”

“Don’t ride that bike back to Leblanc,” says Goro, as if lightning might strike twice on the same day on the same man riding the same model bike of the same color, but Akira’s already hung up. Goro speed-drafts a rescheduling email, copy-pastes it to four different people, and then sprints out the office door without even a goodbye to his coworkers.

Friday, 11:16 AM

FUTABA: hey

FUTABA: hey goro

FUTABA: hey gorororororororororo

FUTABA: HEY MR AKECHI KURUSU

GORO: If it’s about the traffic accident, I heard about it.

GORO: I’m going back to Leblanc now.

FUTABA: no it’s smthg else

FUTABA: well it is about the accident but i got smthg else for u

FUTABA sent MOV19.mp4

FUTABA: ripped this from the traffic cam

GORO: Is this footage of the accident?

FUTABA: yeehaw

GORO: …Thank you for the offer, but I don’t know if I want to see this.

FUTABA: ok i hear u but i promise it’s hilarious

FUTABA: and also u might feel better if u see it

FUTABA: like idk what he told u on the phone but like

FUTABA: look the car even slowed down at the intersection

FUTABA: the dude was obeying traffic laws and everything he was doing something like ten under the speed limit

FUTABA: the car ENTIRELY missed akira

FUTABA: got the bike full on

FUTABA: and then he just rolls up across the hood and up the windshield like a looney toon

FUTABA: rip ur bike tho it just goes cronch

FUTABA: instant pretzel

FUTABA: ty bichael for ur sacrifice

FUTABA: also idk i figured you

FUTABA: might wanna see for urself that he’s okay

FUTABA: like u can see him stand up at the end and he’s not even confused or anything he’s super duper ok

FUTABA: he’s not bullshitting u over the phone and pretending he’s ok when he’s not ok

FUTABA: u know how he does lmao

GORO: …Huh.

GORO: He really did land on his feet for a whole second there, didn’t he?

FUTABA: yeah like a cat

FUTABA: it’s nuts tbh

FUTABA: and then he remembers he’s a human and falls on his ass LMAO

FUTABA: show it to morgana i want his professional kitty cat opinion on the matter

FUTABA: rate akira’s near death experience

FUTABA: also the driver was v nice and v apologetic and he gave akira his insurance

FUTABA: but i have his home address and work address and phone number and the name of his dog if you want it

GORO: Just the insurance will be fine.

FUTABA: kk

GORO: …And thanks for sending the video.

GORO: Even though I already knew he was fine.

FUTABA: you know those like

FUTABA: itty bitty teeny weeny micro dogs

FUTABA: that are like four and a half pounds

FUTABA: but they think they can take any mfer on the block out of sheer will alone

FUTABA: and theyve always got their eyeballs bulging out and they pick fights with 70 pound dogs

FUTABA: and they have only two emotions which are rage and anxiety and they shake constantly because theyre only four pounds and they have So Much Emotion and nowhere to put it so they vibrate at the speed of sound

GORO: Is this a metaphor about me.

FUTABA: it’s a metaphor about you

FUTABA: because i can hear your shaky angry anxious four pound vibrating all the way from the other side of tokyo

GORO: You are the smallest, angriest, most anxious person I know, who regularly picks fights with international hacking organizations and billion-dollar companies.

GORO: And I, somehow, am the angry shaky dog.

FUTABA: your husband got hit by a car on ur birthday

GORO: I know that.

GORO: I do not need to be reminded.

FUTABA: ah yeah

FUTABA: sorry

GORO: He’s fine.

GORO: He said he’s fine.

GORO: And from this footage, he’s more than fine.

FUTABA: he is super double extra fine with a side of fine

GORO: Unless this footage was in any way edited.

GORO: And unless he was faking his call, somehow.

GORO: In which case, I’m going to walk into Leblanc and find out that he was just pretending to be okay so he could hear my voice one last time and Leblanc will be swarming with police officers to break the news the newly bereaved.

GORO: But that’s not going to happen.

GORO: Because Akira is fine, and I’m perfectly fine.

FUTABA: im rly glad to hear my man

GORO: This footage isn’t edited, is it.

FUTABA: no

GORO: Are you very sure?

GORO: Videos are easily modified.

GORO: Would you even know if it was edited?

FUTABA: yes im a literal wizard of course i would know

FUTABA: where are u even getting this idea from

GORO: The entire series of events is unrealistic, isn’t it?

GORO: You said yourself that it was almost like something out of a cartoon.

GORO: The likelihood that someone gets hit by a car and comes out of it entirely no worse for wear is practically ridiculous.

FUTABA: i ripped that film straight from the cam it is entirely unedited

GORO: But how can you be sure? Did you see him in live camera?

FUTABA: i mean no but he texted me

GORO: What if that was his dying text.

FUTABA: i rly dont know if his dying text would have been the “i lived bitch” meme with the cat filter

FUTABA: he’s fine dude

FUTABA: that’s why i sent you the video

GORO: I KNOW he’s fine.

GORO: I’m asking if there’s any solid evidence.

FUTABA: THE VIDEO

GORO: I’m going to call him. Brb

FUTABA: so what he can tell you he’s fine AGAIN and you’ll be like

FUTABA: “oh but what if it was secretly a pod person who stole his body after he died tragically after calling me one last time to hear my voice”

FUTABA: he is FINE

FUTABA: like go ahead and call him if u want but

FUTABA: the only person who was gonna edit that footage was me

FUTABA: and if he were dead i would not be functioning enough to be doing any kinda photoshop like that

FUTABA: let alone LIE to you jesus christ!!!!!

FUTABA: god

FUTABA: i pronounce you King Shaky Dog

FUTABA: the tiniest and angriest and shakiest and most anxious four pound goblin

FUTABA: i will reclaim my title tomorrow

FUTABA: for now it’s my birthday gift to you

FUTABA: the title of Shaky Dog allows you to go absolutely apeshit and nobody will judge you

GORO: You know I hate birthday presents.

FUTABA: did you call akira

GORO: I hate birthday presents so much that I will be refusing my title as King Shaky Dog and will henceforth not be going ape shit.

FUTABA: ok so

FUTABA: i didnt mean to

FUTABA: get snippy with you or anything

GORO: It’s fine.

GORO: I wasn’t… exactly polite, myself.

GORO: So.

FUTABA: um

FUTABA: you really can call him if you want

FUTABA: there’s nothing wrong with that

FUTABA: between u and me……………………. i definitely did that more than once for a lot lesser reasons than someone getting hit by a car

GORO: My stop is in less than thirty seconds.

GORO: I will probably live.

FUTABA: lmao ok well

FUTABA: if u change ur mind about losing ur shit then please know i gave u that footage in the first place because i think if something like that happened to MY partner i would mcfreakin lose it

FUTABA: speaking of her

FUTABA: sumi says happy birth btw

FUTABA: but cuter because u know how she is

FUTABA: “happy birthday crow-senpai~~~~~~~~” in her shy voice that makes u wanna die

FUTABA: ofoogofhghhfoghfhhghfh g gh SUMI ur so cute ilysm

GORO: Tell her I said thanks.

GORO: And stop telling me how much you love her and use the ring you made me go ring shopping with you for.

FUTABA: HHHHH

FUTABA: im being cyberbullied for being a cowardly lesbian

GORO: I’m at my stop, by the way, so I’m going offline.

FUTABA: which tbh i probably deserve

FUTABA: oh kk see u

FUTABA: watch the video again mr shaky dog

FUTABA: akira is fine

FUTABA: everyone is alive

FUTABA: you are one year older

FUTABA: happy birthday goro

The bike is totaled.

Akira isn’t the sort of person to dump a piece of trash right in front of Leblanc, but it’s hard to miss sticking out of the nearby public trash bin. The back wheel has exploded into serrated wheel-spokes and limb rubber bits that Akira’s shoved into the trash as best as he could. The body of the bike is crushed in on itself, exposing its sharp hollow innards; the handlebars resemble a badly-tied knot. The front wheel is left to stick up and out, creaking gently, spinning overhead from half a hinge like a head not quite fully severed.

The cafe is empty except for its usual barista who, of course, is a very normal and mild-mannered barista, who has nothing to do with the several hundred millions worth of dollars of repatriated art hiding in the attic en route back to South Korea. That would be illegal, of course, and Akira Kurusu-Akechi has never once in his life done anything illegal in the name of what’s morally right. “Welcome back, dear,” says Akira, and hangs up a coffee mug to dry, and it’s so normal that Goro is convinced that either he’s experiencing yesterday, or maybe he’s re-experiencing the year 2016 all over again, or maybe Akira really is dead and this is just his ghost.

Goro sits in his usual spot at the bar. Same chair, sixteen years later. Unbelievable. Maybe Goro’s giving him a little bit of a dumbfounded look, because Akira tilts his head, leans across the bar, and pecks Goro on the cheek.

“Where’s Sakura?” Goro asks.

“Having his midday old man nap. So,” says Akira, looking pleased with himself, “either we can close Leblanc for an hour and raid the kitchen and make lunch, or we can close Leblanc and go out and have a fancy lunch. Your choice because I already made dinner reservations and we’re doing those no matter what.”

Goro really means to give him an answer, because Akira really does love Goro’s birthday every year and never fails to pick someplace nice for the day, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “Did you ride the new bike back home?”

“Yeah, I did. Figured I might as well take it for a test drive. It’s a good bike.”

“Why didn’t you take the subway?” Goro says sharply.

“Didn’t have my card.”

“You just rode the bike all the way across Tokyo?”

“It wasn’t all the way across Tokyo, just a bit away and back… Goro?”

Ah, Goro’s going to become one of those people who has a meltdown any time their loved one gets on a plane or a train or ksomething else associated with heebie-jeebie nonsense magical thinking. Great. Fantastic. God dammit.

“Do you really want me to go to the ER?” Akira asks eventually.

Goro really wants Akira to have never gotten hit in the first place, but people don’t get what they want and sometimes the universe decides to send one bad fucking driver through a red light and take away Akira’s entire life in a split second—one mistake, a coincidence at the wrong place and time, and the boy who fought God and won is a smear of bones on the pavement.

This would be different if it were sixteen years ago, and Goro had the power to bend people’s minds in half until they broke, or dive into the deepest, bloodiest parts of the collective psyche and pummel the worst of them to a pulp—but what’s he going to do here? Lambast a guy who was going ten miles under the speed limit and just wasn’t looking the right way? Is he going to summon a new Persona from his soul and undo time itself?

Can he do anything if the universe decides, one day, that Akira’s time on this earth is up? He spent all those years desperate for power, and then abusing that power, and then desperately guilty for having abused that power, and then desperately trying to get up that power, and now here he is with the power to do jack shit when his husband almost gets run over and if the Metaverse were still around he swears he would have carved Loki from his own soul out of sheer fury alone—

“No,” says Goro sharply, and stands up. “It’s nothing. I’m not hungry, and I’m going for a walk. Please don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.”

“What—hey! Goro, wait, wait—”

“I’m getting some fresh air!”

Akira’s scrambling to get out from behind the bar. “Didn’t you just get here—?”

Goro spins around and points a finger at Akira like it’s his fault: “You were the one,” he snarls, “who promised, when we got married, that we’d always be together. And now you get hit on a bike, and then stand up like it’s nothing and—and get on another bike and go cycling around the exact same streets where you got hit—? Aren’t you scared? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Akira falls silent. “I didn’t go back to the same intersection,” he says at last.

Goro can’t take this. “I’m taking a walk.”

“Wait wait wait, Goro, just—” Akira grabs Goro’s hand and Goro has the sudden urge to yank his arm away, but Akira’s hand is also incredibly real, just like it felt this morning and yesterday and the day before that and all the days Goro ever took Akira’s living, breathing body for granted. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. He was going, I dunno, twenty miles per hour at most. It was an intersection. He’d slowed down beforehand and everything, and I didn’t even get hurt on the fall.”

Right, because Goro’s the one who’s just freaking out for no reason. Right. Okay. Because that’s how he is, isn’t he, always being dramatic over little things. Right. Of course. This is fine.

When Goro doesn’t turn around, Akira moves around to the front to look him in the eye. “Sorry if I made you worry,” says Akira. “But it was really nothing at all.”

“Maybe it was nothing this time,” says Goro forcefully. “But what about the next time—the next car—the next time you borrow my bike? What about tomorrow? Or the day after that? Literally any one of the hundreds and hundreds of days coming up where you could easily die just as easily as you died today.”

“Then I’ll escape death hundreds and hundreds of times,” says Akira.

Goro scoffs.

“I mean it. I was a Phantom Thief, wasn’t I? I escaped death more than once. Did it again today. I’ll do it as many times as it takes until we’re both old and grey.” Akira takes Goro’s hand, but it’s Goro who laces their fingers together.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work that way,” says Goro, like a bad echo of his ten-year-old self, trying to figure out what kind of world would let his mother die.

“I’m just keeping my promise,” says Akira. “I told you that I’d never leave you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sometimes that’s not your decision to make.”

“It is and I’ve decided I’m immortal until you die.”

Goro scoffs. “Don’t be arrogant.”

“Is it being arrogant? I didn’t let death steal you away from me. I’m not letting it steal me away from you, either.”

“Sometimes…” Goro begins.

“'Sometimes’ what?”

'Sometimes’ what?

Sometimes things get worse. People die early, and unfulfilled; they streak through the sky in a blaze and then wink out, without even a burst of fire to show for it. Sometimes nobody gets a say in what happens, and plans don’t pan out, and wishes aren’t granted, and everything happens for no good reason and no good end.

Today, Goro Akechi-Kurusu is thirty-four years old, about sixteen years older than he ever figured he was going to be. He has a career in a non-profit for maladjusted youth getting reacclimated to school systems and preparing for college, instead of the career in law he figured he’d have if he actually lived that long. He doesn’t just have one friend, but multiple friends. He has, unbelievably, a husband, which honestly still floors him to this day, considering that he was and maybe still is convinced that marriage is a scam devised by asshole men like his father to manipulate young women into a false sense of security. The other day, Akira mentioned that he wanted to get a cat to keep Morgana company, maybe in a few years when they moved into a pet-friendly apartment, and in Goro’s head, it made sense that they would both be alive and together entire years in the future for them to get a cat.

Today is already an impossible day, isn’t it?

“Sometimes,” says Goro flatly, “you say ridiculous things, and I think that you could actually pull it off.”

Akira grins. Akira leans in for their regular greeting kiss when one of them comes home, but this time, Goro closes his eyes, leans into it, really tries to memorize the feel of Akira’s lips on his. Every line and scar on his hands, the odd ends of his fingernails, that familiar way he waits for four beats, then takes a breath through his nose and kisses Goro again, and never can quite seem to avoid kissing him more on the bottom lip than the top. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he says plainly not three inches from Goro’s face. “It’s bad form to leave a calling card and never show up.”

Goro smiles. “Then I won’t let you break your word.”

When Akira pulls away, he kisses the back of Goro’s hand, like a proper gentleman thief of old. “Happy birthday, dear,” he says, and surprisingly, despite the way this awful day started off, Goro thinks that Akira might be able to pull that promise off, too.

#clouis-loumentine #mine #I TRIED RLY HARD TO WRITE YUKAMITSU but it wasnt happening im sry #please take this apology akeshu instead #also yall have no idea how much self control it took for me to write this oneshot instead of #'goro akechi goes bald at age 24 and akira reassures him he still loves him even tho he has shido's hair genes'#honestly i shouldve done that

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lucisfavoritedemon · 5 years

Text

Accidental Attachment

Title: Accidental Attachment

Summary: Imagine being in love with Steve, but being too afraid to tell him how you really feel.

Pairings: Steve x reader, Tony x Platonic!reader

Word Count: 1741

Warnings: Swearing.

A/N: This is written for @propertyofpoeandbucky for Lani’s 2nd Mysterious Writing Challenge. I got a dialogue prompt which will be bolded in the text. This is also my first time writing Marvel. I’m sort of new to the fandom and don’t know a whole lot, but i thought this would be a good challenge for myself. All mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy!

A/N2: I've decided to make this a mini series. Because there is just a lot I want to add to make the title make sense (I will try to keep up with this one).

It had been a long day. I spent most of it training alone. Most people find that weird that I fight with a team yet prefer to work alone. I like the alone time though, it gives me a chance to process things. Be able to think and concentrate. That is until there is an interruption.

“Hey there Y/L/N.” Tony hollered walking in.

“Hey Stark.” I said in the most irritable way possible.

“Look I know today you wanted to be on your own, but you know how important it is to stay fit?”

“Yes. Look I may seem irritable right now, but I didn’t sleep well last night. You know the usual.”

“Yeah. I get that, but you know who could help with that?”

“Absolutely not. You bring him into this and I will end you.”

"I know, but you do realise you have talk to him about this sooner or later right?" Tony gave me a serious look. The most genuine serious look he has ever given me.

"Yes I do. And eventually I will, but right now I have more to focus on than that."

I wanted to change the subject as fast as I could because I know Steve was booked in here in the next 20 minutes. I didn't want to risk being in this conversation when he walked in. I didn't need him questioning us. Or questioning period.

"This is true. I just don't get why you haven't told him yet?"

"Come on. Give me one reason as to why and then I'll leave you alone."

"Because Stark, I don't date selfish, narcissistic, dunderheads."

"Wow I wouldn't want to be the guy on the other end of that conversation." Steve said walking in 5 minutes early.

"Yeah no some guys can just be really full of themselves. And ignorant, and overall just really douchey." I said going to grab my stuff and head out.

"Wait your time isn't up yet? I came in here just to get a head start because I have somewhere to be after this and wanted to get as much time in as I could. Before I had to clean up and head out."

"No, Steve you're fine. I was getting ready to leave anyways when Stark walked in."

"Okay I just wanted to make sure I wasn't intruding on your work out."

I gathered the rest of my things and waved goodbye to the guys before I head back to my apartment.

It was small and hardly big enough for one person, but it was home all the same. I sat my stuff down and went to go wash up. A nice cool shower to help relax me a little before I went on with my day.

As I finished up in the bathroom there was a knock on my door. I dreaded going to answer it knowing that I didn't want to face the outside world just yet. I peeked through the peephole to see who awaited my answering on the other side.

It was none other than Mr. Tony Stark himself. I huffed before opening the door slowly.

"Yes?" I said already irritated, and it clearly showed through my enthusiasm.

"You. Dinner. Tonight." He ordered me.

"In your dreams Stark." I rolled my eyes and went to shut the door when his hand stopped it from closing.

"Nice try Y/N, but it wasn't optional. Plus it isn't a date. I just want you to come over and eat dinner with me and Pepper tonight. We need to discuss what happened earlier anyways because we left things on a bad note."

"Fine. As long as Pepper is there and there aren't any surprise guests." I know how Tony works and if I don't set my boundaries he will apeshit.

"Deal. No surprise guests and no selfish,narcissistic dunderheads. Just the three of us. I got it." Tony joked which was so like him in a situation like this to do.

"Good."

"So, we will see you 6:30 sharp don't be late." Tony ordered before heading down the hall.

"When am I ever?" I yelled to him.

~*~

I felt like something unexpected was gonna happen and I dreaded even wanting to go. But I negotiated and now I needed to hold up my end. Still, Stark seemed so adamant on getting over there for dinner. Red flags were going off all over.

Yeah he would invite me once in a while, but I just went over there last week. It was just off. Yet again, everything about Tony is off, so I really shouldn't be to wary.

I finished getting ready and was getting ready to leave when there was a knock on the door.

'Who could it be now?'

I slumped over to the door and check through the peephole. It was a man in an all black suit. He looked very professional, and I figured he was probably at the wrong apartment.

"Yes? How can I help you?" I asked answering the door, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Are you Y/N Y/L/N? Mr. Stark sent me." The man answered reading a piece of paper, with my name on it, slowly so he wouldn't butcher it.

"Yeah? Did Tony specify why he got me a ride?" I asked more red flags going off in my head.

"He wants you to show up looking your best." The guy said with a smile.

"Okay, let's get this over with." I said rolling my eyes and going to shout my door to grab my keys to lock up.

"Your ride will be downstairs waiting for you." The man said before I shut the door, and he headed down the hall.

"it's just been one surprise after the next with this guy. Tony you better have a good explanation." I mumbled to myself as I went to lock up and head downstairs.

The ride wasn't that bad. He ordered me a small car. It still didn't add up why Tony was doing this though.

The driver pulled into Tony's place and got out to open my door. I don't want to say I enjoyed being a little pampered, but it was a nice change of pace.

"Here you go Miss. Mr. Stark knows you are here. He should be down any second."

"Thank you."

Just as I turned around to head towards the doors, Tony came out and greeted me.

"There she is. Thank you so much for going and getting her for me. I really do appreciate it." Tony said handing the guy some cash.

"Okay I appreciate the ride and everything, but was it really necessary?" I was so skeptical of Tony right now. If I could squeeze out every last piece of information from him I would.

"Look, I don't need you going all flamethrower on my ass, but I wanted to discuss business with you that's all. I knew if I told you that earlier you wouldn't have come over." He admitted, but I still didn't truly believe it.

"Tony? Had you asked me to come over to discuss business I would have been on board. I wouldn't have fought it at all. But the ride made it seem like it was more than that." I said still giving him the look of disbelief.

"Look I know, but I felt it was professional and a bit of an apology from earlier today." He said giving me an apologetic look.

"Okay I forgive you I guess." I said jokingly and cracking a smile.

"Perfect! Now let's head in," he perked up real quick and lead us inside.

There Pepper was adding the finishing touches to dinner and had a bottle of wine popped open on the counter with some glasses. I grabbed a glass and helped myself. After a day like today I need something to calm my nerves.

I couldn't help but think of how horrible I felt calling Steve selfish and narcissistic. He has been such a good friend to me and treating him like is horrible of me, especially behind his back. He was so unsuspecting that the conversation was about him. Maybe tomorrow I could go up to the gym and apologize for my actions. Maybe even invite to go get coffee with me sometime. I don't know. I'm going about this whole thing all wrong.

"Yeah, I'll be right there." I heard Tony say which snapped me from my thoughts.

"Is everything all right?" I asked concerned maybe hoping just a little too much he would cancel this dinner, or postpone it for another night.

"Yeah I just gotta run downstairs real quick. Ieft something there." He said aost stuttering to come up with an excuse, like he was nervous.

I knew he was up to something, but it wasn't till he came back up that I knew what he was hiding.

"And look who has joined us. It's your go ol' pal Steve." Tony said knowing very well he was on my last nerve. This was the last straw.

"Tony Stark! For the last time, I don't date selfish, narcissistic dunderheads. You apparently didn't get that the last time we talked."

There I go and now he is well aware. There goes my chance of ever truly telling him that I really do care about him. I just have a hard time showing it.

"Okay. You two come with me and this isn't optional either." Tony said leading to a set of doors.

He opened them and let me and Steve go first. This was a huge mistake. As I entered the room behind Steve Tony slammed the doors shut.

"Tony Stark you let us out right now!" I demanded banging on the door.

"Not till you two admit to each other how you feel. And you Y/N learn how to control your temper. Sorry I hate to play bad guy, but this is how it has to be."

I heard footsteps walking away. I knew this needed to be done, but I didn't want it to happen like this. Now we were trapped in the same room together till we both admit it. Which is a good thing I guess. Because it means Steve feels the same way. Yet I still felt like I needed to brace myself for the worst.

"So we gonna talk or are you gonna keep facing the door?"

#lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #steve rogers #steve x reader #tony stark

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runaway-train-works · 5 years

Note

15 & 49, but maybe h&l being to fall in love? thank you xx

Criminal AU & Fake Married

***Very slight NSFW***

Harry sighed and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. He could feel himself on the verge of going absolutely apeshit at Louis again and if he did he knew it fall on deaf ears, because Louis is a fucking arsehole at the best of times, never mind when he knows he’s getting to Harry, and Harry doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Louis had left his dirty laundry all over the bedroom again, and there were plates in the sink that Harry point blank refused to clean, and the bathroom, Jesus Christ the bathroom. Harry doesn’t want to think about what he gets up to in there. For a man with not very much body hair he seems to find a way getting it absolutely everywhere, along with God knows what else.

Harry had tried to be nice, for the first couple of weeks at least, had tried to politely ask Louis to pick up after himself but nothing worked with him, he simply continued to behave like a teenager, sitting on his arse all day playing the PlayStation. And he’s twenty five, not fifteen. Or maybe he’s twenty six? Not that it matters, Harry couldn’t care less how old Louis was, he just knew he was old enough to know better.

“Harry?” Louis says from where he is perched on the sofa, eyes glued to the television as he frantically presses buttons on the controller.

Harry stops in the middle of his path to the kitchen holding the laundry basket on his hip to stare at the back of Louis’ head. “For hundredth fucking time you need to call me Alex,” he says through gritted teeth.

Louis doesn’t bother pausing the game or turning round to acknowledge Harry properly. “I don’t see why? We’re in the house? No one is going to hear us in here?”

“Because, Will,” he emphasises, “if we don’t get used to calling each other by our fake names in private, we might call each other our real names in public. Or do you forget how this whole witness protection thing works?”

“Oh darling, how could I forget when you are here to constantly remind me every five minutes.”

He’s might be saying it in the sweetest voice ever, but Harry knows there is no way Louis would mean it. Louis is just as frustrated with this whole situation as Harry is.

As bad first dates go, Louis’ and Harry’s has to be right at the very top of the list for how fucking awful it could have possibly gone. After all, the last thing you would ever expect to happen after swiping right on tinder, is that you walk what you think is going to be your one night stand out of your flat after a horrific date but pretty decent shag, only to witness the armed robbery of the jewellery store across the street by one of London’s most prolific gangsters ever and be sent to the arse end of nowhere together by police to wait for the court case otherwise you might be killed to keep you quiet. Yeah, their first date had been THAT bad.

“Whatever. Why were you calling for me anyways?” Harry asks.

“Can you grab me a beer from the fridge?”

God he really hates him. Harry is saved from answering, and from killing Louis with his bare hands, by the doorbell ringing.

“I’ll get it!” Louis shouts, jumping up from the couch at a speed Harry hasn’t seen in the entire time they have been forced to live together in this sham. “Might be someone that doesn’t do laundry for fun eh?” Louis winks as he darts passed Harry.

Harry carries on to the kitchen and dumps the basket in front of the washing machine before he hear’s his name being called a couple of seconds later. Well, his fake name anyways. He runs a hand down his face and puts on a fake smile and goes to see who it is.

“Honey, this is Megan, one of our new neighbours,” Louis tells him as he walks up behind him and comes to a stop in the doorway. “She’s just telling me about a dinner she is hosting this weekend and wanted to invite us to welcome us to the area. Isn’t that lovely?”

The petite woman with mousy features at the door smiles meekly at them both as Harry grins back at her. “Great to meet you Megan, I’m Alex, Will’s husband.” Harry leans forward, nudging Louis in the process, to shake her hand. “And thank you so much for your offer of dinner. We’ve got a couple of things on this weekend but we will try and make it work.” He has absolutely no intention of going to this woman’s dinner, but doesn’t want to be rude. He places a hand on Louis’ shoulder to keep up the ‘happy couple’ persona, Louis going one further and wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him in to his side.

“Oh that would be great, everyone is so excited to meet you, we’ve never had any gays in the village before,” Megan says excitedly. Harry knows she means well but it’s still a ridiculous thing to say. Where they hell have they been moved to?

“Oh well, don’t believe the papers Megan babes, we’re actually just like normal humans. Only differences being fighting over who takes longer to get ready and we’re also well aware of the benefits of plenty of lube,” Louis tells her. Harry wants to burst out laughing but he bites down on his tongue. Megan’s mouth opens and closes and opens again and she begins to splutter what could be an apology.

Harry shakes her head. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being an idiot. Why don’t I take your number and we’ll give you a call when we know what our movements are?”

She nods and after they exchange details, giving her their landline number in return as they aren’t allowed mobiles, police orders, they wave her off and Louis closes the door.

“You like winding people up, don’t you?” Harry asks Louis as they both collapse onto the sofa side by side. Harry really should put the washing on, but since he’s got nothing to do today, or any other day for that matter for the foreseeable future, it can wait.

Louis glances at him our the corner of his eye. “Only the ones with a stick up their arse.” That was definitely a dig.

Harry mentally groans. He can’t do this, he needs to speak to the police department again and see if they’ll change their mind about keeping Louis and Harry together. Apparently it’s safer and less suspicious for a married couple to move to a remote village, rather than a guy by himself, but Harry can’t take much more of this. He could be stuck with the arsehole for a year before the trial goes a head. Another eleven months of this. At least he’s hot as fuck though. Harry could do worse than have Louis to look at every day.

“I’m so bored,” Louis says after a few minutes of them both lost in their own thoughts.

That’s of no surprise to Harry. Louis tells him he’s bored what feels like fifteen times an hour. “You could do the dishes?” he offers.

Louis rolls his eyes and playfully pokes him in the thigh. “It must be exhausting for you to be so perfect all the time eh?”

“Fuck off, what do you expect me to do? Entertain you?”

“That’s exactly what I want Alex,” Louis grins. Oh God, Harry knows that look. He’s been getting that look twice a day since they got here.

“You want sex again, don’t you?” They fucked this morning, three times, but no matter how many times Harry gets him off, Louis always seems up for more. Harry would be flattered if it weren’t for the lack of literally anything else to do instead. And it’s not exactly a hardship when Louis is the best shag Harry has ever had.

“Finally! I’ve been hinting at it all day! God you are so slow,” Louis tells him as he takes off his t-shirt and throws it on the floor beside him. Harry will very probably be the one to pick it up.

Harry shakes his head but he can’t keep the smile from his face. “You could just ask me you know? Instead of riling me up first every fucking time.”

Louis smirks as he crawls into Harry’s lap and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. “And where, my dear fake husband, would be the fun in that?”

*** I know the anon said for them to fall in love, but in my mind, this would be an enemies with benefits type thing that ends up with them falling in love after they’ve grown used to living together as well as dealing with the repercussions of the crime that happened so kinda half way there? Sorry, I kinda sucked at this one***

#trope mashup #drabble #larry drabble #my drabble #ask #anon ask #im nearly done them all #three more in my inbox #sorry its taking so long!

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futuristicallygayduck · 4 years

Text

That’s Us: Epilogue

Epilogue: It’s Okay

Word count: 6,186

Read on AO3

TW: Simon doesn't feel too good in some parts of this, but it's not even close to the levels of angst of earlier chapters. It's more comparable with the first chapters of Wayward Son.

Now

“Baz?”

“Yes…” I pause, “Simon.”

His smile is blinding and I can’t look away. I don’t have to. I can look at him as much as I want and he’ll just look back, smiling.

My hand is in his. We’ve been sitting with our backs to the wall for what must be at least an hour now. My eyes feel heavy and tired and the dried-up tears make the skin of the cheeks pull. It’s nice, though. We’ve both been miles away, but feeling his skin against mine helps.

“What you said during your speech… about me… having fallen for someone, do you remember that?”

I nod. It was the most nerve-wrecking thing I’ve ever said. I was so terrified it wouldn’t be enough. Luckily, it was for the Coven. It isn’t for Snow.

“Who did you mean?”

There it is.

“Well, if they had asked, I probably would have said Wellbelove.”

“I don’t love her.”

I smile. He doesn’t hesitate. He sounds just as sure as he used to when he would say he did love her. He was wrong both times.

“You do.” And before Simon can interrupt me, “and you love Bunce. And you love Ebb. And the Mage. And Rhys and Gareth a-“

“And you,” he says and my mind feels empty.

“Baz?”

I take a deep breath.

“Sorry. Just… I don’t think I can let myself believe this is all happening yet? Try again later, yeah?”

Simon smiles softly and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. We’re silent for a few moments, but then I remember what I was saying.

“My point is that you’ve fallen for all of… us.” Close enough. “You fell for the World of Mages and all its citizens and you loved us more than you did your own magic. You care so much about everyone, of course that would mean your downfall.”

I pause for a second. I hate how his love takes him down, and I hate how I love all the love he carries with him about him the most. So, I add, “But, please, don’t stop.” “It was my destiny.” Simon says.

“No.” I say. “No. You saved us because you are good and because you are brave and a hero and because you are so full of love. Okay?”

It takes him a second, but then he nods.

“Okay.”

- - - - -

One Year Later

“Simon?”

Baz is home. I know I should feel panicked now, because he’ll know I haven’t left my spot on the couch for hours, but it’s hard to feel anything. Besides, he must have expected it. I didn’t expect him to come back today and I certainly didn’t expect him home this early, but those few hours wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. Not on days like these.

A few seconds after his voice sounds, Baz’s face pops around the door to the hallway. I know he tries to hide it, but the look on his face tells me every question he knows not to ask.

Is it still not over? Did you at least call to let them know you’ll be absent? How long will this episode take? When will this ever end?

He doesn’t say anything though. Rather, his look softens and he moves to the kitchen. I know he’s going to make tea, because that’s what he always does. It’s not as much a tradition as that it has become routine. When he returns to the living room, Baz hands me my mug. It’s always the same one. The one I got as a present from him. It’s painted like an ancient Greek vase, because he’s a nerd. The scene on it is the great warrior Achilles, portrayed as a depressed burrito after Patroklos’ death. That’s Baz’s humour for you. He and Penny say I’m like Achilles. Just a bit down now, but heroic all the same. Baz’s mug has Patroklos on it, because, he says, he is the Patroklos to my Achilles. “I’m smarter, you went apeshit when I almost died, and also… I’m literally dead.” And I love him, I'll add in my mind, but of course he won’t say that. I tried to make a case for him actually being the Penthesilea to my Achilles. Because I realised I loved him the second I (almost) killed him. It’s a discussion we’ve been having for over two years now. Penny refuses to take sides.

“What are you watching?” Baz asks as he takes place on the opposite side of the couch. I shrug. It’s one of the countless cooking shows they broadcast during the daytime. I’m supposed to be at my part-time internship at this local restaurant right now. I started working there during my gap year and when the time came for me to go to uni, I convinced the owner to let me do an internship instead. Luckily, -well for me I guess- he has experience with PTSD himself, so he understands when I get like this and don’t show up. He reminds me a bit of Ebb, which makes me feel guilty for never visiting her, but Baz says she probably understands. Anyway, watching cooking shows and pretending I learn something from them helps quashing my feelings of guilt.

We sit together like this for hours. Baz comments on the stupid mistakes the candidates on cooking competitions make. Through the numbness, I can’t help but feel a little bit proud of the monster I’ve turned him into. When our cups are empty, he gets us a refill.

We’ll be alright. I know that. I wish it weren’t so hard, though. It’s been two years. I thought by now there would be times when I’d forget I lost my magic, but instead it’s more like a gaping hole in my gut that I feel every second of every day. Most days, I just let it wash over me and it won’t take hold of me. But sometimes, like now, the need to fill it and sew it shut becomes so overwhelming that I want to rip out my soul.

But then Penny is there or Baz or both. And they’ll hand me my sad-burrito-Achilles mug and remind me that it’s all okay. They remind me that they’ll cover me in blankets whenever I need them to and that when I can’t stand them that close to me, they’ll cover me in love from a distance instead. It doesn’t solve everything. They can ease a bit of the pain, but only I can mend the wounds. Their presence still helps though. Even when I don’t want it to.

Because by now Baz has gotten me through at least three cups of tea and I have to pee like anything and then I have to get up from my spot on the couch and once I’m up anyway, he’ll ask, “fancy a shower?”

And sometimes I’ll ask him, “wash my hair, please?” Other times I’ll ask him, “will you sit on the toilet and tell me about your classes?” But now I ask him, “play for me?”

And while I turn on the shower and get undressed, Baz gets his violin. And as I step into the bathtub, Baz takes up post in the hallway beside the bathroom door. And as he plays, I concentrate on the music and let the water wash me clean.

- - - - -

Now

“Baz?”

“Yes, Simon?” I can’t wait to get used to the feeling of his name on my tongue.

“Will you help me pack my stuff?”

I can’t believe it’s happening. We’re leaving. First-year me wouldn’t believe me if I told him we’d both make it through. Fifth-year me would believe me even less if I told him how.

I squeeze Simon’s hand before disentangling myself from him and standing up. Crowley, it’s cold up here. I offer Simon my hand. “Of course.”

In reality, Simon doesn’t have a lot to pack, so we decide that he will just pack his stuff, while I start packing mine early out of solidarity. Graduation is still a few days away, but it’s not like I will need most of this stuff. Classes are finished, so the students mostly spend their last days at school roaming around and making memories. There have never been this many secret dorm parties in a single week.

As we work, we talk about everything and nothing. I catch Simon up with the latest Watford gossip and Simon tells me something about living with the Bunces and all their children. Although the stories don’t come easily, the kids do seem to have been a good distraction for him.

We also talk about the future. He tells me he and Bunce have found an apartment in London. Bunce is going to study Political Science, while he is taking a gap year to work, both for money and on his mental health. I tell him I’m going to study Classics and I get another blinding smile from him.

“What?” I ask, I feel a smile creeping up my face.

“Nothing,” he’s still smiling. “I’m just glad you’re going to study something you actually like. I always thought your dad would make you do some business-whatever course.”

“Me too. But apparently, once you’ve passed a certain point of disappointing your father, he just gives up trying to micro-manage your life altogether,” I shrug, “apparently saving your family’s political nemesis’ life is way past that point.”

I’m still smiling, but Simon looks sad.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks. I know that by now I should know he cares, but it still catches me off-guard. I turn away from Snow, back to my closet where I’ve been stuffing clothes in a box.

“We’ll be fine,” I say. “Daphne won’t let him keep me away from my siblings forever.”

I hear Snow stand up and soon his arms are around my waist. He rests his head in the nook of my neck. “I’m sorry, Baz.”

I cover the arms wrapped around my stomach with my own and slip my fingers between his. “Don’t be. I don’t regret it.”

“I know,” Simon murmurs into my skin. “Still sucks, though.”

“Still sucks,” I sigh. For a moment I let myself be held. Then, I turn my face to give him a quick kiss. “Carry on, Simon. Some of us are tired from crying all the time and want to go to sleep.”

“Bossy,” Simon rolls his eyes and lets me go, but not before squeezing me extra tightly and kissing my cheek. My skin burns.

Our conversation turns back to lighter subjects and I tell him I’m going to live in London with my aunt. Neither of us comment on it, but the air feels a bit lighter and a bit tighter with the mutual knowledge that we will be living in the same city.

As I tell Simon all about Keris’ proposal to Trixie last week, I notice he is being remarkably quiet. When I turn around, I see him sitting on his bed, his back turned to me, shoulders slumped. I move around our beds to his side of the room as quietly as I can and hold still at his foot end. At his bedside sit two meagre boxes filled with the few possessions he acquired over the past years. Sitting on the bed, Simon holds a picture frame that is unfamiliar to me. I take a hesitant step forward.

“Can I?” I ask quietly. It puzzles me how he can be so bold in comforting me, while I’m absolutely terrified of coming too close to him.

Simon nods almost unnoticeably and I sit down beside him. He angles the picture towards me. It must have been taken a few years ago. The Simon in the picture looks barely a few years older than the Humdrum did. At his side is Penny, behind them the gates of Watford. He’s smiling. They’re both smiling. Such genuine smiles that it makes my heart ache and I can’t help but smile too. I move to rest my chin on Simon’s shoulder and together we look at the picture.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this one before,” I say quietly.

“I know. I hid it from you and then I forgot about it.”

“Afraid I was going to use it against you?”

“Nah,” Simon says, “afraid you would destroy it.”

Ouch. Fair enough. That does sound like third-year me.

“Sorry.”

Simon lifts his head up and I pull back to watch him smile at me.

“I think maybe we should agree to stop apologizing for the past eight years.”

“Deal,” I say. And we turn back to the smiling faces in the picture. Simon’s thumb softly caresses the frame. I’m not sure he’s aware of doing it.

“I just hope one day we’ll look this happy again,” he says.

“Me too,” I say.

“And that you’ll be in the picture with us then.”

I turn my head and press my lips firmly to his cheek. Suddenly, I’m not too scared of getting too close. I stay right there, just for a few moments, like I’m pausing time. Then I rest my chin back on his shoulder and look at the picture. I imagine myself next to them and I smile.

“Me too."

- - - - -

One Year Later

“Simon?”

“Yes?” I shout back over the sound of the shower. By now, Baz has stopped playing. It’s okay, I’m almost done anyway.

“Do you want me to bring your clean clothes to the bathroom or do you want me to leave them on your bed?”

“You can put them on my bed!” I shout back, and then, “thank you!”

For forcing me into clean clothes and for asking. The shower curtain is opaque, so Baz wouldn’t be able to see me, but I still don’t think I want him that close right now. I’m glad he knows by now how to let me tell him that without actually making me say it.

When Baz passes the door again on his way back, he calls out, “I’m heading back to the living room. Let me know if you need anything.” What he means is: you can go to your room without being scared of running into me, but I’m still here for you.

I don’t answer, but he knows I’ve heard him.

I don’t understand how it is possible to sometimes feel like my body isn’t mine at all and like I’m completely detached from it, while at the same time being so terrified of someone touching me. If the body isn’t mine, why should I care? Maybe that’s what scares me. That if someone were to touch me… if someone were to get that close to me, they’d realise there is nothing inside. A hand glides over skin. They’re both mine, but they’re not.

Feel your body.

A voice pushes through. I hate the voice. It’s my therapist’s and if I could, I’d forget all about the voice, but annoyingly, over the years, it has taken hold of me.

Feel the way the water touches your skin. Feel all the places where it hits your face and your shoulder and your arms and your back. Grab a bottle of shampoo. What does the surface feel like beneath your fingertips? And the material, how would you describe it? Is it hard or soft? Is it supple? Does it feel cold to your skin or warm? Is it wet or dry? Put it down and take something else. What does it feel like…

I hate the voice.

But it does help.

After a few minutes of feeling things, I’m always surprised how calm I have become in the process. Still a bit numb, like there’s a cloud in my head, but at least it’s not as stormy a cloud anymore.

I shut off the shower and wrap myself in a towel. I know Baz said he was in the living room, but that doesn’t stop me from halting at the bathroom door to make sure the coast is clear in the hallway. When I get to my room, the bed is made and the promised clean clothes are neatly folded on top of it. They’re not very different from the ones I wore before: simple trackies and a t-shirt. But they’re clean and they feel fresh against my skin.

As I dress, I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to the far corner of the room. There is a sheet thrown over it, but the shape of my boxes from Watford is still easily distinguishable. Sometimes, I lay awake for hours, looking at them. I couldn’t bear to unpack them when we moved in. What am I supposed to do with all that stuff anyway, I thought. It’s not like I can wear my Watford uniform in the Normal world. But then I got scared of opening them and when I started losing sleep over it, Penny decided to cover them up to get them as out of sight as possible. It helped for a bit and then therapy also helped a bit, but lately I’ve started feeling restless about them again.

“Everything okay?” Baz yells from the living room. I blink a few times, before I yell back, “yes!”

I get finished dressing and walk back to the living room. Baz is on his side of the couch, still dutifully watching people cook on tv. My side of the couch has had a makeover. The cushions have been straightened and there is no sign of my body shape engraved in it. My blanket is folded, but positioned right where I can reach it if I need it. I don’t sit down.

“Baz?”

He looks up and hums.

“Do you think we can unpack my boxes now?” I ask. “The ones from Watford?”

I can see the gears grinding behind his eyes as it takes him a second to catch up. Then he shakes his head as if to wake up from a dream.

“Yes, of course!” He says and he gets up from the couch. “Do you want to do it in your room or here?”

I consider it for a moment. The sound of the television keeps going. He hasn’t shut it off.

“Let’s do it here, yeah?”

“Sure. You want me to help getting them here?”

I almost smile at his awkwardness, but it also makes me sad. It’s like I’ve given him a surprise gift and he doesn’t know if he can accept it or if I’ll take it away from him again if he gets too excited. So, I say, “yeah, sure,” and we walk to my room.

It’s not a big space, so it feels almost dangerous moving around each other to get hold of a box each, but eventually we make it back to the living room. He on his side of the couch, I on mine. The tv is still blaring in the background as we get to work.

“What do I even do with all these old school books?” Why didn’t I think to pack them first, so I wouldn’t have to be confronted with them the second I opened a box? “It’s not like I have any use for them.”

“What do you want to do with them?” Curse Baz for always making me think for myself. I shoot him a look. He’s started folding all the clothes that I just threw in there haphazardly two years ago. I sit back and let myself think about his question.

“I don’t know. Would the school want some extra books for students whose families don’t own a mansion?”

Baz laughs.

“I’m sure they would be very happy with it,” he says with a smile. Then his face turns serious again, “do you really want to give them away?”

I sigh. Damn him.

“No…” I say. “But I don’t want them in sight all the time.”

“Bunce keeps a box with all her schoolwork, you could ask if she could take yours as well?”

“Oh, so, I finally unpack these boxes and then put my stuff in another box?”

“Correct!” Baz says and I can’t help but laugh. Merlin, I feel stupid for procrastinating this for so long. (You weren’t being stupid, I hear a voice say in my head and I can’t decide whether it’s my therapist or Penny or Baz or perhaps all three of them at once. You just weren’t ready.)

I quickly cast aside all books about magic, but I take a moment to flip through my Latin and Greek homework.

“You want this for your studies?” I ask Baz and hold up my translations of Catullus. Baz full-on grins, “I don’t think those should ever see the daylight again.”

I smile and turn back to the papers in my hand. When I read through my translation of the poem on the first page, I can see I didn’t actually do that bad. I just didn’t understand the poem back then. Catullus writes about this girl he calls Lesbia and how in love he is with her. He says that when she smiles at him his voice gets stuck in his throat and his ears ring and his arteries are filled with fire. I think he basically says he dies? It didn’t make sense to me then, but I think it makes sense to me now.

“Simon?” When I turn to Baz, he is smiling and I die a little. It takes me a moment to take my eyes off his face and look at what he’s holding. In his hands is a picture frame that seems familiar. He reaches it out to me and I take it. Two faces, smiling up at me. If there is anything good that could’ve come from these boxes, it’s this.

“You want to put it up somewhere?” Baz asks.

“Yeah,” I nod. “But let’s wait for Penny, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” he says and we sort through the rest of the stuff in silence.

Afterwards, I curl up on my corner of the couch, feet buried in the cushions meeting in the corner. We’re both watching the tv again, but I don’t think either of us is really paying attention.

“Baz?” I ask. He hums. “Why were you home early?”

He looks at me and I reach out across the space between us. He reaches back and I grasp his hand in mine.

I’m not stupid and I’m not that forgetful. There is a reason he came back. I don’t think he was even supposed to come here after class. He does stay over regularly (albeit mostly on the couch), but usually not more than two nights back to back.

Baz watches his thumb stroke mine. “I got a call from Mordie a few days ago,” he says. “Apparently she had an accident a few weeks ago.”

I straighten up, but he squeezes my hand.

“It’s not bad. Just a sprained ankle and what she thinks is going to be a really cool scar.”

I smile.

“But it just makes me so mad that no one told me. And I-“

He pauses for a second. I pull his hand closer to me and press a kiss to it.

“So, I called my dad and then I yelled at him a bunch and he just said he forgot.”

I have to stop myself from squishing Baz’s hand in anger. I know he doesn’t need me to be mad at his dad. I know I could be for the rest of my life, but Penny says my energy is better spent supporting Baz instead.

It’s goddamned hard, though, when there are tears glistening in his eyes. So, I take a breath and I pull on Baz’s hand again, but I don’t reach out to kiss it. Instead I keep pulling until his head is in my lap and my arm is over his chest. It’s remarkable how easy it can be to hold someone when being held is the most terrifying thing in the world.

So, I hold Baz as he tells me about his conversation with his dad and how disappointed he is after all the progress they have made over the past few months. And I hold him as he tells me about Mordelia’s injuries. He tells me about calling Daphne after and crying to her and her apologising and swearing she thought he knew. And then he tells me about Mordie’s latest pranks and how crowded the tube was and how annoying his professor. And we laugh and we cry and we watch people cook on tv.

I hold him through it all.

- - - - -

Now

“Baz?”

“Yes, Simon?” Baz halts on his way to climbing into his bed. He changed in the bathroom while I changed here and now his hair is flowing down his face in waves and it looks softer than ever. I want to smile at his use of my name, but I can’t quite get past the nerves I’m feeling. I’m standing awkwardly in the centre of our room between our beds. I could have climbed into mine before Baz came back and we both know it.

“Could I…” why is this so hard? “Could I stay with you tonight? Just to sleep.”

I know my face must be bright red, but even Baz is looking a bit pink. After a few moments, he recollects himself and he gestures towards the bed. “Yeah,” he says, “yes, of course.”

In a silent dance of unfinished movements and awkward looks, we come to the conclusion that Baz climbs in first and then I join him. Our struggle with blankets and limbs ends with Baz lying on his back and me partly covering his side as I tug my head under his chin. I can feel his heartbeat like this and I’m sure he can feel mine. The covers weigh heavy on us.

“How do you not burn alive with all these layers?” I complain, but at the same time I pull him even closer.

“The window is opened.” I don’t comment on how he could have closed it all this time. “Besides, you know I run cold.”

“Not anymore,” I snuggle closer. “You have me now.”

Baz doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by the way he squeezes my arm that he is smiling.

We lay in silence for a bit, our breaths syncing. Knowing this is probably the last time I’ll ever be in this room is equally crazy to me as the fact that I am here at all. A few months ago, I’m sure no one would have expected I’d ever return. I knew I had to be here, though. Partly for Baz, but in reality, I could have met him anywhere. Mostly, I knew I needed the closure. This is where it all started and I would have regretted it forever if I didn’t finish it here too.

“So, I guess it was you who lost in the end, wasn’t it?” Baz murmurs. And before-Simon would have interpreted it as a boast or a jab, but right now I know exactly what he means.

“I don’t know. I guess?” And then, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

I try to find the words to explain it. Baz waits patiently.

“It’s just… I mean, obviously I lost a lot. I wouldn’t say I’m not a loser in all this. But it also feels like I won some things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… it’s just that I’ve always been so lost in life, yeah? Nobody knew where I came from or what I was supposed to do, least of all me. But I never had a future either. If you wouldn’t kill me in some war, it would have been the Humdrum or some creature the Mage would make me fight. And… sorry, it feels as if I’m rambling.”

Baz chuckles, “I can’t say I’m entirely following, but keep going.”

Use your words, he doesn’t say and I smile.

“Okay, so, I think this is what I mean: I think everyone is lost in life. I mean, we get here and then we just… have to figure it all out or something? And then you lose stuff along the way and you gain some. And sometimes it sucks and sometimes it’s great, but you keep moving forward to fight for what’s to come? A happy life, with more losses and more gains. But I was never allowed to have a future, so then what do you fight for? It was like all my successes wouldn’t mean anything because I’d only get to enjoy them for so long. And, I mean, of course, that goes for everyone, because we all die in the end. But knowing that everything you achieve you’ll only get to enjoy for a few years doesn’t make for a great motivation to keep going. So, I was always searching for reasons to try.”

“That’s why you couldn’t let go of Wellbelove.”

I nod. “Yeah. And I think the reasoning behind that made sense. Because, as I said, we all lose in life. But it’s infinitely more worth it, when we get to share life together. Because then life and everything you win and everything you lose becomes this beautiful path of learning and growing and sharing and loving. And I still want Agatha to be a part of that journey for me, but not in the way I thought I wanted her to. I used her to give myself a sense of purpose and that’s not how it works.”

“What’s the difference?”

I think for a second. “Well… sharing life and learning together and needing other people is different from depending on them and expecting of them that they will make your life worthwhile for you. But anyway, I think all this time I felt like I was inherently robbed of the opportunity to live. So I got all the crappy stuff of life, without also getting the good stuff. And even though my father died and my mum is gone and I lost my magic, I now get to have a future. And I’ll get to lose more and win more and just… live, y’know?”

When I look up at Baz, he looks like a mess.

“And then I also get to share all that with Penny and with Agatha and, if you’ll have me, with you.”

Baz reaches down and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“I’ll have you.”

I turn my head to kiss the palm of his hand. We look at each other and it feels like time stands still. How could I have ever thought I felt anything towards him that wasn’t love?

“So, yeah,” I continue eventually, “I’d say I did lose. And I’d say you lost too. And I’d say we’re going to lose a whole lot more someday. At the very least death is an inevitable loss, even for immortal vampires -when climate change sets the planet on fire, you’re going down,” I feel Baz chuckle beneath me. “But what we win is that we get to experience it all. The good and the bad and the everything in between. And if we’re lucky, we get to experience it together with people we love.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” I say. “So, really, I’d say that if we are losers at all, then we’re the most beautiful ones out there.”

The smile I receive is blinding.

- - - - -

One Year Later

“Simon?” Bunce yells from the hallway, and then, once she’s burst through the door, “and Baz, apparently!”

My head is still in Simon’s lap, the floor still covered with school books and Watford clothes. She doesn’t comment on the mess on the ground, instead looking to me for an explanation. All I manage is a smile to let her know we’re okay. If it were a good day, she’d come over to give us both a hug. On a bad day, she’ll just smile and keep her distance. Today, Simon reaches out his hand to her and she grasps it, finger slipping between his.

When she lets go, she takes a seat on the floor in front of us and takes another look at Simon’s old stuff.

“So, what is this all about?” She asks. I look up at Simon, but the look he gives me tells me he wants me to respond.

“We figured it was about time we’d unpack those last boxes.”

“About time,” Penny echoes, deep in thought, and she reaches for the framed picture on the floor. Simon and I watch her look at it for a while. From my point of view on Simon’s lap, our eyes are at a similar height and I can see hers trace the faces on the picture on by one. She smiles. After a while, she raises her eyes back to us.

“So, what are you going to do with all this stuff?”

“I don’t know,” I respond and I look at the Simon. “Simon?”

He scans the items on the floor and the picture in Penny’s hands. “I think I’ll keep it. Maybe get some of it out of my sight, though. Baz said you have a box where you keep your old school books?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Bunce answers, “Do you want to clean it up now?”

“Maybe later,” Simon says, “but I do think we should put that picture somewhere.”

I can’t help but smile and I can see Penny smiling and out of the corner of my eyes I can see Simon smiling and all three of us are smiling and maybe we’re okay.

“Okay then, where do you want to put it?” Bunce gets up and with one hand holding the picture she reaches the other out for Simon to take and pull himself up on. She doesn’t let go of his hand and neither do I, so we wander the apartment, the three of us, hand in hand.

We unanimously decide against either bedroom, as we all want to be able to go see the picture at any time. The bathroom is the next one to go, since that just doesn’t do it any justice at all. We keep wandering the place until we find the right spot. It’s going to take way past dinner time if we do this now, but I still take the time to get the drilling machine and put the photo up.

After, we cook dinner together and eat under candlelight and our awful collective music taste. Even though Simon mostly keeps silent, Bunce and I make jokes about day to day life, about the news, about celebrities, about anything. Simon rolls his eyes at an argument Bunce and I end up having over some random subject and then Bunce and I roll our eyes at Simon when he argues we should just shut up and bake him scones to compensate for boring him to death.

Of course, we do end up making the scones and Simon ends up helping, because Crowley knows he doesn’t trust us with anything in the kitchen. So, while Simon stirs the batter, Bunce and I hold a dancing and singing contest to the music and I can’t help but smile brightly when I notice even Simon slightly nods his head to the beat.

Once the scones are finished, we all collectively decide we deserve to skip our homework for the night and watch some thoughtless movie instead.

I don’t really register much of what’s happening on the screen. I do, however, register the smell of Simon’s freshly washed hair, as he lays with his head on my chest, watching the screen. I do register the sight of Bunce tapping along with the soundtrack of the film on Simon’s legs that he has thrown over her lap. I register the feeling of our chests rising and falling together. And I do register this little taste of happiness that I have right here.

And I think that Simon may be right. I think of the picture, which we decided to hang in the hallway, so that the second you open the door, you’ll be greeted by smiling faces. You’ll be greeted by the people who make this little apartment the home it is. And then I think that that is exactly what this is. Home.

I’m home. In Simon’s home. Simon is home. And Bunce is too.

And I think that I understand what Simon meant. There will always be the inevitability of death and hurt in life. There will always be moments in which we lose. But lying here with Simon’s head on my shoulder, Penny’s legs over mine, and Simon’s over hers, I can see that it’s all worth it.

If we’re always going to be doomed to lose, just because that is the way life is, then this is the most beautiful way to do it. Surrounded by people you love, getting to experience this beautifully broad spectrum that is living and feeling and loving. Together.

If this what losing is, then I can say that we are the most beautiful losers of all.

Yes.

That’s us.

Thank you for sticking with me through all this. <3

I could write pages on every little thing I put into this story, but I hope most of them have come across without me telling you about any of it. There are, however, still some things I feel I do have to say: 1. I headcanoned Baz with a heartbeat pre-WS and Rainbow can pry it from my cold dead hands :'( 2. You can find a picture of burrito-Achilles right here: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CgRXmuPUkAAsss-.jpg 3. Penthesilea was an Amazonian who fought on the side of the Trojans. When Achilles stabbed her through the heart and pulled off her helmet, they instantly fell in love as they locked eyes, but obviously it was too late. Find a pic here: https://www.ecosia.org/images?q=achilles+and+penthesilea 4. The poem of Catullus quite literally rips my heart out everytime I read it. Even more so because it is based on a poem of Sappho. Wikipedia here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catullus_51 5. I used the word 'loser' here as meaning "a person who lost something/at something". It's the closest translation to 'verliezer' I could find, but in Dutch it doesn't have that additional layer of being a word commonly used to define a person as... 'not cool', I guess? In Dutch we just use the English word for that haha. But anyway, I hope the extra layer in English doesn't make it confusing. 6. It was quite the struggle to convey what the song means in the story and I'm still not 100% sure I got it right, so if you have any questions or just want to talk to me about this whole fic in general, you can always find me here on Tumblr @futuristicallygayduck or @pauladelaula :)

Again, thank you all, you are all angels. <3

#snowbaz #snowbaz fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #my writings #my writings: that's us #I really hope you guys enjoyed this #Thank you for reading #and thank you for all the lovely comments you have sent me on the previous chapters #they occasionally drove me to tears #and it's for you guys that i never gave up on this story #even if it took me almost three years to finish it #its been a good ride

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