#Dabs Andrews
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My favorite noir movie - “Laura”. The theme sons, by David Raksin, is hauntingly beautiful.
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Nico is going to be smote by Hermes.
As he trudges through the muddy lake water, seething, he weighs each elaborated murder he has planned for each member of Cabin Eleven against how harshly Hermes will punish him for it. Connor will be flayed alive. Travis will be cooked over an open flame. Julia will be strapped to a rocket and blasted into the sun. Alice will face death by a thousand paper cuts.
And Cecil.
Fucking Cecil.
Cecil Markowitz will face a death so tortuous and harrowing that the constraints of the crime cannot be adequately covered in any mortal tongue. Crucified is too light a term. Nico is going to kill him in a way that is unspeakable — to hell with Hermes and his wrath. Nico is going to smite his dumbass children himself, and it will be worth it.
His boyfriend waits for him, lips pressed together and eyes trained to the sky, on the dock, holding several towels.
“Say nothing,” Nico hisses, slamming his sword on the wood and dragging himself up after it.
“Wasn’t going to,” Will lies. He immediately begins to cough, face turning slightly red. “Well, if I were to say anything —”
“William,” Nico warns.
“I just mean to say,” he soldiers on, setting all but one of the towels down, “that you look —”
He cuts himself off with a quickly smothered giggle.
“I swear to all that is fucking holy, Son of Phoebus.”
He lets Will maneuver him about, towel turning almost black with all the mud it’s absorbing off Nico’s clothes. He has to move on to another towel once he’s finished just Nico’s arm, dripping the soaked towel with a wet plop.
“It’s not that bad.”
Nico stares at him, deadpan. In fact he has to swipe pond scum out of his eyes and hair to glare properly.
“I am the fucking Creature of the Black Lagoon, Solace.”
Will bites his lip, hard. A burst of laughter escapes anyway, heedless of his desperate attempt to smother it, and the worst part is that it’s gorgeous and it makes his eyes light up and his stupid face looks stupid divine, when he’s giggly about something, and it makes Nico want to crush him a little. In the facial region, with his own face.
Except his own face is covered in stinky lake mud.
And Will is laughing.
Hard.
“I mean,” he manages around giggles, holding up a new towel to dab at Nico’s face, “it brings out your eyes, honestly.”
Nico closes his eyes. He lets that sit for a moment. He exhales for ten solid seconds.
“William Andrew.”
“It does! I mean, it’s really the perfect shade —”
“Romance is actually, genuinely dead.”
“— makes them look very deep, actually —”
“I should’ve listened to Demeter and married a doctor.”
“— and lake mud has so many uses! Most of the microbes on you are excellent for the skin. Who wouldn’t want to be compared to lake mud?”
“Oh wait! That is useless advice.”
“And you didn’t even pick up any leeches! Just all this dark, beautiful lake mud, as brown and beautiful as your eyes —”
“I’m returning you to whatever lab you were created in. Obviously you’re defective and I want a new model.”
“— in fact I’ll write a haiku about it.” He clears his throat. “My boyfriend is so hot —”
“Enough,” Nico interrupts, slapping his semi-clean hand over Will’s motormouth before things get any worse. Unfortunately the mud still caked into the lines of his skin contrasts beautifully with Will’s sparkling eyes, making them even bluer somehow. That’s a felony. “Also, that’s six syllables, dumbass.”
“I’ll revise,” he shoots back, muffled.
“If you promise not to, I’ll move my hand.”
Will presses a kiss to his palm because he’s a sappy loser who knows exactly what he does for Nico’s heart problems, based on the wiggle of his stupid perfect eyebrows.
“Deal.”
Nico removes his hand slowly. He lifts it back up when Will opens his mouth, threatening, but luckily he changes course before Nico has to make good on the threat, leaning down to kiss Nico softly, properly.
“I’m crucifying your best friend,” he mumbles against his lips. “That is step one of a ten step torture process.”
“‘Kay.”
“His siblings, too.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hermes might grind me to dust, after.”
“Trying really, really hard to focus on something right now, babe.”
“Right,” Nico breathes. There is still mud drying onto him and it is the Worst, actually, and he still has several homicides to play out, but.
But.
He can spend a little time kissing his boyfriend first.
(As long as that will keep him from spouting any more damn haikus.)
#dramatic nico my beloved#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo/will solace#nico/will#will/nico#solangelo#established solangelo#fluff and humour#dramatic nico di angelo#flirting#my writing#fic#100 ways#100 ways to say i love you#longpost
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Kisses with Isaac
As an apology for my last two Isaac posts, anddd because @mitsukitsume requested this, here's the Isaac version of that mini Andrew fic I wrote!
Hope you guys like it! Muah🫶
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“How on earth did I end up in this situation?” Isaac sighs heavily.
Really, how did it all start? Let’s just say Isaac’s biggest mistake was getting you a phone and access to social media. Sure, you didn’t have an account, to be untraceable and whatnot, but that didn’t stop you from finding the cutest trends! Some of which require the help of a second party and who better, rather who else, to call but your dear knight in business attire?
“Stop being a big baby, if anything, this is your fault for getting me a phone.” You laugh at his whining.
You have him seated at the kitchen island, the lipsticks he purchased for you neatly lined up next to him.
It’s a habit of his, if you mention liking something it’ll be yours within a few days. So, when you mentioned your interest in lipsticks, he was up and browsing the internet for the best ones. Unfortunately for Isaac, and his lack of make-up knowledge, the most expensive isn’t always the best. That didn’t mean you appreciated them any less. You never purchased the ones you actually wanted and continued to use the ones he got you. So far you’ve acquired a collection of overpriced, luxurious lipsticks that could’ve easily been duped, and somehow, they mean the whole world to you. Isaac didn’t care about the price one bit. He thinks his lover deserves the best, and he’ll continue to spoil you with lavish gifts.
“Annnd you bought me the lipsticks too.” You stuck your tongue out, mocking him.
“Maybe I’ll stop treating you to gifts then.”
“WHAT? That’s not what I meant!”
He laughed at your reaction, the way your hand paused mid lipstick application with a wide-eyed expression on your face. Of course, he didn’t actually mean it, he’d spend all the money in his bank account on you if you asked him to.
“You just love pulling my leg, don’t you?”
“Hmmm maybe I do.”
“Wowww so mean.” You roll your eyes at him.
He doesn’t respond, just watches quietly as you apply the prettiest red colour to your lips.
“You ready?
“Do I have a choice?”
You kiss him on the cheek, leaving behind a crimson stain. “Of course not.”
Despite complaining, he’s sits still for you. His face became warmer, and his brain was melting like ice cream in the hot summer sun. Maybe it's the pent up tension from before you established a relationship. From all the times he held himself back from holding you, and now the effects of simple kisses are much more potent.
Kiss after kiss, you covered his entire face red with marks in the shape of your lips. And kiss after kiss, the more his heart rate increaded.
“Are we done yet?”, he mumbles.
“Mmm hold on a bit I need you looking the prettiest for me.”
He sighs, a silent protest but he still obeys.
With a few final kisses, you’re satisfied with your work. You take two steps back to admire your creation, but you don’t quite get to.
“Isaaaccccc you gotta look at me!” You drag and pulled your phone from your pocket.
Isaac simply cannot face you, he’s the most flustered you’ve ever seen him as he stares off to the side.
“God, how did you even convince me to do this?” He reluctantly lifts his head to look up at you, bashful and embarrassed.
You tried your best, you really did but you couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your throat. You held onto the kitchen counter for support, doubled over desperately trying to catch your breath.
“This is NOT funny, Pickle.” He rolls his eyes, and suddenly it’s even funnier.
“I’m sorry-“, you say between giggles, “I really am!”
“Well you sure don’t look very sorry to me” He raised an eyebrow, annoyed by your display. “Fine then, if you want to play, let’s play”
He pulls you towards him by the waist, taking you by surprise, and presses his cheek onto yours, dabbing the greasy splotches of red on you as well. He drags his face against yours until you’re both coloured red and the marks are all ruined.
“Nooo! You ruined it”
“You started this Pickle.” He says smugly, clearly proud of himself.
“Now we look like red smurfs, or I don’t know demons or something?” It’s your turn to complain.
“Then you might just be the most gorgeous demon I’ve ever seen”
“Really? You’ve seen other demons before?” You reply sarcastically.
“Stop being such a smartass”
His arms are still securely wrapped around your body, and he uses it to his advantage, pulling you close to kiss you. A proper kiss this time, a longer kiss to make up for how much you teased him. A desperate kiss to make up for the times he couldn't kiss you so freely.
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Cause of Action 1
Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.
Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.
Part of The Club AU
As you near the concrete steps of the brick front building, a pair of officers emerge from behind the heavy doors. You wait at the bottom as you watch them descend, curious as to their unexpected appearance. Your eyes flick up the small metal placard beside the entrance; ‘Barber & Associates’.
You suppose it wasn’t very unlikely to find the police there on a given day, however you didn’t think this office handled criminal cases. At least it didn’t seem like it when you filled out your application. You don’t put much thought into it, you’re an intern. You’re there for the summer to get some cred on your resume.
You’re completely unnoticed as the cops cross the pavement to their cruiser. You hop up the steps, careful not to trip on your heels. You’re not the best on stilts but you wanted to seem professional.
There is no elevator and so you're forced up the winding staircase. You’re out of breath as you reach the top and you stop to collect yourself. You dab away some sweat with the back of your hand and blow out your nerves.
You approach the door propped open along the hallway and peek inside. There are three desk but only two with occupants. You wonder if the empty one is yours. You try not to be presumptuous as you meekly step into the doorframe.
“Um, hi,” you say in the crisp silence, “um, I’m looking for Andrew Barber.”
“Ah, the intern,” the woman mutters and tosses a look at her coworker.
The man lifts the receiver of his phone and hits a button. You wait awkwardly at the threshold. He speaks into the phone, “sir, your intern has arrived.” He hangs up and doesn’t say a word to you.
You fidget awkwardly and look at the woman as she looks ready to fall asleep on her keyboard. Well, this a very welcoming place. You inch inside, not too far, as you fear you might be reprimanded for intruding.
A door opens and you look over as another man appears. He wears a dark blue suit, tugging at his cuffs as his eyes meet yours. He gives a friendly smile and offers a hand as he crosses towards you.
“You must be…” he says your name.
“Mr. Barber,” you shake his hand. His grip is strong, his skin slightly rough, a warmth radiating from him.
“Nice to have you. Welcome to the office,” he says, “I’m sure you’ve met our law clerks; Marnie and Taylor,” he gestures towards the figures sat at the cubicles. They look over but say nothing. “Sorry about them, police dropped in and it makes the place a little tense. The other partners are at the courthouse so I’ll have to introduce you tomorrow.”
“Ah, okay,” you fold your hands together, “um, thanks. I’m excited to get started.”
“First, the tour,” he says gaily, “this is the office,” he looks around with a grin, “you can claim that desk. Recently vacated. Conveniently, actually.”
“Right,” you go forward and put your bag on top of the barren desk.
“And if you follow me, I’ll show you the kitchen, or break room, what have you.”
“Sure,” you turn back and follow him around the cramped space, “bathroom,” he points to a door as he passes, “and in here, we have a full set-up. Fridge, microwave, toaster oven, coffee maker… do you like hazelnut coffee?”
“Uh, hazelnut?” You sputter in surprise.
“Yeah, I have a few extra pods if you’re interested.”
“Oh, thank you, but uh, no, I’m not a hazelnut person.”
“Really,” he puts his hand on his hip, “hm. I didn’t realise it was such an acquired taste.”
“Is it?” You chuckle nervously.
“Anyway,” he drops his hand and flutters his fingers behind you, “I’ll take you through all the first day paperwork and then you can get settled in.”
“Alright,” you agree and back out of the kitchen, waiting for him to pass before following him. “Can I ask… I guess it’s none of my business, never mind.”
He leads you into his office, standing with his door on the handle as he waits for you to enter, “wondering about the police?”
“A little,” you admit as you scratch your neck.
“They’re asking around. Up and down the block it seems,” he shuts the door and points to the empty chair in front of the desk, “guess someone went missing.”
He goes around and sits in the leather chair, rolling it forward as he picks up a pen.
“Really?” Your brows rise in shock, “oh, that’s horrible.”
“Well, you know, I’ve dealt with a few missing persons cases when I worked for the attorney’s office. Typically if the person isn’t found within the first day, they aren’t… alive,” he hesitates. “Not to be cynical, it’s just the way it is.”
His face drops as he spins the pen between his fingers. He looks suddenly drawn and sniffs, scratching his beard as he leans his elbow against the armrest. He is younger than you expected but still much older than you. His hair is thick and combed neatly, his suit pressed and well-kept, a silver clip on his tie. He is entirely put together.
“It’s sad,” you agree grimly.
“Apparently it was a young woman, much like yourself,” he continues, “so maybe you should be careful. If you want, I can walk you to your car. Or the bus stop.”
“Oh, that’s so nice,” you smile, “I think it’s fine.”
“Can never be too safe,” he points the pen at you, “anyway, the sooner we start, the sooner we’re done.”
He shuffles through some papers on his desk as you sit patiently, squirming as a rolling chill rises up your spine. You think about the faceless girl, the police coming down the steps, the matter-of-fact way Mr. Barber spoke about it. It all seems so…apathetic.
#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#cause of action#drabble#series#au#the club#defending jacob
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Lavender - Ch. 22
An explosion in the QZ throws everything into chaos. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-21 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Depictions of injuries. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only
Length: 3.6k
“Stay here.”
Andrew’s hands were on your shoulders, holding you in a chair in the break room. You were having a hard time making your eyes focus.
“We need to clean up the exam room,” you tried to stand up but he held you down.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “You don’t need to do that, you stay here, I can stay at yours or you can stay at mine tonight but just stay here for now, OK? Just stay put, don’t do anything crazy…”
He kept looking back at you as he left the room, like he was waiting for you to do something unhinged. But you stayed put.
It was deafeningly silent, too far away from the exam rooms to hear the bustle of the work being done. The drone of the florescent lights ate at you. You could hear it mixing with your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the drone of life and light making your skin crawl.
Every time you blinked you saw the echo of McCarthy’s broken body behind your eyes. There was so much blood, so much damage…
Oh God, that much damage.
You were moving before you even really thought about it. It wasn’t something you really considered, you just went to grab an emergency trauma kit and went to the front.
Marta was at the desk. She said something to you but it didn’t register.
“Tell Andrew I’ll see him later.”
Your voice sounded oddly dead and far away, like you were underwater. You didn’t wait for her to respond.
Once you were on the street, you started running. You usually avoided running in the QZ. For the last few years, running had been viewed as a sign that you were doing something wrong and grounds enough to be taken into custody and questioned but you were past the point of caring.
You reached Joel’s apartment in record time.
***
Joel wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Tommy was out on a date.
He didn’t want to answer any questions and he knew he’d ask them. He didn’t want to say anything to anyone. But being alone felt almost dangerous. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drown the images in his mind or live in them. You’d suffered them, it felt like he should, too. If he hadn’t left you, it never would have happened…
There was a quiet knock at the door. He frowned.
“Fuck off, Tess,” he said, just loud enough that he knew she’d hear. Part of him knew he should feel bad for saying it but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d deal with it later.
“Not Tess,” your voice was soft. “Let me in, Joel.”
He threw back the rest of the shitty whiskey he was drinking. You were about the only thing that was going to make him move. He opened the door.
Your eyes were rimmed in red and there were spots of blood on your skin.
“What do you want?” He asked. He’d meant it to sound sharp but it hadn’t.
“I have a suture kit and wraps,” you said.
“Don’t know what…” he began but you cut him off.
“Yes you do,” you said quietly. “Let me in, Joel.”
He knew he should say no but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to leave. He stepped aside and you came in. You were standing so close to him, gently taking his hand in yours as he closed the door. You turned it over in your fingers, frowning as you did.
“Have to clean you up first,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Any… defensive wounds I should know about?”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Hands are it,” he said.
You nodded, leading him to the kitchen. You silently started the water, warming it up as you opened your bag, pulling out the tools you would need. You washed your hands first before leading his under the water. He winced as you gently cleaned his wounds, skin split open to the bone over his knuckles. Once you were satisfied with the water, you opened a small bottle of alcohol.
“This is going to sting,” you warned, glancing up at him. He just nodded. You dabbed it on with gauze and he clenched his teeth to stay silent. You led him to the table after that, sitting him down where the light was best before pulling up a chair close to him. Your legs were between his own as you delicately looked over his mangled skin. He was reminded, for a moment, of the night he’d picked you up from your bad date, more than a decade ago, back in Austin. How he’d held your injured wrist in his hand, taught you how to throw a punch to help keep yourself safe, how you’d fallen asleep against him in your sundress with cherries on it. Your toenails were red and there was a ribbon in your hair. You smelled like lavender.
“You need stitches,” you said, not looking up from his hand. You held his palm, your hands enclosing his own. “Open and close your fingers for me?” He obeyed, wincing. You nodded. “You have a boxer’s fracture, too.”
You went through the bag and pulled out packs of what you would need. You put on clean gloves before gently rubbing a cream into his injured skin. He tried not to wince.
“Don’t have local anesthetic with me,” you glanced up at him. “But this will help with the stitches.”
You swabbed some orange shit over his skin and got out the needle and thread. You looked up at him again.
“Try to hold still for me, OK?” You didn’t wait for a response, just starting in on his hand. He hissed as the needle pierced his skin but he didn’t move.
“How did you know?” He asked after a few moments of watching you work.
“He was’t quite dead yet,” you sounded distracted. Joel winced. “They brought him to the clinic. I tried to save him but…”
“I’m sorry,” Joel said quietly. “You shouldn’t have seen that. Thought I’d finished him.”
You sewed again for a moment.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Joel,” you said. Your voice cracked.
“He hurt you,” he watched you.
You took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
“I should have done it 12 years ago,” he said. “But I wasn’t there. Just took care of unfinished business.”
You were nearing the end of the sutures.
“You never told me,” he said.
“Never told anybody,” you replied, tying off the last stitch. You looked over his hand for a moment.
“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly. You looked up at him, his hand still gently clasped in yours.
“No,” you said. “Not mad. Just worried. You’ll need to lay low for a bit with these injuries, they’re going to be looking for whoever did this…”
“Plenty of people with beat up knuckles in the QZ,” he said.
“Yeah but yours are the only ones I’m really worried about,” you replied, pulling wrap and tape out of your bag.
You wrapped his hand, securing it in specific places.
“That should help with the fracture,” you said, sitting back in the chair. “You’ll need to keep it wrapped for at least two weeks.”
He took his hand back, testing it before he looked at you. It was the first time that he’d looked at you since he’d come to the QZ and thought you looked anywhere close to your age. Maybe it was because you weren’t as bright as you normally were. You weren’t smiling. Instead, you looked worn. But your face was still soft instead of hard, your eyes still warm instead of cold.
“Why did you come here?” He asked.
“I needed to see if you were OK,” you fidgeted with the end of your braid. “I saw… He was in bad shape. Even if it wasn’t a fight, I knew you’d be hurt too and I wanted to make sure you were alright. And I…” you turned your eyes down toward the table. “Wanted to be with you.”
“You weren’t supposed to know,” he said eventually.
“I know,” you nodded slowly.
He watched you for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. You frowned. “For what he did to you. That I wasn’t there to stop him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve…”
“It’s OK, Joel,” you said quietly. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. It took me a long time to know that but it’s true.”
You looked at the clock on the wall over Joel’s shoulder.
“I should go,” you said. “It’s close to curfew…”
“Stay,” he said quickly. “If you want. I just… Would like to be close to you. For tonight. If you’ll let me.”
You considered him for a moment.
“OK.”
He gave you a t-shirt and you showered before you climbed into bed with him. You were wearing his clothes, in his arms, undoubtably leaving your hair in his shower. He ran his injured fingers over your skin, from your temple to your chin. Your hand rested on his chest. It was the closest he’d been to you in years. It was the closest he’d felt to another person in even longer.
“Why did you do it?” You asked quietly.
He could barely make out the shape of your face in the dark.
“He would have hurt you again,” he said. “Failed you once with him. Couldn’t let it happen again.”
“You didn’t fail me, Joel,” you said. Your voice was soft, like if he ran his fingers over it he’d want to be wrapped in it, held in it.
You curled your legs into yourself and he pulled you closer, so your body was tucked into his legs and torso. He trailed his broken hand through your damp hair. Being this close to you again was disconcerting. It was comforting, feeling you breathe against him, your warmth so close. But the proximity hurt, like someone had cracked him open. He was raw and vulnerable and it made his stomach twist. It made him think of things he didn’t want to think about.
Before he could decide better of it, he spoke.
“Do you ever think about them?” His voice was quiet. He could tell by your breathing that you weren’t asleep yet but he almost wished he was wrong.
“I try not to during the day,” you said after a moment. He could feel your breath on his skin. “But at night, I can’t help it. Sarah’s easier. I know what she looked like and sounded like. I can hear her joking about things sometimes. The other is harder… but they always look more like you than me. Your hair, your eyes. Sometimes your dimple or your nose. I can never really see them past maybe toddler age, though. I can’t see them become their own person, I have no idea what that would be.”
“Seems like the harder I try not to think of her the more I do,” he said quietly. “It’s… harder, when you’re close. You and her…”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“I just keep thinking, what if it were different,” he said. “If I…”
“We don’t know what would have happened,” you cut him off. “It may not have made a difference. It may have been worse. I think you’re imagining the best case scenario, that if you’d just had control, it all would have been OK. But so many people died or were turned… we just can’t know. Maybe we’d all be dead now. Maybe Andrew and Tommy, too, because they were trying to live without our help. Maybe this was the best outcome we could get. You can’t go through life blaming yourself for not doing something that could have just been impossible. You deserve better than that.”
He didn’t say anything. He just held you as your breathing shifted into the comfortable, familiar cadence of sleep. He let himself hurt, the ache in his broken hand barely registering in comparison. He let himself feel. He let himself fall into your closeness until it all blended together and he couldn’t disentangle it until he fell asleep beside you, too.
***
Wednesday, June 17, 2015 - Two Months Later
You hadn’t seen Joel since the morning you’d woken up beside him, so seeing him when making a pickup at a FEDRA building shocked you. You just weren’t expecting him.
Joel was already awake when you drifted back into consciousness that morning. You’d slept well. Far better than you’d expected. The night before had been nothing but nightmares from the outbreak, shocking awake every few hours not entirely able to remember what had you so terrified, only that you heard Jessica’s voice or had counted pinecones over your head. But sleeping next to Joel, you knew you were safe. You could rest.
His body was stiff beside yours, though. You were in his arms, like he didn’t want to let you go, but it was like he was trying to harden himself against you, make it so you couldn’t really touch him.
“It’s going to go back to how it was, isn’t it?” You said quietly.
“I can’t…” it almost sounded like he was in pain.
“It’s OK Joel,” you said, voice soft. “I don’t want to be something that hurts you.”
He held onto you for another few minutes. His fingers ran through your hair, you breathed him in. It felt like the end of something, more this time than it had the others. When he took his hand back, you got up and got dressed in the darkness of his room, slipping out without saying another word.
You hadn’t seen him since. Until that moment. He was with Tess, headed somewhere as you were leaving the FEDRA office. Some lab equipment had come in for you from Atlanta and you’d just gone to grab it after school before heading to the clinic for the evening. Joel’s eyes met yours and you lifted your hand, giving him a small wave. He responded with a nod of acknowledgement and you half smiled. It wasn’t much but it was progress. You’d take progress.
You saw Joel’s reaction before you heard or felt it. His eyes went wide and he was reaching and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything and your feet weren’t on land anymore.
The next thing you knew, you were on the ground. There was smoke, you couldn’t see much or breathe well. There was dust on the air, heat behind you and a high pitched ringing in your ears that drowned out the sound of almost everything else.
Hands were on you then, pulling you up. It took you a moment to orient yourself, realize that it was Joel who was dragging you up. You saw his face - frantic, pained - saw that he was talking but you couldn’t hear any of it.
He pulled you up to standing and tucked you against his side. You looked back over your shoulder. The building you’d just been in was half gone, part of it was burning, there was debris everywhere. You tried to pull yourself away from Joel but he held you tight.
“We have to move!” You could hear him again. It was sudden. There was still a whine in your ears but it wasn’t blotting everything out anymore. You looked up at him.
“There are people in there!” Your voice didn’t seem as loud as you were trying to make it. “I have to help them…”
You stumbled over some debris and Joel’s grip loosened enough for you to pull yourself free. You ran back toward the building, just hearing him scream your name behind you as you did, jumping over piles of concrete and rebar and trying to plot a way inside that would keep you away from the fires that were spreading. There was a path inside and you took it, the heat oppressive.
“Hello!” You yelled. “Anyone alive in here?”
“Over here!” Someone called. Your ears were still ringing but you clambered over the twisted remains of walls and windows to where you thought the sound was coming from. You spotted them, a woman not much older than you on her back and bleeding from her head, her blonde hair matted with it. She was panting for breath. You made your way to her.
“Hi,” you smiled a little. “I’m a doctor, I’m going to see if I can get you out of here, OK?”
“OK,” she nodded quickly.
“Try not to move your neck for me,” you said, looking her over. Part of her leg was below a chunk of the building. “What’s your name?”
“Kathy,” she said quickly. “My leg…”
“I know, Kathy,” you said. “Real quick, tell me the date and where you are.”
“It’s Wednesday,” she said, voice shaky. “I don’t remember the date but it’s June? In 2015? I’m in the QZ in Boston…”
“Already passing with flying colors here,” you said, ducking low to look at the leg below the concrete. There was a sizable gash along her thigh, one that may have hit the femoral artery. If it did, she’d bleed out once you started trying to move the concrete - if you even could move the concrete. “Can you feel your legs, Kathy?”
“Yeah,” she nodded quickly. “Yeah, the right one really fucking hurts…”
“Better it hurt than not, trust me,” you smiled. “OK I don’t have a kit or anything with me but I need to put a tourniquet on your right leg, otherwise you might lose a lot of blood once we try to get you out from under this concrete and that’s not good…”
You sat up on your knees and looked around. There was a man not far away who you hadn’t noticed before. He looked dead. You gave Kathy a small smile and quickly made your way over to him. You checked his pulse. Nothing. His eyes were open, staring into nothing, glassy and empty. But he had on a belt.
“Sorry,” you closed his eyes gently and unbuckled the belt, pulling it free as delicately as you could before going back to Kathy.
“You and I are going to get to know each other real well for a second here, OK?” You said, reaching between her legs and threading the belt through. “This is going to be pretty uncomfortable but just keep thinking ‘it’s better than blood loss’ for me.”
You tightened the belt as much as you could, Kathy hissing in pain as you did. Satisfied, you moved onto the concrete.
“OK, I’m going to try to lift this but I probably won’t be able to get very far,” you said. “So when I do, try to move your leg out, OK?”
“OK,” she said quickly, still panting for breath.
You gripped the hunk of concrete, the material rough against your fingers. You took a deep breath.
“One, two, three,” you pressed up, trying to stand as you did. The rock shifted a little but was too heavy for you to move it much more. “Try to move, go!”
She groaned and dragged her leg. You clung to the concrete, muscles straining, panting for breath through the dust and the smoke.
“I’m out!” She said and you dropped the rock, your arms already aching in relief. You moved quickly, wrapping an arm below her and helping her up, tucking her underarm into your shoulder.
“Alright Kathy,” you said. “Ready?”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said.
Navigating back through the rubble and the fire was harder with a second person and outside the building was chaos. Guards were swarming, people were screaming. You got Kathy to the edge of the chaos, a guard leveling a gun at you.
“I’m a doctor!” You said quickly. “She’s injured…”
He lowered the gun, looking to her leg.
“Come on,” he said, stepping to the side so you could come through. You got Kathy to another building and set her down against it, looking around until you found a guard who didn’t look like he was doing much. You grabbed him.
“Has medical shown up yet?” You asked.
“Don’t know,” he said. “Scene is a mess…”
“Stay with her until they do,” you said. “Tell them she’s evaluated at orange, understand?”
You didn’t give him a chance to argue, just running back toward the line of guards between the burning building and everything else. Joel’s hand closed over your arm before you had a chance to make it that far, yanking you back against him.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” He demanded, holding you tight.
“There are people alive in there!” You tried to pull yourself from his grip but he held firm. “I have to help them…”
“Joel,” Tess appeared on the other side of him. “We have to get out of here before they start arresting people, we have to go!”
“Then go!” He snapped at her before turning back to you. “Not going to just let you get yourself fucking killed…”
“People are dying!” You yelled.
“And you don’t get to be one of them!” He yelled back, dragging you along behind him. But his grip on you loosened when he stumbled on debris and you broke free, running back for the line of guards, ducking below one who tried to stop you. Joel was screaming for you.
“Doc!” You heard a vaguely familiar voice. “We haven’t cut the gas…”
You heard the explosion as you felt it this time, heat and force throwing you back as the roar of it overtook you.
The last thing you saw was clear blue sky before your head hit the ground.
A/N: The Fireflies are acting up and it’s causing problems! We can’t let things be calm for a bit, gotta be thrown stuff at these folks all the time.
I do have a taglist that I update every time I post! If you'd like to be added, please comment below :) For some reason, some people's handles won't let me tag them? If that's the case for you, I'M SO SORRY Tumblr hates me.
There will probably be a second chapter posted today as I damn near fell asleep writing this one last night and I have a lot more I want to get down today so just keep a eye out for that.
Thank you for reading and for all your feedback! It’s lovely knowing how people are connecting with my work. Love you!
Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli
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When it comes to weed, I feel as though the whole Toxicule would be partaking, but in unique ways that play off of each other! They’d rarely smoke alone, at most two smoke while one is hanging out sober (likely as a designated driver if they have to go somewhere).
Andrew would strike me as a very casual weed smoker, a blunt and a beer is probably enough for him to smoke on his own. He smokes most weed without care for strain or quality aside from indica or sativa. It’s not that he has a low tolerance or hates more elevated highs, it’s just how he relaxes. Without hesitation he’ll take a bong rip if Ashley offers, and some edibles if Julia has some cooked up, but left to his own devices a single blunt is all he’ll take independently. If you’d ask him, it’s because he doesn’t like to take in a whole lot, but in reality he just loves having the weed fed to him by the other two. Shotgunning hits from Ashley until he gets so woozy and giggly that he happily falls into line when a shotgunned hit turns into messy make outs as they grope each other, much to the visual delight of Julia (if she doesn’t decide to join in by wiggling between the two to soak up some of the attention). Not to mention he’s always game to try some of Julia’s edibles, especially when she feeds him some super potent ones, left perfectly serene and pliable so Julia can take in his scent, smelling him up and down before fucking him slow and steady, listening to his whimpers as his body aches for more, desperate to be filled, but with too clouded a mind to form words. To Ashley’s delight though, his tongue is still very useful.
Ashley would be the certified pothead, no doubt about it for me. If the other two need some form of paraphernalia, they ask her first. From wax and dabs to bongs and grinders, concentrates to bud, she’s got at least a bit on hand at all times. She’s typically in the mood for certain strains, but isn’t picky. She collects bongs especially, not only because they’re her favorite method, but because she loves the artistry in it, ESPECIALLY heady rigs (her prized piece is an AKM Anatomy Rig). And she puts the pieces to work, smoking far more than the other two combined in volume. She has to almost be forced to take breaks to allow her tolerance to die down, but she relents usually. When she’s super high, touching at just the right spot can send her into a tizzy. Andrew’s Tdick can make her melt in seconds, and she by the end she always has a hard time recalling how many times she orgasms (that’s probably just the metric ton of weed in her system though. Probably). Julia loves teasing her, especially with surprise gropes. Ashley’s squeak transforming into a moan is Julia’s favorite. If she’s really wanting some action though, Julia knows she’s just pressing a few of the right buttons away before Ashley’s bent over the couch arm, wet and half teasing/half begging Julia to use her. Ashley also loves to tease Julia at how much she’s sniffing her hair, but when you’re having your back blown out being bred by your girlfriend, it isn’t easy to get a word in.
Julia is likely the cannabis scientist of the menagerie. She loves the process of growing and crossbreeding strains, having a grow room in the place they live. She looks into strains to see side effects good and bad and has her bud sorted by what they do. Andy and Leyley find it hard to parse sometimes, but Julia gets all giddy discussing it so they do their best to follow along, even if genetic lineages are complicated and they have no idea what terpenes are. Julia actually smokes the least by a decent margin, instead dedicated to making edibles, though she does smoke with the other two. She’s made a good array of edibles, of course the classics like gummies and cookies and brownies, but she experiments a lot and usually the results are quite good! Andrew and Ashley still have not a damn clue how someone makes garlic bread edibles, but it was good! Whenever Julia’s particularly high, her love of scents is exacerbated and their effect on her is tenfold, to the point where getting off may not even require stripping. Andrew is especially potent for this, and if he lets her sneak into his sweater and into his armpit, she’ll be clawing at him and drooling as she makes a mess in her panties, shivering and throbbing as she fully imbibes him, and while Andrew doesn’t get off to this more one sided act, he absolutely finds it hot. Ashley loves to be more bratty about it, teasing Julia for being a freak with how much Julia gets off to smells, but when they’re both staining underwear with grinding on each other, Ashley can’t hide how cute she finds it that Julia loves her hair. One time Andrew and Ashley ambushed her with tank tops they worked out in after she was nice and high and they had to stop her from falling with how weak her knees got. ~<3
#finally got this written! not the typical style but I like how it came out! <3#bonus: they watch aquarium and reptile care videos while high#the Toxicule#Toxicule#grub speaks#the coffin of andy and leyley#tcoaal#gravecest#coffincest#shipcest#ashley graves#andrew graves#tcoaal julia#andrew x ashley#ashley x andrew#andrew x julia#julia x andrew#julia x ashley#ashley x julia#proshipper safe#proshippers please interact#proship#comshipper safe#comshippers please interact#comship
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101 ways not to say i do, because who doesn't love weddings?
prev
Andrew paused for a moment. He had an eidetic memory, but he couldn't recall ever telling Nicky about the drive-through chapel they'd found. But of course, one particular loudmouth who knew about the fake wedding came to mind.
"Matt. Matt told you."
"I'm not going to confirm or deny that accusation," Nicky said calmly before returning to a louder volume. "But either way, I should have been one of the first people to know! Aaron's also pissed, by the way!"
Now, why had Nicky gone and told Aaron about it? "Nicky, calm down."
"I will not calm down, Andrew! Ma—my informant also told me that you two don't even have rings! I raised you better than this, Andrew Minyard."
The apartment door creaked open, and a few footsteps later Neil Josten was in front of Andrew, in all his sweaty glory, dabbing at his face with the bottom of his shirt and exposing a midriff littered with scars and accented by toned muscle.
Neil nodded his head at Andrew's phone and raised an eyebrow. Who is it?
Nicky, Andrew mouthed back.
Neil beckoned for the phone, and Andrew happily handed it over. "Hey Nicky," Neil started, only for Nicky's aggravated voice to blare through the speakers, once again lamenting being left out of their wedding.
Neil sighed. "Nicky, it's not a real marriage. We drove through an attraction at Las Vegas that was offering fake marriage certificates and two-minute ceremonies."
Andrew could hear Nicky's response, even if he didn't have the phone: "Yeah, well, that wasn't fake!"
Neil's eyes widened as he locked gazes with Andrew.
"Fuck," they both mouthed.
MASTERPOST
#aftg#all for the game#andrew minyard#neil josten#the foxhole court#andreil#aftg neil#aftg andrew#nicky hemmick#aftg nicky#101 ways not to say I do#whoopsies#leedee013#ww013 4.10.2023#wip wednesday#lee's writing shenanigans#itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice#<333
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Andrew Larson x MC
Blurb Tags: Its thirsty fluff | Second kisses~
Cheese is blaming me and I'm blaming @written-in-cheese AGAIN 🤣
The first kiss was honestly nerve racking with Andrew. You were nervous, but his jittery energy transferred to you making the first kiss far more stiff than it needed to be. It was still sweet, and you were glad he was the first to kiss you. For a while, you thought you might need to be the one to initiate it.
Your next mission was to get him more comfortable with kissing you. It would take a trip to the Three Broomsticks for a couple butterbeers and a comfortable place to hang out in the room or requirement for the evening.
The plan to relax your boyfriend was in full swing. The butterbeer date was sucessfull and you let him info dump about this new book he was reading on the history of Hogwarts and some of its secrets. It was cute how he was learning so much from that book yet, you were learning similar things by exploring.
He agreed to come back to the room of requirement with you. He always loved to check up on the animals you took care of. After giving them some food and a quick brush, you linked your arm with his and brough him into the newer lounge room the Room had developed for you weeks ago. It was nice and cozy. A large couch with tons of pillows and blankets to use was smack dab in the middle of the room.
Andrew was smiling, going on and on about the new unicorn that was born earlier that week. Something was special about its under-develped horn. You weren't paying too much attention while you got him to take a seat on the couch. You ploped down next to him, hand going to rest on his thigh immediately. His voice wavered for a moment but he continued on as normal.
You two had only kissed once before and you weren't sure how to broach the subject withouth making him shy and clam up. Looking over at him, you noticed his dimple everytime he smiled. It was cute and oh-so him. Without much though, you leaned over and kissed the dimple on his cheek.
Andrew stopped talking mid-sentence and looked over at you with a massive blush. "What was that for?" his smile only grew when he saw your smile.
"For being cute." You said, laughing a bit. There were butterflies in your stomach as well, but you dared to push them down and give him another kiss on the cheek.
"Well..." Andrew cleared his throat. His body relaxed and his arm went up and over your shoulders. He held you close to him effortlessly. "Then you deserve many kisses for being so cute." His voice was almost a whisper. You held back your excitement as your plan to make him feel comfortable with you was working, saving the fist pump for later
There was a long moment of silence before you leaned in a bit closer. "Then why don't you start?"
He used his free hand to rub the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh. You felt his nerves getting the better of him so you poked him in the side. Laughter spilled out of him and he doubled over with giggles. "Stop stop! Don't tickle me!" He skillfully guarded his torso from your attack.
He leaned in closer to you as he bent away from your attacking hand. When he was finally close enough, you kissed his cheek again. He looked at you in supprise, already so close to your face. His eyes moved down to your lips, and, in the calmness of the new moment, he kissed you again. This time, he was much more relaxed and fluid. His head turned to capture your lips in just the right angle.
You hummed into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close and to show him you didn't want to stop anytime soon. He pushed himself closer to you, his arms wrapping around your torso in a tight hug. His lips let up for a moment and he took in a sharp breath. "You're beautiful." he whispered before kissing you passionately.
You thanked him between kisses, and continued your lip locking. The moment easily became a full blown make-out session with Andrew hovering ontop of you on the plush couch. His hips pressed against yours while his hands explored your body.
The sensations of his hands and lips sent you into such a state of bliss. You welcomed him to explore more with his mouth, moving your head to allow his kiss to trail down your neck.
"Leave a hickie." You asked breathlessly.
He paused "I don't want to hurt you..."
"It doesn't hurt. Please... I like it. just a small reminder of you." You encouraged
His lips ghosed over your skin. "It will leave a mark for e-everyone to see."
"I can hide it." You assured, remembering the scarf you had in your trunk. "Please." You continued.
He nodded, lips kissing along our neck to find the perfect spot. Goosebumps rose on our skin in the wake of his kisses. He settled on a spot near your shoulder. His lips gently latched on while he created suction to coax a hickie mark to form.
You gasped, but placed your hand on the back of his head to keep him from stopping. You felt his tongue intermittently dart out to soothe the spot while he continued making the mark.
After serval minutes, his lips moved from that spot to kiss down your collarbone. He sighed against your skin while he trailed his way back to your lips.
Before he kissed your mouth again, he smiled down and gazed into your eyes. "I hope that was sufficient"
You giggled at him. "Thank you." Your hands raked through his soft hair.
"I just..." He cupped your face while memorizing your features. "I love kissing you.. A lot." He admitted.
"Then why are you stopping?" You poke him playfully.
Andrew's smile grows wide and he captures your lips again in a gentle yet heated kiss.
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I hadn't seen this yet-- truth hurts! Is the Andrew/Fergie remarriage being floated as a distraction...🤔
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Chapter 11
Guys, it's happening!!!
04th August 1987- Part 2
"What do you mean 'the baby's coming?" Now it was him being in panic. She surely didn't intend to give birth right here and now…?! "I mean what I said, you idiot!", Camilla snarled, closing her eyes as the next contraction painfully yerked through her body. "I'm not a fucking midwife, Milla!", Andrew snarled back, looking at her in total desperation. She couldn't be serious. She couldn't have the baby here and now, with only him by her side, he was a man, he had no idea of these kinds of things, what on earth was he supposed to do? "No, but you're a fucking soldier so please start behaving like one, you wannabe Silver Stick in Waiting!", she almost screamed at him, not in order to be rude but in order to encourage him because she knew he could do it. Of course, this wasn't the birth any of them had been expecting or hoping for but sometimes nature had the weirdest of ideas and she'd rather have her baby delivered with the help of her husband at home than in the car on the way to hospital. "W-What… shall I do?", he asked, looking at her like a little boy on his first day at school. "What would you do if I was an injured companion of yours?", she countered and noticed in relief how this comparison seem to work: "I'll get you somewhere safe and quiet … and then get some… clean towels, sheets and blankets, hot water…" "Yeah…", she confirmed, desperately holding on to him when she was, again, struck by the next contraction. "You can do it, Andy! I know you can! Please…", she whispered and he gently lifted her up and carried her over to her bedroom again, placed her there and then rushed downstairs to go and fetch the other things. While Camilla tried to prepare herself and the baby as good as possible with some breathing exercises, her husband managed to organise everything they needed, including a tiny little glass of champagne for the mum-to-be. He had heard once that it made the birth easier but it was going to be her decision eventually; he was just trying to make it as comfortable as possible for her. Before returning upstairs, he called the Ambulance in Swindon and explained their situation and they promised him that a doctor and nurse would be there within less than an hour. 'Less than an hour…', he thought, shaking his head, trying to overshadow his anxiety with irony and emptied his own, not so tiny, glass of champagne in one go. "Alright, old man.", he said to himself when looking into the mirror in the staircase gallery. "Seems like you're going to be a midwife tonight."
The good thing was that none of them was afraid or ashamed in any way as they were still husband and wife, parents, a family and there was nothing breaking new to it all, even when Andrew helped Camilla getting rid of her nighty and spread her legs apart so that the baby would find its "way out" as smoothly and naturally as possible, there was nothing he hadn't seen before and nothing that'd have made either of them uncomfortable. "I'm so glad that the children aren't here.", Camilla sighed between two meanwhile immense painful labour contractions. "So am I!", Andrew nodded. "Imagine how they'd be making fun of their old dad playing midwife…" Almost tenderly, he dabbed her forehead with a towel and almost accidentally stroked her cheek. "I'm so proud of you.", he whispered and Camilla wasn't sure whether she'd rather laugh or cry about this unexpected declaration of love but was hit by another heavy labour contraction before she could have thought twice. "Okay, Andy…", she declared when the pressure to push became almost unbearable, bravely pulling herself together. "It's time now… it might take me a few pushes but… as soon as you see her head…" "Don't worry, Milla, I'll have it.", he assured her and once more she thanked God for having sent him to her in this very situation. As much as she loved Charles, he'd never have been able to keep as calm right now as Andrew but it helped a lot and she knew they were going to make it together.
It didn't take long until the head became visible and "midwife Andrew" was in charge gently holding it up while the mother gave another few pushes until the baby finally arrived, announcing herself with an enormous cry, which eventually made the mum cry, too. She didn't cry in pain, she cried in relief and in thankfulness that everything had gone so well and the baby seemed alright. Quickly Andrew wrapped the little girl up warmly in a clean towel and carefully cleaned her little face as Camilla told him to, before he placed the little bundle on his wife's chest. "Hello little one!", Camilla greeted her newborn daughter and kissed her softly on her forehead. "I'm your mummy and I love you so much.", she whispered teary-eyed. How beautiful her little daughter was, how absolutely perfect from head to toe… "Shall we thank Daddy for being our hero tonight?", she asked her, invitingly looking over to Andrew who seemed a bit awkward and overwhelmed, having watched the moving scene from the edge of the bed. "B-but what about… the… afterbirth?", he asked insecurely, looking at the umbilical cord that was still connecting mother and child, but Camilla shook her head. "Let the ambulance deal with that later. Come here." Sighing Andrew did as commanded and carefully laid down beside her. It felt strange to be so close to her again but not in a negative way, especially not after what had just happened. They had delivered a baby together. A wonderful, beautiful, perfect little baby which would hopefully be happy and healthy for a lifetime and have a glorious childhood in their family. Everything could have been perfect, if only he'd been the real father. "Sush, Andy. You're her daddy. You literally brought her to life. She's yours just as she's mine." These wonderful words made him tear up as well and, overwhelmed by emotions, he couldn't help leaning forward - and kissed her…
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Pgs. 214-247
it’s her.
Rope Lalope.
icon for weird goths who for some reason decide to live in the Midwest, those who can somehow still enjoy Lovecraft while knowing the truth of his fucking cat, and
I don’t think WLW ships have ever been the same since the advent of The Rosemary from The Homestuck,
or if I want to sound like a fuckin goofy ass oldhead, femslash.
the thing is that I cannot identify any actual concrete change in general fandom and shipping post-HS, I just feel it. I can feel that something within the universe’s structure changed the moment grimdark gorl and sparkly gay vampire got together.
but I’m talking about a character that hasn’t even shown up yet.
also front facing Rose is fucking haunting stop please.
[insert dabbing joke here.]
the fucking haunting violin refrain flash is so good I love how her movements sync up with the song.
not gonna gush about Aggrieve the same way as Showtime because come on it’s fucking Showtime, but Aggrieve is still very much up there.
Since your good for nothing friend is obviously not going to bail you out in time, you issue words of parting fondness to dear, sweet Liv. Oh, if only Affleck could have been the one to make the final sacrifice instead of her stubborn, blue collar, salt-of-the-earth father. Then she would fall into your arms for consolation, and YOU would be the one to make the deceased Bruce Willis proud.
the crush on Liv Tyler is not explored enough in fandom, I need to know how much John imprints her on his other romance options. how much of a Liv Tyler is Vriska, these are the fucking questions people.
Your panoramic window offers a view of your yard below, and the mausoleum housing your dead cat, JASPERS, who died when you were young. Your MOM had the structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to your youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal. At least, that is how you have come to interpret the gesture in retrospect.
compared to John’s struggle with the clownkind, Rose has a much more grounded strife with her parental figure.
I say that but Rose takes this shit to an 11.
regardless, a parent that constantly performs malicious compliance with a hint of irony isn’t unbelievable, neither is someone fooling themselves into thinking their guardian is operating as such due to a general disconnect and the feeling of not having enough attention.
with all of this established,
it’s still really fucking funny,
because Rose will stare down Mom with sheer contempt thinking “SHE’S FUCKING WITH YOU! SHE’S TRYING TO GET TO YOU! DO NOT GIVE IN TO HER GAMES!” as she stands around vacuuming jackshit, probably having no thoughts in her fucking head except for “I love household chores. :))))))”
WIZARDS.RAR.
genuinely the funniest story surrounding Homestuck, Andrew Hussie risked their entire PC for a bunch of fucking stupid wizard pngs.
the Egberts do high action cake forcefeeding, the Lalondes do drunken covert operations, the Striders DO MAD NINJA TRICKS.
GIRL IS DRENCHED.
early HS art is so fucking pretty. everyone’s always on about the kids looking like bobbleheads and that’s good but the environments are so fucking good as well.
iconic panel, banger panel. look at how her knees do the swirly thing.
CRINGE MAC USER.
you’re making the John nervous!!! Egberts only do this under high stress!!! help him!!!
TT: And the content of the card appears to be variable from session to session.
TT: In one instance it was described as an "eggy loking thign" [sic].
presenting without comment.
“John: Take bite of apple.” is a really good ending flash in which John takes a bite out of an apple
and then gets fucking nuked.
the act then ends there.
a marvel that the only reason John lived was because he did what looked like the goofiest option ever. did the apple even taste good? what the fuck is cruxite made of???? I guess it’s edible??? might be candy, is it candy??? do they come in different flavors???
after way too long, Act 1 is finally fucking done, yet the more I read it, the shorter it feels. I can’t tell if it’s because I don’t need to absorb the tutorial stuff due to being familiar with the comic already, or because I’m anticipating when shit really goes crazy later on. maybe a bit of both. it certainly preps me for the art style, the flowery language, the weird humor, and so on.
I can say that Act 1 is
fine.
it is of good quality.
nothing groundbreaking and not the best,
but enjoyable nonetheless.
I get that it’s a bit slow and nothing really happens, but I’m able to entertain myself with the page to page shenanigans and good character interactions.
honestly I don’t understand how people skipped this act at all, how the fuck do you skip the start of the story??? don’t you want to like
understand
what is happening
and who these people are???
especially the later part, so much Homestuck skipping was for the sake of immediately getting to the character interactions, but
there are character interactions here,
and
you learn who the characters even are.
like what the fuck, the introduction to the characters and their dynamics should be key to being invested in them, but I guess not because some people were able to just jump in the middle and grow attached while not knowing what the fuck is going on.
in conclusion: people who skipped Act 1 are cringe, and have doomed themselves. Act 1 good.
#homestuck liveblog#hs liveblog#hs reread#liveblog#reread#live read#liveread#homestuck#hs1#hs#home22tuck#Act 1#Flash#john egbert#june egbert#rose lalonde#Beta Kids#end of act
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“I'm a problem solver / 'Cause I always used to be a problem” (Since I Was a Kid by Lennon Stella)
My last prompt fill! I had a lot of angsty prompts for Maya and Carina, and while this one still led to a difficult situation for Carina, I very much wanted it to be them vs. an external problem. Perhaps my interpretation of the lyrics is creative, but I hope you like what I did with it.
A link to the song
>>>>>>>>>>
Carina is quiet throughout dinner, not that either of them could get a word in even if they tried. Vincenzo DeLuca dominates the conversation, talking about his latest project: this time researching chromosomal abnormalities that lead to birth defects and miscarriage.
“Maybe it’s his way of trying to bond with you,” Maya suggests when they are out of ear shot.
Carina knows better.
Everything her father has ever done is because he likes the spotlight. He is always coming up with ideas that sound miraculous on paper but, in reality, push the boundaries too far. She has seen it give patients false hope, sometimes even putting their lives at risk as he makes unrealistic promises about what he can deliver.
He talks about fixing chromosomal abnormalities in the embryo through surgical intervention – an impossible feat, but one he believes he can achieve.
“Your friend, uh Doctor Robbins, she’s been doing incredible things in New York. It’s a shame you two lost contact.”
Maya raises her eyebrows at the mention of Carina’s ex-girlfriend, but doesn’t take offence at his words, smiling to herself when she feels Carina reach out under the table to squeeze her hand.
Carina is watching for signs of mania, but while he is animated in his stories, he remains calm throughout the evening. He is cheerful and chatty, but never lets the conversation become personal. He doesn’t ask about Carina’s work or the clinic she played a part in opening at the fire station. He asks Maya a few questions about being a firefighter, interested in risks of prolonged smoke exposure on her lungs. He mentions Sicily a couple of times, but not family, and eventually Carina addresses the one subject he seems to be so determined to avoid.
“Papa, do you want to visit the spot where I scatted Andrea’s ashes while you’re here?”
She holds her breath as she waits for his answer, her heart sinking when he scoffs at her suggestion.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you didn’t come when I scattered some in San Lorenzo. I thought you might want to say goodbye to him here, so that we could remember him together,” Carina says, her voice shaking as she speaks.
“What is the point of dredging up the past, Carina?” Vincenzo says dismissively, although he cannot hide the pain in his eyes at the mention of his son.
“It’s not the past, Papa!” Carina says. “The grief I feel is just as present today as it was when he died. I know you feel that too.”
“You don’t know what I feel.”
“No, I don’t, because you never talk about it,” Carina says. “You never talk about him.”
“Don’t push me, ragazza mia,” Vincenzo says.
“Papa…”
“Basta!”
He raises his voice, slamming his glass on the table so roughly that the stem breaks, small shards of glass flying onto his plate. Red wine spills from the goblet, staining the pale cloth that covers the table.
Maya winces, as Carina recoils at his aggression. Vincenzo grabs his napkin and starts dabbing at the droplets of wine on his cream pants, muttering under his breath. Maya stands up and fetches the trashcan to collect the pieces of glass that are scattered across the table.
“I’m sorry,” Carina says meekly.
“No,” Maya interjects. “You’re not the one who should be apologising.”
“Maya please,” Carina tries to stop her, but Maya won’t back down.
“I know that it’s hard for you to talk about Andrew,” she says to Vincenzo, holding his attention with a hard glare. “It’s not easy for any of us, especially Carina. But in this house, we don’t react to our anger like that and we don’t break things out of frustration.”
There is something about the way she asserts herself that persuades Vincenzo not to argue back. Instead, he lifts his hands in conciliation.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think it’s time that I left.”
“You don’t have to leave,” Maya says, more gently this time. “Please, stay for coffee.”
Vincenzo shakes his head. “Carina, perhaps you and I can have lunch tomorrow. Maybe you can even give me the phone number for Doctor Robbins?”
And there he is, back to business. Carina nods numbly and walks him to the door, accepting a polite kiss on her cheek before he disappears down the hallway. She closes the door and falls against it, her head resting on the cool, hard wood as she lets out a heavy sigh.
Maya comes up behind her, her hands sliding around her waist and her chin resting on Carina’s shoulder. She doesn’t ask if Carina is okay because she already knows the answer.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
Carina shakes her head. “I’m sorry if he triggered you.”
“I wasn’t worried about me,” Maya says. “I just don’t want you to ever feel like I did when I was a kid.”
“I know,” Carina says, turning in Maya’s grasp and curling her hands around her neck, her fingers running through her blonde hair. “He’s not like that.”
Maya opens her mouth to object, but Carina shuts her down.
“He’s not,” she insists. “He’s just…”
“Emotional? Yeah, I used to say that about my dad too, remember?” Maya says. “Look, I’m not trying to project my issues with my dad onto you and yours. But I will always stand up for you when he crosses a line – and tonight he did.”
“I know, bambina,” Carina says, her forehead coming to rest against Maya’s. “Thank you.”
She feels calmer in Maya’s arms.
“Come on,” Maya says, tugging her back into the apartment. “Let’s clean up and get to bed. And if you want, at the weekend we can go to Hamilton Viewpoint together to remember Andrew?”
Carina smiles as she pushes aside her disappointment in her father, yet again, and instead chooses to focus on the good in her life, following her wife into the kitchen.
#station 19#maya bishop#carina deluca#station 19 fanfiction#my fanfiction#february lyric prompt challenge
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Headcanons | Simon Zee, Philip & Andrew with a sick s/o | Romantic
Simon Zee
Once he finds out that you’ve fallen sick with what is suspected to be food poisoning, he makes it his personal mission for the rest of the week to find out where and how you have contracted it.
Usually, he is very calm when it comes to unexpected situations, so on the surface, it seems that he is doing alright. From the inside, however, he is worried sick about you.
First, he almost accuses Thomas of not properly preparing the food that you’ve had in the days before, but Matthew then remarks that it would make no sense for this to be the cause of your food poisoning, because otherwise, more people would have very likely fallen ill because of it.
Simon finds out he should have just asked you, for you soon reveal that you had accepted a few samples from a merchant at the market you had visited a few days prior, which is a more plausible cause for this mishap.
Upon hearing this, Simon wonders if he should go get Jesus, because He healed Jesse as well and would surely heal you, too, but you stop him before he can turn to leave.
You tell him that some cuddles would make you feel way better already and that you don’t want to bother Jesus with it. Although Simon would rather find the Rabbi instead, he establishes that a few minutes of holding you won’t hurt. If it gives you relief from your illness, it will make him happy, too.
Philip
Philip turns into a doting boyfriend when you don’t show up one morning during breakfast and turn out to be down with a fever.
He will run back and forth with damp rags to dab against your forehead and will dice up fruits to make sure that you’re eating at least something. Even though you’re not sick to the point that you can’t keep down any food, you struggle with taking it in, but he coaxes you to eat one apple and a few chunks of persimmon.
Once you’re settled, he finds one of his scrolls to keep you company and read you a few passages on prophecy.
The pleasant timbre of his voice calms you down and lulls you into a soft slumber. You aren’t in a position to take in any of the words he is saying, but the sound is enough to make you happy.
Philip reads to you like that for a while until he realises you haven’t responded at all in a bit, and when he looks up, his heart flutters pleasantly to see you peacefully sleeping, tucked into your bedroll snugly.
He finishes the paragraph and puts another blanket over your form before leaving you be, but he remains nearby in case you wake up and require more help from him.
Andrew
Poor Andrew would feel so guilty when you’re sick. What if you had picked it up from him? And what if you were too weak to travel?
He thinks of all the worst case scenarios possible, from worrying that you’re in great pain to worrying that you’re going to die soon.
Simon tries to talk some sense into him, but all Andrew can do is watch your closed tent with a heavy heart, knowing that you were in there feeling miserable. Of course, the women are taking good care of you, but it still hurts to hear the sound of your coughs and sneezes from the other side.
This fisherman would do anything if it meant for you to feel better. He would gladly take the sickness on himself and have it be ten times worse if it only meant for you to be healthy and comfortable.
Every time one of the women exits the tent, he will be next to them right away and demand a detailed description of how you are doing. Of course, they inform you of his concerns, which warms your heart and makes you wish you would feel better sooner just so you could see Andrew again.
Andrew, bless his heart, even tries to make you soup. It’s not good, but it is clear that he tried his very best.
Slowly but surely, you start to get back on your feet, even though your cheeks don’t have their usual colour in them. As you are recovering, Andrew makes sure to stay by your side until you’re completely nursed back to health again.
#the chosen philip#the chosen#the chosen andrew#the chosen simon the zealot#simon the zealot x reader#philip x reader#andrew x reader#reader insert#x reader#the chosen headcanons#the chosen x reader#headcanons
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yes post minei lore
hehehehe :3
Minei lore be upon ye, lovely folks of Tumblr! (At least early Minei lore, up to her joining the Vigil, which is already a lot! :D ) Under the cut because it is LONG.
Minei was born in DR to two parents who both worked for the Shining Blade. For the first four years of her life (as far as she can remember, she was of course Very Small), they were happy--and then people came into their house in the middle of the night and attacked the three of them. Minei’s parents put up a hell of a fight, but both were killed. When the remaining assassins then went after Minei to take out that last loose end, this very small child, who was almost entirely untrained in anything to do with magic yet, lashed out in grief and confusion and fear and anger with every bit of power she had—and with zero restraint. She destroyed the assassins, blew apart a decent chunk of the house, and certainly would have killed herself in the process as well if it wasn’t for the blessing Grenth gave her. She actually remembers meeting the god himself, but she questions this years down the line (surely he would have left Tyria by then?). Whatever happened, though, that blessing was enough to keep her alive, and she wakes up three days later in the hospital.
Her parents had no extended family to take care of her, as far as anyone can find out, so Minei ends up in an orphanage. It’s…not a good place. The woman in charge is cruel, and the other children are cruel in turn in a desperate attempt to avoid getting hurt that never works. Minei keeps to herself as much as she can and starts practicing her necromantic magic on her own, just because it’s something that makes her happy and something she knows she’s good at, even if others try to say different. She turns to Grenth in this period of time as almost. like. an imaginary friend? She talks to him because she has no one to talk to, but not because she expects him to save her. Stop her from dying? Maybe, sure. Get her out of a shitty situation? If he could do that, then she wouldn’t be there in the first place.
She runs away from the orphanage when she’s nine and ends up running smack-dab into another nine-year-old girl. Her name’s Petra. She thinks that the fact that Minei just brought a rat “back to life” as a undead little critter is the coolest thing she’s ever seen. Petra brings Minei home with her, in all her nine-year-old-ness of “look Dad this is my new best friend and also she doesn’t have somewhere to stay so can she stay with us please please please”, and her dad is very much “oh boy, okay, um—”. After a while and various shenanigans, Minei does actually end up staying with them, and (eventually) gets officially adopted as Andrew’s daughter and Petra’s sister.
The ensuing five to six years are probably the happiest of Minei’s life. She has family in her life, people who love her and people she can talk to and people she trusts. She goes all in with training her necromancy as much as she can, partially in homage to the god who saved her and partially because it’s something she enjoys and something she’s made hers. She has a pretty good time at school. She slowly starts becoming aware of the way the city works. Jennah is still relatively new to the throne; the Dragonbrand is formed the year she turns ten. The Ministry Guard, as far as she can tell, strut around looking important and don’t do much—except maybe for the ministers, none of whom she knows. The Seraph are fighting the centaurs and holding posts around DR; she sees recruiting posters more and more, has friends who talk excitedly about joining someday. And the Shining Blade is doing mysterious things for the queen, she supposes.
(Sometimes she feels like she’s being watched. I’m sure that’s not related.)
It should be noted that, at this point, she doesn’t know anything about what her parents did for a living. She was way too young when they died to remember details that they might have mentioned offhand, and far too young for them to have ever tried to explain in detail. She has a vague memory of seeing the Shining Blade symbol a long time ago, but she doesn’t connect this to her parents at all.
Her first real encounter with the Seraph, outside of chance/brief interactions, is when she’s out in Queensdale picking up supplies for the inn that her adoptive dad runs. On her way back, she passes by Shaemoor—right as centaurs are attacking. And the Seraph there are struggling, she can tell. And she’s never actually been in combat in her life, but she knows how to make necromantic constructs, and she knows basic defense magic, and she knows the feeling of life force enough to pull it out of someone.
She fights with Logan Thackeray and the Seraph, and they win, and she wakes up in the hospital for the second time in her life. This time, it’s with Andrew and Petra by her side, and with people calling her the Hero of Shaemoor, and a message from Logan asking her to come by the Seraph office when she’s back on her feet. He commends her on her skill and thanks her for her help, and offers her a spot training with the Seraph recruits if she wants it. Minei, who is Very aware that it was her magical skill and not martial training that meant that she could assist at all, and is at this point feeling like learning how to improve her skill isn’t going to hurt (not to mention that if she did end up joining the Seraph afterwards, the additional money would help her family stay above water) says yes.
She does train with them and with Logan, and she does learn. She likes Logan! he’s always friendly to her even when he gets exasperated, and he praises her progress. Most of the recruits look at her in a positive light, if slightly jealous, because she has some combat experience. She feels special, and she starts truly considering joining the Seraph. But she also starts wondering, a bit. Because between the Seraph and everyone else dedicated to keeping DR and the whole of Kryta safe, and all the posters and recruits and everything, if this is really something that’s working and functional, then how has the centaur threat gotten worse? She can’t remember an attack like that on Shaemoor before.
(And a small piece of her says: if they’re as good at their jobs as they say, then what happened to my parents?)
A month goes by.
A group ends up in the bar at the inn. Bandits, probably, but at first they’re no worse than most regular customers. Then they start getting rowdy, and Andrew cuts them off.
Things get bad.
Andrew’s stabbed, badly, with a dagger, and Minei (and Petra, with her bat) deal with the group on their own as best they can. A few patrons run and try to find Seraph in the area and end up pulling the Ministry Guard first. Commander Serentine sweeps in and blindly asserts that everyone there is under arrest, which only doesn’t happen because Logan shows up—and because he knows Minei. That personal relationship is the only reason that there’s no arrest, and the only reason that Minei and Petra even get a chance at getting the medicine their father needs to survive, which is too expensive for them to acquire otherwise. And that is suddenly and abruptly clear to Minei. What is just as clear is that she can’t afford not to take advantage of the system if she wants a chance at saving her father’s life in that moment, so she calls in her marker with Logan and goes after the medicine. It’s not close enough and not easy enough to get, even with everything else, and the wound is worse than originally anticipated. Andrew doesn’t survive.
Minei helps Logan figure out what’s up with the bandits and the Ministry Guard, because that at least is something she can do to get some kind of revenge*, and she finishes the level 10 personal story grieving the second time she’s lost her parent(s) and incredibly angry. She still comes to training, but she’s asking questions now, of Logan and of any books she can find and of instructors she trusts at school. When you were talking about a “higher class of criminal”, do you usually only arrest people who aren’t higher class? Are there any forms of accountability for the Ministry Guard or the Seraph—or the Shining Blade—without having someone go entirely off the rails in a way that's impossible to ignore? Why is medicine so expensive? Why are the Seraph spread out so widely? Have you considered any of this before?
Another month goes by, and Minei has another throwback. Assassins: Two! She gets the letter with the second half of her amulet and goes to meet the informant alone (though Petra tries to accompany her). She’s attacked by the informant and rescued by the Shining Blade, who tell her a story about the White Mantle being the ones to want her dead, thanks to things her parents were involved in (also with the Blade). And that the Mantle were the ones responsible for her parents’ deaths--to which her immediate response is something along the lines of so you’re saying it’s your job to stop them and you didn’t, then.
They deflect a bit and ask her if she wants to come help them take out the Mantle cell who tried to take her out, and Minei doesn’t fully trust them but she wants to hit back at someone so badly. And so she does--she goes with them, and they take out a Mantle cell. She doesn’t see the informant who escaped back in DR, and the exemplars promise they’ll track him down. She says something about being glad the cell is gone at least, and one of the exemplars cautions her about becoming too embroiled in her anger.
As Countess Anise often reminds us, vengeance makes a fine leash.
That makes Minei stop short, because yes, it is. And it’s the leash that they just pulled to get her to do what they wanted.
She asks the exemplars if she can accompany them to visit Anise, who appears frustrated with them for pulling Minei into their business. At the same time, the countess seems slightly taken aback that Minei’s only request is for the Blade to show her where her parents are buried. They do, and that’s the end of that, for the moment.
Minei pulls back from official Seraph training and tries her best to stay under the radar. She feels eyes on her more than ever, but she spends time with Petra, and they both do their best to maintain the inn/tavern with the help of a few extended family members. She goes back to practicing on her own on a regular basis, this time both with necromancy and swordplay. She teaches her sister the latter.
She stays in touch with Logan, who’s worried about her, but doesn’t go to see him. The next time she does see him face-to-face is when she’s called to act as the Advocate of the Crown and help manage the orders of Tyria, who can’t agree on what to do about the Risen. (She supposes she was tapped for the position because of her persistent reputation, but doesn’t know what she’s ever done to give the impression that she’s good at being a leader.)
The bickering gets on her nerves, but they listen to her. And she talks to Crusader Hiroki--a lot.
Minei knows she can fight. She knows she’s powerful. She knows that she has some sort of status, now, too. She knows that the Seraph would love to make use of that skillset**, and maybe so would the Shining Blade. But the Vigil pays well enough for her to help Petra, too, and she’d much rather fight the elder dragons than end up any more of a pawn in whatever is going on in DR than she already has been.
So she fulfills her duties as Advocate and protects the queen from Kellach and the Risen, and she leaves. It means leaving Petra, too, but they can send letters and she can come home to visit, and this is the best route that she can see going forward, and she’ll hopefully be doing something that will actually help people.
She's fifteen years old (and lying about it) when she joins the Vigil.
Notes for the starred things:
*Minei is Extremely Not Kind in her revenge, here, to the point that I could easily see the remaining bandits putting a price on her head.
**She doesn't think Logan, specifically, wants to use her. She has a weird cocktail of mixed emotions in his direction because of the events that have occurred in the period she's been getting to know him, but she does believe he genuinely cares about her. She also believes that that doesn't really matter, in the sense that she still feels she has to get away from everything in DR. And Logan's very attached (in both an emotional and magical sense) to Jennah, so leaving DR means leaving him. For a couple more details, during the specific time Minei trains with the Seraph, she comes to view Logan as a mentor and (vaguely) an older sibling figure, and he considers her a protege and (slightly less vaguely) a younger sibling of a sort. But Petra and Andrew were and always will be the most important people to Minei, and Logan was both the reason she had a chance to save Andrew and part of the system that made it far from a sure thing that Andrew would be saved at all. And he did, in fact, die, and was not saved...so. (Worth noting also, Minei considers the two of them to have parted on significantly worse terms than Logan does when she leaves for the Vigil.)
#gw2#mineille#notpockets#hawkepockets#you've read most of this before ellie but thanks for the encouragement to post it asljkdf :)#minei lore be upon ye#i am. weirdly self-conscious about posting this for some reason. maybe just cause it's so much info. but i'ma do it :)#i care for my fictional necromancer child so y'all get some of her story
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gonna make a detailed eurovision 2023 thoughts post (for those who haven't gleaned it from the 978543 posts saying finland and slovenia deserved better) but for now some highlights from my live reactions, ft way more typos than i usually make
starting off strong with SF1 opening and "MONARCHY JUMPSCARE"
Malta: HE SABBED
SAVBED
DABBED
As I kept getting ads (sf1 ad placement was a mess, a lot were during the performances): NOT ANOTHER ADDDDDDD
I HATE THE RUVOSIION YOTUBE
Serbia: BITCH
(THEY SAID)
AND CAMERA ANGLORS
AND STABI NC
AND ACTKNG
LUKE BLACK YOU WILK AKWAY HE CALOUS
THAT WAS SON GOOD WTF
THE VIDWO GAME WAS INCOEPISTATEC TSLl gn wild
Latvia: I didn't say anything remotely entertaining but it is worth noting that i did cry during the performance
Rapping part: SHES RRAPPOIGNHL?>????>
WHYBIS FHR YEOinfvvvv???
GRETA TBINVURN GCVVV?(
Ireland, where autocorrect turned what I believe was "not my favourite but good" into: Not my facility but food
Directly before Finland: finlandhalshchdk
FIANLANDMSND
Literally nothing entertaining happened in sf2 from me 🧍♀️ i think i was distracted by Slovenia
GF (fun fact I woke up the morning of with an unwell-feeling stomach from how stressed i was about the results)
Opening: SAN RUDER????
ANDREW FUCKIBN LOYD EJWNEVET????
Is that ducking Kate
Duchess of whatever
Can ridge i things
No wales now
when marco megoni showed up with the progress flag:
GAY
HAY
GAT
GAY
When guess who showed up during the flag parade: SLECIANEJIS
SLEONCISNA
SLOVWNIABSHSJDJD
When they showed the swedish green room: Loreen:)
And her entourage of identical men apparently
After Finland: FINALSDESDDDDDFFDRRRGRDGHJEUF I
NILFA D* (this was not as much of a spelling correction as i thought it was)
Directly before Germany, these are all attempts at typing the word Germany: GERKANYH
GENRNAG
HRMDNAHSHCJIC
I was too scared to even say things about Slovenia
And then the fear continued for the rest of the show so most of the rest of my messages are stuff like: I’m so scared
I’m gonna cry
I’m gonna sob
I’m gonna throw up
My blood pressure thinks this is soooooo funny
Except when slovenia got points, at which i went: SLOE CJSISBS
SLOCENJAIA
SLOVENIA
And then at the final results I got upset and went on tumblr and starting being sad here <3 the end
#long post#my esc thoughts#they should probably have a tag at this point#esc23#eurovision#og#joker out#<- barely but they're here
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Whumpril 2023 - Day 19
Andrew belongs to the beautiful wonderful and so understanding @brinkofdiscovery whose jar of characters I keep raiding
TWs: Blood, referenced kidnapping, referenced beating
Choking | Muffled Sobs | “I’m worried about you.”
Andrew had never held onto Mariano as tightly as he did right then, the turns that Bastian took as he drove rocking the two of them from side to side. Andrew shook against him, pressing his face into Mariano's shoulder. Sitting on the mattress that Bastian kept in the back, Mariano wrapped his arms tighter around Andrew.
His face was bruised and bloody. His glasses were broken. The men who'd kidnapped him hadn't been kind in the slightest. He'd been missing for days.
Mariano reached for one of the clean, black washcloths that Bastian kept back there, on top of a little cooler. He got a bottle of water next, pouring a little on the cloth. "Look at me, Andrew." He said.
Andrew hesitantly lifted his head, wincing in the light.
"I'm going to clean you up a little bit." Mariano started carefully dabbing at the dried blood beneath his nose and on his chin. "It's cold, but it'll feel better in a moment."
Next, he folded that cloth, finding a clean spot to wet with water. "You can close your eyes again." Mariano carefully wiped the cloth along Andrew's cheeks, along his forehead, and then delicately under his eyes.
"They--they just took me when I was on my way home from work." Andrew said closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Mariano's shoulder again. "I didn't even see them." His shoulders jumped, voice breaking. "I didn't even see them."
Mariano hummed, leaning his cheek against Andrew's head. "You're safe."
"They wouldn't stop asking me questions." Andrew said, shivering. The smile that appeared on his face trembled, a watery laugh forcing its way out. "Like I know anything about--about you, or Bastian."
Mariano held him as tight as he could, pulling Andrew fully against him on his lap. "They won't touch you again. I...I'm sorry they got you, honey."
Andrew hugged Mariano more desperately, shuddering as his laughter dissolved into a sob. He twisted his fingers into Mariano's shirt, each cracking, muffled noise filling the van. Mariano's fingers wound into Andrew's mohawk, his thumb sliding back and forth along his scalp.
Andrew reached up to pull his glasses off, tossing the ruined things to the side before gluing himself against Mariano again. Mariano didn't try to move him or pull him away. Even once they'd stopped in front of their apartment building and Bastian cut the engine, they stayed right where they were.
They weren't going anywhere or doing anything until Andrew's sobbing died down and Mariano's sweater was soaked through with tears.
#whumpril2023#Whumprilday19#Muffled sobs#Andrew#Mage of violence#Dragon of diamond#Technically bastian is there#Rescue#Whump#Blood#Kidnapping#Beating#Andrew is so fucking sad I love him
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