hmm.

Poll analysis part 3

Well I haven't done one of these in a while because I've been focusing on the nicknames and funny tags post But we are definitely due for another one because I've definitely noticed a change and behavior. Plus we've had a lot more and fandoms requested so that might be a contributing factor.

Let's start with the unhinged trio. Think we're due for a lineup change there. It used to be JJK, Black Butler and Dorohedoro. However the latter two only go crazy over a certain character.

Jujutsu Kaisen definitely still deserves its spot There's a reason I picked them to be the first fandom to get a Nicknames and funny tags post in fact they need an update Desperately because you guys are still up to your same old unhinged antics. I've just been busy with other fandoms (one piece) that say even more outrageous crap in the comments

Now One Piece I think you guys took that nickname and funny tag post as a challenge to be as unhinged and creative with your tags as possible because every time I think you all can't possibly get any worse. Someone puts a tag that's even crazier and now I have to update that post with more tags and new characters again.

Now the third spot of the unhinged trio should probably go to Trigun because you guys can't stop talking about Wolfwood's slutty Catholic titties and Vash's snatched little slutty waist. Plus someone has sent a match up request of their weapons no less than three times even though the rules plainly state no weapons so I think we definitely qualify for unhedged trio territory.

My Hero Academia You guys only showed up for the bunny girl and I get it. She's hot. Or to crap on endeavor, that's about it.

Attack on Titan. I finally have found proof of life. The fandom might be in a coma, but at least there's a pulse I thought that fandom was dead but someone or group of people is sending in quite a few requests for that fandom.

And now on to Naruto my problem child fandom. I am not kidding You're the fandom that refuses us to send in photos, but will throw a tantrum if it's not the photo from the correct era of the anime even though I have no clue what you're talking about. Normally when people don't like the photo with any other fandom a dozen better photos of the character will randomly appear in my inbox. Not with the Naruto fandom. I get 10 hate messages saying it's from the wrong era of the anime and I should know that. But does anyone send me a better photo from the correct era of the anime? No. Well actually that's not entirely true the a few times this fandom has sent in replacement photos it's from when in the anime I know the characters are still 14 I've done way too much research into when in canon characters turn 16 and what particular character design/outfit marks that in the timeline for this particular show because of how much I feel like I can't trust this particular fandom as a whole to follow rules. So, remember people I can't read your mind and you are the only fandom that wants to throw a fit over photos like this. Plus the few times I have tried to address the issues with the photos and try to fix the problem you guys want to get combative and very aggressive in the comments. Plus I swear you all are allergic to rules because at least 70% to 80% of requests relating to your fandom have some sort of issue. Whether it's trying to bend the rules or just outright breaking them to massive formatting problems. No other fandom causes me this many headaches. So please for the sake of my sanity do better

Sorry about that. I needed to rant about my problem child fandom maybe now they will start behaving.

When it comes to formatting there is a group of about three people that made requests either everyday or every 2 to 3 days and it was the max amount of request/matchups they could do in a single day according to the rules. They did this the entire time the box was open so they had their formatting down to a science. So basically any fandom that these people requested a lot of had really good track records for formatting and not trying to blatantly break the rules. So One Piece, JoJo's, Attack on Titan and Avatar/Korra all have very good track records right now

But with most fandoms they do a pretty good job of following the rules. No one is as bad as Naruto. Now there are some common issues and major incidents I've had so I'll go ahead and list them below

The common issues are just forgetting to put the name of the show or spelling, but Google can normally figure that out so that's not a major problem or people submitting a character that is video game only and not part of the anime adaptation. Persona, pokémon and Tekken are The worst offenders when it comes to this. Other major issues that come up frequently are with character ages? But it's normally with characters that look like they're adults. So I really don't hold that against people. I'm just guessing that people didn't realize they're actually teenagers but hopefully that will not be as much of a problem but since I dropped the age down to 16.

Now recent issues I've had to address were formatting issues where it was bad enough that I couldn't make it out due to dyslexia. Trigun has tried to submit weapons no less than three times even though that is blatantly against the rules. Like I mentioned earlier Naruto likes to submit photos from when the characters are 12 to 14 that doesn't fit the rules especially when photos are available from the correct age range that do follow the rules. So those are the ones I use no matter how many times they throw temper tantrums. Dungeon Meshi has submitted a 14-year-old and Soul Eater submitted a 13-year-old and said they were 16 in the request. So they lied. Luckily someone told me so I was able to delete those polls quite quickly, but now I can't trust anyone. So if you ever wonder why it takes so long for me to empty out the request box this is why

Oh but good news, no one has submitted a request since I've closed the box I basically consider that a miracle because the last two times there have been people that have not cared that the box is closed. So let's keep it that way please. I don't mind questions, just no requests. The box is closed I still have like 150 more individual messages that have multiple poll requests on them to get through before I open it again

Well that's going to be all for this post again. And I hope at least someone found this entertaining or informative or at least something. There will probably be another one of these in the future

hello beloved mutual lixxen. im curious of about danny phantom! ive seen your reblogs of it, and i was wondering if you could explain the premise of it? bc my memory of it was a kids show from nickelodeon, but it seems super popular. is it still running??

anyways it seems kind of fun, im thinking of starting it

Welcome back to Lixx explaining hyperfixations!!

Danny Phantom is a children's cartoon from 2004 that has three seasons and a graphic novel (that came out last year) (the show has been done for twenty years)

It focuses on Daniel Fenton, who is a 14 year old who lives in a small town somewhere in the northern Midwest of the US (near Wisconsin but not in it). His parents are scientists/inventors who are obsessed with ghosts. They create a portal that should bring them to the Ghost Zone, a special realm that ghosts come from, but it doesn't work. Danny does inside of it and turns it on, which turns him into a Halfa. A Halfa is a half ghost, half human. He canonically dies twice in the show. I will not elaborate on how this kid just dies a few times.

The show follows Danny and his friends (and various classmates and reoccurring cast) as he learns how to use his powers and fight off ghosts along the way!

The cast includes:

His older sister Jazz, who is actually a really good big sister who cares a lot even if she's overbearing

Sam, his main love interest who is a Jewish goth girl and doesn't eat meat

His best friend Tucker, who is a techno nerd who loves meat

The A-Listers, who are the popular kids

Valerie, who is a love interest and enemy at certain points

His parents Maddie and Jack, who are overbearing and can be kinda crazy at times

Vlad, his not uncle who is fucking insane and a main bad guy. In love with Maddie

Plus various others!!

The fandom is very active and old. There are regular Tumblr/AO3 events that happen every year with a schedule and there is a steady fanon that has been built around the show that is basically canon (or supported by the canon). The creator, Butch Hartman, is a bigoted asshole who everyone hates.

The show is very fun and it is bingeable. It has a specific formula and is predictable at times. But also, it's very grim because you slowly realize that this 14 year old kid is literally carrying the weight of a realm on his shoulders and is living a double life where his parents basically want him dead and gone while loving his alive self

The fandom loves gore/whump.

I'm not kidding.

I have written a handful of gore fics for this show and tbh they're not even the worst things ever. If you've ever want to see some of the most jaw dropping whump and gore, this fandom has it.

We have fics that are literally the best written alternate universes and have nothing to do with the original show besides characters and death. Like. There's bound books of that specific fic. I haven't read it but it's long and it will make you sob

Some things that are lore building/fanon shit that everyone knows:

Ghost obsessions (you'll know it when you see it)

Ghost cores having specific effects on ghosts (it's canon but not really talked about in canon for more than two seconds)

Danny having allergic reactions to blood blossoms outside of his ghost form

Ghost speak being a ghost language all ghosts speak

Wes Weston and Kyle Weston being unnamed background characters that the fans took and made into full characters. It's actually cool as fuck. They're fully functioning characters and I love them

Death echoes/death days

I will warn that whatever feelings you have regarding to ships needs to be kicked to the side. All things go for ships here. Don't like the ship/don't condone it, don't interact with ir. You will waste your breath trying to play police over ship

Ships also have names. Platonic AND romantic ships. Here's some I can name off the top of my head:

Pitch pearl: Danny/Phantom (Danny gets split into a ghost and human form at one point)

Amethyst ocean: Danny/Sam

Savant Par: Danny/Tucker

Everlasting trio: Danny/Tucker/Sam

Badger cereal: Danny & Vlad (I think????)

Swagger Bishie/Golden Twinkie: dash/Danny

Pink astronaut: Danny/Paulina

Gray Ghost: Danny/Valerie

So yeah lol

This is my most read fic I think. I am gonna start writing again for DP soon. I love reading them

(here's my AO3 fic tags from my bookmarks for DP)

My HTTYD Books Fanfic Ideas

Greetings, my fellow Dragonmarkers! I just wanted to post this for you guys as I tell you what my plans are in regards to fanfics for the HTTYD Book Fandom.

Besides my “A Birthday to Remember” short story which is still in-progress, and the odd one-shot, here are some projects that I’d like to do for 2020-2022:

Companions of the Dragonmark — Platonic Pairings Series

This work, as you already know from a previous post, focuses on platonic pairings in this series. There will be various types, such as human/dragon, human/weapon, human/human, human/pet, etc. Also includes friends, family, mentor/student, and stranger relationships. This will be the main series I will be working on after “A Birthday to Remember”.

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Antagonistic Pairings Series

This work is something that I’ve just recently came up with, which focuses on antagonistic pairings. This can be pairings between hero/villain, villain/villain, villain/antagonist, hero/antagonist, antagonist/antagonist, etc. Pairings can include, Hiccup and Alvin, Snotlout and Thuggory, Alvin and Excellinor, UG the Uglithug and Excellinor, Madguts and Big Bertha, Snotlout and Hiccup, etc.

I’m liking this because nobody really writes fanfics that focuses on antagonistic pairings. Only romantic and platonic pairings.

What do you guys think?

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Wilderwest Whumpfest

This idea was cooked up thanks to recent posts announcing Whumptober 2020. Granted, I don’t plan on doing it for this Fandom, but I do plan on still doing this work — a collection of one-shots focusing on whumping various characters in the series. I’d LOVE to hear what you’d like to see and if this sounds like a great idea. ^_^

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A Tale of Two Swords

This idea has been stewing in the back of mind for about a year now. This is basically a story told from the perspective of Endeavor, the Dragonsword, as he narrates the story and tells us how he came to be and we’ll see his thoughts and perspective not only throughout the lives of Hiccup the First and his line, but also Grimbeard the Ghastly, Hiccup the Second, and Hiccup the Third, and following up all up into the finale of Book 12. Essentially, this IS a Saga. Somewhere along the way, the Stormblade will be introduced and we’ll get into his POV as well once he is born. needless to say that there’ll be a rivalry between the two — though Endeavor just doesn’t care and ignores Stormblade whenever possible. I mean, the Dragonsword is around 1000 years old already, and the Stormblade is acting all macho for a newborn hunk of shiny metal. In Endeavor’s “eyes”, Stormblade be an infant. lol XD

Also, I just REALLY love Endeavor. (I have an old post that talks all about that here.) One of my favorite characters in the series, despite it being a sword and not a human or an animal character. But I can feel him humming with personality... if that makes sense? But I’ve always had a special love for personification. Ever since I was young and studied literature in middle school, personification has always been my most favorite plot device. I can’t really explain why. Maybe it’s because it’s fun? Getting into the minds of inanimate objects, animals, nature, etc and imagining what they would say and act and feel if they could speak and communicate? It’s fun for ME, at least. ^_^

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Exile on Cannibal Isle

This story idea is another one that’s been stewing in my brain for about a year or less, give or take. (I’m quite proud of the title, if I do say so myself. Hehe.) This is basically a what-if scenario, a canon divergence, that focuses on what would happen should Hiccup and the others were exiled the night that they should’ve been. That would’ve been interesting to see. I mean, of course, it would mean that 800+ Hooligans and Meatheads would perish, but such is the life of a Saga character(s). ^_^

Other alternative (and more likely) scenarios could be:

1) Hiccup, Thuggory, and the others still get banished after the demise of the Green Death (because Vikings are jerks).

or 2) Hiccup fails to get Toothless in time so he ends up being the only one in his group to NOT have a dragon, and thus is immediately exiled (in winter, yay).

(If you guys can come up with better scenarios, let me know.)

Now, Cannibal Isle is on the map on the Book of Dragons extra book. You won’t find it anywhere else. (That being said, the Isle DOES get mentioned by Hiccup in the epilogue of Book 4: “How to Cheat a Dragon’s Curse”. Only other time.)

Now in Book 1, while they mention that the kids will be exiled on the Mainland, it mentions cannibals. Of course, in Book 8, it mentions that the Vikings of the Western Archipelago hate sailing anywhere near the Eastern side (the Mainland), so it seems contradictory, in my opinion, for them to send the kids there into exile. So when I saw this map, and saw that there was an island called “Cannibal Isle”, it made sense to me. A place where cannibals exist, and it’s close by from the Inner Isles.

What do you think? Should they be exiled on Cannibal Isle or on the Mainland? Which sounds better?

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Thuggory’s Tale

This story idea is yet another one that I’ve been thinking on doing for awhile now. This essentially is Thuggory’s story, and focuses on HIS POV throughout the 12 books — including and especially his views and thoughts concerning Hiccup. I mean, the guy DESERVES to have a book that’s all about HIM, right?! He’s so cool! I’m such a Thuggory fan! I wish I had a brother like him. I envy Hiccup. lol ^_^

The bromance is strong with this one. lol XD

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Quest for Wilderwest — Quest for Camelot AU

This work, as you already know on a previous post, will be a Quest for Camelot AU involving the HTTYD Book characters. Since I’ve already gotten a lot of feedback on this already, I might end up doing this story first as my first multi-chapter story. But we’ll see. ;-)

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Fishlegs’s Impossible Quest 2

This work I just thought up about a month ago. This is what the title says. Fishlegs SECOND Quest! This time, trying to win Barbara’s hand in marriage — much to Hiccup’s ire. (What is with this guy and these Valkyrie princesses?) I’m debating whether Hiccup should tag along, or if he should stay since he IS the KING. Maybe give Fishlegs Camicazi, instead? Along with some warriors from his Tribe, of course. Him being a Chief and all that. Needless to say, Hiccup and Camicazi will NEEEEVER let Fishlegs live this one down, regardless if he succeeds or not.

Speaking of which, SHOULD I have Fishlegs succeed? Or should I let him fail... again? I mean, would Barbara even be interested in a guy who’s allergic to her CAT?!

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The Wilderwest Saga

The title is what it says it is. It’s about the story AFTER the series, that focuses on the reign of King Hiccup the Third and co. and how the Wilderwest came to be, what Hiccup did during his life, his future wife and family, etc. It’ll also focus on the other characters and their lives as well. I’m very excited about this one as well. And I’m sure you are, too.

Maybe I’ll get lucky one day and Cressida Cowell will read it and be like, “Oh, what a great idea! I’ll write a sequel series focusing on Hiccup the Third’s reign and finally bring a conclusion to Hiccazi.” 

I mean, it’s wishful thinking, but a guy can dream, can’t he? lol XD

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Hiccup the First’s Saga

This work will be a Saga focusing on Hiccup the First and his story, from his birth, to the events of the First Dragon War, to him being the First King and the details of his reign, of his conflict against the Romans and the Uglithugs — essentially filling out the blanks in the life of one extraordinary character that most resembles Hiccup the Third.

Hiccup the Second’s Saga

This work will be focusing on Hiccup the Second’s story, and will be the sequel of Grimbeard’s Saga (or Hiccup the First’s Saga). It will focus on his life with the dragons, his reunion with his father, his life at the palace, his adventures, his conflicts with his father and eldest brother... his death (which, even in a saga, was messed up).

Oh, aaaaand I might have him find love as well. Hehe. Because the books never specify how old he was when he died. And if he was a rebel and went to the library, spoke Dragonese, took the Dragonmark, freed the slaves multiple times, I have a feeling that Hiccup might’ve fallen in love with one of these slaves and married her in secret and had a child through her, whose line eventually led to the Druid Guardian.

So, yeah, this Saga’s gonna get messy... and juicy. Hehe. ^_^

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Possible Projects:

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Hiccup the Third’s Saga

This work will be a more realistic version of the HTTYD Book series — similar to what you’d see in a Viking Saga, like those for the other two Hiccups. However, this does not mean that the plot will be seriously changed. It just means that I’ll be getting rid of some of the more... exaggerated and absurd parts of the plot that wouldn’t happen in real life. I’ll also be getting rid of the horned helmets and make the Tribes more Viking-y. And I’ll be adding more historical elements into the story, along with those of the previous two Hiccups.

I’m debating whether to get rid of the Dragonese/talking dragons element to the story (having it like the movie franchise), or if I should keep it. What do you think?

Termagant’s Tale

This work will be a story focusing on Fishlegs’s mother, Termagant. How she grew up, how she lived, how she met and fell in love with Alvin the Fake Fisherman, how she felt when he disappeared and how she gave birth... and how she was forced to get rid of her baby. Every single thing. I’m not sure whether to do this from Termagant’s POV, or if I should do it through the eyes of Arrogance, Patience, and Innocence, her Deadly Shadow, and have it be as if they’re telling Fishlegs the tale of his mother from their eyes. 

What do you think?

Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Saga

This work will be focusing on the life of Grimbeard the Ghastly, from his birth to his death. Every detail will be noted, every story shall be heard, and every scene shall be seen. Even the stories of him that you DO know won’t tell you everything. This Saga will further detail and add on to those stories. Including his marriage to Chinhilda, his war against the Uglithugs, his raiding expeditions, his reign as King, his questionable and outright foolish decisions — the whole shebang!

Disclaimer: While I will try my very best, it is most likely that he won’t be such a nice and relatable character to like.

Modern AU series

This work will a collection of one-shots focusing on the HTTYD Book characters in the modern day. The reason why I have this here, rather than farther up, is because I don’t have many ideas for one-shots in this AU. So I would appreciate any prompts and character choices to help me in this, and maybe I might just get working on this if I end up getting enough.

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Anyway, these are the projects that I hope to do in the next couple of years. (If I’m still alive by then, that is.) These stories will probably take time and I’ll probably be focusing on the top 3 since they’ll be one-shots, basically, so they’ll be easier for me to write. But I will be choosing a multi-chapter story idea and working on it.

While I won’t be working on these quite as much since I have other accounts and other Fandoms that I place higher priorities on, I will be working on these as much as I can, despite my schedule. This Fandom holds a special place in my heart and I want to contribute as much as I can so that fans can continue reading recent fanfics for this precious Fandom. ^_^

So tell me what you think? Any titles that interest you? Let me know either in the comments or reblogs.

Headcanons Nobody Asked for... (1/3)

I asked two of my friends who have never seen or read Kimetsu no Yaiba to give me headcanons for different characters! They know a few details or names from me talking about it but they still don’t know a lot.

I sent them the character’s official anime design/silhouette/whatever it’s called plus a second pic (usually a screenshot). I added the screenshots I sent them, ‘cause why not?

They’ve dubbed themselves Fish and Ferret for the purpose of this post. This whole experience was chaotic...

Hashira this time:

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Mitsuri

- “Watermelon wife!”

- “She makes cookie dough just to eat it... doesn’t make the cookies”

- “Doesn’t shave her legs and will cut anyone who gives her crap for it”

- “She can’t be trusted to go into target alone otherwise she will buy the entire snack aisle”

- “Also one time she tried to bring a sword to the airport and got mad when security tried to take it away”

- “She snores”

Giyuu

- “Played the bagpipes ONE TIME and now everyone gives him shit for it”

- “He has two little sisters and he paints their nails for them”

- “He holds the snacks when everyone goes on adventures”

- “He’s hiding friendship bracelets on his ankles under those socks”

- “His pants WILL fall down without that belt and he makes sure everyone around him knows it”

- “Wears pants two sizes too large so he has room to do cartwheels and hide snacks in them”

- “Lets everyone play with his hair when they get stressed and it’s surprisingly soft “

- “Definitely puts product in his hair but denies it”

Sanemi

- “Takes off his shirt whenever he can just to prove that he does in fact have abs”

- “Eats hot Cheetos and thinks they’re spicy... Will fuck you up if you try to take one without asking”

- “The softest dude bro you’ll ever meet but he can still kick your ass”

- “Will destroy you in mini golf with no mercy”

- “I feel like he wears mascara to fancy events”

- “He had an mcr phase in middle school and never recovered”

- “Secretly plays the banjo but only when extremely drunk”

- “He holds his pencils dead wrong and is too stubborn to admit it”

- “Got lost in an ikea once and destroyed several hundred dollars worth of furniture trying to find his friends”

Shinobu

- “Unironically uses “uwu” while texting”

- “Pretends to be civil to her exes but still has massive grudges against them for tiny dumb things”

- “Will spend hours in the butterfly room at the museum trying to make friends with all the butterflies”

- “Will pull the “oh, you haven’t heard?” thing if she does anything dumb”

- “Has broken the toes of boys who were harassing her friends”

- “Squished a bug by accident once and started sobbing and quoting hamlet”

- “An absolute slut for themed gift baskets”

- “Has to smell all the scented candles but never buys any”

Uzui

- “Absolute crackhead”

- “Stole a shopping cart once and still has it in his basement somewhere”

- “Bedazzles his jeans”

- “Once jumped out of a tree with a makeshift parachute and was surprised when it didn’t work”

- “Scared of spiders”

- “Has a youtube channel where the only videos are him doing dumb shit”

Gyomei

- “ “Guys come on, it’s not jewelry!” “

- “A big softie but refuses to admit it”

- “His friends quote vines a lot and he doesn’t get it”

- “Frequently gets lost from the group while stopping to tie his shoe”

- “Very passionate about saving the bees”

Muichirou

- “Soft!!”

- “Regularly calls people out for being idiots but is just trying to keep everyone safe”

- “He looks for smooth rocks and takes them home just because”

- “Was the kid who sat in the outfield and made daisy chains for his friends during baseball practice”

- “He spends 10 minutes lint-rolling cat hair off his clothes before he leaves the house”

- “Owns 20 pairs of the same socks because they were on sale”

Iguro

- “He orders food for his Snek at restaurants and makes sure there’s no egg in it because his Snek is allergic”

- “Snuggles with Snek during the winter to make sure Snek stays warm”

- “Has ink all over his hands from artwork”

- “Crochets tiny Snek hats! Gives them as gifts and no one knows what to do with them”

- “Snek draws too and he hangs the pictures up in his house”

- “Gives other people haircuts and they’re surprisingly good”

Kyojuro

- “Fights crocodiles and refuses to see why it isn’t a good idea”

- “Can and will fight anything that moves”

- “Will drink until he passes out if he’s trying to beat someone else”

- “Challenges people to push-up contests for fun. Everyone hates it”

- “Always the one who comes up with bad ideas that somehow end up working”

- “Bleached his hair by himself once and refuses to acknowledge the fact that it was ever a different color”

- “Shaved the ends of his eyebrows off on a whim and keeps them like that only because everyone hates them”

I then asked them about some canon things and who they thought applied to who as well as asking about their friendships

“Who would you ship?”

- “I ship hot cheeto boy and shopping cart man” / “I feel like they have the most potential chaotic energy together” (Sanemi and Uzui)

- “Butterfly girl and bagpipe boy are possibly together and it’s the softest thing ever” (Shinobu and Giyuu)

“Who do you think has multiple spouses?”

- “Doesn’t get vines guy has a fuck ton of wives but they’re all buds so it’s fine” (Gyomei)

“One is trained by the other, who is that?”

- “Mui is being trained by butterfly girl” (Shinobu)

“More of a fandom thing but which one gets bullied by the others?”

- “I think flame haired bleach boy gets absolutely roasted by everyone but they keep him around because he knows how to have a good time” (Kyo)

“Who are friends?”

“Snek and Mui are buds!”

Flower Person

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Maria Campanella/Iméon

Summary: Iméon wasn’t the kind of person to care about flowers and she never liked receiving these as gifts, but could she really refuses it when a pretty blond woman she doesn’t know show up on her doorstep with a bouquet of lilies? [Femslash February 2021 Day 24: Lily]

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: So, I admit I actually tend to headcanon Iméon as being nonbinary/trans masc, which wouldn’t really fit a femslash event, but well as far we know in FataMoru canon she still identifies as a woman. Another headcanon of mine is that Iméon does remember her past life even after being reincarnated (which is what happens in the short story ‘Tír na nÓg’), and I wrote the fic with that in mind. Also I know Iméon likely just goes by ‘Noémi’ in the modern era, but… weh, I’m too used to refer to her as ‘Iméon’ lol.

This takes place after Reincarnation so spoilers for all the games, and there are also brief references to the short story ‘Girl Hunt Girl.’ (If you don’t know about it, it’s just a very short post-Reincarnation story where Iméon meets Ceren in Paris by saving her from a conman.) And warning for slight drinking/alcohol, I guess.

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Iméon had never been a flower person.

It wasn’t like she hated them or anything, but she couldn’t really unsderstand what people found so captivating or pretty about these plants. They smelled nice, sometimes, she supposed — but that was the extent of the qualities she’d gave them.

She had told as much to Michel once when they stopped by a flower shop so he could buy a few roses for his wife — the fact this guy ended up getting married was still mind-boggling to her even months after she’d learned that fact — and he laughed, saying he used to think the same ‘back then’ but that now he couldn’t help but love them. He hadn’t explained to her how this change of heart happened, but Iméon could guess pretty easily it was also a courtesy of Giselle.

In any case, that was also why people never offered her flowers as gifts, either — the only time she could remember this happened was when she was maybe eight or so and her grandma had given her a bouquet of hydrangeas. Iméon had never been able to tell the absentminded sweet old lady that she couldn’t care less about those flecks of blue-purplish petals and she’d unfortunately had to keep them in her room against her will until they withered.

Tonight, however, would mark the second time of flower-offering she’d received in her life, because the first thing she saw upon opening the door after it rang twice was a huge bouquet of lilies, followed by a turf of messy, short blond hair and a pair of clear green eyes that popped out just barely above the white bell-shaped plants.

“So, okay, here’s the thing,” her visitor started, trying to speak clearly in spite of the enormous gift in her arms that was camouflaging almost all of her upper body. “That’s kind of a long story, but bear with me. There’s this dude where I work — a client — who sort of got a crush on me. Not, like, the creepy kind, but still pretty annoying. He hit on me a few times, and despite me trying to fucking tell him subtly, ‘Hey, dude, not interested, let it go,’ he brought me this tonight upon seeing me. I thought at first about throwing it away in the trash cause flowers are not my thing, you see? But then my boss — I mean Giselle, you know her too, right? — threw a damn fit, ‘bout how it wasn’t nice for him and those were such beautiful flowers or something, so I was like ‘then take them cause I don’t want this’ but she refused cause Michel is allergic to lilies or something and — who the fuck even is allergenic to goddamn lilies? Anyway, after that I—”

Iméon blinked incredulously, trying to makes sense of why there was a short irritated blond woman with a thick Italian accent she didn’t know in front of her who kept rambling on and on at her at eight in the evening. She seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t recall why — where had she seen her before?

“—asked my stupid childhood friend cause of course she’s the kind of gal who’s into flowers and stuff, except I forgot she was in Amsterdam to introduce her creepy boyfriend to her parents, but as a result the only person left was fucking Jacopo and I sure as hell wasn’t going to show up to this dumbass’ door to give him some lilies — and then it hit me; ‘Oh, there’s this chick who’s friends with Michel and Ceren and doesn’t live far away, so why not check her out!’ And so here I am.” She finally stopped and breathed in deeply. “So. Yeah. Want some lilies?”

The names of Michel and Ceren awakened Iméon’s memories and she realized it was, indeed, because of these two that this woman was familiar to her. More than a year ago, she had met Ceren by coincidence and helped her out of some trouble and since then they’d become good friends, and she managed to meet Michel again a few months later. Seeing her old friend from a past life neither of them should remember had been quite a shock — though a pleasant one — but discovering that somehow he’d gotten married to a bubbly lady and now lived in the same building as the goddamn little witch who’d messed around with them had been quite confusing. And to top it off, apparently Michel also knew Ceren because she herself was friends with said little witch. Fate really was a funny thing.

In any case, about three weeks ago she’d briefly gotten introduced to this woman by Giselle, but it had been a five minutes meeting so the encounter had quickly left her mind. If she recalled her name was… Martha? Marianne…? Mar—

“Oh, Maria,” she suddenly said out loud, snapping her fingers, and the woman frowned at her.

“What?”

“Your name. It’s Maria. Right?”

“Wait, you only now remembered who I was?”

“Yep.”

“Maria is like, the less forgettable name in the world? How did you do to forget that?”

“Sorry. I’m just not good with names. And faces. And people.”

A big silence propagated between the two of them, and then Iméon cleared her throat.

“You know… if you wanted to ask me out on a date, you could’ve just… said that. Or ask Michel my number or something.”

Maria arched an eyebrow at her, looking genuinely surprised. “What? Wait, no, that wasn’t… it’s not what it’s about.”

“No?”

“If I wanted to ask you out, I’d just do that. I’m not the kind of person to make excuse or beat around the bush.”

Iméon literally knew nothing about this woman, but somehow she could believe that.

“Oh. Okay. So it’s… really just about the lilies.”

“Yeah.” Maria marked a pause. “It did sounds less weird in my head when I thought about coming here. But I’m just, uh… a bit desperate to get rid of these.”

Iméon hummed thoughtfully and crossed her arms. Desperate was indeed quite an apt descriptor — her hair was all disheveled, her clothes unkempt and she appeared out of breath, as if she had run left and right for a long time to try to get someone who’d agree to take in the huge bouquet.

Iméon wasn’t a flower person, but… she didn’t mind accepting a few lilies for this one time.

“All right. I’ll take it,” she conceded, and Maria seemed so relieved to hear that it was almost comical.

Iméon gathered the flowers into her arms, the soft perfume tickling her nostrils and the petals brushing her cheeks, and then she turned around towards Maria once again. She was clearly about to leave and go down the stairs, but somehow Iméon felt a tinge of pity for her to have to yet again hurry to go home, so she grasped her wrist.

“Hey, no need to rush out of here. I was just about to eat something, so… Wanna have dinner with me?”

“What? Really?”

Iméon flashed her a smile. “Sure. I mean, you’re a friend of Michel, so I’d feel bad to just let you go home like that.”

Maria stared at her in silence for a while, as if hesitating, then returned her smile. “Oh well. Not like I had anything else to do anyway.”

And so the both of them stepped into the small two-room apartment together — the inside was a mess, to be honest, with various clothes and papers laying around, but Iméon didn’t care in the least and neither did Maria apparently as she threw herself on the couch without eve asking. Iméon somehow managed to install the lilies in an empty jar on the table, then tranquilly started to prepare their meal. The dinner only consisted of a quick reheat from yesterday’s leftovers and Iméon had always been far from being a super good cook, but it didn’t matter much as the room quickly got filled with cheerful chats and laughters. They talked about their common friends and then their jobs and movies and Maria’s home country, and while Iméon wouldn’t reveal too much about herself and was careful to keep her walls up even once they added a few beers in the mix, she had to admit she felt quite comfortable with this woman whom she couldn’t even remember the name a few hours prior.

Maria was a fun and easygoing person to talk to and despite her crude words and rough attitude she had a smile as bright as the sun, and it just felt nice to be around her.

“So you’ve only moved in here recently?” Maria asked.

“I don’t like to stay in a same place for too long. That’s just not in my blood. I travel a lot too, went to a bunch of different countries…”

“Hmm. I get that. I traveled around quite a bit too before coming to Paris.” She sighed, then stared vacantly at her beer. “I wonder if I should try going moving somewhere else again. I mean, I like it here, but…”

Maria fell silent, suddenly looking surprisingly melancholic. But in a way, Iméon felt she could understand that. She herself had spent most of her life jumping from a place to another ever since her parents kicked her out of the family house, and she liked living that way, but occasionally she wondered if it wouldn’t be best to find somewhere to truly settle in and call home. Maybe she envied Michel’s stable life a little bit for having this, or Ceren’s airheadness for never even questioning what the future might held in for her.

In that sense, she got the feeling Maria was more similar to her because of that. Weird, given she’d basically been a stranger to her only a few hours ago.

As Iméon was still lost in her thought, Maria abruptly rose up from her chair, almost knocking over the lilies from the table. “Oh, wow, fuck! I didn’t realize it had so damn gotten so late! I should go now.”

Iméon looked at the clock, and it was indeed already past three AM. She also had not noticed the time flee at all.

“You sure you don’t want to spend the night here?” Iméon asked while Maria hurriedly put on her coat. “I mean, we did drink quite a bit, and there’s no metro at this time…”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll call a taxi or something. Ugh, and tomorrow I have to work… I’m going to be a fucking mess and Giselle’s gonna have my head.”

“Giselle?” Iméon repeated, because she didn’t know Michel’s wife all that well but somehow she couldn’t picture her as the kind of employer who’d got angry at anyone.

“Yeah, she seems all cute and sweet like that, but she’s actually fucking scary and ultra perfectionist at work. Don’t let her fool you.”

“Huh… I’ll remember that.”

Maria grabbed her last beer and gobbled up all that was left of it in one shot, before quickly heading towards the door. She stopped her pace on the doorstep, however, and turned around towards Iméon.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, smirking. “It was fun. Let’s do this again.”

“Sure. No problem.”

Maria stared at her, seemed to hesitate, then finally leaned forward and kissed her. It was a pretty brief kiss, lips only brushing against each other, but Iméon still hadn’t really expected it and she blinked back at her when she pulled back.

“I thought the bouquet wasn’t an excuse?”

“It wasn’t,” Maria argued. “That was just as thanks for the meal. Now, I really have to go, so see ya!”

She waved at her with a smug smirk, as if she was quite proud of herself for what she had just done, and then disappeared in the stairs. Iméon still felt pretty confused, but she was much too tired to try to think more about it.

So she got back inside her place, locked the door, and found herself face to face alone with the big bouquet of lilies.

For a brief second, she felt kind of bad for the guy who’d bought it for Maria in the first place, and it was kind of annoying she’d have to keep that bouquet until it wither away like her grandmother’s hydrangeas, but…

If it meant she’d get to have a fun evening dinner and a kiss from a hot Italian woman, maybe it had been worth it.

Quick list of who’s who in the borrower au because I need to get this outta my head!

Hannah: Borrower. Skittish and slow to trust when it comes to anyone who isn’t Lex for the most part, though she does talk more to Ethan than most strangers. She doesn’t go out borrowing much— only with Lex— so when one of her few trips alone end in discovery, she goes into a full panic.

Lex: Borrower. Although she’s the one who taught Hannah the rules of borrowing, she breaks them on the regular to give the kid something to smile about. Confrontational and suspicious of newcomers— especially humans, thanks to the fact that her mother was allegedly eaten by one— Ethan’s on thin fucking ice, though... it’d be easier to hate him if he wasn’t so nice.

Ethan: Human. He really, really didn’t expect to find little people living in his walls if he’s being honest, though he’s very gentle with Hannah. He is, however, standoffish with Lex due to the fact that their first meeting involved a stab wound to the back of his hand from a thumbtack. He leaves stuff out for them and writes notes to Lex and Hannah, though they usually don’t write back.

Tom: Borrower. After his wife died, Tom became a lot more reckless in his borrowing. He doesn’t mean to be so gruff and unapproachable, but Jane’s death left him broken. He’s a distant father, and Emma has to do a lot of his borrowing for him. He’s tangled with Wiggly a few times, and in truth, he wants what’s best for Tim, even though he has a weird way of showing it.

Tim: Borrower. He loves his dad lots, but understands that things aren’t like they used to be, so for the most part, he stays in the walls. Him and Hannah get along okay when they interact, and he adores spending time with auntie Emma.

Becky: Borrower (yes, I know, I changed it). Tom and her had a sort of relationship in the past, however, she ended up leaving to try and broaden her horizons. When her and Tom reunite, it’s bittersweet when she shows up to the apartment and finds him injured. She makes the mistake of asking about Jane.

Frank: Human. Runs a chain of toy stores and keeps a clean apartment. He’s convinced that there are pests in the walls and works his damndest to lay traps to lure them out, and he’s going slowly insane, seeing traps closed and clearly set off with no victims.

Linda: Human. Lives on the top floor with her four (4) boys and her cat, Wiggly. As she is in canon, she’s very entitled and downright rude to everyone else. Sets Wiggly loose in the halls to deal with the mouse problem, and although her house is well stocked, no borrowers dare venture inside for fear of Wiggly.

Gary: Human. His apartment is a mess. He’s seen flashes of borrowers before, but always writes it off as lack of sleep. Wiggly sometimes ends up at his place for the night when Linda forgets to let him back in. Between working toward an official law degree and making a name for himself as the worst attourney to ever live, Gary’s much too busy for talk of borrowers.

Howard: Human. He’s the owner of the apartment complex, and although he enforces a strict no pets rule, he lets Wiggly stay because of the rodent problem they seem to have. Wiggly hates him. All in all a good guy, though whenever he does inspections, he can’t help but notice that there are several mouse holes in the walls that seem almost prescicely made.

John: Borrower. He keeps to himself for the most part, and he’s pretty reckless when he borrows. He’s fought with Wiggly an intense amount of times. He always carries a makeshift grapple hook and bow. He takes a liking to the Foster girls, though once he finds out about the human involvement going on in the apartment complex, he becomes even more withdrawn and elusive.

Sherman: Human. He saw a borrower one (1) time and is now a crazed conspiracy theorist, deadset on trying to capture one. He’ll stop at nothing, though his traps are laughable. The borrowers in the complex like to trip them, just for the hell of it. It’s driving Sherman nuts.

Paul: Human. He doesn’t spend too much time at home, thanks to a stressful office job, but he keeps a tidy apartment and is one of the most plain tenants Howard’s ever had to deal with. When he first discovers Emma, he sort of mentally shuts down for awhile the second she’s under a cup. Paces, grabs his hair, and spits “okay” at three hundred miles per hour.

Emma: Borrower. She’s reckless to an extent, and although she knows she should be careful— seeing as she’s risking the livelihood of every other borrower in the complex— she sort of likes fucking with Paul. When she gets caught, naturally, she flips out and demands to be let go, and she’s surprised to the point of freezing up when Paul actually listens.

Hidgens: Human. Emma’s been discovered by him, though instead of dissecting and hurting her like she thought he would, Hidgens actually becomes a pretty valuable ally. Yes, he’s a little crazy, but he leaves stuff out and he’s nice to talk to. He used to live in Linda’s old apartment, though since it had roof access, he used it for experiments. After being struck by lightning, he was moved down a few floors, and although he’s never been quite the same, he still tries his best to make sure Emma’s comfortable coming by.

Bill: Human. One of the first of Paul’s friends to get introduced to Emma. He’s gentle with borrowers, though he’s much less nervous and more inquisitive than Paul was when he first meets her. He’s not entirely sure what to think about borrowers, but he handles it as well as anyone can.

Charlotte: Borrower. She’s withdrawn, shy, and bad at borrowing, but she’s trying her best to put a good foot forward after narrowly escaping a human that meant her harm. She’s sweet to the other borrowers, specifically latching onto Emma as someone she can talk to. All her clothes are handmade and patchwork— stolen materials— and everyone in the complex has at least one sweater from her.

Ted: Human. He’s newer to the complex, and frankly, fucking hates the rat problem, thanks to hearing scratching in the walls. He doesn’t understand why Paul always gets defensive when he brings it up. His apartment is a complete mess, and he’s allergic to Wiggly. He’s easy to borrow from, seeing as he never keeps track of anything.

Oliver (because a lot of y’all care about him in this fandom, and you can’t be blamed): Borrower with Very Low Blood Sugar. He’s sweet, if not a bit nasally and rude. He truly has kind intentions, though nine times out of ten, he comes off as a know it all. He doesn’t mind— other people only slow him down. He and Lex interact, just because he’s one of the only borrowers she’s met that’s her age.

Wiggly: Linda’s terrible cat.

Apotheosis: Hidgens’ terrible snake.

Chipspeech fandom, we really need to get it together.

There’s only like 3 or 4 of us right now that are active. I’ve noticed that there’s so much division and hate among everybody and a disconcerting amount of politics being forced HARD into the whole thing. I’m allergic to politics of any kind (I mean I do have opinions but when it comes to Chipspeech keep politics of any kind away from my Chips!! They’re individual characters, not just another brick in the wall!) and it really pains me to see people making Chipspeech about political grandstanding and excluding people. Chipspeech isn’t about that, it’s about old technology, cyberpunk, robots, nostalgia and futurism simultaneously and every one of this diverse, beautiful range of characters.

We should be coming together and bonding over our shared love of these things, looking for common ground instead of things to attack each other over, and having fun- like a fandom is supposed to do. We’re a small fandom, so we’ve really got to stick together and support each other. If we just start trying to exclude people and kick people out over petty differences, then we’ve potentially lost a great contributor to the fandom, someone who could even be a good friend. A very small niche fandom like ours feels a loss of creativity way, way harder than a big one. We should also try growing the fandom! I’ve been trying to myself but I really struggle trying to find new people to tell about Chipspeech. Most of the ones I can think of to tell, I’ve already told and they don’t really care about it. But I know there’s more people like us out there, people who will absolutely fall in love with it once they find out about it. I just don’t know where they’re lurking on the Internet. 

And I can only speak for myself here, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who uses Chipspeech, and tech, cyberpunk and robots as a way to take a break from politics and arguing. I’m absolutely drowning in politics 24/7 and especially now that the US presidential election is tomorrow I’m just so sick of hearing about Donald Trump, Joe Biden and their standing on any issue known to mankind- and of course, of everybody arguing about it. I’m just beyond politics fatigued. I’ve had it crammed down my throat since... well, since even before 2020, really. I’m sure the rest of y’all get tired of hearing about this too!!

People like to talk about safe spaces- I think that the Chipspeech fandom should be a safe space, a safe space for Chipspeech fans to just kind of forget about politics, bad news and drama, and just let go. To have fun for a while free of judgment as long as you’re here, and where any interpretations of canon information are welcome. That’s one of the things I find most beautiful about fandoms, seeing what everybody does with the same information. Making up headcanons and designing alternate outfits is fun, and fleshing out extra storyline in your own way is what keeps fandoms going round.

I’m ready for our fandom to be a fandom, not a battlefield- and I’ll take any steps possible to get there! I love and appreciate every last one of y’all and am grateful that we’ve got Chipspeech in common, and hope that I can start to really bond with you guys and new people over Chipspeech and yell about robots together.

The Untamed, episode 14 - watching notes

Little note on the last ep: I love how everyone finds wwx in his inner robe absolutely 🔥🔥🔥 I mean, I agree! but it's just one less layer! It's still covering his entire body! 😂 but still, it's somehow the hottest shit any of us have ever seen :D

So, off to ep 14 *bangs head to opening melody*

He put the headband back on because he fears that lwj is nervous without it 🥺🥺🥺

How can they be so soft with each other???

And lwj's almost-smile :')

Can't write much about the arrow picking except that I honestly love how this scene is shot. The lightening, the music, the sound of them working. It all works brilliantly to build up the tension

Wait? Was that weird lightening that lwj shot into wwx head something to let them communicate by thought? The potential! 😲 My mind immediately went to thought-sharing-smut fix but then I remembered that there might even be hope for that in canon!! 😱 (or at least, some version of canon)

That's vaguely disgusting (The inside of the shell, I mean)

I'm surprised the turtle doesn't notice that there is someone walking around inside her shell

So wait ... what? There is a sword there which traps the turtle. Meaning, someone has been there before and maybe purposefully trapped it there, meaning this whole excursion was completely unnecessary. They could have just left it there and it would never have bothered anyone outside that cave. Then again, Wen chao doesn't strik me as someone to think such things through ...

Quickly, Wei Wuxian! Stab the diary with its tooth! ... wait, wrong fandom

Maybe it's not though ... there's very horcrux-like black goo coming out of the sword 😳

Tf is happening to wwx? He's hurting 🥺

Now he's... not. And he's somehow controlling the black mist and the swords ... I'm confused. Is this where the "demonic cultivation" comes in

Worried lwj is my new favourite thing on this show

Why is there random fighting in the throne room of the wen sect???

Wwx looks mildly traumatised :(

Oh wow ... I'm continuously in awe of the music choices. During this talk, you can hear the main theme (wangxian's theme, I think) in the background. But for the first time, it's played on deep, melancholic cellos. That alone gave me chills! Just, endless kudos to whoever was in charge of the soundtrack for this show!

Apparently, worried lwj is also wwx's favourite thing :')

Seriously wwx!!! He is helping you and NOW you decide to throw the "boring" back at him??

Are these two idiots allergic against genuine, heartfelt moments???

Oh god, no I take it back immediately!!!!

"Can you sing a song for me?" 😭

Hughn ... you don't understand!

There's NO trope I love more than one part of a couple singing to the other (maybe it's because that's how I like to show love. Sorry, tmi)

I'm weak guys ... 😭😭😭

He's doing it .... OMG HE'S DOING IT! and his voice is so nice and deep and ...

Okay ...line break ... I'm actually crying. I legitimately have tears running down my face

I just watched this sequence three times and I couldn't type while I watched because I COULDN'T MISS THIS!

Also I'm crying. It was hard to see anything

Just ...

...

THEY DID THAT

They did a straight up compilation of their love so far

And the song! THE SONG!! THE SONG!!!

I had suspected so before, but it's actually their love theme

And ... hugh ... lan wangji sang it ... for wei Wuxian

Apart from how f*cking meta that is, that's just... the most romantic thing you can do for mesomeone (have I mentioned that I'm weak for this ...)

And and and the compilation ...

They really know how to play a fandom, right? Like, they know

I'm speechless...

Just the fact that they do this and then they have to pretend that nope, this is completely straight, nothing to see here is absolutely bewildering to me

Hugh ... I need to calm down... I'll watch it a third time

The lantern scene was there, tooooooo!!! 😭😭😭

No, no I'm concentrating again

"What's the name of the song?" What's the name??? What is it?

(If you know, please don't tell me! I just ask these questions to get my feelings out, not because I genuinely want to know spoilers ;))

They got out. I'm almost sad. With how things were going, a few hours more in that cave and they probably would have straight up cuddled :D

Jiang Cheng allows himself to show 1, ONE second of genuin concern for his brother, before he starts acting all tough again 🤦‍♀️ *sigh*

Noooo, why did lan wanji leave??? :(

Okay, that's a good reason

Yay! They finally decided to do something about the Wen clan :D

God I love Lotus Cove :)

Again, this reminds me so much of lotr and particularly the elves. The way the camera pulled from a light background to wwx, just waking up in bed after being injured ... the only thing missing was Elrond's head floating above him :D

Woahwoahwoah, hold a second. I had to go back and pause ... is that two men kissing on the bed frame??? Is this the show's way of telling us "yes they kissed, no we couldn't show you. Here, have some heavy-handed subtext so you won't miss it"

It's senior sister :,)

And even Jiang Cheng is caring eith him, bringing him soup ... I have feelings!

And now the whole family is here *sniff*

Okay ... f*ck. I see. Jiang Cheng did so mich, wwx even tries to pull attention to it and their father/uncle still only pays attention to wwx :/

Argh, I forgot that there's still one more member to this family 🤦‍♀️

Oh f*ck her!

Just ... ugh ... that's all I'm saying about that

wwx and jiang Cheng! 😭 - they're both such emotionally constipated idiots (especially jc), but this heart to heart felt so real, you know? Like it could happen between any two brothers in their situation :')

And honestly, it's so tragic. Both of them are definitely NOT at fault for their situation, yet it always hangs over their relationship. I hate it when,in a story, the parents' baggage is transferred to their children, mostly because that's sadly how it goes most of the time

Episode finished... Going back to the song part, so I feel good again :D

These past two episodes where ... hagh ... heaven for my hurt/comfort-loving heart 🥰

And in general, I think, this one was my favourite so far!

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony (please excuse my typos, btw. I'm sure there are many) 😅

kirschwein (ch1)

will probably edit later when it’s not 3am but let’s get this posted babey

kirschwein

word count: 2127/2830 part 2/8 rating: general audiences warnings: no warnings apply category: f/m fandom: critical role (web series) relationship: jester lavorre/caleb widogast Characters: jester lavorre, caleb widogast

additional tags: let’s see how matt mercer thrusts the harpoon of canon straight through the heart of this story in like 5 episodes, somewhere between AU and canon-divergent?, established relationship, technically mechanically compliant, we can discuss the meta of greater restoration vs heal if you want

chapter 1

Despite evidence to the contrary, she thinks, Jester really is not suited for healer’s work.

To heal is one thing, certainly; one whisper to the Traveler, and a wound in Beau’s shoulder closes, or a burn on Caduceus’ palm blisters over and cools. But the work of healing - bandaging, applying poultice, splinting - that remains a mystery, even after the morning spent in the red-haired healer woman’s tent. A body really does most of the work by itself, Jester thinks, diligently elevating a young man’s shattered leg all the same, the way the woman had instructed. She croons something low and nonsensical to soothe him, as he half-cries in his half-sleep, and is thankful that her mama taught her at least a bit about the work of consolation.

To be perfectly honest, she might have been of slightly more use on the builder’s crew. Slightly.

“That’s very good, dear,” the red-haired woman smiles, only with the corners of her eyes. She finishes applying delicate-smelling balm to the frizzy side of a dwarf woman’s face, then turns to Jester. “You learn quickly.”

“Not always,” Jester admits. “Only because you showed me. If I had to learn this from a book or something, or if you were just talking me through it I would have no idea what was going on.”

“We learn in different ways,” nods the woman, in her thick, familiar accent. “I learned much of what I know from books, but they do not, ah, always have the full story.” The young man lying next to Jester groans again, and she reflexively lays a hand on his arm and hums something lullsome. “A page cannot teach that,” she says, softer, indicating.

“I could do more,” Jester ponders, “but he seems okay for now, and if anyone else gets brought in that might be worse, I don’t want to… I’d rather save it.”

“More wisdom.”

“But if no one else comes today, I can fix it no problem,” Jester says, and puffs just a touch of green sparks from her fingertips, for effect.

The older woman’s eyes crease, again, the way they had earlier that morning, when Jester first arrived, when she first set her fingertips to the gashes clawed in a half-elf child’s back and asked Please, Traveller, make it stop hurting. Not in a smiling way, and not for longer than an instant, but long enough for Jester to see, and to vanish the green sparks with a small noise like a weasel’s squeak.

“You are talented,” murmurs the red-haired woman, and the rain slowly pattering away at the canvas above them drums a little harder and faster.

“I hope Caduceus is okay,” Jester says, as if she could look through canvas walls and summon him, dripping but cheerful.

“He is allergic to water?” the woman says, unblinking, and it takes Jester seconds to realize she’s joking.

“Yes,” she deadpans back, in her best mimic of Caleb - and there was a pang, she hadn’t seen him all day - but the woman actually laughs, small but full.

“He will be alright,” she says. “I am sure the apothecary is… overworked, today.”

“He’s better at this kind of thing,” Jester says. “Healing without, uh. Cheating. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I am grateful for your help,” the red-haired woman says, firmly, seating herself by the small brazier in the center of the tent. “Normally, they,” with a small circle of the hand, to her patients, “would be cared for at the hospital, but. You saw the state of the hospital, after...” And after a long pause, “I do not think of it as cheating.”

Jester sits, mindful of the patients resting. The woman continues to stare into the glowing coals.

“We simply have different ways of accomplishing the same task,” she says, finally. “You are skilled as you are, dear.”

A blush purples faintly over Jester’s cheeks “You sound like my - friend,” she says. How do I refer to Caleb, exactly?

“Hmm?” says the woman. “She is smart, then.”

“He’s so smart,” says Jester, eagerness creeping in at the edges of her voice. “I meant you sound the same like you have the same accent. He’s Zemnian, too.”

“Is he a healer, also?”

Jester shakes her head. “He usually needs me to like, put his arms and legs back on after a fight or something. But he’s really good at other stuff.”

“A mage, then,” and that same small ghosting look gathers in the corner of her eyes, and dissipates just as quickly. “That will be useful, if your aim is to hunt these creatures. They are quite strong.” There is a small pop from one of the glowing coals. “My husband was a soldier, and he only barely managed to slay one of them, once. I nearly had to put his arms and legs back on myself.” A suggestion of a smile turns at the woman’s mouth. “He is… not in his fighting prime, of course. That was one of the few times I have thanked the gods for his hard-headedness. I think he was simply too stubborn to bleed out.”

“Oh my God, Caleb is so stubborn sometimes,” agreement spills from Jester, and the woman cocks an eyebrow.

“Your - friend?” she says, with a suggestion, lilted and understanding, and Jester takes pause.

“Well - yes, and also - I mean, we’re together, but - it’s so hard, when we’re with this big group, you know, like - you never get any time to yourself as it is, and it hasn’t been that long…” Jester’s words trail off into a small, exasperated sigh.

“My goodness,” the woman laughs again, this time fuller. “I do not miss being young, my dear, it seems just as complicated as I remember.”

“It wouldn’t be, if…” and Jester trails off again. If we weren’t worried about everybody making it weird? or for a shameful instant, if he could let himself be happy for longer than a few minutes at a time? although that one Jester quickly sweeps away.

The woman filled her pause. “Well, I’m sorry to say you signed up for stubbornness with that one, if he’s a Zemnian boy. My husband is this way, and my son.” There is a hitch to her voice, near the end, catching over son in a way Jester can’t miss. The pitched canvas above them thrums harder still beneath the rain. “He was a mage, as well.”

“Your son?” Jester says, carefully.

“Yes,” and the woman’s voice peters out into something like a whisper, carrying something heavy and unmistakable.

“I’m sorry,” Jester says simply.

“Thank you,” the woman replies. The wind and rain somewhat quiet, and eventually she picks up again with the smallest of shakes of her head. “From where in the Zemni Fields is your friend, dear?”

“Oh, uh. I’m not actually sure, he doesn’t really like to talk about it.”

Nodding, “Many lives were difficult, before, after the first war. I cannot blame him. Well, if you are going to be in town for a few days, you are welcome to pay us a visit. Gods know there aren’t enough friendly faces near, especially for strangers.”

“That’s very kind, thank you.”

“And if it helps, you can tell him we’re from Blumenthal. He probably won’t know where that is, it’s such a small village, but. Who knows.”

“I will.”

“I’m back, Miss Una,” the canvas flap at the front of the tent mutters open, and Caduceus ducks inside, stray strands of pink slicked to his otherwise-placid face. “They were out of yarrow, I hope you don’t mind, I asked for comfrey instead. Jester, I saw the weirdest thing,” he says, depositing a large pouch on a nearby work table. “I thought this guy out there was Caleb for a minute, it was freaky.”

“Caduceus,” Jester says, in mock disappointment, hoping the points of her teeth don’t belie the joke, “It wasn’t actually Caleb, right?”

“No, when I got closer it was an older gentleman. One of the guys working on the hospital,” he replies. “They look really similar though. I know everyone’s supposed to have a doppelganger here and there, but. Huh.”

“On the hospital?” Una says, frowning. “The only older man working there would be my husband, I think. Tall, brown hair, short cropped?”

“Yeah! That’s him,” Caduceus says, with seemingly no opinion beyond. He digs through the pouch until he finds a vial of greenish liquid, and turns to crouch over the young woman he had left previously, the one with a deep gash just above her collarbone.

As the glow from the coals dances over the woman’s red hair, something begins to gnaw at Jester.

“Miss Una,” she says finally, drawing closer, as one might draw close to an animal that may bolt. “You said you were from Blumenthal?”

“Yes?”

“How - when did you come to Druvenlode, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh,” she says, drawing out a small tilt of her head. “It’s been seventeen years, soon.”

“Hmm,” Jester says, hoping her nonchalance can pass for acknowledgement rather than processing her thought. She creeps further still. “Miss Una.”

Something begins to be wary about the woman’s eyes. “Yes, Jester?”

“Why did you and your husband come here?”

She tenses into rigid politeness, even as her crest falls:

“I - we. We were moved here, after the death of my son.”

“You were moved here? You didn’t move here yourselves?”

“Well, no, we were - this is really not something I would like to discuss, Jester,” says Una.

“Please, forgive me, but - it’s really, really important. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

“We were offered to move, yes. My son was - he died at school. The Academy offered to relocate us, as recompense.”  She tightens further, everywhere but her eyes. “It was difficult to leave, at first, but eventually the memories became too - strong, in that house. And so we accepted.”

“The Academy? The Soltryce Academy?”

“What is this about?” Una stands, and Jester sees Caduceus tense as well, before he finishes his work and slowly turns to face them.

“I can explain everything, I promise, I just - need to know. Your son was a mage? And he died - he died seventeen years ago?”

“Uh, Jester…” she hears Caduceus begin, and he approaches, but her focus is trained on the burning brown eyes of the red-haired woman before her. Una stares, stone-faced, calculating.

“Caduceus, this is like, critically important, I need you to trust me,” she says, and perhaps it is because she rarely speaks with such urgency, but he backs down, drawing slowly closer to her instead of between the two women. Jester plays her fingertips over the holy symbol at her belt, and murmurs a plea to the Traveler.

“Please, please forgive me, Miss Una,” she begs, and a shimmering green encircles the woman’s feet. She recoils with a sharp intake of breath. “Please answer my questions, and I promise promise I’ll explain everyhing.”

“Jester…” Caduceus warns again, voice rolling low and docile in an attempt to cool tempers.

“What is your name?” Una is still and silent.

“Please answer me.”

Quietly: “Una Ermendrud.” The white circle at her feet flares white briefly, then shrinks back to green.

“Is there any other name anyone else ever calls you?”

“No.” Another flare of white.

“Is there any other name anyone else has called you before?”

A brief pause before her next answer, “Una Kohler, before I was married.” Yet another white flare.

Jester’s voice quivers. “Your son died seventeen years ago.”

“My son is dead.” The circle burns white.

“Your son Bren. He has your hair.”

Jester feels a whipcrack surge between them as they lock eyes again. Confusion plays across grief plays across anger plays across love plays across guilt on Una’s face. “Please answer me.”

“Yes.” Once more, white.

Pain lodges at the back of Jester’s throat.

“Tell me a lie now, Miss Una.”

“Jester -”

“Please.”

“I - we. We live in R-” and the word rolls and rolls, but she cannot seem to finish it. The circle flares angrily red as she manages “-Rex-xen-trum”, and she stares down, understanding narrowing her eyes as the color fades back to green.

Jester pulls her last question like an arrow from her chest.

“How did he die?”

The whisper cuts over the patter of rain, the reedy keen of the wind:

“A fire. There was a fire.”

The circle momentarily flares white before Jester clenches her fist, and it disappears. 

“There were other students, inside,” Una breathes, continuing. “He was - he went back -”

“I’m sorry, Miss Una, I’m sorry,” she says, resisting, “please don’t call the guards or anything, I can explain, I can -”

“You knew my son.”

Jester feels Caduceus’ hand warm her shoulder on her reply.

“I know your son.”

Satellite Call Chapter 7

cross posted to AO3

or start with chapter one

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Michael is an Escort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary: Alex is home from the air force but finds he is as lonely as ever. He engages an escort one night under a pseudonym and when the escort arrives it’s his high school love, Michael Guerin. Thankfully for both of them Michael is a professional. However one night couldn’t possibly make up for all they’ve missed. Can they keep an ongoing relationship professional? Can they learn to trust that there is something more than this transaction between them?

Alex wakes to the sun streaming in through the curtains. He hadn’t meant to stay the night, but he’d fallen asleep in Michael’s arms. Michael is still sleeping and he looks so peaceful like that. He’s completely at ease in a way that Alex rarely sees him. Alex can’t help but reach for him in the stillness. To touch him, lay a kiss on his chest. It makes Alex positively ache with longing. Can they have something real or is it doomed from the start? Certainly last night had felt real. It hadn’t felt like a transaction. Michael slowly came to.

“You’re awake.” Alex murmurs.

“You stayed.” He whispers and then he smiles and it is so genuine that Alex’s chest actually hurts to see it.

“It was late, I was tired.” Alex tries.

Michael runs a hand over him, up his arm. “That’s why you stayed?” He asks, hope apparent in the question.

Alex runs the pad of his thumb over Michael’s lower lip. That hadn’t been why he’d stayed. Michael in turn lays a kiss right over his heart, his hand running down Alex’s leg. He bends close for a kiss and just then a horn sounds outside. Someone is here!

Isobel calls out, “Hello, I have bagels!”

“Damn it!” Alex says, sitting up quickly.

“Whoa, relax man, it’s just Isobel.” Michael tries to assure him.

Alex is in a panic, though. “Wait, does she know about us? About you? About what we’ve been doing?” He asks. He can’t imagine being able to face her if she knew that Alex was sleeping with Michael, but not only sleeping with him, paying him for it too. Maria already knew and that was one too many people for Alex’s comfort.

“Would it be so bad of she did?” Michael wants to know.

“Yeah.” Alex says, pulling on his prosthetic.

Michael is out of the bed without another word.

“Guerin…” Alex wants to reach out to him, but he’s clearly pissed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says as he pulls on his jeans. “You can Paypal me later. I’m sure you didn’t bring any cash with you last night.”

And then he’s gone out the door and Alex is left reeling. Paypal him? He expects to get paid for last night? Alex feels sick. That’s not what he’d meant, he just didn’t want anyone else to know. It was nobody's fucking business anyways, was it?

Alex dresses quickly but then finds he’s stuck. He can’t exactly walk out there if he wants to keep things under wraps, but he doesn’t want to just sit there for however long it takes to have bagels and talk about god knows what.

That’s exactly what he does though, and he’s all ready to tell Michael that he hadn’t meant to cheapen last night, and that he’s sorry for not wanting things out in the open, but Michael doesn’t come back. After about thirty minutes he just gets in his truck and leaves.

So Alex leaves too. He gets in his jeep and he goes home. He thinks about talking to Maria or maybe even Liz, but decides not to. Michael had made things pretty clear, so Alex pulls up the info for the escort company and considers Paypaling the money right then and there. But then he thinks better of it. Maybe there’s still a chance to salvage things.

He decides to wait. To try and talk to Michael about last night to see if he can clear the air before actually giving in and sending the money.

That evening is the third annual veteran’s fundraiser at the drive-in. They’re showing Mars Attacks!, and Alex had already decided to go. Maybe he’ll see Michael there and they’ll have a chance to talk.

Alex dresses carefully that night. Not in fatigues because that will piss his father off, but in a button down and jean jacket. In a way it’s like putting on armor. He wants to look good so he can feel good before having to face Michael.

At the drive-in he parks and waits and walks around and there, he sees Michael, but it looks like he’s heading out. He’s putting his toolbox into the back of his truck. Oh and why does he have to look so good? Is he allergic to buttoning his shirt properly?

“Leaving so soon?” He asks.

Michael leans against the truck and looks him over. “Seen it before.” He says. He doesn’t sound as angry as he had been earlier, but he looks guarded. “I hate how it ends.”

Alex bites his lips and then goes for it. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll split this sixer with you, if you let me watch from here.” Then he pulls down the back of Michael’s truck for them to sit on. He hops up and Michael looks hesitant, like he’s going to say no for just a moment. Then he grabs a beer and sits down on the other end of the tailgate without saying a word.

There’s time though, Alex thinks, for them to talk. The movie can’t start until it gets dark anyway and that’s at least an hour away. For now they sit in companionable silence and Alex tries to come up with a way to broach the subject. He wants to make things right between them before things get further out of hand.

Eventually Alex gets hungry and offers to go grab some corn dogs for them. Michael asks for extra mustard and Alex heads off. It’s starting to get dark now and they still haven’t talked, but Alex is having trouble ruining the quiet peace they seem to have struck. How does one say, I wasn’t trying to pay for sex last night, I just wanted it to be real between us? It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure.

He walks toward the concession stand and there, finally, he sees his father. He hasn’t had time to look into it, but since he’s been home, his father has been acting weird. More so than usual. Alex fully intends to find out what he’s up to. But right now he just wants to get through this night. He watches his father playing with a little kid and it makes his stomach twist.

“Heartwarming.” He says before turning to walk away.

His dad follows him, though. “Hey, maybe you ought to call it a night, huh? Use the evening to educate yourself on how to properly represent your country.”

It’s clear his dad isn’t just referring to the fact that he’s dressed as a civilian. Alex follows his gaze. He’s talking about Michael.

“Do I embarrass you, Dad?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at his father.

“You are a decorated purple heart airman with three deployments under his belt. Guerin is arrested once a week for gambling and bar fighting. Not to mention other illegal activities he’s been accused of. Seems to me the only one you're embarrassing is yourself, son.” He father tells him before walking off.

Alex takes a second to let that sink in before continuing on to get the corndogs. He isn’t going to let his dad get under his skin, even if he knows exactly what type of <i>illegal activities</i> his dad was referring to. Alex didn’t know if Michael was seeing other clients currently and though a part of him was desperate to find out, the rational part of his brain said that until they were together it was none of his business what Michael did with his time.

Once he had the corndogs in hand, he turned back to see a man standing with Michael. He watched as money traded hands and Alex felt himself go cold all over. What was he seeing? Were they setting up a time to meet later? Or had they already been together? The guy was a little older but in a hot way and thinking about him with Michael made the world tilt under Alex’s feet.

Not his business, he tries to tell himself, but it isn’t working. He knows it’s just jealousy but he can’t stop the angry knot of tension that’s set up residence in his gut. He can’t stand this feeling. Thinking about it was one thing, but seeing it was another.

So Alex doesn’t head straight back but takes a walk around the drive in to cool his head. It isn’t working though. Try as he might he can’t stop thinking about what his father had said. He had a reputation to uphold and being with Guerin was jeopardizing that. And he hates thinking that way, hates it. It makes him feel small and stupid that he can’t just be open to whatever was happening between them, whatever had happened between them. He’d paid hadn’t he? Twice so it’s not like he could say it was the pressure of seeing Guerin standing there that first night.

He can’t stop his head from spinning so he ditches the now cold corn dogs and decides to go see what Michael has to say, maybe he is wrong about what he saw.

When he gets back to the truck, Michael is closing it up. He opens his driver’s side door and Alex stops him from climbing in by saying, “Hey.”

Michael looks at him a moment and then says, “You wanna go for a ride?”

“This isn’t going to work out, Guerin.” Alex says. He feels angry and hurt and jealous, but mostly just mad at himself for saying that.

Michael just shakes his head like he knew this was coming.

“I can not ignore what I saw tonight.” Alex tells him. “I saw that guy pay you.”

Michael throws his keys into the truck, angry. “Yeah, occasionally I pawn a spool of copper wire from the junkyard for little extra cash.”

Alex can’t believe that’s what he saw though. He knows it was something else. He’s sure of it. The way that guy had looked at Guerin. He’s sure. He scoffs at Michael.

“Who cares?” Michael wants to know.

“I do! I’m an airman. I can’t be with a criminal.” Alex says.

“That didn’t stop you before. All my life, the system has put me at the mercy of criminals. I’m just trying to survive it.”

Alex doesn’t have anything to say to that.

“Guess you’re still the guy just looking for any excuse to walk away, huh?” Michael says.

“Maybe.” Alex admits. “And you’re still so good at giving them to me.” Alex turned to walk away, into the retreating crowd.

He felt like shit for the things he’d said and felt, but there was no taking it back now. He would Paypal Michael the money he owed him and leave it at that.

Driving home Alex feels like the biggest asshole. He’d known what he was getting into that first night, so how could he blame Michael now? It’s just that thinking about MIchael with someone else is driving Alex mad.

He’s almost home when the lights on the cabin in the distance wink out and now he’s got more pressing issues to think about. Like getting the little generator up and running. So he puts his feelings about Michael on the backburner for now. He’s got to get the lights and a.c. up and running if he’s going to be comfortable and then he can think about the whole Michael situation again.

Even thinking it, he knows it’s crazy. He won’t be able to stop thinking about Michael, but he needs to try. So that’s what he does. He tries.

Later that night, tired and hurt, Alex lies in bed thinking about Michael and everything that had passed between them. Hw sends a balance inquiry to Michael’s escort service and falls into a fitful sleep waiting for a reply.

The Last in Line in Your Circus Parade (DCU)

Canon divergent from Mick’s backstory in Flash v2 #218. Technically the prompt calls for a ColdWave version of 'paradise' but I took it to mean an AU so... it's an AU. Title from the thematically incorrect Dear Madam Barnum by XTC. Title: The Last in Line in Your Circus Parade Fandom: DCU Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 9293 In Responds to: ColdWave Week 2018: Doomworld Characters: Len, Mick, Lisa, bunch of OCs, occasional appearances by James and one by Hartley Warnings for: mentions of death, childhood abuse/bullying, undiagnosed mental illness, canonical deaths Summary: Mick hadn't been with the circus for too long before they picked up a couple newbies. Without having anything to distract himself with Mick had been dozing through most of the morning drive. It wasn’t until the caravan stopped for lunch that he found out the circus had picked up a couple new hands during that time. A boy and a girl, the first around Mick’s age, the latter a few years younger. “You can share a bunk with Mick here for now,” Donovan, the ringmaster, told them. “He’s only been with us a few months himself so you three can learn the ropes together.” The boy- Len -glowered at Mick with a black-eye and crooked nose while his sister Lisa pretended not to be hiding behind Len’s shoulder. “Okay,” Mick said, not really knowing what to do with them. The next youngest performer was a good eight years older than him. Mick supposed Donovan thought they’d be more comfortable with someone their age. “I guess I can introduce you around.”

On one hand, the introductions got Mick out of having to help set up for lunch which he didn’t really mind. On the other, it also meant not having Renetrice teach him to make a proper jambalaya which he kind of did. But he dutifully took them to meet everyone: the clowns, the trapeze artists, the contortionists, the animals and their handlers, the barkers and all the rest. He told them all the warnings he was given when he first joined and some he found out on his own: which people were just bluster and which ones weren’t, the best ways not to aggravate the animals, who they should never be alone with. They took their lunch with the animal handlers. They were one of his favorite groups so far. Mick usually helped them during setup and breakdown, got out of a lot of the menial work by mucking the stalls. It wasn’t all that different from what he did on the farm, it was kind of calming in a way, even if it stank. “So what do we do?” Len asked. He glared down everyone whose eyes seemed to linger too long on his sister. Mick wondered if he realized some of them lingered on him, too. “What kind of work are we doing?” “Could always use extra hands during setup and breakdown. You’re both pretty small, so you won’t be doing a lot of the heavy lifting.” Len seemed to take insult to that, puffing out his skinny chest. “I’m just as strong as you!” “Doubt it,” Mick said neutrally between spoonfuls of jambalaya. It was really good. He really wanted to learn that recipe. “The strong man’s been training me in his act.” Julio was a great guy most of the time, but his age and increasing reliance on medication for his moods meant he’d be retiring sooner rather than later. “Someone’ll volunteer to train you. You’ll get paid though it ain’t much. And it’s all under the table on account of we’re kids but,” Mick shrugged, looking deep into his bowl. “Better than where we came.” Len grunted. Mick took it as an agreement. The caravan got back on the road and Mick took the two to the vehicle he rode in with the contortionists, a pair of women who were married in all but law. Rivka and Sinclair doted on Lisa immediately and Lisa preened at their attention. Len just sat back and watched them distrustingly. Mick sat up front with Aiden, who took care of the non-personnel side of things. “What do you think of the new kids?” Aiden asked. He was the only one that could drive this particular van on account of the driver’s area being specially customized for his dwarfism. “Dunno,” Mick said, slouching to get comfortable. “Think they’ll stick around?” He thought about Len’s defiant expression and Lisa sticking close, both listening intently to everything Mick told them, committing it all to memory. “Probably.” Aiden grinned to himself. “Hope they turn out as good as you’ve been.” ~*~*~*~ It didn’t even take a week before Rivka and Sinclair announced they’d be training Lisa. They’d practically adopted her since day one and Lisa was enthralled by everything about them. Mick had seen Lisa sneaking in to watch the trapeze practice more than once, though. He didn’t doubt she’d be wanting to fly at some future point. Len seemed to have more trouble finding his niche. Originally, at Mick’s suggestion, he helped care for the animals until they realized, hilariously, that he was allergic to the tigers. Len proved to have quick, nimble hands and the resident magician had opted to teach him but both Donovan and Aiden rejected it. The man had been one of the people Mick had warned not to be alone with. Len got bounced from act to act, no one really able to find something he was both good at and enjoyed. He spent most of his time with the clowns, learning juggling, tumbling, sleight of hand. It was the attitude that kept them from officially mentoring Len. The boy was surly, short tempered and refused to play the fool. The only one that managed to keep from tramping on Len’s bad side constantly was Lisa. It wasn’t until their second month at the circus that Len’s talent became apparent. He’d gone up to Donovan during one of the breakdowns and said, “We’re missing the trunk with the ropes and stakes for the dressing tent.” Donovan just looked down at him in confusion. “What?” Len held out a clipboard to him. “An entire trunk of supplies is unaccounted for.” “You actually use the checklist?” Donovan scratched at his head. “Huh. I think you’re the only one that does.” Len stared at him. “Isn’t the point of the checklist so you can check them? How do you make sure you’re not leaving anything behind? Or not missing an entire trunk of stuff?” “Check with Renetrice. Pretty sure the supply tent got put away early. They might have fit it with her stuff.” After that Len worked with Aiden on things like logistics, organization and finances. Which Aiden was ecstatic for. He was especially looking forward to Len being experienced enough to walk around the circus during shows, making sure everything was being handled. Aiden hated doing it just because of the amount of people who thought he was an act simply because of his stature. After a particularly nasty outburst from Julio that left Len on the verge of fighting or bolting, Mick suggested to Aiden he let Len bunk with him, too. It meant that, given Lisa was already staying with her mentores, Mick would once again deal with the brunt of Julio’s mood swings but he was pretty used to it by now. On days he couldn’t handle it, he slipped away to the supply tent where Renetrice was always happy to have his help. And when that didn’t work, Mick could sneak off to stare at his lighter for a while. ~*~*~*~ “Renetrice told me to bring you this.” Len stood in the doorway to Mick’s bunk, staring blankly at the mound of blankets piled up against the wall. It moved, just enough for Mick to poke his head out. “Are… you alright?” “Yeah,” Mick said miserably. “You’re not sick or nothing?” “No.” He pulled his blankets tighter. They were fairly thin, most of them crochet because it was better for Elias to keep himself busy with something other than drinking. Mick eyed the comforter in Len’s arms greedily. “Are you going to hand that over?” “Yeah. Here.” Len unfolded it and plopped it on top of the mound. Mick sighed in contentment. It took a few moment for Mick to realize Len had yet to leave. “What?” He asked, defensive and ready to retreat into his blankets like a turtle. “I just don’t get is all.” “What’s to get? I don’t like the cold.” “It’s barely below 50 degrees out. Probably not gonna get much colder.” “Well I don’t like it,” Mick snapped. He’d joined the circus into the first weeks of spring, when the nights still got chilly. His extreme aversion to the cold was one of the tamer quirks in the group and, again, it kept Elias busy making Mick extra blankets in a plethora of colors. “Okay, okay.” Len shifted on his feet, looking like he was thinking. Mick braced himself, waiting to see if he’d be like the kids at school, taunting him maliciously about it any chance they could. Len ran a hand through his hair. “Do you want, like, soup or something? Hot tea? I mean, I could always go for some hot cocoa any time of the year so I could bring you a cup.” Mick stared. Len got defensive. “What?” “I… wasn’t expecting that, I guess.” “What, someone offering to get you stuff?” “No. Kind of. I mean- most people just laugh and call me weird because of it.” Len shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “I mean, I don’t like being hot, so I kind of understand I guess. But you helped me and Lisa fit in with the circus so it’s only fair I help you out too, right?” Mick’s lips quirked in a half grin. “You’re weird.” “I don’t have to get you that cocoa, you know.” “I’ll take the cocoa, but you’re still weird.” “Whatever.” ~*~*~*~ It wasn’t often that they crossed paths with other circuses while on the road but when they did it was usually amicable. Both groups would share a space, swapping tales and tips. This group was the first one they’d come across that had a kid, only about a year or two younger than Lisa. He was the youngest of the Flying Giuseppes, Giovanni. He didn’t like the name but hadn’t found another he liked better so they just called him Gio. Lisa kept trying to talk him into teaching her trapeze stuff. “For fun,” she said. Gio kept finding ways to distract her. He was all bright smiles, charm and clever hands. He showed off little gadgets he made himself and chattered on about any little thing. Eventually Mick asked, “Why don’t you wanna show Lisa some moves?” There was a trapeze and net already set up when the adults were showing off to each other earlier. But now that everyone had moved on to drinking, it was the perfect time for the kids to get up there if they wanted. Gio shifted a bit, not looking at any of them when he said, “I’m too young to get up there yet.” “Graysons’ got a younger one flying,” Len countered. “My parents aren’t the Graysons.” The three stared at him until Gio finally admitted quietly, “I’m scared of heights.” None of them knew how to respond to that so Mick just said, “Oh.” He looked up at the trapeze. It wasn’t up as high as it would be in a show, but fifteen feet was still pretty up there. “Can’t say I blame you.” Disappointed, Lisa stopped pestering him. They continued to talk and hang out, Gio’s fear almost immediately forgotten. Just before they parted ways, Gio said he was working on some shoes that would help him fly. “They’d let me float,” he said, showing of sketches of pointed shoes. “Concentrated jets of air. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about falling.” Len looked at them with serious consideration. Mick wondered if Len was hoping Gio would have a set complete before Lisa finagled her way into the trapeze act. ~*~*~*~ Six months in and Len still didn’t quite fit in. He was standoffish, distant and blunt, occasionally verging on cruel. The only ones he seemed to really get on with for any length of time, asides from Lisa, was Aiden and Donovan, who were used to dealing with all sorts of temperaments, Rivka and Sinclair, who Len tended to be on good behavior for for Lisa’s sake, and Mick, which Mick just chalked up to being in the same age group. Of course Len had the odd tendency of hanging out with Mick most often while Mick was training with Julio. It made Mick feel kind of bad about their schedules not lining up exactly because he knew Len didn’t much like Julio and right after training, Mick was generally too tired to do anything but lay down and rest his aching muscles, chest heaving and sweat drying on his skin. But every time Mick apologized for it, Len would just brush is off and whenever Mick suggested he ask Julio to change their schedule, Len insisted that he didn’t mind. “We don’t have to do things,” Len would tell him. “Sometimes it’s nice just to have company.” Mick stretched out, long and luxurious, stripped to the waist so the sun could beat warm on his skin. It may have been just his imagination, but Mick swore he saw Len turn his head away just as Mick opened his eyes again. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. You’re not so bad yourself.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that caused Len to flush. It was an idea that made Mick’s stomach flutter. At one point, during those quiet moments when they just sat together companionably, Mick said, “You know, I think you’re my best friend.” Len looked at him as if this was a surprise. “Really?” “Yeah. I guess.” Mick laughed to himself, running a hand through his hair, pulling back the strands that stuck to his still-damp skin. “Never really had friends,” he admitted. “I was always the weird kid who wore jackets during the summer. The scary kid that likes playing with fire. The last guy I considered a friend trapped me in a meat locker. Don’t know if it was for a gag or to trying to get the others kids to like him more.” It was kind of nice the way Len got indignant and angry on his behalf. “He did what?” “Don’t worry about it.” Mick waved off Len’s concern. His eyelids slid shut as the memory of a roaring fire and creaking timber came over him. He couldn’t remember if they screamed or not any more. “It’s over.” “Not if I get my hands on this guy…” “You won’t.” Nobody would be doing anything to Brad Riker again. Or his family. Sometimes Mick felt guilty that he didn’t feel worse about it. But it, like the memory of his own family, didn’t feel like something he did but something he watched happen. Where nothing existed but the fire. There was something wrong with him, Mick knew that much, but if anyone knew, they’d make him leave the circus. The circus was the only place he felt like he belonged, the only place that didn’t judge the way he bundled himself up or lost himself in a fire. “Yeah well, I ain’t gonna pull something like that.” He was so serious about it that Mick couldn’t help poking fun at him. “Considering there’s no meat lockers around…” Len grabbed a handful of grass and tossed it at Mick, expression half sneer, half amused. “You know what I mean, ass.” ~*~*~*~ The day after their last show was generally a lazy one, where after packing up the non-essentials, everyone was allowed to just relax. Mick had found Lisa eating ice cream and watching some daytime talk show with a couple of the clowns on their crappy, handheld portable television. It was kind of a hilarious scene in all honesty, the group of them clustered around to stare intently at a tiny screen, but Mick interrupted it to ask where her brother was. “He wanted to talk to Rivka,” she said, eyes not moving away as some woman went on about how she worked herself to the bone for her children and their ungrateful turn on her. “Said it was private.” Mick dithered, wondering if he should go find him or not. It wasn’t for anything important, just to see if Len wanted to head into town with some of the others. It had become a bit of a tradition over the last year or so. Sometimes Lisa came, sometimes she didn’t, but usually it was the two of them seeing what was interesting. Well, he figured, no harm in seeing if they were done talking or not. He went over to Rivka’s tent and could hear quiet words coming from inside. As low as the voices were, Mick only had to stand a few feet away to understand what they were saying through the material. “Honestly, it’s more natural than all these expectations society keeps throwing at us. The world keeps telling you that there’s certain ways you have to look and act and certain people you have to love, all based on what’s between your legs.” Oh, this. Mick a similar talk with her before. “If it weren’t for society constantly drilling those things into our heads since we were born, if we had the freedom to express and explore who we truly are, the world would be a much queerer place.” “So… there’s nothing wrong with me?” Mick’s breath caught- that was Len’s voice. “Honey, if you honestly thought there was something wrong with you because you might be attracted to other men, you wouldn’t be talking to me.” There was a soft, warm smile in Rivka’s voice. “What you wanted was someone confirming that this was alright. And it is absolutely alright.” “But… I was told…” Mick could practically see the way Len’s mouth twisted as he tried to find the words he needed. “My dad told me that people like- guys that liked guys… that they’re wrong and sick.” “And probably called them all sorts of things.” Rivka sighed. “Lenny, do you think there’s something wrong with me or Sinclair?” “Well… no.” “Of course not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let us near your sister.” “But that’s different.” “And why is it different? Because we’re women? Or because it’s not you?” Len stayed silent. “That’s the great thing about the circus. We’re all freaks one way or another, either because of the things we can do or because we don’t have a place in ‘proper society’. So it’s the perfect place for you to figure yourself out. No judgments here.” Rivka paused. “Well, no judgments so long as no one gets hurt.” “So it’s really okay that I…” “Like cock?” She asked teasingly. “I don’t get the appeal myself but you wouldn’t be the only one in the circus that does, man or woman. Nor would you be the only person here who likes both.” There was a brief pause and a shuffling sound. “Take your time. You don’t have to figure out what you like right now. Hell, you can change your mind in ten years. The important thing is that you don’t feel ashamed of yourself and don’t feel like you have to hide who you are from the people who care about you. We want you to be happy. We want you to find someone that makes you happy.” Len laughed, a little breathless, a little watery. “That… might be the first time anyone other than Lisa said that to me.” “I’m sure it won’t be the last time you hear it, either.” There was a slight sniffle and some more shuffling and Mick belatedly remembered that he was eavesdropping right as Len left the tent. He froze at the sight of Mick, eyes huge. “Uh…” Rivka stuck her head out, gave Mick a brief look before telling Len, “Don’t worry about him. I gave him the same talk a little while before you joined.” That information seemed to stun Len. “You… you, uh…” “Like guys?” Mick asked with a wry half-grin and a shrug. “Sometimes. More than I like girls, honestly.” Len looked away, color starting to come up in his cheeks. “Oh. Uh.” Rivka’s eyes darted between the two. “Well!” She said brightly, clapping Len’s shoulder and giving him a push so he was entirely out of her tent. “Really, Mick probably has a better idea of what you’re going through- being the right age group and having grown up with similar expectations of masculinity -you can talk to him about any questions you might have. It’ll probably be enlightening.” She gave Mick a grin and a wink before ducking back in her tent and cinching the entrance tight. He had no idea what that was about. Mick didn’t think he’d ever understand women. Probably why they had minimal appeal to him. The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment before Mick cleared his throat. “So, uh, you have an eye on someone?” Len’s shoulders stiffened and his flush deepened. “It’s okay if you do. I had a crush on Jared when I first got here.” He was one of the daredevils, broad shouldered and barrel chested with a wild smile and tight leather motorcycle gear. It was Jared’s excessive wildness that had eventually turned Mick off, uncontrollable to the point of suicidal some days. Honestly, Mick kept expecting Donovan to let him go rather than risk Jared deciding to crash and burn in the middle of a show. “No one’s going to judge you for it. I mean, there isn’t all that many options with the circus,” Mick continued. “Sometimes, when the need gets bad enough, all you have available are the people around you. And you don’t always get to choose the gender when that happens.” Len licked his lips, his voice sounded a little thicker as he asked, “Have you… uh.” He trailed off, face continually getting redder. Mick took pity on him. “My hand’s still working out for me.” He laughed to himself. He looked over to Len who seemed to have swallowed his tongue. “Are you… having trouble?” Len flushed bright, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Because I could help. If you can’t find anyone else, I mean.” Abruptly Len strode forward jerkily. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled out quickly before all but running off. Mick’s brow furrowed, looking after him, trying to figure out how and when the conversation got twisted around. Eventually he chalked it up to Len being shy about that sort of thing. He turned and saw Rivka standing there, giving Mick a long, measured look. “Don’t tease the poor boy, Mickey.” “I wasn’t!” She hummed, unconvinced, and headed back into the tent. ~*~*~*~ It had been awkward for a while following Len’s… revelation. He seemed to find an excuse to not be around Mick for extended periods of time and when Mick asked Lisa about it, she just shrugged and said he’s being weird and that that was nothing unusual. Around that time, however, the circus underwent a change of personnel with Julio finally retiring. Mick spent more time than ever training, getting bigger, stronger and not having much time to worry about anything else, even if it did sting a little each time he’d finish working out and look up to find Len wasn’t waiting for him. Until, one day, he was. “Hey,” Len said, holding out a towel for Mick to take. “Sorry I’ve been absent. Just had to straighten my head out a bit.” “I understand. I’ve been there, myself.” “Yeah.” Len shuffled his feet a bit, seeming to have trouble lifting his eyes about Mick’s collarbone. “We still friends?” Mick hid a snort and grin into the towel. “Yeah, we’re still friends.” “Cool,” Len said. He finally looked Mick in the eye and asked, “Did you know Tae Min knows how to breathe fire?” Mick hadn’t. Tae Min was one of the new additions to the circus, brought on specifically to teach the other daredevil bikers to do the globe of death. As well as being an excuse for Donovan to finally get rid of Jared. Mick hadn’t talked to him much on account of Tae Min’s stunted English and Mick struggling with his thick accent. “He’s cool with showing you how it’s done. Maybe you can incorporate that into your act.” Mick perked up at the idea. As grateful as he was for having a job, doing straight feats of strength got repetitive. After a couple months working with Tae Min on their free time, with Len’s input on how to integrate the two acts, Mick performed it to Donovan and Aiden. After another month of refinement under their guidance, Mick debuted the act in a show. Then performed it in every show after. ~*~*~*~ “I’m telling you, it’s blowing out cold air!” “Mick,” Aiden said, trying to bite down on his temper. Mick’s repeated complaints on top of bad traffic wasn’t making it easy. “The heater is on, okay? It’s not cold air!” “I think it really is.” Lisa leaned forward with a frown. She pulled her sleeve back and held it close to the vent. Goosebumps rose up in fairly short order. “I think the heater’s broken.” “Broken?” Mick all but squeaked. “We can’t stop the entire caravan just to futz with the heater,” Aiden said preemptively. He looked into the rearview mirror, catching Mick’s eyes. “We’ll be stopping for the night in a few hours. I’ll have Nihal look at it tonight.” “It’s okay, Mickey.” Rivka draped herself over Mick’s back, flopping her entire weight on him. Lisa laughed and did the same. “We’ll keep you warm until then.” “That doesn’t mean suffocate me!” “Why, Mickey!” Sinclair cried from Rivka’s other side, wrapping her arms around her partner. “One would think you thought girls had cooties, acting like that!” “I like being warm and breathing! They’re not mutually exclusive!” A jacket was suddenly thrust under Mick’s nose. He blinked at it, then followed the arm up to the front where Len sat, resolutely turned forward. Len shook his jacket slightly. “Here.” “Uh-” “Cold doesn’t bother me so, take it. It’s not much but at least it’s something.” “Um. Thanks.” The women sat up, letting Mick put the jacket on, zipping it up all the way to his nose. Next to him Rivka was silently screaming with glee. Mick pretended not to notice, just like he pretended that he wasn’t blushing. ~*~*~*~ “Gio!” “Lisey!” “How dare you get taller than me, you little brat!” She exclaimed even while she hugged Gio tightly. “Not my fault- I’ve seen miniature horses taller than you!” Gio had to have grown at least a foot since they last saw him but he was still a gangly beanpole, all long and lean muscles. Lightweight so he could fly despite his distaste for heights. Mick couldn’t help sizing him up- though he and Len had been back on an even keel for some time, Mick couldn’t help noticing that Len had a type when it came to people he was intimate with. Male or female- or those that didn’t easily fall into a category -they all had fine features. With women, Len seemed to have more leniency but for men, they were always delicate beauties with a willowy grace. Len was attracted to guys like Gio rather than Mick. Mick swallowed down a knot that tried to grow in his throat in response to that thought. “You think you can still lift me?” Gio asked, breaking into Mick’s train of thought. “Considering you’re still a stick, no problem.” Mick held out his hands and Gio grabbed them, palm to palm, fingers interlacing. He lifted himself up until he was upside down, legs held straight up in the air. Carefully, Mick lifted Gio above his head. Then Gio, shifted his weight slightly to one side, the grip of one hand loosening and when Mick let it go, Gio held it off to the side, legs parting into a straddle split. “Hey,” Gio said conversationally, as if he weren’t being held up above Mick’s head with one hand, “you think I could join you guys? We could be an adagio acrobalance act.” Gio brought his legs back together and Mick lowered him down so when Gio dropped back to his feet, he didn’t have far to land. “You still wouldn’t be on the ground,” Mick teased. “Please. Six feet is nothing.” Gio turned to the other two. “What do you guys think?” “Doubt Donovan would go for it,” Len said. “If you suggest the act to him, he’d just pair Mick up with one of our three trained contortionists before he’ll agree to hire you.” For a moment, Gio just looked at Len closely, studying him very intently. Mick couldn’t help the stirring of some emotion that began bristling up his spine. He couldn’t help the thought that Len might be Gio's type as well. Gio just smiled brightly and slapped Mick’s shoulders. “True enough. Wouldn’t want to shake up a good thing anyway, you know?” Mick had no idea what he meant but laughed along anyway. ~*~*~*~ Mick’s weird fascination with Len would come and go- well, not so much go as it did fade into the background where he wasn’t consciously aware of it. But Mick always seemed to know when someone had caught Len’s attention, when his eyes would linger a little too long on someone and that feeling would come back. He tried not to think about it, tried not to let it bother him but… well, he supposed he’d just gotten so used to having so much of Len’s attention, of only having to share it with Lisa that having someone else steal some bothered him. So when Janice joined, it was something of a relief. She’d taken over the elephant act from Paul after he’d gotten into some major trouble with the law. Mick had taken a liking to her at once and began flirting with her once she became settled with the rest of the circus. Oddly, though, Len also began flirting with her though he only seemed to do so when he was aware Mick was nearby. There were many moments when Mick would watch them from a distance and Len didn’t seem to care that Janice existed. Eventually he figured that Len was going through what Mick had, feeling like he was losing Mick’s attention to Janice. Well, if Mick had learned to live with sharing Len, he could do the same. Janice didn’t know what to make of Len’s strange push-and-pull routine and it made her hesitate to take up Mick’s offers. But she did, eventually. She, like Mick, had a healthy appetite and when Mick offered to make her his grandmother’s chili, she jumped at the chance. Mick wasn’t the type to expect a simple first dinner to go anywhere, was simply happy that he finally got a date. Len sulked when Mick told him but Mick refused to let Len’s bad attitude ruin his night. After he worked out for the day and washed up, Mick began cooking, cutting up vegetables and measuring out spices. He put a pot on the stove to cook the meat. He turned on the burner and something in his brain went ‘click’. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in years. Not since he burned down Brad Riker’s house, him and his family still in it. That distant, floaty feeling like Mick had stepped outside his body, watching it go about without his input. He watched it move the pot off the burner, turning the flame up higher, staring at it, mesmerized. It wasn’t big enough. Even if he wasn’t in his body, Mick could still feel the itch and knew the fire wasn’t big enough. He watched his body grab the nearest flammable object, an oven mitt, and dropped it on the stove. It caught. It spread, over to the wooden utensils, slowly growing. A thought wriggled its way into Mick’s brain: a camera. He should grab a camera, take photos so he could admire the flames later. Tina had a good one. By the time he’d get back, the fire would be so much bigger, so much more beautiful. Mick didn’t make it to the door before someone came rushing in, armed with a fire extinguisher, putting the fire out in a harsh spray of foam. It snapped Mick back into his body and he doubled over, body racked with coughs as he realized his lungs were filled with smoke. The skin of his face and arms felt burned from the heat of the fire and strong hands grabbed him, pulling him out of the kitchen and into the cool air outside. “Are you okay? Mick?” Those hands cupped his face, guiding him around until he was looking at Len. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Mick couldn’t answer. Instead, his eyes went over Len’s shoulder, back into the kitchen. The fire was gone, smothered under the foam and for a moment Mick felt like he couldn’t breathe. Another arm wrapped around Mick, heaving him to his feet. “Let’s get him to my trailer.” Donovan. Mick’s breathes started to come in great heaves, hyperventilating at the thought of what he almost did. At the fact that they’d find out how messed up he truly was and that they’d kick him to the curb rather than risk letting him travel with them. “Mick? Can you tell us what happened?” He blinked, wondering just when he’d been sat down on a bed, head between his knees. A hand was rubbing circles over his back. He looked up, only Len and Donovan were with him. “I-” tears came to his eyes and Mick’s words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want this to happen.” That was all he managed to get out before succumbing to his tears, hiding his face in his hands. He heard, on the edge of awareness, Len and Donovan talking to each other but the words couldn’t make it through the disjointed fog clouding Mick’s brain. Eventually he felt someone gently guiding him to lay back in the bed and a tugging at his feet as his boots were pulled off. “I didn’t mean to,” Mick said through his tears. “I didn’t mean it. I wanted to but I didn’t want to.” “What are you talking about?” Len asked. Donovan must have left because Mick couldn’t see him anywhere in the small trailer. “It happens sometimes,” he sobbed, curling into a miserable ball. “I can’t help it. I thought it was over but it wasn’t. I didn’t mean for it to happen.” “Mick… try to get some rest, okay? You’re not making any sense.” “There’s something broken in my head. It’s like I’m not in control of my body. I wanted… I wanted to see the fire. I wanted to see it huge and out of control. That’s when it’s the most beautiful, you know? I didn’t want to, but I had to.” Mick let out a wretched noise. “Donovan’s gonna send me away. I don’t wanna go away, Lenny. I love the circus.” “I know you do.” Len climbed into the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around Mick. “We’ll talk about it when you’re not such a mess, okay? But I promise, if Donovan sends you away, I’m coming with you. You’re not going to be alone.” Mick sobbed into his chest until a restless sleep came over him. ~*~*~*~ In the end, after much back and forth between Donovan, Aiden, Renetrice and Len, Mick wasn’t fired. He was no longer allowed to do any cooking without Renetrice around and he was no longer allowed to do his fire act for the foreseeable future. The others were split between sympathy and distrust. The ones that had known him longer grew protective of Mick. Rivka, Sinclair and Lisa made it a point to be around him as often as possible, glaring down anyone that tried to give him a hard time. Tae Min kept giving him guilty looks, as if he thought teaching Mick how to breathe fire caused this problem. Janice tried to act like she wasn’t uncomfortable being around Mick now. Len ended up moving in with Mick. The tent was small but it had been given to Julio when his unpredictable mood swings had gotten bad enough no one wanted to room with him. Mick had it all to himself when Julio left. Back then, when Mick hadn’t reached his full adult size, it had been just big enough for two. Now, with two fully grown men, it was cramped and the two had to sleep so close they might as well have been sharing a bed. One night, with his head still numb and emotions still raw, Mick told Len everything. About his family, about Brad Riker, about how he needed to light those fires whether he wanted to or not. “I was going to take pictures,” Mick said in the dark. “That’s where I was going when you came in.” He said, quieter, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “It’s not going to happen again,” Len said firmly. “It will. I thought it was done but it still happened. It’ll happen again.” “Then I’ll be there to stop it from getting out of hand.” Mick curled his shoulders in on himself, putting his hand out into the space between them. “I don’t want to burn you, Len.” Len grabbed his hand and held it tightly. “You won’t.” ~*~*~*~ Eventually, when things settled down for about a year, Donovan began talking about retiring. “Not any time soon,” he said. “It won’t be for another five years or so, but it’s definitely something I need to start working towards to make things as seamless as possible.” The reason for that was two-fold: first, Aiden was also planning to retire around the same time and second, they were going to give the circus to Len. When he’d first been told, Len went back to his tent and just sat there in the dark by himself for some time, trying to absorb the news and what it would mean for him. Eventually Mick found him there. He sat next to Len, holding his hand to ground him and listened as Len stumbled over his thoughts. When he said all he had to say, Mick just said, “I’m not surprised, really. You’re going to be amazing.” Len turned to him, jaw working for a moment before saying thickly, “You’re going to be here to help me, right?” Honestly Mick didn’t think Len needed him. All the performers respected and listened to Len already and Mick still considered himself a liability. But, he figured, there was still plenty of time before Len realized he’d be better off depending on someone other than a pyromaniac timebomb so there wouldn’t be any harm in Mick saying, “Of course. Anything you need.” Len dropped his cheek to Mick’s shoulder and let out a deep, deep breath. Even if it would still be years before Len was officially in charge his workload jumped. He spent most of his time with his nose deep in paperwork, started following Donovan around and sat in on every meeting Donovan, Aiden and even Renetrice had. Just about every night Len came back mentally exhausted, shoulders aching from being hunched over paperwork or reading up on various books and files. Mick took to giving him massages that left Len falling into a deep, restful sleep before he was done. Privately Mick loved those moments with Len laid out trustingly beneath him, slowly unraveling under Mick’s hands, words slurring as he tried to talk before eventually tapering off to soft snores. Mick had always liked the circus. After the ridicule and malicious teasing he endured in school, it was like a revelation to find some place where no one cared about his quirks, where he was taken in and accepted just as he was. He didn’t doubt that the others cared about him, he didn’t doubt that they wanted him there but it only felt like he was merely existing. Just sharing a space with others who at least acknowledged him. This, however. Mick felt needed. He felt necessary. He felt like he mattered to someone, even if that was just making it easier for Len to be able to sleep at night. “Is this sad?” Mick asked quietly, only half serious. His thumb traced over Len’s jaw, over three days worth of stubble. “That I kind of like being able to take care of you?” Len made a soft noise before turning further into his pillow. He mumbled something unintelligible and settled back into sleep. Mick pulled his hand back, chuckling quietly to himself. “I guess it’s only fair seeing as how you’ve been looking out for me.” His eyes lingered over Len for a few minutes longer before Mick went to his own cot, closed his eyes and fell asleep. ~*~*~*~ By the time Mick’s birthday rolled around, he was officially part of a new act: acrobalance with Sinclair and Rivka. He considered writing an apology to Gio for stealing his idea but Gio apparently left his troupe sometimes in the last year since they crossed paths. The switch worked out for everyone, though, Lisa finally getting to work the trapeze as she’d always wanted with a grace and natural ability that was obvious from the start. Donovan had taken to affectionately calling her their ‘Golden Glider’. Mick had gotten so focused on the new act that he’d completely forgotten about his birthday until he went to the food tent with Lisa after helping her put away the cables and net from her trapeze practice and the troupe- the ones he still considered close, anyway -greeted him with a “Surprise!” and some party poppers. There wasn’t much by way of presents given all of them tended to be stingy with money due to the unreliableness of their profits but honestly Mick didn’t mind. He was glad for their company, getting hugs and a few kisses throughout the night. Renetrice made his favorite, jambalaya, and for desert there was a raspberry and chocolate bombe Alaska. They even let him stare at the meringue as it burned for a few moments before putting it out. They talked, laughed and danced all the way through to the early morning and as the crowd thinned out, wishing him a good night and final birthday wishes, Mick spotted Len in the back, cleaning up the dishes. Mick got up to help him. “I got it,” Len said, when he noticed what Mick was doing. “It’ll get done faster with two.” “The birthday boy shouldn’t be doing clean up.” Mick laughed. “It stopped being my birthday almost,” he paused to squint at the clock back in the kitchen area, “three hours ago? Damn, time flies.” Len looked over at the clock. Apparently he’d lost track as well. “Huh. Well, guess I can’t stop you, then.” Between the two of them, clean up didn’t take long. Most of it was disposable and everyone was in the habit of cleaning up after themselves anyway. So all it really took was a quick sweep and wiping down a few spills. At least it wouldn’t have taken long if Mick didn’t keep finding excuses to linger. Sure they stayed in the same tent together but… Mick just didn’t want the night- and this little slice of time with just the two of them -to end. But, eventually, the last of the trash got swept in the bag and the bag got tied up and placed in the city provided dumpster for them to use. Together they walked back to their tent, slowly, listening to the shuffling of animals, to the sound of the city beyond that, enjoying the night. As they stepped inside, Mick said, “Thank you.” Len just shrugged. “Sure.” “No,” he grabbed Len’s shoulder, keeping him from turning away. “I mean it. Lisa told me you were the one who organized this.” He scowled, more embarrassed than angry. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” “Yeah, well. Since when does Lisa do what she’s told?” Len ran a hand through his hair, looking self-conscious. “It’s not a big deal. This- you’ve had a rough year. I just… wanted to do something nice for you.” He licked his lips, looking at Mick like he was trying to gather up the courage for something. “I… I really like you, Mick. I want you to be happy. As a friend and… maybe…” They lapsed into a long silence until Len broke their gaze, glancing away. Mick started, stammering a bit. “I… sorry, it’s just- I didn’t think you liked guys like me.” Len looked momentarily thrown. “What?” “Well, all the guys you were with before. They were always… slim and pretty and not… like this.” He held his arms out in silent indication. Len snorted. “You know why I went for guys like that? Because if I went for guys like you, I’d be disappointed that they weren’t you.” “Oh.” Mick laughed a little self-consciously. “How long have you…” Just as self-consciously, Len shrugged and cut his eyes away for a moment. “About the time I figured out I liked guys.” “Oh.” There really wasn’t anything Mick could say to that. He saw Len’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, watching Mick intently, expectantly. Mick cupped his hands on either side of Len’s jaw in silent question. Len’s eyes slid closed and his lips parted slightly and there was nothing Mick could do to keep himself from leaning in and kissing him. Their mouths moved together, soft and slow, exploring cautiously. Len’s arm came around Mick’s back, clutching at his shirt as Mick moaned. When they parted, Mick’s brow had the tiniest furrow in it. “What?” Len asked, a hair defensive. “Since when were you taller than me?” Len laughed, loud and bright and dragged Mick back in for another kiss. ~*~*~*~ Daily training was cut early in the day, Donovan somber as everyone gathered together. He told them about an accident that happened to another circus the night prior. About how all the famous Flying Graysons, save the youngest, fell to their deaths, rumored by foul play. Between that, the rampant crime, the influx of violent creeps in costumes that didn’t look too different than how the performers dressed, Donovan made the decision to never go through Gotham again. “Everyone that goes in the air,” he told them, “will have wires and nets. Everyone.” No one had a problem with that. ~*~*~*~ With the way Len was working his ass off, it surprised no one that he was ready to take over the circus early. Of course Donovan and Aiden weren’t ready to leave, needing to pad out their retirement fund some more, but they didn’t have any issues with leaving their positions early and working for the circus in other aspects. The night after Len was officially signed as the owner, Mick couldn’t help chuckling against Len’s chest, arm thrown over his waist and legs tangled together under the sheet. “What?” Len asked, half asleep, fingers idly massaging Mick’s scalp. He’d taken to shaving it recently and Len seemed to like petting him. Honestly Mick didn’t mind it much himself. “Just thinking,” he said, propping himself up on an arm so he had a good look at Len’s face. “So does this mean I’m sleeping my way to the top now?” Len’s eyes snapped open and when he saw Mick’s big, shit eating grin, he grabbed the pillow under his head and smacked Mick with it. In the morning, Mick got up early to help feed the animals and clean out their stalls. Then he did some strength training and by the time he went to have breakfast, nearly everyone was already up and about. He didn’t see Len around so Mick took his meal with the clowns, chatting with them for a while before grabbing a couple mugs of coffee and heading over to Len’s office. Just as he suspected, Len was already getting started on the paperwork and Mick took a seat opposite him at the desk- a table that folded out from the wall. Len barely gave him notice except to drop the morning paper in front of Mick. He looked over it in the midst of sipping his coffee, at the bright smile gracing the front page. He looked back up at Len, eyebrows raised. “Tell me that’s not who I think it is,” Len said. He looked torn between annoyed and amused. Putting his cup down, Mick grabbed the paper to better study the photo. He skimmed the article, a few choice words sticking out at him. “Is that… Gio?” “The Trickster,” Len said, drawing the name out as he grabbed the mug pushed his way, checking to make sure a couple ice cubes floated in there to cool it down. “Robbed a plane in mid-air.” Mick barked out a laugh. “That would be something Gio would do.” “But really, who else could it be?” Len got up to lean over the back of Mick's chair. Mick leaned back against him. “Gio leaves the circus, all of the sudden a guy obviously trained in acrobatics shows up wearing Giuseppe stripes and floating shoes like he’d been talking about.” Mick shifted so he could lift and arm, running his fingers through Len’s hair. “What do you think about it?” “Ridiculous. And hilarious.” “Definitely sounds like Gio.” Mick grinned mischievously. “You want to see if we can’t say hi next time we’re in Central?” Len snorted into his coffee. “We’ll see.” ~*~*~*~ Mick reached over and shook Len’s shoulder as he dozed in the passenger seat. “Whu?” “You see that?” Len stretched and yawned and squinted blearily out the windshield. “That hell? Is that…” he leaned forward, hands against the dashboard. “Is that guy leading a train of rats?” Up ahead, trudging along the side of the road, was a lone figure with long, tangled auburn hair, dirty clothing that looked like they had once been expensive and a woefully small bag slung over a shoulder. They seemed to be holding something up to their face and behind them were dozens of rats, following behind like an enthralled and well organized moving carpet. “Should we?” “Hell yes!” Len said. Mick chuckled, putting on the hazards so the rest of the caravan knew they were coming to a stop and very carefully he drove up next to the person. Len rolled down the window and leaned out. The person- male, by Mick’s guess -was playing a flute. “Hey.” The music stopped. “You looking for a job?” He slapped the door where the circus’s name was faded but colorfully emblazoned. The young man- a teen really, just a handful of years older than Mick or Len had been when they joined -looked at him blankly. Len tilted his head to the side. “That a hearing aid?” He asked his original question again in sign language. The kid’s eyes went wide. “You can sign?” “One of the clowns was born deaf,” Len said, signing as he spoke. “Got a couple others hard of hearing, signing’s easier for ‘em.” “I, uh, I can actually read lips pretty well,” the kid said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I was just surprised. My parents refused to learn so…” “Parents can be dicks,” Len told him sagely, “lotta us here know that well. So how do you do the trick with the rats?” He looked at the rats, not looking surprised that so many were sitting there and staring at him. By this time anyone that could lean out a window to look at them were doing so. He looked back at Len, guiltily fingering his flute. “I dunno. They just… like listening to me play. I can get ‘em to do tricks.” “Nice. You want a job?” His eyes darted around. “Can you… do that? Just offer me one out of the blue like that?” “I’m the owner so, yeah. ‘Sides, we’re always open for new acts.” Len held out his hand for a handshake. “At least let us give you a ride to the next town, then you can decide if you want to stay or not. What do ya say?” He looked down at his rats. A couple of them squeaked, as if offering advice. When the kid looked up again, he looked ashamed. “I… I’m… gay.” For a moment no one said anything. “...okay,” Len said eventually. “Not something you gotta disclose to us but thanks for the info.” His ears turned red. “S-Sorry. It’s just… my parents-” “Are dicks, I got it.” Len swung the door open. “Well that don’t bother us, kid, so hop on in.” “Yeah,” Mick chipped in. “If no one cares that I’ve been sleeping with the boss for the last two years,” he hooked his chin casually over Len’s shoulder, “no one’s going to make a big deal out of you.” Len snorted but didn't look anything but comfortable in Mick's hold. The kid looked up at them like he was faced with a revelation. The two just sat patiently, waiting for him to snap out of it on his own. “Um!” His hands were knuckle white around his flute. “I’m Hartley!” Even from their brief conversation, Mick wasn’t surprised at the lack of family name. “I’m Mick, this is Len. He’s not nearly as surely as he likes to act.” “Don’t undermine my grumpiness, Mick,” Len said dryly. The hint of a wide, unrestrained smile ghosted over Hartley’s face. “Can… can my rats come, too?” “Sure. It’ll save us having to scrounge some up in the next town,” Len said. He got onto his knees to lean back and push open the back door. It was pretty stuff with supplies but there was enough room for the rats to curl up in the cracks. “Just keep ‘em away from the tigers and the food and we’re good.” Mick snorted. He waited from Hartley to herd his pets in and get himself buckled into the front before putting the van back into gear and on the road.

Make more salt analysis like the fandom portrays ushijima as a farmer. Yamagata as the guy who.loses his phone,. Kageyama the guy who is obsessed with milk. Kiyoko just being a pretty face.

Sen: I'm gonna do these for the last ones because oh my god this Internet is shite. - Kiyoko: There's copious amounts of bullshit aimed at her. "She gets in the way of yaoi": 1. No characters have romantic relations except the Captain of Nohebi and that one team with Himekawa that I've forgotten he name of. 2. Yaoi, gay porn, has no place in canon and is strictly something that comes from fanon argument. Kiyoko is more than a pretty face. She is respected by her team and praised because she works hard for them. She's intelligent and can collect data on volleyball despite not actually playing it. SHE USED TO BE A RUNNER AND CAN DEAL WITH KARASUNO AND THEIR BS. She's woman of the year.- Ushijima "I'm gonna fuck the fertile soil" Wakatoshi: He talked about soil once. It was a good comparison to be fair (when people say Wakatoshi is unable to be good with literature I'd direct them to that quote). We only really know that his mother's family is traditional. That doesn't mean farmer. People blow things way out of proportion. There's memes and then thinking it's actually a viable idea like no chill.- Yamagata: Current concerns really get blown up outta proportion. Like honestly? Yeah, it's not like he loses it every week. He barely has has a personality and I just like his character design. Furudate doesn't give us much but people taking so many jumps they might as well be Hinata. - Kawanishi "the sun burns and i am weak" Taichi: Same with Kawanishi and his allergies, he just says his allergies are acting up and everyone likes to say "yeah he's allergic to grass and everything if you give him cheese he dies" - I only head canon him as having two severe allergies cause that's how I am.

Just an idea popped out from Drawpile

Warning: I might make a lot of mistakes in this post bc why not so this is it. Oh, plus harsh language too (as usual i guess).

Okay okay, so, I was drawing on drawpile with peeps and something HAPPENED (greatest introduction ever)

see, on drawpile I draw HorrorSans like that (cartoon character and Croc -bloody bird guy- by @peanutable):

and LustSans this way (plus Pap cuz why not, although I changed his clothing so it isn’t very representative of the original):

And I somehow mixed them up at some point...

May I introduce you to... GoreSans!!!

Let me explain you what he would be if I happened to make an AU around the thing. Well, I DON’T intend to do many things about it so I wouldn’t call it an AU but since I can’t let a character like him with no proper environment to set him in I can’t let you without developping the idea a bit further.

It’s basically a coherent and logical mix between Underlust and Horrortale.

Now those who know what I’m talking about will think I consider them like dumbass, but I’ll develop the idea anyway and that needs a quick reminder of what those two AUs are (don’t blame me for my unecessary rigor):

Underlust. Well, I’d davise you to go check UnderLust Shame Cave, unless you’re under 18 and/or allergic to NSFW. WOW STOP ASKING YOURSELF I won’t make anything NSFW here don’t worry. I’ll try my best to soften everything for it to be accessible to anyone who might be reading this. If you feel offended despite my efforts, say it (politely) in the ask box and I’ll change the tags^^

Now I haven’t read UnderLust very much and I don’t know what occured since a long time, but here’s a quick summary of what I know :

First, it may be NSFW, but the comic has real depht and emotions. There are reasons to WHY THE FUCK EVERYONE FUCKS and that makes this AU completely acceptable to me. Now, the reasons are Gaster and the decrease of fertility due to... well, imprisonment in the underground and chronic lack of hope I guess. Gaster intended to fix the fertility problem by extracting the Lust from the soul of the first human, Chara, who was a... sort of... sadistic bitch? Anyways. Injecting the Lust into (adult) monsters had two consequences: relatively NOT FIX the fertility problem making the children the last ganaration, and turn any adult monster into a slut.

Yeah that definitely legimimates the NSFW for me. Not that it needs any legitimation anyway XD because the comic that came (pun?) out of it is about true love VS lust, sexual identity, abuse and all the emotional mess that comes out of it (hehe da inententional pun lol). So it is surpisingly interesting and kinda moving.

Horrortale. This AU is particular because it is settled in the FUTURE of one of the neutral run. Now, any sensible undertale player WOULDN’T want to have to face the consequences of any run that didn’t ended peacefully, would they?... uh, guess I would at some point...

Anyways, that makes the Horrortale AU really interesting because it just puts some canon facts together and think of how it would evolve with time.

Let’s observe some of said facts:

Toriel attempting to legally take the power and ease everyone’s pain with peace.

Oh! Your acts have consequences!^^ Peace isn’t an option now.

Putsch.

Crusader, surely future tyran.

Sans and Papyrus tempering the current crusader future tyran.

Bros will be bros.

... Click! (Am I the only one that saw a sort of threat in his last word..?)

SO Undyne putsched Toriel out (it’s definitely a coup since Undyne is the equivalent of the General of the Army) and now rules over the Underground with an iron fist in order to develop drastically the army for her to wage a holy war against humanity, implying she will do everything for her army to be well fed above citizens. Mh.

If she’s not going to become a tyran, I dunno.

Now I’m leaving canon facts to start about horror tale context:

To summary, the underground has turned into a sort of dystopic HELL OF A BLOODY MESS since the common monsters who didn’t contributed to Undyne’s army were left starving and had to rely on the only edible things they had on hand: other monsters.

Now feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I can remember, this is what turned monsters into... well, dangerous monsters.

SO, now, what would a mix between the two look like? Let’s finally talk about GoreTale!! (okay well I said I wouldn’t make an AU, BUT if this can inspire anyone to develop it into a proper one THAT’D BE FUCKIN COOL OMFG)

So it is set in the future of one particular run of UnderLust if this AU were to be adapted into an Undertale-like video game; Asgore is dead and the other souls disappeared, leaving the monsters behind with grief and despare. At least one monster has been killed by Frisk so that Undyne, Head of the Royal Harem (this is how it is in underlust DON’T ASK ME) decides to rule over the underground with fierce will to destroy all human kind. Because she knows nothing else, she turns the underground into a bloody brothel since she considers people had to surrender their mind, soul AND bodies to her royal persona and cause, plus she being blood thirsty after human’s decay, she does it overly sadistical and strong. Sans tried to temper her at first since his brother was now part of the official Royal Harem and feared for his safety, but she slowly became unreasonable. A bloody tyran, unrelenting and craving for physical and mental/moral abuse.

So Sans gave up on her, even though she was his queen, and left the capital with his brother. His confrontation against her left its mark on his skull, revealing a new aspect of this character: he no longer has only 1HP since he got some new LV by abusing and killing other monster for self-defense and his own need for food and relief. So the head blow didn’t kill him (and I don’t think it should have since Undyne surely must have wanted to keep him locked up somewhere she could torture him in order to mindfuck his personnality..?). Anyways, he must have scared her (or at least surprise her enough for her to let him go with his bro). They returned to Snowdin, and made an agreement with the Queen so that she doesn’t hunt them down: they guard Snowdin and bring her any human that comes by (since they are two of the rare monster that can live under harsh cold weather and that Undyne hates it, it makes sense, besides she doesn’t have to fear Sans and Papyrus’s ambitions to steal human souls from her bc they only intend to survive by their own, away from any form of control over them). And for the other snowdin inhabitants and soldiers she could send to Snowdin instead of potential / official trators, we can state that they are either loyal to the crown in some extreme ways but temper their wrath and lust around the skelebros bc they would surely bone them to death, making the boney bros kinda the chiefs in snowdin, or they are refugees that flee the Queen’s command and sought for protection of the weather and the skelebros, OR they all dead bc skelebros ate them up in all ways.

SO Goretale wouldn’t be the best life place to settle. Horrortale and Underlust aren’t either, but the mix between the two must be even more sordid and glaucous and bloody and slutty at some point and completely infernal. I could see an H.R Giger style for the environment that possibly evolved with the monsters, but with more colours. If you don’t see what I’m talking about, go check by yourselves; the first images must be eloquent enough.

Okay just one example that has no hidden nsfw:

Frogman - Giger meets Escher. imagine it with some red and gold and that’d be totally fit (or not. I don’t care.) I advise you to see more by searching HR Giger.

Warning: it’s art in the “noble” way, but it’s still definitely NSFW AND sordid as heck. So unless your innocence is so extreme you are immuned to sin or you love that kind of thing or you are appealed by some artistical curiosity, keep out!^^ (H.R Giger is a german artist that designed lots of great things including the Aliens of... Aliens. So it’s real good culture and you can check it out without any sinful interest other than artistical curiosity. You’re welcome.)

NOW THE REAL THING (finally. Why the fluff are my summaries always so long?!?)

You know that drawpile allows people to draw at the same time on the same canvas (I feel like I’m repeating myself). Well, tht’s great and it allows things like that to pop out:

Little funny doodles made with @peanutable (here is her OC Verdana, cute lil’ kiddy flowery skely-like monster that is innocence itself why am I not ashamed of putting Goresans in front of him?!? I SHOULD DIE ALREADY SAINTE MERDE !! ).

Now THE GREATEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME ON DRAWPIIILE !!!

Frisk by @sky-lia !! She and @peanutable are such amazing artists !! It really inspires me when I see them drawing, and putting my characters in front of theirs really shows the difference of skill! It encourages me a lot to practice and catch the level! And it is really lots of fun to do^^ Oh My Gnarls Frisk is SOOO adorable they manage to move and disconcert GoreSans! And it shows a nice and somewhat cute part of him I surely would never have thought of if I didn’t draw with them ;) (oh well, after all, in this crazy fandom people see cuteness anywhere, even in the most unsettling places, so OF COURSE GoreSans is also a Teddy Bear lmao)

That’s it for today! That’s All Forks! (this pun MUST have been made already)

The Final Adventure

A Carry On Leavers Ball Fanfic 

words: 7,808

a/n: Big thanks to my irl friend Josie, who beta’d my fic, helped me when I got stuck, and didn’t get mad at me for dragging her into another fandom (okay, she got a little mad, but softened when I agreed to let her read some of my favorite fics). This is a normal 8th year fic, but I’ve obviously changed a bit from canon. i’ve also made the decision to post all the chapters at once.

Please like or reblog this so I’ll know if I should post more, and inbox ways I could improve (be nice tho pls I’m fragile).

ONE

x simon x

Going through the eighth year at Watford is optional. Attending the Leavers Ball at the end of term is also optional, but if you told this to certain people, they’d go to extreme lengths in order to convince you otherwise.

Penny is one of those people.

I was planning on going to the Leavers Ball anyways, but if I hadn’t been, Penny would’ve scared me into it. She keeps saying stuff like “it’ll be our final adventure at Watford!” and honestly, it makes me sad. She makes it sound like our promise to get a flat together is something she’s still thinking about, something that isn’t final. Of course, I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to live with her boyfriend, Micah, in America instead, but I’m still trying to cling onto what sliver of hope I have.

Penny and Agatha are in the library, looking at pictures of dresses on Google Images, and I’m sitting in a chair beside them, reading. Penny’s usually not one to get dressed up, but she’s practically obsessing over finding the perfect dress. Agatha, on the other hand, seems like she’s got it figured out. Which means I’ve got it figured out, because finding a tie that matches the color of her dress does not seem like a difficult task.

“What about this one, Penny?” Agatha points a manicured finger at the screen, and Penny scrunches her nose.

“It’s too long! I’ll trip.”

“Not if you wear heels,” Penny shakes her head and scrunches her nose again, and Agatha frowns, dropping her hand. They continue pointing out dresses to each other and disagreeing for well over half an hour, and I’m so lost in what I’m reading that I don’t hear what they’re talking about. When I finally look up, they’re both already looking at me.

I clear my throat, “hey, do you guys think vampires are actually allergic to garlic?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you go ask one?” Agatha scowls, and I blink. “Have you even been listening to me?”

“Uh… no,” I’m nothing if not honest. Agatha throws her hands in the air and looks over at Penny. Penny just raises her eyebrows and leans back in her chair.

“I asked you if chartreuse is okay for my dress.”

“That’s… that’s red, right?”

“It’s yellow-green, Simon. Honestly. Do you even want to go to the Leavers Ball?”

“Yes! Yes of course, Agatha. Yellow is fine.”

She softens, “okay.  I’ll show it to you when it comes in the mail.”

“Looking forward to it,” I smile.

Penny rolls her eyes, “you guys are gross. I’m going back to my room,” she stands and slings her bag over one shoulder.

“We’re gross? Trixie and her girlfriend are probably going to be in the room once you get there.”

“Yeah, but they’re gross for different reasons,” Penny pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stares at us. I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what she means and I’m too scared to ask, at least while Agatha is here.

After it’s silent for a few seconds, she sighs and turns around. We watch her walk out the door, then Agatha stands up and pulls her messenger bag over her head. “Walk me to my building?”

“Yeah,” I agree, putting my book away and reaching for her hand.

  x baz x

I’m on way back to the dorms after school when Dev spots me across the courtyard. I know he’s looking at me, and he knows I know he’s looking at me, but that doesn’t stop me from quickening my pace away from him. “Basil! Basil!”

I sigh and slow down considerably, and he hastens to catch up with me. He quickly falls into step beside me, his voice kind of breathy. I’m such a great friend.

“Mary Smith,” he raises his eyebrows at me and smirks, like that name is supposed to mean something to me.

“What about her?” I stop before going up the Mummers House steps and move out of Gareth’s way before he runs into me.  

“I asked her to the Leavers Ball,” Dev smiles, and I realize this must mean she said yes.

“That’s great; I’m happy for you,” and I am. I give him two pats on the shoulder, but pull back when he starts speaking again, far too excited for my taste.

“You know she has a twin, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you going to ask Kaitlyn to the dance?”

I laugh, and shake my head, unable to contain myself, “why would I want to have the same date as you?”

He scoffs, “they’re different people, Basil. Alright then, who are you asking?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody!” He throws his hands up in the air, apparently extremely offended, “you might as well just not go at all!”

“A date is not required.”

“Like hell it isn’t. There are loads of girls without dates yet. Why haven’t you asked someone out by now?”

“We still have two weeks. And besides,” I pause, making sure he’s looking me in the eyes, “a date. is not. required.” I start up the stairs, clearly done with this conversation, leaving Dev baffled and still quite a bit offended.

I hear him mumble “wait until I tell Niall,” but I honestly couldn’t care less. I know there are a lot of girls without dates, and I know most of them would say yes if I asked, but there aren’t any girls at this school that I would want to ask. There aren’t even any boys I would want to ask. Or could ask. There’s not a single soul that I’d like to hold hands with, or slow dance with, or scoop gross fruit punch into a plastic cup for. There isn’t a single person at this school that I’d like to go to the dance with.

Except Simon Snow.

TWO

x baz x

Even if Snow was girlfriendless and gay, there’d still be a larger chance of getting struck by lightning than me going to the ball with him. He kind of hates me. And I hate him too; I hate his stupid curls and his stupid golden skin, and the obnoxious way he smells like cinnamon and smoke. I hate how he makes my heart jump out of my chest sometimes, or how he can take away my breath just by looking at me a certain way, with so much annoyance and hatred.

Just as I’m thinking this, he walks into the room we share and falls into his bed. He lays there staring at the ceiling for only a moment before exhaling forcefully and throwing his elbow over his eyes. His shirt lifts up when he does this, revealing a golden strip of skin below his wrinkled white button-up and above his belt. I allow myself a glance at it, before returning my attention back to the notes sprawled out on my bed.

We try to ignore each other when we’re in the room, which usually works out for us. Though, it’s hard to ignore him when he keeps sighing at random intervals. After a few minutes of this, I put my pen down and look over at him.

“Will you stop that, Snow?” I squint at him, and he lifts his arm slightly, one eye peeking out from behind his arm. He drops it down again, and there’s a pause.

“Sorry…” he says quietly.

I spend a few more minutes annotating my notes before looking over at Snow. He had been so quiet I was almost convinced he left the room. But now, I see why he was so quiet. His cheeks are red and damp, and a tear is slowly rolling down his cheek.

I can’t think of a single reason why Snow would be crying. I should be crying, what with all this bloody homework I have to have done before tomorrow.

Knowing that he is crying merely a few feet away from me is making it impossible to concentrate on anything else. At least I know I’m not the reason he’s upset, although I have made him cry a few times in the pfast. After fifth year, I tried to be more conscious of my words, making sure that teasing him never crosses the line into hurting him.

“Snow, are you…” I start, trying to make my voice as non-patronizing as I can.

“No,” he replies before I can get the rest of my sentence out, his voice raspy.

“Excuse me?”

“You were going to ask if I’m okay. The answer is no. And I know you’re asking because you pity me, not because you care. So I’m not going to bother answering your next question, which is going to be ‘what’s wrong?’.”

“...That’s not what I was going to ask at all.”

“It’s… not?”

“I was going to ask if you needed the shower,” I sneer, standing up and making my way to my wardrobe across the room. This is a terrible save, because usually he showers in the mornings, but he must buy it because he just utters a small ‘oh’ from under his arm.

I just need to get away from his crying before I try to do something about it. Like hug him. If I tried to touch him, that would surely be the end of me, anathema ignored. Even if he didn’t kill me, I’d die just as easily of embarrassment.

There’s also the possibility of me making it worse, whatever is going on with him. I told myself to be more conscious of my words, but he makes it so damn easy to insult him when he’s pushing me. Sometimes I think he actually enjoys fighting with me. Then I remember he must, because for some twisted reason, I like it too.

I grab my stuff and shut the door to the bathroom. I marvel at the absence of Snow’s dirty towels on the floor, but notice he’s left the cap off his toothpaste again. I shake my head and smile before I recap the toothpaste, then turn on the shower head.

Once I’m in the shower it’s easier to think. My thoughts flow from Snow to the Leavers Ball like lava in a lamp. Sometimes the thoughts come together and I have to tell myself ‘no, bad Baz. That is not happening, and you know it.’

I end up spending way longer in there than I should, and the water goes cold.

x simon x

Once Baz is in the shower it’s easier to think. I stopped crying after talking to him, which is odd, but I’m relieved. Maybe I was just cried out and all dried up. I don’t enjoy crying, so I’m thankful I’ve stopped, but I still feel like something’s wrong. Something’s missing.

This is all wrong. So wrong. The way Agatha held my hand on the way to her building, like my hand was too big for her. Like we didn’t fit. The way Penelope seems to be spending more time talking about the ball than reading these days. The way nobody seems to be feeling scared about their future except me.

It feels like everyone has got it all figured out. Penelope and Agatha know exactly what university they want to go to and what they want to do with their lives. I don’t know anything, and I’m scared. I’m scared of being left behind.

It’s stupid. I know they’re not going to abandon me, but at the same time, why would they want me to stay in their lives? I’m a terrible mage. Eight years at Watford; by now I thought maybe I would’ve learned how to actually do magic correctly. It’s not the school’s fault, it’s mine. I’m a grenade, just waiting to go off. And Crowley, I wish I would go off already and get it over with.

x baz x

By the time I get out of the shower, Snow’s passed out. He’s not wearing the school pajamas he always wears to sleep. Instead, he’s still in his school uniform, lying almost the exact same way he was before I left the room. I wonder what he was doing the whole time and what he was thinking about.

I stare down at him, his freckles wet and his nose red, his hair mussed and falling into his eyes. His blanket has fallen on the floor sometime while I was gone. I hesitate, staring down at him, before grabbing the blanket off the floor and pulling it up to his chin.  He doesn’t stir, which is good because again, I’d die of embarrassment.

I clear the notes off my bed, feeling only slightly annoyed at Snow for distracting me from my homework. In all honesty, he’s always a distraction for me, even when he’s not there. And I can’t be mad at someone for being upset, because I highly doubt he’d make himself cry just to spite me.

Once I’m under my blankets, it doesn’t take long for sleep to pull me under too.

THREE

x simon x

“How do I look?” Penny twirls around once and then plops down onto Baz’s bed in front of me. She’s wearing a mint dress that goes just past her knees, and a matching silk shawl is wrapped loosely around her elbows. Her feet are bare; she’s left her shoes in the bathroom.

“Majestic,” I comment, as I loosen my green-and-black tie.

She snorts, “I’m not a horse, Simon.”

“You’re not? That explains a lot, actually.” This earns me a whack in the face with a pillow, one of Baz’s pillows, thrown at me in a low arch. I immediately retaliate with one from my bed, throwing it so it just barely hits her cheek, causing her glasses to become askew. She squeaks, then laughs, grabbing Baz’s other pillow and jumping up from his bed, towering above me. She starts pummelling me in the shoulder with it repeatedly, and I try to kick her away from me.

“Mercy, Penny, Mercy!” I gasp, trying to catch a breath in between fits of laughter.

“Don’t call me a horse!” she giggles, every word accented by another hit in the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt.

I hear our door creak open and we freeze, eyes wide, Penny hovering over me, her pillowed hand pulled back, ready to strike again, my foot pressed to her stomach, my hand reaching for the pillow. He clears his throat, and we turn our heads toward the door.

Baz has never seen Penny in our room. For eight years, we’ve been careful to have her out of the room before he gets back, but I’ve been so distracted lately that things like that have been regularly slipping my mind. The three of us continue to stare at each other, as if time is actually frozen. Penny is the first to break the silence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, Simon.” She lowers her head and walks briskly out of the room, accidentally hitting Baz on the way. He squints when she goes past, then lifts his chin a little higher and locks eyes with me. I lift my chin in response, matching his expression as best as I can, although I’m not exactly sure what his expression is. My eyes dart to the right, making sure my wand is still resting on my bed, should I need it. I hear Baz snort.

“Do you really think I’d waste my time hurting you over that,” he says as he crosses the room. I have the striking suspicion that the ‘that’ he was referring to is Penny.

“I thought you were at football practice,” I said dumbly, trying to come up with an excuse as to why Penny would be in our room, even though I know that’s a bad one. I decide to ignore what he said and grab my wand anyway.

“I was. Obviously,” I look down at his uniform and feel embarrassed. He turns towards his wardrobe, and I relax a little. “How did Bunce get past the gender barrier?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully, twisting my wand in my lap.

“You don’t know?” He chortles, then turns around with his pajamas in hand, “I hope you realize I have ways of finding out.”

“Well, if you figure it out, please tell me.” Baz shakes his head, most likely still not believing that I don’t know how Penelope gets in the room, then goes into the bathroom.

Not even a second later, I hear him shout my name. “Snow!”

“What?” I push myself off the bed and open the bathroom door. I look up at him, then my eyes follow where he’s pointing. There’s a pile of Penny’s clothes on the floor; her button-up, her tie, her socks, her skirt.

“Those aren’t mine.”

“I guessed,” he stares at me. “Well?”

“Oh, right.” I start picking them up, and I see him fold his arms out of the corner of my eye.

“Could we speed up this process, maybe?” He taps his foot impatiently, like he has somewhere to be. Stupid, annoying prat.

I stop what I’m doing so I can stand up straight and stare hard at him, then I drop the clothes back onto the floor. He scoffs, reaching the other end of the tiny bathroom in one long stride, arriving just a couple inches in front of me, still scowling. Now that I’m this close to him, I can see that a few strands of hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat from practice, and there’s a vein on his forehead pulsating.

“Anathema!” I remind him, before he tries anything. I can tell he’s annoyed, which was my intention, but he’s already tried to kill me a couple times and I’d rather not  make this the third.

“I could get Bunce in so much trouble,” he starts, ignoring me. “Don’t press me, Snow. If you press me, I’ll press right back,” he presses his hand to my chest as he says this, then pushes me out of the room and closes the door in my face before I can react.

“Are you just going to keep Penny’s clothes, then?” I call through it, a strange image of Baz in Penny’s clothes appearing in my head. I hear Baz let out an annoyed groan, and the next thing I know, the door flings open. Penny’s clothes come flying out at me and one of her shoes bounces off of the top of my head.

“Anathema,” I mutter, rubbing my head, but I know that he didn’t mean to actually hit me- at least, I don’t think that he did- and therefore the Anathema won’t affect him.

FOUR

x baz x

I wouldn’t actually rat out Bunce; I couldn’t care less about how it would affect her, but I know tattling would make Snow too upset. Besides, it’s more trouble than it’s worth, talking to the Mage, and I don’t think she’ll be coming back anymore anyways.

He’s been spending a lot of time with her lately, I’ve noticed. Snow always follows around Bunce like a puppy on a short leash, but usually Wellbelove is hovering somewhere close by. I haven’t seen her with them for the past few days.

Not that I spend all of my free-time stalking Snow; it’s just hard to ignore his bouncing head of curls in the hall or his boisterous voice on the lawn, and I notice things.

I look over at Snow sitting just a couple seats next to me. We’re in our Ancient Runes class, the only class I share with him. It’s a pretty pointless subject, considering nobody actually uses this magic anymore. But it’s a required one, and thankfully, a pretty easy one. I spend most of the class staring out the window and wishing I was almost anywhere else, with the monotone voice of the professor as background noise to my thoughts.

Snow is scribbling notes lazily with his fountain pen, occasionally looking up to see if our professor has broken his lecture to write anything important on the board (spoiler alert: he hasn’t). Sometimes he’ll furrow his eyebrows and stare down at his paper before scratching something out then writing furiously over it. How Snow can remain animated in a class as boring as this one is beyond me, but I’m glad he does.

I feel vulnerable staring at him in class, but he’s the most interesting thing happening at the moment. He’s always the most interesting thing happening, but now that my choices are limited to watching him or watching dust settle on the windowsill, this is even more true.

I look past him and see that Wellbelove is staring at me. Well, that’s odd. She notices that I’m looking at her and flushes. She dips her head down to look at her notes, and I do the same.

Oh Merlin. There’s ink on my hand and my notes are smudged; tiny little hearts are scattered in the margins. Is… is that why Wellbelove was staring at me? She couldn’t have seen what I was doing (I didn’t even see what I was doing)- she’s sitting too far away.  

After class is over and I’m almost out the door, I see Wellbelove rush from her seat towards me. “Wait- Basilton!”

There’s no chance for me to pretend I didn’t hear her- we’re the only people left in the classroom. I sigh and turn to her, “yes, Wellbelove?”

“I…” she takes her place in front of me and we end up standing beside the classroom door. “Y-you were staring at Simon. You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

I laugh harshly, pleased with Wellbelove’s assumption. “If I was going to hurt him, wouldn’t that be only my business and his?” I start walking, hoping she won’t follow. Not much luck there.

I make long strides, and Agatha’s feminine legs struggle to keep up with mine. I can still hear her chasing after me once I’ve made it outside. Can’t she take a hint?

“Stand Your Ground!” I hear her cast, and I groan. Apparently taking a hint is not one of Wellbelove’s many talents. She circles around me, throwing her long blonde hair over one shoulder.

“What are you planning?” She demands, pointing her wand at my chest. I don’t say anything, not at all intimidated by her. She gets frustrated quickly. “Look, Simon is my b- my friend, and as his friend, it’s my duty to protect him.”

“Duty? He’s not a damsel in distress, you know- wait, did you say ‘friend’?” I smirk, not missing the way her voice faltered, like it pained her to say it. Did Snow and Wellbelove break up? Well, that would explain why he wasn’t as chipper as usual this morning before class. Usually he makes every noise possible while getting ready, but today, I actually slept an extra half-hour.

“I… That’s not your business,” Wellbelove mumbles sheepishly, shrinking back from me.

“Oh, so now we’re supposed to respect what is and isn’t someone’s business?”

She sighs. “You know, if you weren’t so… you… maybe more people would actually want to spend time with you.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Like me.”

I don’t mean to laugh, but that doesn’t stop me from doing it, anyway. “You? So that’s what this is really about? A social call? What, next are you going to ask me to the ball?”

Wellbelove doesn’t respond, just lowers her wand from my chest and stares at the grass.

“Merlin, you were! I can’t believe this! Well, I’m sorry to decline your offer, Wellbelove, but I actually planned on going alone. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble at all finding someone else at this school who would love to go to the ball with someone such as yourself.”

“Why do you always have to be so mean, Basilton? I’m sorry I asked, okay? Is that what you want? This was a… a mistake. I’ll just... leave.” Her voice is shaky, and if she starts crying, I’m going to feel like the worst person on the planet.

“Wait, Agatha… I didn’t mean to make you upset. I really do mean that there are plenty of other people who would love to go with you, if what you’re implying about Simon and yourself are true.” She nodded. “I guess you’re right….”

“Good. Now, undo the spell, please, and if this ends up affecting my ability to play football… then you’re really going to see how mean I can be.”

FIVE

x simon x

The thunder crackles around me, lightning illuminating our room through the window in rapid intervals like a polaroid camera. It’s the kind of storm that rattles windowpanes and makes you think there’s a war waging upon your doorstep with every boom of thunder.

I had dozed off with my face pressed against an open library book, and the thunder wakes me with a start, almost knocking me from my desk chair. My cheek feels sticky from what I assume is the result of my face being stuck to a page, but looking down at my book I realize it’s from the small puddle of drool I’ve created while asleep. It distorts some of the words on the already-yellow page. Gross.

After I stop gagging at my uncultured sleeping habits, I notice the windowpane is, in fact, rattling. Shit. I fully intended to close it once I saw the gray cumulonimbus clouds passing over the courtyard, but I was only really expecting a little bit of rain, not an all out flood.

No matter the circumstances, I pull the window close and assess the damage. The floor in front of it is soaked, and though it’s on my side of the room, I know Baz is going to be pissed when he finds out. I throw a towel over it, accomplishing almost nothing, then I decide that it looks suspicious and I dump a pile of dirty clothes on top of it. I can already hear Baz’s ‘I told you so’ tone about always leaving the window open, even though when it’s closed the room gets sticky and hot. The hotness may not bother him, with his constant chill, but I can’t stand it.

Mentioning of Baz, where is he? Surely he can’t still be in the catacombs when it’s pouring like this? I try to get a glimpse out the window when the lightning flashes, but even with the light, the rain is so heavy that it’s impossible to see anything.

I check the clock on my laptop and see that it’s close to midnight, which means I’ve been asleep for a good few hours, which means Baz has been gone for more than a good few hours. Where is he?

x baz x

There’s a lot to be said about someone who asks their dead mother’s grave for advice about a ball they hardly want to go to. I know she probably can’t hear me, but she’s the only person I’d want to talk to about all this. The only person I trust.

“Maybe you could take Fiona,” I say outloud to myself. “She’s young-looking enough to pass as a student. But what fresh ways of embarrassing me could she come up with?”

Because of this, I’ve been down here for far longer than usual. I usually leave once I feel full, but tonight I just feel like being alone. It’s quiet here, and nobody ever bothers me (except for Snow, but he hasn’t followed me here in ages). It’s almost peaceful enough that I could just lean my head against a wall and doze off….

I’m not completely asleep when I hear the first crack of thunder. I stand up swiftly, swaying with the quickness of it, and start walking back to the Mummers house.

I can see rather well in the dark, but the sheets of rain and the wind slow me down a little. My clothes must be ruined; I can tell I’m soaked to the bone because this is the coldest I’ve felt in a while. I fling open the door, not caring if I wake Snow up, focused on getting into something dry and warm.

x simon x

The door flings open and a flash of lightning backdrops a shadow that I don’t recognize as Baz at first, with his hair hanging like curtains in front of his eyes giving him the appearance of something from a horror movie. He stomps into the room leaving a trail of water behind him, and suddenly I don’t feel so bad about leaving the window open. His white shirt is clinging to him, and I can see through it to his pale torso. He looks like shit; I’ve never seen him so messy and uncomposed like this before.

I watch wordlessly as he shuffles through his wardrobe, grumbles something, then walks into the bathroom.

He’s back not even a minute later, and announces “Powers out.”

“I’m not surprised.” Only the plumbing runs on electricity at Watford; we use candles for lighting inside the dorms and the school buildings. The candles are magic and they don’t melt or need to be relit. I watch from the edge of my bed as he walks in front of me and opens a drawer to my wardrobe.

“What the hell are you doing?” I pop up and push the drawer closed, and he pulls his hands back in surprise, most likely because I was only a hair off from squashing his fingers.

He brings a hand up to his forehead and runs it through his hair, trying to slick it back. Most of it just falls back into his eyes again. I try not to laugh.

“I need a towel,” when he pushes his hair back the second time, I can see the whites of his eyes are slightly red, and I almost feel sorry for him.

“Oh,” I blatantly glance over at the spot by the window and then back up at him. “Er, I don’t have any more.”

He ignores me and tries to open my drawer again. “Hey! Did you even hear me? Stop trying to open my drawer.”

“Why, is that where you keep your skirts?” He smirks.

“No, because I don’t like you touching my stuff,” I say, frowning, my sympathy and patience for him leaving as quickly as it came. “And that was Penny’s!”

“Well, I don’t like you being in the same room as me, but you learn to deal with these things,” he retorts. I keep my hand pressed firmly against the drawer as he tries to open it again.

With a groan of frustration, he removes his hands and turns to me. Suddenly, his hand is on top of mine, and the cold wetness of his skin and the fact that he’s touching me leaves me too shocked to move. When he laces his fingers with mine, I yank my hand away and blink up at him.

Satisfied, he pushes past my socks and boxers, like I have a secret hoard of towels tucked away at the bottom of the drawer. My cheeks feel hot. With a soft “hm” he closes the drawer.

“I… I wasn’t lying,” I stutter. My cheeks feel really hot. I wish I could open the window without letting in the still raging storm, but I doubt that would help the storm raging in my stomach.

Baz crosses over me and produces pajama bottoms and a plain white polo from his wardrobe. My eyes follow him the entire way; he’s still dripping onto the carpet. “Snow, close your mouth. It makes you look ridiculous. Not that you don’t anyways.”

I feel sick, and I don’t know why. Maybe he hypnotized me or did some weird vampire magic that doesn’t require him to speak. Either way, I want it to stop. “I… I need some fresh air.” I sway, taking a step forward towards the door.

“It’s still raining. Or did you manage to forget? If anyone could, it’d be you.” Baz unceremoniously reaches behind himself and pulls his shirt over his head. He never gets dressed in the room, at least not when I’m around to see.

His torso is what you’d expect from someone who regularly plays football. He’s got muscle, but he’s still fairly lean, and he’s paler there than anywhere else. He doesn’t look bad, which isn’t really surprising considering how much pride he seems to take in his appearance.

All of this is so unlike him; the getting-dressed-in-front-of-me, the touching, his deep blue-water gray eyes looking red and glazed over to make a pale silver. Of course! The weird vampire magic wasn’t done to me, it was done to him! As much as I loathe Baz, I’d rather have him as a roommate than this imposter whose intentions I have no way of knowing.

My eyes widen as this creature throws the shirt onto his- no, not his- Baz’s bed, and I’m reaching for my wand faster than you can say Out, out, brief candle! Which I do, shrouding the room in darkness.

SIX

x baz x

“Merlin, Snow, what did you do that for?” I blink, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within a few seconds. I know Snow can’t see me, because he’s pointing his wand at least half a foot away from where I’m actually standing. He’s also holding it with both hands, his arms as outstretched as they’ll go without turning himself into elastigirl.

“What have you done with him? ...or to him, whatever,” his voice is resolute and final, like it’s definite that I know who ‘him’ is. I slowly pull on my shirt, careful not to make any noise in the process.

“Him who? What are you--”

“You know who! “ He shouts, his wand bobbing up and down with each syllable.

“Voldemort?” I smirk. “That’s not even the right fando-”

“See! Baz would never so blatantly break the fourth wall like that!”

“Baz-?” I start, but he cuts me off before I can even finish my sentence.

“Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”

“I’m… I’m right here?”

“RRRGGHH!!” Snow growls, pitching forward with a level of intensity and determination that I have never seen from him before-- and that’s saying something. He rams his foot into the edge of my bed and lets out a wail, dropping his wand and falling to floor.

I hastily pull my wand out of my trouser pocket and murmur If Only One Remembers to Turn on The Light, because for some reason, the only thing I can continue to think about while Snow is acting crazy is Harry Potter. The candles flicker again. He looks up at me like a wounded puppy, then hardens his expression and quickly reaches for his wand. He points it at me again, and stands, the toes on his left foot curled. “Don’t come any closer!”

I hold up both hands in surrender. “I haven’t moved a muscle since you ran at me.”

“Drop your wand!,” he says, and although it’s not a spell, I obey like it is, letting my wand fall unto the bed. “Where is he?” he demands again.

“Are you sure you haven’t got me confused with another Basilton Grimm-Pitch you know?”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Snow pushes on, ignoring me. “and I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me what you did.” He steps forward, and now his face is so close to mine that I can see each and every individual freckle on his nose.

“I didn’t… I mean, I am Baz-” he cuts me off by lightly pressing the tip of his wand into my neck.

“Don’t make me do this.”

“Simon,” I whisper, slowly moving my hand to push his wand down. His hand drops, and his eyes widen. I expect him to jump back, but he stays staring up at me. He’s breathing hard; I can feel his breath on my neck. Its warmness pools somewhere below my bellybutton.  

“So then… you are Baz?”

“Of course I am. And I’m very touched that you’d be willing to hurt someone for me, but you and I both know that you couldn’t do much damage with your wand.” I wait for him to protest, to spit at me and tell me to go fuck myself, but he doesn’t move.  “Who else would I be?”

“I just thought… I thought…,” he swallows, his eyes still wide.

“You thought…?” I try not to stare at his slightly-parted lips as I wait for his answer. He’s so close to me and I don’t really trust myself not to do anything about it, so I grab his elbow and push him back a little. Just a step; I don’t want him too far from me. He doesn’t flinch when I touch him, so I don’t move my hand.

He doesn’t respond. “Well, whatever it is, you thought wrong.”

Now he’s blinking, his eyes pinned to my chest, staring right through me. It’s like someone’s cast a Stay, Stay, Good Boy! on him. “Snow? Are you okay?” A-and I’m asking because I’m concerned, not because I- how did you put it?- ‘pity you’.”

He looks up at me as if he’s just come out of a trance. “I’m fine,” he squares his shoulders and I drop my arm before he realizes it’s there.

“I don’t think you are. Your face is really red, do I need to get someone-”

“No, don’t. I’m fine. I don’t want you running after me; if I needed something, I’d get it myself. I don’t need  you.”

“I never said you did…,.” I mumble, but he’s already walking away from me. I feel like our conversation is over, and now we’re going to go back to ignoring each other for the rest of the night. Now that we started talking, I certainly don’t want to stop. I never want to stop talking to Snow, but something feels… different tonight. I’m worried about him, if I’m being honest.

I emerge from the bathroom, changed into my jeans, feeling dryer and warmer. My hair is clumping together and falling in my eyes, but I guess I’ll just have to deal.

“Me and Agatha broke up.”

“I-- what?”

“The other day.”

“Okay?”

“She said it was because of you.”

I sit down on the edge of my bed, parallel to him. He’s sitting on the edge of his, too, his elbows digging into his thighs and his hands in his hair. I wait for him to look up at me, but he never does. I wonder if that would hurt more.

“I don’t know why she would say that,” I admit, thoroughly confused. Wellbelove didn’t speak to me until after the two of them had broken up.

“That’s all she told me.”

“Oh. Well… she did try to ask me to the ball…,” I offer, not wanting to keep any secrets from him.

“What?!” His head snaps up, and there’s more heat in his eyes than in all the lit candles in the room combined. I hold up my hands in surrender.

“I didn’t do anything, Simon. I don’t like her in the slightest, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do anything about it. It’s not honorable to pine after someone who's in a relationship, though, sometimes you can’t exactly choose who you fall for….”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” He’s right. I shrug.

He sighs, then falls back onto his mattress with a soft thud, thoroughly breaking our brief moment of eye contact. “Man. This sucks. I’m going to the ball alone, and my ex-girlfriend is going to it with my roommate.”

I laugh. “Simon, I told her no.”

Simon sits up again, leaning forward towards me from his bed. He’s a little too close for my liking. “You did? But why?”

Despite this, I do nothing to widen the distance between us. “I told you. I don’t like her.”

And neither does he. But what he does do, is smile. I can’t help it; I smile too. “Well, this sucks considerably less, but it still sucks. I still have no one to go with.”

“What about Bunce?”

“She didn’t want to say she’s going with me then feel bad later when she inevitably spends most of the night talking to Agatha.”

I nod. After a moment of silence, I speak again, “I could go with you.”

“Um,” is all he says. Then he blinks and leans back away from me.

“I…,” I start, then stop again. I don’t know how to dig myself out of that hole. Thankfully, I don’t have to.

“You know what? Sure. My week has already been awful; what harm is this going to bring? And anyway, we won’t have to ever see each other again afterward.”

I nod, unable to speak, my stomach twisting for more reasons than one.

SEVEN

x simon x

“Sorry,” I say as I look down to tie my bowtie.

“Why?” Baz asks, already completely ready, waiting for me at the door.

“First off, for taking so long, second off, for us not matching. Agatha’s dress was… what did she call it? Chartreuse? Anyway, I thought it was an ugly color, but I didn’t tell her that.”

“It’s alright. Your tie is still crooked, though.” The usual snarky comments from Baz have returned, but this time, it’s not said with any snark at all. It feels weird. It’s like eating a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich without the peanut butter. Though, I suppose that’d just be toast.

“Rrrrgh!,” I growl in frustration, not sure exactly how to tie a bowtie. Or any tie, for that matter. “Can you just tie it for me?”

“Um…” Baz looks me up and down, then furrows his eyebrows. “I-- I guess, yeah.”

He helps me, his hands shaking slightly for some reason, then we’re ready to leave.

Though we’re not linking arms or doing anything to really draw attention to ourselves, some of the people look surprised to see Baz and I walk through the door together, including Penny, and especially Agatha. I hover awkwardly in the doorway for a bit while Baz goes over to the table filled with finger foods. Penny leaves Agatha for a moment to come talk to me.

“Hey, Simon...,” she begins, slowly. Then, all at once, “can I just ask--”

“It’s not a big deal.” I shrug. And it isn’t. And it shouldn’t be. We just walked through the door together; nobody should be reading too much into it. “I know I’m not going to be spending most of the night with you guys, so--”

“Hey, no, don’t even say that. I’m still here for you, no matter what. You were my friend first, okay? I’m not taking sides.”

I frown. “How can you even say that, Penny? How can you say that, when you ditched me for her.”

“Simon, we were getting ready!”

“All weekend?”

“It’s what girls do, Simon.” She rolls her eyes, and I hate that she decided to wear her purple glasses with her mint-green dress, and I hate how beautiful I still think she looks in her dress even though I’m angry at her. I hate that our friendship is falling apart at this very moment, and it’s all my fault somehow. Most of all, I hate that I’m not actually angry at her. I’m sad, and I just don’t know how to handle that.

So instead, I don’t. I walk away from her, pressing the ball of my palm into my left eye. This was supposed to be our final adventure at Watford. I was supposed to be making small talk with Penny and Agatha about our outfits and plans for the future, but instead, I’m walking away from whatever friendship I had with them and trying not to cry.

I bump into someone, and for the first time in forever, I’m glad to see that it’s Baz. “Simon? Are you okay?”

I nod, even though it’s a lie that I know Baz will see right through. “I’m fine, I just… Penny was.…”

He looks disappointed in me and I feel ashamed. “You didn’t try to talk to her, did you?”

I nod again.

He sighs and offers me the sour cherry scone I didn’t realize he was holding. “Here. I know they’re your favorite.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hm,” Baz says, offering no other explanation. Nevertheless, I take it and thank him, eating it in only three bites.

The loud, upbeat music stops, and for a few seconds, spare for the quiet chatter here and there, it’s quiet. Then it’s replaced by a slower song, which I wouldn’t know until later was “Anathema” by Twenty One Pilots (I always wouldn’t realize how fitting it was until much later, too).

“Come on, Baz. Let’s go dance,” I say grabbing his hand. He flinches, then slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together until we get toward the middle of the dance floor, where he then moves his both hands to my shoulders.

“Why? Why are you slow dancing with me? You hate me.” He practically spits the word out, but his voice is sad. I shake my head.

“I don’t hate you, Baz.”

“Since when?”

I shrug from under his hands. “I don’t know. Do I have to figure that out now? I just want to live in this moment.”

He nods. “Okay, Simon.”

“Okay, now it’s my turn to ask: since when?”

“What?”

“Since when have I become Simon to you?”

“You’ve always been Simon to me. You’ve always been a lot to me, actually, but I didn’t really realize what exactly I thought of you until fifth year.”

“I don’t really understand what you mean,” I admit.

“Simon.” He slides one of his hands up from my shoulder to my cheek. It’s cold, and I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart thudding heavily in my cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

I swallow. I don’t think I realize what I’m agreeing to once I say yes, but Baz certainly does. And as he kisses me, I don’t feel like the Leavers Ball was my final adventure at Watford.  

It’s only the beginning of a new one with Baz.