Heartbeat

[image description: A grayscale Trigun comic featuring Vash and Wolfwood.

Against a black background, child Vash floats in Ship 5, curled up and with his thumb pressed to his mouth. Heartbeat noises sound around him, and he looks at peace. The background shifts to white and shows adult Vash, sitting shirtless with his knees pulled up to his chest. The heartbeat sound continues only to be interrupted by knocking. Wolfwood, from outside the bathroom, asks, "Hey blondie! You fell asleep in there?"

The scene expands to reveal Vash sitting curled up in the bathtub, shower spraying on the back of his head. His clothes are left aimlessly on the bathroom counter and floor. From outside the bathroom, Wolfwood, shrugging of his jacket, continues, "… The sand steamer leaves at dawn tomorrow so don't take all night. I'm not waking you up gently if you're late." Vash's eyes continue to look downward, glazed and unfocused. Step sound effects and a yawn sound from outside the bathroom before Wolfwood says, "'m going to bed…". In the tub, Vash sits curled up against a dark background, before eventually lifting his head and unfurling himself as the background grows lighter.

He twists around to turn off the shower and then looks at the floor, going, "Ah." He sits, thinking, before calling out "Wolfwood?". A sleepy Wolfwood replies, "…yeah?" from offscreen. "I forgot my towel!" Vash exclaims. "Ugh, look under your change of clothes… Knew you'd forget so I left it there…" a grouchy Wolfwood replies. "Gee, thanks!" Vash replies, a cartoony doodle of him saying "so reliable!".

Vash, shirtless but with sleep pants on, opens the door, towel draped over his head, to see Wolfwood, reclining on the bed. Wolfwood's smoking and holding his rosary, lit by the light from the bathroom. Vash climbs into bed next to him, towel still around his shoulders, and rests his head on Wolfwood's chest. His eyes close and then open to see Wolfwood watching him. Vash exclaims, "Oh! It's speeding up!, and Wolfwood bonks him on the head before saying, "Get on here since ya wanna be so up close 'n personal!". The two tussle briefly and Vash laughs before Wolfwood tucks the blanket around them. Wolfwood continues to smoke as Vash curls up against his chest and listens to his heartbeat, the background turning black once again as he smiles, content. /end id]

COULDA, WOULDA, SHOULDA, DIDN'T (ALTERNATE ENDING).

➳ synopsis: aventurine has never lost. that's what he tells people when he makes bets and in passing conversation about gambling. but every night when he lays in bed, he will always think about the day he almost lost you. angst version.

➳ character/s: aventurine

➳ warnings: 2.1 spoilers, aventurine backstory spoilers, aventurine real name spoilers, mentions of death, slavery (it's not romanticised, you're safe-), mentions of torture, blood, hurt/comfort, marriage, sleeping together (literally), reader described as beautiful

➳ word count: 0.7k

➳ notes: here's the happy version for those who were asking for it LMAO also i jumped on the bandwagon of fic writers inspired by aventurine official art-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

aventurine will never forget the day he met you. he himself didn't know much better than you did as you ran for your lives as children, but he knew he never wanted to see you like that ever again. that night, he thinks he fell in love.

even with the heavy metal cuffs crushing your wrists, he thought you were beautiful. in the most horrible circumstances, you found solace in each other's arms. aventurine made it a habit to kiss your brand mark and then your forehead as he let you use his arm as a pillow. any screams of pain either of you made as you were roughly dragged from your cell to undergo 'disciplining' haunt your minds in the rare moments of emptiness.

the day aventurine was bought away by jade, he's never felt fear quite the same as looking back and seeing you be dragged away by your cuffs, calling out for him as he left while you were pulled further down the abyss of pain and agony.

"i'll come back for you, wait for me!" he yelled behind him. he was desperate, he didn't know if he would ever get to come back for you and ultimately, that scared him more. the idea that his last interaction with you was filled with despair only fueled his desire to rise to the top. he would free himself and ensure that when (if) he freed you, you would have everything you needed immediately.

aventurine remembers the day he came back for you. he'd beat up a lot of guards, and possibly killed a couple, only to find you unconscious and bleeding onto the cold concrete floor in your cell. scrambling to his knees, he held you in his arms and bolted out the door, desperately praying to whatever god would listen that you were alive.

he lived a nightmare as you recuperated in hospital, but nothing came close to making him cry since leaving you than holding your hand and kissing you all over again as if it was your first time. each night as he slept in the chair beside your hospital bed, he wondered what would've happened if he never got to you or was too late.

when he proposed to you, it felt like a fever dream. when he woke up the next morning to see you beside him, ring glinting in the morning sun and cheek pressed into a silk pillowcase rather than dusty concrete. he smiled in adoration, pulling you closer by the waist and chuckling at your sleepy whine of protest before burying your head into his chest and falling back asleep. taking your hand in his, he kissed the ring he'd given to you as a token of your engagement, resting his chin atop your head.

his phone rang and he sighed, blindly reaching behind him to check who was calling him. dr. ratio.

groggily, he answered. "you're calling early, don't you know i'm spending my paid leave with my wonderful fiance?"

aventurine could practically hear the eye roll from dr. ratio over the phone. "i am well aware, i just thought you would want to be informed that i have located your old master that was missing from the premises when you were searching for them," he said, probably polishing one of his marble busts to occupy himself.

"...keep an eye on him. i'll figure out what to do with him when i get more sleep." and with that, aventurine hung up the phone. he returned his attention to you and caressed his thumb over your hip as he pondered this newfound information.

he could've lost you if he didn't get there when he did. he's grateful for that, because he can have you by his side forever and a little bit more. he would've come looking for you to discover you'd died if he didn't push himself harder than recommended to rise to the top. he should've lost you, for that is what the sick gods on some alternate plane of reality deemed reasonable for his kind.

he didn't.

⋆✮↪ Warning: rambles, tangents, soft yandere!Miguel, weird Miguel, OOC!Miguel probably but idc, shy and useless reader

╭─── based on my first yandere!miguel tangent ┆ ╰⪼ I want to dive into slightly more detail of how far Miguel goes in taking care of you. We have to keep in mind that Miguel has lost a lot, a whole universe, and his daughter. I imagine he'd be more of a normal boyfriend had he met you in normal circumstances. However, I also don't think you would've been his type for normal Miguel. You're more compliant, shy, and normal. You're also ditzy, clutzy, and barely scraping by in your home world. In front of the great geneticist of Alchemax and Spider-Man, he was definitely out of your league.

But, your normalcy and dysfunctional living habits create the perfect relationship for current Miguel. He's able to get away with so so so many things with you.

(You almost ran away once one night, but you stopped in front of the exit and hesitated. You were alone in this universe with no family, no version of your family existing in this world. You'd be a burden to the other Spider people, and Miguel is the only one doing more than just giving you a place to stay.)

For one thing, he sees you as a fragile little doll that was abandoned on the side of the road. Or a cute kitten. But more than a pet, he has to take care of every little inch and aspect of you. Having lost damn near everything, he needs to keep a close eye on the one he cares about.

The one he cares most now is you; you're all he's got.

Back to some of the things he'd do to you, well, they aren't harmful, just unnerving. He almost never lets you do anything yourself around the house. He let you cook once and you burned yourself slightly, and Miguel made sure no kitchen appliance like the stove or blender can turn on unless given a passcode. Even kitchen utensils especially knives were locked away. Don't get me wrong though, you can cook, but Miguel would rather die than see you wince in pain again.

You're allowed at least a microwave and airfryer to heat up food when Miguel's not home to do it for you, under Lyla's supervision. Believe me, if he's home, you're never lifting a finger in the kitchen, including dishwashing.

Speaking of cleaning, he actually quite enjoys cleaning the house, especially spaces you occupy in the most. He even carefully washes all of your clothes and underwear, and folds them away for you. The rest can be handled by other robots of course. He believes only he can provide you the best conditions to live in, no one and nothing else.

That includes care for your body. This is going to be the most prominent and unnerving aspect of his care for you. While him bathing you from head to toe almost everyday is tame, he's very particular in his details. Like mentioned before, he'd do your manicure and pedicure, your skincare routine (he even knows the weekly masks you put on), and haircare and hairstyling (he's done so much research, you'd think he's done this before. Mans multi-talented). But, there's a point when too much care becomes too much, taking care of your looks alone is not enough. Your health is PARAMOUNT to this man. Looks fade, but your health should not. He'd be a little strict on your diet. He'd frequently take blood, urine, and stool samples (and of course he does it for you, don't fuss, he will do it with force if he has to no matter how gross it is for the both of you) to monitor every part of your body. Depending on your family's history and genetics, he'd constantly test for anything that you may inherit that could harm you. Yes that includes your usual checkups like you would at your doctor. He is your personal doctor too at this point. It's not like you have insurance in Nueva York 2099, a whole foreign universe.

God another gross thought I have to put out there is that he used to watch you use the restroom until you convince him to just stand outside. He justifies that bathroom related accidents are more common than you think. 💀🤢🤮 (He does NOT have a piss and poop kink he's just WEIRD)

As for usual yandere behaviors, he'd obviously won't let you go outside of the house. If he has you in an actual house with a backyard, that's where you get your sunlight, but if he has you in an apartment, then the shielded off balcony and sunroof will suffice. For vitamin D purposes. Otherwise, he makes you take supplements if you are deficient.

The only thing, and I do mean only, he asks of you is to give him babies. Pregnancy and birthing are huge huge risks depending on your constitution. I imagine Miguel messing with your DNA so you can safely deliver him babies. (Or for you kinky folks, he'd rewrite DNA somehow to make your milk jugs overflowing with milk constantly)

Taking care of you is something that of a ritual for him. Something he looks forward coming home to doing, despite the countless responsibilties he has in the Spider Society. He'd actually get so upset if you took care of yourself without him. If the whole canon events theory he has is debunked, I imagine he retires and full sends in taking care of you 24/7 in every hour of the day. He already relays more tasks to Jess, Peter, and other Spiders than usual, so he can be home with you more.

With all the cooking, cleaning, and self care routine being completely done by Miguel, you basically can do everything else you want, within Miguel's reason. Only safe hobbies, like drawing, reading, shopping, watching TV, etc. He still monitors when he can, especially shopping, since he is watchful of where his money moves, but to also see if you're purchasing anything that could hurt yourself. He hopes that whenever he can, he could join you in your hobbies. He particularly enjoys dressing you up in his favorite outfits on you. He'll see a style online he wants you to try and spin his own twist to it. You'd be his little fashion model. He'd also definitely have photoshoots just for you. You also love dressing him up as well and making him join in on the photoshoots.

I feel like I have a few more unnerving ideas about my version of yandere!Miguel, but I'm stopping right here cuz its 2 am and I can't think anymore. Till next time. (I'll write an actual fic I swear I will!)

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Tags: @belle-oftheball34, @mrs-oharaxx, @sukunash0e, @miguelswifey04, @wreakingmarveloushavok, @ghostofwinter, @crystalcrynight (LET ME KNOW IF I MISS TAGGING YOU OR WANT TO BE TAGGED FOR FUTURE WRITINGS)

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Tension

Tea Type: Subtly Sweet Tea

Potential Triggers: Nothing comes to mind, but let me know if you think something should go here!

Pairing: Vax/F!Reader (Can be read as romantic or platonic!)

Length: 2.2k+

Summary: Vax's observant nature helps him discover you're hiding a few juicy secrets, and he helps encourage you to be more honest in the future.

A/N: So, new fandom, who dis? Yes, I'm now binging Critical Role Campaign 1, and completely whipped for Vax and Percy both. I'm up to the beginning of Episode 40, so no spoilers please but I have quite a few tword fic ideas. Also, I know Silence doesn't work in DND like this, but shhh fic liberties-

Vax was what many would call observant. Used to lingering in the shadows as he was, he found it almost comforting to look over his friends and family both if they lingered where he could see them. He sipped on his ale, watching as you chatted with Vex and Keyleth about something or other. Percy was tinkering with his machine’s as usual, paying the conversations around him no mind, and Scanlan had found himself a friend for the night. Grog had no such luck but he was no less happy to be enjoying ale by the mug full. Pike had also retired early, claiming tiredness and needing to work in a quiet environment unlike Percy. Vax himself was situated just by the bar, debating if teasing Percy or his sister would be more fun when he spotted something interesting. 

You’d quirked up and seemed to be waving your hands in a sheepish refusal. He couldn’t hear it from here what about, and opted to drift closer, expertly maneuvering the crowds of dwarves before he leaned against the wall by the stairs. 

“Really Grog, I appreciate the offer but it already feels better, I promise!”

“Do you doubt Grog’s masseuse skills?”

Vax felt a smile twitch at his lips, eyes narrowing perceptively as you refused again.

“Not at all! All the others rave about how great they are, I just genuinely don’t need one. It was just a spasm! Besides, Percy looks way more tense than I do, look at how the poor guy is hunched over!”

Grog lit up at that and grinned, whacking you on the shoulder cheerfully before moving to attend to Percy. 

“Grog can help with that! Great idea!”

You let out a sigh the moment the goliath turned his back to you, after ensuring the others were occupied. Vex had gone with Keyleth to grab more drinks and they were talking to the bartender, and you didn’t spot him, all but melded into the shadow of the stairs as he was. He saw the way you rolled not one, but both of your shoulders and winced, fingers pressing into and attempting to release the tension stored there.

He smirked darkly.

You were a clever little thing, weren’t you? Redirecting Grog, lying so he wouldn’t worry, feigning. You had a secret and if there was one thing Vax enjoyed? It was finding out that which should not be known. 

…and maybe punishing you, just a little, in the process for trying to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t and being a naughty little liar. He'd warned you before, as had the others, it wasn't his fault you didn't listen. You had a nasty habit of trying to take on everyone else's burdens while denying your own. 

He figured you’d be retreating to your room sooner rather than later and after a gentle tap and a whisper to Vex telling her not to wait up, he found himself surprised as his sister grabbed his wrist before he could slip away. 

“Take care of her, will you? She’s been rubbing her shoulder anytime she thinks we’re not watching. If you hadn’t come over, I was going to press the issue. Shall I inform Pike?”

He cleared his throat in embarrassment, smiling sheepishly. Of course his sister had seen right through him, and you both. 

“Aye. You know I will. I’ll tell her, depending on how bad it is.” 

His eyes moved from her to where you were watching Percy try to escape Grog with fondness in your eyes. 

“...I have a feeling there’s a reason she’s dodging Grog’s attempts. Something she’s flustered about, if I had to guess.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as his mischievous eyes returned to his sister’s. 

“A shame, that. For her I mean.”

Vex’s look turned scolding. 

“Try and go easy on her, brother.”

He shrugged, amusement flooding him.

“Depends how quickly she folds, I suppose. If she’s stubborn, even I can't help but have a limit to my patience, you know. Besides, she may even enjoy my methods of persuasion. You certainly did~”

A flash of teeth and he dodged her playful slap with a laugh as she blushed. 

“Shut up, Vax! Honestly, I asked once, why can’t you just let it go?”

“Are you actually whining? Heh, does Percy know? Maybe I should-”

Vax couldn’t dodge fast enough this time as Vex tugged him down to hiss in his ear. 

“Breathe a word and Trinket will have your head.”

“Alright, alright, you win! Always so violent to your dear brother aren’t you?”

He brushed off his clothes before looking back over towards you. 

“Alright, I’m off. Wish me luck, hm? And be a dear and cast Silence for me, won’t you?”

Vex’ahlia sighed and with a moment of focus and a mumble it was done. 

“Doing that for her, not you!”

Was called after but Vax waved her off. 

Now all he had to do was hang out; he was sure you’d follow shortly. 

------

You cracked your neck and barely stifled a wince as your shoulder seized again. You hadn’t injured it, but thanks to holding all of your tension in them, and your neck; you were really feeling the effects. 

You felt bad redirecting Grog like that, but you’d seen the way Percy had grasped his shoulder too, and knew he wouldn’t crumple like you would. Lesser of two evils. He gave in eventually, and lucky for him, he probably wasn’t in pain anymore. It was early in the night, but you bid your remaining party goodnight and retired to your room. You jumped at the sight of Vax on your bed before relaxing, rolling your eyes. 

“You could’ve asked and I would’ve just given you the key to my room you know.”

He shot a boyish grin your way. 

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it’s good practice for my fingers. Got to keep them loose and limber, you know.”

“Mmhmm.”

You brushed him off as you flitted about your room and got changed for the night behind the folding screen. It had been a pleasant surprise the inn had one as many didn’t. 

You emerged in your nightgown and crossed your arms as you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“So…what’s up? Did you need something?”

He pretended to be stabbed in overdramatic fashion.

“Oh, you wound me! Can’t I come check on my favorite party member without ulterior motives?”

“Sure, you can and have before. But you’re typically chatty, and occasionally tipsy. You seem barely buzzed and you’ve been oddly quiet for you in general, let alone if this was one of your typical calls. You can tell me if I’m wrong but…I don’t like that look in your eye.”

He smiled, and moved to sit up from where he’d been laying on your bed, tossing his dagger carelessly. He placed it on the bedside table. He was already changed, you noted. In black two piece pajamas, and you’d spotted his black robe behind the curtain. Was he planning on staying overnight? You didn’t mind, of course but again…this was too meticulous. He was planning something, you just weren’t sure what. 

“What look might that be, darling?”

You hesitated and then swallowed, something giddy and nervous at once stirring in you as you felt heat in your cheeks and it made you look away. 

“Anticipation. You look not unlike the cat who got the cream. You almost look…predatory, if I had to pick the right word.”

“How frightening~ It’s nothing so serious as all that! “

He moved to stand and you stood your ground as he approached you, finally returning your gaze to his hazel eyes.

“How’re your shoulders?”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and he felt the way you tensed, racking your brain for an excuse. 

“Oh, you heard my conversation with Grog earlier, huh? Like I said, it was just a spasm. I’m fine now-”

His smile widened a tad and then he squeezed, with just the right amount of pressure to get the reaction he guessed at. 

“For reheHEal!” 

You tried to play it off as a cough, bending over and shoving at him to try to get him to release you. He did, backing up a step or two as he observed you. 

“Sorry about that. Worst time to get a cough.”

You mustered an apologetic smile, shaky though it was and Vax let his eyes narrow. 

“...Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re lying again? This is starting to become quite the habit. C’mon, lemme see.”

The expression you made was priceless but Vax kept his unamused expression as he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you over to the bed, gently sitting you down and then looking at you expectantly. Poor thing. You were clearly having an inner debate in your mind over what to do. Shame he wouldn't give you any more time. He motioned to the bed as he moved to stand. 

“Well? Go on, lay down. Let me see how bad it is.”

“It’s really nothing Vax, I swear! Just drop it!”

“Oh right, because you jolting like a scared gob’ was so subtle. If there’s truly nothing wrong then let me see.”

Gods he was such an asshole. Why did your reactions have to be so damn entertaining? …Still, he was absolutely going to Hell for leading you on like this. 

You reluctantly laid down face down and he situated himself at your hips, ensuring you weren’t in pain before continuing. 

“Alright, now you better tell me if anything hurts. I’ll know if you lie again. Got it?”

You nodded and he couldn’t help his smirk now that you couldn't see him, though his voice kept that concerned, slightly hard edge as he dug into your shoulders at once. 

You damn near about seized and your hand rushed to cover your mouth.

“Did that hurt?”

You shook your head and he growled. 

“You must really think I’m blind or something! You can’t even talk!”

Oh, yeah. Definitely going to Hell. 

Now that he was feeling your shoulders, though, it was obvious you had a lot of tension. No wonder you’d been rubbing them earlier. He let his thumbs do most of the work digging in and though he heard you squeak, now and again, every time he asked if you were in pain you denied. It was when his index and middle finger found a knot of tension on the cusp of your neck and shoulder that you finally broke, and tried to reach back to tap his leg, laughing. 

“Fhuhuhuck Vax please! It doesn’t huhuhurt it-it thihihihihckles!!” 

He giggled himself and stopped for a moment to crack his fingers before he answered, all casual nonchalance. 

“About time you admitted it.”

You whimpered in embarrassment and he would bet money you were beyond grateful he couldn't see your expression as you hid your face in your pillow. 

“You knew?! Why didn’t you say anything then!?”

“As payback. For lying, both to Grog and most especially, to me. Next time, tell the truth and I won’t have to be so…”

He spidered fingertips over your shoulders to hear you laugh before pulling back again. 

“Willfully ignorant.”

You groaned. 

“You’re the worst.”

“I hope you know I’ve just started. All joking aside, your shoulder and neck are wrecked, love. Ticklish or not, you’ll feel leagues better if I work these out.”

“You can’t!”

Your instant response gave him pause. 

“What are you so worried about? Surely you must know I’d never judge you for something as paltry as being ticklish.”

“It’s…not that. Gods, Vax, I swear if you tell anyone else-”

You whirled to look at him and he met your eyes unflinchingly. 

“I won’t. I swear it.”

You hesitated and then hid your face again after deeming him to be telling the truth.

“I…I don’t entirely hate it. Truth be told, it’s the opposite. I really…enjoy it.” 

He couldn’t help snickering, but he was quick to clarify at how silent you got, to reassure you. 

“I-hehe. Oh, shit. I’m not laughing at you. I promise. Just, oh Lord, give me a second.”

He finally collected himself, running a hand through his hair and sighed.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that. It’s too cute for me not to laugh. If you ever want to be tickled you know all you have to do is ask.”

“You say that like it’s easy but-”

“But you’d prefer to be a brat to get me to tickle you instead because it’s easier, hm? In character for you. I’m fine with that. For now.”

“For now?”

“Yes. For now. If you keep hiding things from us for what you believe is our benefit, and putting yourself down- now I have the perfect way to punish you. Maybe then the lesson will stick that you are anything but less than.”

“Vax…”

He brushed off the vulnerability with ease, returning to his playful affect, as if he hadn't said anything.  

“As I said for tonight, however, I’m more than happy to put you in your place when you act up but…”

You squeaked as he dragged his index finger down your spine, making you shiver. 

“There’s still the matter of all this tension you’re holding. Do I have your permission to deal with it, even if it tickles?”

“Mm…mmhmm.”

“Heh. Good. I’m not going to go easy on you now that I know you like this, I hope you know.”

He leaned down to blow air into your ear before whispering. 

“We’ve got quite a lot of lost time to make up for~”

Proud | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: Back in Small Heath, Arthur's struggling with his old habits that he's fought so hard to push away. Thankfully, he's got his wife alongside him, who lets him know that she's still proud of the man he is.

Warnings: langauge, drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence (typical to series), mentions of character death/season 4 spoilers

Word Count: 2615

A/N: I really liked how this one turned out...I feel like this specific storyline with Arthur could have been explored a lot more in the show, especially with how his thought process went. Enjoy! :)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!

———

Arthur never thought that he'd step foot in the old home on Watery Lane in Small Heath. He thought that once the family business had gone legal and made money that he could leave the dirty streets and smoke-filled air behind for a better life. But a bloody vendetta had dragged them back.

Arthur found himself on a path to a better life after he was released from prison; where he was just moments away from having his life ended by a hangman's noose. He returned to the home out in the country, the one that (Y/N) managed to purchase with the money that Tommy eventually gave to her from the Russian deal, and decided that he'd live a better life.

Of course, Ada had to bring the money to her because his wife had refused to go anywhere near the very man that put her husband in prison. But buying the house for her family was the top priority when she did get the lump sum of bill notes.

In the months after Arthur's return, he and (Y/N) managed to build a thriving vegetable garden and chicken coop, both of which he loved visiting daily with their three year old son, William. It was nice to feel connected with nature, and, in a way, it brought Arthur back to his stripped back roots.

He'd also stepped away from his vices. No longer did he need the crutch of cocaine or alcohol. He still smoked a cigar here or there, but he found now that he could willingly make the choice not to use and then live with that decision.

But now that he'd stepped back into the city where his 'old self' thrived, he was afraid that he would slip backwards. To add on top of that, his brother, John, had been murdered: the first death and the start of the vendetta.

Arthur was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands when he heard light footsteps behind him. He didn't move until he felt a hand as it was gently placed on his shoulder. This made him lift his head slightly from where it was resting against his palms.

"Hey," (Y/N) said softly as she looked down at her husband. "Are you ok?" Arthur didn't answer her verbally, but instead, shook his head ever so slightly. (Y/N) caught his response though. She then removed her hand from his shoulder and went to sit on the couch next to the chair he was occupying. They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke up again: "Billy's down for a nap," she informed him, trying to think of something to talk about. She thought that doing so would maybe help Arthur to clear his mind.

"That's good," Arthur answered her, his voice raspy from the crying he'd been doing earlier. He hated that it showed, because he never wanted (Y/N) to see him cry. To see him break down. Especially since he was supposed to 've moved past that. He was a better version of himself now.

"Are you ok?" (Y/N) asked again, making it known to Arthur now that he wasn't going to be able to get away from the question so easily.

"I'm worried, (Y/N)," he sighed, deciding that it'd be easier to just come clean about what was on his mind rather than avoid it.

"About what?" she asked, her brows furrowing slightly. She had some ideas of what might be on his mind, but she wanted him to express them in his own words.

"Bein' back here. I..." he trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat and making him pause, "I was doin' good back home...not drinkin' or doin' snow, and now that I'm back here, I'm afraid that I'll slip backwards," he tried so hard to articulate his thoughts to her before ending his statement with a long sigh. I must sound so weak, he thought as he shook his head. They were back in Small Heath with the possibility of death lurking around every corner. He was supposed to be the protector of the family, but yet here he was; feeling lost and helpless.

(Y/N) frowned slightly when she heard what was eating at him. She hated that he thought this way. That just because he was back in this hell hole, he'd devolve back into his old self. This wasn't her thinking that his 'old self' was anything bad though. She still loved him back then, regardless of what he was into. Now though, he was an all around better person. He was thinking more clearly and making better decisions. What partner wouldn't want the person they're with to be the best version of themselves?

But she had to let him know that she was there for him. That she'd still be in his corner regardless of what happened...because she would. "You're going to be fine, Arthur," she reassured him, "just because we're back in Small Heath doesn't mean that you'll go back to your old ways. I have confidence that you won't..." she takes a pause, standing up and stepping closer to where he was sitting so that she could set her hand on his shoulder again. "You're a better man now, and you can do this."

Arthur turned slightly in the chair he was on so that his eyes could meet (Y/N)'s. He sent her a smile; the expression conveying what he wasn’t able to say with words.

"I'll be here for you, Arthur. We'll get through this together," she told him, squeezing his shoulder as she tried to hold back her tears. She hated seeing him like this, but she knew that he'd be able to persevere.

——

No more than four days later, Arthur trudged back into his office at one of the Shelby owned factories covered in red paint. He walked past the few workers that stayed back while the rest of the lines had gone on strike and gave no acknowledgement to their bewildered gazes. Of course, they didn't question why he was covered in paint. They knew better than to do so. Nobody in Small Heath ever questioned the Shelbys, no matter what they looked like, or appeared to be doing.

Once he was in his office, he glanced around the room, grumbling to himself when he found nothing that would allow him to wipe the red color off of his body. He settled with using his peaked cap to try and get as much of it off of his face as he could before he walked over to the chair behind the desk and slumped down into it.

He didn't think that he'd be killing two people and putting their bodies in the furnaces used at the factory today, but here he was. It should have been expected though. The Italians were closing in. They'd strike whenever they thought any member of the Shelby family was off their guard...just like they did with John. And Arthur's been off his guard since he came back to this god-forsaken city.

But he still knew what to do. Even though he was in a constant state of stress, he still knew when to turn everything off in order to focus on survival when doing so became important.

After sitting in the office chair for who knows how long, he found himself starting to shake involuntarily. He knew this feeling all too well. He was coming off of the adrenaline. It was during these times that he was at his weakest; when he would resort back to his old devices. Now, more than anything, he needed to be at home...with (Y/N). So he pulled himself off of the chair and began walking out of the office and factory with his home on Watery Lane being the destination.

—

The house was quiet when he returned, but Arthur was still buzzing. The overwhelming feeling was getting to be too much to bear. He needed something to get himself away from it at that moment, and (Y/N) wasn't home.

His eyes settled on the very thing he'd been trying to stay away from since he arrived back in Small Heath. The glass bottles half-filled with alcohol were sitting proudly on the mantle of the fireplace, practically calling for Arthur to come over and open them.

He held his breath for a moment, contemplating if he was really going to act on what his mind was telling him to do. He felt like he was spinning out, and he needed a release. A way out of his mind; a way to feel nothing, even if just for a few moments.

And after an internal self-deliberation that lasted a few minutes, Arthur was walking over to the mantle. His hands had minds of their own as he opened the bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount into one of the glasses sitting on the tray. He tipped that back before pouring another and repeating the motions. It was after he slammed the glass down a third time that he decided to just take the now almost empty bottle to the chair with him. He sipped some more as he stared blankly into the flames of the fire, the thoughts of his earlier actions starting to dwindle as the amber-colored liquid made its way through his system.

Arthur sat in that same position for a good bit of time before the door to the house opened. He was so beside himself that he didn't even bother to look over and see who it was. He also didn't bother to move the now empty bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the table beside him.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows as her eyes became fixed on the body, which she knew to be Arthur's, slumped down in one of the armchairs. "Arthur?" she called out to him as she took a few steps towards him. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. His eyelids looked heavy and his hair was disheveled. "Arthur, are you ok?" she asked with a slight bit of worry in her words as she closed the distance between them.

"I'm ok, but I...I slipped, (Y/N)," he somehow managed to make a coherent sentence, only stumbling over his words once.

"You slipped?" she was slightly confused by his choice of words, "slipped as in you fell, or..."

"Slipped as in I drank," he finished the sentence for her. "Two men came to the factory...they tried to kill me, but they weren't able to. I...I came home and you weren't here so I grabbed the whiskey and I...slipped," his sentence came out in fragments as he recounted the events that had occurred earlier in the day.

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped slightly as she heard what he had to say. She let out a sigh of relief at hearing the full story of what had brought him to this point. "I'm happy that you're ok, Arthur, and I'm sorry that I wasn't here when you came back. Lizzie needed some help at the shop sorting out...it doesn't matter what she needed help with, what matters is that you're ok," she stopped herself from giving out the full details behind the reason why she was away from the house. She looked over to him then, watching as he lifted his head slightly to look at her.

"I'm not...I'm not ok, though, (Y/N)..." he trailed off then, shaking his head slightly, "I slipped. I said I wouldn't touch the drink again, and now here I am...I'm barely makin' sense cuz I've just drank half a bottle of it," he muttered the second half of his sentence, disappointment for what he'd done seeping into his words.

(Y/N) held his gaze before a knowing expression formed on her face. "You're able to admit that you've slipped though, and that’s the hardest part," she tried to offer him some words of encouragement. She could already see that he was beating himself up over his decisions. This wasn't her place to add more fuel to the fire.

"You know what, Arthur...I'm so proud of you," she continued then, her words catching him off guard and making his eyes snap back up to hers, "I know it's hard to get past these rough days, but you're trying your damnedest to do so, and you're doing so well, baby. You’ve been super hard on yourself for many different reasons, but I still want you to know that I'm proud of you," she ended her heartfelt statement by looking him right in the eyes, showing him that she meant every word that she'd just uttered.

“You don’t need to say that, (Y/N),” Arthur shook his head, not wanting her to give him pity simply because of the state that she found him in.

“I’m not sayin’ it cuz I need to. I’m sayin’ it cuz I want to,” she clarified, putting emphasis on her word change, “and I want you to know how much I love you, and I want you to know how brave you are for goin’ out and showin’ your face after everything that’s happened these past few weeks. To go out there and still show yourself as a commanding figure within the community even though you’re broken and hurting inside is not easy to do. That takes a lot of courage, Arthur, and I’m so proud of you for doing it as effortlessly, and selflessly as you are,” she continued to shower him in love, knowing that that was what he needed most at the moment.

“I...” Arthur was able to get out before he choked on his words, a lump forming in the back of his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, love...” he trailed off again, laughing slightly through the tears that had rolled down his cheek, “I’m speechless.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at him. “How ‘bout we go have a bath and then go to bed?” she suggested, “Billy’s at Polly’s. She wanted to have him for the night as a way to take her mind off of the stress of it all,” she continued, her hand falling onto his forearm then.

“I suppose that’s a good idea,” Arthur nodded his head after he took a few seconds to think her words over. (Y/N) simply smiled as she took hold of his hand so that she could help him up out of his seat.

Instead of going right for the steps once he was standing, she held him in her arms for a few moments. “I love you, Arthur,” she told him, her eyes hooked onto his.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he repeated the sentiment, moving in to press a kiss to her lips.

“I’m proud of you,” she repeated her words of praise as she pulled back from him slightly, “this moment does not define who you are right now, or who you will be in the future. Please remember that,,” she reminded him.

Arthur smiled against her lips as he heard her uplifting words. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips to hers one more time before they both headed for the steps.

Getting through these next few days, or weeks, or months, or however long it was going to take to end the vendetta, would not be easy, but Arthur knew that he had someone in his corner. And that was enough for him.

———

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @evita-shelby @julkaamazing @lilyrachelcassidy

MASTERLIST

I was thinking about how after Casita fell, we got to see Julieta's fear when Mirabel disappeared, and her relief when she comes back, including their sweet hug... That being said, she's Agustín's kid too, and I wanted to see his reaction to his baby's reappearance. This is that scene.

Dedicated to @magicalmadrigals who keeps us so well fed with fluff, and I thought deserved some in return.

Word Count: 1400 and some change.

*****

Agustín couldn't remember the last time he had one of his daughters in his bed.  The older they became, the less they sought the comfort of their parents' room.

Isabela was always too fussy about her pillows, and Luisa needed her special double-length bed to even begin to be comfortable, so he supposed it was just a matter of growing up.

But now that the family was crammed into his small family home, Mirabel being in bed beside him was less about a little kid wanting their parents, and more out of necessity, since there wasn't another room.

Still… after the day they'd had, Agustín was more than thrilled to have her close by and in sight.

He glanced to his right, peering over the rims of his glasses to see Mirabel snuggled into the pillows, nose buried deeply in a book she'd found on his old shelf.

It was surreal, being in his childhood bedroom again.  It had been nearly twenty five years since he'd left it, and he never thought he'd return - much less with his entire family in tow.

Unfortunately, now that Casita was more a pile of rubble, rather than a house, they would have to make do.  For awhile, at least.

"I read that book a lot when I was your age,"  Agustín said offhandedly, picking at a small hole in the quilt.

"Yeah?"  Mirabel licked her finger and turned the page, clearly more interested in the words in front of her than holding a conversation.

Still, Agustín wanted to hear her voice.

"Mhm.  I'm almost surprised it's still in one piece, I read it so many times."

Mirabel didn't respond, her eyes flitting across the page in rapid fashion, she was devouring the novel in record time.

Agustín stared ahead, looking around the room.  Not much had changed since he was her age… the same books on the shelves, the same drawings tacked to the walls.  Had the wallpaper always been that ugly?

He didn't know where Julieta had wandered off to, but he was getting tired and hoped she'd be back soon so they could blow the candles out and go to sleep.

The day had been unbelievably long, spending every waking moment (and there were many of them - they'd barely slept a wink the night before) hunting high and low for Mirabel.

Now that she was found, safe and sound beside him, he knew he'd sleep like the dead and wouldn't wake even if a train crashed through the window.

He twiddled his thumbs, trying to find something to keep his mind occupied until his wife returned, and Mirabel finally tore her eyes away from the novel, lowering it into her lap.

"Are you alright, Papi?"

"Wonderful,"  he said.  "Why do you ask?"

"You're acting funny,"  Mirabel said.  "Very… fidgety."

"I'm always acting funny,"  he said, with a wink.  "Just ask your mother."

Mirabel chewed on the inside of her cheek, a horrible habit she'd had since she was a toddler.  She didn't look convinced.

"Why, are you okay?"

Mirabel closed the book and laid it on the nightstand opposite of where he sat.  "I'm sorry, Pa."

Well that wasn't what he'd expected to hear.

"Sorry?"

Before he knew what was happening, Mirabel threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck.  "I'm so, so sorry."

"Mirabel, you didn't do anything wrong.  Nothing that happened was your fau-"

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Agustín let out a breathy laugh. "Well, that you did do."  He squeezed her, while she clamored into his lap.  "Scared me a lot, actually."

"I know,"  Mirabel nuzzled her face further into his shoulder.  "I didn't mean to, I promise… I was just so upset."

"Shh, I know,"  Agustín ran a gentle hand up and down her back.  He could hear a tightness in her voice, and he hated when his children cried.  There had been far too many tears shed in the last few days.

The last few weeks, really.  Even before Antonio's birthday, tensions had been high.

"It's alright, amor.  Everything is okay now."

Mirabel moved her head, although he wasn't sure if she was nodding, or using his shirt as a tissue.  He supposed it didn't matter.

They sat there for awhile, just clinging to each other, processing the emotions the last couple of days had brought forward.

He hadn't mentioned it to anyone - not even Julieta - but for a brief time, when they couldn't find Mirabel, he wondered if he'd ever get to hug her like this again.

It was a horrible thought, but one that made him press a hand to the back of her head as he snuggled her closer against his chest.

"You know,"  Agustín began slowly, continuing to rub her back as he spoke.  "Even though you scared the absolute hell out of me-"

He smiled when he heard Mirabel giggle at that.  He didn't curse often in front of the kids, but he knew it always amused them when he did.  "Even though you scared me, I'm still very, very proud of you."

Mirabel pulled back and looked at him through watery eyes, her glasses slightly foggy.  "Really?"

"Extremely."  He removed the glasses from her face and wiped them with his shirt, before placing them gently back on her nose.  "You stood up for yourself.  It was overdue, honestly."

Mirabel wiped her eye with a knuckle, leaning back on her knees.  "I don't like fighting with Abuela but…"

Agustín sighed.  "It was a long time coming.  I lost my temper with her too."

Mirabel stared at him.  "You're the most patient person I know!"

"Even the most patient people have their limits,"  Agustín pressed a kiss to her forehead, a sad smile on his face.  "I think we've all reached our limits this week."

Mirabel nodded.

"That being said, while I am extremely, extremely proud of you,"  Agustín leaned back against the pillows, Mirabel curling into his side like she had when she was much smaller.  "Please never scare me like that again.  My hair is gray enough, thank you very much."  He accentuated his point by running a hand through it, making it stick out on one side.

Mirabel snorted.  "Got it."

They quieted again, and for a time all that was heard was the sound of Mirabel's sisters snoring through the wall.

"It will all work out, I promise,"  Agustín said, a firm hand on her shoulder.  "It'll take time, but everything will settle down eventually.  We'll rebuild the house, finally get you your own room-"

"Ooh, can I pick the color?"  Mirabel perked up at the thought, a brightness to her eyes that had been lacking lately.

Agustín chuckled.  "Any color of the rainbow, amor."  He placed a kiss on the top of her head.  "But I'm serious.  Soon enough, no one will even remember any of this."

Mirabel laughed.  "I have a hard time believing that… but I will say, it'll be nice not to have to listen to Isa and Lu snore all night."

"I'll have you know, you snore too."  Agustín brushed his nose against his daughter's, eliciting a small giggle.

Just then, the door pushed open to reveal Julieta, with a tray and three steaming mugs on it.

"What's so funny?"  She asked, sidling up to the bed and sitting on the edge.

"Papi says I snore,"  Mirabel said.

"He's right,"  Julieta agreed.  "But you get it from him."

Agustín threw his hand over his heart, aghast.  "I would never."

"Why do you think I drink so much coffee in the morning?"  Julieta teased, handing each of them a mug of warm tea.  "It's impossible to sleep with you in the room.  Now with both of you in my bed, it's going to be doubly impossible."

Mirabel laughed again, blowing on the cup.  She settled comfortably between them, nestled deeply in the pillows against the headboard.

They stayed up just long enough to finish their tea, chatting about what color Mirabel was going to paint her new bedroom.

(It seemed she was taking up his offer to paint it any color of the rainbow… and was choosing all of them.)

But it wasn't long before Agustín was blowing out the candle on his nightstand, looking over at his wife and daughter, both sound asleep beside him.

Yes, he thought as he pulled the blankets higher over their shoulders.  He might not have remembered the last time one of his children shared his bed, but he certainly wouldn't forget this one any time soon.

Can you please give us some HCs about Evelyn :) Like her quirks, likes, dislikes, hobbies, habits, facts about her, etc.

General Evelyn Headcanons

(A/N: I have been waiting waiting for this request! I realize I haven't given much detail on Evelyn but I did that because it's her story yes but because Levi is the way he is he's taken it over. So I'll also categorize each of these so I can do each one on the list! (I don't have a faceclaim to put with this for Evelyn tho bc I'm not an artist so sorry about that. Unless someone wants to slide in the inbox for a more detailed description 0_0 jk jk)

WARNINGS: None, she is literally perfection and doesn't deserve Levi's ass but I love causing her trauma

===========================================

Likes ->

It's been lowkey mentioned before but Evelyn is a big reader, Hange introduced her to it and now they give each other book recs.(Hange always insists on recommending smut to piss off Levi)

Girlie is an autumn enthusiast, even though Levi thinks of her as his spring (yes it's a Fruits Basket reference don't @ me) Pumpkins, cozy blankets, leaf crunching, the whole nine yards. She would be that friend if camera's were more available to use bedsheets and take pictures as ghosts

Avid music and dancing fan, obviously the only music they have is classical and Levi taught her how to dance which is what they used to do until the wedding

More often than not she'll grab the paper from Levi in the morning and look at local death cases and try and figure out who did it before reading the full story, although she's stopped since Levi deemed it "unladylike"

The staff that do talk to her recently started teaching her to bake, although unfortunately Levi was the recipient of some failed attempts.

In the winters she occupies her time crocheting, she can only make blankets, scarves and mittens but hey, Levi now has an endless supply

Hange used to be (and still kinda is) her best friend, I didn't show it much because the series is supposed to be about her and Levi not her and Hange but they were besties for a long time

She hates to admit it but baths with Levi is actually very relaxing, he's warm and it's nice to be up against his chest like that

Dislikes ->

Levi lmao (obvious answer)

She's honestly and truly afraid of the dark, she's younger than Levi but not that much younger and she's still afraid of the dark. Shadows coming in the night scare her so in those moments she (unwillingly) clings to him. Although part of her wonders if he drapes clothes and things a certain way to look like shapes

She hates hot weather, she's not in love with the whole sundress without panties summer vibe, too hot and sticky

Cooking is her worst enemy, baking is fun enough but cooking will be the death of her

Erwin (again obviously)

The Survey Corps uniforms, who the hell designed the white pants in mind come on

Hobbies ->

As mentioned so I'll just go over quick, reading, baking, crocheting :)

Habits & Quirks ->

She's a habitual sleep without panties and just a shirt person, everything else is too warm and annoying, tibbies free to the wind

While cooking is the bane of her existence, she is a firm believer of fuck around and find out there, making amalgamations of food when she cooked for herself

Designated mom friend, she makes herself (before with Levi but now herself) the one who makes sure the underage Scouts don't get ahold of booze and make a fool out of everyone

She'll keep you in check but if you do get in a bind she'll walk you home and hold your hair back to puke

She enjoys having her hair played with so she'll sit for hours and let whoever wants to braid her hair or do funky styles, she just likes the physical touch of it

No matter what she does she's cold as hell, Levi keeps the home scorching hot so she's comfortable, he'd rather go around shirtless than have her freeze

Fun Facts ->

For fun she let Hange use bleach on her hair and now she highlights it when she can, Levi still lets her since he's learned how to do it and it makes her hair interesting

Levi cuts her hair, he already does his own so he's learned how to cut her curly hair

She keeps her hair in pin curls, which isn't usually the style for the officer's wives since they're usually older

Levi used to bring her flowers randomly to woo her but she's just come to like getting them

One time she wore one of Levi's shirts to bake as an act of revenge if it got stained but when he got home and saw her the idea of her wearing his clothes was so hot he encourages her to wear them all the time

Airbenders

let’s all take a moment to appreciate our windy boy🙌

based on this request: Can you do Aang x airbender reader? When Aang and Katara found out that she hid from them that she could bend ? Please!

warnings: aangsty

It hurts.

Aang’s body felt like it was on fire, and he supposed it was. It seemed like electricity was still flowing through his veins, consuming him with needle points and flame. With Katara’s healing he was slowly gaining back his memory - visions of white glow, of the royal siblings, of waves, and of falling. There was something else, too, it was-

“Ow!”

Katara grimaced, removing her hands from his back. “Sorry, Aang. There’s a lot of energy built up in here.”

He winced, curling in on himself. “It’s ok.”

She stares at him worriedly, heart aching for her friend. He felt so awful, so consumed by guilt and failure, and she found herself having trouble coaxing him out of his thoughts. There was one person that could, but they were nowhere to be found. Aang noticed.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Katara breathed shakily, pulling at the edge of her tunic. “Aang…what exactly do you remember from Ba Sing Se?”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows. "I remember Azula, and I remember I went down. You saved me."

She nodded. "Is that all?"

He leaned into the bed, running a hand through his hair (hair? how long has that been there?). "There's something else."

Katara looked nervous, as if preparing for him to do something awful. It made him confused. He searched his mind, digging through flashes of memory until he found what he was looking for. He inhaled sharply. Oh. Right.

They were outnumbered, Dai Lee agents advancing on them from all directions. Katara's water whips were no use, broken and splashed across the ground by shields of rock and crystal. Aang fought tirelessly, earth and water spinning around him in a flurry of movement. The earth benders only moved forward - creeping slowly upon the Avatar until they were thrown back by some powerful force. Wind. Aang looked down at his hands, he hadn't done that, right? The agents rose to their feet but their eyes weren't on him, rather on something that lurked behind. Turning, his gaze fell upon what had drawn their attention.

You.

Your arms were outstretched, an uncertain expression on your face. You glanced down at your palms in surprise - you certainly hadn't expected that to work so well. His mouth fell open, mind swarmed with confusion. His grey eyes widened, and your gaze met his. You couldn't tell if that look in his eyes was one of betrayal or pure shock, but you felt the guilt you'd been harboring over keeping this secret hit you full-force. Your own eyes were surprised, and they softened as they fell upon him. In them he could see the swimming emotions, and an apology. You raised your arms again.

"They're...they're an Airbender."

Katara looked at the floor, silently affirming his words. He stared at her, then he stood. His body ached and his legs wobbled, but he didn't care. He grabbed his staff, and leaning on it, began to make his way towards the door.

"Wait, Aang," Katara exclaimed, attempting to calm him. The look on his face was foreign; eyes glinting with sadness and something she couldn't quite decipher. And anger. It was a rare emotion to see displayed by the boy, but it was there now, although faint. She was nervous for you, her own anger since passed and replaced with a sort of resigned understanding. Sure, she was upset, hurt that you didn't trust her with this secret, but she guessed she understood. At least she tried to.

"Aang, your injuries are still healing. You can't-"

"I'm fine, Katara," he spoke, and she felt a chill run through her bones at the sternness. "Let me go."

He pushed past her, holding in his groans at the effort. He walked as quickly as he could down the hall, mind pulsing with adrenaline and determination. He didn't have to ask where your room was, he knew where it would be: at the end of the hall by the windows, so you could see the ocean. He limped his way down, the silk robe threatening to fall off his shoulders. In front of your door, he stopped. He breathed, and then he entered.

You were seated on your bed, staring blankly at the wall. You glanced tiredly at the intrusion, eyes widening when you saw it was him. You stood abruptly, almost tripping over yourself and if the circumstances were different he would've laughed. You missed his laugh. Instead he gazed at you, expression neutral. You felt nervous, unfamiliarly awkward under the Avatar's stare.

"Hi, Aang."

He kept his eyes trained on you, eyebrows furrowed. He was silent.

"Um...h-how are you feeling?"

"You didn't come to see me."

Your eyes widened. "W-what?"

His gaze never faltered. "You didn't come to check on me."

"Oh," You breathed, casting your eyes to the floor. "I didn't...I didn't know if you'd want me to."

He didn't speak, and you could feel him scrutinizing you. As if he didn't know what to make of you, as if he wasn't sure what to think. And in all honesty he probably didn't. You didn't know what to think of yourself, either.

"You're an Airbender." It wasn't a question, just a statement. An observation.

You breathed. "Yeah."

He stood a little taller, and you could finally make out an emotion. Anger. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than him acting as if you were Koh the freaking Face-Stealer. His voice was low. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You swallowed nervously, fingers coming to play with the fishing-line bracelet he'd made for you that rested upon your wrist. "I don't know."

He scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. Well, as well as he could considering his condition. "That's not an answer. How could you keep that from me?!" There was a desperation to his tone, and his eyes were glassy. You looked away, unable to deal with the shame.

"Aang, please, I-" You didn't know what to say. You truly didn't quite understand why you'd hidden it, the secrecy just fading into habit. "I was...I was scared. I didn't know what to say or- I'd never told anyone before! And then you came and I..."

"And you didn't tell me."

His face was darkened, so different from that sunshiney demeanor that you'd grown so goddam fond of. But behind his anger was a certain brokenness - a disbelief. And that hurt more than the rage.

He didn't give you time for an explanation, and you weren't sure you had one to offer anyway. He simply walked away, sparing you one more hurtful glance. Then, he left, taking the light and hope with him. You felt tears sting your eyes, but you forced them away. You didn't deserve to cry. You were the one who'd hurt him, who'd betrayed his trust. And now you weren't sure if your best friend would ever trust you again, ever allow you a second chance. So, instead of crying, you simply laid in the dark warmness of your bed, rocked to sleep by the swaying of the ocean with an ache in your chest.

///

A week.

That's how long it'd been since the two of you talked, since Aang had so much as glanced in the direction of his best friend. You were in the Firenation now, having assumed the role of undercover criminals. It was kind of exhilarating, and you knew you and Aang would be milking the drama of it for all its worth. But instead you sat alone, sidled in the corner of the cave as your friends danced.

Aang had somehow managed to enroll himself in a Fire Nation school, and had invited his classmates to your hideout for a dance party. You wished you had enough energy to participate - to twirl around with Katara or do the limbo with Sokka, but you were drained. Just like you'd been for days. Your hope was waning; you were becoming less and less sure that Aang would find a way to forgive you - that he would return to his best friend with that lopsided smile and endless generosity, the way he came to you all those times before. Now, he was dancing, shoulders brushing against that Fire Nation girl's - On ji? Something like that - while the rest of the kids laughed and cheered. It send an ache to your heart. He seemed happy with her - happier than he's been with you. He was sporting that contagious grin, that boisterous laughter, that-

"Wow, you really are mopey."

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Toph. "I'm not mopey," you grumbled.

She snorted. "Uh, yeah you are. I can practically feel the pitifulness radiating off you."

"Gee, thanks a lot."

You were silent for a moment, and she seemed to soften. "You know, he's not mad at you anymore."

You glanced over, a scoff escaping your lips. "Yes he is, Toph. He hates me."

Her eye-roll was about the biggest you'd ever seen. "Don't be stupid, Sap. That kid loves you. It's so obvious it's gross."

You sighed, shaking your head. You pulled your knees to your chest. "Not anymore. I lied to him."

She nodded, seeming thoughtful. "Well, yeah, that kind of sucked. And obviously he would be kinda mad about that. But he's not anymore, trust me. I can feel it."

"You can feel it?"

"Mhm. He's mopey, too. He misses you."

You looked over to the center of the cave, where Aang was demonstrating some bizarre dance movement. You smiled fondly.

"Seriously, Y/n. You should talk to him."

You nodded, breathing in your resolve. "I will soon."

Toph groaned loudly. "Well, I guess that's as good as we're gonna get."

///

Spirits, you were exhausted. A day of cleaning out a river will do that to you.

It'd been a few days since the dance party, and your time had been occupied with Appa's "sickness" while you stopped at a local fishing village. It was pretty gross, but with your friend's help and Katara's fancy costume, you were able to leave it better than it was when you arrived.

Now, you found yourselves at yet another designated campsite - a patch of ground near the cliffside, overlooking the valley. You were tired, and so much as walking around felt like a chore.

Your eyes fell on a silhouetted figure perched on the edge of the cliff. Momo sat on his shoulder. You breathed, body growing alight with nervousness. You made your way over, Momo launching onto you when you got closer.

You chuckled, petting his furry head. "Hey, Momo," you said softly. You eyes flickered upwards, latching onto Aang's. He turned away. You sighed, setting Momo down and moving to sit next to him. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for impending rejection. You fidgeted with the edge of your shirt - a movement that his eyes quickly locked onto.

"Um, I know you probably don't want to talk to me, and that's ok, but I need to...I need to explain myself."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him nod slowly.

"My whole life I had to keep my bending a secret, and nobody's ever known except my parents. And when I met you...I don't know. I guess I was just scared. I thought I was going to be the last one for the rest of my life. I'd been hiding and denying that I was an Airbender for so long, and I guess I just...felt safer to keep doing that."

He was silent, staring at you intently with concentration and an emotion you couldn't decipher. You continued.

"The point is, I should've told you. And I'm so, so sorry that I didn't. I don't know if you could ever forgive me, but I-"

You were cut off by the press of his lips against your own. Your eyes widened, and you sat rigidly still. He chuckled breathily at your shock, moving his hand to gently caress your cheek. You relaxed, leaning into his palm and letting your eyes fall shut. After a moment, he pulled away.

"I'm not mad at you, Y/n."

You were still frozen with pleasant surprise. "Oh...ok."

He laughed, reaching to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled adoringly.

"But wait - how aren't you mad? I kept this a secret from you, and I-"

"Well, I was mad," he cut you off. "But I'm not anymore. If there's anything that we can take away from this, it's that you're not the last Airbender. And neither am I."

You smiled at that. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

He pulled you into his side, keeping one arm around you while he performed random tricks; like making a whirlpool or air or sending a small tornado Sokka's way. You leaned into each other to muffle your giggles when he fell. You felt happier than you had since Ba Sing Se - filled with the happiness that only Aang could provide you. You had his trust, and his guidance, and you weren't alone. Neither of you were.

False Love-

Rating: ❌ 18+, Explicit ❌

Pairing- Timeskip! Yandere Oikawa Tooru x fem reader

Word count- 1.8 K

Warnings- Aphrodisiacs, fingering, dub-con, vaginal sex, Oikawa is delusional and sad.

A/n: This is my fic for the Valentine's day Collab that @ultimate-astridwriting hosted. I hope I was able to live up to their expectations (ᗒᗩᗕ).

Roaming around the busy streets of Palermo, ginormous heart shaped props occupying the narrow lane paints Oikawa's vision in scarlet. Love is in the air, as they say, was quite literally true for the beautiful city of Argentina.

In the midst of giggling couples and warm twinkling lights, the annoyed click of his tongue gets drowned out; Unnoticed ;making him recognise his own solitude.

Normally he'd have hoards of girls vying for his attention, trying to take him to their place but maybe it was because of his age, or the mountain of experience with the momentary flings that made him want to search for something deeper.

He used to be fine with superficiality of his relationships, the repeated cycle of getting himself off of any faceless women who came onto him then forgetting her existence the next day was fulfilling in itself. Afterall, his career has always taken priority.

Though the last remaining brain cells of his body tries to rationalise the situation he is getting himself in, Oikawa had already decided what kind of connection he wanted and and was just going to let himself have that. Selfishness is not something he ever disliked anyway.

He felt no need to hide his disdain, Oikawa wasn't one to be subtle about his pettiness either, that's why the contrasting emotions of his own, clashing with the jubilant ones of his surrounding annoyed him to no end.

The chocolates wrapped up neatly in his hand felt heavy, causing his fingers to tremble slightly. It wasn't the weight of the box but what he intended to do with the said item that made his insides twist with excitement.

Yes. It was excitement. Happiness and pure bliss that he felt when he rang the doorbell of your modest appartment in the costal side of the city. Despite having the sea right next to your place, the cold February air still made you shiver as you opened the door to see Oikawa standing at your doorsteps, all smiles with a dash of extra in his typical 'hand on the hip' pose.

Surprised wouldn't even being to describe your current state of shock. You spend the next few seconds just starting at his ever confident form before his voice brings you back to your senses.

" Yooohooo~ babe, I'm sure I don't look 'that' good. I just finished with practice so my hair's probably a mess right now", he continued on with his cheery tone,

" Come on, It's not like you have anyone else to spend Valentine's with, so why not just let me in already and look", dangling the expensive looking bag in front of your eyes, his expression took on a slightly sinister turn in their features, the kind that went away as soon as they appeared not leaving any trace of its original condescending vibes.

" I made these chocolates for you", emphasizing on the made part he stares right into your eyes, as if waiting for his well earned praise. Heaving a sigh of defeat you release the door know you didn't knew you had in a death grip, opening the door completely in a gesture to usher him inside.

Oikawa quickly makes himself at home, plopping down on your couch with his long legs stretched.

This was the first time you had seen him after the rejection of the high in demand position of his girlfriend. The face he made when you turned him down was of utter disbelief so much so that you almost reconsidered your decision. But you weren't that wishy washy in your opinions and his was a type you made sure to ignore.

You were aware of his salty personality and the habit of holding grudges, so you thought after that fateful day he'd ignore you like the plague, but for all his arrogance Oikawa's face was the epitome of gleeful.

" Soooo", starting off with an awkward note you casually try to sit on the furthest arm chair from the couch Oikawa was currently occupying and tried to ask what exactly was he expecting out of his current visit but he quickly cut you off by his own booming voice.

" Before all that, why don't you try these?", Pointing to the chocolates he starts unwrapping them, as he pulls the decorative ribbon, two rows of brown, heart shaped delicacies appeared.

"Don't be shy, I made these for you afterall", he remarked, pushing the box on your side of the table.

You didn't think much of it, afterall, 'making' chocolates just means buying store bought ones and just melting them into different shapes right?

Popping one small cube in your mouth you let it dissolve, your taste buds filling up with the sweetness of the treat. Just as it finished you heard Oikawa speak again.

"You probably know why I'm here, but I'll tell you again", readjusting his posture, he sits straight, both the look in his eyes and tone taking a more serious turn.

" I thought about why turned me down that day and I finally realised......You were just scared weren't you?", rather than upset he sounded relieved as he continued with self assuredness ,

" Of commitment? Or because of my job? Either way I can already assure you that I was already prepared to put you above everything else if the situation calls for it".

You were just sitting, listening to his outrageous conclusions when you felt your heartbeat increase. The sweaty palms of your hand to the moistness in your core, your entire body started reacting in ways you'd never experience before.

"You thought that I'd keep our relationship on the back burner and only focus on my career? You were just lonely weren't you?", With every passing second his delusional words seemed to work with more and more intensity that didn't helped your hyperventilating state at all.

"And you rejected me because you didn't wanted to have an absent boyfriend right? So in reality-", by the time he finished he was already in front of you, the fire in the depths of your core made your mind hazy and eyes unfocused. You wanted to ask what was happening or what he put in those chocolates but forming any coherent words was a feat on its own in your current condition.

He smoothly takes one of your burning hand in his cool ones, the contact making you instantly lean onto him for more. You're sitting in a daze when he pulls you up from the arm chair and places you on his lap back on the longer couch.

In your already aroused state, the soft strokes of Oikawa's fingers on your scalp made you succumb further into the need for release as you sit on his lap with your head resting against his shoulder. The room was now quite safe for his soothing voice that came from right about your head.

"You love me right?", the words that come out of his mouth in the heated moment betrayed all his attempts at feigned composure. He may have spiked the chocolates with some sort of aphrodisiacs but the way your heart hurted after hearing this made it seem more like a love potion.

With his barely audible voice they sounded almost like a plea, another desperate measure to get what he wanted.

Before you could even notice, your vision tilts and you find yourself pinned to the couch, with Oikawa hovering right above you. His hands on your sweatpants, lowering them all the way to your ankles. And the weirdest thing?

You didn't wanted him to stop.

Not when he spread you out completely in front of him. Not when he was shamelessly staring at your naked pussy with a maniacal glint in his eyes and definitely not when he shoved two of his thick digits up your leaking pussy that covered his entire palm in your slick at the slightest of contact.

Your soft walls clenching around his fingers was all he needed before he stared unzipping his own pants. He gazed at your panting body while he pulled his cock out, flipping you on your stomach with your ass up and face shoved down.

You barely cared about anything but getting fucked good at this point when you heard some rumbling behind you, as soon as Oikawa was done putting on a condom he lined himself up against your entrance.

Not wasting any more time he slips past your folds until he is buried to the hilt. The feeling of being stretched out and filled to the brim coaxed out a few lewd moans from your mouth.

Your slick was enough to make Oikawa pick up a hard and fast pace, your entire body shook with every thrust of his. He kept his hands on your waist, pushing himself as deep as he can before pulling out until only the tip remains. Your own orgasm started building up with his every action.

His member throbbed against your insides and the moans that slipped past his gritted teeth indicated he already came but his cock showed no signs of softening as he kept going with his brutal pace.

You bury your head sideways, tongue lolling out and covering the fabric beneath it in your drool as Oikawa lodges his cock further into your pussy from behind. He moves in and out of you with ease, the slick from both your pussy and his previous release was more than enough to keep his memeber going.

Gripping your ass cheek in one hand, he trails his other one in between your thighs. Quickly his digits grazes your clit, the pressure they added along with the heavy thrusts pulled you closer to the edge. The anticipation of your impending release was all your lust laden head could think about the feeling of ecstasy that you desperately needed.

The intensity of your orgasm made your eyes roll back, and if it wasn't him holding you firmly in place, you probably would've fell down the couch. With your entire body shaking your panted heavily from your mouth to calm yourself.

Oikawa doesn't make any attempt to pull out or move and even after your breathing becomes even his member is still lodged deep inside you. He gently starts gyrating his hips against your pussy again and it becomes obvious that you weren't the only one under the effects of aphrodisiacs.

As cum trickles down your inner thighs, all you could decipher was the overwhelming bolts of pleasure Oikawa's cock provided and the sounds of your skin smacking against eachother's.

With his hands on both of your sides, he lowers himself down until your back was flush against his toned chest, his raspy voice rumbled through your ear as he spoke in a dark possessive tone,

"Don't forget..... we are in love"

OC Study

Tagged by @advena87 to fill out -THIS- OC question prompt.

I tag @starsandskies @1orweth @kanawolf

This is time consuming so I can understand if you guys don't want to do it, so no pressure. I spent roughly a week and a half, almost two weeks on this? No regrets, mostly took so long for me because I work full time and I tend to space out a lot and ramble. Lol

It is quite a bit of fun and a good exercise to help develop your characters so I do recommend It! Don't recommend doing more than three OCs at a time though, three was hard for me and usually I'm an over-achiever. Go easy and dont burn yourself out! Also would be a good exercise if you're writing with a canon character and want to get a handle on working with them.

I wanted to answer this in character originally but it would have been twice as long and probably taken me a month or more. 😅 Perhaps I'll do something like that one day....

Dragon Age OCs per usual for me.

Warden-Commander and Hero of Fereldan (DAO & DAOA)

Growing up in the Denerim Alienage has made Feiell a very bitter, angry, and agressive person. Biting and scrabbling to survive she also had to fight to keep her family and neighbors safe from the rich humans that liked to exploit the destitute elves. She gained a reputation as a protector but also a very hard woman.

She redibly accepted her conscription into the Grey Wardens, not only to escape the persecution of the law, but also to escape the narrow world of the Alianage. Collecting the people that would later be affectionately called "The Blight Brigade" exposed her to many new adventures as well as lifelong friendships, love, and personal growth that could not have happened otherwise.

The Champion of Kirkwall (DA2)

Laid-back, vain, and honestly somewhat lazy, Aiden has never wanted to be anyone's savior let alone a whole city's. Family has been the only thing that mattered in his life and after his father's death, he naturally took on the role of protector and main provider for his mother and siblings. This also made it very natural to take in the stray band of misfits that became almost like family and also why it is so natural for Aiden to constantly help people, even at times he would rather not.

His bleeding heart drags Aiden into the center of conflict far more often than he likes and he constantly berates himself for it. This automatic altruism has jaded him which fuels his sarcastic and sometimes bitter, self-deprecating humor. A tad over dramatic at times means that while he rarely, it ever, says no to aiding someone in need, it certainly doesn't mean he has to be quiet about it either.

The Inqusitor (DAI)

Max has been fortunate for most of his life, from growing up in the wealthy Trevelyan family, to his good looks and, quiet frankly, fantastic smile it's easy to assume he'd be another spoiled rich brat. You'd be giving in to a stereotype that doesn't, quiet, fit him though. From a young age Max has always been outgoing and adventurous which made him a handful to raise. His father frequently grappled with finding things to keep his youngest son occupied in ways that he hadn't had to do with his previous three children.

Born with a naturally sharp mind and quick wit, Max picks up new concepts quickly and with ease. Which means he often grew board with tutors, burned through the family library in a handful of years, quickly became very competent on horseback as well as the breeding and rearing of them (part of the family business), and often terrorized his siblings as well as the hired staff. Once he exhausted most of the interesting things at home he started running off to search for new adventures. Boredom and frequent arguments with his father often lead to habitual bouts of running away from home. Hence where Max got to truly learn about the world and open his eyes to the kind of privilege he's been so lucky to be born with. Unfortunately this also has ingrained his habit of running away from problems he doesn't see a forward solution to. (*cough*theinqusiton*cough*)

OC Study

Featuring:

Warden-Commander Feiell “Fe" Tabris

Champion of Kirkwall Aiden Hawke

Inquisitor Maxwell “Max" Trevelyan

1. Is your OC easily bothered by things?

Feiell – Small things don’t really bother her but she is a tad hot-headed so if you give her a hard time you might not be in for the best experience. She also has zero tolerance for idiots or assholes.

Aiden – He’s a petty bitch that mostly whines and complains to annoy his friends. Also whining about petty things is a good cover for the bigger worries and anxieties he hides underneath.

Max – Mostly an easygoing, carefree type. It takes the numerous responsibilities of the Inquisition weighing down on him all at once before he starts cracking.

2. How easily does your OC make friends?

Feiell – Most defiantly not a people person. Her natural stoic demure and biting sarcasm keeps people at bay. You have to spend quite a bit of time around her before she warms up to you.

Aiden – For reasons he doesn’t really understand people like Aiden. It’s probably his easy smile and sense of humor which he uses to get what he wants or needs out of them. Not really manipulative just doesn’t feel like he deserves the attention. The humor mostly hides his pain and keeps people at arms length, mostly unintentionally. He hates to burden those he loves.

Max – Max loves people, mostly entertaining, or teasing them. His signature charming smile and good looks usually put people at ease which makes him very likable. It also lets him get away with the mischief he often gets into.

3. Does your OC go beyond what they have to do or do they usually do just enough work to get by?

Feiell – Has almost literally killed herself to get where she is. Her work ethic is legendary and she’ll do almost anything to support her family and friends.

Aiden – Will do the barest minimum to get by. Her lazy as hell, even though he is incapable of saying no when someone needs help.

Max – Believes in doing things right the first time and if not the first time then defiantly the second time. Whatever the job needs to get done he willing to do and if it’s a favorite project he can lose himself in it indefinitely.

4. Is your OC respectful of others?

Feiell – She will be as respectful to you as you are to her, but will out match you if you’re a dick to her or her friends.

Aiden – Respectful enough to not cause trouble and get people to leave him alone.

Max – Perfect manners, and ridiculously charming. He believes everyone deserves respect unless they prove otherwise.

5. Is your OC imaginative or more down-to-earth?

Feiell – Defiantly no-nonsense and down-to-earth. She believes in hard work to active your goals.

Aiden – More of a day-dreamer but pulls a practical side together to care for and help family and friends. Dreams are nice but plans put food on the table.

Max – Total idealist, truly believes even the most impossible is attainable if you work at it long enough. Most of that idealistic optimism is broken after Trespasser, but that’s a long story.

6. Is your OC comfortable with themselves?

Feiell – She’s always been comfortable with who she is and has never felt any shame for it. She owes that to her parents and cousin.

Aiden – Feels like a constant failure and a burden despite how hard he tries not to. Doesn’t feel comfortable with opening up about his feelings and weighing others down with them. Is also terrible with expressing more painful emotions.

Max – Is mostly comfortable with himself. Always felt like a disappointment to his family because he never had the kind of goals for his life he thought they would want from him. Also never really saw himself as reliable but the Inquisition changed all that.

7. Does your OC plan things and stick to it or do they make it up as their go?

Feiell – Always has a plan and is a master of adjusting things on the fly if needed. Prefers to stick to the plan but has accepted how rarely that can happen.

Aiden – He’s been winging his whole life and it somehow hasn’t killed him yet.

Max – Usually has more of an outline than a hard plan. Trial & error are his best friends and somehow he’s still alive, that’s probably because he uses educated guesses more that throwing things to the wind.

8. Was their life eventful before the start of the story, or was it more dull?

Feiell – Depends if living in poverty and oppression is dull to you. I guess since it was normal for her it was boring.

Aiden – The stress of hiding a mage father and sister was more than Aiden ever wanted. He would have preferred boring.

Max – While the constant mischief Max got himself into means things were never dull they certainly seem boring when compared to life in the Inquisition. Josephine certainly had her hands full going through all of Max’s past exploits.

9. Do they have the habit to insult other people?

Feiell – Is a salty, little bitch so defiantly yes. She has a sharp tongue.

Aiden – Bit of a smart-ass and occasionally he can’t help it so it gets him in trouble.

Max – Mostly no, it takes quite a bit to get on his nerves enough to make him snap at you. Usually very polite.

10. Would your OC be described as “the life of the party”?

Feiell – She can be described as the death of the party.

Aiden – Likes to think he is.

Max – Is the actual life of the party if he wants to be. Usually he is.

11. Are they critical of others?

Feiell – To a degree, yes

Aiden - Mostly critical of himself

Max – Not really, he’s pretty non-judgmental

12. Do they like art? what is their favorite type (paintings, songs, fashion, etc)?

Feiell – The art of war perhaps, but music is good too.

Aiden – He considers Fenris a work of art if that counts.

Max – Paintings, music, nature, pretty clothes (mostly on Dorian), Max loves it all. He was especially fond of watching Solar paint his murals.

13. Are they more accepting or more controlling of the people in their life?

Feiell – As long as you’re not bothering her and no one gets hurt she doesn’t really care what people do.

Aiden – He has no control over his own life let alone any one else.

Max – Very accepting of people but not above a subtle nudge to do things he feels might benefit them.

14. Is your OC a good listener?

Feiell – She listens more than she talks, so yes.

Aiden – The one who’s always there to listen when you need him.

Max - Yes, he also has a great memory so he's very good at keeping track of all the drama in life. Lol

15. Are they opinionated or more willing to change their minds?

Feiell – Pretty opinionated but not impossible to change her mind, not that it is easy to do so mind you.

Aiden – Too changeable at times and mostly keeps his opinions to himself.

Max – A few solid moral opinions that he won’t move on but open-minded on nearly everything else.

16. Are they the kind of person who’s always on the defensive?

Feiell – Much less than she use to be but definitely yes.

Aiden – Only when he feels blamed for everything, which he is often.

Max – No, he dose his best to own up to his mistakes and rarely takes things personally.

17. Do people like hanging around them? do they have a positive, friendly energy?

Feiell – I will file this under HELL NO. She scares the crap out of most people if she doesn’t piss them off. It can take quite awhile for friends to warm up to her, if at all.

Aiden – People love Aiden, but the older he gets the less Aiden likes people. They demand too much from him but he’ll never be able to say no, or miss a chance at a passive-aggressive joke. Or a regular bad joke for that matter.

Max – People love Max almost from the moment they meet him. There is just something about him that puts everyone at ease and makes it easier to trust and smile. Must be the charming smile, yeah, has to be. He’s not bad looking either.

18. Is your OC a procrastinator? if they are, what’s an example of how much?

Feiell – People die if she puts things off, so no. Some days she wishes she could put many things off though. Like dying anytime soon, there’s too much to accomplish.

Aiden – What is productivity? If nobody is dying or it’s not dragging him, kicking and screaming, by the hair then its probably not getting done. At least no time soon. Guilt trip him hard to speed things up.

Max – Important things get done but if it’s not a pressing issue then it often can be temporarily abandoned for more enjoyable activities. Even if it’s set aside, the thing will still be done in a reasonable amount of time. Unless he forgets, which can happen frequently.

19. Do they tend to panic in certain situations or are they more calm?

Feiell – Always calm, if something bothers her you’ll never know.

Aiden – Panics constantly. Somewhat hides it well…somewhat…

Max – Takes most things in stride, the sudden dump of responsibility and people’s lives was really stressful but he adjusted to it.

20. Are they vengeful?

Feiell – I literally made a post of her being a deity of vengeance lol.

Aiden – Petty or bitter, perhaps, but not full on vengeful.

Max – Yes, touch the people he loves and see a whole different side of him.

21. What are some skills your OC has a talent for and what are some that they worked for?

Feiell – She’s has a natural flair for swordsmanship, her mother started training her and Fe kept up the practice even after her mother’s passing. Her leadership skills were…a little more rough. She had to learn how to organize and lead people on the fly because of the Blight but luckily she learns quickly.

Aiden – He’s scary good at lying, not even Varric can catch him in one. (Honestly most of his book is just Varric's best guess on Aiden's thoughts) Knife throwing took quite a bit of practice though. He can now nail someone at 100 pages and is unmatched at darts.

Max – Politics and navigating the Great Game are weirdly natural for Max even though he kinda hates it. His archery skill is something he is extremely proud of because he’s practiced relentlessly to be as good as he is. And he really is good, until a natural like Sera comes and shatters his ego. Lol

22. Are they more socially awkward or socially confident?

Feiell – Awkward, but in the way that she doesn’t care what people do or say. She dose her own thing and ignores everyone else.

Aiden – Smooth on the outside, tired wreak on the inside. Not that anyone will ever know.

Max – Social chameleon, and life of the party. Until he slips away unnoticed somehow.

23. What is something really dumb that irritates your OC a lot?

Feiell – Dumb questions about her hair: “How long is it?”, “Why do you keep it that long?”, “Is it really that red?”. Usually answered with “Why do you care so much, it’s not your hair.” Also people touching her constantly, she doesn’t see the need to constantly clap people on the shoulder or grab their arms when somethings funny.

Aiden – Orlesians, if you don’t know anything about DA then I’m sorry, this probably doesn’t make sense to you.

Max – Assuming he's stupid or that because of his wealth that he doesn't do any work. He's a natural busy-body so assuming he sits on his are all day is really irritating.

24. Do they tend to see the good in people?

Feiell – No, she’s had too many bad experiences before so distrust is her default until proven otherwise.

Aiden – Sometimes, mostly sees people in shades of grey. No one is 100% good or bad.

Max – He sees the good in people as often as he can and tries to pull some good out of those who are sometimes a little lost.

25. What does it take for your OC to trust someone?

Feiell – Doing what you say you will, not hiding things, sticking up for others when it clearly has no benefit for you, and give it a few weeks….or months and she may trust you.

Aiden – Help him out in a hard spot, or help family/friends.

Max – If you’re not openly malicious or he doesn’t feel like you’re lying/hiding anything his default if to trust until proven otherwise.

26. Do they have a lot of mood swings?

Feiell – Not really, she’s not a very emotional person. Unless you count her temper which can light like a matchstick.

Aiden - Known to be moody, to the point of it being a well known joke among friends. On bad days he can even out do Anders.

Max – Only if the stress is overwhelming him or he’s pretty sick. Otherwise he’s pretty even tempered.

27. Do they like to be the center of attention or do they prefer to be in the background?

Feiell – Hates being the center of attention and would rather be left alone. Unfortunately she’s had to get use to the attention after becoming Warden-Commander.

Aiden – If people could forget who he is it would be really nice. Likes being the center of attention among friends and family, doesn’t like it with crowds of strangers.

Max – Loves entertaining people and making them laugh which makes him great for parties. He grew up attending big gatherings and is an expert at navigating them, which means he's also very good at slipping away from them when he tires of the crowds.

28. Do people think they’re pretentious?

Feiell – Sometimes, her natural expression can give that impression but most of those people that make this mistake are racist shems that don’t like the power she has. Or the fact that she could kill them without breaking a sweat.

Aiden – No, his face is too friendly and if that doesn’t do it the self-deprecating jokes do.

Max – Yes, it’s easy for people to assume that since he comes from money. He’s never thought himself better than anyone though and tries to dispel that impression, but you can’t control what people want to think of you.

29. Is your OC detail oriented or do they focus more on the big picture?

Feiell – Details, details, you add them all up and that’s how you get a bigger picture. Other words, very detail oriented.

Aiden – Big picture. How you get there is a mystery though.

Max – Big picture first then an outline of the main details to get there.

30. Which high school movie stereotype would they fit best?

Feiell – The ice queen/The strict, scary teacher.

Aiden – Class clown/Troublemaker/Weird but laid back teacher

Max – The jock that befriends the weird kid/Hot science teacher

31. Are they good giving advice?

Feiell – Defiantly not, she’s better at giving orders.

Aiden – Only ask if you want to get in trouble. Ok, that’s not completely true, occasionally he can give good advice. Particularly to help cheer someone up.

Max – I would say yes, he’s gotten quite a bit of good advice over the years and likes to pass it on.

32. Which one of the 7 deadly sins fit your OC more? do they see it as a flaw?

Feiell – Wrath: Only a flaw if you think beating your enemies is a bad thing.

Aiden - Sloth: Regrets this flaw. If he had acted sooner on many things they might not have escalated the way they did.

Max – Pride: A flaw he has worked hard to temper over the years. Was more of a problem when he was younger than now.

33. Is your OC more likely to keep their feelings to themselves or to share them?

Feiell – Keeps them mostly to herself. A couple close friends may get a glimpse but only Zevran knows her well. He’s learned when to prod to get her to open up.

Aiden – Doesn’t like to burden others so keeps his feelings to himself even when he shouldn’t.

Max – His oldest sister is his best friend and confidant, she gets to hear everything. Max has started to lean on Dorian in this way too. Basically immediate family and good friends will know what’s up.

The One Where Jackie Settles In

Summary: Chapter 3. Jackie gets used to life with Marvin.

Warnings: death mention, violence mention

@bupine @badlypostedeverything

In the minute it takes for Jackie's mind to wake up along with him, he becomes confused as to why his chest is in agony. More confusing than that, he appeared to be in the bedroom of someone's home. In a pile on a bean bag was a pre-arranged outfit for him to wear. Dressed, he ventures to the hallway. And things finally click. Right, he was living with Marvin now. Marvin, who happened to also be Cat. The past 24 hours had been quite eventful. He'd… rather forget it. He requests anything Marvin had on hand. If he was a superhero, surely he was no stranger to injury. Therefore, there must be something lying around to assist with pain management. To his relief, Marvin can indeed help him. In fact, he goes further and offers him whatever is required for his recovery. With the medical care over, Marvin invites his new roommate to help himself to mini Weetabix or bread. Jackie doesn't think he can manage more than a simple buttered slice of toast this morning. The Russian blue missing her front left leg observes them from her shelf. Marvin notices where Jackie's gaze is directed. "Indie's watching us eat, isn't she?" "Yep." Jackie chuckles. "Come face us, you little spy." Marvin turns around in his seat, wearing a mock scowl. "Caoimhe was like that. I couldn't eat anything at home without her staring at me until I gave her a bit of my dinner." Marvin is facing the table again. "Caoimhe?" "Oh um... she was my dog before- before all this." "Is she with friends or something?" "I guess. Them or my dad. It all happened so quickly." Suddenly, stories relating to pets fill the space between toast and soggy cereal. Jackie learns of the time Indie somehow found herself stuck in the space between the television and the wall. Likewise, he tells his friend all about Caoimhe's misadventures as a puppy, including her habit of attempting to snack on his drumsticks. This in turn leads to Jackie confirming that yes, he was a drummer and guitar wasn't his preferred instrument. The two of them chat at the table until Marvin realises in a shock that it was already time for him to get ready for work. Running late slightly, he blurts out his apologises and suggests Jackie finds a DVD to watch while he's alone. Despite how abruptly it had ended, the morning had been an enjoyable one. Joel checks up on them a couple days after the incident with Anti. He raises the issue of Jackie not having any clothes of his own. The Canadian offers to accompany him around the shops, making the point it would be a proper chance to get to know each other. With the promise expenses shouldn't influence decisions, they leave. They manage to collect a variety of tops and jeans. Apparently ripped jeans were fashionable now. Fashion had certainly changed in the past three decades. He and Joel are still able to find items that were close enough to what he used to know. The shops they visit are lacking in leather jackets but Joel is able to offer a black denim one as a compromise. With socks and underwear also in their possession, it was time to move on from clothes shopping. Almost. Doing so as discreetly as he can, Joel mutters quietly to Jackie. "I can see you eyeing the women's section. Why don't you have a look?" "No, it's weird. Trust me, men were not made to wear feminine clothing." "Listen, I have two dads and a diminished sense of gendered clothing. I am the last person who will give a damn about a guy wearing a dress. You have a similar build to my dad so..." Joel approaches the racks, flicking through them. Periodically, he scrutinises Jackie to likely determine if the dress was right for him. The most Jackie lets his new friend buy for him is a skirt that reached his knees. It seems to please him that Jackie allowed him to get even that. He supposes it was a nice garment. And a kind gesture too. With the clothes stuffed into the back seat of Joel's car, the duo return to explore the Tesco Metro. The older of the two triggers a whole conversation about Easter celebrations. Joel talks about the Beaches Easter parade in Toronto while Jackie grumbles about Easter Sunday masses. They both agree there's no such thing as too many Easter eggs. "Hey, you should get a notebook or something. It might help if you have somewhere to put your thoughts about the 21st century." "What, you want me to write you an essay about modern life when I've known nothing else? I'm 20, I was born in... 1999." "It's April so if you want to turn 21 this year, it's 1998." "Wh- 'if I want to turn 21 this year'? Can I please get through the rest of this month without having my life being threatened?" Joel groans. "No, dumbass, it was advice." He leans close to Jackie's ear. "I know about Village Square and how you were born in 1966. I'm sure you want to talk about this further but I don't have anywhere I can really take you to speak privately." "You're psychic?" "No." Joel places his bags down, resigning himself to tackle this subject while standing outside a WHSmiths. "Sure, I can create portals but I'm no mind reader." "Then how-?" "I already told you, this is not a conversation we should have in public." "What about your apartment? You don't live with Marvin and you told me you weren't living on the streets anymore." "In Canada. And I doubt it would be healthy to send you somewhere over 3500 miles away when you sustained a major injury a few days ago. Listen, how about you text- A phone, we need to get you a phone too." "Right." Mobile phones are unrecognisable. How the hell did technology advance to the point where this small slab of glass and alloy was capable of receiving calls? Not to mention the plethora of things it also offered. And controlled by your fingers on top of it all off. Joel reassures him he can take it slow with this technological leap. The main reason he bought it was for communication and it could remain so if he wanted. Jackie supposes the shiny blue back was pretty. It wasn't hard, growing accustomed to life with Marvin. His roommate would sleep in after a long night of patrolling then spend most afternoons working a shift at the local garden centre. In addition to that, Marvin would also don his Magnificent Cat costume twice a week so he could help those still on the streets. Jackie usually sat those out, feeling awkward about his new situation. Marvin was typically the one to cook. As such, Jackie felt it necessary the head of the kitchen should be aware he couldn't have mustard. If the hero could try getting into the habit of checking ingredients and being wary of anything labelled 'spices', he'd be much obliged. Marvin does his best to follow these instructions. It seemed to be working fine as there was yet to be any allergic reactions. At some point during that second week, Marvin invited Jackie to the kitchen. His plan was to bake his favourite cake, one containing chocolate and strawberries. Their joint efforts go well for a short while. Then Jackie gave himself an edible moustache upon stealing the whipped cream from the fridge. Marvin confiscated the can, only to follow suite. By the time the cake was ready to exit the oven, the duo were laughing, in need of a whipped cream restock and a change of clothes. It is after returning from a shift that Marvin introduces Jackie to an unusual pizza crust arrangement. "Pizza Hut have the best stuffed crust though. This is only the best Morrisons has to offer, as far as I've tried it." Marvin continues on, rambling about how, while studying at university, he made it his goal to find the best frozen pizza supermarkets within walking distance of his accommodation had to offer. As such, he had designated this specific pizza as his favourite. Something about the other varieties being too liquidy or whatever. He has no interest in this subject. Pizza was pizza. But... Marvin seemed very engrossed in imparting his findings to him and who was Jackie to stop him? "Oh, tell you who would go with us to Pizza Hut, my friends Henrik and Jameson. Maybe Chase too but he tends to be a rather busy guy. You should meet them. I think you might get on with those guys." Marvin makes a note as a reminder to invite his friends for a meal out. For the time being, that is the end of that. Before long, the Easter weekend arrives and with it, a chance for Jackie to finally meet Sean. It was clear Marvin looked up to his big brother from the way he spoke about him. As far as Jackie was aware, Sean was 9 years older, a video game developer and a reluctant cook, hence why the two roommates were taking care of the big meal. He can certainly see the resemblance between the brothers. Their features were very similar. The main difference between them was hair. While Marvin was clean shaven with waves descending to his shoulders, Sean had stubble and short straight hair. It was pleasant to see them have such a good relationship, complete with teasing and half-serious threats of burning the other if he kept pushing it. Jackie found Sean likeable. The whole meal, they kept themselves occupied with chatter. He learns Sean enjoyed painting in his spare time. In fact, he was creating the backgrounds for his company's new game. It is at this point that Marvin lets him know there was still a blue smudge, albeit slightly faded, on the side of his left hand. The afternoon is a good one but like all things, it comes to an end. Before too long, they are bidding Sean farewell and exchanging comments about the day's success. Night, the stranger found, was the best cover. Some dark clothes to reduce visibility and a hood to better conceal his identity from CCTV cameras. With some silent fiddling, the door grants him entry. He knows precisely which room he has to visit first. His most recent escapee is completely oblivious to the intruder. He could ensure Jackie never woke up with a single touch. But Marvin would discover the truth were that to happen. That method was too obvious. Besides, this wasn't what he was here for. The envelope slips out of his bag. In the morning, Jackie will find the surprise on his bedside table. That done, he moves on to the other bedroom. The hero is still awake, albeit engrossed by his phone's screen. Only now does Anti allow his presence to be sensed. Marvin reacts accordingly by throwing the covers to the side and defensively leaping to his feet. A palm is raised to prevent any provocative action before it could be carried out. The message is delivered. "Back off, Marvin. You should know by now what I'm like when frustrated. Let the next one slide and you won't hear from me for a good while." He looks like a three year old persevering with their poorly thought out argument. He's certainly a 24 year old man in his pyjamas rather than an on duty superhero fully in costume. "I... I can't." "One life for several. Aren't you supposed to be on the better side of the morality spectrum? Surely this is a easy choice." Anti doesn't wait for any potential response from Marvin. The serial killer leaves the way he came. The sun rises and with it, Jackie. Marvin was already awake, cradling an abandoned coffee. He gives his friend little acknowledgement as he enters the kitchen. The piece of paper Jackie is holding, however, gains his attention. Especially when he asks the dreaded question. "Uh, Marv? Do you know anything about this?" It's only a portion of an A4 sheet. A pair of scissors has been used perhaps a third of the way down. The contents is limited to a single typed line which reads: We both know he's no doctor. Maybe you should ask why he hasn't taken you to be treated by professionals. Jackie starts talking as soon as he's sure Marvin has read the message. "I- Listen, I will admit I had wondered why you never sent me to a hospital. But I guess I brushed it off as a secret identity thing. So why didn't-?" "You're new to this city, right?" "Yes." "So you don't know Anti like I do. He likes making a point of finishing what he started. I don't know how the hell he does it. But if he's the one who put you in hospital, the only place you're going after that is the morgue. So forgive me for wanting you still around. And yeah, it's true, I am not a doctor. However, books on human biology and the internet have served me fine. I've had way more injuries than Sean is aware of. Yet here I am, walking around despite the occupational hazards my hobby is littered with." "Marvin-" "If you want me to apologise for prioritising you staying alive, then I'm afraid you're out of luck." The aggression radiating from him remains for several seconds. It dissipates into something softer. "But I am sorry for putting the decision solely in my hands. If that means anything." Jackie lets the air settle between them before answering. "Alright. Listen, I am still upset-" "Fine, then I'll leave for a while." Marvin begins making his way to the shoe pile by the door. "What I was going to say was I'm still upset but I'd rather move on and let bygones be bygones for now. Just promise you won't do something that risky again." He stops completely to face Jackie. "Yes, of course. I promise." "Thank you. And, as a sidenote, if you're going to run from disagreements, at least fix that mess you call your hair. It's horrendous." The sleep deprived hero scoffs, a tiny smile creeping into existence. "Got it."

A lot of people were acquainted with him through his prolific participation in News & Politics, but to me Aaron was always an author, one half of the team behind Hybrid Theory. That fic was a bastion of creativity, drama, and wry humor; a ludicrous and ambitious premise, played gloriously straight. It provided me with much-needed hope and entertainment in years past. His death comes as a punch in the gut, and takes the wind of optimism out of my sails.

I never knew him well, and now I never will. Rest in peace, Aaron. The world is lessened by your absence from it.

-orm Ember

I didn't want to write this. 

Not just for the obvious reasons, that nobody likes to say goodbye to a friend like this. I didn't want to make this about me, because it isn't about me. I wanted to say something about him, to tell his story, to express the tiniest part of the loss I feel in a way others could understand. 

But I came to realise that it wasn't for me to tell his story. I can't. That story was for him to tell, and unfortunately, he cannot. The only story I have to tell is the story of us. So that's what I'll do. 

I met Aaron Peori when we were both new in high school, about twenty-five years ago. Glace Bay High was the tenth of the eleven schools that I attended in my eleven years of schooling, and so by then I was almost as well-practiced in "meet new friends" as I was in "meet the new local pack of bullies". Walking home, I noticed one guy about my age that always walked alone, reading a book. In other words, a fellow nerd, a weirdo, an outcast. Like me. After a couple of days of spotting this lone reading fellow, he happened to be reading a book by Christopher Pike, an author I also had books by. That was, as the saying goes, an opening.

"Hey, isn't that a Christopher Pike book?" I asked this stranger, casually, as if I hadn't already known.

He looked up at me, not even showing any surprise that some weirdo had walked up and asked about the book his nose was in. "Yes," he said, peering at me owlishly from behind his glasses, then after a moment added, "He's a good author."

By the time we reached home that day, we were already good friends. From that point on, in fact, we were virtually inseparable, aided by the fact that he lived almost literally in my backyard.

From the very beginning, we were creative collaborators. At first, we were using GI Joes and a few other toys in elaborate setpiece dioramas that spanned his house's enclosed front porch, and sometimes spilled out to occupy part of the year as well. Factions, sacrifices, betrayals, and no doubt embarassing-in-retrospect dialogue were all a part of those first afternoons and weekends.

I think he first got a copy of the Marvel Super Heroes RPG from his cousin. Before I'd met him, Aaron and his cousin had both been drawing their own comics about a space-based superhero team called Sonis. Now, with a tool that you could use tell stories about superheroes, and rules to arbitrate - our new great dioramas were ones made of words, not toys. I quickly made my own "expanded universe", about a group of mercenary superheroes called Heroes For Hire. 

At that point, what turned out to be a very long-lasting pattern was set. Aaron was the GM, and I was the player. Aaron created the worlds, and I lived the characters in them. He did want me to be the GM sometimes (it's more fun being the player!), but I was always uncomfortably aware how much better at it he was than me, and so I felt intimidated to pit my own lesser stories against the epics he created.

As time went on, another pattern that would be long-lasting emerged: Aaron and I's stories became vastly greater in scope. He rewrote the resolution system of the game to account for much higher power levels than the original design used (Ochre feats!), and eventually we dispensed with the rules altogether, playing completely free-form with no set rules and only the occasional dice roll. I learned to handle multiple characters at once, and bored at the success easily reached by my insanely overpowered characters, learned to find more fun in getting them in trouble instead. Aaron learned to handle the narrative challenges faced by trying to craft stories about protagonists who had literal "I win" powers, and weren't very likeable to boot.

Very little of Heroes For Hire would be something I wouldn't be embarassed to show off today, but my former internet nom de guerre "Blade" comes from the most central and overpowered character of those days.

About a year before I left Cape Breton, Aaron and I discovered two things of lasting consequence: anime, via his having a comic adaptation of the movie "Project A-ko" in his huge box of comics that I would regularly raid, and fanfiction, which I had been introduced to via USENET by another friend of mine, Mark MacIsaac. After I left, Aaron had more free time, and thus he started writing a story that combined two of his favourite things: the then-popular anime Ranma 1/2, and Star Wars. 

Aaron wrote prolifically, longhand on sheaths of paper, in his inscrutable and typo-laden scrawl. My role in those first stories, for all they were credited under both our names, was just to type these up and edit them - but that wasn't a small task, to be fair. I can type 60wpm despite still pecking with two fingers instead of touch-typing, a skill that dates to those early manuscripts. 

That level of collaboration, though, wasn't enough. Soon we took to role-playing games again, and I took on various Ranma characters in lengthy phone conversations where he was once again the DM. Those games formed several of the plots for Ranma: Curse of Darkness, and the entirety of the plot of Kyoto Chronicles (sadly never actually finished), along with other stories both Ranma and non that never made it to the internet. Again, he would write the scripts and I would type them up, now with more creative control and editing. 

The time came when we once again lived in the same city, able to really collaborate with both of us writing scenes. All of this finally culminated in Hybrid Theory, our longer-than-Lord-of-the-Rings magnum opus, and something we were both pretty proud of despite the various flaws and that we totally botched poor Rei's character arc.

After writing something like that, we were sure, it would be easy to write something for professional publication. But unfortunately, it never came to be. Circumstances separated us again, several promising projects got stalled after a few chapters, and then the grinding workload he faced at his job hurt his ability to write consistently.

But Aaron never stopped writing fanfiction. His mind never stopped working. Most of what he wrote was "junk" in his words, and he wouldn't even show it to me, but he was still thinking up stories and worlds and his favourite thing of all: elaborate fight scenes. He once told me he could write in any series, no matter how crappy or derivative, "as long as the main characters can run up walls".

It frustrates me that I cannot prove to anyone here how brilliant Aaron was, because that brilliance was hidden behind the various flaws in his prose style. His prospensity for typos never did much improve, though he could at least spellcheck stuff he wrote on a computer rather than longhand. He never got hung up like me searching for the exact right word, and so he often just used the same words over and over. For those that read his last work, I can only explain that I took out a ton of "snaps" - "snapped her head back", "snapped his wrist forward", "the snake snapped out" and yet there are STILL that many in there. I was going to do a much more thorough editing pass when it was finished. 

But that is all surface-level. Where Aaron excelled was in his vision for a setting and story. He could take the ridiculous and make it somehow sublime - indeed, he often challenged himself with making ridiculous or cliche concepts work. He could keep track of a million dancing pieces and know precisely which should enter the stage, and from where. It's not that I didn't contribute meaningfully to our collaborative efforts, but I often felt like a child with crayons colouring in the lines of a sketch by Da Vinci. Even if my colouring was good, it wasn't the masterpiece.

His players knew, though. Another habit Aaron kept for the rest of his life was GMing (though he enjoyed playing, when the opportunity was afforded to him), even if he couldn't do it as much in recent years. Aaron was a masterful GM, able to coax out strong story arcs and dramatic moments from players of any skill level, able to make NPCs that the players hated or loved or both, able to coax rambunctious player parties into dramatic clashes and events that never felt railroaded. But perhaps even more than that, he was a master of making game rules work for him instead of against him. Aaron loved role playing game rules: one of his primary hobbies and uses of his spare cash was to buy new gamebooks, even if he never planned to use them for a game. He'd devour them, expertly analyse their strengths and flaws, modify and house-rule them to his liking, and even a notoriously tricky game to GM like Exalted flowed smoothly in his hands.

His set of replacement Dragonblooded charms are still the best and most flavourful charmset ever made for them. And he always maintained that the best game system to run Star Wars with was the pulp action game Adventure! - which was the very last game I'd play with him. He was, as always on these matters, completely correct.

In another world, even with the problems we had, I'm sure Aaron could have been a published author. The problem, if problem it was, was that Aaron's prolificness stemmed from his own joy in writing and creating. Ultimately, if he was more interested in writing about a magical self-insert Sakura than he was in something "professional", then that's what he did. He took note of criticism and changed things if he got it, but ultimately the only critic whose opinion he internalised was himself. He wrote because he enjoyed writing. If somebody else enjoyed what he did, great. If nobody did, he'd write anyway.

Aaron and I were so close that my father asked me if we were gay once. We weren't - I'm straight, and he was (unknowingly at the time) asexual. But we loved each other anyway. We had the kind of easy camraderie and understanding where we could nostalge and talk for hours upon hours, week upon week, and never get bored even when we didn't have really anything to talk about. We were never bored of each other's company. From that very first day we met, we understood each other in ways that nobody else ever did, or ever would. I never pictured my life without Aaron in it. I was going to be a writer, I knew at 15 years old, with Aaron. I was going to move back to Canada someday - and live near Aaron. 

There is a hole, and it cannot be filled. It hurts, and it will always hurt. And yet I am greater for having it. It is unthinkable to wish that I didn't have it. My life without Aaron is unthinkable. I'll have to think of it, maybe another day, but not yet.

Aaron's last few years were difficult in some ways. He stuck in a predatory, horrible job that left him perpetually sick and exhausted, the only thing in the 25 years I knew him that actually forced him to stop writing and GMing for any length of time. He was too proud to take help, too tired to look for an alternative. He nearly died of a perforated ulcer a few years ago, and that added "chronic pain" to his ailments, and being him, he would only take painkillers when it became unbearable. It was unsustainable, we knew it, but he was always reaching for that promotion that would finally bring the shorter hours he had been asking for. In the meantime, he'd always say "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." I wish he had been right.

And yet.

In those same years, Aaron discovered himself. He discovered that he wasn't the strange not-wanting-sex freak he had grown up thinking he was, that there were many people like him out there. He got in touch with the emotions he had suppressed within himself due to a traumatic childhood experience, and while he sometimes had difficulty handling his newfound sadness (he was striken by grief like I'd never seen over the death of his grandfather) or anger (political topics were verboten in our conversations over the last few years), I believe that for all the pain and overwork and lack of creative output he was still in some ways never happier than he was these last few years.

He told me once that he wanted to find a partner of either gender, who didn't need or didn't want sex, but could be with him and hold him close when he needed it. I cried, and told him I knew he could find someone once he was out of that job. He deserved it. He deserved that happiness too.

This forum (although not solely) had a lot to do with him discovering himself, and that is why I felt I had to post about him here. You meant more to him than you know, and to some of you, though I don't know your names, I owe a debt I can never repay. Whoever you are, thank you so much. You helped him in a way I couldn't. The joy and hope of his last years came from the help you gave him.

And that's the end of the story of us. Aaron was exhausted, pushing himself beyond what he ever should have - now, at least, he can rest. Aaron was in pain, but now the pain is gone. There was nothing good or right or kind or acceptable about it, but it can't be changed, it can't be helped. 

Goodbye, Aaron. I love you. Thank you for writing stories with me.

-Chris Mcneil addressing sufficient velocity forums