#it’s definitely not the same as being fucking burned alive at a work function but i do live in a right to work state
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maybe paige’s god’s name should be vaughan, since one could make the argument that vaughan was the seed of the wound tree
#or maybe more like paige’s losing vaughan Like That#was the seed#the silt verses spoilers#silt verses spoilers#i have a lot of feelings about vaughan#do you ever think about the fact that they were so important to both paige and carpenter#but they’ve never talked about them like as far as we know never even spoken their name since they died#vaughan who was so kind so invested in the people around them#so SMART like they got the fuck out of that hogie stand and left the damn country#and then the foreshadowed jaws snapped shut#i’m sure it was all in the contract#i say through clenched teeth#it’s definitely not the same as being fucking burned alive at a work function but i do live in a right to work state#and i used to work at a law firm this so i yeah i read my contract#and if you do you know there could in fact come a day when they decide to make use of you#targeted layoffs to make the numbers go up are like. again preferable to being BURNED ALIVE#but given the choice i would prefer to not face the threat of either of these things actually
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All Too Well
A/N: I’ve had the begging of this story in my drafts for a while, and now I finally took time to finish it. Yay! I hope y’all enjoy, and if you couldn’t already tell, it’s based on All Too Well, the now very iconic Taylor Swift song
Pairing: Gerard x Singer!F!Reader
Word count: 6,155 words
Warnings: Lots of angst, emotions in general, good old swearing. Also loosely proof-read, so keep that in mind.
Men sucked.
It was one of the many lessons you had gathered over your years of being on Earth, and you at this point were on the verge of giving up. Men were just intolerable sometimes, and nasty, and just... ugh. Bad.
Especially... well you hated to say it, but Gerard Way. He was supposed to be the super nice, sweet, nerdy guy, right? Wrong. He was a complete dick.
You guys dated for a year and a half and you swore nearly on your life that he was your soulmate. You loved him with every bone in your being, every breath you took was his. And then he fucking dumped you. Like it was nothing,
You weren’t even sure why, there was absolutely no lead up. You guys hadn’t fought anytime near the breakup, in fact just the week before you had gone out on a date with him at a super nice little romantic restaurant and the entire night was filled with nothing but laughter, smiles, and love.
And then he said he needed to talk to you, so you went over to his place, and well, he ended things. Right then and there. With no explanation whatsoever.
You were so confused that you didn’t filly react until you got back to your place and noticed one of his leather jackets he had left the other night, still hanging on the coat rack. And just like that you broke down sobbing in tears of anguish, agony, and the worst of all: heartbreak.
It wasn’t like inviting your friends over and binging sad romance movies over some ice cream and then burning his shit or covering it in glitter and delivering it back to him would work this time. No, this was a full blown code red. As code red as code red can get.
You were a depressed mess for three weeks not able to function as a human being. You breathed and that was the only thing keeping you alive. You just felt so used and ashamed and confused and unsure. Your entire life and existence for the last year and a half was suddenly meaningless and that was terrifying.
After a good depression slump, you turned to what every world famous singer-songwriter turned to: writing an album.
Which also happened to include a 10 minute song.
A 10 minute song that made it to #1 on the Billboard charts.
And caused your ex to go trough weeks of absolute slander and humiliation on the internet.
Every time you went on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, any social media the exact same thing popped up time and time again: a meme of Gerard with your lyrics along side it, or overall people just criticizing him for specific instances you mentioned in the song. Some of which were exaggerated, if you were being honest.
Everyone knew who he was, not only because of his band, but because he broke your heart. And despite trying to be the better person, you definitely felt a ping of victory in your chest.
Long story short, the album cycle had gone really well. Your tour sold out, the album was doing incredibly well with multiple number one hits, and awards were coming your way left and right. Yet the last thing you expected to see at any awards show was him.
My Chem didn’t do award shows, they just didn’t. So why the actual fuck was he here at an after party? You immediately saw him, and despite the dimly lit nature of the room, you knew it was him. He looked... good, actually.
His hair was a bit more grown out and black, he had lost notable weight, his jaw was suddenly incredibly sharp and noticeable, he was unfairly hot and you hated it at the moment.
“Oh shit.” Your bestfriend, Clara approached you. “It’s him, isn’t hit?”
“Mhm.” You nodded and sighed, “Why is he so hot? Why?”
“We are not going back down that rabbit hole, nu-uh.” She stated, grabbing your arm and pulling you away, “I don’t care how good the dick is, I am not going through another three weeks of you hiding under your covers like a fucking bear in hibernation.”
“It was good.” You mumbled as she pulled your up to the bar, ordering you a rum and Coke.
“C’mon girl, you just won like five awards for an album about how shitty he was! Don’t go back to him.” She sighed, “He was a douche.”
“I know.” You frowned, wanting to add on, ‘but only that once!’ knowing it wouldn’t go over well.
“Besides, I think you got an A+ list fucking hunk of an actor staring right at you.” She smiled, biting her lip and looking over your shoulder. You looked over your own to see him smiling right at you.
“Fuck! That’s the dude in the new super hero movie or whatever I forget which one- but he’s ripped, right?” Clara nodded enthusiastically and you smiled.
“If you wanna get Gerard even more on his nerves,” She began, “Maybe you’ll talk to him. But do the whole flirty thing where ya know, you place your hand on his chest and overly laugh at his jokes.” You nodded with a smirk as you shot down your drink for confidence and walked over to begin talking to the guy.
He was nice, for sure. Definitely nice, but like, no personality whatsoever. His jokes were bad, but you laughed, especially after you got a quick text from Clara notify you that Gerard was in fact staring right at you with a face full of envy. Exactly where you wanted him. Salt in the wound.
After a while, you excused yourself to go to the restroom which really was just an excuse to not talk to him anymore. You quickly glanced at Gerard who was still staring at you and quite aggressively took a sip of his water, which you turned away and smiled to. Hey, he was a dick, you could smile about making him mad.
You wondered to the restroom solely to get away from the unnecessary and annoying conversation. You weren’t really sure where to go next, it was stuffy and hot in there, music growing louder to the point where a scream sounded more like a mumble. So you did what any logical person in your situation would do, went through some back stairs and up to some random rooftop balcony.
You opened the large metal door and took a deep breath as you inhaled the fresh, crisp air of an LA night. You slowly opened your eyes again, after enjoying your mere moment of tranquility, to be met with anything but peace. In fact, you swore you felt your chest actually begin to light into flames and your heart ceasing to beat.
It was him.
He was standing there, leaning on the slim metal railing, a cigarette in his mouth as he slowly inhaled and exhaled again, clearly staring off into the dot pattern of lights a large city like this one had. You hated when he smoked, it was an awful habit and while you knew it was far better than most of his other previous bad habits and addictions, you still didn’t like it in the least.
The door then shut with a subtle ‘bang’, and naturally he turned around. And there you were, your confidence now stripped of you and blown off in the wind of the night. You were a statue, just staring at him. Out of... you weren’t even sure anymore. There was no word for this emotion. At least not one yet.
He did the same. Didn’t really move at all, just stared at you. At least he looked like he was breathing, you definitely weren’t. Your eyes remained wide as his grew heavy and he took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke out of his mouth as it cascaded over his face. “Fancy seeing you here.” He said, only a small smile dancing on the edges of his lips.
You took that as a potential sign of peace, and began walking towards him. It would just be awkward if it was just the two of you up here and you weren’t at least minimally interacting. “I didn’t think you came to these things.” You commented, standing right behind the railing. He hummed, taking the almost nonexistent cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it on the gravel ground, and digging it in with his boot.
“No, not usually.” He sighed, “Label pushed us to, though. We were nominated and all.”
“I thought you guys never listened to your label,” You snorted under your breath, “It’s part of your whole image.”
“Yeah, well, ya know.” He began, “Shit happens.”
The two of you stood there in complete silence just staring into the skyline for probably a minute or two before he spoke up again. “Congrats on the awards.” He stated.
“Thanks.” You replied. Couldn’t have done it without your shitty ass breakup. “Congrats on all your nominations.” He scoffed.
“Nominations are not winning,” He explained, “It’s barely an acknowledgment.”
“Eh, I’ve been nominated for lots of things and not won.” You replied, “Besides, I think you guys should have won at least rock song of the year.”
“Thanks.” He replied, grabbing his pack again out of his pocket.
“I hate when you smoke those.” You commented under your breath.
“I know.” He coyly smiled, placing one in his mouth. “I’m not doing it out of spite, I’m doing it because that’s how addiction works.”
“I think I know how addiction works.” You fired back, eyeing him a bit. Again, it went silent with the tension.
“I saw you with, uh, what’s his face in there?” He began and you scoffed.
“Oh please, what’re you keeping track of every guy I talk to now?”
“No,” He replied, “Just observing.”
“I always hated how snarky you got.” You commented
“I always hated how snarky you got.” He chuckled.
“Oh don’t play the fucking victim.” You warned, “You were the one who broke up with me, remember?”
“Yeah, biggest fucking mistake of my life.” He stated matter of factly. You were processing what out of pocket thing to say next but his words caught up to you faster.
“Huh?” You suddenly asked, your eyes growing wide in shock.
“Yeah, I should’ve never been a complete and utter dick and just dumped you. You were probably one of the best things that ever happened to me, and I just treated you like shit one day and called things off over shit that wasn’t even your fault.” He sighed, “And yes, I definitely deserved a 10 minute break up song about me.”
“It was 25 initially.” You mumbled and he looked over more with a look of concern. “Can I ask you something?” You requested after a few moments of silence.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you break up with me?” You asked and looked over at him. He froze for a moment before taking his cigarette out to elaborate on a large sigh.
“Because I wasn’t myself, and I wasn’t thinking with my head.”
“Huh?” You asked.
“I had gotten back on, ya know, shit, just before the whole thing. And of course I knew you were gonna get on my ass and tell me that I shouldn’t do that shit, so I made the dumb mistake and chose all the fucked shit over you.” He explained, “It was so, so fucking dumb.” You waited a few moments to speak. Maybe out of shock, or just trying to process it.
“Gee,” You replied, waiting a few moments, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. You’re not obligated to. I mean, I can barely if at all justify what I did with that.”
“You were a complete dick.” You stated, looking over at him as he lightly smiled. “But I loved you.”
“You loved me?”
“Yeah, I told you like every day.”
“Did you ever stop loving me?” You took a brief pause, the answering coming way too fast for your comfort. There was a still silence present between the two of you.
“I don’t know.” You whispered, your breath getting lost in the wind. He nodded, placing his head down to stare at the ground.
“I never expected you to come back, a part of me doesn’t want you to. Not because I don’t love you, I still do, but because all the anguish and just torture and hell I put you through. This two year punishment without you has been completely awful, but I know I deserve more of it.”
And you were actually speechless.
You hated the idea that you wanted to give him a second chance. You dreaded the feeling that he was a good guy at heart. You absolutely despised that you loved him, still, after all the shit he drug you through.
So you did what anyone would do: you ran.
You ran as fast as this tight dress and the heels could take you, as fast as your breath would allow, as fast as your heart could beat.
“Where are you going?” He asked, you heard his footsteps behind you as he grabbed onto your arm. It wasn’t a mean grab, more worry and desperation.
You turned your face to look up into those hazels eyes that reflect your own, lighten up by the barely illuminated box light above the door.
“To think.” You replied, your eyes welling in tears as your breath broke. You shook him free of you quickly and ran through the door and down the stairs.
You wanted him to run after you, but you wanted him to just leave you alone. You wanted him to confess his words and trials of love for you, but you wanted him to rot in hell. You wanted to feel his lips against yours again as you had all those times, but you also wanted to never see him ever again.
Your head was spinning as you finally reached the main ballroom again, looking around frantically for anyone you knew. After a minute your eyes just scanned the room and became blurry, unsure of what the image in front of you was, but you were sure it was chaotic and-
“Y/N?” A familiar voice rang through your ears. “Y/N, are you alright?” It became more clear. You turned to your side to see where it came from, a face you hadn’t seen in years.
“Mikey,” You sighed, letting your held breath go, “I um, I-”
“Are you having a panic attack?” He asked frantically, holding both of your arms, “Shit, let’s get you out of here.” He said, beginning to escort you to the back entrance. As soon as you got outside again your brain began collecting itself. “Are you alright?” He asked and you nodded, realizing you fists were curled into the lace of your dress and letting go. “What happened.”
“I- I don’t know, a lot I guess.” You swallowed harshly.
“Do you need to get home? Do you have a driver? Uber?”
“Yeah, I have a driver. I’ll just text him.” You sighed, taking another deep breath and closing your eyes.
“It’s Gerard, isn’t it?” He asked.
“Huh?” Your eyes went wide, wondering how he figured that out so fast.
“What the hell did he say to you? You know I’ll kick his ass-”
“No, Mikes, no.” You sighed, “I’m just confused.”
“About?”
“Him.”
“Oh.” You nodded.
“I think I need time to figure out how I feel.” He nodded back.
“I understand.” He smiled, as your carb began pulling up. “Well, you know if you need anything, I’m a phone call aways.”
“Thanks.” You tightly smiled, leaning in to give him a hug which he happily returned.
He helped you into your car, shutting the door and waving goodbye, making your promise that as soon as you got back to your place you would text him to let him know you were safe. “I swore she would’ve been my sister-in-law by now.” He sighed as the car pulled away. “But he just had to fuck it up.”
There your phone was in front of you for the third day in a row, his contact still blaring at you through the screen. You had been tempted oh so many times to call, text, anything just to see him.
You were kicking yourself for admitting it, but you missed him.
And deep down you knew better than to get back with a man who had thrown you to the curb like some casual trash every trash day, but 99% of your relationship was different, and you believed him when he explained why he suddenly changed. But you couldn’t just erase away the image of him just casually breaking up with you like it was nothing.
“I just don’t think this is gonna work out.” He nonchalantly stated as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
“What do you mean this ‘isn’t gonna work out’?” You asked him with confusion and despair mixed in your voice. “Two weeks ago we were talking about having kids, Gerard.”
“Yeah, well, life happens.” He stated with a sigh, “Listen I’m not sure if I love you the same way I did.”
“Huh?” You asked in utter shock, “What the fuck has happened to you? You’ve been a completely different person the last week. This isn’t fucking you and I want to know what’s going on.”
“Nothing!” He yelled back, his teeth gritting together and eyes glowing in rage. “Ya know what? This was never gonna work out. We’re two different people. You’re too obsessed with your image and who you are on the outside that people can never see who you actually are. And I’m sure that helps with your insecurity.” That was too far.
“Ya know what, fuck you Gerard Way. And fuck your stupid inflamed ego, and fuck your half ass songwriting that, by the way, wouldn’t be nearly as praised if it wasn’t for me proofreading all of it like a fucking English teacher! And fuck your entire fucking career and who you are as a person because you’re a fucking asshole and a dick.” He scoffed.
“What are you gonna do about that, huh?” He fired back, “Write a song about me.” And that was the final line.
“Get the fuck out of my house.” You demanded, pointing to the door. He gave you a ridiculous look, “I don’t know who you are, but you are not the Gerard Way I fell in love with. So I need you to get the fuck out of my house before I call security.” He rolled his eyes and huffed, grabbing his coat from the rack and opening the door to leave.
“Well, good luck finding any inspiration besides me.”
“That’s the fun of it, isn’t it.” You sarcastically smiled, “I will drag your name through the mud and back, throw it in a dumpster, and light it on fire. Mark my fucking words.”
You knew he had. Judging by the conversation of just a few days prior he had paid the wrath of hell you had cursed upon him, and he knew he deserved it. You wondered if that was enough punishment, or if pretending like you two were never even together was what he really needed.
You shut off your phone, this time aimlessly throwing it across the room as you heard a distant ‘thud’, and groaned, leaning back into your bed. You hated this feeling, these conflicting battles happening in your mind. You had never stopped loving him, and he had never stopped loving you, but he had broke you like no other. Does that deserve another chance.
“See, this is why I didn’t want you two to ever get back together.” Clara came into your room with some takeout bags and you groaned again. “Because he gets you into this weird funk and I don’t like it.”
“It wasn’t always like this.”
“No, but people change, Y/N. And you need to accept that the Gerard who broke your heart was not the same man who you fell in love with. He’s gone now.”
“I don’t think so.” You sat up, squinting your eyes to adjust to the light. “I think he came back.”
“Uh huh, how do you know that?” She sarcastically asked.
“He had the same sparkle in his eyes he did years ago, the same spunk but not in a mean way. When his hand touched my arm I could feel the warmth I felt years ago when we used to hold hands or cuddle.” She sighed, sitting next to you on the bed.
“Yeah, but is he worth going through all that pain again?” She looked down at you as you stared at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” You sighed, “I think so.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Those were the only words muttered as the two of you stood on opposite sides of the door. He was still in the exposed air through the back door of your Tribeca townhouse, standing there with the cool breeze flushing through his hair. You were on the other side inside, and slightly moved over as a signal for him to walk in which he followed.
He slipped off his shoes and jackets as he looked around the first floor living section. He hadn’t been here before, of course he hadn’t. You had sold your old apartment as soon as he broke up with you. You couldn’t stand all the memories there and you wanted to run away as fast as possible.
“Wow,” He commented with a smile, “This is really nice.”
“Thanks.” You lightly smiled, leading him to the living room.
“Coffee?” You asked and he nodded. He never drank anything but that, and you knew nothing had changed. You handed him the mug with just black coffee in it, a similarity the two of you always shared.
The following moments were filled with a level of awkward silence you hadn’t felt in a while. It seemed like each of you were trying to strategically see what the other was plotting; a potential apology, a love confession, makeup sex… who knew. The only solid feeling in the air was one of tension that seemed like a wad of rubber bands wrapped around each other and ready to explode with aggressive pressure.
“So-“ Gerard had started and you looked up at him with a light smile. His eyes met yours, and he suddenly remembered how much he loved to look at them. The natural lighting in your place truly did even more wonders to the eyes he used to beg to stare at for hours because he loved to examine the color and complexion of them. They were a subtle reminder of what home felt like, even if he was on another continent. “I, um, how’ve you been?”
“Good,” You replied with a light chuckled, running your hand over the back of your neck as if you were trying to find some sort of switch that would magically erase the insane tension between the both of you. “Things have been- overwhelming, but good. And you?”
“Better,” He admitted, “I mean, life could be going better, but it’s not awful at least.” You nodded your head a bit, knowing what he meant and feeling the radius of misery that seemed to drag around him. Maybe that’s where their dark and very twisted new record had come from, the scent and general aroma of misery and despair that seemed like a necessary accessory he wore.
“That’s- that’s good.” You replied and he lightly laughed.
“Don’t feel that sorry,” He leaned back on the couch and rolled his eyes, “I think this is karma coming for me after all the shit I’ve done to other people.” You snorted a bit at his revelation, him replying merely with a confused look and twist of his head.
“No- it’s just, you’re never gonna believe this, but I kinda recently wrote a song called karma. Not necessarily about you- but about, ya know-”
“Yeah, I know,” He lightly laughed, throwing his head back. “I mean, he deserves it.” You nodded with a soft smile.
More moments of the same tension from before followed, and floated between the two of you as small talk was clearly a lost cause now. “Listen,” You finally spoke up after a few moments, “I wanted to talk to you just about restoring something.”
“Like what?” He asked, his eyes growing a bit wide in optimism it seemed. Something you recalled him doing a lot when together. Like when you mentioned making his favorite meal, or announcing the shows you would be able to go to on his tour.
“Well, just- something. Friendship or something more, I don’t know. But I think we’ve both been pretty immature about the whole thing that happened, and I don’t know, I feel like it’s time for me to be a bit more adult-ish about everything and at least accept that the past is the past, and try to move on.” It took him a good few seconds to even begin to process your words, and judging by the frozen features on his face, it seemed he didn’t know how to respond for a bit.
“Well, um,” He awkwardly replied, “I’m not against it at all, I’m really glad you wanna try something because I do too, but I’m not sure how I could even begin to start repairing any of the damage I’ve done- I mean, I said and did some awful things to you and just tried to make you feel worthless because that’s how I was feeling.”
You nodded in response, “And I get that. That’s why I’m willing to forgive you, now.” You replied, softly placing your hand over his that sat in the middle of the couch.
He looked down briefly at the contact, his pale face suddenly glowing a bit more red as a blush slowly painted his cheeks.
“I- I appreciate it, but I haven’t really done much to deserve it-“
“Gee, you’re here today. In my apartment, the girl who you crushed, willingly admitting to your wrongdoing.” You promptly replied, “Also, you did admit the 10 minute song was good.”
“I mean, yeah, it was almost an epic of a song.” He replied quickly as if it was obvious.
“Thanks,” You softly smiled, “So, at least friends. And if something else comes up, maybe we’ll try more than friends again.”
“I would like that,” He quickly nodded, “A lot, actually.”
This was so uncharacteristic of you.
In fact, staring at his bedroom ceiling, now, the fan running, and a slight dink from a loose screw on it echoing through the room, you had begun to question every breath you had taken in the last 24 hours. Every step you took was now being analyzed in your mind as to how your feet took you here, and your heart interrupting it with it’s beats of love.
His slight morning snore, as you fondly recalled it, didn’t help either, or his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You were trapped between a choice of freedom and non confrontation to your left, or the sleeping man who you hated for years on your right.
But his death grip was making this impossible, you couldn’t escape if you wanted to, but you were also freaking out… a lot at this point. So much is that you began to feel your lines constricting centimeter by centimeter, and your breath growing heavy and urgent. Your mind began fogging as eyes became dizzy, and were only broken from your trace by a slight shake.
“Y/N/N,” He asked, sitting above you a bit with a concerned look. His face was twisted to your side as if coming out of the right part of your vision from where you laid, grabbing the covers on top of you, “You alright?” He asked. You quickly cleared your throat and nodded a bit.
“Yup, fine.” You admitted, sitting up on your forearms as he gave you more room.
“You sure? Your breathing became heavy all of a sudden and-“
“Yup! Perfectly fine.” You tried to admit as optimistic as possible which came out more as passive aggressive. You quickly got up, wrapping some sheets around you at the edge of the bed, quickly rearranging your clothes on yourself from the night before.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked more starkly, noticing your jittery movements. He got up, and began redressing himself as well, “Baby, I need you to talk to me.”
“Don’t-“ You almost fired back, taking a moment to stop yourself and lower your tone, “Don’t call me that.” You said, finally pulling your shirt over your head.
“Oh- okay.” He replied, confused as he put his shirt on too.
“I just- I need to get out of here.” You frantically said, grabbing your bag and phone.
“What?” He asked again, squinting his eyes at you, confusion clearly taking over every thought in hid mind, “I- Y/N, seriously, what the fuck is wrong?”
“Everything, Gerard!” You yelled back, his face now in shock at your roar. He remembered having your first serious sit down conversation with one another. The one where you each pour out all of your problems on the table, sort through them in conversation like a deck of cards, and finish with passionate sex now that you each knew everything about each other? That one.
You had brought up your anger issues, and despite your juvenile level of anger had long been cooler down to where you stood now, he had been fairly warned about your potential out breaks. It was when you were overly anxious and unsure of how to react to something, so you resorted to overwhelming anger of what was causing you to feel that way. This, was clearly, one of those times.
“Can you just- please shut up for a second.” You heavily sighed, him still staring at you wide eyed.
You took a moment to breath, retreating back to your cleaning up after, and finally after a good minute or two, spoke again. “I- we can’t do this.” You stated, matter of factly, looking at him, “This is against everything I’ve held myself to ever, this goes against all my morals, and most of all makes me feels like some sort of whore, so I need to go.”
Gerard sat still and silent at your self-realization, and only moved with a flinch when he heard the front door slam shut. He then sat, again still, specifically at his wall, and wondered what he had done wrong. You and he had possibly the best night you had with each other just the prior night, and he couldn’t count on his fingers each of you whispered “I love you” to the other. He knew he meant every note of the phrase that came out of his mouth, but now he was wondering the same for you.
“I need a cigarette.” Was all he murmured, getting up and finding his pack and lighters on his bedside table. You knew you loved (despite the fact you always said it was nasty) when he smoked in bed after sex with you under his arm, and last night was no different. A blush always grew on your face and you would always nuzzle closer to him every time he did it, your eyes always glued to his mouth and the smoke that came out of it.
He headed out onto his apartment fire escape/turned balcony and briefly looked down below to the city streets on this cold, rainy, Sunday morning. No better time than for everything to go to shit again. He took a deep inhale after lighting the thin paper, and finally exhaled, looking away from the smoke like he did when a bit annoyed.
In the days that followed, he had set his expectations to be filled with nasty texts and calls from your friends berating him for letting you sleep with him again and get attached. Granted, as cliche as it sounded, the whole “it takes two to tango” scenario was oddly fitting for what was currently going on. He had to set half the blame on you, cut even and sliced to perfection, considering that neither of you would be in this confusing scenario had you just stayed away… but damn was that a hard and daunting task.
He had known from the first few weeks of dating you all those years ago that you were the one for him, and no one would truly compare to the way you made him feel. He was optimistic and happy for the first time in his life, you set off a sort of fire in him that made him feel more human. You were his person, but the whole bullshit of “right person, wrong time” seemed to be the motto of the entire relationship.
He heard his phone ping, laying on the couch and still smoking, a habit that had been indulged into these last couple of days, and reached for the device. He picked it up, flashing his screen and groaned. Of course she had to text him right now out of all times.
He wasn’t even sure if he owed her a response to her petty plea to get him to come over and the numerous risqué pictures she had sent to top it all off made him scoff. It had been months since they had done anything with each other, but the universe clearly had other plans to take the knife already plunged in his chest and turn it.
He simply replied with a “No.” and put his phone back down. If she texted more with pathetic drags at trying to get him to respond, he would simply block her. But he wouldn’t be a dick and make that his first move, at least he would be respectful, slightly, about it at first.
He took another long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before releasing, and heard a faint knock at his door. He sat up a bit, confused and not expecting any visitors, getting up and walking over figuring maybe it was just Mikey. But much to his surprise, when he opened the door, it was you.
You both stared at each other for a good few seconds, before you finally spoke up, “Hi.” You said, simply. He noticed your wet jackets and boots, moving out of the way, and opening the door to let you in.
Nothing was spoken between the time when you slipped off your coat and boots, him graciously hanging your coat on the rack, and sitting down on the couch across from each other. The same whole scenario you went through when decisively saying, “Let’s just be friends” turned into passionate sex.
“So,” He started, looking at you curiously, “Why’re you here?”
“Um,” You began awkwardly, sighing while mentally contemplating what to say next, something you, shockingly enough, had not planned much on your way here. “I came to apologize for running the other night- or morning, really. I just- I got scared and I didn’t know how to handle my emotions and so I ran. And I’m sorry for that, you didn’t deserve to be left like that with no explanation.”
While he wanted to hold a bit of a grudge against your excuse for just leaving him for days, he also knew he was indirectly the cause that put you here. Of course you ran from him, you were scared if you didn’t leave first, he would leave. He took a sigh, himself, composing how to explain his own thoughts without coming off as completely dismissive.
“It’s okay, really.” He finally said, “I- you wouldn’t have to deal with those emotions had I not put you there. But I did, and that’s unfair to you as well. So- just, don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah- but,” You began, trying to find some way to genuinely get your apology across as you still seemed to believe he was just saying that.
“No, Y/N, I completely understand why you did it, and it’s okay, really. You needed time to think and breathe.”
“I just feel really immature about it all,” You continued, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”
“And I forgive you.” He stated, placing his hand on your knee which finally got a small smile out of you.
“Can we, maybe, restart this for like, the second or third time?” You lightly laughed as he smiled and nodded.
“I would love that,” He replied, “But this time I’ll take you out to dinner first, forgot that the first time, well second time around, technically.”
#gerard way#mcr gerard#gerard way fanfiction#my chemical gerard#gee way#my chemical gee#my chemical romance#My Chem#my chemical romance x reader#gerard way x reader#gerard way x you#gerard way x y/n
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c3e53
DDB watch: No sponsor!
There is a sponsor from Honor Among Thieves, though, so take that as you will. The movie is, of course, being funded by Hasbro, and if I remember correctly, this movie could be more important to WotC than D&D Beyond sponsors. So I will personally be boycotting the movie, and if you care about WotC's OGL shenanigans at all, I would suggest you do the same. (Remember: pirating Hasbro products is a victimless crime!)
Chetney returns later in the night. "I didn't--" "It's okay." "I didn't mean--" "It's okay."
With a nat20 arcana check, Chetney remembers that Catha's influence has always been something he's fought to keep under control, but he has always been able to control it before. But because lycanthropy is classed as a curse, it's a magical effect, and it's amplified by the energy of the solstice, making it more difficult for Chetney to retain control.
"I enjoyed it! You were so alive! I shot you in face, multiple times!" Frida my beloved. This is such an interesting reaction for them to have, because who's to say that Aeormatons weren't programmed to be used as test subjects and punching bags?
"No, it's great! I just hold your fate in my hands, that's all." a dm always fulfills his threats
How has it taken me this long to realize that "Frida" sounds the same as "free to" when said with Frida's accent?
Deanna and Frida have lived in Uthodurn for about four years. They live in the house where Deanna's family used to live; they make money by selling Deanna's wares (knitting, mostly) and trading things from their expeditions.
The solstice is also messing with the ever-burning lanterns and enchanted lights that line the central streets of Uthodurn, making them very dim or non-functional.
Many businesses are closed, as well as the temple dedicated to the All-Hammer. The temple being closed is something that never happens.
Chetney sees Oltgar's Chest, where he used to work. It looks like it's expanded, and it has a second floor now. Also, Chetney stabbed Oltgar in the hand, in addition to stabbing someone in the knee.
They arrive at the Vellum Steeple, and there's no one at the front desk, but at a call, a dwarven man appears. Surface thoughts are that he -- along with everyone else in the Steeple -- is trying to figure out what's going on. They don't seem to know much about the solstice itself. They're frustrated to the point of not having time to deal with the Bells Hells right now, because the Steeple isn't technically open to the public right now.
There are 15 or so people inside the Steeple, and the one who seems to be in charge is an elven woman with a pompadour hairdo. This is the same person Matt described at the Steeple in a leadership position in C2E74 -- Scribewarden Ressia Uvessik (she/they).
According to her, the solstice is deeply diminishing divination magic specifically, including clairvoyance, augury, and scrying. Long-standing enchantments have been disabled, including teleportation circles. Inter-city contact is cut off. Given this description, I don't think it's specific to divination magic -- the lights and sending are both evocation magic, and teleportation circle is conjuration.
The Vellum Steeple has sent parties to the Dwendalian Empire and to Rosohna. This is super interesting to me, and is definitely an indicator of political relationships in the continent -- this means that Uthodurn, or at least the Cobalt Soul (which I believe oversees part of the Vellum Steeple) has a positive relationship with the Kryn Dynasty.
FCG/Ashton good cop/bad cop is out, FCG/Deanna good cop/bad cop is in
wait, FCG has access to 5th level spells! They can cast commune!
That dimming of magic affected everything. Uthodurn is facing an issue of escaped prisoners, whose magical binds were weakened enough for them to escape. Some long-standing enchantments of the like have been weakened -- Travis specifically mentions artifacts like the horn of Orcus, but guess fucking what? The same thing applies to the shackles of the Chained Oblivion!
Oh, the teleportation circles were shattered. They weren't just disabled for a time, they were broken. Which means, as per the spell, it will take a year to re-establish them.
Invisible, Chetney overhears quite a few things. People are trying to find the underlying source of the enchantments maintaining Uthodurn's lighting; the high priests of Uthodurn's temples are filled with anxiety and worship services have been cancelled; and a lot of people are just pouring through history that involves a mass loss of arcana.
A loud metallic clang reverberates throughout the city. The room pauses for a minute before going back to their work. This is the walls between discs slamming closed, bet your ass.
Chetney opens a double door and finds a research chamber. There are no people inside, but it's decorated like an office with bookshelves, glass trinkets, and a brass orrery. There are full maps of the city, as well as all of the mines that have expanded outward; ledgers and papers that speak of who originally created many of the city's enchantments; historical pages and scrolls that talk about mass dispelling events (though these have been small, usually localized, and city block-sized). There's a large map of Exandria, but otherwise, nothing that would indicate research beyond Uthodurn or Wildemount.
As she walks in, Chetney realizes that this is the Scribewarden's personal office. She is accompanied by two other people, both of whom she asks to research Ludinus Da'leth and the Cerberus Assembly. She downs a vial of dark brown liquid (possibly a potion of enhance ability, haste, or some other spell that would help their research).
Leaving the Vellum Steeple, the Bells Hells find that the gates between the discs have been closed. Royal guards and Glassblades both are surrounding the gate, with their back to it and pushing crowds away. Some are wounded and bloodied.
Through smaller gates in the wall, nobles, soldiers, and other anxiety and fear-filled people are filtering into the Liberation Disk from the Grand Disk. In the center of that group are the king and queen of Uthodurn, who look spooked and are trying to calm the crowd around them.
FCG's spell save is only 15?? what the fuck Sam?
Frida has a +11 perception, so one of their expertise skills is perception (4 prof + 3 wis + 4 expertise).
"Are we sealed in here?" "Yep! Because FCG decided to run in--" "We're going to prove our worth to the gods!" oh my god. oh my god. is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? is the exact thing that Talisein said during this week's 4SD about to come to pass?
On the other side of the wall, they see..... bodies. Civilians and guards alike. Most unmoving, all marred with slashes. Deanna saves a young royal guard. "What did this to you? "It was this... this fuckin' statue. The one they keep in the citadel. It just... came to life, started killing folks, we had to rush everyone out..."
Interesting note: bioluminescence still seems to function, since various types of flowers and fungus along the walls are still glowing.
Down the way, the Bells Hells see the shadow of a quadrupedal beast with a purplish, ruddy coloration to it. It looks ghostly and material at the same time, and the sounds it makes are as if it has hooved feet.
The guard notes that the statue had been decoration for a long time -- "a statue of one of the great beasts of the Veluthil."
The Veluthil is the former name of the Savalirwood. When Molaesmyr fell to ruin (about 300 years prior to C3), the surrounding forest was horribly corrupted; half of its majority-elven population fled to Bysaes Tyl, which was later assimilated by the Dwendalian Empire, and the other half fled to Uthodurn, where they were taken in and formed the diarchy. The Veluthil was renamed to the Savalirwood, after the elven word for guilt ("savalir").
Break time!
The citadel of Uthodurn looks like a crystal tornado, frozen in place, descending from the top of the 100-foot ceiling of the Grand Disk.
The beast is half material, half ethereal, held together with energy that glows like starlight. It's not actively stalking or rampaging -- it looks confused, like it's looking for something.
As a statue, it was kept on a pedestal in the throne room of the citadel.
Imogen approaches the throne room and sees the bull circling the pedestal where it sat. It isn't a beast or a humanoid; by opening her mind, Imogen senses a brain and an intelligence, but it's alien. It's emotion, not words. She senses anger, frustration, confusion, fear, and longing. It seems to be lost, sad, furious, working on bestial instincts.
Initiative!
Frida's brand of Aeormaton has the "Living Shield" racial ability, allowing them to use their reaction to impose disadvantage on an attack roll against a creature adjacent to them.
It's both a celestial and a beast, and just fails Fearne's charm.
FCG tries to speak to it after casting tongues on it. "If you can understand me, tell us where you want to go, and we can try to help you get there." "I don't know how I got here. I need to get home... to the forest. Where do I go? Where is home?" It doesn't speak with language or words -- it projects emotions that are interpreted into words.
Casting tongues on the creature itself is a fucking brilliant move. This way, everyone can understand it, and it can understand everyone.
Deanna reaches the plaque. It reads, "in memoriam of the fall of Molaesmyr."
So, what's the deal here? Was this thing petrified by people in Uthodurn? Did they find it already petrified by the corruption of the Savalirwood or Molaesmyr itself? If it was petrified by the elves of Molaesmyr, why? Did they need to get it out of the way in order to go forward with their experiments, and if so, is that why the forest was able to be corrupted in the first place? If so, was it Ludinus who ordered it?
The plaque being in elvish implies that it was not brought here by the dwarves;
Fearne's charm fades, but they had four animal handling checks over 20. "Show me where out is."
"Were you from another plane of existence? Do you know?" "I was from the forest. I was the sentinel beast, Umudara. Where is out?"
With a 29 persuasion check, Imogen gets the guards to open the siege gates. On the other side, there are hundreds of Glassblades and royal guards. Hitting the captain of the guard with calm emotions gets them out of the way of Umudara as he makes his way through.
The Bells Hells make their way up the Auger Trail, escorting Umudara out of the city.
"I don't sense it. Where?" "To the south. That way." "...thank you."
"How many of those things are imprisoned throughout Exandria? They can't-- it's not natural."
oh my god Chetney is still in the throne room, I repeat, Chetney is still in the throne room--
He carves his initials into the leg of one of the thrones, and looks for gems imbedded on them. "Oh, they are very well adorned--" "They ain't so well adorned now!"
The thrones are carved from a kind of tree that used to exist in the Veluthil. "It's a unique mixture of pale gray bark with deep maroon layer of bark, like hardened sap that wraps around that climbs up and twists around." Interestingly enough, this description is the same as the one Matt gave for the odd-looking trees that were near the Gorgynei village.
He also finds an engraving of the All-Hammer, and a switch on it opens the door behind the thrones, through which Chetney promptly goes. It descends beneath the disk in a long, curving tunnel, and eventually exits from the base of a massive statue of a tree near the entrance to the Grand Disk.
Udumara heads southward, alone, to find the Savalirwood (and possibly Molaesmyr). I really hope he gets to the Blooming Grove and gets to help the Clays fix the Savalirwood.
#critical role#critical role c3#critical role campaign 3#critical role spoilers#critical role liveblog#note watches c3#long post
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im a simple man, i see a hot drow i black out
rizeth 👃💌, shen 👙, zeth'rinn 🔥
same, bestie
Rizeth:
👃 : Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?
oh this is a tough one. im bad at smells. in my mind, Rizeth very very very rarely puts any actual like. scent/cologne on. very special occasions for that, and it would probably be something subtle, kinda warm/woodsy almost. the kind of scent that’s expensive but not elaborate, something with undertones.
that being said—Ashenivir definitely thinks he smells very very good, with that sweat and subtle person smell that everyone has. and if you asked him he would completely deny having any opinion on how Rizeth smells because haha what no i don’t. have thoughts. on that. what?
💌 : How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?
Rizeth is an overthinker, we know this. So he would spend like a full tenday figuring out what to do, when to do it, how to do it.
Especially because this is Ashenivir, and if this is like, early in The Romance Portion of their relationship, he cannot fuck this up. There is a romantic dinner (probably at his house, so he can indulge in Domming The Boy without witnesses). There are candles. There is a lot of foreplay. Like. A lot.
and after he’s done fucking Ashenivir into insensibility, there will be A Fancy Bath (with more candles), and hair stroking, and reading of arcane theory until Ashenivir either gets impatient and brats at him, or just falls asleep.
listen he always wants to make Shen feel special, and wanted, and prove he’s a good partner (to himself as much as Ashenivir lbr). He’s such a secret romantic, i truly believe this. well. less secret and more ‘i am suppressing all my romantic inclinations for a variety of reasons no i will not be taking questions at this time get out of my house’
Ashenivir:
👙 : What kind of underwear do they use? Is it pretty or functional?
listen, other fandoms have hand wavy science and hand wavy finances. obedience has hand wavy underwear. it’s like. generic fantasy video game underwear, it’s not relevant to the plot. so it’s functional. nice, but functional.
HOWEVER. if we were to apply Real World underwear, i am of the thought that he would be a humble boxer-brief kind of guy. so again, functional. much as i want to put that boy in lingerie, he has some Issues to Work Through before that’s possible.
(god, entirely sidetracked, but i think Rizeth might go feral if Shen showed up to a scene in some kinda stocking-and-garter deal. there would be nothing LEFT of that ensemble by the end of the night. OR FISHNETS. HOLY. Rizeth would eat him alive)
(…now i have a burning need to draw stockings!Shen. can we survive such an image? good grief.)
Zeth’rinn:
🔥 : What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?
THIS IS THE BEST ONE FOR ZETH’RINN. because okay. okay. he’s Jarlaxle’s kid, and he is trying so hard to be the coolest, suavest motherfucker in the Underdark but he is tragically not quite there yet. it is so easy to fluster him by simply flirting back.
He’s like ‘oh god i didn’t think i’d get this far help’. Just tell him he’s pretty or ask if he comes here often and he loses all ability to speak. he was doing so well until you did that, gods dammit, now he has to start all over.
related, he is extremely susceptible to dirty talk. whisper something filthy in his ear and see what colour he turns.
#obedience fic blogging#thank you once again for your committment to letting me blorbo-post to my hearts content#i spent my train ride home writing this i had a good time
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When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)
Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting
Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ
A:
You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.
Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.
Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.
Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.
Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.
“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.
Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”
You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.
He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.
Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.
The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.
“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.
“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.
“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”
Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.
“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.
“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”
Petty by Angel Reyes.
“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.
“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”
“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.
“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”
“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.
Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”
“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.
Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.
“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”
You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.
“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.
He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”
“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.
His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.
He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.
“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.
You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.
“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.
He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”
--------
C:
It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.
Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.
It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.
You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.
Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.
You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.
“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”
You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”
“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”
She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.
“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.
“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.
It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.
Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.
All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???
He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.
The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.
His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.
You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.
He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.
“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.
The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.
You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.
“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.
He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”
“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.
“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.
Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”
“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.
Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.
“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”
“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.
You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.
He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.
“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”
He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-
“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”
“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.
“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.
“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”
It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.
“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.
He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.
“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.
“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”
“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”
You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”
“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.
Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.
You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”
You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.
He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”
--------
E:
It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.
As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.
That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.
“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.
“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”
“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”
EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.
Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.
“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”
“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.
EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”
Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.
“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”
EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.
You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.
“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.
“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”
You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”
“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”
“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.
He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.
“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”
You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.
“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”
They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.
Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.
Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.
Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.
He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.
“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”
He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.
The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.
He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.
“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.
“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”
“I don’t mind, I know clu-“
Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”
“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.
“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.
In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.
Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.
Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.
It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.
His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.
His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?
He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.
He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.
He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.
“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”
“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”
You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”
He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.
You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”
“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.
“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”
He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”
AN:
I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.
1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾♀️
2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.
3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.
#mayans mc#mayans imagine#angel reyes#angel reyes x reader#Coco Cruz#Coco Cruz x reader#ez reyes x reader#ez reyes#reader insert
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♡nsfw alphabet w minho♡
I tried my best to make a list of my own, but I borrowed a few terms from this lovely template!
requested by a cutie anon!
Aftercare: (what they are like after sex) ok, so I see minho as someone who would be super caring after you’ve both properly come down and would want you to feel as comfortable as you can be--he doesn’t want you do have to do much. I am a big believer in minho drawing you a bath to help you relax and get cozy after: he’d hold you in his arms too while giving you a little massage.
Bdsm: (are they into it? how “hard” do they like to go?) yes. the answer to this is yes. I feel like minho is one who really really gets off to the feeling of being the one in control, and knowing that you’re under his control. hearing your little whimpers, or seeing the way that you toss around when he’s using toys or has you bonded turns him on like no other. along this line, I feel like he’d also gladly tease you relentlessly until you’ve got tears in your eyes. he’ll only give you what you want if you ask him nicely
Cum: (anything to do with cum) sooo minho loves cuming on you. he loves it a ton. for him, its the perfect picture when you’re gasping underneath him, just off your own orgasm, hands bound or clawing to the bed when he’ll cum on your chest, or your back, mayyybe even your face if you’re comfortable. oh! if you’ll cum on him...he doesn’t mind that either.
Degredation: (do they like using names on you, or for them?) as we have seen above, I feel like he would be into using degrading names, or having you say them back to him, for example: “you’re such a whore for my dick, tell me that you’re a whore for me.” etc. Of course, he never means what he says, he just knows that it amps things up for the both of you.
Experience: (how experienced are they?) minho is fairly experienced, and also knows well what he likes and knows how to ask you what you like as well. minho isn’t scared to give you instructions or guide you in how you pleasure him as well--he would ask you to do the same!
Favorite (pet names): well, i think that there is a general consensus that minho likes kitten and kitty--it just makes sense lol. Otherwise, the softer ones would be my love, sweetheart, hun, doll, baby girl/boy etc.
Gagging: (size kink perhaps?) I think yes on this one. minho is alll about the power that he has over you, so seeing you gag would boost his confidence. knowing that you have to work a little harder to take him in reassures him that you’re his and that you only bend to him. at the same time, he would never push you to do something that made you uncomfortable and would ask you if you wanted to use safe words/ symbols.
Hair: (how well groomed are they?) this is kind of funny because I think that minho would actually really care about this. mostly from a functionality standpoint, but also when he’s trimmed he feels more confident and like he’s got everything together and organized for when he’s with you.
Intimacy: (the romantic aspect) so minho has 2 modes, and they vary depending on his mood or yours. mode 1 is where he’s doming the hell out of you and he gets to do what ever he likes, making you cum over and over again, teasing you for as long as you can take it and doesn’t show much mercy. on the other hand, when the vibe is different, holy hell he can give you the softest, most intimate sex that you can ever experience. i’m picturing super slow and deep thrusts into you, kissing you just as slowly in between while he tangles up his hands in your hair u g h i love thinking about this
Jack off: (all about masturbation) I see Minho as one who would jack off really lazily, much later at night when there isn’t too much else to do; it isn’t something he prioritizes often unless there’s something that crosses his mind that really turns him on, he’ll even risk doing it somewhere semi-public if it means he gets to roll the image over and over in his mind, especially of you. Oh, and he loves jacking off in the shower when its steamy and warm, I don’t make the rules!!
Kink(s): Minho loves having you all dressed up for him, I’m talking lace, velvet, anything strappy, harnesses, collars, chokers, thigh garters, maybe some kitten ears, mostly he just loves watching you and this is like icing on the cake. I see him having a hand kink as well?? When he’s worshiping your body, he watches his hands trace you all over, he loves it when you suck on his fingers, or when he rubs his thumb over tongue. Also, breath play, edge play and voyeurism!
Location: anywhere. and I mean it. the more risky it is, the more exciting it is for him. bathrooms, locker rooms, dressing rooms, kitchen, living room couch, dining table, shower, bathtub, hotel rooms, the place doesn’t matter, it’s you that does. he would never miss an opportunity to be intimate with you whether its more slow and passionate or sweaty, rushed and needy.
Multiple (partners): i think that this is something that minho would be open to! but not at first. minho is someone who can be very possessive at times, so sharing you with others when the realtionship is new makes him a little nervous--bc he wants you to be all his! after a while though, the idea of sharing you with someone and watching you get wrecked under them...he wouldn’t oppose.
No: (something they won’t do, turn offs) while he won’t say no, daddy kinks aren’t his favorite, it’s simply something that doesn’t turn him on; he prefers to be the one calling you names hehe. he’s mostly an open minded person, just because he gets off on helping you get off.
Oral: loves loves giving oral to his partner, it’s one of his favorite ways to begin foreplay, he’s exceptionally skilled as well, and knows perfectly how to use his mouth to tease. gives one hell of a blowjob, and knows how to make you cum over and over just from his tongue on your clit. he won’t ask you to blow him, but rather tease you until you’re begging to do it for him.
Pace: super slow or super fuckin’ fast. there is no in-between and that’s that on that! if you ask me, as much as he revels in pounding you into the bed, it’s the slower and more sensual moments that linger on his mind longer.
Quickies: i think this goes without saying, but minho never passes up the opportunity to take you right then and now. funnily enough, if you’re at work/school and send him a message about how you might be feeling a little horny, this man will drive all the way to you just to help you out. lil anecdote: his favorite thing to do is fuck you bent over a bathroom sink, battling the time before someone notices you’re away. he loves watching your fucked out face in the tinted green bathroom mirror.
Ropes: (tying you up au) i added this to the list mostly for fun, but also I’ve got this idea of minho loosing his mind over having you tied up or restrained. ropes, ribbons, velvet, bow ties, handcuffs and much more. there’s nothing more that he likes than seeing you all helpless and not able to do anything about it. he thinks you looks so pretty tied up especially if it’s ribbons of pretty colors that look beautiful on your skin.
Stamina: bucket loads. I’ve definitely seen something somewhere talking about how minho’s got a dancers stamina and I can’t agree more. minho’s got the stamina to draw out his thrusts for hours or give it to you as quickly and as roughly as he possibly can, granted he’ll be a sweating mess by the time that he’s done, but he sees that as sign that he did his job very well.
Toys: in my oponion, yes and no. lolll I say this for the reason of minho’s ego getting in his own way. he feels fuckin’ amazing knowing that he can make you cum as hard as you do only from his body and would much rather use the tools at his disposal rather than toys...but...seeing what toys can do to you and how he can use them to his advantage is soemthing he won’t pass up. His personal favorites are all kinds of vibrators, cock rings, hmmm and occasionally nipple clamps
Unfair: (tw: dubcon) (how much that they like to tease) oh my, very much so. fuck, it’s probably his favorite thing to do to you! I’ve said before on this account that minho is into teasing even when it isn’t “that time” meaning he’ll brush up against you in public with his hand or grind himself into you when you’re sitting in his lap. his hand will creep up your thighs slightly when the two of you are in the car together to make you squirm a little bit. and of course, he’ll tease you for real when he’s got you all to himself, and would do it for hours if you let him.
Volume: frick i love thinking about this!!!! i see minho as being someone more on the quiet side: shaky exhales, choked little breaths, the occasional soft “mmm” or “ahh.” if he’s really loosing himself in it however, looking down at you with tears in your eyes, or drool slipping down your neck from blowing him, he’ll let out some of the most unapologetically erotic moans on his pink lips
Wild card: (you pick!) i would like to use this place to talk about how much a bratty sub makes him go frickin’ feral. There is something about the way that you bite back at each of his demands, it only makes him want to dig into you even harder. you’d say to him as he’s relentlessly fucking into you “i-is that all that you can do? you’re bo-boring me...” in seconds, he would have you flipped around into a completely different position, something you didn’t even know existed that makes your muscles burn but your heat ravenous. he’d say, “if i’m so boring how is it that I’ve made you a fucking mess for me three times already?”
X-ray: (what’s going on under those pleather pants) thicc thighs I’ll tell you that HA, jk that’s just me having the biggest most embarrassing thigh kink alive lmaooo. buuut it’s true! minho’s got those perfectly toned and thick thighs that he loves having you grind on of course. as for what this letter is really about, I see minho has having just the right proportions. not to be cheesy, but it’s like this boy was practically frickin made for you!! buuuut I think we all know that minho’s packing with something
Yes: (biggest turn ons) on top of the ones mentioned above, I wanna make this one kinda cute and sentimental just bc I can lolll, but a major turn on for minho is a bomb ass personality!! minho really treasures people who are unique, true to themselves and passionate about something! he finds this super super attractive. this man is an absolute SIMP for a personality and that’s the first thing he falls in love with about you! (also shhhh I’m not pushing my pan!minho agenda shhh)
Zzz: (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) kinda like with aftercare, minho can’t rest himself properly until you are fully taken care of! as soon as he knows that he’s covered all the bases: cleaning you off, getting you clothes, water, food, giving you a massage if you need it. as soon as the two of you are all cuddled up in together, then he’ll be able to relax himself, patiently smoothing down your hair as you fall asleep yourself, then, he’ll be out like a light.
#the hard and soft stan in me is thrivingg#stray kids#stray kids smut#skz#skz smut#lee minho#lee minho smut#minho smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids oneshots#stray kids drabbles
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I'm ECSTATIC that you guys are open again!! May I get a few long and angsty sterek fics with a happy/fluffy ending? preferably hurt!stiles and protective!derek if you have any. Bonus if there are any Alive Hale Family fics as well! Thank you for everything you guys do!
Sure!
Glory of the Dead by thedarknovak
(10/10 I 41,926 I Mature)
In the wake of the death of head Whiterun guard Jon Stilinski, the newly orphaned Stiles has no where else to go. Sure he could stay with Melissa, but he wants to escape he wants to see Skyrim. So he goes to the only place he could think of. He goes to Jorrvaskr, the same place his best friend Scott had gone to a year prior. He wants to make his father proud, he wants to become an honorable warrior and make it to Sovngarde. Then he thinks why would the Companions ever want a slim half Breton as an prestigious warrior of their ranks.
Or when Stiles joins the Companions
Or when Stiles was given a choice of being given the blood of the wolf, but the choice is made for him when something terrible happens to him. Stiles struggles accepting that he’d now be joining the eternal hunt.
Will Stiles or Derek address the very apparent feelings both of them share for each other? Will Stiles find a way for Derek and him to make it to Sovngarde?
So here begins the Adventure of Stiles Stilinski, hero, werewolf, mate. The dragonborn has a run for his money with Stiles around.
Burning House by witchgrassi
(1/1 I 46,133 I Not Rated)
For as long as he can remember, Stiles Stilinski has dreamt of the house in the woods.
I'll Throw Us Stars, Stars, Stars! by ChrysX
(15/15 I 46,985 I Mature)
In an alternate universe where everyone is some sort of shapeshifter, Derek Hale the 30 year old chief editor of ''Alpha to Ωmega'' magazine has just come out on the winning side of a difficult adventure with his health. He is finally in a really good place in his life. He has a job he's great at, a loving family and the perfect girlfriend by his side. The only thing he wishes for? A child of course! That's where Stiles Stilinski comes in the picture. The 18 year old photography student who somewhere along the story ends up working for Derek... and also is somehow pregnant with his child. But neither of them knows that!
Not With a Bang, But a Shiver by captaintinymite (augopher)
(11/11 I 51,148 I Explicit)
Eighteen years ago, Earth froze over. You either adapted, or you didn't survive. A group of nomads arrived at the coast, settling at the small shipyard. A lone barge, laden with containers, sat frozen in port.
They fashioned a functional society at the docks. Survivors came from all over, drawn to the Bear Beacon that burned atop a stack of shipping containers. Everyone did their part to keep it safe. The most skilled went out on the sea ice and sought out seals. The bravest ventured up into the forest to the junction of two frozen rivers. Yet... No one ever crossed that line.
There were stories of men who wore the skins of wolves and preyed on the weak. A young shaman, however, knew the real story. Men didn't just wear the skins; they were the wolves. If his people didn't cross into their territory, then they were left alone. Until one day, one pack strayed over the line and attacked first. In a desperate bid to escape, the shaman found he'd stepped over the boundary where he met a young, handsome wolf who had been warned to stay away from humans.
Neither could stay away from the other, and their romance would set in motion events no one could foresee: The thaw.
The Second We Said ‘I Do’ by Jiaxing
(19/19 I 53,056 I Mature)
Stiles is an aspiring digital artist who is struggling to open his own advertising company. He’s also in ‘friends with benefit’ term with the rising pop idol Theo Raeken. One day, his father summons Stiles home and tells him that his deceased mother had one last wish that has not yet fulfilled by them. Her will was: to see Stiles marries one of her best friend, Talia Hale’s, children, once Stiles graduated from uni. Half-heartedly, because it was his mother’s wish and motivates by the fact that his father threatened to freeze his allowance and capital to establish his company, Stiles complies to be married off to the Hale. He’s supposed to wed Cora Hale, Talia’s youngest daughter, a petite brunette. He may get to like his bride, since he’s into brunettes. However, on the wedding day, his ‘other half’ is not petite at all, and definitely not a brunette. Not only he’s a he, the said other half has a face of a serial killer, despite all his hotness. That day, Stiles is married to one Derek fucking Hale.
Are you the one by fullmoontonightt
(6/6 I 57,248 I Mature)
If you’d told Stiles that one day he’d be the star of some stupid soulmate searching reality show, he probably would have laughed in your face.
Yet, nothing was less true today.
When Stiles enters mtv's reality tv show 'Are you the one' he doesn't expect anything serious to come from it. He especially doesn't expect to meet the love of his life.
This is Yours by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)
(2/2 I 73,347 I Mature)
‘Lance’ had one hand against the back of his neck beneath his hood, and the other gripping the back of Derek’s head, sucking on his tongue almost lewdly while rocking his hips forward into Derek’s. A groan slid its way up his throat, and Derek broke the kiss, biting at the other’s full bottom lip.
“Seriously,” he said loudly, “what’s your name?”
“It’s a secret,” the other informed him, still smiling impishly, then dove in for another kiss.
Derek decided to let it go for now, he had the rest of the night to get a name out of him.
Followed by the past by Amatour424
(!2/12 I 90,806 I Explicit)
“Just to be clear: you want to give a good fuck like, a literal fuck as a birthday present to Derek Hale,” Scott said uncertainly, his voice laced with confusion.
The pack nodded to his statement, one by one.
“He'll be 30, and we want him to spend this special night in a very-very pleasurable situation. Like any good pack would do for their leader. He deserves it,” Boyd smirked at the human boy.
******
Stiles left the town after his graduation with his boyfriend. He moved back after some serious shit happened to his father. Now, he's alone, without any friends, with a lot on his shoulders. He finds himself in the middle of a horrible misunderstanding, which will maybe lead him to a life he always dreamed about.
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Attempting to do this whole @whumptober2020 thing! (Still working out how to best put these on AO3, since they’ll all be pretty short!)
Here’s day 1: “waking up restrained” - for which Steve/Bucky seemed like the thing to do...
#
Bucky’s woken up in restraints before. He even remembers some of those times. The fun, the not so fun, and the ugly. This one definitely qualifies as ugly.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak—don’t let them know you’re awake, whispers the Soldier in his head, don’t give away any information, don’t give them a reason to hurt you more—but he thinks he’s alone in the room, wherever the room is, if it’s still the same room he’d gone down fighting in. This is not good for a number of reasons, not least of which has to do with Steve also not being in the room.
Steve Rogers will fight the world if someone needs him. Even more so if that someone’s Bucky Barnes, who doesn’t deserve Steve’s big damn hero heart but somehow gets to have it anyway, to cup it in both hands and keep it safe.
Bucky tries to move his arm, the vibranium one. Can’t, in the way that suggests something’s very wrong. He can’t feel much either. Sensors not working. Okay. Good to know.
He makes himself breathe for a second, not remembering pain and helplessness and the phantom space at his shoulder when he’d first lost—
No.
He does a rapid mental inventory. Broken ribs: definitely. One cracked femur, though it’s knitting itself back together. Dull aches around his kidneys. A bullet through his stomach. Something not working right in his throat, but that’s also healing. His flesh and blood arm feels wrong too. Crushed. Numb, in an ominous way. Not mobile.
He can handle all of that. Whatever they’ve done to his arms might be an issue, but he’s felt worse.
He guesses Steve’s busy making some other people feel a lot worse too right now, unstoppable angry ball of justice that he is; that has to be the case, because if Steve’s not fighting, that means Steve’s in even worse shape, which isn’t allowed to happen. Not while Bucky Barnes is alive, thanks.
He opens both eyes.
A straight-up medieval torture chamber looms back at him, except it’s also made love to a mad scientist’s laboratory, which come to think of it describes Hydra as a whole pretty well. Water drips down a wall for an extra-unpleasant slimy effect, dim light glints off worrying metal implements, and there’s a giant hole in the wall over to the left, courtesy of one of Bucky’s grenades colliding with a mystical incantation in their way in. Nobody’s anywhere in sight, and they must’ve figured Bucky was taken care of for the moment, since he’s lying on a cold stone floor with his legs in manacles and an honest-to-God boulder pinning both his arms.
Stupid of them, really.
He remembers storming the fortress, him at Steve’s back, as always. He remembers Steve giving orders, directing agents to rescue their captured friends. Of course it’d been a trap, but Steve Rogers will walk into fire or ice or in this case a goddamn warlock’s dungeon to save good people, and it’s Bucky’s job to make sure someone saves Steve.
He’s guessing that, if Steve hasn’t come for him yet, some saving might be in order about now.
He can’t move either arm yet, but his legs’re doing better. The healing feels strange, though. Off somehow. Sluggish.
They’d run in and there’d been people, both the mystical chanting kind and the kind with guns, and Steve had gone right through them in search of the kidnapped agents, and Bucky’d noticed the weapon shakily being lifted by one of the men left on the ground in Steve’s wake, and he’d thrown a knife and thrown himself in front of Steve but everything’d gone black and broken—
So our strategy failed, muses the Winter Soldier silently. That piece of Bucky’s head isn’t judgmental, because it doesn’t remember how to be, but it does unemotionally consider data and move to the next option. Assume that Captain America is incapacitated, and follow procedure six for—
“Shut up,” he says aloud, “nothing failed and nobody’s incapacitated, I got between Steve and whatever the fuck it was, that was perfect strategy,” and twists an ankle, in a rusted loop of iron. This’s going to hurt, and he’s not going to like it.
It does, and he doesn’t. He doesn’t quite scream or pass out, though he would’ve been okay with either, frankly. He’s not worried about what any Hydra surveillance thinks of him, if they’re even watching.
He does lie very limp and immobile for a while, unable to do much else, while his broken and now freed feet put themselves into some sort of order. Little glittery sparks dance along his vision. His breathing’s short and shallow with pain.
But, hey, he’s got feet. Which means he’s got explosives. No one took the time to search him, at least not properly. He wiggles off his boots, once he can. Finds a helpful little destructive toy with his toes. Flings it at the boulder.
The rock explodes, which given that it’s above his head, anchoring his arms where he’s pinned to the floor, might’ve not been hist best idea. Stone shards fly. Burning flecks lace his skin. His hearing vanishes in ringing echoes.
He tries not to think about his crushed arm, or the non-functioning metal one, or the way his gut’s bleeding still, a trickle.
He makes himself sit up, because he’s free and Steve needs him. His arms’ll heal. He’ll heal. No matter what they’ve done to him.
Steve, he thinks; and he winces as a bone straightens itself.
He makes himself get up, hand on the wall for support. His ankles aren’t thrilled, given what he’s just put them through, but they love Steve too, so they cooperate.
Steve, he thinks again, I’m coming. And he stumbles toward the stairs.
#whumptober2020#no.1#waking up restrained#fandom#stucky#fic#injury tw#my fic#this challenge was made for me#is steve okay?#what do YOU think?#is bucky going to be okay? maybe....
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UHHH THE SECOND IDEA FIRST
OKAY Time's disastrous universe let's get it boys
Below is a VERY long personal-story related ramble because a lot happens here and there's a lot to explain and I'm being enabled
(c/w death, a LOT of memory erasure, Gods being idiots, and. If I need to add anythin else here someone better let me know hehehe)
feat some dumb lil doodles here n there because i felt like it
Exposition time first!
At the beginning of everything, eight universes were created, each differentiated by color. A Universe Owner is assigned to each universe, and that entity is then responsible for their universe's laws of reality, the lives of the characters, and... whatever else they decide to mess with.
This is so I can allow myself a lot of freedom in making stories in many different areas n such without worrying about it following another story's rules >:)
Okay exposition time done! for now!
One day out of the blue, the God of Time decided that they wanted a universe all for themselves. They wanted to create life!! They wanted to make a world!! It'd be fun! It'd be a whole vibe!
So, against the wishes of the God of Balance, Time made a ninth universe and fruitlessly tried to keep it hidden from everyone else. This backfired instantly.
A huge argument broke out between Time and Balance, as the latter was pissed, but Time won in the end and was allowed to keep their universe. Balance is just upset there's not a nice even number anymore. He'll get over himself eventually.
Straight up having a great time now, the God of Time went hogwild and fleshed out their universe to the best of their ability. Beautiful lush forests, stunning pink skies as if it were in a continuous sunrise, crystal-clear waters that glimmer ever-so-brightly!! Yes!! Pretty!!
And immediately after, they created creatures!! And people! To inhabit their world!
Elegant flying beasts, colorful people of all shapes and sizes, bustling towns with trade and life and energy and!!! Yes! Yes!! Vibes!!
Time was living their BEST life.
But. Well. This is my story. things gotta go wrong now
SO! First, something to note about how the God of Time works:
Time's primary job is to keep the Time Fire from ever going out or touching the ground.
The Time Fire is an eternally burning flame, forever shifting from vibrant color to vibrant color, getting bigger and burning stronger with every passing millennia. It also... y'know. Allows time itself to function.
If it goes out, time will stop. If it touches the floor, time will go NUTS and parallel/alternate universes will go haywire, clashing into one another and messing up reality.
The God of Time, luckily, has powerful psychic abilities.. The tall mans just put the Time Fire in a sort of protective bubble, constantly floating above the ground, and left it in a temple at the center of their universe. Epic. All works out
Well. All SHOULD have worked out.
At some point, Time left their universe to have a meeting with the Gods, and on their way to Oblivion - often a meeting place for deities - they witnessed something Very Unfortunate.
One of the Universe Owners, Hesit (white universe), was being torn to pieces by an intruder in the higher realm. By killing and consuming Hesit, possession of the white universe was transferred to said intruder: a big asshole named Vexis.
Time tried to confront Vexis immediately after. This was a mistake, as Vexis panicked and attacked Time. Seeing as Gods cannot die, Vexis instead trapped the god in his newly-acquired universe - binding him there forever.
So now Time is imprisoned in the white universe, lost and confused, not knowing how to get back out.
And Vexis doesn't plan on telling anyone about this.
The other gods soon realize that Time has gone missing. Very soon, actually, because... well. With Time being swept away into the white universe and being held prisoner there, uhm. A certain something important isn't being held suspended anymore.
The Time Fire.
It hasn't fallen yet, but it's gradually sinking toward the ground, and sometHING has to get a hold on it soon!! Or HELL WORLD!!
Balance loses his MIND!! We have to do something about this before time becomes a catastrophic, unfixable disaster! And also we're missing a god!! This is not good!!
At first, Balance goes looking for Time, but realizes he doesn't really uh... have the time to be doing that
So, in desperation, he searches his mind for possible solutions. He gets one, crazy idea, and practically begs the God of Death to help him pull it off.
Death agrees, because this is the one (1) time Death acknowledges that the mortal realm being in danger might be a bad thing.
To put a long plan short, Balance used Death to turn the Goddess of Pain into a pseudo Goddess of Time.
Pain had previously been wreaking HAVOC, and Balance was NOT happy about it. Way too many mortals were dying, then not dying, then losing their sanities, then losing control of themselves, and it was just. Very messy.
He didn't feel great about using her to replace Time, but he didn't have many options. And he needed someone to take over.
So, he and Death worked together to erase Pain's memories and turn her into a Goddess of Time.
They couldn't give her psychic abilities, though. So, how'd they deal with the Time Fire?
It now permanently rests on Pain/Time's back. As in, the flame is constantly burning her spine for all of eternity, steadily searing her flesh but never allowing her to die. She's grown progressively numb to it over many, many years, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate for her.
Balance feels awful about this. Especially since Pain/Time doesn't remember who she was, and believes she's always been Time. This is how it's always been. The universe around her is one she made, one she owns.
Anytime Balance stops by to visit (as Time cannot move now from the temple with the fire), she greets him so kindly, so happy to have company... and he just feels terrible, knowing what he's done to her.
Well... at least that's settled. This cannot possibly go awry in any way shape or f----
The new Goddess of Time is trying her best to make creations for her universe. After all, that's what she's always done! These are her children, essentially, and she needs to have more.
This, uh... well, the Goddess of Pain was not made with creating in mind, rather destroying. So, despite her valiant efforts, half of her creations come out... a Lil Messed Up.
But she loves them all the same and keeps them around!!! Even if they're... worse for wear, or not quite like the rest!! They're her children. Yea!
At some point, however, her creating takes a bit too much from other universes' energy, and a mortal from another universe just ends up appearing in Time's.
His name is Dustivan, and he is reasonably confused. One moment, he was vibing with his sister and her wife, and the next-- where the hell is he. why is the sky pink. who is this block man approaching me
The block man in question is named Maurice, and he is a sort of guardian for Time's temple. The Time that's always been here. The Time that has always looked like that and never been any different!
(All of the Original Time's creations had their memories wiped, too. This Goddess of Time is the only one there's ever been! That's your mother, see. There is no other Time. She created you. Don't worry about it)
Maurice greets Dusty under the assumption that this man is just another new creation, and is soon told that "Uh, no, I'm... from some place else? I have a family? And a home, elsewhere?"
M. Maurice is a lil confused. But he asks Time about this.
Time has no idea what he's talking about, either, so Maurice just... calmly escorts Dusty away, promising to get back to him later. We'll figure this out, man, don't you even worry about it
Now, there's a bit here that's only loosely developed! That being Dusty's stay in Time's Universe!
Lil man meets a lotta folks, gets used to this weird world he's living in, makes good friends with Maurice and Maurice's maybe-more-than-friends-:flushed: friend Arin, aaand has a great experience! Because Time's universe is incredibly serene and peaceful, even with the new management!
Straight up vibi--- oh no wait what's this
Somehow, Maurice, Arin and Dusty find out about the whole... thing that happened with the original Time, and Pain being turned into the new Time. Maurice and Arin get their memories back and freak out a little while Dusty is just standing there like "big rip on you guys I guess"
Shenanigans ensue and Maurice goes back to Pain/Time, thinking it'll definitely work out if he tells her everything that happened so her.
Hey so it doesn't work out
Pain regains her own memories, and becomes ABSOLUTELY PISSED OFF, shedding the form forced onto her and returning back into the Goddess of Pain. In her transformation, however, she shook the Time Fire from her back, screaming in the agony that caused her, and. well.
she hit the floor (she hit the floor) next thing ya know, time fire got low low low low low low
Time itself was sent into disarray. The God of Balance felt it happen, FREAKED OUT, picked up the God of Death and just BOOKED IT into Time's Universe, dashing toward the temple.
But it... was no longer a temple! It was very much destroyed.
Balance is faced with the rubble of the former temple, the Fire just chillin on the ground, Arin bleeding to death after being attacked by Pain, Maurice fretting and trying to keep Arin alive, and Dusty aboutta also fucking die because Pain is angry.
Alongside the bodies of whatever other poor creations/people just happened to be nearby the temple when this went down. Which was probably quite a few, as the temple was almost always open to visitors.
Death and Balance did the exact same thing again, though with added struggle. Pain was reverted to Time, the Time Fire was yeeted right back onto her spine (followed by a shriek of... pain), and Balance practically collapsed onto the floor hoping to never get up again
Death, however, forced him up, gesturing to the creations around them and uh. hey. their minds. wipe 'em
Balance was very tired by this point, but began wiping the survivor's memories, running into Dusty and realizing "hey wait a minute. you're not from this universe" and just kicking that idiot back to where he's supposed to be.
might've forgotten to wipe that one's mind but uh i'm sure that's not important
And that's essentially the end of that plot thread! Life continues as if nothing happened, afterwards.
Time was restored (though a fuckton of "discrepancies" are now notable throughout the universes, as if time went Wonky or something), the people are thriving, and Maurice & Arin... the latter of which did indeed survive... are wondering if there's something important they were supposed to remember.
nah. probably not
there's a few side stories with characters in Time's universe, including another survivor of the Pain Realizing Who She Is incident... though he got the hell outta dodge and managed to keep his memories. making him a sort of fugitive as Balance has to track that idiot down and fix that problem
but!!! this is already a very, very long post, so. WOO
#clamtalk#VERY long ramble#obligatory oc tag#//oc story: time's universe#//oc: god of time#//oc: god of balance#//oc: dustivan#//oc: maurice#//oc: arin#//oc: goddess of pain#yeap#okay now for the fun tags#ocs#oc#original characters#original story#story#gods#man#just#plot#things#i don't actually know how to tag#buT#HERE WAS THIS MESS.#my hands hurt#now it's time for all that effort to be for two notes#yea baby
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Part 1/2, for @hopelessly-me - enjoy! ♥
Kitchen Nightmares
Clint loves cooking. He is pretty damn amazing at it, too. Give him some time and he’ll whip up what the other Avengers refer to as “magic on a plate” seemingly out of thin air. No matter how simple or complicated, his food always turns out delicious. Whether he is cooking or baking, it doesn’t matter if they just got new groceries or if he is basically cleaning out the refrigerator. Clint’s food has truly spoiled them all, and when he is gone for longer stretches of time on SHIELD assignments, they definitely miss him for more than just company and bad puns.
The thing is, Tony likes cooking. He really does - he spends a lot of time trying to make dinner or hot breakfast, and the results are… Interesting. Oftentimes burned or stone cold with very little in between, unless you count his food being over- or under seasoned. Or any imaginable combination of forgotten or randomly added ingredients.
To say that Tony is bad at cooking would be putting it very nicely. He may be a genius with a remarkable brain and way more PHDs than anyone really needs, but that doesn’t mean he is fit to be let loose in a kitchen on his own devices. Which, of course, doesn’t stop him from trying.
Clint loves Tony, and Tony loves Clint. Which is why Tony wants to surprise him with a meal some days, on which he’s spent hours, trying to get it right. To be fair, he really puts a lot of love and effort into the whole thing, because again, his intentions are good, but the execution needs work still.
As a result, Clint is choking down almost inedible food on a regular basis, because he recognizes the love and effort, even though he has suffered through more than a few awful meals.
So, it’s a thing.
Whenever he catches Tony early enough, with JARVIS help, because the AI really is amazing, Clint casually asks,
“Hey Honey, need any help?” in an attempt to keep an eye on his boyfriend and keep the damage to a minimum. But Tony, bless him, without a fail will just beam at him and say something along the lines of,
“Nope, you go relax, I’ve got this!” and pull Clint in for a kiss before shoving him out of the kitchen to keep working in secret and almost set the house on fire in the process.
Tony doesn’t “got this”. He really, really doesn’t, but Clint also doesn’t want to crush his excitement or enthusiasm.
While the interest and good intention is definitely there, Tony never had the opportunity to actually learn how to cook. Growing up, there were always butlers and chefs to take care of the meals, nevermind the fact that Howard Stark would have freaked the fuck out if he had found his son on a kitchen stove - that one incident when Tony was six had been more than enough, and he’d never treid again, up until he was an adult. All through college, he’d either lived on cup noodles or whatever Rhodey had cooked, and then there is that one time where he spent three hours on scrambled eggs, which caused Pepper to be worried about his well-being more than anything.
So yeah, Clint knows all this, and he absolutely understands what it is like to have missed opportunities. He himself has experiences with that, although on a different level under different circumstances, but the point is: missed opportunities, never learned something as a kid, wanting to catch up - Clint gets it. He really does.
This is why Clint lets Tony have his way, and silently pulls up the pizza delivery app on his phone, knowing they’ll more than likely need it in the near future.
Not even Lucky wants any of the scraps Tony cooks. The very same mutt who will dig through the trash can because it’s fun and there might be something edible in it, refuses to even touch whatever Tony is cooking. Lucky might come over to inspect it, but more often than not, he’ll just sneeze at the offering and leave the room. It’s kinda sad and kinda hilarious at the same time.
Tony continues causing absolute havoc in the kitchen nonetheless.
One morning, Clint enters the kitchen, running frantically because there is a lot of smoke. He can see the flashing lights and feel the vibrations of the extra loud smoke detector in the kitchen - all accommodations to his damaged hearing. Lucky is barking like crazy, and even though he woke up about 20 seconds ago, Clint is on his feet and scrambling, worried because there is smoke and the alarm is going off while Tony was not next to him in bed when he woke up. He needs him to be okay, because he doesn’t know what he would do without him.
“Fuck!” Clint is cursing and coughing, smoke stinging his eyes and creeping into his lungs, which is bad.
Thankfully, as it turns out, the fire was relatively small and Tony is perfectly fine - he slips into his boyfriend’s frantic hug with ease, squeezing to reassure him that everything is alright - well, apart from the smoking pan on the stove and the wide open window. At least JARVIS has turned the alarm off now.
“Fucking shit. Are you okay?!” Clint asks, despite seeing so for himself and being able to hold Tony close to reassure himself that he is, in fact, fine and in one piece. With a heavy sigh of relief, he adds,
“Next time just set an alarm clock, huh? It’ll be evil still, but much more gentle than the smoke detector going off”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was gonna make eggs and bacon… Extra crispy, as it turns out.”
Tony shoots him a lopsided grin, almost sheepish as he runs a hand through the messy mop of hair on Clint’s head. If the archer wasn’t so genuinely freaked out about his safety, Tony would have laughed. He loves early-morning-Clint, because he’s always rumpled and disheveled in his own adorable way. Especially before coffee, when he is a tired, grumpy mess and Tony wants to kiss him senseless every single day.
Today, Clint is wide awake and sags into his partner in relief. The two of them hold onto each other for a bit, simply enjoying each other's company. A cold chill from the open window creeps into the room, and the smell of burned breakfast is slowly getting less and less. Small favors.
Both men look over at the pan, where nothing edible is recognizable as such.
“Extra crispy indeed. Idiot.” Clint adds, fondly as he presses a kiss into Tony’s dark hair. It only makes him laugh.
Another morning, the kitchen is not filled with smoke, which is honestly always a plus, but Tony is standing near the stove, unmoving and staring as if he isn’t sure what exactly he is looking at.
Cautiously, Clint steps closer - thankfully, he already had a cup of coffee before his workout routine and is as much of a functioning human as he can be.
“...Tony?” he asks, stepping closer. The man in question shakes his head slowly.
“It was supposed to be french toast.”
“...Okay?”
“It was supposed to be french toast.” Tony repeats, then sighs.
“I’m not sure what it is now.”
“So, uh… Wanna walk me through your steps to see where it might have gone wrong?” Clint asks, and he is looking at a defeated man.
“The step is I’ll order breakfast online, goddammit.”
“Are you sure? We can make some together, if you want to.”
“Yeah, about that, I kinda used up all the ingredients and fucked up too many times…”
A long beat of silence passes, and even the dog looks up from his pillow in the corner as if to say “Silly human”.
“...Ordering online it is.” Clint agrees, and for once, keeps the snarky comments to himself.
One would think that the day would come where Tony gets discouraged by failure after failure - it doesn’t. On the contrary, it makes him want to prove even more that he can do this, which also means that he refuses to accept any help, determined to figure it out on his own.
Spite and stubbornness have kept him alive at more than one point in his life. There is no way Tony Stark will be defeated by a simple breakfast recipe - or any other for that matter - again.
So, one day, he greets Clint with a wide, toothy grin and a “taste it” as he shoves a pot and a spoon in his direction.
And because Clint loves him, he does taste it. He only barely manages to keep himself from coughing, but he is not sure for how long things can go on like this. Sooner or later, he will have to sit Tony down and talk about this. He would love to encourage him to keep going, but the results and waste of food are too much to bear at this point. Not to mention the fire hazards.
*+~
Prompt 16: "Taste it (evil grin)"
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Everything feels so quiet again. I hate this about being nocturnal. At least during the day more people are around and online and I might have a little interaction. I wonder if I'll ever get my body clock to function on a 24hr schedule. Even as a child and teenager I've always had sleeping problems though. My body clock has always fought against regular timing. I definitely find it easiest when I'm actually excited to get up for something in particular, but that's not all there is to it. Besides that feels like a tall ask right now.
I've been crying a lot recently. I dont usually cry that much at all but the past month maybe, in increasing frequency, and the majority of the past few days, I'm always on the verge of or in tears. I'm on so much prozac I can sometimes feel it pushing me to just smile through it and do something, but I think my mind wins over it when it sees that my 5 minutes of positivity didnt bring luck like everyone says it will. I'm tempted to lower my dose just so I can at least be consistently sad. Part of me hopes I'd get bad enough to SH and do more noticeable stuff so someone will realise how I feel, but part of me knows that's not how itll work and I'll just do those things and feel even worse because I'm still by myself. Most of me feels guilty because that's the dramatic stereotype and nobody likes an attention seeker, but most of me also knows it's not socially acceptable to directly ask for help and support. The times I've said a thing about how bad I feel, very obviously in need of support, i havent got it. So if i did something more, i still wouldnt get it, but I'd just be bothering people even more by letting them see. But then maybe I'd actually get the balls to just end it properly and get it over with. But I also know I'm not someone who'd do something so final without exhausting all options first, which means I'd also say that more directly, and then the same issue applies.
I'm so sick of feeling like this. I feel like such a waste of space and it's the same problem where I need x to do y but I need y to get z and I need z to get x. Whenever I try to force myself to break that cycle alone, I burn out. I feel worse for the fact that I'm doing it alone. I feel like theres no point in achieving any of it if I'm still alone. I did so much growing up by myself and doing way too much and all it got me was a bit more time alive so I could watch everyone else actually live and realise how cut off i was. Last time i had a major breakdown i came out of it over time but i felt worse afterwards than before because of the fact that I'd had to deal with it alone. I felt resentful of all the people who saw me say outright on my social media 'I feel really terrible and I need support/dont think I can deal with this alone/etc' and either said nothing or just briefly acknowledged it then continued on. I didnt really get over it, I just stopped in the same way a baby learns to stop crying eventually if nobody comes. So i came out of the breakdown with the resentful and anxious feeling that i cant really rely on anyone and am truly alone.
Now I'm so much more sensitive. Of course I'm more sensitive. I'm scared this is more permanent mental shit that I wont be able to get rid of. I cant stay like this forever. I never used to be this bad. But I had some outlets at least, and some hope that it might be different at some point. Now it feels like I'm just so worn out and I need to rest and be protected but the longer I go without it the more I need and the more impossible it gets and then I feel like theres no point in trying because theres no way to fix the cycle. Not without some anime-level miracle.
All I can do is drink and hope I get distracted by something else for a while. Hope I get chatty and confident enough to send the first messages and make the first posts, hope the audience happens to be responsive. Hope I come up with some kind of idea that'll keep me busy and entertained.
There was a day a few months ago where I drank a lot over the course of a day, and I started getting really bad palpitations where my heart was stopping for a few seconds at a time and restarting painfully. It especially stopped whenever I lay down and kept still, ie when I was trying to sleep. I thought I was probably going to die in the night so I wrote out a little note on my phone just in case. But I was kind of happy about it. For whatever reason, a few friends had been online and we'd all talked a lot, and I'd had things to do, and we talked about what we were doing throughout that day, and we all screwed around and shitposted, and it was just nice. It didnt feel so much like quarantine as just long distance friends and I felt like if that was gonna be my last day then so be it.
Of course, I didnt die. It turned out my meds needed adjusting so I did that and the palpitations lessened. I kind of wish I did just die. I guess it's morose. But it would have taken the guesswork and worrying out of all this. I'm just so tired. Its not that I dont want to get better and enjoy life. I just dont know if I can. I dont know if theres too much damage been done. I was already a difficult case before the pandemic but it's really fucked me over a lot and brought up a lot of old and new insecurities and I dont know if I'm really able to make the transition to something normal and okay.
My heart palpitations are bad again right now. Today it's because of restricting food. Theres some kind of weak heart trait in my family so I've always had the occasional palpitation, but they get bad sometimes. It's not painful right now, just weak. If I breathe too deeply it loses rhythm. I keep beginning to hyperventilate from anxiety and my heart gets irregular and weird. Of course as I say that I get some pain.
I dont feel like I can eat more though. I did have a meal for dinner. Low calorie, but a meal. So my calories for today weren't super low. One thing that's always consistent about my thing with food etc is the control element. That when everything is bad, I need something to go my way, and this is all I can do. I dont know.
Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow. Probably not. But I really want to. I really need to. It only takes small things, small distractions to keep me going. If I can just survive long enough to keep at some things to change my situation, maybe I can get out of this. But if I crack, I drink and binge and do other things that make me feel worse. I dont know. I'm trying to drag myself along but I guess it doesn't look like I'm doing anything at all.
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Finally Free || Orion, Nic, & Athena
TIMING: 12:30-1am ish, October 20th
LOCATION: Quinn Household, Harris Island
PARTIES: @3starsquinn, @athenaquinn, and @bountybossier
SUMMARY: Nic is a Dad.
CONTENT: Physical and emotional abuse mentions
“Athena? Athena. We have to do something.” Orion’s world had so drastically shifted that he had no idea how to feel. His brain was going haywire, feeling sick to his stomach and angry one moment before shifting to terrified and on the verge of tears. It had been over twenty minutes now. Orion only knew because he had been staring at the oven slowly counting the time for him. Twenty minutes of Orion silently kneeling in the puddle of blood collecting around his parent’s bodies. Twenty minutes of listening to Athena filter through her emotions in a rapid fashion rivaling his own. Twenty minutes of waiting for the world to stop spinning or asteroids to fall from the sky or for the bombs to go off. The world had to be ending, right? His parents were dead, one of them taken by Rio’s own hands. How did anything continue to go on after that? How was Rio ever supposed to walk again? Was he expected to go to school? To meet up with Blanche before work or hang out with Ariana and Layla? How could he kiss Winston ever again? Rio couldn’t picture anything besides kneeling on this floor, watching the oven remind him that it had been twenty-two minutes since his life had ended. Twenty-four. Twenty-six.
Thirty-seven minutes later, Rio remembered that moment of clarity when he had taken the knife from Athena. How everything had finally made sense. There were no other alternatives here. If Orion hadn’t done it, his parent’s would have killed them both and continued to take the lives of innocent people. This action had indirectly saved lives. There had been no choice. Only what had to be done. As far as morals had gone, it was the closest Rio had ever come to agreeing with his parents.
As far as he knew, Athena still hadn’t responded. “Athena?” Orion tried again, moving or the first time in thirty-seven minutes to look over at Athena. She was like an entirely different person. Not a single feature seemed recognizable even though nothing physically had changed. But the Athena he was staring at wasn’t the same as any image of his sister that he had seen before. “Athena. We can’t- I don’t know what to do. You’re the one that knows what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please.”
Her brother’s words were fuzzy. Just like when they’d gone swimming as children and he’d called out for her when she dove into the water and tried to hold her breath too much because there was a certain thrill that came coupled with being underwater for just too long. Athena sat, arms wrapped around her legs as she stared at the refrigerator. There was a Christmas card on it, one from last year. Their whole family was on it, and Athena could smell the pine needles, could smell the gingerbread that she never wanted too much of but found herself devouring anyway. She could taste it now - burning hot - and she felt the salt from her tears dried against her cheeks. She couldn’t focus. Her parents were dead. Her parents were dead by her own hand. Her parents had wanted to kill her brother for at least three years now and she hadn’t seen that. She kept staring at the photograph on the refrigerator, as if that would make everything better.
She didn’t want them to be alive again. The thought crossed her mind in passing first, before becoming more salient, more solid. Athena didn’t want her parents alive. She found that thought to be overwhelming. She’d never thought of a life without her parents. They were strong, they had made her strong. That was what they were supposed to do. Except they hadn’t. You broke us down and tried to mold us like we were clay or something. Her brother’s voice cut through her thoughts again and she dug her nails into her thighs. She had saved her brother. She was born to better the world, and her brother was the most important person to her. She couldn’t let him die.
She did what she had to do. Athena finally focused in on her brother’s words, unsure of how many times he’d called her so far. She glanced over to him, but she didn’t make eye contact. She wasn’t sure if she could. “I - I’m sorry.” She whispered, voice wavering. Turning away again, gaze intensely focused onto the refrigerator. “I - I can’t, Ri.” Lips barely moving, she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him.
Athena wasn’t fixing this. Why wasn’t she fixing this? That was what she did. What she had always done. Athena always took charge, always knew exactly what to do. When Orion wavered and began panicking, Athena always stood strong and knew exactly what to do. For better or for worse. Even when Rio hated the answers that Athena had to give, at least she gave them. So why was she silent now? He pushed himself up, his legs asleep and wobbling beneath him as he stumbled over to the counter, grabbing onto a towel and wetting them under the sink. He started with himself, scrubbing desperately at the blood that stained his hands. Of course it wouldn’t come off. Why would it? Even dead, he couldn’t escape his parents. After he had done the best he could he moved over towards Athena, crouching down to meet her and gently pressed the wash cloth against her arm in an attempt to begin wiping the blood away. “What do we do then? If you don’t- What am I supposed to do then?” Rio tried asking again, closer to her than he had been since they were children. Both literally and figuratively. And yet, Athena couldn’t make eye contact with him. And the words he spoke seemed to rebound off of her completely as if they had never even been said.
Nothing. If she couldn’t do this, then Orion didn’t stand a chance. Would anybody believe that this was justified? There was so much blood. So much violence. Self defense only took the two so far. People would realize that this went farther than that. If Athena didn’t do something then they had no chance, right? “I’m going to check your stomach, okay? I can smell the blood from when you were pushed down.” Without a reply, Orion took that as an okay and slowly pulled the side of Athena’s shirt up and pressed the soaked, bloody towel against it. As he wiped away the blood an image slowly started to become visible behind the wound. A tattoo? Since when did Athena have one of those? It took another minute before he realized what the tattoo was of. A series of dots symbolizing constellations. Orion. Rio’s arm fell down to his side as he stared at it. It was… simple. Not the usual grandeur that Athena loved so much. It was smaller and tucked away so it wasn’t on view for all to see. It was for herself more than anyone else. Rio had always known that Athena held a weird sense of dedication towards him, but never thought that she had actually cared enough to do something like this. “I uh- I didn’t know you had this.” Rio pushed away from Athena and slid back across the kitchen floor, not stopping until his back ran into the door handle of a kitchen cabinet. He was out of his depth, he knew that much. He had no experience with this and definitely didn’t have the stomach for it. How could he fix something like this? The logical steps flashed in his mind. Clean the mess. Get out of the house. Find an alibi. All of that was easy to say and impossible to accomplish by himself. But he had to try.
For a brief moment, Orion considered the possibility of leaving. Just standing up and walking out. Allowing his sister to handle the fallout by herself. But how long would she stay silent? She would talk eventually. She would feel betrayed. Rio couldn’t risk it coming back to him later. Leaving wasn’t an option, but staying wasn’t either. He had to do something. If he didn’t, both of them were screwed. But he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He needed someone. His body functioned without him, taking control and scrolling through his phone. Of course, he knew exactly who he needed to call. Someone that he could trust and that might understand. Before he had a chance to chicken out, he dialed. “Hello? I- I’m sorry to call so late. I need your help. Please. It’s really bad.”
The more Nicodemus worried, the less he seemed able to sleep. And fuck, was he worried. About everyone and nothing all at once. It was a wonder he hadn’t been paralyzed with it, the way it bunched his shoulders and tensed his jaw. It was worry that had him answering the phone after one ring and a quick glance at the caller ID. “Hey kid.” He had answered and then his voice petered off into silence as he listened. I need your help. He walked out of his room and went for his keys. Please. It’s really bad. Keys in hand, he ran to his truck. Ran towards something rather than away. The hunter cursed the machinery for not going fast enough as he tore over the bridge that connected East End to Harris Island. The smell of copper slammed against him as he stepped towards the darkened home. Manners went to the wayside as he strong-armed the front door open. The smell of blood was thicker in his nose. On his tongue. His brow furrowed as he shook his head.
“Rio?”
Nicodemus called out as he did what he had been raised to do: follow the blood. Right toward the kitchen as the flooring creaked under his weight. Fuck, there was a lot of it. His eyes didn’t linger on the dead. He knew lethality when he saw it and it didn’t take long to put two-and-two together. Those were his parents. His gaze, heavy yet quick with concern, went to the living. He breathed in and out slowly before he went to Rio. His sister was there and there was blood on her too. Wherever she was looking, wherever she stared off to, it didn’t seem to be anywhere in the four walls. “Kid,” he said as softly as his gravel-laden voice could manage. Tentatively, he reached a hand toward him but did not touch him. “I’m gonna help but...the hell happened?”
“I’m in here,” Orion echoed when he heard Nic calling out his name. The scene hadn’t changed since Rio had called him and begged him to come over as quickly as possible. Rio had moved from the puddle of blood that his father had left behind and was instead making new blotches of blood on the floor beneath his stained jeans. He had moved away from Athena who had barely moved from her near comatose state. The image left two dead bodies and then two kids in fetal positions on the kitchen floor trying to do anything but stare at their parents. There was so much blood everywhere. Rio did his best to clean it off of himself and Athena, but there was only so much he was able to accomplish on his own.
Orion’s heart sank at the concerned look on Nic’s face when he got into the kitchen. Getting a genuine look of care and concern was so foreign inside of this house that it was somehow more frightening than the sight of his dead parents just feet from him. “I-” How did he explain this? This was self defense, at least in a way it had been. Maybe it wasn’t completely necessary at the moment, but Rio knew what his parents would have done if given the chance. The only reason that they had even gotten as far as they had was because their parents had underestimated them. “They were going to kill us.” Rio settled on, “We had to stop them and then- and then it was too late to stop and we-” Rio stopped talking so that he could grab onto the counter top and use it to pull himself off the ground and onto his feet. Tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks but he couldn’t do anything to stop them. He just wanted Nic to make things better, maybe a hug or two. But he was covered in blood and didn’t want to get it on Nic too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t want to drag anyone into this but I don’t know what to do.”
Blood tracked on the floor like something wounded had passed through. As Nicodemus looked at Orion, he supposed something had. Even surrounded by the smell of copper and death setting in, the stressed furrow between his brow eased as he looked at Rio. Waited for him to talk. It wasn’t something that could be rushed. As the younger hunter talked, the older one fought the urge to say that it was better that they’re dead. It wasn’t what either of the siblings needed to hear and even he knew that, as corrosive as he could be. He went to Rio, a steady hand held out as the young man hefted himself up. There was blood on Rio’s hands, his shirt, everywhere. Nicodemus didn’t pay attention to it as he tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say that it would be okay or that it was going to be alright. In that bloodied house, it wasn’t right to say. “I gotcha, kid,” was what he said as he gently pulled Rio into a one armed hug. Not long ago, he had been there to assure another of White Crest’s youth that the world hadn’t ended. Nell. He didn’t have a blanket with him this time. When would this fucking town let them rest? “We’ll get this handled, alright? Not goin’ anywhere ‘til we do. Nothin’ to apologize for.”
He let go of Rio and crouched down by Athena. Nicodemus’s voice teetered toward soft as he spoke. “We gotta get rid of the blood. D’you…” His words trailed as he glanced back toward Rio. “Ain’t gonna rush but we gotta get started somewhere. Might as well start with you two. Sound good?”
She could hear voices. One of them was familiar - her brother. She knew that she would recognize his voice anywhere. Maybe it was a twin thing, or maybe it was just the general familiarity that came along with knowing someone for twenty-one years. Athena couldn’t place the other voice. Their parents were dead. She couldn’t breathe. She wasn’t sure if she could even talk, right now. She still had blood on her hands and on her shirt, despite the work that her brother had done. She could feel his steady hand against her ribcage, against her hip. She was supposed to help him. Why couldn’t she?
The back of her throat burned, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to be sick. She was so used to blood - used to anything others must consider macabre. Heck, she’d been perfectly fine in every single biology class she’d taken, and had been more than okay with watching her father perform countless surgeries. Athena couldn’t deal with the red on the floor now. Then the other voice was louder and right by her ear and she felt her hand fly up to her mouth, catching a would-be scream. “I - who - I…” she trailed off again. “Okay. I - it’s so red.” Goodness, what kind of first impression was she making? Could you consider it a necessity to make a good first impression when your parents were dead on the ground? “Yes. It’s important to take things one at a time.” Her voice sounded practically robotic even to her. “I’m - you know who I am, right?” She looked between the man and her brother, not quite making eye contact with either of them. “We have soap by the sink and more in a closet just down the hallway.” She went to go stand up but couldn’t, her legs far too heavy to move. She was supposed to be the one light on her feet, always. “I - can - Ri?” She looked over to her brother, making eye contact for the first time in she didn’t know how long. “You - can you?”
Without Nic here, Orion honestly wasn’t sure he would have been able to do anything. Dragging him into this was not what Rio had wanted at all, but it had felt like a necessary evil. Or maybe that was just selfishness. The part of him that knew what this could mean if the police had found out. The Quinns had been well respected around town. Rio had always been the weird, quiet one. Would it have been that much of a stretch to think that he had snapped one day? Rio had only just finally found a life worth living in. For once, when he was in danger he wasn’t ready to accept his death. He had too many people in his life that he lived for now. He had to try to protect that. Nic was one of those relationships that Rio found so precious. It was only strengthened further by the man’s quick arrival and agreeing to help just based on the small amount of information that Rio was able to relay. When Nic pulled Rio into a hug, Rio wanted to cry. It didn’t matter how the length or size of the hug. It meant everything to him. He couldn’t tell if he was repeating his thanks in his head or if he kept telling Nic thank you on instinct, but it was all that ran through his head.
Athena spoke, a complete sentence for the first time since their mom had died. She wasn’t herself, that much was painfully obvious. Who knew that when worst came to worst, Orion would be the functioning sibling? Of course, this situation was far different from any other that the twins had been through together. “Yeah- yeah of course I’ll grab it.” Rio grabbed for more rags and soap, turning the faucet on and leaving it on as he went back over towards Athena and Nic. “I- uh.. I’m sorry in advance, Nic. It’s not always a pretty sight.” Any hunter that had been working long enough would have their fair share of scars. But any hunter worth their salt would easily be able to tell the difference. Athena’s usual hunter wounds were different than they had been before. Rio could tell when he tried to tend to the hip wound she had. Without Rio there, they had taken out their frustrations elsewhere. Her wounds would be a mixture of battle scars from Fae and other creatures and their parents. Rio’s entire body was a mixture of scars and burns caused by the cruelty of two parents dissatisfied with a child’s behavior. His wrist still stung, but Rio gingerly worked his hoodie up and over his head. The long sleeve shirt beneath was wet from blood soaking through it. After a long moment of internal debate, Rio decided to discard that as well, crossing his arms together afterwards to try to cover as much of his torso as he could. He needed new clothes. Athena did too. But first he needed to keep wiping blood away.
Worry came in at the eyes as Nicodemus looked them over. Wounds and wounding. He knew the two well. And he liked to think he knew Rio well enough to know that he wasn’t big on the latter. As he took soap and rag in hand, the hunter looked at the bodies of their parents. His eyes narrowed and it wasn’t a Christian thought that passed through him. Then again, he hadn’t been much of one for a long time. It didn’t linger long. “Rio,” he said as he looked back. “Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for, kid. You or her.” There was no way to describe Athena other than shell shocked but she seemed to be making do. As much a child could after doing away with their parents. Hunter children had that way about them. Making do with the crosses they were born to bear. Older hunters hadn’t done shit all to fix that.
Cleaning blood wasn’t strange to him and he took to it easily enough, working through the spatters with what could have been a troubling efficiency if he wasn’t numbed to it. “You two weren’t here,” he said as he looked at Rio, then at Athena. He waved his hand and ignored the pink tinge his fingertips took on. “An alibi, alright? Gonna make y’all up one. You weren’t here. That sound okay?” It would have to be, he thought with a grimace.
She could hear their voices but they still barely registered to her. Everything was a haze and her head felt far too heavy for its own good. Her eyes flickered up at the sound of her brother’s name - though the voice was still unfamiliar. How did Ri know all these people she didn’t? Athena brushed her hands against her skin where her hip had hit the table, tracing the growing bruise. She could feel his gaze on her for a moment and she looked up, nodding. They couldn’t be here. She wasn’t involved in the law by any means but she knew enough about it. Knew how to skirt it to some degree, because some people found fondness in the creatures she killed, and if she wasn’t careful she could get into trouble that batting her eyelashes and pouting to the school principal or any number of her teachers wouldn’t get her out of.
“Okay. We were not here. We were - we - Ri doesn’t live here anymore.” She looked at Nic, right in the eyes, looked at her brother too, but she didn’t register the eye contact. “I have friends. I can -” she winced for a moment as her fingertips found a particularly tender spot of skin. Athena took in a shaky breath. “I’ve never had an alibi before.”
Orion wasn’t sure what he would have done with Nic’s help here. He didn’t know how to handle Athena like this. He was pretty sure that she was in a state of shock which was understandable. All things considered, Rio probably should be. Though as the initial shock had begun to wear off Rio had found himself feeling increasingly... normal. If anything, the overwhelming feeling that took hold inside of Rio’s mind was relief. But he wasn’t quite sure how concerned he should be about that yet.
“Right. Alibis are a good idea.” Orion nodded in agreement, already thinking who he could ask. It was crazy thinking about how many people came to mind, and how much had changed since he had lived in this house. He had Nic or Blanche or Winston to fall back to after this. He knew immediately that they would do anything for him, though he hardly wanted to put that stress on them. “It’s going to be okay,” Rio turned towards Athena in an attempt to comfort her, “We’ve had alibis our whole life. Covers for why we had to go home right after school and why we would disappear on weekends. Our twenty-first birthday just ended. It would make sense that you were out somewhere celebrating rather than at the house. Just find someone that you can trust, okay?” Tip swung back towards Nic, “I don’t know what the police are going to think of this. A home invasion, maybe?” Rio crossed his arms in thought as he pondered exactly what this scene looked like, because it looked personal. “In the basement. When police investigate they’re going to realize that my parents aren’t who they said they were. It’s... it’s pretty grim down there. Maybe they’ll think it was revenge?”
Nicodemus had barely ever needed to establish an alibi for himself, let alone for a pair of kids that had just murdered their abusive parents. Murdered. That was a word that had his heart thrumming wildly as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t murder. Self-defense. But he didn’t know how that would fly in White Crest. Rio didn’t deserve to have his life cut short because he protected himself. Neither did Athena. Not when they had severed the blood ties that tried to dictate how they were meant to live. What their lives meant. He met Athena’s eyes but could tell she wasn’t quite looking at him. That was fine. For now, distancing themselves from this however they could would work.
“Your birthdays?” The question came out slow. Uncertain. “Jesus fuckin’ Chri--Sorry, sorry.” Nicodemus didn’t swear in front of Rio. It had gotten easier over the months but with the smell of dead and blood in the air, it was hard. “Neither of you were here because you were out with friends doing birthday stuff like...like kids do. You weren’t here at all and hadn’t been most of the day.” They aren't kids anymore, he thought as he looked at them. They hadn’t been for a long time, he supposed. Childhood had a way of dying the moment your small hand curled around a knife hilt and you were told that death was the way of living. He knew he was a hypocrite to think it. “Can make it look like a home invasion, yeah. Kick the door in, break some stuff. Everyone has enemies. It looks enough like it’s personal.” Violent. Another word for it. A brow lifted as Rio mentioned the basement. “What’s down there?”
She wanted to back away from her brother’s touch, but she couldn’t. He was safe, and she had to believe that. He was all she had, in the end. Athena nodded again. “We’re twenty-one.” They were twenty-one, so why did Athena feel more like a vulnerable child than she’d felt in years? “We - Ri always - we always stay up in the last moments of our birthday together.” She shook her head, still not quite making eye contact. Athena wasn’t entirely sure if she could handle that. Someone she could trust. Her brother was the person she trusted most, but that wouldn’t work. The two of them would be too tied together, were that the case. Ariana. That was the only other option. She couldn’t come looking like this to her sorority house, and she and Ariana had a pact - to always be honest with one another. “I have someone.” She blinked, letting her breath slow down. Looked at her brother and mouthed - Ariana. Just so he would know. Just in case.
“Our parents…” wouldn’t have enemies, she wanted to say. Could Athena realistically say that right now? She wasn’t sure. She wanted to say that they were good, to say that they wanted to do good, and perhaps they had, in a certain way, but she also knew that they had just wanted to kill her and her brother, and had planned to try to kill her brother years before. That much she couldn’t forgive. “Down where?” She shook her head. “It’s - nothing. It's my dad’s - our dad’s workspace. He experimented. It’s - we watched, because it’s important to learn through practice.” She looked over to her brother, making a facsimile of eye-contact. It wasn’t quite there, not yet, but it was more there than it had been.
Athena seemed a million miles away. Orion didn’t know how to feel about that. The two of them were both victims, Rio knew that. But still he had always felt like the black sheep. Like his isolation was somehow worse or lonelier than hers was. But maybe that wasn’t completely the case. Rio didn’t have many friends growing up like Athena, but that meant that he didn’t have people in his life that he had to keep his entire life a secret from. That must have been just as lonely. Tonight, her ramblings seemed to speak to no one in particular. She spoke to Rio and Nic, but her voice drifted off as she said the words. By the end, when she talked about her parents it felt more like the same useless lines they had heard their entire lives rather than an actual explanation. Rio shifted eyes, meeting Nic’s before switching to give a concerned glance at Athena. Maybe Nic could help her get to wherever she was going after this. Rio was pretty confident that he could get back to his house safely and quietly.
Ignoring what she had said, Rio decided to explain himself. “My dad is- er well was a surgeon. He liked to… learn about Fae. Werewolves too, but mostly Fae. He would examine them. Try to find new weaknesses and ways to kill them. It wasn’t pretty. And there’s no way to clean it up. There’s a whole operating theater down there.” Rio didn’t want to clean up their mess. He wanted people to see them for who they actually were. Monsters. “Break some stuff…” Rio’s voice trailed off, imagining ways to sell the home invasion look. “Hold on.” He left the kitchen, sliding around the hall and into the garage, coming back with golf clubs that Athena and his dad would use when they went golfing together. Rio gripped one tightly in his hands, the only part of his body that seemed to feel much stress. Otherwise, he was eerily calm. “Where do we start?”
Athena seemed to be slowly coming back from wherever she had wandered to. Nicodemus thought it best to save any birthday wishes for a later time. Right then, with blood and scars out in the open, it didn’t feel right. None of it did but they were dealing with it as best they could. It is what it fuckin’ is, he thought. “Can get you to ‘em.” He nodded to her. They could figure it out later, when the scene was set and they were making their quick exits. As Rio explained what it was that was in their basement, his expression flattened. He had heard stories of hunters like that, the kind that liked to pick species apart in order to learn. He couldn’t say much. He picked them apart for a profit. So he didn’t say a thing. Not until Rio came back with a golf club in hand.
“Start from the outside in,” Nicodemus said. “I’ll go out, alright? You two can stay in here. Be back in a minute, alright? Ain’t leavin’ you.” The discomfort that filled him when he glanced at Rio and Athena, recalled what he had seen, was immeasurable. It wasn’t kind to wish ill upon the dead but he did and didn’t feel bad about it. Didn’t feel much at all as he wrapped a towel around his hand and opened the back door. The home looked like a home. The idealized kind. The kind that movies and television showed. The furrowed skin between his brows smoothed and he began to break. Quiet as he could but just as harsh.
“No - I can - I can drive.” If she was going to go to Ariana’s house, the very last thing she wanted was to bring another hunter there. As much as he was willing to help Athena and Orion, she didn’t know what kind of hunter he was nor anything else, and she didn’t wish to further compromise him by having him be seen with her outside of the home. “Thank you, though.” She added. It was critical to be polite to those in a position of authority. Her gaze found her parents’ bodies again and she seized up, coughing for a moment before she could refocus. That’s not respectful, a voice in the back of her head, one she didn’t recognize, told her. That’s a scandal. They only cared for you. “They wanted to murder my brother.” She spoke in response, her hand finding her mouth as she did so. That wasn’t supposed to have been spoken aloud.
“Okay.” She pressed her thighs together, the pressure reassuring in its own way. Watched the golf clubs come in, watched the other man pick one up, hand wrapped in a towel. No fingerprints, then. She felt herself jump as the sound of glass permeated the too-quiet air. Athena looked up at her brother, staring at him in much the similar way that she had when they’d been children. “He - how do you know him?”
Orion glanced at Athena when she spoke aloud, seemingly to herself. Everything about her demeanor was making him incredibly nervous. For anyone else, this was a totally normal reaction for someone whose parents had just died. This was the sort of shock and retreat that Rio expected himself to feel if he had ever been forced to take a life. It was how he felt when he had killed that troll. Was something wrong with him that a troll elicited a greater reaction from Rio than two human lives? But Rio knew what Athena was experiencing. That voice inside of her head feeding her self doubt. How did Rio try to fix that? He owed it to her after all, didn’t he? She was in this mess because of him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe she owed him now. Not that it mattered.
Even though Rio knew it was coming, he still jumped when he heard glass breaking. He breathed a heavy sigh, gently placing his hand on Athena’s shoulder to offer the only amount of comfort he knew how to give. “He saved me once. From a vampire. Since then we stayed in contact.” Nic meant way more than Rio could ever find the words to explain, especially to Athena. How did he explain to her that he had filled the role of a parental figure Rio had so desperately needed to his sister, who had spent her entire life idolizing two people they had just killed? “He’s a really, really good guy. He’s always there for me if I need him. And he’s here to help us.” Rio removed his hand, opting instead to grip tightly onto the gold club with both hands. He moved slowly towards the living room area and shrugged towards Athena, “Here goes nothing I guess.” Then he swung at their television, shattering the screen. But he was far from finished.
He nodded in understanding at Athena. The older hunter didn’t know what reassurances he could offer. Through words, at least. Those troublesome things Nicodemus had always been shit at. So he stuck to what he knew. Silence and breaking. Shattering. The art of leaving nothing behind when the next step was taken. It was the most he could offer the twins, other than his presence. Between it all, he couldn’t help but hear Rio. A good man. He had heard that before. Recently, even. He supposed good men helped cover up murders from time to time. Maybe that was how it worked. The concept of right and wrong was skewed, easily swayed. He went on breaking out the windows that led to the backyard. Broke them inward so the glass spewed out onto the floor. He climbed in and stepped over the pieces carefully. Looked over his handiwork and frowned. With heavy steps, he came to stand by Rio. Glanced over toward Athena.
“You’re...good too,” he said slowly. He took in a heavy breath. He glanced at the bodies again. They were likely starting to go cold. “Even with…” Nicodemus trailed. Shook his head. “You just are. Nobody gets to tell you otherwise. No one can take it away from you.” Their parents had tried to, he reckoned. Wanted them to be something righteous in the way that blood was shed. He frowned. Righteousness didn’t have a place in what they did or what they were. They just were. The way others just were.
She couldn’t help herself - each time she could hear the golf clubs collide with the glass she felt like jumping. She did her very best to avoid that, but the sound reverberated in her ears. This will help, this will turn suspicion away from us - she reminded herself, the mantra hardly reassuring. The sooner Athena got out of all of this, the better. At least Rio had known someone to call. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar and she felt like she was going to be sick all over again. “He’s here to help.” She repeated. She was going to have to lie to Oscar, because this would be all over the news in no time. She admired him, but what would he think if he knew what she’d just done? He doesn’t know what my parents did to me and my brother, Athena reassured herself. Everything will be okay.
She finally pushed herself up and off the ground, making her way over to the cabinets. Grabbed one of her favorite childhood mugs. Grabbed one of Orion’s, too - ones that they’d used for hot chocolate around holiday times. She threw each of them against the tiled floor, the shattering of china more satisfying that she would have readily liked to admit. Athena, for good measure, grabbed a few other plates and bowls, letting them fall over. “Collateral damage,” she murmured, “just for good measure.”
Breaking things came easily to Orion. Unsurprisingly, it turned out Rio had a lent of pent up anger to take out against the house that he had been raised in. Smashing things came way too easily to him, shattering the glass tv stand and the pictures and plants they had within the living room. It was completely destroyed within minutes, the shattering sounds from the kitchen proving that Athena had been able to help. They would have to do this to everything. They couldn’t leave their rooms untouched, or the basement. It would be a methodical process, but an important one.
When Nic came back in, trying to remind Orion that he was a good person, Rio could only nod. He didn’t feel like a good person, though he rarely did. “Thank you. Seriously, I don’t know how I could possibly repay you. Even if you won’t let me.” Rio smiled at him, a genuine one even if the mood didn’t exactly call for one. “I think we should move my dad’s body to the basement. If people think it’s a revenge plot then it may make sense for him to be down there. I don’t know this isn’t my forte, clearly.” Rio sighed. “Whatever we do. We need to get out of here sooner rather than later. Just to be safe.”
It was surreal watching Orion and Athena take to their childhood home like small storms. How often had Nicodemus thought of doing just the same damn thing? Of ripping through stone and crosses and molded wood like something unrestrained? Every day, he reckoned, if the wind went by just right and the sun was where it should be. One day. Maybe. His own storm might come calling home. The smile he returned to Rio was small. Tired. “Ain’t gotta worry about that right now. I’ll help you get ‘im down there,” he said quietly. “And then we better get. Ain’t tryin’ to rush but…” He glanced down at the bodies before he started to lift up the father. “Been here long enough and y’all ought to get somewhere safe.”
“You - I…” she felt her voice break as Athena heard them discuss moving the bodies. She really was going to be sick. She could count the tiles on the floor. She could feel her rings against her fingers. She avoided thinking about the smell. That wasn’t going to help anyone out. Her gaze found the Christmas photo on the fridge again and she felt a shudder crawl through her whole body. “We need to get somewhere soon. I need to - I have to pack a bag before I go. Not too much. We can’t - people are going to ask questions. We -” She bit her lip, pleading with herself to actually form coherent thoughts. God, what was she going to tell Ariana? She had to tell her the full truth, even though she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to explain any of this. “You - just don’t - be careful with the blood. If too much tracks people can tell that you moved a body.” She could hear her father repeating some of the same words, back when they’d trapped a fae together, the satisfaction and eagerness she had with the knife too much. Be careful, Athena, acting rashly may satisfy in the moment but will only serve those we seek to eradicate in the long run. “The police will search for that. So just - be careful, please?”
Orion nodded at Nic. He was right. The neighbors wouldn’t be awake for a few hours, but they were nosey. If they got up to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom they’d notice the lights on and remember it when the police started showing up. These people gossiped like crazy. Moving to help Nic, Rio heard Athena talk and paused. “Yeah- Good point. You’re right.” He moved towards her and lowered his voice. Not because he didn’t think Nic would be able to hear, clearly he could. But because Athena didn’t look like she could handle any higher volume, “Hey. You should go. Seriously. Nic and I just have a couple more things to do and then we are going to get out of here. Ariana lives farther away than I do. It’s going to take you some time to get there. Okay? We’ll talk later.” That wasn’t a promise so much as it was an unfortunate fact. The two would be called in and questioned by the police once the bodies were discovered. Rio and Athena would be seeing more of each other sooner rather than later. Giving a small wave and nod, Rio turned away from his sister and back to help grab onto his father’s body, already hoisted up by Nic. He avoided looking at his father’s body by studying Nic’s expression. Rio could never repay this man, but he hoped that Nic would still be able to see Rio the same. “Okay uh- let’s wrap up here so we can get out of here.”
#wickedswriting#c orion#c nic#chatzy#finally free#emotional abuse mention#physical abuse mention#// more soft!!!#lora and cody are delights#rio and nic are perfect
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Over the River and Through The ...
[Prior]
The second time, it was his hearing.
Moray groaned, and before he could even feel or understand that he had done so -- he heard himself. That low-belly roar of discontent that spoke to a desire to bludgeon anything nearby. And indeed, whatever was nearby seemed to have taken the hint, because he heard scuttling footsteps moving distinctly away from him.
But the scuttling had the sound of boot-heel and wood. That must mean he had not dreamt his prior awakening, and was indeed still aboard the mysterious barque. With a great strength of spite to buoy his motive, his willed his eyes open.
And saw a skeletal face staring down at him from a few paces away.
“.. Whoa! Whoa now, don’t give me that look. I’m not the one who woke up about eight-tenths too early on the voyage, alright? You’re the mealy son of a barnacle that can’t just take a nap, mate.”
Immediately, Moray rammed two fingers against his throat and swallowed -- but to no sensation. That is to say, no sensation either in swell of throat and saliva nor blood. He had felt the same many times before, doing the diligence of his post, as a First Mate should, when dredging up the drowned. Check the pulse, feel for the throat, pace the temperature and see if there’s a chance of saving.
There wasn’t any. He was dead.
The skeletal captain took another couple of paces back, hands raised in supplication. “Look, I realize this is probably not what you were hoping for after-life-wise, but I promise it gets better. Again, you really weren’t supposed to wake up yet. Generally speaking I prefer to let folks get their rest on the voyage over. Plenty of work to be done later and -- alright, probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. Again, usually you’re asleep right now. You definitely deserve the rest! Burning alive? I mean, wow. What a way for a sailor to go right? Kind of ironic if you think about it and … “
The skeleton paused in his rambling. It caused the deck of the ship to go ghostly silent. Appropriate, Moray thought in what vague sense of present mind he yet retained. Both unliving creatures stared at each other, and it was only then that Moray thought to look down at himself. Was he nothing but but bone and bare sinew as well?
… No, he was not. Although he was slightly more transparent than he remembered.
“.. You’re going through the ‘what kind of dead do I look like’ phase, right. That comes on pretty quick. Normally you’d be on a nice sandy beach, or on the pier, when those thoughts hit. But I guess you’re used to introspection on the main deck, right? Career sailor.”
Finally, Moray found it in himself to speak. The thought briefly terrified him to an extent he did not take any care for. There was a moment where he was concerned that whatever left him in this … state … would not be something he recognized.
“What the fuck is this?”
.. Ah, no. He still sounded the same as he remembered. That was something, at least.
The captain, bone and sinew and barnacle as he was, clacked his teeth together and nod.
“That seems like a fair question. I won't hold the foul language against you, mate. You’ve got kind of an awful hand stuffed in your drawers, so I’ll let a few swears slip.”
All around them still lay a perpetual fog. He took a glance around as the captain spoke, noting that it was all as he recalled from his earlier .. wakening. The vessel was true and sure, if old. A barque of some masterful make, riddled with the markings of many voyages. In truth? He found it quite comforting. If this truly was the afterlife, than he could think of few places more suitable or appropriate for him than the deck of a ship. Although it did beg many questions.
He looked back to see the captain already moving toward the helm, up the groaning stairwell of the port-side quarterdeck. Out of instinct if nothing else, he followed. The process was quite easy, he noted carefully. There was no familiar pull of muscle. Surely, some vague memory and vestigial sense of what he should be feeling was there. But while his legs part and placed as they had for decades prior, and his sea legs were still yet as keen as they’d ever been, he did not truly feel his thighs flex, or his calves press to surmount the stairs.
That would take getting used to. He only had eternity to adjust, after all.
The ship was entirely devoid of other .. ‘life’ .. for lack of better phrasing. It was only he and the skeletal captain -- what was his name again? ‘Bartlett’. He remembered that much before everything had gone black again. He resolved not to repeat that particular action. Fainting was hardly becoming of any sailor, much less one now settled to what looked like a damned afterlife.
He refused to consider the fairness, or unfairness, of where he was. Nothing to be done about it now.
At the helm, the captain turned about to face him. If a skeleton could grin sidelong, Bartlett did. His face -- what there was of a face, truly just bone and glowing sockets -- tilt underneath the boon of his tricorne and gazed at Moray. He didn’t find it as unsettling as he would have imagined. For a skeletal captain of what looked like his assigned life beyond life, the ‘man’, Bartlett, appeared quite … relaxed.
“Right. So, we’ll have to expedite the usual warm welcome. -- You are Emett Moray, son of Elizabeth and Montgomery Moray. Dedicated sailor. Naval instructor in the Wrynn military. Admiralty cadet. Chief petty officer first class under the Proudmoore expedition to Kalimdor. Aide to the construction of what became Theramore Isle, before it was destroyed. -- Sorry about that. -- And eventual employee of the Anchor Trading Company. Also your first boff was a pretty, red-haired lass named Winona. I’m sure I’m missing lots of important details, but I assume that’s enough that we can both agree that I’m not fudging the numbers here and am, indeed, the caretaker of your everlasting afterlife. -- Savvy?”
Moray could do little but stare, and give a grunt of affirmation.
Bartlett nodded once in return, and gave the ship’s wheel a ‘tap-tap!’ with his bony digits.
“Perfect, so we’re on the same page. Glad to hear that. I appreciate you saving your inevitable existential breakdown for later on, that’s honestly really helpful right now. -- I’m Bartlett, some call me by the surname ‘Blightnerve’. It’s frankly quite demeaning, but what’re you gonna do? The worlds are cruel. To be succinct, I captain this here vessel and am entrusted to grant good and fair passage to the honorable dead of the sea.”
Moray grunt again, an affirmation of acknowledgement. But in truth? He was starting to look about. There had to be more than one avenue of information available, even in the world beyond. He had done his share of training, and practice in earnest, at being held by enemy forces on sea and on land. Obey, abstain from overt action, and remain perceptive.
There was nothing but impenetrable fog beyond the vessel. He had already ascertained the make of it, although he did not yet know for certain what complement it bore beneath the main deck. This was the afterlife, it seemed. Who knew how spatial dynamics actually functioned when you were no longer constrained by such simple concepts as ‘time and matter’. He did not yet know. This could all be a test by the Tidemother to earn his proper death, after all. Perhaps if he was able to determine the trick at play and avoid damnation then the Mother herself would appear off the port-side bow and smother him to his appropriate demise in her enormous bosom.
... It was as likely as anything else at this point.
All the while, Bartlett kept on talking as he fiddled with the ship’s wheel in courtesy of some sight unseen.
“... Now normally I only take those who die at sea, but exceptions happen all the time. Now that I think about it, I really ought to stop calling them exceptions with the regularity of it … Basically, I take those who lived good lives in earnest connection to the sea. It used to be a really easy gig, honestly -- but things got a little .. uh, off lately. But hey, that’s nothing for you to worry about! We’ve got a bit of a voyage ahead because, again, you woke up early, but that’s no problem. You’re used to being on a ship, aren’t you? Simple! .. I’ve never actually had a crew aboard with me for the .. you know .. ‘sailing’ part, but we’ll figure that out. It’s not like you’ll get scurvy or anything, right? Haha! .. Because, as you’ve deduced, we’re both dead.”
Moray turned back to stare at him.
“Okay. Tough crowd, that’s alright. We can work on our interpersonal relationship later. Right now, it’s probably best if you just take awhile and get situated. Get used to your incorporeality and all that. Fog’ll be up for awhile so don’t worry about -- “
The ship jerked to one side, as if it had struck an iceberg. Even in the world beyond, unliving, Moray’s feet shift naturally to accommodate a swelling sea -- real or not. Speech was yet unfamiliar in his spectral throat, but he called out on instinct to the ‘captain’. … The captain, not his captain.
“-- What was that?!”
Bartlett dropped his bony jaw down, aghast. Somehow his brow, borne of nothing but kelp, gristle and calcium, managed to fall down in irritation. Both of his bony hands grasped the ship’s wheel with a fury.
“Are you kidding me? Of all the times!? -- I swear I had the course set AROUND the damn river!”
The barque jerked again, almost turning the main deck thirty degrees off center. Were it not for his intuition, Moray would have been hurled off the quarter and over the starboard side and into whatever unyielding abyss there was past the curtain of fog. But he did not have to wait long to learn what it was that yet lay beyond that precipice.
Bartlett howled once in a shrill tone that seemed to give the vessel to rising. Without crew or hand to trim, the barque obeyed the skeleton’s command. The unseemly fog part and revealed --
Had he any blood left in his veins, it would have ran cold.
Moray grasped at the port-side railing of the quarterdeck, staring off into the abyss beyond the ship. They were sailing over a vast nothingness, a resonance of energy that ran like ethereal water between motes of light. What phlogistic mass it was that buoyed them, he did not know. But it was clear that Bartlett did, as he cocked and crowed and howled in tremulous voice riddled with the workings of bone. The ship answered every call, rising and falling, shifting course to obey the great flow of energy beyond the deck. Moray could hardly begin to understand what he was looking at.
But then there was, as he had heard called from the crow’s nest so many times in his life, ‘land ho’.
Off the port-side of the ship, there was an enormous Tower, looming as if the end of days. It was so very far, but yet remained a presence to obscure all others in potency. Chains in the interstitial sea were clear to see as well, even by naked eye unbidden by spyglass -- and Moray did, on instinct, reach for his belt where he had kept his spyglass in life. But he found he did not need it. His senses were not the same as they once were.
Around the Tower, there were discarded landmasses. Sheer and broken rocks, held together by chains of some metalwork yet unknown to him. Between the greatest of the masses, there was some kind of .. intense river. A frothing mass of spectral sight, consumed with churning threads which felt uncomfortably familiar, even at such a distance. But the draft of the river echoed out beyond the chains and blackened shards of rock. It was a terrifying sight. A hellscape, in earnest.
And they were skirting the edge of it.
Suddenly, Bartlett was howling -- but not to the ship, he was calling to him.
“-- Hey! HEY! You’re a sailor, right? Get on the mizzen boom! Come on, come on NOW!”
There was not much choice in the matter. They were hurtling through the ephemeral space toward the edge of the great river, swollen with phantasmal masses. He skid down from the helm, and drove down the stairwell in three steps. Lightness of foot was something he could never have boast of, with his frame and Kul Tiran blood -- ‘drustblood’ as they had called it when he was a boy. But now? He was as agile as any halfskipper made of slight bone and sinew.
The blocks were empty.
“Mizzen boom, NO ROPES!”
Moray shout against the howl of the vessel’s unearthly keel, calling as he was trained.
Up above at the helm, as he feverishly held the ship’s wheel against what looked to be a great force, Bartlett rolled the luminosity in his sockets.
“Yes, congratulations on the observation, mate! We don’t need rope where we’re going! Will the thing to work! You’re not alive anymore, the rules are different -- don’t question it!”
Moray slammed his eyes to and fro, staring between Bartlett as he fought at the helm and the churning river oncoming that threatened to pull them into it’s wake and throw them down into the middle of those chains, chewing rock, and toward the Tower …
“How in the five-bottomed hells do I do that!?”
Bartlett’s bones sounded in the din of it all, grinding and chewing in a pitch that was eerily close to the sound of dogs slavering over the same scrap of femur.
“Just make it work, sailor! Don’t question it!”
Bartlett heaved his entire body to one side of the ship’s wheel, holding as hard as he could to keep the damned thing from turning the rudder -- and them -- toward the river of souls.
“Don’t QUESTION IIIIT!”
Moray stared at the block and tackle, absent of rope. He was quite an adept and capable sailor, indeed a reasonable engineer if push came to shove in nautical endeavors. But he was no wizard, no sorcerer or conveyor of shifting digits, wiggling to produce effect from ephemeral. But --
What other option was there but to try?
And so he did. Moray heaved whatever presence of spirit he possessed, incorporeal in part as his body was. It took a moment, tugging and gristling his teeth in spectral maw, but he eventually called up … something … to answer his demands.
The blocks of the mizzens’ boom came alight with threads of otherworldly energy. Like a rope, but yet so far apart. He found, in that moment, that it didn’t matter. He heaved.
The ‘ropes’ held true, surging with some scrappling of energy that seemed to flow directly from him rather than anything else. Not the captain’s calls and whistles which buoyed the ship hither or thither; no, the ropes came alive of his own ghastly accord.
Convenient, if unsettling.
But there was no time for diatribe, discussion or philosophy. He could figure out what in the Tidemother’s left tit was going on at a later date -- if one ever came. He heaved, and heaved, and the effort finally bore fruit as he heard Bartlett scream down from the helm above. Moray had been so engrossed in trying to be the specter of the mizzenmast that he had not even seen them cresting the river of souls below.
But he felt it -- the keel of the ship bucked and quaked in argument, but held true.
Like a dark riverstone over bubbling waters, they skipped across the frothing current of the otherworld, screaming and begging souls briefly audible.
“.. For Azeroth! .. “
Some distant, keening cry was almost muffled by the river’s denizens. But they were already over it before even a piercing eye could try to look far, far down the flow to see what had brought the voice. It was deep, and powerful. In the wake of the voice, behind them, the river backflowed and roared with a seething, shadowy power.
They had crossed just in time, it seemed.
“WHOOO! What a play! What a play! We’re over the needle’s edge now, WOO! I can’t believe that worked, haha! Maybe I need to start skipping near to Gorgoa more often, that swell is gonna have us home in no time!”
The captain crowed from the helm, and seemed ajoyed of their daring flight. Moray’s mouth sauntered to side, and he could not find himself agreeing with the sudden joviality. What had just happened? What was that river -- and what Tower did it pass so near of?
The voices, all so brief, were not sounds he would soon forget.
But they were coursing strong, the sails filled with whatever phlogistic winds were surging in the otherworldly night. All around them, as the blackened stone, Tower and river behind were becoming little more than a blip in the non-existent horizon, there was darkness. A night sky of a different kind. He found it to be, oddly, not unlike the artistry and renditions he had read of in reference to the Twisting Nether. But there were no words for the colors he now saw.
Thin, stippling threads of graceful energy sunken to some dim blue, moving in helices. Bright motes which glimmered in varying hues as if trying to communicate, like some deep sea creatures innumerable. Driftwood of a different sort; hunks of stone and earth and swollen moss which were vast in their alien flora. A few even bore single specimens, an albinistic animal here or there, half-real, staring back at him before they would pass at-speed.
He had to pause, and take a step away from the edges of the ship. Back to the familiar.
But before he could really try and take stock of what had happened -- what was happening -- he heard Bartlett’s voice cry out from the helm once again. He looked back to behold the skeletal captain, and received a nod in tandem to his words, ushering him to look a-bow.
“That swell gave us a good speed. Take a look, mate, we’ve got you home ahead of schedule.”
And Moray looked where he was bidden, toward the bow of the ship -- ahead.
Through the churning sea of the afterlife, the in-between of realms made from all kinds and for all kinds, there was a single and minor port of harbour ahead of them. Truly, it was -- a breach in the darkness between ‘worlds’, swollen with the sunlight of late morning. A crescent island as any other he could have named from Azeroth, large enough to house a small, coastal township and a stalwart port with one singular, powerful dockhead.
It looked like paradise.
Bartlett rested against the ship’s wheel, the work of the voyage done as they sailed gently now toward the crescent of safe harbour before them.
“.. Welcome to Haven, mate.”
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Which 4 star would you recommend? 🤔
Sorry for the late reply since I’m currently studying a part-time course on the weekday ^^;
I’d say it’s always boil down to what you really need the most in your party? A particular class like Saber, Caster, Extra Classes? Or more of, DPS, Tank and Healer? If you’re going for husbando/waifu, again, all the following above are irrelevant and just grind for QP. Because raising a waifu/husbando isn’t cheap
I’ll put the rest under the cut for Servants (sort by classes), numbering are based on what I used most or feels good which is debatable before anyone starts murdering me. And also some I have yet the chance to try because they are not home for me after rolling/i didn’t pick them at all
Sabers:
ST NP:
Lancelot
Yagyu Munemori & Rama
Diarmuid Saber
Papalot will always be my number one no matter who says, and been saving my ass in both FGO JP and NA. His own skill alone is summary of enjoying hearing him crit his enemies to death. With support like Tamamo and Castoria, he makes the pain twice as fun :D
Unfortunately for all his attacks, he’s your glass canon. So you don’t have either of the two support or just any support in general, he’s going to die ASAP. Munemori’s 2nd and 3rd skill are a headache with them being mixed together, especially that Evade + increase attack
Munemori is the one I feel should actually be on par very closest to Lancelot with both sharing the same NP type. In terms of surviving longer, this old swordsman is your choice. But in terms of consistent attack, it’s Lancelot.
Oh my sweet Rama, while I’m sorry DW is a dick in putting your wife in Arcade (BECAUSE FUCK YOU DW, THAT’S WHY). You’re worth to grind and have on par with Munemori. So far in LB whether or not having any Demon enemies, his damage especially on crit is as good as Lancelot. But unortunately, this skill is a one-time effect, so need to know when to make use of that burst to kill your Boss. Lastly, he’s got the Guts in terms of own survival kit.
As much as a husbando you are my dear Diarmuid... You’re also fucking expensive in terms of grinding 180 stakes to raise you. NP damage is good which is unfortunately held back that your defense buff removal comes AFTER dealing damage to your enemy. He’s more in need of a good support like Skadi to put him to his fullest potential (or heck hell you might as well take Caesar since he does better than him being in the same NP quick category)
AOE NP:
Artoria Alter
Siegfried
Suzuka & Nero
Gawain
Artoria Alter being first aside story-locked, her damage output for me is the highest among all I have used just using her skills alone. But may or not need strengthening to upgrade Intuition, have her more crit-based attack? (dude, everyone getting their intuition replaced.)
Siegfried ranked higher to me because he’s still hits hard enough in my opinion to replace AOE saber that I don’t have such as Artoria Alter in JP. However, he’s still easily replaceable once you got better AOE Sabers. And, you’ll still want him in some event and main story mobs where dragon-type enemies show up.
Compared the two above after using Suzuka, she’s definitely ranked third with lower NP damage. Charm, well, may or not work but LB debuff immunity is saying otherwise for all male servants. But her skill of generating her own stars help her in criting and gaining NP slightly more faster.
For Nero’s case, she’s more on survivalist skill thanks to her 3 times Guts skills. Arts AOE NP Saber are limited until you get budget Jason next year which, yeah, Jason works better than her if you want NP damage. Her attack boost is based on RNG probably either want to love or have hate sex with you to get that buff out. Again, if you want more of surviving long duration fights in LB thanks to break bars, she’s your good choice.
While Gawain is story-locked issue too, he’s heavily reliant on his skills. Which those skills are also can be highly reliant on field to be Sunny before strengthening. But charging of NP will take a long while with his current deck set, so you’ll need a better support or AOE Saber to do the work
Support:
Chevalier D’eon
If you haven’t grinded Georgios or Leonidas, they are your best replacement for tank support. The two I mentioned will do a far more better job than D’eon, aside wanting their NP to debuff.... Which unfortunately also not that useful in current LB difficulty, too many servant bosses are putting up debuff immunity.
Archer:
ST NP
Chiron
Tomoe Gozen
Emiya Alter
Tristan
Chiron-sensei as per his lore is more of a support due to his skills revolving mainly in supporting your party. Castoria and Tamamo may or not fix with his damage output but you definitely want that remove defensive buff which comes BEFORE dealing damage at your Boss enemy.
Tomoe’s burn debuff makes her one of Arjuna Alter’s best friend if you’re aiming for him in the future. But aside from that, her skills are quite generic of attack + np damage buff, crit gather and drop (lacking of crit dmg to make her good on her own right) and guts to survive. However she isn’t story-locked, so if you can wait for her to spook...
Emiya Alter: I haven’t tried what’s the changes aside increased in damage output with Castoria. But he’s more of a staller in removing enemy gauge by 1 and if you have those annoying enemies with tons of defense buff, he’s your Servant against to fire a hole in them. Only issue his normal version Evade and star drop rate is gone and replace with a defense buff, so may or not need support to keep him alive
For Tristan I didn’t put him high because if you have David, he’ll do a more slightly better job than him? Reliant on Skadi if you have her to boost his damage for NP, which... If you’re doing NP charge from his skill, do remember he has that unfortunate debuff of NP seal that blocks him from using NP during or not the same turn. Though if you’re getting him to complete your Knights of Round Table Servants collection urgently and not caring about gameplay, go ahead :D
AOE NP:
Mama Emiya
Atalante
Now that’s my mom who raised me :D But anyway, Emiya’s investment especially 2 years later with that one last NP strengthening, he’s a nightmare of Arts AOE Archer once Castoria joins into the party. Right now before strengthening, he still crits hard in single attacks with his own star generation + also having evasion to survive.
Without Skadi especially, Atalante both damage output of normal and NP is very weak. Her NP more or less served as a function to gain a one-time burst of 60+ stars. But if you have Skadi and your friend support does, then get her for one of your Quick Archer Servant farming if you don’t have her.
Lancer:
ST NP:
Li Shuwen
Vlad III EXTRA
Medusa Lancer
Li Shuwen will be one of decent choice Arts Crit Lancer before Kagetora kicks in next year. A good burst of his NP helps to kill your enemy Boss ignoring that he also have a instant death NP. Though said burst is relying on both 1st and 3rd skill which... they should have just kept either one (preferably ignore invincibility) and pointless for them to stack. 2nd skill however is ok with your evasion to survive and increase star gather rate.
Vlad III EXTRA’s NP... Pretty much gonna see more Evil Servant in the future so he’s good to keep around. And that ignore invincibility is good until DW being a dick and put Archer Servant with Solemn Defence in the future LB. Despite lacking skills to survive, he has his own HP recovery that also buffs his defense and attack. And a decent taunt if you haven’t got Leonidas ready, for 1 turn. Though damage output you’ll need support like Merlin to increase.
Maybe just me without Skadi, Medusa Lancer ranked low due to her damage output. But having Skadi will increase her rank with 1 skill keep her alive (invincibility + guts), 1 skill to stall (charm and provided it’s male servant), and 1 last skill for one-time burst in attack.
AOE NP:
Parvati & Artoria Alter Lancer
Valkyire
Fionn
Elizabeth Bathory
Nezha
Artoria Alter Lancer being another Servant who like her Saber, does well in her AOE NP damage. And a good debuff of NP seal to stall + def buff ignore damage. However trying to gain NP for her is problematic if you don’t have support like Merlin to do so.
Parvati will be one of the many Servants recommended to have if you’re going for Double Skadi farming. She’s got good NP refund and good support to other Servants. But make sure your Skadi or support having a star generator CE to get her loop going.
Like Parvati, you’ll need Valkyire if you already got the former for double Skadi farming. She’s more on a defensive in surviving if not use for farming, and definitely Skadi regardless to improve her damage performance. Beside that, her NP is applied with good buff such as ignore evasion and instant death for demonic enemies (excluding them working on enemy Servants)
If you’re aiming for Castoria next two years, Fionn is one of the Servants to invest for farming. And latest strengthening has upgrade to give more of NP charge to himself and your party. His own NP buff to mental debuff immunity is good to prevent him from being stun like charm, etc. However if you’re in need of Rare Prism and any other reason or so, feel free to burn him.
Elizabeth doesn’t rank high since she’s more support and debuff oriented Servant than damage. Support being attack that gives additional boost to female servants and debuff lower defense and curse. Unless you’re urgent to complete your Eli-chan collection, she’s not in a hurry to get and can spook anytime.
While Nezha has a good skill kit of own Quick + Buster buff, increase star weight and remove debuff, and guts + NP charge.... Most of her skills are best used if they are at max level. And even at max level, her low NP damage isn’t that a viable choice with better AOE NP Servants above be it farming or attack.
Rider:
ST NP:
None of the above
This is the only rare case I really don’t recommend getting, especially mary and anne. The two are definitely meant to be glass canon which unlike Hijikata, there’s no guts for them to survive if you want to utilize their NP at its fullest. Welfare and 3 star like Ushiwakamaru and Ryouma, Mandricardo in the future does a better job than her.
AOE NP:
Astolfo
Martha
Marie
In terms of damage output among the 3 Riders, Astolfo hits hardest and also perfectly compatible with double Skadi farming. Has 2 rank up on strengthening their NP and 3rd skill to improve farming performance. However outside farming, they definitely still need Skadi to keep that performance.
Martha is one of the more recommended Servants when it’s come to Challenge Quest. Mainly her instant team debuff removal and enemy buff removal targetable, and additional healing. Damage output may be easily fix with Merlin and Waver to deal more. But, as of now her status whether being useful is debatable as most LB debuff on your team are permanent thus rendering her to rank lower.
Despite sharing the same NP type, Marie ranks lower using more of a support for herself and her allies on her damage. Her NP buffs while it’s provide good support, it can easily be replaceable with either Jeanne, Merlin, Waver, etc. But if you’re not concern for her and already got Astolfo, you can still get her to invest on Quick farming. Or raise Medusa who could do about the same like Astolfo...
Caster
ST NP
Queen Sheba
Circe
Sheba while story locked, she fits well in both support and own DPS of herself for CQ and in LB. NP damage may be concern but having Tamamo and Castoria will makes up for it, especially in surviving for long fights. Her excellent NP gain with good crit buff helps her to refund NP easily for spam.
Circe while provide good support (debuff removal and star gather) and debuff (poisoning AOE), she ranked lower from a few things. One being very bad NP gain (if your NP charge skill on CD), low NP damage which can be compensated with good support, and debatable stun NP effect. If you already have Xuangzang or Caster Shuten, you’re better off with them.
AOE NP:
Nitocris
Caster Gilgamesh
Nursery Rhyme
Helena
Thomas Edison
Nitocris ranking top for her being the best farming Servant to have, and remained that spot with now Castoria boosting her damage. NP Charge skill at full 100% when needed, increase death chance (can be RNG and not effective with some enemies) and Guts + Buff removal making her a Servant recommended to have. And of course being the best.... You’re gonna need to offer her 180 bones of your dead enemies to upgrade her skills to the max, making her one hell of an expensive material grinding Servant to have.
Caster Gilgamesh with wisdom now considered one of the recommended Arts Support Caster if you don’t have Tamamo or Castoria. While damage can be lacking, his NP debuff of lowering defense helps your other Arts DPS to crit to death thanks to his skillset. Despite that, he still additional support and composition which preferably best work when the team deck in total has higher percentage of Arts cards.
When paired with the right team, Nursery can be one of the good damage dealing and staller for AOE Caster. The latter however is RNG dependant which praying it works in your favor. She also have good NP refund and self-charging with her skill making her easily spamming her NP. But she’ll need good support to boost her damage and star generation to utilize her.
If you still haven’t gotten Waver and willing to wait for that SSR ticket in the future, she’s your alternative with all cards type buff, 20% NP gauge charge and own crit star generator. NP deals good damage, which further improve with either Tamamo and/or Castoria. However, many may turn away of choosing her because of notorious long skill cooldown even at max level. Also if friend support already got your main 4 or now 5 support of Caster, you’re better off with other Servants unless you want her for farming.
Thomas gonna need his strengthening to increase his rank here, mainly that 1st skill to reduce skill cooldown which is targetable. While his NP and normal damage is weak, he makes up by being the best stalling support (provided no debuff immunity), having skill seal, NP seal to stall enemy Servant. 3rd skill of his provide a good buff to your main DPS to overcharge their NP level. And, also being a story-locked servant some may consider getting him if you can accept the long cool down (2nd skill at 10 turns CD on max level) on his skill.
Support
Medea Lily
If you’re wondering who is the White Mage/Healer in this game, that would be Medea Lily. Pure healing + Debuff removal and now a targetable buff removal resist? That’ll be her where many sought her in Challenge Quest. But her skillset is overshadowed easily by your Top 5 Caster (Merlin, Waver, Skadi, Tamamo & Castoria) who can do those said job if not better than her.
Assassin:
ST NP:
Yan Qing & Emiya Assassin
Wu Zetian
Carmilla
Chiyome
Yan Qing while I put him first, he can easily replaceable with Jack who does better star generation. Or pair them to generate even more stars while you watch them burn your potato phone. His recent skill upgrade increase his damage making him more usable in fights, but will still need Skadi to invest him well.
Emiya Assassin, with good NP damage buff like Ignore Defense + Invincibility and NP drain, own Arts buff, and targetable taunt, he’s one of the recommended Servants for Arts DPS with Castoria when she’s out. And especially needing Castoria because of his horrible Arts card NP generation... If you got Shiki who’s doing better along with Hundred face Hassan, you’ll want them for damage and own survival kit.
Wu Zetian would be in line with Kiritsugu if not better for damage, but is heavily reliant on her Imperial Privliege RNG to work with her. Skadi support and buff removal NP makes her one of the recommended Assassin Quick NP DPS to pick if you’re lacking..
Carmilla is low rank while despite having good NP gain, charge and own healing with a staller..... You’re better off having other Servants like Wu Zetian. Or even Jack who does more better than her on the Anti-female damage.
Chiyome definitely her low damage despite NP spam and charge, make her least wanted for SR ticket. Even NP seal can be ineffective with those having debuff immunity, which many other Assassins are doing their job including the 3 stars one.
AOE NP:
Katou Danzo
While waiting for Gray next year, Danzo is your currently only 4* Assassin with more on the support side. Having both targetable evasion and invincibility, she can keep either DPS or support Caster against enemy on their attacks and NP. AOE damage may not be boost a bit with the help from said support caster, unless your enemies are demon to work against.
Support:
Stheno
Aside additional Rare Prism to exchange, Stheno acts more of a support if you want to challenge yourself with a Divine Servant theme in CQ, etc. She along with Gorgon Sister are known for their notorious Charm Lock in CQ, and NP now easily spammable to remove buffs on enemy. Stheno together with Euryale is why Gawain is having nightmare every night ever since his humiliating defeat in Camelot. But in terms of damage output, you definitely want alternative Servant than her. And support wise, you’re also better off with others if you’re not that into Divine team routine.
Berserker:
ST NP:
Heracles
Penthesila
Beowulf
Atalante Alter
Ibaraki
Aside being bias because that’s my boy I raised and grailed him, Heracles will be your number 1 must have Servant to have for all Master. One of the best surviving Servant for long fights, may need a little boost from support Caster. His investment to get Bond 10 will be a long while but will definitely be worth it once achieved. Now, with the latest strengthening his Guts Skill and own CE makes him the monster on why Lancer ga Shin Da and Emiya in Saber Route one of a nightmare to fight with.
Penthesila while ranked second despite lacking of Greek Males (doesn’t include Achilles avoiding her), she provide a good Buster support for all team, own NP charge and debuff immunity for herself that brings out a high NP damage. However, without Merlin... She’ll die before finding and killing Achilles.
I swear to god DW has a grudge against you, Beowulf. But hey, after his strengthening next year, good bye intuition, hello Inspired Hero that increased crit damage and gather rate! If you’re looking for a more general damage unlike Penth, he’s your boy. High NP damage and Guts to keep him in the game longer, but requires support to boost NP gain and normal damage.
Like many other Quick Servants, Atalante Alter is Skadi compatible. A ST NP with staller and curse debuff, her own crit generation, gather and damage allow her to produce good NP damage. Yet like all Berserker she falls harder in terms of glass canon like lacking of survival skills. Her critical dmg is hard to maintain with her 1st skill merely providing her a one time burst.
Probably the one Servant who fits truly as a glass canon is Ibaraki, NP damage can be comparable with Heracles, Penth and Beowulf. Removing own debuff and enemy buff is a good thing, but defense buff alone may not save her from enemy Servants who hits the poor banana like a truck. NP gain may also need boost from support due to her triple BBB in her deck.
AOE NP:
Lancelot Berserker
Frankenstein
Tamamo Cat
The most recommended yet also possibly need additional whaling is Lancelot Berserker. The moment Skadi appears, he’s on the top list of having in party to do farming. Own NP create large amount of sum and massive crit boost helps to refund NP. But, without Skadi and needing NP2 at least, he’ll be ranked lower.
Frankenstein will be your alternative to berserker Lancelot if you already have him. But like Berserker Lancelot, you’ll need Skadi to do the looping. Her own NP Damage boost and increase gain helps for the loop, but unfortunately you’ll need Servant with debuff removal to remove her stun after using her NP. Aside farming....You’re gonna want other Servant to save her from getting killed within few turns.
Tama Cat aside being one of Chaldea main cook, she’s more utilized for farming after abusing poor Waver and Caster support. And poor Waver everyone will have to do their best to protect Tama Cat who took a few turns of napping (stun) after using her NP. Beside that, she does provide an RNG of NP drain and own defense and attack boost. However other than farming, you’re better off with other AOE Servants for survival.
Avenger:
Situational between Gorgon or Hessian Lobo
Because a Ruler enemy is very rare to find aside coming LB3 without mention spoilers on who, it’s more or less situational. Do you want for the sake of it? Want to do your own CQ rules to experiment against? If so, AOE or ST NP?
AOE being Gorgon where she got a a decent AOE NP Damage with a stun but definitely need support to survive (guts may not be sufficient) and star generation. She’s also story-locked which if you want to get her before Babylonia, might as well do so.
Hessian Lobo is compatible with Skadi and alternative if you don’t Avengers like Jeanne Alter. Good crit gather for 3 turns with Skadi or any other Servants provide star generation. NP damage has own boost of ignore evasion and additional crit damage, excluding your instant death. While having buff removal is one and atk decrease, your death resist is still ineffective on enemy Servants boss.
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any combo of Law/Cora/Doffy for both/either ship asks
ship ask memes: 1 | 2
gonna throw all this under a cut bc 1. spoilers and 2. people who do not vibe with these can just scroll on by easily
first off yes i ship all combinations oh my god
What made you ship it?
as soon as i knew there was some Fuckery going on between law and mingo, i was 👀 because i just. love whump esp law whump and god that dynamic is full of it
doflacora for similar reasons, like. it’s just plain fucked up and i knew i was gonna be into it before i even met roci. regardless of the label on their relationship, their whole dynamic is just So Terrible and Tragic and i am here for it. we love angst in this house
i had a feeling i’d ship coralaw before i even met roci, a couple of my friends were like “UR GONNA LOVE CORALAW” before i’d even read the flashbacks and they were CORRECT
and all three of them started JUST A TAD BIT out of spite bc people being like “this is Bad” or complaining about a ship just makes me curious (tho i actually really genuinely enjoy them aside from the spite and am trying to channel it into positive things instead of just getting upset over people being mean)
What are your favorite things about the ship?
doflaw: the HISTORY they have, it makes for such an interesting and fucky dynamic and i feel like a lot can be done with that
doflacora: just the terrible mess of mingo being this irredeemable villain yet his little brother still believes he can change and still cares about him and then he just fuckign kills him in cold blood and goD
coralaw: LAW GETTING THE HAPPINESS HE DESERVES
Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
that they are all good and valid ships and i love them dearly <3
i’m gonna do the rest of the asks for coralaw bc that’s the only one that i could write in a remotely functional or healthy way here we goooo
PRE-RELATIONSHIP
How did they first meet?
oh there’s so many possibilities. i can Definitely fuck w an idea closer to canon where roci met law in the context of the family, maybe they left together and everything actually worked out okay, and once law got older they came to terms with their Feelings.
but i also like modern aus where they meet when law’s already an adult, like maybe roci works somewhere and law keeps coming back or he’s a teacher or (like i enjoy with every law ship) they meet because roci is injured or smth and law has to do his Doctorly Duties
What was their first impression of each other?
god u know it was not great in canon
i like friends to lovers with them. or like. at least friendly acquaintances to lovers. they get along well (once law gets over,, maybe his initial impression that roci is just a clumsy dumbass) and the other Emotions come later
Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?
gjfkdg mingo is Not happy with the arrangement, though i’ve read a couple fics where the family dynamic is a little nicer and he encourages it and i’m into that too
Who felt romantic feelings first?
law definitely, maybe he didn’t realize what it was at first because he was just a little kid but it makes more sense as he grows up
Did either of them try to resist their feelings?
YES <3 i am so here for the “oh god i’m old enough to be this persons father i Cannot be attracted to them” trope and that has so much potential with this ship (tho their age gap isn’t actually that big??? what is it like 13 years idk roci can still suffer)
If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?
i feel like law would be very >:( about the concept of soulmates and maybe roci would have a crisis but they’d work it out eventually
What would their lives be like if they had never met?
well uhhhh if u really think about it law would probably be dead and roci might be alive so. hm.
but i do think roci really like,,, Fixed law. like he showed him that there are in fact things worth living for, and even if they didn’t spend a Ton of time together, he still had a huge impact.
GENERAL
Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?
i feel like law would have to do it bc roci would be too concerned about overstepping boundaries
Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?
i don’t think it’s anything Official like they hang out anyway and then one day it just clicks
What was their first kiss like?
law initiating it in the heat of the moment
Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?
oh i love the idea of roci being law’s first Everything
What’s their height difference? Age difference?
ROCI’S SO FUCKING TALL but even i a modern au i’d probably put him at like 6′5″ or taller
and i think they’re 13 years apart yeah
What’s their relationship with each other’s families?
sweats next question
Who takes the lead in social situations?
i think roci is def more friendly and extroverted so probably him
Who gets jealous easier?
i feel like both of them are pretty laid back?
Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?
law,,,he likes to egg him on
LOVE
Who said “I love you” first?
roci for sure
What are their primary love languages?
in most law ships i like the idea that law shows love thru gifts, i think roci is just very affectionate but maybe also does the same
Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?
roci and law HATES IT
How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?
law isn’t big on pda but sometimes he tolerates it
Who initiates kisses?
roci mostly
Who’s the big and little spoon?
law is the little spoon but sometimes roci is too
What are their favorite things to do together?
fuckin they like to cuddle and watch movies :’)
Who’s better at comforting the other?
roci is better at comforting law naturally
Who’s more protective?
roci,
Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?
law’s more verbal, roci is more physical
What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?
heart-shaped hologram gives me A LOT OF FEELINGS
also. for some reason i’m feelin in the best case scenario we’d die at the same time
What kind of nicknames do they call each other?
not rlly a nickname but i like the idea that law is short for lawrence and roci calls him that sometimes and he HATES IT
also cora in itself is a nickname ig
Who remembers the little things?
hmmm i’d say they’re both pretty observant but maybe roci moreso
DOMESTIC LIFE
(taking out questions about marriage/kids bc i do not think so)
Do they have any pets?
i just wanna give everyone a cat
Who worries the most?
law probably, but roci worries about law so it all evens out
Who kills the bugs in the house?
law
How do they celebrate holidays?
mostly quiet celebrations at home
Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?
law,
Who’s the better cook?
law, roci isn’t allowed in the kitchen after one too many burns and fires
Who likes to dance?
ROCI, law does not care for it
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okay so I've never, like, posted writing on here, but now I'm going to. this is for day 4 of valgrace week, 'memories'. i wrote it like an hour ago because i forgot i didn't have anything for today. its on ao3 too if yous wanna see it there. warnings for descriptions of a panic-attack and a character (not) dealing with grief below the cut. hngbhd?
what remains (1454 words)
Leo’s always had a good memory.
He can recall what people have said months after the fact, remember the way someone acted strangely on a particular Sunday afternoon. He can remember entire conversations and pieces of useless information he’s picked up off of Jeopardy. He remembers the exact texture of his mom’s favorite jacket and the feeling of her calloused hand dancing through his curls.
Leo remembers a lot.
Wilderness fucks with that.
Because on one hand, he remembers all of Wilderness. Him getting picked up in New Mexico, the court deciding he probably wouldn’t survive in Juvie, the stale, pine smell of the social worker’s car that drove him to Wilderness, the way the school stood out in Nevada’s neon blue sky and vast plains of nothingness. He remembers getting his room and his roommate (or was there a roommate at all?) Jason Grace. He remembers Piper McLean and how close they all got, so quickly, even though Leo was used to keeping his distance, keeping people at arms-length because people were cruel and impossible and Leo preferred not to be hurt, thankyouverymuch.
On the other, they’re fake. False. Jason was never his roommate and Piper and Jason were never a couple and there was never a PiperLeoJason at Wilderness.
Leo remembers fake fucking memories in perfect clarity.
Leo doesn’t know if it’s eidetic or photographic or whatever, but he’s never bothered to give it a name. And it doesn’t work well with reading, mostly things Leo’s heard and felt. So Leo can remember the feeling of his childhood bed under his legs and the TV playing lowly through their apartment, but he can’t tell someone the first thing about what happened in their last Lit class.
It’s a bitch, to be honest.
He rubs at his eyes and bites down on the urge to scream.
Leo has an elephant’s memory and so, he remembers Jason Grace like he was the last face Leo ever saw.
Jason, obviously, was pretty handsome. Blond, blue-eyed, pale- he had the whole All-American white boy thing going on. At first, that put Leo off him. Dude looked like he was ripped straight from an Ivy Leauge college brochure. And then he opened his mouth.
Jason Grace was kind, and weird, and really, really awkward, though he tried to cover it up. He was straight-laced until Piper or Leo convinced him to let loose a few times. He was considerate and loyal and a good fucking person. A rarity, in Leo’s life. Sure, he was raised by wolves and he didn’t really get the mortal world, but who gave a fuck, because he was Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, and Leo’s best friend.
Another downside to Leo’s never-ending, black hole of a memory, is he can remember seeing Jason dead.
It’s burned onto his corneas and always on the tip of his tongue, breathing down his neck, waiting for Leo’s mind to wander so it can dig its way out of Leo’s DO NOT TOUCH: BAD MEMORIES box and dig its venomous fangs into Leo’s eyes. It’s always there, waiting, watching. The other memories wait in line too, but Leo’s been dealing with them for years, so he knows how to dance and hide the knee-jerk reactions that come up at their shadow.
But Jason is- different. New. New and old and Leo never dealt with it until it was too late. Couldn’t handle the fact that he was gone, that he had been murdered before Leo could even say hey, I’m back. He didn’t even go to the funeral, couldn’t handle it, shit, he still can’t. He ran from his problems, big surprise there, but this time, no matter how much distance he put between him and what remained of Jason Grace, it was like Leo was still there, asking where Jason was-
He drops his pen against the desk and grips his shaking hands in each other, bowing his back.
Leo got his GED because he had nothing better to do and Piper was getting hers, so Leo just tagged along, and Leo only accepted that place in MIT because he had nothing better to do than lay in his bed and wonder-
It’s not doing Leo any favors that he can’t function like a normal human being anymore. Sure, it was bad when he was 15, 16, but after Jason, shit just went to hell in a handbasket.
His own memories are acting as his biggest enemy and Leo wants to go Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind on himself. Though with less romance, definitely less Jim Carey and more Leo not remember who he is. Blank Slate. Can’t be traumatized if you don’t know your name!
All these funny thoughts are doing nothing to stave off Leo’s mid-afternoon scheduled panic-attack.
He drops his head against the desk in his dorm, thankful that...Mark...Micheal...Martin...something like that isn’t here. His eyes squeeze shut against the dam of memories, vivid and painful and clawing like wild beasts, that threaten to spill through. He can’t handle that right now. Can’t deal, won’t deal, calm down you neurotic fuck-
He takes several desperate gulps of air, hands buried in his hair and pulling tight, tightly, tighter, on his curls, nails digging into his scalp. He wants to crawl into a ball so small he disappears and then it’ll be dark and warm and fine and Leo won’t have to deal with his snowballing mental health. Leo’s never had the best mental health, but he’s so sure, in the same way, he’s sure that a machine will work or that car has a fucked belt, that if Jason was still here, it would be so, so much better.
Another downside to his magic memory:
Leo remembers what it’s like to be in love with Jason Grace so clearly that it makes Leo’s heart twist and ache-
Leo doesn’t think he’ll love anyone the way he love(d) Jason Grace. Leo killed Gaia so Jason wouldn’t have to, devised a whole plan so Jason would be okay and Leo comes back to find him dead-
He’s pulling at his hair so hard it’s beginning to burn and ache, but that’s two emotions Leo is used to feeling. The pain is centering, anyways. Grounding, pulling him into the present. The desk is cool against his boiling skin but the panic and the grief is too big and it’s screaming, like a petulant child, pay attention to me! and Leo can only obey-
Leo wants to scream and fucking destroy because when Jason died he took a bit of Leo and Piper with him, all the way down to the underworld and now Leo feels permanently empty, half-built, missing something vital and Leo hates it, hates it, hates it-
It’ll always be like this, won’t it? The feeling of missing something, that grief that follows you like a dead body stapled to your back, pushing you down, a constant reminder, and somedays you’ll not think about it, but then you’ll be left alone with your thoughts and you’ll think ‘what if-’ and suddenly everything is a ‘what if-’ because you want them to be there so badly, but they can’t, and they never will be, so you’re left sitting there, like an idiot crying your eyes out because you had the audacity to remember-
And sometimes, you’ll make yourself think about it for days, because you have to. Grief is your burden to carry, right? And it should hurt and Leo likes the roaring void of pain that sparks inside him every time he makes himself look at pictures or remember good times. He’s still alive, and it’s the curse of the living to remember the dead. It’s the blessing of the dead to forget the living. But Leo’s still here, kicking and screaming and lost and so it’s up to him to hate and burn in Jason’s memory. He’s gotta remember Jason, he has to. Has to remember his dumb, brave, weirdo best-friend because Leo cheated death and Jason paid the price-
Leo’s crying now, and that’s a common sentence nowadays. Salt rushes into his mouth and he bites his lip to tide back the sobs and fucking screams of anguish because Leo isn’t coping, and he can’t, not when he still loves the memory of someone who would never love him back.
Leo’s been damned by his own memory and his own inability to fall in love with the right people. So, here he sits, bent in half, head on his desk, sobbing in his dorm room at MIT because Leo Valdez has an elephant’s memory and the curse of watching everything he cares about crash and burn.
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