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infizero · 9 months

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Why Ambrosius and Ballister’s Relationship Feels So Different in the Movie (Nimona)

As someone who read Nimona countless times growing up, I am very familiar with the story and these characters. Which is why when I watched the movie, I was struck by how different Ambrosius and Ballister felt. They seemed like totally different and unfamiliar characters to me, and it didn’t have anything to do with their designs.

After rereading the original Nimona graphic novel recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that the main reason they feel like completely different characters in the movie comes down to one thing: the removal of the joust.

When I watched the movie, I was surprised by the fact that they changed the circumstances that drove these two apart. But it didn’t hit me just how much this one event shapes both of their characters and their relationship to each other until I reread the book.

The joust is CRUCIAL to their dynamic. It pervades every interaction they have with each other, they bring it up constantly, it is literally the crux of their collective storyline. We learn about it on PAGE 5 of the whole book, and their big heart-to-heart when Ballister is captured near the climax of the story is based around Ambrosius finally admitting the truth about what happened. Honestly I’d say that him finally coming to terms with what he did and apologizing for it is probably what allowed these two to finally find peace together by the end of the book.

We get something similar to it in the movie. Ambrosius still is responsible for Ballister losing his arm, but it is under WILDLY different circumstances. So I want to talk about how the joust affects them in the book, and then explain why the movie’s version of events, while similar on the surface, has a completely different effect on everything. So let’s get into it!

(All images of the book are via pictures of my own physical copy btw, so apologies if they’re not the best quality.)

(Also I want to make it clear that I don’t hate the movie nor its adaptation of these two. I do personally greatly prefer the book, but this post is not here to tear down the movie and exclaim that the book was way better. I just find it interesting how changing one event can have huge ripple effects!)

Part 1: The Graphic Novel (AKA: “My Boyfriend Shot Off My Arm Because of His Wild Ambition!”)

Like I said before, we learn about the joust very early on; Chapter 2, page 5. It is told to us first via Ballister’s perspective. Nimona asks if she can kill Ambrosius while they’re making evil plans, and Ballister says no -- if anyone is going to kill Ambrosius, it’s going to be him. We then get a flashback to the joust itself.

Ballister explains how they were friends and how the joust was the first time they had been pitted against each other. Ballister won fair and square, but in his words:

BALLISTER: “but Ambrosius hates to lose.”

BALLISTER: “He always claimed it was an accident. No one could prove otherwise.”

BALLISTER: “Turns out the Institution had no use for a one-armed hero. I took the only other viable option.”

Ambrosius used a weaponized lance and blasted Ballister’s arm off. After the incident, Ballister was rejected by the Institution, and became a villain instead of the hero he had originally set out to be.

In Chapter 3 we see Ambrosius appear for the first time, and he and Ballister have a very relaxed sort of cartoon hero-villain dynamic going on. There’s definitely real animosity between them, but they don’t hesitate to simply talk casually to each other or help each other when things go south. It’s all pretty lighthearted and lowkey.

They fight briefly, but after Nimona triggers the building they’re in to self-destruct, Ambrosius doesn’t hesitate to help Ballister escape and Ballister doesn’t hesitate to accept his help. Ambrosius even tries to reassure him that Nimona will be fine. After they make it out, with Nimona presumed dead, Ambrosius puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him to go before more guards show up. They may be “arch-nemesises”, but they certainly don’t act like it.

AMBROSIUS: “Haven’t you missed our fights? We haven’t done this since you tried to clone the king’s daughter!”

BALLISTER: “Ambrosius, I really don’t have time for this.”

AMBROSIUS: “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

BALLISTER: “You’re an idiot.”

By the way, I’m not going to be doing a full breakdown of every single scene with them, don’t worry. I just think that their first interaction shows off their dynamic very well. This is presumably how they’ve been with each other since the incident, as it’s made clear both here and throughout the book that they’ve both been doing this for a while at this point. They have a very established dynamic, which is important as that is one of the big differences between the book and the movie. (I’ll get into that more later.)

Whenever these two interact throughout the book, it’s clear that they have very different opinions on the incident that drove them apart and how their relationship functions now.

Ambrosius tries to act like it was simply an accident and that it doesn’t matter. Ballister became a villain of his own volition, and now they are arch-nemesises who have to fight because that’s their job -- though he doesn’t exactly act like he hates Ballister.

Meanwhile Ballister saw it as a deep betrayal, and while he definitely still cares deeply about Ambrosius, he cannot get over the incident as easily as Ambrosius can.

Their respective feelings about what happened are shown perfectly in the scene in Chapter 7 where Ambrosius invites Ballister to meet with him in secret. Ambrosius tells him that the Institution has ordered him to kill Nimona and begs him to send her away, both so he doesn’t have to kill her and so things can go back to “normal.” Ballister then says that Ambrosius gave up normal at the joust.

AMBROSIUS: “I can’t believe you’re still hung up about that. It was a long time ago, you know.”

AMBROSIUS: “Besides, it was an ACCIDENT.”

BALLISTER: “I bet you’ve said that so many times you’ve started to actually believe it.”

Ambrosius insists it was an accident, and Ballister claims that he blasted off his arm because he couldn’t stand that Ballister was better than him. This sets Ambrosius off and they begin to argue.

AMBROSIUS: “You can’t blame me for how your life turned out! You made the choice to turn evil!”

BALLISTER: “Choice? I never had a choice! The Institution needed a villain. That lot fell to me. I never chose it.”

BALLISTER “And it could just as easily have been you, had that “accident” happened differently!”

AMBROSIUS: “Oh please! Do you really believe that?”

AMBROSIUS: “You never had it in you to be a hero! Everyone always knew that you were going to be the one to go bad!”

Ambrosius has convinced himself that Ballister chose to become evil, and that he isn’t responsible for what happened because it was an accident. We later learn that it wasn’t an accident though, which means that this really is him just making excuses so he doesn’t have to accept responsibility.

Ballister brings up the idea of Ambrosius becoming like him again after they fight, in one of if not my favorite scene between them in the whole book:

AMBROSIUS: “uugghh”

BALLISTER: “What if I cut off your arm right now?”

BALLISTER: “Then you’d see how fast the Institution would cast you aside. Just like they did me.”

AMBROSIUS: “You wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “No, I wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “And I’m the villain.”

BALLISTER: “What do you suppose that says about you?”

Ballister and Ambrosius are both very complicated individuals, and I think they lose a lot of their moral grayness in the movie. (Which I will get to later.)

Ambrosius is the “hero”, but it was his ambition that drove him to blast Ballister’s arm off, and he’s never accepted responsibility for it, instead trying to convince himself that Ballister turned out this way because of his own actions. But he doesn’t disagree here that the Institution would throw him out if he were to lose his own arm, which I think is very telling. He knows deep down that he is not a good person, and he is not working for good people. But he doesn’t want to admit it.

Ballister is the “villain”, but in many ways he is better than Ambrosius. He abides by his own rules of never killing unless it’s necessary, and goes out of his way throughout the book to make sure that as few people are harmed as possible. He knows that the Institution is corrupt, because he was one of the people it failed. And he works to try and bring it down.

Ambrosius cannot accept what happened, and because of that they aren’t able to get anywhere. They both know it wasn’t an accident. But because Ambrosius cannot admit it, they are stuck like this.

It’s a fascinating part of Ambrosius’ character that though he is adamant about Ballister being the one to destroy himself, he still cares about him. Much more openly than Ballister does in return, in fact. Ambrosius consistently does whatever he can to avoid having to kill him and always seems to have his wellbeing in mind. While he initially refused to kill Nimona, revolted at the idea that he should be ordered to kill “a little girl”, he eventually agrees to do so, but only under the condition that Ballister would be spared.

THE DIRECTOR: “Your motivations are quite transparent. I KNOW what the nature of your relationship was. I made it clear at the time that I disapproved. If your fixation on him has impeded your ability to do your job, then he truly has outlived his usefulness.”

THE DIRECTOR: “We’ll find you a new nemesis. Perhaps you will be more competent without Blackheart as a distraction.”

AMBROSIUS: “I won’t kill him. If you demand I kill the girl, I’ll do it - but I won’t kill him.”

Despite him and Ballister’s separation being his fault, he is the one who wishes most for things to go back to the way they were. And this is likely why he refuses to accept responsibility about the joust. If it were truly an accident, then there shouldn’t be anything preventing them from continuing to be together. By painting it as an accident, Ballister becomes the villain for refusing to move on and let things go back to the way they were, not Ambrosius.

But finally, after Nimona disappears and Ballister lets himself be captured, we get probably the most important scene between these two. Ambrosius has been demoted due to his failure to kill Nimona, and is now forced to guard Ballister’s cell. Ambrosius is at his lowest that he’s been throughout the story, disgraced and discarded by the Institution who he had always been so loyal to.

It’s notable that Ambrosius says here that they both know Ballister is not evil, since he has been paddling that idea this whole time that Ballister made the choice to turn evil. By admitting that he is not, it shows that he is both starting to turn against the Institution, and starting to be more honest about what really happened.

Naturally, after Ambrosius wonders how things ended up like this and reminisces on when they were together, Ballister once again brings up the joust. And finally...

AMBROSIUS: “I- I never wanted to hurt you. I- I didn’t- It was-”

BALLISTER: “Don’t you dare try to tell me again that it was an accident.”

AMBROSIUS: “It wasn’t.”

...he admits the truth.

Ambrosius shares his side of the story, letting both us and Ballister in on what really happened that day. It wasn’t fully his fault -- the Director had called him into her office the night before the joust and told him that he had promise, that he was her choice out of the two, but that he had to prove himself against Ballister or that opportunity would go away.

On the day of the joust, Ambrosius received a weaponized lance instead of his regular one, which he instantly noticed. He asked what the Director expected him to do with it, and was told that she expected him to win.

To Ambrosius’ credit, he had no intention of using it, as he was confident that he would win. But the weight from the weaponized lance threw his balance off, and he ending up losing. And so...

AMBROSIUS: “I wanted it, more than anything. You never wanted it as much as me. You were just BETTER, without hardly even seeming to try.”

AMBROSIUS: “I don’t even remember- but I must have-”

[...]

AMBROSIUS: “I’m sorry, Ballister. I’m so sorry.”

To be fair, Ambrosius is not entirely to blame here. I doubt he would’ve come up with this idea on his own; he only acted on it because the Director had already given him the weaponized lance, and stressed the night before that the opportunities she dangled in front of him would not be given to him if he did not win. He was manipulated.

But he still made the decision to do it. He could’ve simply not used the lance. But he chose to. It is his fault.

It’s fascinating that the version of events Ambrosius had been swearing by this entire time is the exact opposite of what really happened. He claimed that it was an accident, he didn’t choose to do it, he had no choice, and that it was Ballister’s choice to become evil that caused all of this. But in reality, Ambrosius was the only one who got a choice here. And that choice is why their relationship was destroyed.

Ballister then brings attention to something even more damning:

BALLISTER: “You’ve never said it before.”

AMBROSIUS: “What?”

BALLISTER: “You never said you were sorry.”

AMBROSIUS: “I- didn’t?”

AMBROSIUS: “Oh god.”

I feel like you could interpret this in a lot of different ways, but the way I see it, they probably didn’t see each other much right after the incident. Ambrosius was catapulted into stardom as the kingdom’s beloved knight, and Ballister became a villain. I don’t think they really interacted much until their hero-villain antics started up, so I don’t think Ambrosius really had a chance to apologize. And if he did, he didn’t think to. Regardless of why, I do think it is messed up that he never apologized, and it goes to show just how much this event destroyed the bond they used to have.

From here, there’s not too much, as Plot Stuff starts getting serious around this point. Ambrosius ends up betraying the Institution after they continuously attack Ballister to provoke Nimona, attacking the guards who are holding him. This is when Ambrosius finally chooses Ballister over the Institution, which is great for his character, but there’s not really much more than that to say about it.

He and Ballister plan together to try and save the kingdom, with Ambrosius being adamant that they have to kill Nimona while Ballister refuses to. It’s during this conversation that Ambrosius mentions that he “never did anything good [his] whole life”, which is really sad but also kind of accurate, and it goes to show how he’s finally accepted responsibility for everything he’s done and had a part in up to this point.

Eventually Ballister is able to find a way to nerf her and they split up, with Ambrosius wanting to tell him something in case they don’t see each other again, but Ballister shuts him down.

BALLISTER: “We can’t do this now. Just... just promise me you won’t get yourself killed.”

It’s easy to assume this was something romantic and it likely was, but I imagine Ambrosius could’ve also wanted to say sorry again for everything. Perhaps it would’ve been a mix of both.

Regardless, they split up and climax stuff happens: Ambrosius attempts to kill Nimona but gets seriously injured, Ballister tries to reason with Nimona, etc. etc. Eventually at the very end, we see that these two have made peace and are together again, living on after everything. And that’s these two in the book!

Whew. I know that was a lot, but don’t worry. I won’t be going into as much detail about the movie’s version of events, as Ambrosius and Ballister have a much more cut-and-dry dynamic there than in the book. Their relationship in the original is very complex, so I wanted to make sure I covered all of those little nuances.

The joust is what defines their relationship and a lot of their respective characters; it is unimaginably important. Ballister became a villain because he lost his arm and was cast aside by the Institution. Ambrosius became the kingdom’s hero because he took Ballister out of the picture. They are unable to be around each other normally for very long because of their divided views of what happened. It is only after Ambrosius finally faces the truth that they are able to find peace together once more.

All of this is to say that it’s extremely hard to imagine what their relationship would be like in the graphic novel had the joust not happened the way it did. Which brings us to...

Part 2: The Movie (AKA: “My Boyfriend Sliced Off My Arm Because I Literally Killed Someone!”)

Before we start, I want to again stress that I am not trying to argue that any changes made here are inherently inferior. I am merely pointing out the differences between the book and the movie that contribute to the overall dissonance I and many others have felt when it comes to these two across versions.

Right off the bat, we are greeted with the movie’s version of Ambrosius and Ballister’s backstory. Like was implied in the book, they appear to be together (or something along those lines) which is great to actually see. But it quickly becomes clear that the events here are far different.

Instead of a joust, it is a knighting ceremony. There is no competition between Ballister and Ambrosius here. Ambrosius is knighted and cheered for, and then it is Ballister’s turn. He is knighted and everyone is silent before breaking into cheers as well. And then...

...his sword suddenly turns into a cannon and kills the queen. And in retaliation...

...Ambrosius chops his arm off.

Now if you’ve listened to ANYTHING I’ve said so far, this should immediately set off alarm bells. Because this one little difference changes everything about these two’s dynamic.

In the book, Ambrosius shot off Ballister’s arm in order to win his position. It was an entirely selfish and evil action spurred on only by his uncontrollable want to be the winner.

But here, Ambrosius is debatably justified in his response. Sure, he didn’t have to be as drastic as slicing his whole arm off (and I know there’s symbolism there with how the kingdom has taught people to get rid of problems), but Ballister -- to him -- literally just shot the queen. The queen who Ambrosius has sworn to protect. It is completely reasonable for him to respond in this way. And that’s a huge difference.

By changing this, we already have a completely different situation. Ambrosius here didn’t particularly want to cut Ballister’s arm off, it was a reflex, a response to a sudden danger. (Not saying he wanted to in the book, but there he made the deliberate decision to do so. In the movie it seems much more like an actual accident -- an overreaction that he immediately regrets and, as we’ll see, continues to regret.) And there was justification for it. There was no justification for it in the book.

Instead of an Ambrosius whose ambition caused him to commit an evil act of betrayal against the man he was closest to, we now have an Ambrosius who, in the heat of the moment, overreacted like he was trained to after Ballister seemingly betrayed him. We’ll see over the course of the movie how this affects things, but that’s not the only major change here.

As we figure out shortly afterward, the movie makes a huge change when it comes to how the story functions, and that’s the timeline of events. In the book, the joust and the subsequent fallout between Ballister and Ambrosius happened years ago. We don’t know how long, but it’s clearly been a while. Enough time has passed where they are fully settled into their roles as hero and villain, and they look significantly younger in the flashbacks as well.

Like previously stated, book Ballister has been a villain for a while. He is completely settled into this role and has been making schemes and having fights of the week with Ambrosius for a considerable time. He knows what he’s doing. He has his own way of doing things, and when Nimona inserts herself into his life much of their early dynamic is him teaching her how he does things. In the book, Ballister is the teacher, Nimona is the student.

But in the movie, this incident just happened. It's unclear how exactly long it's been, but judging from Ballister's arm being created and his wounds healing it's probably been around a month.

Regardless of exactly how long it's been, the point is that these events are still very fresh. Ballister seemingly has just been laying low, not villain-ing it up, and he and Ambrosius haven't seen each other since the knighting ceremony. This changes literally everything about Ballister’s character. This post is specifically about Ambrosius and Ballister’s dynamic and not a Ballister character analysis so I’ll try to keep it brief, but movie Ballister seriously could not be more different from the book.

Compare this to movie Ballister, who I’m pretty sure never knows what he’s doing ever, at any point. He was training to be a knight. He has seemingly never once questioned the Institution. Now he has suddenly lost his arm and been thrust out into the unknown of being treated as a villain, and he has no idea how to handle it. Then Nimona shows up, tells him “hey, the Institution sucks”, and eventually he ends up believing so as well. In the movie, Nimona is the teacher, Ballister is the student.

Book Ballister actively resents the Institution and has no doubts that what they did to him is wrong. He has been plotting their downfall for a while. Nimona, on the other hand, seems to be out of the loop when it comes to the Institution and seemingly only starts hating them after she finds out how they threw Ballister out. Again, I’d just like to stress how completely and totally opposite their dynamic in the movie is compared to this.

There’s also Ballister being a scientist and being much more jaded in the book, but that’s not really important for the purposes of this post. So alas, I shall move on.

This different timeframe greatly impacts Ambrosius and Ballister’s dynamic, and obviously it would. There is a huge difference between a falling-out that happened years ago and you’re both still bitter about, and a falling-out that happened very recently. This, along with the different course of events resulting in said falling-out, is what causes their dynamic to feel so alien.

Also while talking about their early interactions in the movie, I’d just like to point out that while here Nimona is the one to assume Ambrosius is Ballister’s arch-nemesis and call him such, which Ballister doesn’t agree with, they were actually arch-nemeses in the book. Just something I noticed.

Something else I find interesting is later on, Ballister seems to be almost in disbelief about Ambrosius cutting off his arm and makes excuses for him.

BALLISTER: “He didn’t cut off my arm. He disarmed a weapon.”

BALLISTER: “It’s how we were trained.”

(Side note, but I wonder if book Ballister ever felt this way right after the joust? Did he try to convince himself it was an accident too, once upon a time? Did he try to make excuses?)

And to be fair, he is sort of right. Like I said before, Ambrosius’ reaction to Ballister seemingly killing the queen was debatably justified. While we’re obviously supposed to side with Nimona here and agree that Ballister should be more upset at Ambrosius for what he did, the movie definitely paints Ambrosius as more sympathetic overall. We see him freaking out internally about cutting off Ballister’s arm, and there is a lot of emphasis placed on how he and the others were trained by the Institution, inviting the audience to place more of the blame on the system that taught Ambrosius to act this way rather than him as a person.

And again, I’m not saying this is a bad thing! I love a good "taking down a corrupt system” story, and with the different circumstances of the movie it definitely makes more sense to play it this way. But in comparison to the book, Ambrosius is much easier to sympathize with. His character is changed from a very morally gray person who did something horrible and won’t admit it, to a pretty okay person who did something horrible and wholly accepts and bemoans that fact. He’s almost the opposite of what he was in the book.

So we have an Ambrosius who accepts what he did to Ballister and feels awful about it, and a Ballister who has no idea what he’s doing and is basically just being dragged around by Nimona. With both of them being basically the complete opposite of how they were in the book, is it any wonder that their relationship with each other feels so different when they themselves are so different?

Also, once again, the circumstances are very different. There is no Queen murder plot in the book, nor is their any attempt to clear Ballister’s name. A significantly different setting makes a difference too.

I don’t see a need to go into further detail about specific scenes in the movie as I think I’ve made my point clear. But going back to the movie’s lack of Ambrosius and Ballister’s already established hero-villain dynamic, I think these differences are made quite apparent just contrasting how they talk to each other. I mean, just compare these two scenes:

AMBROSIUS: “What? You’re gonna kill me now too?”

BALLISTER: “You believe that?”

BALLISTER: “Then you never knew me at all.”

AMBROSIUS: “uugghh”

BALLISTER: “What if I cut off your arm right now?”

BALLISTER: “Then you’d see how fast the Institution would cast you aside. Just like they did me.”

AMBROSIUS: “You wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “No, I wouldn’t.”

BALLISTER: “And I’m the villain.”

BALLISTER: “What do you suppose that says about you?”

Their relationship in the movie is much softer and healthier than it was in the book. Their dialogue in the movie tends to lean much more towards tried-and-true “friendship betrayal” stuff; the wound of Ballister’s “betrayal” may be fresher, but it’s clear both of them love each other far more than they resent each other. In the book, it is the opposite. The movie could NEVER have the bar fight scene. It’s too ugly and bitter to fit these softer versions of Ambrosius and Ballister.

Part 3: Conclusion

So, that was a lot. I hope it’s a little clearer now how big the differences are between these two’s dynamic in the book and the movie! Especially if you’re someone who is only familiar with one or the other. While I prefer the book due to me tending to prefer more complex and messy relationship dynamics, I totally understand the appeal of the more loving and healthy relationship Ambrosius and Ballister have in the movie.

To summarize, here are some of the main takeaways:

Ambrosius causing Ballister to lose his arm is completely unjustified in the book and happens due to Ambrosius’ wild ambition, while in the movie it is a debatably justified reflexive action in response to an active threat.

Ambrosius overall is portrayed as much more sympathetic in the movie, with the system itself being more to blame for what happened.

In the book, the main thing keeping them apart was Ambrosius’ refusal to take responsibility and admit what he did. In the movie, it’s a misunderstanding about Ballister seemingly turning evil.

In the book, Ambrosius and Ballister have a very established hero-villain dynamic with the joust having happened years ago. In the movie the “betrayal” is still very fresh, which leads to very different interactions between the two.

And that’s about it! Thank you for reading this very long post. And if you haven’t read the original graphic novel or watched the movie, go do that!!! Much love to ND Stevenson and the rest of the people who made this story come to life.

Let me know your thoughts in the tags or the replies! Which version do you prefer? Are there any other factors you feel have a significant role in why their relationship feels so different? Or do you think I’m totally wrong about this and they feel basically the same to you?

Either way, thanks again for reading and goodbye!

#nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #analysis #meta #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius x ballister #nimona movie #nimona graphic novel #nimona analysis #ballister blackheart

762 notes · View notes

senseichaos · 3 months

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Howdy howdy! I ADORED "You Can't Run. Hell. You Can't Even Hide" The balance between absolute fear, dizzy hypnotic confusion, and wide eyed admiration that the reader character holds for Vox is immaculate! Also them calling him Mister Vox is just Chef's kiss (it is WAY too hard to find xReader fics or even just fics in general where the honorific is Mister (C/N) and I love every one I find). The clothing change moment was probably my favorite, I'll always be a sucker for the representation of being broken and rebuilt in someone's image combined with the gift of pretty clothes. I keep going back to reread the whole story.

I know it's a oneshot, but since your requests are open, I figured I'd shoot my shot and ask if you would make a part two where Mister Vox just wrecks us, preferably sexually. We did leave off on him finding us trying to run away, do we not deserve to be punished for such an offense after all he's done for us? I also would love to see if/how much Vox has to push us to slowly become happy to be his, if that's something he wants (I could imagine having a rowdy unwilling runaway as his possession would get frustrating after awhile and be terrible for his image). There's honestly so much potential for what could happen next, and even though I could stew in my imagination, I would very much love to be at the mercy of your interpretation of the funky TV man a little longer.

That said, take your time, I know you've gotten a huge influx of Hazbin requests, hell I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already requested something similar to what I requested. I also understand if you can't/don't want to fulfill this request for any reason, that's what makes it a request. No matter what, you're an amazing writer and I hope you have a wonderful day!

💙✨

AAAAAAH!! I love you sm! When I saw this request I knew I had to do it at some point! I'm giving you the name 💙 anon from now on so if you request again I know it's you!

_______

Forever and always

(part 2 to: You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either)

Summary: After that day you attempted to escape from Vox, you had become somewhat accustomed to this new life you are forced to be living. Or you were until Vox gives you your first day off, causing you to find something out that would change how you live forever.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Horror (?)

Warnings: Non-Con, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Masochism, Electric shocks, Mind control, Drugging, Love potion, Vox is an asshole, Hurtful language, forced, gilded cage, soul contracts, unprotected sex (DONT), Vox owns reader, dacryphilia, let me know if I missed any!!

(not proof read)

--------

That day you attempted to escape from your gilded cage you wished to escape again, though vox had managed to continue his control. Even when he tugged you back by your electric leash you felt that horrid sinking feeling. This was it. For the rest of eternity as you know it Vox has you. He owns you, your soul, your body, your life; or well, lack thereof. You couldn't run from him no matter what you did, he practically controls the pride ring, keeping you tethered there like a puppy on a leash is simple to him. He has eyes everywhere. You cannot hide anywhere.

Recently Mister Vox has become a lot more... Touchy. Those fleeting touches of his fingers against your back, poking against your chin, pressing into your neck, swiping against your bottom, touching against your bosom. There is an odd burning feeling to it, you don't want to enjoy Mister Vox touching you in such ways, you don't want to enjoy it when he sucks his teeth at you or licks his tongue against his gums. But you do. You can't quench that desire. Especially when he'd moved you into his room from your apartment building. He hadn't made you share a bed with him, thank Lucifer, but he had made you sleep near enough to him that you can tell when he's.. pleasuring himself. Almost as if he wants you to hear him.

You and Mister Vox have never been better, besides from such hurdles. You stay obedient no matter how badly you wish to escape his arms. To cut all of his tight bounds on your body and run away. You'd figure out how, one day, you would.

"Good morning my dear! Did you have a gratifying sleep?" This is how most mornings go, Mister Vox will wake you with a poke if your side and a coffee in hand, already fully dressed and done up. You've always considered yourself a light sleeper, so you never know how he manages to make you a coffee every morning without so much as stirring you awake. You smile, nodding softly as you pry your eyes from his two dimensional face.

"Thank you Mister Vox, uhm.. did you have a good sleep as well?" You ask, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Vox smiles, nodding as he takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"Of course, my dear. So, I know you have been working very hard recently... So I've decided to give you the day off!" Mister Vox declares, outstretching his hands as he gives you a manic smile. A day off? Why? This has to be a test. he's just going to leave you.. alone? For a whole day? This has to be fake, a joke, a flook.

"Oh my dear don't look so surprised! You've been a very good girl recently so I thought you deserved a day off," Mister Vox pauses, looking up at the roof for a second before peering back at you. "Now don't think this means we don't have rules, you are to stay in here for the day. If you want to go shopping I have to accompany you, alright? But I do have an appointment in an hour so it won't be for long,"

"Remember, I have eyes everywhere.."

You laugh awkwardly, shrinking into your own figure.

"I know Mister Vox.. I wouldn't forget," You can't stop that sorrow from entering your voice, but quickly you put on that mask of a smile once again. Mister Vox clasps his hands together, that red dripping from his maw again. "Great! Now I'll see you soon, be a good girl for me, hm?" He says, ruffling your hair atop your head with a condescending gaze.

"Yes Mister Vox," you reply simply, watching as he disappears in Into a blue line of electricity, shooting into the camera.

Fuck. Now what?

You can't remember the last time you were given this type of freedom, even if it wasn't a lot of freedom. Often you were tethered to Vox's side. Everyone in the building knows that you belong to Vox. Everyone outside of the building probably knows this, too.

There's this odd feeling in your stomach, this odd feeling as if you were floating. It happened every time you drank your morning coffee, but you'd always assumed it was just that feeling of awakening from slumber. But today, oh today it is stronger than ever before. It's as if you can feel every nerve in your body be rewired, every single hair on your body stand on end. Every sensation is doubled.

What the fuck was in this coffee? What is this euphoria? What is this yearning.. this yearning for Vox? You suddenly wish he was here, with you, holding you, calling you his good girl.. m

Shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you stand from your bed, fixing the large blue shirt you wear (that vox often asks you to wear when you sleep) as you walk to the kitchen.

The kitchen in Mister Vox's room is a large area just off to the side of his desk space, lined with many kitchen appliances and red cabinets. You are determined to figure out what he's putting in your coffee, what's making you feel so emotional. Needy. Awful. You scan the room, finding the coffee machine in the corner of the room with a couple bags next to it. Coffee, sugar, creamer... Nothing suspicious yet, it seems. Crouching down, you look open the cabinets beneath the coffee machine. Looking through the half full area.

Then you saw it, a small vial hidden behind a spare bag of creamer labeled 'Valentino and Velvette: Love potion'.

Terror shoots through you, causing you to drop the vial to the floor. It shatters everywhere, leaving the pink liquid to seep into the tiles below. He's drugging you. All this time, you feeling this want for him, burning at his touch, listening to him as he jerks himself off late at night. You wanting him to do things to you. It's all part of his plan to make you his, completely. To make you want to be his.

Burning tears fall down your cheeks, humoring you as you stand on shaky legs from the tile. What do you do? Now more than ever you want an out, a loophole, a way to take your soul back from his greedy claws. Anxiety, terror, hurt, worry, pain.

You want to prevent yourself from doing anything drastic, you really do. But all you can feel is this pain, this pain as you run on your feet to the balcony door. Trying your hardest to pry open the doors as they rattle loudly, shaking them, pulling them, pushing them. This evil man can't keep you here for any longer. You'd do anything to leave, ruin yourself for him, do something awful, make yourself less attractive to him.

Nausea. Headache. Your knees buckle as an electric blue overtakes your vision. What is this? You can't breathe, Vox. Vox. Help. Your head clouds, words fill your brain and you feel yourself being wrapped up by sharp claws. You can't scream. Help me. Please.

"You really think it's that easy?" Mister Vox.

"I can't believe I trusted you alone, even for a minute. After all I've done for you, as well. After I gave you a life some would dream for. Stupid girl." He sounds mad, horridly mad. Regretful. Throbbing takes over your body as sound waves film your ears. You can feel him lift you into his arms, placing you down onto a soft surface harshly.

"How am I supposed to make you understand this? You're mine,"

Your vision slowly comes back, until all you can see is him as he stares at you from above. His eyes are dark, domineering, needing. He's ready to take. What is he doing? All you can feel is his claw as it travels up your middle, between the valley of your breasts, stopping at the middle of your neck.

"Now, my dear? Are you going to let me teach you a lesson? For being such a brat?" You gasp, feeling his hand as it circles around your neck, effectively taking some air from your lungs. You shake your head, attempting to move your heavy legs from him with wet teary eyes.

"Nonono! Get off, please, get off!" You cry, writhing in his grasp. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he clicks his fingers. Suddenly a pulse of electricity goes through you, causing a shock to blur your eyes and pull a scream from you.

"Every time you try anything I'm shocking you, Dove. Don't try to escape from me, it's not going to work," he grins, laughing at your frightened teary eyes. "I can do whatever I want to you, my dear! I fucking own you!!" He growls, using his hand that isn't around your neck to push your thighs to your chest, revealing your bare pussy from beneath your oversized shirt.

"No please.. I'll do anything..?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, but this is what I want more than anything right now.. maybe you should have thought of this before making such a racket and alerting everyone in the building, hm?" He says, dragging his clawed finger through your building wetness. He finally takes his hand from your neck, instead using it to keep your thighs in place as he pinches your clit between his sharp claws.

"Ah! Mister Vox.. hurts..!" You wail, wiping your tears from your eyes as he continues to abuse your sensitive bud between his fingers. He chuckles looking up at you as you gasp in pain.

"Hah! Wail all you want, dear, no one can save you." Vox guffaws, finally taking his claws from your clit. Only to plunge them into your aching hole without warning. You moan out, feeling the sharpness of them inside of you as he curls his fingers into your g-spot.

Mister Vox revels in your wails of pain and pleasure, fucking you with his clawed fingers harsh and fast. His claws are surely are scratching you from the Inside, he can tell by the way your hands tremble and clasp over your lips.

You can't help but feel good. This masochism of yours that forces it's way into you. Every scratch of his fingers inside of you just makes you want to cum. You can't give him that satisfaction, you can't let him know that you are enjoying every second of his claws thrusting inside of you. This is awful. You hate it. You hate that you love it.

"Is my little dove enjoying this? Awe.. to scared to admit you fucking love this?" Vox laughs sadistically, giving you an extremely harsh thrust of his fingers into your g-spot. You squeal, vision going white for a moment as his fingers go at this manic speed. You feel your orgasm build, wishing to break through the walls and release. But you can't let it, you won't let him have that. You'll never let him have that feeling knowing he's won.

"If you don't cum I'll fucking ruin you, dove."

You gasp and choke on saliva, clawing on the bedsheets below as he forces you to orgasm. There's no getting out. He knows that you are trying not to cum. And he won't let it happen.

"Yes.. Mister Vox.." you say softly, hole clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Vox makes sure to drag it out, giving you slow rhythmic thrusts of his fingers to watch your body contract and writhe with pleasure.

"Good dove, listening to commands for me," He says softly, stroking the side of your cheek as he kneels between your legs. You want to pull away, but once again that burning and yearning feeling fills you. That stupid potion had an effect, and you can tell. From the way you feel a dizzy want when he looks at you to the wetness that continues to build between your thighs.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard.." He laughs so himself, smiling crazily as he presses his hand to his face. "I'm gonna fuck you SO FUCKING hard, you won't even remember who I am anymore! How does that sound, my little slut?" Your lower lip wobbles as more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"Awful.." you whisper.

Another strong electric shock goes through you, causing you to scream out Mister Vox's name in pain as your body is left shaking and aching.

From the corner of your eye, you see Vox unzipping his fly.

"Wrong answer! Haha! Wrong fucking answer stupid slut," He growls, pressing the tip of his cock to your hole without a care. There something wrong with him, he's acting more crazy than ever before. He's getting off on your fear, getting off on your pain, getting off on knowing you can't do anything but be his.

With a loud slap, Vox sinks his entire length into you. You scream, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life as he looms over you. He doesn't even give you a moment to let you rest, immediately setting a ruthless pace with his hips into yours. Every thrust causes your vision to go spotty with the pure force he drives his hips with, groaning with every thrust as he stares completely into your face as it scrunches in a pleasurable pain.

"S'too much! M-Mister vox It hurts!" You cry, reaching out to press your hands against his shoulders, clawing into his coat. You don't even care anymore, you want at least a small bit of comfort from these strong unforgiving thrusts. Vox chuckles at this, leaning down closer so he can capture your lips in a (forced) yet passionate kiss.

His long electric blue tongue immediately finds its way into your gob, passionately fornicating it against your own as his thrusts send you into a sort of floaty state. Vox maps the entirety of your mouth, tasting every crevice of you from your lips to the back of your throat. He thrusts almost ravenously like a dog, tip of his cock sometimes painfully pressing against your cervix.

Pulling away, Mister Vox looks Into your eyes, revelling in the way you claw at his back. You whimper and moan loudly, eyes fluttering closed as a tear falls down your cheek. He kisses it away, looking up at your closed eyes with a grin.

"Open your eyes, dove. Look at me while I fuck you." You cry out, opening your eyes for him so you can see him look at you with pleasure.

"Y-yes Mister- Ah! Vox.."

He chuckles, thrusting into you extremely hard. You can see the bulge of his cock in your stomach, poking against your skin in such a way you almost want to touch it.

"I'd fucking breed you if I could, fill your filthy cunt with all my little babies so then you can't even dream of leaving.. but I can imagine," Vox rambles, taking your cheek into his hand so he can look at you longingly- and almost affectionately. If it weren't for the position you're in you'd almost be enjoying this moment.

"Mister Vox!" You cry, back arching as your orgasm begins to prod at your stomach.

"Hm?" He asks, grunting as he thrusts into you.

"Can I cum? Please! Please please please.." You beg, legs quivering wildly. Vox chuckles, giving you an adoring look as you bite your lower lip.

"Awe look at you! Asking Mister Vox to cum and everything.." Vox begins, biting his lip as you sputter on a moan. "Of course you can, dove. Let go so I can fuck my cum into you.."

You scream his name when you cum, digging your nails so hard into his back you're sure his coat has tears in it.

You'd given up. Well and truly. You wouldn't admit it. But you've finally accepted it. You belong to Mister Vox. Forever and always.

Forever and Always.

Vox gives you one last thrust, emptying his cum into you with a moan from his own lips. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, Vox drags out his orgasm by serving you a few more small quick thrusts, making sure every last drop is inside of you.

But when he has, he doesn't pull out.

"Mister Vox.. pull out.." you whimper, wiggling your hips against him.

"Haha! As if. I said i'd fuck my cum into you, didn't I? I haven't done that yet.. okay?" He asks, stroking a hand through your hair.

"Yes Mister Vox."

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #lovely anon #senseichaosanons #💙 anon #vox #yandere vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x reader angst #angst

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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Hi my love!! I just reread your bodyguard tasm!peter parker blurb and it was so cute 😭I loved the original premise where peters spider senses got distracted because of her!! You wrote it so beautifully.

I'd love to request a part two (If you're open to that?) where he's guarding her again and we see their relationship develop a little more??

i read your requests rules and couldn't find anything about you not writing part twos, but feel free to ignore if you'd rather not! lots of love <3 <3

Hi sweetheart, thank you thank you!!

bodyguard!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter’s staying on the ground for your sake, but he doesn’t love it.

You’re relaxed as can be, lounging on your bed while he paces your unfairly giant room from end to end. This, he thinks, is why people hate politicians. You’ve got an ensuite bathroom the size of his apartment, and on the taxpayer’s dime. He gets it now. If you and your dad were living in a shoebox like every other self-respecting New Yorker, maybe the guy wouldn’t get so many death threats.

“You don’t have to be all vigilant,” you say. “My dad’s not here. So long as I don’t get actually kidnapped or killed while you’re here, sitting down isn’t going to affect your performance evaluation.”

Peter looks at you. “I’m getting a performance evaluation?”

Your smile is lopsided and goofy. It’s humiliating how much it affects him. “No. Who would he send it to? Your employer?”

“Oh.” He feels stupid. “Good point.”

“Come here,” you laugh. “I got us coffee.”

He goes to sit on your bed, mostly because he’ll do anything you ask him to. After spending a few hours hugging you on a roof, Peter’s found that he actually likes you. You’re not snooty or spoiled like he might have expected, friendly to him even though he’s technically working for you. You seem oddly down-to-earth for someone with your upbringing, funny and smart. (Smarter than him, maybe. You turn him into a blundering idiot every time he sees you, though, so it’s hard to say.) You’re surprisingly fun to be around.

You lean over, grabbing two disposable coffee cups from your nightstand. “Do you want peppermint or caramel?”

“Which one do you want?”

“No way. You’re my guest, you get first pick.”

Peter’s here on a job, but he likes your version of the story better. The idea of you thinking of him as your guest, someone invited in whom you want to please, makes an affectionate warmth unfurl in his gut.

“You should probably have the one you want, because the other one’s going to get cold,” he says, an apology in his tone. Your brows wrinkle. “I can’t really drink through the mask…”

“Oh.” You close your eyes, expression clearing. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter’s smiling under the mask. He wonders if you can hear it in his voice. “Enjoy yours. I’ll live vicariously.”

“You couldn’t just lift it up enough to drink?”

“Uh, no. The whole secret identity thing is…kind of important to the job.”

You smile guiltily, lifting one of the cups to your lips. “Fair enough.”

You’re silent for a minute, watching him as you sip at your coffee. Once again, making it nearly impossible for Peter to do what he’s being paid to do. He should be keeping his senses alert, watching the windows, surveilling the perimeter or whatever. Not looking into your clever, narrowed eyes and thinking about how your whole room smells like you.

“Okay,” you say, still scrutinizing him like you’re trying to count the threads in his suit, “now I’m dying to know what’s under the mask.”

Peter sits very still. He’s had people—fans and foes alike—try to tear it off him before, but he doesn’t think you’re like that.

“I mean, obviously you’re tall,” you lean back on the bed, mouth pursed in contemplation, “so you’re not, like, twelve. You sound about my age…”

“I what?”

“Your voice.”

“What—” He clears his throat. Tries to sound more generationally ambiguous. “What would make you think that?”

You crack another one of those sweet, silly smiles. “Well, you’re not going to fool me now,” you say. “I’ve heard you talk. You can’t be more than thirty. Plus, when you got here, you said ‘yo’.”

Peter really needs to stop saying that. He doesn’t even know when he started.

“You’ve got stitches all over your suit…” you go on. “What neighborhood are you from again?”

“I’m not telling you that,” he laughs.

“Oh, come on.” You scooch a little on the bed, tucking one leg under you to face him more fully. Your eyes pierce his like knives. Very pretty knives. “There’s almost ten million people in New York. You really think I’m going to track you down?”

“Your dad is the mayor…”

“Stop.” You give his shoulder a playful shove. Peter’s mask feels suddenly warm. “Those surveillance rumors weren’t true, the tabloids made that up to mess with his re-election campaign.”

“Okay, okay. I’m from Queens.”

You lean back on your hands, and he can’t decide if the way you’re looking at him is analyzing or flirting. “Interesting,” you say slowly. “So you’re, like, a real man of the people. Not the Bruce Wayne type.”

“Hey,” he teases, “Bruce Wayne could’ve lived in Queens. It’s nice.”

“But Bruce Wayne wouldn’t have to sew his own suits,” you point out.

Peter tilts his head, blows a breath out the side of his mouth. You’ve got him there.

“And you’re tall, clearly pretty strong, you seem smart…” You nod, seeming to have come to a decision. “I think you’re handsome under there.”

A laugh startles out of him. He hopes it sounds casual, like it came from someone cool, whose heart isn’t galloping in his chest. Peter really shouldn’t care if you think he has the potential to be handsome under his mask. It’s not like you’ll ever find out. Still, it feels weirdly nice.

He makes his voice light and playful. “Well, it’s good to have your approval. Now we can pretend that I’m almost in your league.”

For the first time since he’s gotten here, you look genuinely caught offguard. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Peter grins. It feels good to have flustered you. He’s missed doing that. “Who else?”

You look away from him as you laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you say, “but you’re a superhero. You’re not the one who should be worried about leagues.”

You’re cute. Peter makes a bold move, scooting an inch closer to you, into your space. He’s glad you can’t see that under the mask, his face is just as flushed as yours. “I’m not a superhero,” he says, keeping his voice light as meringue. “I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.”

You roll your eyes. “Humble, too. Points in your favor.”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. Someday, he’s gonna have to get Peter Parker in your orbit somehow. He wants to meet you—more than that, he wants you to meet him. He’s not sure how long he can wait.

He decides to let you off the hook. Slightly. He reaches across you, taking the unused cup from your nightstand. “Thanks for this,” he says. “Once you don’t need me here anymore, I’m gonna take it home and heat it back up.” He grins even though you can’t see it. “Maybe I’ll swing by and return the favor sometime.”

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bogkeep · 17 days

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Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

#stand still stay silent #might as well tag this if i wanna dig it up later

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dduane · 2 months

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In the Young Wizards 'verse, how would the universe handle two wizard-potentials going for the same manual at the same time, like reaching for the same book at the library? Would it somehow magically duplicate itself? Would it avoid the question entirely by waiting to choose the potentials until later? Would either (or both) of them get a notification of the manual installing itself as an app on their phones, thus distracting them from grabbing the book? (So many options!)

The Young Wizards series is one of my all-time favorites, by the way. Thank you for putting it into the world ❤️❤️ I need to reread it again soon!

First of all: thanks for the nice words! Delighted that the books were there for you. 😊

As to your question: I'm not sure this is a problem that's likely to come up, for an array of reasons that have to do with the basic nature of YW-'verse wizardry.

Basically, though: every wizard (like every other human, and every other sentient being) occupies a unique temporospatial position that doesn't just involve where they are, and when they are, but who they are; as well as where they've been, and what they've experienced. Different people, born in different places and raised in different ways by other different people, are inevitably going to have different personalities and different worldviews... and therefore, also, different preferred ways to engage with wizardry.* The chances that a given instrumentality offered to a given person is going to be an exact or even near-exact duplicate of the one offered to another person are pretty small. I don't think we need to worry too much about the two-hands-reaching-for-the-same-Manual-at-the-same-time paradigm.

Bear in mind also that there are a lot of different ways to get at Speech-based wizardly info besides books. Offered instrumentalities can vary wildly due not just to cultural norms, but personal preferences. Someone who likes stories but doesn't care for reading physical books might have their Manual turn up as an (apparent) audiobook. (Or maybe a podcast: or a videoblog: who am I to judge?) After all, we've already had wizards who manage spells or otherwise engage with wizardry by listening to the Sea, acquiring the Speech through sentient laptops, hearing it as in-mind speech which they manage by (probably somewhat Speech-enhanced) memory; by direct communications with the Powers that Be via an (apparent) little magical light source they carry around with them, and numerous other methods. (And don't forget the slightly unusual instrumentality that turns up in the YW 30-Day OTP sequence, in which one new probationary wizard obtains his Manual access via what appears to be Tuxedo Mask's rose from Sailor Moon.) ...Additionally, I have a vague memory of one wizard carrying around a Manual access that seems to be the one and only Magic 8-Ball featuring answers that are not hazy. Don't ask me which book it's in, though. Might be Games Wizards Play, but that's a guess.

As for app installations—no reason that Manual access might not turn up as an app update. Also, in terms of dedicated devices, wizPads and wizPhones (formerly wizPods) have been around for a while now, and both have become canonical over time: Darryl McAllister's using one of the wizPhone-based Manual versions in A Wizard of Mars. (Though these may occasionally present problems for practitioners testing out a new paradigm.) As a wizard grows into their practice of the Art, it's not at all unusual to change instrumentalities as one finds something that works better for them than what the Powers sent them the first time out.

Anyway: hope this helps! 😀

*As for the probably inevitable question, "But what if they're twins?" To quote a well-known authority, "It's never twins." :) (And that said: starting with Wizards at War, we see that occasionally, it is twins... and I'm pretty sure they acquired their delivery instrumentalities separately, though I can't recall whether this gets dealt with in canon.)

#Young Wizards meta #wizard's Manual #issues

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13tongues · 7 months

Text

happy friday the thirteenth

hello, hello.

it's been a while.

let me start by apologizing for falling off the face of the internet over a year ago now. i wish i had a better explanation for y'all, but truthfully, i just felt burnt out and had personal issues to work through that greatly impacted my desire to write anything or even maintain some kind of internet presence.

i will say my life has changed significantly shortly after i stopped writing and i didn't have the time i used to to write. i returned to school and lost all of my free time.

he's a killer queen, the most widely read of my fics and the only one to be regularly updated, became scarier and scarier to write. i appreciate every single one of you who has read any of my works and enjoyed it or left me comments letting me know how you felt about it, and i deeply appreciated that all of you were so endlessly kind about my writing. at the same time, something i really enjoyed writing and imagining and updating became something of a burden. i didn't love how i wrote the second trial in the goblet of fire and rereading those chapters, i can see my own indecision and hesitation in deciding how to progress in that moment. i cared a lot that people liked my writing and worried about failing to meet people's expectations, and it became harder to write at all. especially as i approached fifth year, with umbridge, i struggled. i experienced the same feeling where i did not like how i was writing umbridge, but felt my own expectation of me to post forcing me to write her character anyway.

i still think about he's a killer queen and all of my unfinished works and think about how i had planned to wrap them up way back when. most of them also have final chapters outlined, although everything in between has been yet to be written.

beginning in january of this year, i knew october 13th would be a friday and i imagined it would be the perfect day to return to posting. and yet, my 29th chapter, titled "edward elric is back in black" is half-finished.

i cannot promise any firm deadlines moving forward, but i intend to be more active. i will be done with my degree in 2024 and once i'm back to working, i think i will have more brain power to be creative and get back into writing, which i truly love. i still write snippets of ed and the gang here and there, they're not forgotten.

i really hope to share my silly little stories with y'all again soon.

sincerely, hoye.

#he's a killer queen

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belovedgrayson · 18 days

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Do you think since Nightwing was willing to kill the Joker for Jason, that he has more loyalty to Jason/other Robins than he does to Batman? He knows Bruce better than anyone, so he should have accepted why he didn't kill the Joker himself

Short answer: nope. I personally don’t think there’s anyone Dick is more loyal to than Bruce. (He can be so intense and explicit about it, too.)

Long answer:

Ohhhh honey I don’t even know where to start with Dick’s loyalty to Bruce. It knows no bounds. It really knows no bounds. You can’t get Bruce out of Dick’s veins, he’s in that deep.

Even when Bruce “did bad things/was an asshole” Dick would defend him and make excuses for him in front of others. And it doesn’t surprise me at all because that’s his Dad and Dick is an insanely devoted kid; no matter what happens he’ll always be loyal to Bruce. You could call it endearing, a character flaw, a blind spot– really depends on how you look at it.

Okay so let’s talk about the Joker Last Laugh fiasco! -war flashbacks-

(I went back and hate-reread the whole thing just for you, anon🫶🏼)

(I have qualms with some of the writing in this story but for the sake of this ask I won’t nitpick)

“Dick killing the Joker” did not occur in a vacuum so let’s analyze what happened before, during, and after. At the start we see Dick trying to get Babs to relax and take a break from her work (in addition to obsessively watching the Joker’s every move via CCTV). While they’re out Babs talks about how she wishes they could just be rid of the Joker permanently. This train of thought comes up again and again.

She says she wants him dead. His answer is “we don’t do revenge”. That’s his moral code courtesy of Bruce. It makes several appearances in this story.

Dick keeps trying to reason with her and talk her down, even though he was also traumatized by what happened to her. When recalling what the Joker did to Babs and the immediate aftermath of it, Dick (in his head) describes those as the darkest days of his life since his parents’ death.

This shows us that Dick is deeply affected by the pain his loved ones go through and that he reflects on it. And then, amidst all the chaos, news reaches him of Tim’s presumed death at the hands of the Joker, and it’s like the final straw on top of the mountain he’d already been carrying on his back. Jason’s death. The attack on Babs that continues to cause her immense pain. And now Tim? It’s too much, the pain and rage tips him into a breakdown. Even Babs later tells Tim that Dick was acting different and “changed” after he found out that Tim was presumed dead. He even subtly blames himself by saying “we weren’t there for him.”

Dick’s not in his right mind at all when he goes to the cathedral to face the Joker, and it’s obvious. He doesn’t say a single word, immediately starts throwing punches, and when he finally speaks he explodes

He’s so out of it that when he sees Tim he thinks it’s a trick. He’s having a full-on breakdown. I wouldn’t call that “willingly” doing anything. Because when he does snap out of it he goes right back to the moral code he’s been preaching all along and is utterly shattered by his own actions. The first thing out of his mouth is “what have I done?”

Bruce is there to resuscitate the Joker to save his son from the mental toll that killing would have on him, but it still isn’t enough. He’s completely dismayed and just walks out in a daze all alone.

After walking out, he beats himself up, isolates himself from everyone, ignores Babs’s calls, and even considers quitting crimefighting all together because he almost killed the Joker. Which he thinks is a massive failure. I repeat, Dick thinks almost killing the Joker was the biggest failure ever. He breaks the moral code once and can’t bear to look anyone in the eye anymore. I don’t know if we want to call that “willing”.

TLDR; the aftermath of his breakdown in Joker Last Laugh is actually a classic example of his undying loyalty to Bruce. Everyone except Bruce basically tells him hey it’s fine maybe you did a bad thing but you’re human and we wanted Joker dead anyway, and you know what Dick does? Turns inward and dismisses all attempts at comfort, because the one person who matters most and whose opinion reigns supreme didn’t tell him that it’s okay: Bruce.

#ask me anything #send me anything #end scene #narrator’s voice: and she posts it so shamelessly as if the ask hasn’t been waiting in the drafts for a whole month!

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stilespeters · 8 months

Text

As it was

pairing: Kit Walker x fem!reader

a/n: This was one of my drafts that I finally managed to finish after like 6 months. Anyway its long as hell and I reread and revised it like 100 times. Send help

word count: 8298💀

summary: The relationship of you and Kit is put to the test when Kit is framed for the Bloodyface murders. Once he is let out from hell on earth, you two try and mend what's broken and reminiscence about the last night everything was still normal.

warnings: none really

3 months ago

“Something smells good mrs. Walker. I’m starvin’.” Kit closed the door and placed his car keys on the counter. You were standing near the dining table with your back towards the door, and as your head turned, you saw him remove his jacket.

“I made your favorite, lasagna.” his face lit up and he smiled as he walked towards you in your one story house.

“I made it with extra cheese, just how you like it.”

“You know me so well,”

He stood behind you and you felt his breath on your neck as his arms snaked around your waist, making you shiver and sigh. You have known him for a long time, but every time he touched you felt like the first time. His hands then moved to your shoulders and he massaged them while planting kisses in your neck.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he hummed as he wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head on your shoulder “Are you on the menu?”

“Nope.”

“Well that's too bad. Can’t I have you as first course?” his voice was low and his fingertips left trails of circles on your arm as he continued to trail kisses on your exposed neck. He had tried it many times before when he came back from work. He would tease you and before you knew it a small peck on the cheek turned into a make out session on the table. A little while after, your feet would inevitably dance to the bedroom.

There were multiple times where you had tried to resist, but Kit Walker was simply irresistible. This time however, you succeeded and you turned around to face him while holding his hands. “I thought you were starving, what about the food?”

He gave a cheeky smile while downcasting his gaze to your lips. “That’s not what I’m hungry for.”

You weren’t falling for his trap. You weren’t falling for his dark, half lidded and sultry eyes. You weren’t falling for his low sexy voice. You weren’t falling for his pink lips and sexy, tousled, golden brown hai-

Focus!

You had to get your mind out of the gutter and be strong.

“But the lasagna is gonna get cold.” his fingers danced on the skin of your arms, but he didn’t go further. “So we better make it quick.” He waited for your approval to go further.

Why did he have to make this so hard?

As he leaned down to kiss you, his lips barely grazed yours before you gently pushed his chest. His lips were pouted as he stared at you. “Mr Walker,” your voice became serious as you raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms “First lasagna.”

“First lasagna.” he repeated and you smiled at that. He pulled the stool for you to sit down. It was something he always did, a small but sweet gesture.

When he took the first bite, he moaned and closed his eyes. “Everytime you make lasagna it gets tastier and tastier. It’s pure heaven.”

You took a bite of your own and your lips curled as you watched him. “So how was work?”

He went quiet for a second. “It was alright, the same as any other night. It was busy though.” He left out the part where Billy and his friends scared the crap out of him by stealing Al’s gun from the safe. Kit knew you weren't too fond of them. They were nothing but pure trouble. They were always trying to drag Kit along with them and clearly they didn’t understand or see the discomfort he projected.

Billy had also tried several times in the past to make advances towards you and Kit knew that you were uncomfortable. Even at the gas station he made a remark about giving you a visit when Kit was at work, and when Kit got mad, Billy said he couldn’t take a joke.

Just the thought of it made his blood boil.

“What about you? How was your day?”

You set down your fork and chewed the last bit of lasagna. “I cleaned the house, I did some reading in the garden, got some groceries for tomorrow and I watched My fair lady. I believe the name of the actress was Audrey Hepburn, I read an article about her. Lovely actress," you paused, “Oh and I fixed the shower.”

Kit looked up from his food and swallowed the piece of lasagna in his mouth. “Really? That's great.” Tonight, Kit was supposed to look at the shower which seemed to be defective, but you had spare time and decided to see for yourself. Turns out you were quite a handy woman.

“How did you fix it?”

“I tightened the loose pipes and the noise suddenly just stopped. It took me a while to figure out, but I had enough spare time.”

"Wow-" Before he could say anything else, you continued.

“-I also got the wine stain from your shirt.”

Kit smiled brightly at hearing what you did today and he felt proud that he was able to say that you were his girl. Not a lot of husbands can tell to their colleagues that their wife fixed the shower. He placed his hand on yours from across the table and drew light circles on your knuckles -something he always tended to do.

“What would I do without you.”

The corners of your mouth curled upwards at the sight of your husband’s excitement.

“Without me, you’d probably come home to an empty and quiet house after work,” you shrugged “Or to another woman’s arms.”

He grimaced at that and shook his head. “The thought of that makes me want to vomit.”

“Not over the food, please.”

He mimicked vomiting over the lasagna and you swatted his arm lightly as you gasped melodramatically. “Kitson Henry Walker, are you insulting my cooking?”

“Oh I wouldn't dare.”

“Good, because I don't take insults lightly.” You crossed your arms and tried to act serious, but Kit saw right through you and chuckled.

“Sure you do.”

You let out another playful gasp and sat back in your chair. “Excuse me? Without me you wouldn't get the privilege to taste the best food in Massachusetts.”

“Well luckily I don’t have to worry about a world without you.”

“You’re right. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for a long time.”

“Dang it, that reeeaally sucks.” his lips were in a thin line and you couldn't help but break character and laugh. Shortly after, Kit joined in and together you ate the last bits of your lasagna.

As you looked at him while he ate your food, you felt like you were in a trance.

Your sister had told you once that you two were made for each other because you two shared the same interests, had the same humor, and basically were each other's equal. She had said it was almost creepy how perfectly you two were together.

However when you and Kit announced your engagement, your sister had told you how she had experienced her past marriage.

After being mrs. Walker for two weeks, she came over from California and had said that once the newlyweds phase was over, the relationship would falter quickly until it’s a repetitive bunch of torture until you both perish. She said nothing good lasts forever, and once everything feels perfect, something happens that breaks everything down.

She had promised you that a day would come where the passion that once burned like a forest fire, would quickly become smoke to ash.

You refused to believe it and you were right to do so. You were in a relationship for 5 years with Kit, having met when you were both 18 when Kit's friends introduced you to each other at Benny's barn. Ever since you made it official, the passion between the two of you had never once faltered. Not even a tiny bit.

You believed that nothing wrong could happen, and that even if something small happened, you’d still love him unconditionally. This man could do literally anything and you’d still love him. Him just breathing made you swoon. You were still as much in love with him as the day you first saw him.

When you both finished your food, you stood up to do the dishes. You always wanted to finish something immediately so you could have time to relax, but as your feet moved to the kitchen, Kit stopped you.

“Wait.” He stood up and walked to the door. You couldn't exactly see what he was doing as you tried to peek over his shoulder, but you heard the clear sound of a paper bag.

“I got you something.” You now noticed the paper bag in his hands and your heart melted. “Oh Kit, you shou-”

“-Before you decline my gift because your heart's way too good and you feel bad because you feel like you owe me, I saw this in the store in town and immediately thought of you. I had to buy it for you.”

“To what do I owe this?”

“Well, I came home just now and the most amazing woman to ever grace the earth made my favorite meal, plus she looks and smells amazing. I just couldn't find a better moment.” Your heart melted.

“My beautiful girl deserves everythin’.”

Your cheeks almost hurt from how wide your smile was. “I already got my everything in front of me.”

To that, he pressed his lips against yours and sighed heavenly before handing you the paper bag. You gave him a knowing look as he stared down on you in anticipation, and you opened it. When you saw the object in it, your eyes went big and you squealed in excitement.

“Oh my god, Kit. Is this what I think it is?” You had a sealed vinyl in your hand and Kit nodded happily as he took in your reaction.

It was a popular song that had just been released and was your favorite to sing along when it came on the radio. Kit had noticed how your face lit up and how you upped the volume every time you heard it in the car and so he decided to save up on the side to get it on a vinyl for you.

You immediately hugged him tightly before moving towards the phonograph and placing the vinyl in the holder. As the music filled the room, you swayed your head to the rhythm and walked back to Kit. “Thank you, I love it!”

He smiled widely and grabbed your hand as you spun around in the living room to the music. Kit sang along as he pointed a finger at you.

“Pretty woman, walking down the street. Pretty woman, the kind I’d like to meet. Pretty woman, I don’t believe you, you’re not the truth. No one could look as good as you.”

You had danced and twirled for a while, the dishes long forgotten, and the ends of your dress lifted as you twirled and twirled. Together you swayed to the rhythm and sang along.

As the song came to an end, Kit placed another vinyl that you got for him a few months ago for his birthday. Together you slowly danced to ‘At last’ by Etta James, and when you closed your eyes as you held on tight to him, you felt like nothing could tear you two apart.

Your cheek was pressed against his chest while his chin rested atop your head, and his hand was on your back whilst his other hand was tangled with yours. The music was soft, the black sky outside was contrasting with the lights, and the cold you felt just an hour ago when you were alone had been long forgotten the moment his eyes met yours from across the room.

You felt his heartbeat hammer at a rapid pace and when you looked up at him, you saw he was already smiling down at you. “Hi.” You whispered and he chuckled, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

“Hello gorgeous.” His eyes darted from your piercing eyes to your lips and he admired every detail of your face. At that moment he wondered how he was the one to end up with you. How he was the one to dance with you at this very moment. He didn't know how he got so lucky, but he was relishing and enjoying every second.

Oh how he wished he could stop time to stay like this forever.

You had noticed his eyes scanning you and you tried to find a reason as to why he was doing that. Before you could ask though, he already gave an answer.

“You are so beautiful.”

Your faces were close, but far away enough to see every detail. You could see the look of adoration and as you scanned his eyes, you couldn't find a sliver of doubt or falseness to his statement. The only thing noticeable was his expression that changed to a sly smirk as he leaned a bit down to whisper in your ear. “And hot.”

“I’m beautiful and hot?” You raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“Mhm,” he leaned back and again, traced light circles on your lower back. “I don’t know if I want to tear off your pretty dress right now or take you to the finest restaurant in town. Perhaps both.”

“Is that a promise, Mr Walker?”

He simply stared into your soul and leaned down to try and kiss you. However, you placed a finger on his chest and had a smirk on your face, making his brows furrow in confusion.

“I’m sorry to inform you but I bought this dress just last week. Can't have you ruin it.”

"I'll do more than just ruin your dress." He concealed it as a joke but he was serious. You snorted and looked at you feet. "No but in all seriousness, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“As tempting as it sounds, I’d rather just shimmy out of it. We could go to a restaurant tomorrow though.”

He chuckled and put away a loose hair that fell in front of your face. “Orrrr, we could go to a restaurant every night so you never have to cook again.” You could hear the sarcasm in his voice and your lips were in a thin line as you stopped dancing.

“Kit.”

“Yes.”

“Are you insulting my cooking, again?”

“I wouldn't dare, miss. You make the best food in the entirety of Massachusetts.” He recited the words and you had a satisfying and proud smile.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He grabbed your hand and twirled you around, and as the song in the background came to the bridge, you went back to just slowly swaying to the music.

“By the way, I think you’re beautiful too.”

“I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called beautiful.” he mused as he recalled the hundred times you have called him handsome in his head.

“Now you have.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead before you pressed your cheek against his chest again, his hand cradling your head. As your head was faced to the side, you saw the newspaper you read this afternoon lay on the little table next to the chair.

“Oh by the way, I saw in the paper that tomorrow there will be shooting stars visible for us. Shall we go to the barn and watch em?”

“I’d love too,” He smiled, but then remembered that the barn was 30 minutes away if you took the fastest route. Taking the fastest route also meant that you had to walk by Billy’s house. It made Kit remind him that he had to get rid of Billy and his obnoxious friends.

“What's wrong?” You saw the creases in his forehead as he frowned. It looked like he was thinking hard about something.

Kit contemplated whether or not to say it to you, but he figured you should know what was happening. “Billy showed up again.”

Your eyes immediately widened “Kit-”

“-I know what you’re thinking, but calling the cops isn't gonna help. They're just gonna brush it off like last time. Billy and his group haven't committed a crime."

You let out deep sigh and bit the inner sides of you cheek. Kit held your hands and again, rubbed soothing circles. "Maybe it's time I confront them."

Your head snapped up to meet his eyes. "What? No, that's dangerous you know how Billy is. He is as violent as he is stupid and he doesn't know what 2+2 is. 'Talking' to him is equivalent to a fist fight."

"Perhaps you're right, but I know Billy since high school. He wouldn't go that far," He didn't sound that sure of himself "The sooner they are out of our lives, the less worry we have on our plates. I know Billy works at his father's 5 and 10 store. I can pay him a visit after my own shift at the gasstation." He saw that you weren't buying it. "You hate confrontation as much as I do." You answered and Kit sighed.

"Billy is the ringleader, once I talk to him all the others will go away as well. They can’t keep bothering us, it has to stop. Clearly ignoring them isn't gonna help.” You continued to stare at him blankly before you looked away. You didn't like the idea one bit. However, Kit knew Billy and you didn't. Perhaps Kit was actually right. "Baby," Kit placed his finger on your chin and made you look at him again. "It makes me feel like I can't protect my own family."

You had a gnawing feeling in your gut. You didn't want to see him get hurt, but you knew he was capable of handling the situation by himself. You hated that the police were useless in this situation and so you cursed softly. “Okay, fine, but I will kick him so hard if Billy or another one of his loser friends lay a finger on you.”

“Y/n-”

“No Kit, I don’t want anything happening to you, I don’t want to ever see you get hurt. You’re too valuable to me.”

Kit knew that arguing wouldn't progress the conversation so he nodded.

“Okay.” You were happy that Kit agreed, however just the thought of something going wrong and Kit getting bruised or worse clouded your mind. You didn’t notice it but your eyes were downcast on your feet and Kit placed a finger under your chin to lift your head up. “Hey, we’re still going to watch the stars tomorrow at the barn, I promise.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek and you held his wrists. “I better see you in one piece tomorrow unscathed, otherwise I’ll go to the barn myself.” You weren't actually gonna go to the barn on your own, especially at night. You just knew this was a way to make Kit extra careful. You knew he would never let you go in the dark alone.

Just like you had predicted, Kit’s face fell into worry.

“Y/n, promise me you won’t go to the barn on your own.” He almost pleaded.

One time when he was held back at work and returned home at 2 am on a winter night. He nearly lost his shit when he saw there was a note on the fridge. It said you went to the barn to watch the stars, and you would be back at 1, however you were nowhere to be seen. Turned out you fell asleep on the hay, and Kit was so worried something had happened to you he nearly fainted.

“Alright,” you said and Kit felt like a but was coming “I won't go to the barn myself, as long as you promise me you’ll get home in one piece. No bruises or anything else.”

He knew he couldn't promise that. He knew the way billy’s mind worked. He was unpredictable and so he knew there could be a chance Billy would try and punch him. But there was also a chance that he would actually listen. It was a 50-50 chance.

Kit wanted to promise you that he wouldn't get hurt, but he just knew that he couldn't. He had always been honest with you about everything. He wasn’t gonna lie today.

“I promise I’ll try to avoid a fight.” He pledged and even though it wasn't the answer you wanted, you knew that it was all he could promise for now.

“Then I won’t go to the barn by myself.”

He grabbed your shoulders firm but delicately. “Y/n,” he said in a very serious tone. “Promise you'll wait for me, okay? Promise.”

You nodded. "I'll wait for you” Kit seemed partly satisfied with the answer.

“Promise?”

“I’ll always wait for you. I promise." You solemnly swore.

Somehow it felt like he wasn't talking about the barn anymore.

“Speaking about promises…” You tried and you had a mischievous grin plastered on your face and you leaned closer as your hands were on his chest. Kit seemed to know what you were implying and chuckled whilst looking down at your lips. However when your mouth opened, he heard something different than what he expected to hear.

“Remember 3 years into our relationship you promised we’d get a barn on our own one day so we wouldn't have to walk that far to Benny’s barn? What about we start with that idea? In the next couple of weeks? Maybe we can get some animals. Maybe a dog or something.”

“That sounds like a lovely plan.” He leaned down and kissed you. “We’ll make that promise happen soon.”

“Alrighty.” You smiled.

Both Kit and you were still standing in the middle of the living room with the music still playing, and you just held him tight and hoped the song wouldn't end.

Kit was again, close to your ear and whispered again. It wasn’t like there was anyone around you and he was afraid they would hear, he just felt like it was intimate. “When you brought up the promise thing I actually thought you meant the other promise I made”

You decided to act dumb. “Mhm, I don’t know what promise you’re talking about.”

His hands moved to your hips and he had a tight but delicate grip. “I’ll make you remember.”

Before you could say anything, he cupped your cheek with his palms and pressed his lips against yours. Once he pushed you against the table, your hands moved under his shirt on his abdomen and you felt him tense and inhale deeply as your fingers trailed south. His hands were on your waist, and he encouraged you to jump so he could lift you up the table and stand between your legs.

As your hands moved to the back of his head, you gave a tug, earning a soft moan and you smiled amidst the kiss.

Kit wanted to stay in moments like these forever. Moments where he forgot that he was on earth. Because his lips against yours felt like a grace of heaven that only you could provide him.

However what he didn’t know was that this would be the last day where everything was like this; normal. Because just moments after you and him redressed yourselves while still feeling the aftermath of euphoria, his whole life was about to change.

He wasn’t going to see you again, for a very, very long time.

present time

Kit stared at what looked like a black pit in the tiny cell he stayed in. The lights were out, his back was turned towards the door and his only company was a mosquito flying somewhere near him and the yelling from other patients who were next door.

He felt like he was in an infinite loop of mental and physical torture. The longer he was here, the less sane he started to feel.

He tried to get a grasp on something stable, but nothing seemed to help him remember the good days. The only clear thing he remembered like it was yesterday, was the last day where everything felt normal. He replayed those moments over and over again whenever he was locked up in his small windowless room inside Briarcliff. He had closed his eyes and pictured your features whilst facing the gray concrete.

He remembered kissing your cheek before heading off to work. He remembered singing and dancing to there goes my baby in the gas station. He remembered the douchebag guy who threw his money on the ground before Kit’s feet. He remembered how Billy and his friends stopped by and asked him to jump a guy who messed with Randy’s little sister. He remembered how they grabbed the gun from Al's safe.

He remembered when he came home whistling the first thing he saw was your pretty dress, your red painted lips and the way your hair was perfectly styled. He remembered he couldn't take his gaze off of your eyes and how he fell in love with you every time he saw you.

He remembered dancing with you to the song he gifted you, and he remembered making love to you and the pretty sounds you made as you both longed for each other.

He remembered walking to the living room in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water when he saw a bright light from outside. He remembered running into your shared bedroom only to find you sound asleep and he remembered grabbing his shotgun and seeing something that could only exist in a sci-fi film.

He remembered the last look of pure horror on your face as he got dragged into a police car.

He remembered you.

But as the lonely nights passed and time seemed forgotten, he slipped away. He still remembered parts, but it often felt like your features were slipping from his mind. He was afraid that a day would come where he wouldn't be able to memorize what you looked like. He was afraid that a day would come where your voice was merely a whisper in his mind. He knew that if that day came, he was a gone man. Because the only thing that kept him going, the only thing that truly kept him on his feet was the thought that he might see you again. Even though he knew the chances were slim, as long as you were out there, he kept faith.

Deep down he knew that the love you bore for him didn't just evaporate the moment the police stood at the door. He knew that if the role was reversed, he’d wait for you. He was certain that he would wait forever without a second thought. The only thing he was uncertain about was if you thought the same.

Guess he was about to find out when his cell suddenly opened and light hit the room like rain falls and crashes from the sky.

The door made a cringe sound as it hit the concrete, and Kit turned his head only to be blinded by the light. He saw a man walk in and he tried to blink the black spots in his vision away as he identified the intruder.

“Sign here, and here.” With no explanation given, Kit raised an eyebrow and once he saw clearly, he recognized the orderly as Owen, the prick who beat him on one of the first days when Kit was lost in the massive building. Kit also recalled Owen punching him when another patient attacked him.

Owen looked dead inside.

“What for?” Kit had asked.

“Your release papers, they’re letting you out Kit.” Owen had the most casual tone as if he just explained what he had for breakfast, and Kit couldn’t help but frown as he reluctantly grabbed the form.

“Thredson, they caught him? Lana gave them the tape?”

“Yeah, and she did one better. She blew his head off. It’s all over the papers. Reporters are hanging off the rafters, trying to sniff out the corruption at Briarcliff. That’s why you’re suddenly a free man.”

Kit wasn’t fond of Owen, and he couldn’t help but clench his jaw despite the news he just gave.

Owen threw a package on the small and thin mattress they called a ‘bed’ and crossed his arms. “Clothes from the Salvation Army, they should fit you. Just leave what you’re wearing on the bed.” Kit stared long and hard at Owen to see if he could find any hint of a joke, but strangely Kit found none. Lana had actually done it. She had exposed Thredson and freed Kit from living a long life of repetitive horror and possibly the electric chair.

Kit was handed a pen and he signed the papers, a look of confusion mixed with shock still painted on his face. He was still comprehending what had just happened. After god knows how long in Briarcliff, suddenly he was just a free man. With one sign on a paper he was allowed to leave. It felt surreal.

As he stood up, it felt like the gravity of the situation finally reached his mind. He was going to see you again.

He was actually going to see you again after all these months, perhaps years for all he knew, and he didn't know how to feel about it. 50% just wanted to crawl into your arms and stay there for the rest of his life, but the other 50% was scared that you didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He was afraid you had moved on and forgotten about him.

The reality was something entirely different though. At the same time when Kit signed the release papers, you were sitting in the chair where you usually read the paper or a book. A cigarette was between your lips and there were dark circles under your eyes as you stared at the blank wall.

Smoking made you a lot calmer.

Calm was something that you needed since everything in the house reminded you of Kit. The piano in the corner reminded you of him playing several songs for you to cheer you up when you were sick or sad. The large space in the living room reminded you of the countless times you had slowly danced to the most romantic songs. Hell, even the small hole in the wall reminded you of the time where you pinched Kit in the side after he had tickled you mercilessly. The little hole in the wall was created when the little stone in Kit’s wedding ring bumped into it.

The song Kit had gifted you on the last day everything was still normal, was playing in the background and you couldn’t help but go back in time to the last night you saw him. Almost every day you thought about it. Oh how you wished you could reverse time.

“Pretty woman, don’t walk away. Hey, okay. If that’s the way it must be, okay. I guess I’ll go home, it’s late. There’ll be tomorrow night, wait, what do I see? Is she walking back to me? Yeah she’s walking back to me. Oh, pretty woman.”

You sang along softly, the lyrics tattooed in your brain from replaying it over and over again the last couple of months.

As you leaned back in the chair, you wondered what you were doing with your life. Your husband was in an insane asylum, waiting to be labeled insane or sane. The former would make him a prisoner forever and the latter would make him a prisoner in the afterlife. You could do nothing to have an impact on the horrible outcomes. All you could do was wait in agony.

You tried to keep that thought in the back of your mind, and you sat there for what felt like hours. As you were ready to fall asleep due to the sleep deprivation, you heard keys jingle from outside.

You thought it was just in your head, but as the door creaked open, you suddenly became alert. The shotgun was next to the chair you were sitting in, and in a swift move you snatched it and whipped it at the person at the door.

When you saw his face however, your heart stopped. You dropped the item to the ground.

There he stood, in an outfit you didn’t recognize, wearing a face you did recognize. He had an expression that read multiple emotions, and you felt like everything around you was surreal. He had a melancholic smile and the dark circles under his eyes indicated that he was tired. His golden brown hair was longer than it was when he left, and the sparkle in his eyes didn't hold the same mischievous glimmer. he had before

Every object in your house that fascinated you before didn't matter anymore. All that mattered now was him. All you saw was him, and it took only a few seconds to render what was truly happening.

You ran towards him and let out a cry of joy. You almost tackled him to the ground and held his body tightly against yours as you buried your face in his neck. His arms wrapped around your frame.

Kit would be afraid to crush your body in his arms, were he not weak at the moment. He had to relish the feeling of your body warmth, the way you smelled, the way your body fit perfectly in his arms. He had fantasized every night of just holding you. And now that he’s finally got that fantasy, he couldn't let go. He had to know that you were real.

He was afraid that if he would close his eyes or let go, that you would be gone. No, he wanted to see every inch of you, feel every part of you that indicated that you were actually there.

When you took a second to look at his face, your already broken heart doubled its broken pieces and you let out a sob.

“What have they done to you?” you let out in a whisper as Kit had teary eyes.

“Your face,” you gasped and your thumb ran across his bottom lip where a small slit was visible, however that wasn't the only gash you spotted. “What have they done to you, baby?”

At this point you were crying. All these months of worry broke you, and even after having him in your arms again, it felt like you didn't have him back. You wanted to be happy with him. You wanted to show him how much you had missed him, you wanted to show him how much you loved him.

The silence that overtook the room as your mind processed everything was was long gone when everything became clear.

You pressed your forehead against his and Kit trembled. “It’s not me.” he whispered and you knitted your eyebrows together.

“I know, baby. I know it’s not you. I have always known you were innocent.” Kit felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and at that moment he just broke.

He held you tighter and sobbed in your neck as your shirt was getting stained by his tears. He was glass and your words had shattered him. Every doubt he had about you not believing him was all a lie he made up in his head.

He wanted to hold himself together, but all the exhaustion and pain was overwhelming and he just couldn’t bear it anymore.

“You waited.” he breathed.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

You had never seen him this vulnerable before. Yes, he had moments where he needed you just like you needed him, but it had never been this much before.

He looked like he had died and had been resurrected. He looked like a zombie, yet you couldn't help but smile through the tears when you noticed his familiar grin slowly appear on his face as he stared at you.

His smile was like glue that fixed your broken state in a second. Just the familiarity of his features that reminded you of his past self. It gave you the sense of normalcy you usually felt when he came home after a long day of work, kissing your cheek and eating the meal you made him with passion.

Pretty woman was still playing somewhere in the background and after what felt like hours of standing there, you took Kit to the bathroom to clean him up.

There were no words said. In truth, no words in the encyclopedia were right at the moment.

You had both slipped out of your clothing and had stood under the shower for a long time, letting the water shower all your bad thoughts away. You noticed he had cuts on his arms, and you kissed every single one of them.

Once you got to the bedroom Kit scanned around. He never thought he would be in this room ever again. He never thought he would be with you again. He finally realized that he was actually home. He was safe.

As much as he wanted to stay awake and talk to you about everything he missed, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.

You were at his side and whispered softly as you stroke your hand over his cheek. His face expressed calmness, and you wished whatever he dreamed about was something graceful. “In this world, it’s just us. It’s not the same as it was. But it’s you and me darling. It’ll always be you and me.” You knew it will never be the same as it used to be. But as long as you had each other, things will be alright.

Your love could fight anything.

It had been a few days since he had arrived at your doorstep and you felt numb. Yes, you were beyond grateful that you had Kit back, but he just wasn’t the same. You knew that, but you still hoped that Kit would open up to you. He did answer your questions when you were curious, however you didn’t want to push it. You didn't want to pry because you didn’t want to evoke memories of that place when he just found the comfort of home. But you just wished that he could share the pain with you so he wouldn't have the feeling of being alone.

“Dinner is ready.” you said and you placed two plates on the dining table. Kit was on the couch and he walked over to you. “I made your favorite, lasagna.”

Kit smiled and he took a seat at the table. As much as Kit wanted to act like nothing happened, you could see that he was a lot more quiet than ever. He tried to hold himself together for you every second he spent with you, but you saw through him.

Kit didn't say anything as he took a bite, and you watched him as he continued eating at a rapid pace. He closed his eyes while moaning, and quietness overtook the room once again.

To break the silence, you put down your fork. “I made it with extra cheese, just how you like it.”

“You know me so well.”

He continued eating and swallowed every bit of food that was left on the plate. You simply watched him as you took small bites yourself.

Once you both were done eating, you felt like now was the right time to show him your gift. You had wanted to show him since the moment you saw him but you hadn't really found a good moment.

“I have something for you.” Kit looked at you with curious eyes.

“Really?” he was intrigued.

“Come.” You stood up and grabbed Kit’s hand, leading him to the door that led to the backyard. As you opened the door and walked outside, it was already starting to get dark. The trees and grass were softly lit by the moonlight and when you walked the path down the little creek, you stopped.

Right in front of you was a barn. It was placed on the flat ground in your backyard, and you heard Kit let out a small gasp.

“To make new memories in.” You eyed Kit’s gaze and it looked like he was mesmerized.

“Y/n… it looks amazing.”

You yourself were also still looking in amazement every time you saw the creation. “Caleb and Janet helped me. I’ve been going to the barn myself every to watch the stars. I just lay on the hay or the roof and think about all the things I'm thankful for.” You grabbed his hand and stood in front of him as you let out a deep sigh.

“I want you to know that I’ve never given up on you, on us. I know that what you’ve gone through was horrible, but know that I love you. I love everything about you. And I know that it’ll take a while to be fully comfortable in our home again, but we have all the time in the world to heal. I will wait until you’re ready and together we'll get through this.” Kit’s gaze diverted from the barn to your face and after a while he gently laid his hands on your cheek. Your hand moved to his wrist to hold him and you sighed longingly when you instantly felt warm when his skin touched yours. His touch was like the sun shining brightly in the February sky.

“I wouldn’t have survived without you.” he suddenly started and his thumb brushed the skin under your eye. “You were the only thing that's worth fighting for. If I didn’t have you, I would have given up," he paused for a moment before staring into the darkness behind you. It looked as if that evoked something in him, and you could see him clench his jaw.

"The past few days everything feels safe when I'm with you. You're my anchor, you're my hope. Every time I have you in my arms it feels like everything is going to be alright. At day everything is fine, but at night it feels like the darkness swallows me whole," Kit had to gather himself to speak further "In my dreams I’m back at that place, I'm in a long hallway and I see you on the other side. I call out for you, I reach for you and you look at me like you can't see me. I'm running and running towards you to try and reach you, but as it feels like I'm getting close, I get pulled back and you slip away. It's a never ending cycle and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I run, you're fading and getting further and further away.” You gave his hand a small squeeze for support.

He indeed had nightmares the last couple of days. Well, actually that isn't the right term to describe it. He had night terrors. Sometimes he screamed himself awake at night, looking confused around him as he expected to still be in Briarcliff as he was held down. In reality, you were calming him down by holding him your arms and telling him it was alright, that he didn't have to be afraid anymore. He would gradually calm down when he placed his head on your chest and would eventually fall asleep to your soft and sweet whispers.

"I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere." You moved closer to him and held his hand. His touch made his gaze divert from the black abyss towards you. Your sweet eyes pulled him back, your touch made him feel like he wasn't alone again.

You could never understand what he had gone through. You could never understand the levels of pain he had to endure, the feeling of drowning in an endless well of despair. But you were willing to listen and console. You were willing to do anything to never make him feel like that again.

“It’s over,” you whispered. “It’s time to heal. It’s time to let go.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“That’s okay,” you went through Kit’s hair and planted a kiss on his cheek. “We take little steps, it might take a while, but we have forever in the future. As long as you have me, you don't have to suffer alone.”

He was like a vase that had broken into thousands of pieces. Shattered beyond repair. It felt like his mind was decaying from the torture he endured.

"The things they did to me, the things they did to the others-"

“-You don't have to share that chapter with me yet if you're not ready."

He was silent before he whispered. “I want to.”

He cleared his throat and after a few minutes of gathering his thoughts, he started talking while the moonlight shone on his face.

You listened to every single word he said, and when you had said you couldn't imagine the things he’d gone through, you were far from reality. What Kit described was so morbid that your hand flew to your mouth as you gasped multiple times during his storytelling.

He had explained everything from the beginning to the end. It honestly felt like fiction, but it was a real American horror story.

You felt tears escape your eyes once again when Kit started to describe in detail what he knew. From the missing patients who were being experimented on, to doctor Thredson who was in fact the real Bloody face who carved those poor girls.

Kit's voice faltered and he couldn't seem to speak about it more.

“Give your pain to me. You hang onto me, like your life depends on it. I will help you heal again.”

He let out a soft sob to that and slowly nodded.

"I knew that if the day came where I would be the one to give into the mercy of death, the last thing I'd see before I'd leave this world would be you dancing and twirling carelessly to our song. I would have been ready to die, knowing that my last thought would be you. That's why the last night I saw you kept replaying in my mind. Everyday and everynight. "

When he mentioned that night, you got a melancholic feeling. It was the last time you two had no worries in your mind. The last time where you truly frlt like everything was normal. The only thing that felt horrible at the time was the thought of Kit confronting Billy and the thought of Kit ripping your dress.

"We made a lot of promises that night, but we never got to watch the shooting stars." You smiled at the memory and laughed genuinely for what seemed like the first time in a long time. "We can now."

You looked at him with curious eyes. "What?"

Kit gave an answer by grabbing your hand and leading you to the barn. Once you were inside, Kit looked around him and the dim lights that looked romantic. You had put them there because you had almost fallen from the stairs due to the bad sight.

You both walked to the stairs that led to the second floor. Once you were there, there was a big, open window where you two could climb out of to get to the roof.

"You built this? with little help?" He stared at you in amazement.

"What can I say, I'm quite a handy woman."

Kit smiled at how passionate and determined you were at everything. "I won the lottery of a woman."

You hid your blush by climbing out the window and placed your foot on the sturdy ledge, pushing all your weight onto your leg and grabbing a hold onto the roof. Once you safely laid on the diagonal plattform, you encouraged Kit to come as well.

You watched as Kit maneuvred on the ledge and as soon as his back his the roof, he panted a bit before he looked to his side, his eyes focussed on your side profile.

He struggled a bit due to the unfamiliarity of the structure, "If I fell to death when I literally survived the hells of Briarcliff, I would have been so pissed as a ghost."

You let out a snort that was followed by a laugh. There it was, there was the sign of Kit Walker actually coming back. That was the Kit who always made the best out of a shitty situation, the Kit who charmed you from the moment you met him at Benny's barn 6 years ago. The Kit who would do anything to protect his family. The Kit who you fell in love with 6 years ago.

Kit had joined laughing with you and you placed your head on his chest, feeling the vibrations of his chuckles through your body. Kit had always said that your laugh was contagious. Whenever you would laugh, Kit would automatically join you.

It was cheesy, and it felt like you were two teenagers in love again.

After your laughter died, you looked at the sky with a grin on your face. You were genuinely happy to be with him like this again.

"Y/n," Kit suddenly began "Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm?" You were looking at the tiny glimmers in the sky that were called stars.

“Had Billy bothered you when I was gone?” You looked at him when he mentioned the name you hadn't heard in months, and you thought about the last time you saw Billy, which was once in the pharmacy just 2 weeks after Kit was gone.

“No. He thinks I’m crazy for defending my husband who had been admitted to an insane asylum. He glared at me once when I walked into the pharmacy, but he didn't dare talk to me or come close to me. Him and his gang will leave us alone from now on, I'm sure of it.”

Kit hummed at that, and together you looked back at the sky again. That was one less problem to deal with. Kit found it comical that one big problem solved smaller problems.

There wasn't a single cloud in your view, and you held Kit's hand as you watched infinity amount of stars. After about 10 minutes, you both jerked your hands and pointed at the same thing in the sky. A shooting star!" You exclaimed and you were excited. The first and last time you saw a shooting star was the day you first met Kit. The entire group was getting stoned in the barn whilst you and Kit were on the roof. You were holding a competition who could count the most shooting stars. It had been sort of a thing between the two of you. Once in a while on date night you would just stargaze.

"Now we can both make a wish."

You closed your eyes and after a few seconds, you had made your wish.

"What did you wish for?" Kit asked, and you contemplated whether or not to tell him. After several seconds of worry that the wish won't come true if you were to tell him, you decided that that rule was bullshit.

"Kit."

"Yeah?"

"Remember all the promises we made the last time we saw each other?" "Yeah."

"Every promise was held, except for one. My wish is that the last promise we made becomes reality as well."

"What is it?"

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and Kit saw a glimmer in your eyes.

“Do you want to get a dog?”

#evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #evan peters smut #kit walker #kit walker x reader #kit walker x y/n #kit walker smut #kit walker x you #ahs asylum #ahs fanfic

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lambtotheslaughterr · 1 month

Text

I Burn : Part Six

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART FIVE | MASTERLIST | PART SEVEN

Later that night, you decided to hide out in your room. After Rafe’s suggestive thoughts, all you wanted was to be alone. You had ignored Dr. Mooney’s concerned looks as you loaded into the van, & pointedly ignored Rafe’s sat ahead of you in the van. Rafe was wrong. You didn’t feel tugged between two men, you felt like a piece of meat. Whether it was true or not, Rafe had planted the seeds in your mind. Now, you didn’t feel like you could be open towards Dr. Mooney. And that was a major loss as you felt Dr. Mooney was the one man in your life who didn’t sum you up to be a harlot. He cared about you, more than your own father did. But after what Rafe said… You didn’t know who you could trust.

You skipped dinner that night, instead using that time to write in your journal that Dr. Mooney had given you. But you weren’t writing because you were feeling the burn. You wrote about everything that Rafe had told you. How you felt confused, betrayed, troubled. And after filling out a couple pages, you reread what you wrote & that’s when you realized something major. Recovery was working. You were disappointed that a trusted man wanted you, if it were true. You may have felt that brief burning at the beach, but it ultimately died out. You didn’t want Dr. Mooney to want you, not like you had when you first came to the facility. You wanted him to respect you, to be proud of you.

Though the epiphany brought a sense of comfort & a smile to your face—you were getting better—it too brought doubt. About your future here. How could you continue your one-on-one sessions with Dr. Mooney now that you would be reading into every word he said, every action he took towards you. Rafe had gotten into your head & that burned.

You resolved that you would avoid Rafe for the rest of your time here. He had never done anything to help you. He tempted you, pushed you to embrace your addiction rather than fight against it. Rafe didn’t care about you, that much had become obvious to you. In the beginning, you had been drawn to him, regretfully. And he took advantage of it. As you reflected on the last couple weeks: how he got into your head on his first day, his rejection of you at the community garden, cornering you in the hall closet, even following you into the quiet room. Rafe was bored, like everyone else was under that rood. You were only a toy to him. So, fuck him.

As you were sitting at your desk, your back to the door, you heard a gentle rap on the doorframe. You turned in your seat, dreading that it would be object of your endless thoughts, but you were pleasantly surprised that it was Albert.

“Hey.” Albert was holding a plate of food. “You weren’t at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you food.”

“Oh,” you stood up awkwardly, tossing your journal onto the desk, “thanks, Albert.”

You gestured for him to come inside & he did, offering you the plate. You took it but placed it on the nightstand by your bed. Your appetite was still non-existent.

“You alright?” He asked, but you knew he only asked since the answer was obvious.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“What’s going on?” Albert leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his pockets as he stared concerningly at you.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, avoiding his eyes. Though you didn’t trust Rafe & now Dr. Mooney, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to place your trust in someone else.

“Something happened at the beach.” Albert commented without question. “Didn’t it?”

Your eyes briefly met his before you shook your head, “Just the same old bullshit. You know how it is.”

“Sure.” Albert nodded but he didn’t appear convinced, “But I don’t like Rafe, don’t trust him. And he had to of said something to upset you. You were quiet in the van.”

Damn Albert & his too observant behaviors.

“It’s really not your business.” You soured.

Albert half-scoffed, half-laughed but he wasn’t amused.

“You need a friend.”

“I have friends.” You replied sternly, “Ones that aren’t addicts & life ruiners.”

“Wow.” Albert cocked his head, “Ouch.”

Guilt flooded you immediately. This was Rafe’s doing. Your walls & distrust because of him were now being directed at people who didn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed, holding your head in your hands, “You’re right. I do need a friend.”

Albert waved away your apology, replacing it with a sympathetic smile, “Talk to me, dude. Anything you say will stay between us.”

“And Siena? You won’t go running to her with the gossip.” Albert & Siena had become attached at the hip in the last couple weeks. In fact, you were surprised she wasn’t in your bedroom with the two of you.

Albert chuckled, “I love Siena. And I love Siena because she couldn’t give a shit about any of the drama surrounding others.”

“That’s not a confirmation that you won’t say anything.” You teased, but there was an undertone of seriousness.

“I won’t say a word.” Albert promised.

So, you told Albert everything. While Dr. Mooney wasn’t allowed to indulge others about your sessions & what the two spoke about, the same couldn’t be said for you. You informed Albert about your struggles, Dr. Mooney’s support, Rafe’s mind-fucking, & finally, about what Rafe had told you about Dr. Mooney at the beach. By the time you were finished, you looked to Albert for comfort, or at least some sense of what you should do.

But Albert’s silence unsettled you.

“What?” You frowned.

Albert looked at you once then sighed, standing up from where he was sat beside you on your bed, “I, uh, heard something the other night.”

“What did you hear?” You questioned.

“These walls,” Albert pointed to the walls of your bedroom, “they aren’t that thick. Voices carry.”

You just watched him as he appeared to struggle to tell you what he was trying to.

“My room is next to Rafe’s. And one night, pretty late actually, just before light’s out, I heard another voice from inside Rafe’s room.”

“Okay…”

Albert stared solemnly at you, “It was Dr. Mooney.”

Dr. Mooney? He was never at the facility that late. Why would he…?

“He was warning Rafe to stay away from you.”

That heart in your stomach feeling returned with a vigor.

“But that doesn’t mean anything…” You tried to pitifully defend your doctor, despite your own negative feelings towards him.

“I didn’t think so either at the time. I thought it was strange that he was confronting a patient in their room, especially that late at night. And honestly, I was siding with him. I mean, I’ve said it myself to Rafe, to stay away from you, so I thought Dr. Mooney was just looking out for your best interests too but…”

When he paused for a lengthy amount of time, you pushed, “But what?”

“But” Albert sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. After what you just told me, perhaps Rafe is right. What Dr. Mooney did, or how he did it, was out of character for someone in his position. Seems personal now.”

You swallowed your discomfort. Could it actually be possible that Rafe was telling the truth? The potential made your head swim sickeningly.

“Oh, god.” You held yourself, pressing your face into your arms.

Albert noticed your change in body language, returning to his spot beside you. He placed a hand on your back, rubbing circles there, “Look, I could be wrong! I hope I’m wrong. And Rafe could’ve just twisted the conversation to get in your head.”

“But you heard it yourself, Albert! Rafe even has you questioning…” You sighed in frustration, “Everything has gone to shit.”

Albert offered a small smile, but it did little to make you feel better, “I feel like I just made things worse.”

“No.” You rushed out, “You didn’t. You helped. I just… don’t know what to do now. Do I tell my parents?”

Albert dropped his hand at that, seemingly deep in thought.

“What now?” You asked exasperated.

“You’re just making me remember something.”

“Well, what?!” Albert’s pauses were beginning to get on your nerves. If he was here to ease you, he wasn’t succeeding.

“It was just gossip at the time, there was no proof of it & all speculation, as far as us patients went.” Albert began, “But when I was here the first time, a year ago, there was a rumor that Dr. Mooney was sleeping with one of the patients. She was here one day then gone the next. No good-bye party or anything. Just gone. And then Dr. Mooney was gone, too. ‘On vacation’, they said. But I don’t know. The timing was concerning.”

You frowned.

“We thought that maybe they were just saying he was on vacation while they investigated, but of course we never heard anything else, if there even was an investigation. If it was even true.”

Your head was spinning. You felt nauseous.

“But he came back. And everything was normal. He was his normal self. All the nurses & other doctors still treated him like they had before he left. That’s why it was just gossip. People could’ve just been bored, coming up with their own theories & that’s just the one that stuck.”

You shook your head, “You should go.”

Albert wasn’t helping. When you got back to the facility from the beach, you were already exhausted from the information Rafe fed you, & now Albert was feeding into that more so.

“_____?”

You stood up, “I’m sorry, Albert. I’m tired. I just need to be alone.”

Albert frowned but said nothing, just nodded & stood up, “I really didn’t mean to make things worse.”

You nodded but couldn’t say anything further. Once Albert crossed your threshold, you slammed the door shut. Then you dragged yourself down against the door until your butt met the cool floor.

What the fuck was going on?

Today was a bad day. It was one thing to have to face Albert, Rafe, & Dr. Mooney in group session, but it was another thing to have it observed by Dr. Frazer. He was the head doctor & director of Arrowhead. Whenever he came around, which wasn’t often, everyone felt restless. He had steely eyes, a stiff stance, & hardly spoke a word. Just quietly observed.

That day in group session, you forcefully placed yourself between Siena & Renee, not wanting to sit near any of the men, but that only meant you were forced to look at them. You felt you couldn’t win for as long as you were trapped in the facility.

And today’s group session topic had been brutal. Discussion surrounded how your addiction harmed those closest to you. Renee, as usual, never took the questions seriously, always giving short, brief answers. Albert & Siena were thoughtful in their responses, humbling in nature & self-reflective of their recklessness. But when it came to be your turn, you felt like you would projectile vomit over everyone.

“Um.” You felt your hands shaking, so you hid them between your thighs, “I think the person who has been effected the most by my addiction is my dad.”

You kept your eyes low, unable to look anyone in the eye. Too scared to.

“Because of what I did he was forced to fire his TA. And since then he has been facing a lot of backlash at work.”

Renee gave a soft chuckle but quickly hid it with a forced throat clearing. You ignored her reaction.

“How does that make you feel?” Dr. Mooney questioned. You still hadn’t looked him directly in his eyes. You stared at his shoes.

“Like shit.” You admitted, “I’ve never been really close to my dad, but now he can’t look at me. Treats me like scum.”

Dr. Mooney hummed, “Have you considered that perhaps he feels like he failed you?”

You flashed your eyes to Dr. Mooney’s, “What?”

“Your father. Oftentimes the people closest to us are so angry with themselves for not addressing the addictions they see in their loved ones that they will sometimes project their feelings outwards.”

You shook your head, “No, not him. He doesn’t blame himself, that much I know.”

“It’s something to consider though.”

“No.” You interjected, your voice hard, “It isn’t. My dad sees me for the whore that I am.”

Renee snickered beside you, clearly amused by your antics. Dr. Mooney widened his eyes, briefly flashing them towards Dr. Frazer who sat in a chair similar to your own outside the circle.

“Everyone here does.” You pointed out, gesturing to Renee, “She’s the only one who calls me what I am. Nympho, right.”

“_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name firmly, likely in an attempt to control the conversation being had in front of his boss, but you were having none of it.

“What?” You returned, shaking your head, “You taught us that the first step in recovery is admitting to our problems. I am a whore! I’m saying what it is!”

In that moment, your eyes landed on Rafe who sat beside Dr. Mooney. He was slouched in his seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest. You hated that you couldn’t make out what he was thinking or feeling, but you hated even more that his stare was unwavering as you made a spectacle of yourself.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” You pointed at Rafe. Then you turned to Renee, “And you’re a miserable bitch.” Renee laughed out loud at that.

“_____!” Dr. Mooney & Albert said your name in unison, but it didn’t deter you.

“And you two.” You stared at Dr. Mooney & Albert.

“You’re weak.” You said to Albert. The flash of hurt on his face stayed with you but a moment as you focused your attention on the doctor directly across from you, “And you’re a fucking creep.”

Dr. Mooney stood quickly then, dropping his clipboard onto his seat. You mirrored his movement, kicking your chair out from behind you so you could leave, “How’s that for harming those closest to me?”

“_____.” Dr. Mooney’s voice was hard but a harder, deeper voice overpowered his.

“Dr. Mooney.” Everyone stilled as Dr. Frazer spoke. It was only the second time in your stay at Arrowhead that you had heard his voice, “Sit back down.”

Dr. Frazer then turned his eyes onto you. In an instant, your rebellious attitude had been stamped out. Unable to stand all eyes on you, & more so, how you had spit some horrible words at people, one of whom you particularly cared about, you rushed out of the room. You were a coward.

No one came looking for you the rest of the day, not even Dr. Mooney. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. And now, you too didn’t have any friends. Albert had been your only one & you had insulted him in front of your peers. You cried yourself to sleep that night, knowing that the rest of your stay at the facility would be dreadful. But it was all your doing. There was no one to blame but yourself.

The next morning though, before even breakfast, Nurse Carney appeared in your doorway.

“Come with me.”

Nurse Carney was usually all smiles & sunshine trapped within human skin. But there was no smile or bright radiance emanating from her as she looked at you.

“Where are we going?”

But she said nothing.

So, you were forced to follow her through the corridors of the facility until she led you to the main office. At first, you thought she would bringing you to Dr. Mooney’s office, which you were far from looking forward to, however, she only led you past his office to another at the end of the hallway. The plate on the door made your stomach slosh.

Dr. Holden Frazer.

Oh, this couldn’t be good.

Nurse Carney knocked on the door before the same solid voice from the day before sounded from the other side. She opened the door, poking her head in, “I have _____ here for you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Carney. You may return to your duties.”

Nurse Carney nodded, backing up to let you pass. You locked eyes with her once more, but she did not return any sort of kindness in her eyes.

Dr. Frazer’s office was the complete opposite of Dr. Mooney’s. Whereas Dr. Mooney’s office was warm, welcoming, & comforting, Dr. Frazer’s was sterile, barren of any personality, & lacked any color. You felt immediately unease as you entered it.

Behind the desk. Dr. Frazer sat upright in his chair, his eyes watching you as you stood before him shamefully. He then gestured for you to sit in one of the two chairs before his desk. Your defiance had been eradicated since yesterday, so you slowly took a seat. The chair itself as cold & uninviting as the office around it.

“Your mother is on her way here.”

Your jaw dropped. Oh, fuck.

Dr. Frazer showed no reaction to your own, “After yesterday, she was called & informed about your outburst. So, she is coming in today for an appointment with myself to discuss your future here.”

You pressed your lips together, “You’re kicking me out?”

“That is up to her.” Dr. Frazer responded coldly.

“And my father?”

Dr. Frazer remained stoic, “Busy.”

Of course. Of course he wouldn’t want to come. He was already ashamed of you. He didn’t need you to humiliate him further.

You swallowed, “I’m sorry about yester—”

“Apologies do not suffice here, Miss _____.” Dr. Frazer cut you off, “Your behaviour yesterday was unacceptable. You attacked patients & your attending doctor.”

You hung your head, feeling heat bloom along your spine.

“I know…”

Silence hung in the air for a beat before Dr. Frazer spoke again.

“She will be here within in the hour. I suggest you make yourself presentable & be on your best behaviour if you want to continue your treatment here.”

You raised your head to meet his eyes behind your lashes.

“Dismissed.”

Surprised at his aloofness, you slowly raised yourself out of the seat. Though corporal punishment was no longer allowed in such facilities & care centers, you sure felt like you just had the whipping of your life.

Exiting Dr. Frazer’s office, you found your way back to your room, ignoring any curious eyes or whispers as you passed by other patients. In the common area, you spotted Albert & Siena lounging on the couch. Albert met your eyes briefly before shaking his head at you & looking away. He was no longer your friend, & you didn’t blame him.

In your room, you got dressed & applied what little make-up you were allowed to bring to the center. You feared facing your mother & that disappointed look in her eyes, but you were grateful your father wouldn’t be joining her. It wasn’t like you were hoping to see him any time soon either after what he suggested was happening between you & Dr. Mooney the last time he was here.

After you finished getting ready, you decided to remain hidden in your room until Nurse Carney or another employee came looking for you. You were restless as you waited, watching the hour pass by. Your mother was surely there at that point & yet no one had come for you. You wondered if their meeting was to be one-on-one, & you would know your fate afterwards.

It was only when another forty-five minutes passed after your mother’s expected arrival that a knock came on your door.

“Come in.” You announced, though your voice was small.

It was an assistant nurse who informed you that your mother was waiting for you in the lobby. Following the nurse, you were relieved that there were no familiar faces in the common area. Once in the lobby, you spotted your mother as she spoke heatedly on her cell phone. The nurse left you as you waited off to the side for you mother to get off the phone. She was likely speaking to your father, updating him on how you were no longer allowed treatment at Arrowhead.

However, once she got off the phone & spotted you, she grinned & approached you before embracing you.

“Oh, honey.” She smelled like rose water. You buried your face into her blazer as she held you. Tears unexpectedly wetted the collar of her jacket.

“Mom, I’m sorry.” You lifted your head to look at her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Baby.” She cupped your cheek before glancing around, “C’mon darling. We’re going out for lunch.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Your mother frowned then, “Not here. There’s a lot we must talk about.”

Your mother was not a fan of Dr. Frazer; she made that abundantly clear as she drove the two of you to a nearby brunch spot.

“What a cold man.” She had commented, “And how dare he suggest your removal because of a little outburst. Ya know, Steve Summers put his nephew up at Arrowhead, it’s how we learned about it, & that boy was a handful. The stories Steve told your father & I about how much trouble he caused at that facility, yet they kept him. And that doctor, if you can even call him that, has the audacity to want to have you removed? Over my dead body.”

Your mother’s protectiveness made you smile for the first time in a long time. Now you wish you had been preset in their meeting to see her give Dr. Frazer the same no bullshit attitude he dished.

“So, I’m staying?”

“Of course!” Your mother shook her head, “It’s the best treatment center within 100 miles & I’ll be damned if we put somewhere less than that.”

You felt conflicted at staying, but at least you wouldn’t embarrass your father further.

Speaking of your dad, “How’d dad take it?”

Your mother sighed, pursing her lips, “I haven’t told him. Won’t tell him.”

This was shocking, & out of character. A million questions lied at the tip of your tongue, but your mother pulled into the restaurant. Once the two of you were seated, you were finally able to ask the first of many.

“Why aren’t you telling dad?” You asked, uninterested in the food menu before you.

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Your mother informed you. Her behaviour changed then, her poise transitioning from confident to worrisome.

“Your father is going to trial in a couple weeks.”

“What?!” She shushed you at your surprised reaction.

“Honey, lower your voice.”

Lowering your voice, you repeated the shock, “Trial for what?”

She sighed, dropping her own menu on the table, “John is suing him.”

Your heart sped up. His TA was suing him?

“For wrongful termination.” Your mother shared further.

You sputtered, “What? That’s fucking stupid.”

“Language.” She reprimanded but ultimately nodded, “But I agree. Unfortunately, John knows what he’s doing. He’ll lose but he doesn’t care.”

“If he’s going to lose then why is it going to trial?”

Your mother peered at you then, her eyes sorrowful, “To get the attention of the university. When a case goes to trial any faculty involved must be suspended until the trial closes.”

“He’s doing it to punish him…” Your voice softened.

“Yes.” Your mother nodded, “He doesn’t care about winning any money otherwise he would’ve settled out of court. What he wants is to ruin your father’s name.”

You collapsed against your seat, tears lining your vision, “This is all my fault.”

“Oh, honey…” But she didn’t argue against your claim.

“If I hadn’t…” You licked your dry lips, “Then dad would be fine.”

The two of you sat in silence for some time while your mother ordered for the both of you. But once the food came, you hardly touched your plate as your mother picked at hers.

“Fortunately,” your mother began, “it will be a closed trial. But…”

You stared at her, “But what?”

“Because your father fired John for, you know, your name & condition will be revealed.”

“They can do that?”

“You’re not a minor, honey. And having placed you into a recovery center, it shows that your father is aware of your… problems. He could be held accountable.”

“Wait, so, John could win?”

“It’s very unlikely.” Your mother reminded you, “Your father has a good set of lawyers defending his case.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said.” The cracks in your mother’s tough exterior was beginning to show. She wasn’t telling you the full truth, that your father may actually lose the case, thus ultimately his career & reputation.

“I can’t believe this happening.” And it was all your fault. If only you hadn’t approached John, just left him alone. Then none of this would be happening.

“It’ll be okay. But that’s why I won’t be telling your father about yesterday. He already has enough going on.”

“Yeah, I get it.” You whispered, shameful.

Your mother got the check & once the two of you were in the car on the way back to the facility, you finally answered the question you knew she was avoiding thinking about.

“What if he loses, Mom?”

Your mother gripped your hand, shaking it in a reassuring manner. She smiled at you, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes, “He won’t.”

But you weren’t so sure.

After your mom dropped you off out front, Nurse Carney was waiting for you. She led you back inside. It was midday, lunch time. You had hardly eaten at the restaurant, but your appetite had disappeared with the information surrounding your father’s upcoming trial. Nurse Carney checked you in at the desk then dismissed you to head back to your common area. But your heart was racing, your head was full of noise. You needed to talk to someone. Now.

Ignoring her, you instead went in the opposite direction of the youth wing & towards the doctor’s offices.

“_____!” Nurse Carney hollered behind you. You sped up in your walk as you heard her exit the front office to follow after you.

You had just made it to your destination, knocking rapidly on the door when Nurse Carney appeared next to you.

“You are not following protocol.”

“Fuck your protocol.” You rushed out, your breathing coming in shallowly.

Then the door before you swung open & Dr. Mooney stood in surprise as his eyes glanced between you & Nurse Carney.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Mooney, I’ll take her back to her room.”

But Dr. Mooney frowned, looking at you, “Are you okay?”

“No.” Tears skipped down your cheeks, “I really need you.”

He took you in for a moment longer before nodding once, “It’s okay, Nurse Carney. I’ll see her back myself.”

It was obvious that Nurse Carney didn’t agree but she wouldn’t argue.

Dr. Mooney closed the door behind you as you stepped inside to stand in the middle of his office. Sobs racked your body as you finally broke down.

“_____, what’s going on?”

But you couldn’t talk. Not yet. Instead, you broke another protocol.

You couldn’t think about Rafe’s intrusive words or Albert’s year old gossip. What you needed right then was the only person who had consistently shown care towards you in the last couple months. Spinning around, you hugged Dr. Mooney. You latched your arms together around his back & pressed your face into his chest. You didn’t care about the no contact policy. Because right then you didn’t view yourself as a patient or Dr. Mooney as your care provider. What you needed was the only friend you had in this hell hole.

Dr. Mooney never returned the hug, but neither removed you. He let you cry against him. And for that you were thankful. However, after a few minutes & you had calmed down, he gently placed his hands on your shoulders & placed some distance between the two of you. He angled his head to meet your bleary eyes.

“Talk to me.”

You shook your head, “I can’t do this alone.”

He frowned but nodded, “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. I promise.”

And you knew it to be true. Dr. Mooney would never let you down, & that’s exactly what you needed.

a much longer part to i burn! i wanted to give you all a pretty lengthy update as i won't be able to update either of my rafe series for maybe another week as i will be going on vacation! so, always, please share your thoughts w me via comments, reblogs w reviews, or talking to me in the ask box. i love all the love ya'll send my way!

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 13 days

Text

Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

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