#where do i even start with t his horseshit okay here we fucking go.

[gregoftom]

pretty sure i’ve seen romance movies with scenes like this

#tomgreg #where do i even start with t his horseshit okay here we fucking go. #so tom's first instinct is to go to greg when he's on shaky ground with shiv. the only way he feels safe is to have GREG with him. #who tf would want greg as an attack dog??!?!? lets be fucking real. when he says that i think he means just a dog. just someone loyal. #who loves him and won't dick him around. i think he's pretty tired of it by now. #he wants an alliance with like. ok in this show who would you pick to ally with. i love greg but he's abso useless in terms of skills that #would keep you safe. if anything TOM would keep HIM safe. in fact tom himself says who else has taken care of you. literally spells it out. #he even says greg is a joke; will fail; will fuck up; so what use does he have for tom other than companionship. other than love? #a dog might do tricks for you but your main reason for getting one is usually love. right? at least it should be. it would be in tom's case. #and don't even fucking get me STARTED on ''do you wanna come with me? ...sporus?" like girl. #you know what you told him about nero and sporus right. and now you're saying to him; yeah i was talking about you. #you and me. you're my favourite and i wasn't joking when i said i'd marry you. #the whole while tom is asking greg to be his attack dog his fuckin. eyes and expression we get it you're in love with him. like it's ridic. #and all this coming with phrasing it sounds like they're fucking ELOPING. I HATE IT!!!!!! SHUT UP! stop saying that fucking shit god. god #they are so annoying. anyway #the way tom's voice breaks as he says he has things to do [what things. will i find out later.] and the deal and!! #what am i gonna do with a soul anyways... i have you what do i need it for. and as that paragraph said somewhere. he castrates his soul. #then they giggle and are fucking annoying and greg'S HANDS LOOK LIK EHE'S ABOUT TO IDK. HUG TOM? AROUND THE MIDDLE MAYBE #or do something else. and then they just hug instead and i fucking. ugh. i've had enough tbh good fucking bye

[jokersmeowmeow]

Apex Legends - affection hcs <333

Yooo y'all, I'm sorry I've been absent for quite a looong time, BUT I've been busy and unfortunately I still am, so here I can offer You some hcs with our lovely legends to recompensate my inactivity :3

Mirage:

Soft. Softer. THE SOFTEST!!!

Mirage is the most touch-starved person You've ever seen, but how can You possibly mind? He is an angel <333

He may make an impression of a laid-back alvaro, but he's actually really anxious about what he can and can't do with You - You have to state Your boundaries clear.

After You do this, he is STILL unsure about everything and in need of constant reassurance if this is okay if he touches You like this or kisses like that, but that only adds to his cuteness.

Simple gestures are able to melt him completely, just cup his face and tell him You love him, kiss the tip of his nose, nuzzle against him, and he'll be all Yours, almost in tears.

He longs for such affection and reciprocates every single act of it; for instance, he adores hugging You from behind randomly and hide his face in the crook of Your neck to breathe in the smell of Yours and feel the velvet softness of Your skin.

His growth brushing against Your neck tickles You and hence causes You to giggle - listening to Your laugh soothes him totally.

He does his best to complement You, as he thinks You deserve it and he regards You as the most perfect person he's met, even more perfect than him ;DDD (seriously, because he really thinks that, he's gonna boast about You being his lady all the time so that the whole world shall know You're a couple)

B U T

He's bad with words, we know that. Stuttering ruins and at the same time makes everything more adorable when it comes to Mirage

"Oooh sweety, You look so so extrard-ext-extraordrin... Just amazing, You look amazing..."

His face turns blood red in seconds, but to be honest with You, that's the moment in which You want to spread kisses all over his face the most.

After a long day apart, prepare for being trapped in a makeahift cage of his arms and arms of his decoys.

He just runs to You excitedly with his arms spread widely, wraps them around You, and then You feel more and more of them snaking here and there. He missed You and can't imagine not exposing his longing for You to You.

He tries to do his best in Your relationship, he really does, but his anxiety hidden under the veneer of pride tells him he isn't enough for You, so talk to him about that, learn him how to cope with feelings and not be ashamed of them; he'll be more than thankful, nothing solves problems better than honest conversation.

Moreover, after a hard "psychology session", he enjoys sharing a hot, steamy shower with You.

He rests his forehead against Yours and closes his eyes; now You can see him as himself, no pretending, no fake confidence, no armor, just his bare body, naked mind and boiling water streaming down Your chests and backs.

Bangalore:

This woman. She is tough. She has no weak spots... Apart from You.

She casually looks as if she was ready for murder, but when she looks at You, she immediately softens.

You're like pain killers to her; You calm her down in split seconds and it's amazing to watch her features soothe, one of the corners of her lips travel up in a delicate, hardly noticeable smile.

She isn't an affectionate kind of person, especially in front of the others, but she is more than glad to receive affection from You.

She gives the best bear hugs and let me tell You, the feeling of the warmth of her muscular, womanly body, the plush of her breasts and hard abdomen... It's irreplacable.

She doesn't say it out loud then, but You can perfectly sense how devoted to Your relationship she is, she confesses her loyalty to You with her whole form embracing Your own.

One of her favourite moments during the day are early mornings; she usually wakes up just before dawn while You're still deeply asleep. Then, she can adore Your peaceful face looming up from under the duvet and graced with first golden rays of sunlight finding their way to Your bedroom through the window.

Before she leaves, careful not to wake You up, she watches You for a while and tries to picture this beautiful view in her mind precisely and keep there for the rest of the day.

She kisses Your forehead gently and silently gets out of the room, one last time glancing at You behind her back from above her shoulder before shutting the door.

She's keen to talk to You about everything and she's beyond recognition then; You can talk to her about everything and nothing, starting from Your own serious issues and ending on exchanging some girlish gossips.

Whatever topic You throw on her, she's always willing to not only listen to You, but also actively partakes in the conversation.

During such talks, she really does enjoy having her arm wrapped around You whilst You're resting against her on the couch.

She'll most probably be caressing Your shoulder with her thumb without even realizing it.

Your laugh causes her to laugh widely, which is a wonderful chain reaction as she rarely smiles on her own.

I must mention jealousy here; Bang hates seeing someone flirting with You.

Her face lines turn even sharper, she grits her teeth not to let herself lose control over her emotions.

But if she has enough, she'll most certainly approach You two steadily, pull You to her side and glare deadly at the motherfucker daring to flirt with You as if she was looking at a pathetic pile of horseshit.

It's likely she'll warn them to fuck off before she shoves a granade up their ass.

I know this is amusing and boosts Your ego, but spare her nerves, she just can't lose You and wants to be the best version of herself for You.

Pathinder:

Cinnamon roll made of metal.

He loves everyone as friends and because, unlike the most of the others, You actually reciprocate his affection, he WORSHIPS You in particular.

He's a hug-person, that's why often he forgots how painful it is when he wraps his arms a little too tightly around You.

When You politely tell him to let You go and state why, he's a trembling mess.

He asks You questions whether he harmed You, made You uncomfortable and if You're okay. Reassure him everything's okay, please, all he wants is to make You feel loved and appreciated.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, friend... Can I get a second chance? I promise I won't be uncomfortable anymore" 👉👈

You can't say "no" to him; he hugs You much more tenderly, he's calculating his every move when he slowly embraces You again.

He may be boxy and angular, but the metal he's build of is pleasantly warm, or at least it seems like it because of Path in general.

You press Your hands to his back and cheek to his chest, and when You open Your eyes, pink light radiating from the screen on his torso blinds You as a large, smiley face with heart-eyes appears on it.

This causes You to giggle, and then him; You two could stay like this for eons, him resting his head on the tip of Yours and just, laughing innocently like little children.

He's the number one comforter, this needs to be said. Whenever You feel blue, Path emerges near You out of nowhere and is ready to give his best to You.

His arm is instantly around You; he takes You somewhere peaceful and quiet, probably to Your bedroom, and sits You gently on the edge of Your bed.

He kneels in front of You, palming Your hands on Your knees and looking up at Your sorrow face.

"Hey, I don't like it when You're sad, it makes me sad, too. Path is here for You, and will be even when they break me apart. That'd be even better! There would be more of me to listen to You!"

His positivity, even in the darkest of times, is able to lift anyone's spirits in a flash.

While venting Your disappointment, anger, helplessness and other damaging emotions on him, he listens to You letting Your words sink in his mind and brushes single tears flowing down Your swollen cheeks every now and then with his thumb.

Surprisingly, he's more gentle than any man build of flesh, You wouldn't recognize whether it's the touch of his robotic fingers or soft human hands if You didn't know him.

He a l w a y s manages to make You laugh somehow, You actually don't even notice when Your mood changes from gloomy and suicidal to amused and happy.

"Low-five?" he asks, still crouching and showing his flat hand to You, so that You can give him low "high-five" and begin Your day again, but better.

Octane:

Speedy boi only You are able to slow down.

There's a significant spark of rivarly burning between You and keeping Your relationship sufficiently heated.

And that's why You enjoy competitive video games; You sit on the couch next to each other and follow the flying controllers in Your hands.

At some point You begin to interrupt each other's playing not only virtually, but in real life as well.

He nudges You with his elbow and You give it back by shoving Your smaller form towards him with the maximal strength.

Finally, You put the game aside and You start wrestling; it looks a little brutal, but You both know it's just fun.

You roll down from the sofa and fall on the floor, Your limbs tangled together, You two laughing and screaming at each other; an adorable picture of the pair of energetic fireballs.

You don't even care whether anybody remarks on Your playful joshing, at most You just stop for few seconds and simultaneously snap at them.

Then, You continue what You've started and what I must state here is the fact that Octane isn't merciful. He comes up with an idea of tickling.

You can't even attempt to grab his hand and stop him, he is already faster than You and he knows EXACTLY where to touch You to make You double up with laughter.

Only when he pins You to the ground by Your wrists and You officially give up, he lets You go, proud of his success.

He loves sneaking behind You and picking You up randomly during the day, making You shriek and swear in surprise.

He loves it when You swear at him in spanish, especially if it's him who taught You his native language.

You sometimes do this on purpose just to see him staring at You blankly.

He's also more than glad to give You piggyback; having You pressed against his back and giggle in his ear is pure bliss, what man wouldn't love that?

He may start spinning around or run with You on his back so be prepared, he's unpredictable, especially when excited, even without drugs.

Last, but not least, if You manage to somehow calm him down and sit him still, when You're snuggling against his side, he gets flustered by the view of Your leg caressingly sliding up and down his prosthesis.

"Ah, hermosa, eres mi mejor droga."

Fuse:

The daddiest daddy among all the daddies in the world. Lucky You!

He's the type of man loyal to You to the grave and he's more than pleased to show it; he rarely leaves Your side, places his hand on Your hip or loosely embraces Your shoulders with his arm.

He subtly establishes the boundaries of reciprocal contact between You and someone who might be potentially interested in You, but he's not possessive. This man doesn't lack finesse if he wants.

You kindle the flame of artistic creativity within him, thus he writes songs for You; he loves singing them and playing his guitar for You later.

He may forget to go on with the lyrics if You start swaying to the rhythm of his music. He knows You do this to purposely tease him and test his patience, but he's prepared for losing all of his attention divisibilty.

Focusing his gaze on Your effortless, wanton moves is enough to make his day.

When he's done playing, he expects appreciation with words ("Aaand? How was it, m'lady, eeh?") and with actions (he usually pokes his cheek and awaits well-deserved kiss).

For the first time, You fell for his little trick he pulled on You; when You were going to place a kiss on his cheek in rewarding gesture, he lightly grabs You by Your chin and makes You kiss him on his lips.

After that incident, every time You reward him, You intentionally "fall" for these tricks of his or it's You who pulls him for the kiss first.

You two giggle into each other's mouths and wordlessly swear to make that little game Your own ritual.

Often, when the situation gets heated, he finds his way to Your neck and the touch of his rough mustache on Your delicate skin sends shivers down Your spine - he loves it when Your throat vibrates because of Your sirenic chuckle.

You adore joking together; he's the master of pun and dad jokes, hence You two sometimes get trapped in a vicious circle of laughter.

Then, You just lean against each other and laugh so hard tears start flowing down Your cheeks, especially when each of You tell new jokes, funnier and funnier than previous ones.

Of course, You two enjoy a good, old game of poker, too; You sit opposite each other on the bed, legs crossed, and try so hard not to snort while glancing at each other's pokerfaces.

He attempts to distract You, make You laugh, cheat and make this card game the most ridiculous it only can be and You hit back, obviously.

If he wins, You throw cards in the air and make him pay for it; You jump on him, but he's quick to incapacitate You by lying his bulky body on Yours so that You have to haul Yourself up from under him to catch a breath.

If You win, it pretty much ends in the same way.

#apex legends #apex mirage #apex octane #apex bangalore #apex fuse #apex pathfinder #apex headcanon #apex hcs #apex game #apex fandom

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay lasertag!!! Janus you should totally go visit Remus on the weekend and hang out! Also, maybe invite Remy too, if they wanna come. Then (specially if they don't show) you can plan with them both to maybe go on another hangout with Remus but to somewhere you like and let Remy tag along for the ride if they wanna while u're at it.

(Words: 3153 words)

Janus: "Ah yes! I will let you know that after hanging out with Remus I managed to use my incredible totally very good texting skills to ask the Rems if they wanted to go to an art museum and they both for some reaosn, maybe they are being blackmailed, said yes! I hope it will go g-"

He cut himself off as he saw the two Rems come towards him. He had been waiting outside the museum. (Honestly half the reason he had choosen it was because he knew Remus liked art)

Remus waved at him while grinning. He had on sweatpants, a way too large t-shirt and a necklace made out of animal bones. Remy had their arm swung around him. Even though they had sunglasses on their eyebags were still visible.

“Aight gamers! Are we ready to do an epic art heist!! I got my sunglasses ready!” Remus exclaimed. He didn’t, he was planning on stealing Remy’s sunglasses.

“Partner you’re forgetting that we must first observe the security measures of the museum before we can even start to plan the heist” Janus replied.

“Oh!!! That’s what we’re doing today isn’t it??”

“Correct partner!”

“Babes I dunno why you gotta steal art when I’m standing right here” Remy added while posing.

“Good point. Good point” 

Janus had on a yellow bowtie he’d gotten from Logan, a loose purple shirt and black dress pants. People had to look fancy when they went to museums right? Remy had a skirt short enough to fool god and their boyfriend’s hoodie on (it looked oversized on them but with how skinny they were Everything looked oversized on them).

As soon as they got in Remus started to bounce up and down as he looked at the posters showing all the different exhibitions. There was a modern art one, classical and one smaller exhibition for specifically mosaic works.

“So whatcha you wanna look at Snakey?” Remus asked.

Janus was caught of guard “Why are you asking me?”

“Well you chose how we would hang out. C’mon you deserve to choose this too”

He looked over to Remy who shrugged “Uhm okay. Well. The classical paintings would proably give us the most money on the black market so lets look at those”

“Yay!” 

Remus quickly took on his noise canceling headphones and a chew necklace before doing thumbs up. He firmly took Janus’ hand in his. He sent him a soft smile which made Jan’s heart spin before dashing of with him into the exhibition.

A few big paintings from the renaissance hung on the wall. Remy came a little later since with the cane they walked pretty slow. Remus eyed the paintings from a distance before squinting at them up close. He flapped the hand he was hoding Janus with around.

"Oh!!! This is so cool!!!! This is from the renaissance but it's not using the chiaro oscuro technique like everyone did 'cause Da Vinci would eat their newborn if they didnt!”

"Is that why it's looking flatter than me?" Remy asked.

“YEah!! Augh I love the renaissance!!! Mostly because they were dissecting bodies so much!! sometimes for the sole purpose of drawing anatomy better!! I wanna do that! Or watch someone do that! Getting to see one of those old classrooms where they dissected corpses would be so awesome!”

“Huh good way to get rid of bodies. Great time for serial killers” Janus commented.

He let out a dreamy sigh “It truly was. They’re doing serial killers dirty nowadays”

They went through some more rooms of renaissance paintings. Janus made sure to hold Remus back a bit so Remy could keep up with them. The duke kept rambling about different shading techniques.

They stepped into another room and the style changed. Remus continued to flap his hand nonetheless. Janus was definitely going to have pain in his wrist tomorrow. It was worth it if he could hold his hand though.

Remy leaned their elbow on top of Janus’ head “This is like the baroque time right?”

“YEah!” Remus’ eyes went huge “Bean you didn’t tell me you were into art history??! Do you know about Ruben too?? I like how he paints butts!”

“What? Nah. I just- I can like see it on the clothes in the paintings. Can’t you?”

“Do I look like a time traveling fashiong guru” Janus replied sarcastically “That is honestly impressive”

Remy sunk in on themself and a hint of red appeared on their cheeks “No. Nah. I’m like a total airhead! Completel idiot! hehe I’m like tots sure everyone knows this stuff. Y’all are just bad at fashion. I uh anyway Rem you were gonna rant?”

“I was?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh....Okay!!” He looked around the room before getting caught on a small painting in the corner. He dashed over to it “HANds!”

The painting depicted 2 bloody hands over a table. They were holding onto each other. the red stuck out against the dark background. It was hard to see if they were supposed to belong to two people who were fighting or in love.

Remus looked down at Janus’ hand while playing with his fingers “I think my favorite body part are hands” He mumbled “I mean they’re horseshit to draw but they can do so much”

Janus looked away from the painting as well. He let his crush do whatever he wanted with his hand as long as he kept holding it. the way he held him so lightly but kept rubbing his thumb up and down his skin made him melt.

“Yeah they can do a lot of fucked up shit” Remy butted in. Jan nearly jumped. He’d completely lost himself in adoring his crush.

“Well hands can also be used to give snakes small berries! And to make coffee!”

“Girl I wasn’t starting an argument. But you sure did won it!”

Remus was staring down into the floor as he said “When I become a cannibal I would wanna try eating human fingers first. I’m sure they would be tasty”

“Why was there a when in there?” Jan asked in a small amount of terror.

“Oh yeah babe totally. I will like actually eat a dick” Remy agreed.

“Why is there a will in there? What kind of time tenses are you people on?? Does english grammar mean nothing to you heathens!?”

Remy got a smug look on their face. They poked their finger right into Janus’ chest “C’mon say what you will eat when you become a cannibal”

“Yeah Snakey” Remus squished his cheeks “Say it! Say it! Say it!”

The two of them kept going on while Janus looked like a sour lemon until he finally caved in.

“Fine. I would either eat the stomach or....the buttocks since they would have the most fat and sustain me the longest”

The Rems looked at each other before bursting out into laughter. “He said butT!” Remus cackled out. The other Rem nodded along and pretended to wipe away a tear from laughter.

“Aight babe let’s put the guy out of his misery” 

They motioned for Remus to go ahead. He happily skipped into the next room and grabbed Jan’s hand to take him with him. The snake couldn’t help but notice how Remy stayed behind for a monent.

“Oh cool!! We’re onto impressionism! The first real art style!” He sighed “From impressionism to cartoon furries. How magical the journey of art is” 

(Jan who had a scaley phase in high school chose to not reply)

“I love the music as well. Crazy lads. My favorite lad?” Remus snickered “De bussy!!”

“That’s my porn name” Remy instantly replied, coming up behind them. “Hey that paint lady kinda like looks like Terra” They pointed at a painting.

“....Hey YEaH! I guess my art is timeless!”

Janus looked between them “who’s Terra?”

“Well girl” Remy playfully ruffled Remus’ hair “She’s just Rem’s tots cool like cartoon character. She’s like all over his sketchbook. Makes it look kinda straight if you ask me but she does have like a very cool design so I get it!”

“Oh......Yes...Sounds very....cool”

The group kept going around looking at art. While it felt like lead was filling Janus’ chest. He’d never heard about Terra. He’d never seen his sketchbook. Meaning they had spent time with each other without him.

He pierced his nails into his palms to stop the thoughts. He refused to be some jealous person who didn’t allow his friends to hang out without him.....Still he wish he could have seen the drawings as well....seen them smile together...heard their shared laughter....

Oh. Oh what if they thought he was annoying. What if they preferred being without him. What if he’d forced them to come here today. What if-

“Hey snakey wanna look at the modern art as well?” Remus interrupted.

“What?” 

Without realizing they’d gone through all of the classic art. Now they were in the last room with not much more than a giant painting the size of one of the walls and a bench.

“That sounds horrid!”

“Yay!”

Remus quickly continued of into the next exhibition. Janus still had the taste of lead filling his throat as he went to follow. Until he realized Remy wasn’t there. He turned around and saw them sitting on the bench in front of the painting. They were leaning their arms on their cane.

“It would probably give us a lot on the black market” Jan said while sitting down beside them.

“Mhm. It’s pretty. I just like wanted to look at it some more” They lied.

“Understandable” 

The painting was pretty much a big flower field with a summer sky shining down on it. Janus noticed how Remy forced deep breathes through their gritted teeth. Their brows were furrowed and their hands kept shaking.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course!” 

“I have some painkillers with me. Would that help agains the pain you’re totally not in?”

They glanced over to him “Girl what you doing walking around with painkillers?”

He looked at them with the most deadpan expression “Remy I’m overweight. You can not phantom how often I get knee pain" He took out a pill and held it out to them "Here"

"There's really like no need! I can like handle it"

Even more deadpan "You shouldn’t have to ‘handle it’. It's 1 painkiller dear. I'm not exactly becoming a saint because of this"

They hesitantly took it "Thanks"

He did fingerguns "No problemo"

They stayed sitting for a bit so the pill could kick in. Jan shuly glanced over to admire them every now and then. Remy kept looking down into the floor while picking at their skin.

“I’m sorry” They said it in a much quieter voice than their usual high pitched one “I tried to do everything right so I wouldn’t ruin everything. I even went to bed early so I wouldn’t get tired....I...I really looked forward to getting to be with you two”

Janus heart beat faster. He pulled himself together to comfort them “You haven’t ruined a thing”

They hid their face in their hands “I’ve been tired and out of it all day. I keep like slowing you down. Don’t think I haven’t like noticed how much you have to hold Rem back from going faster! I’ve just been making this all much worse than it should have been”

“Well you’re here aren’t you? I for one appreciate you simply being here. You don’t have to do anything to make me appreciate you, don’t even have to talk. I hope you know that”

“....really?”

“Oh no darling I totally expect you to win the nobel prize while in a kind of pain I can’t even imagine being in on a daily basis”

Remy chuckled “Thanks”

“There’s really no need for that. I am at any and all times doing the absolute minimum to be counted as a decent human being”

“Sure snakey-babey” They had a soft smile on their face.

They moved to hug him. Their arms wrapped around his back and they muffled their head right between his man titties. Janus sat still for a few seconds, too flustered to think before moving his arms around them as well. A hand on the back of their head, another on their lower back. Their skin felt so cold against his.

Remy closed their eyes and let themself calm down. They could feel Janus’ breathing against their hair.

“I think my fav like human part is the chest” They mumbled out “‘Cause I can hear the heart beat. It reminds me I’m- we’re still like alive”

“Like a bloody biological seashell”

“Exactly” They pressed themself closer. “I like being with you” It was nothing more than a whisper, like it was a secret “When you’re here I feel a bit less like a rotting corpse”

Janus held onto them harder “Well I-I try my best”

“I know babe”

His heart was beating out of his chest. The people around them must think they were a couple. He closed his eyes and focused on Remy’s touch, on Picani’s words from their last session. He managed to push enough of the shame away and focus on the happy butterflies in his stomach instead.

Remy moved away. The moment broke.

“We should probs go find Rem before he starts like eating the art”

“haha yeah” Janus did thumbs up but kept sitting. He’d gone full idiot.

It wasn’t until he saw Remy straining to stand up even with the cane his brain kicked back in.

“Is there some way I could help?”

They didn’t answer. But they did lean their arm around his shoulder to let him carry some of their weight. They slowly but surely made their way to the modern art exhibition.

Remus was sitting crosslegged in front of a weird statue, he was doodling in his sketchbook but shone up into a smile when he saw them.

“There you are! I was starting to think that either the zombie apocalypse had started or you were making out somehwere”

“Oh yeah babe. Full tounge” Remy joked back. Jan let out an inhumane noise.

He closed his sketchbook “I think we’re done here. You’re looking tired beanie. We can come back some other day”

Remy held back the urge to lie that they were fine. Instead they weakly nodded.

The gang left the museum. Right beside it was an ice cream shop. Remus got 3 scoops of a worryingly weird mix of flavors. Janus got 1 scoop of lemon. Remy didn’t feel like eating.

They sat down on a couple of benches right outside. Remy laid down with their head leaned onto Remus’ thigh. He chewed his ice cream while calmly moving his hand up and down their back.

Soon enough they were deep asleep. Janus quickly laid his jacket over their legs. He didn’t want to accidentally see anything under their skirt without their consent.

Remus stared at him like a blood sucking eagle while smiling “Soooo now when beanie is in dream land.......Do” He stopped to giggle “Janny. Janny. Do. Do you like someooooonnneee??”

Janus just blinked at him for half a minute. This was too much. This whole day was too much. He was a wreck. His crush was asking him THis?! While his other crush was laying in his crush’s lap?!?

“Why- Why- What- Who are you working for?! The fucking FBI??? Are they after me?” He desperately tried to joke it away.

“No. No. But seriously JanJan!” He wiggled his shoulders around in a stimmy way “Do you happen to like anyone with a name that starts on R????”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Janus kept glancing between his two crushes while his blushing could be seen out into space. He wanted to lie but his mouth wouldn’t move.

Remus leaned closer and whispered “You’re into Remy right?”

He nodded. A breathe of relief went through him. At least Remus didn’t know he liked him.

“OH I KNEW IT!” Remus yelled out in excitement while flapping his hands.

“Shh! Shh!” Janus scrambled to cover his mouth as Remy stirred for a moment. “Shhhh!” They cuddled closer to their friend and fell back asleep.

“I knew it!” He giggled “Or I mean Remy knew. They told me they thought you were into them”

“WHAT?!” 

Now it was Remus that covered his mouth. He was full on cackling “Yeah! They said it was really obvious! But good for you snakey! I’m sure if you murder their boyfriend you can get them in no time! Or you can become a fab homewrecker!! I can help you buy a nice sexy dress and all!!”

Janus paled in terror “How- In- What- In what way did they say it was obvious?”

“Oh y’know-”

The notif on his phone went off. He checked and his eyes went wide. He carefully moved Remy’s head onto the bench before standing up.

“Sorry snakey! Ro needs super duper emergency help! Gotta go!! See you later! Don’t die!”

Remus left him just like that.  Right after dropping THAT bomb on him. Janus sat unmoving. His mouth was slightly agape in shock. His thoughts were runnig around screaming nonstop.

He sat like that for over 20 minutes until Remy let out a yawn and slowly woke up. They took off their sunglasses to rub their eyes. Just seeing their vibrantly green eyes made Janus panic even more.

“Did Rem disintegrate?” Their voice was hoarse from sleepyness. Janus pinched himself to hold back the uhm feelings.

“He- he uh he went he went he sure did went yeah”

“....Cool!”

They stretched their joints, they all cracked. They looked to Janus and moved closer. He couldn’t breathe. They knew. They knew. They knew.

“Girl are you feeling okay?” They pressed their palm to his forehead “You’re like super hot. In both ways! Maybe you should like go home and rest. I gotta get home before my boyf gets home anyway”

“Y-yeah” Was all Janus could get out.

“Cool. OH! By the way! Girl!!! We haven’t like hung out just the two of us right?? We should tots do that! Just like tell me whatever you wanna do and we can do it!”

“Yeah”

“Awesome! Well I’ll see you on that hang out then”

They hugged him for just a few seconds but for those seconds Janus felt like he was in heaven.

They got up and left. Janus slumped over on the bench. His heart was going crazy. They knew. They knew and now they wanted to hang out alone with him. He turned to you. His eyes were wide and panicked.

Janus: “W-what am I supposed to do? I don’t know any good hang out plans! Do you know any??? I’m- this is all- how did they even know I like them! Oh I’m sounding like an overdramatic 13 year old.....This totally isn’t really overwhelming. I would hate getting Logan cuddles right now!”

#thanks for the ask!! #im sorry these keep getting longer #i really do try to cut them down #dukeceit #demus #janus sanders #remus sanders #remy sanders #mini fic #sanders sides #desleep #desleepmus #dukeceitsleep

[ceilingfan5]

Ballet au/road trip au for taakitz??

thanks again to @desiree-harding-fic for the ballet

part one

Funny thing...turns out Kravitz the Ballet Robot has feelings. It’s a hell of a job, and it would overwhelm anyone, but Taako gets the pressure of being the lead, not to mention the mental and physical strain of it all, double digit hours a day, six days a week. Kravitz has a hard time talking about it as they walk to Taako’s shitty car, but Taako gets the gist--he’s headed to breakdown city, population growing.

“Don’t you have friends you could talk to about this?” Taako asks. Kravitz is unbearably silent. “Yikes. Okay, shit. Damn, no wonder you’re falling apart. What, uh, what set you off tonight?” 

“I stepped on my ankle wrong and I thought my career was going to be over.” 

“That’d, uh, yeah, that’d do it.” They’re still sitting in the parking lot, Taako struggling not to yawn, Kravitz struggling not to cry. Taako’s plied him with fast food napkins he’d stashed in the console and he’s feeling pretty damn vindicated that he’s stolen so many over the years. He looks at Kravitz’s sad puppydog face and sighs. “Fuck, dude, can you take a day? Hang out, sleep, do some hobbies or whatever?”

“I couldn’t!” 

“Literally why not?”

“Taako, you know why not. They need me. I can’t let them down. It’s so competitive. And if I take a day, someone could replace me for good.” As he lists reasons, Taako watches Kravitz’s shoulders go up and up and up until Kravitz looks so tense and awkward he’s afraid his spine is gonna snap. 

“Listen, like, not that that isn’t a valid fear, or whatever, but if you explode on stage and all of your squishy bits end up in ballerina hair, you’re gonna be replaced too. You gotta take a mental health day, man, or one is going to take you out.” He puts his hands on Kravitz’s shoulder and forces them down, and Kravitz, though it’s quite clearly a strain, obediently relaxes them. “Call in and sleep most of tomorrow. Say you’re sick.”

“I just- Taako, I can’t!” His shoulders pop back up like a kid holding a beachball under water until it smacks him in the face. 

“Can you go back in there right now, genius?”

“I- I- Well-” Kravitz’s eyes kind of glaze over like he’s seen the creature that lives behind the Denny’s, and Taako shakes his head. “You’re a mess, dude. You’re going to take a break. In fact, let’s both take a break. Let’s...” Taako tappity-taps a drum solo on the steering wheel, sucking air in through his teeth. “Let’s go...on a road trip.”

“What???” Kravitz looks at him like he’s suggested they stab each other in the parking lot for fun and profit. “We couldn’t possibly--” 

“I mean, I find people can do all kinds of dumb bullshit with enough confidence.” A grin is slowly taking over Taako’s face. “Don’t you ever drive home and ache to turn the wrong way and just keep driving? Let’s fucking go.”

“Right now?” Kravitz’s voice keeps getting higher and higher. “You want us to leave town right NOW??” “Yeah, right now, why not! We have our duffels, got a change of clothes, I have a full tank of gas. Let’s get the hell out of dodge.” 

Kravitz sits in the passenger seat, more stunned than if he’d taken a cast-iron pan to the skull bones. 

“Could we...do that?”

“Yeah! I mean, I have money, you have money, we can get toothbrushes at whatever hotel we stop at. What’s stopping us?”

“My mom,” Kravitz answers honestly. Taako shrugs. 

“My sister will kill me and her husband will hide my limb body, but fuck ‘em, right? They don’t get it.”

“How could she! She quit! She left us!” Us, he says. Taako forgot that Kravitz and Lup used to be dance partners. He’s starting to buy into Kravitz’s storm of emotions, and the wind is whipping shit around in his brain.

“Yeah! Fuck her, honestly! Like, I love her, but fuck her for leaving! Fuck her dumb science career! Nothing’s been the same without her! This- Kravitz, this job is so fucking hard? And for what? Like, what are we getting out of it, besides all of our goddamn joints disintegrating?”  

“We could just...drive...We could, Taako, we could QUIT, we could just leave and not come back! We- who needs me? I’m- I’m getting out of that place, I can’t go back- We can just drive and drive and drive and not look back!!“ 

“We’re gonna. You and me, we’re getting out of here. To hell with the consequences, right?” Taako starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot before Kravitz can do any more objecting. Kravitz watches the company building get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, tongue tied, until they leave the city, and then a little smile begins to grow on his face, and then it starts to bloom, until he’s laughing, a little hysterical and a lot relieved. Taako joins in, and suddenly it’s loud and wild and dangerous and they’re united in this bizarre breakdown, tied together and shoving themselves off the cliff. 

“We’re doing it,” he whispers, face pressed to the window. “We’re really doing it! Where- Taako, where are we even going??” His eyes are blown and wide, the euphoria smacking him in the face so hard his nose might start to bleed.

“Away,” Taako says. “As far away as we can get. I’m not stopping  for the night until we have to get gas. You, me, we’re setting out into that wild blue yonder, and we’re, Kravitz, we’re gonna get so many ugly souvenir t-shirts. I swear this to you.”

“Thank you, Taako. Honestly. I...I don’t get why you’re doing this to me. I kind of thought you hated me? I think a lot of people hate me at the company. I don’t- I don’t know how to fix it, I- It’s so hard-” Kravitz’s eyes swim again, and Taako punches him in the side. 

“So what if I do? An opportunity like this doesn’t present itself very often. A genius like me has to take them as they come, even if they’re with uptight assholes who dance like angels.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or not.” 

“Be thankful, stupid. I’m taking you to, uh, to...Hm.” He scans the next road sign. “How about the Grand Canyon?” 

“The- Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious. We’re gonna go on a relaxing tour of American horseshit. We’re gonna see the ocean. And I’m serious about those ugly t-shirts.” He laughs again, sharp and piercing, and it almost hurts his throat. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care a bit. So what if they never come back? It’s fine. Things are fine! Everything is going to be fine. And if it’s not fine, oh well!

“Lead the way,” Kravitz mumbles, mystified and still smiling, somehow. “I’m leaving...” His voice is soft, but the words are heavy with feeling. “Take that!” 

Taako turns on the radio so they don’t have to keep talking, because if he has to listen to Kravitz cry anymore, he’s going to gain some sympathy for the motherfucker, and he simply cannot allow that. This is a platonic work trip. There will be no liking involved. Never in a million years.

#taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #taakitz #fan5fics #ballet-u #thank u des #these BOYS gonna go off the GRID #get out of town!!!!!

[foolscapper]

Spn prompt! I have a HUGE love of incoherent/delirious Sam and panicking/worried Dean, whether it's head injury, curse, blood loss, or dangerously high fever 👉👈

Your wish is my command! It ended up... longer than anticipated... but here you are! Unbeta’d, we die like men. This is weechesters and involves a kid being hurt, so if that’s something that’d bother anyone, feel free to skip over this!

(Posted to Archiveofourown as well.)

Sylvester Sharpe turned from the beat up Ford truck he'd parked on the corner of A Street and Cotton Circle after a voice coolly demanded his attention. The boy  that met his critical stare was about half his age — youthful, maybe somewhere between sixteen or eighteen: dirty-blonde hair; strange old necklace; a charcoal black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, darker with sweat around a neckline littered with holes that implied he really loved that goddam shirt. Sylvester furrowed his brow, put out his cigarette on the lip of a truck bed full of trash and beer bottles and stolen shit he'd been selling to good buddies who know a thing or two about loose lips getting busted, and squinted at the boy like he were pea-sized.

"What?" Sylvester said, the clipped sound one of impatience.

"I said," the freckled boy replied back, terse, "Do they call you 'Sly' around here?"

Sylvester snorted, loose-limbed and careless and ready to move on to the nearest liquor store to get a new pack of Marlboros. He turned toward his open truck door to move along. He said, "Yeah, I'm Sly."

The kid lunged, and they were on ground in a few seconds flat. 

An old man in an ivy cap walking his dog watched as the teenager started to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

**************** **************** **************** **************** 

You don't mess around when it comes to concussions. Concussions are traumatic brain injuries — sometimes it doesn't feel like that, because you think "oh, well, they just shook some screws loose; they just have some stars circling around their head, and they'll be fine in a few hours". But real life ain't cartoons. 

If there's one thing you could give their old man credit for, it was that he never undervalued a trip to the ER when it came to the safekeeping of his son's brains. Dean had a concussion before, himself. Just before he turned fifteen; got thrown into a wall by a ghost before returning back to their hotel room and vomiting his guts out in a toilet not even worth pissing in. Sam had been about eleven, casting the kindest and most worried shadow over the hunch of Dean's back, rubbing his shoulders and nervously parroting Dad about how he absolutely shouldn't go to sleep, no matter how much he slurred he wanted to.

Dad looked up the nearest ER and drove him down. 

The nurses had to stand there with their mouths in a thin, concerned line while Dean rambled on and on about how he'd caught a Chupacabra in a giant net once in Texas and ganked a vampire last week in Pasadena. And, of course, Dean also asked where Sam was — over and over and over and over — until Sam had to lean forward in his waiting room chair and wave at him, a constant reminder that he hasn't been left behind anywhere. Sam had tired lines around his mouth, then, and worry in his eyes that had been overcast with exhaustion. That's one of the few things Dean could remember about that night. Just thinking, 'Man, Sammy, why you look so tired?'

If he hadn't been so fucking concussed, the answer'd be obvious.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

Stuck in some half-dead town in Nevada in the summer of '95, Dean was more than a little restless; Dad had left them to go wipe a vampire nest a few small towns south, and apparently Dean hadn't been "big britches" enough to handle a hunt of that scope yet. Which was total horseshit, because he was sixteen; he could outdrink any old chump at the bar and he'd gotten a kill list so long that it rivaled a suburban mom's grocery list. 

They settled into an apartment with no furniture save for a two-seated couch and some mattresses — and exactly two months worth of rent covered with no plans to renew — but at least it also had a television with a few channels, too. Sweating from the heat, he traded the urge to hunt with the privilege of kicking up his feet and watching The People's Court. School had ended an hour or so before, but Sammy'd stayed behind for some extracurricular club he'd been practically vibrating to join, and Dean had no plans to shoot it down while Dad wasn't around to comment on it.

There was a small struggle at the front door to unlock it, and Dean listened with a quirked eyebrow.

"You forget how human hands work, Stuart Little?"

The door creaked open a fraction in response, and then stayed that way for a moment. Through the sliver of open air, Dean heard a small sob that made his stomach fall through the couch, and as he swung himself up onto his feet Sam walked through the door and nearly right into him — it was easy to see why, because his right eye was completely swollen shut, purpled and shiny. Dry blood clung under his nose and matted one side of his head, and he swayed on his feet when Dean's hands jolted out to grab his shoulders.  The kid's backpack was nowhere to be seen. Probably dropped and abandoned.

"Sam. Sammy." His hand reached to touch, and he found the bloody, clumped hair hid a lump the size of a golf ball, split and oozing. The kid shuddered with pain, and tears continued to leak down one side of his face. The fear mutates and splits off, leaving a new, fresh wave of emotion: fury. This isn't a monster. These aren't claw marks or some bruise caused by a furious ghost. Some punk-ass kids must have jumped him at the school and left him like this. And his brother walked all the way back here like that. He would even bet they aren't Sam's age. Sam wouldn't have let them do this without a hell of a fight.

He could barely stop the snarl of his lips, the cold calmness. "... Sam, who did this?"

"I don't..." Sam licked his lips, looking around like he wasn't sure where he was. Garbled words took time to form with a tied tongue. Dean could bet if he peeled the other eye open, the pupils would be mismatched in size. "I don't remember. I'm... I don't know. Dean."

The fury had to wait. He moved to walk Sam to the couch, planted him there and squeezed his brother's shoulder; another cold wave of outrage washed over him when Sam winced in pain, like something was hurt there, too. "It's okay. It's okay, little brother, just don't move. I'm going to clean you up, and we're gonna — get you to the urgent care. You hear me? It'll only take a minute."

He got the first aid from the bare kitchen cabinet, dug around for all the things he'd been familiar grabbing any time Dad had gotten his bell rang. He fumbled with the supplies with all the grace Sam had opening the front door. Uttered a sorry before he carefully pressed the gel icepack to Sam's eye. The other eye locked onto him, red and wet, glazed with delirium.

"Dean," Sam wept, and Dean had to focus hard to make out what he was saying: "Dean, I think I'm dead... I tried to find help, but nobody — nobody stopped... I think they can't see me. I think I'm a ghost."

Jesus. Yeah, the kid was concussed. Bad.

"No way. Not my little brother. Never gonna let that happen." His smile was strained as he grabbed Sam's wrist and raised the hand to the boy's own face. "Ghosts aren't big on crying, right? The salt would burn like a bitch."

"Dean..." 

"Yeah?"

"My ears're weird... Sounds weird," he admitted weakly, like he'd done something wrong. 

"It's okay, dude. You're concussed."

"... Oh." Sam sat for a moment. Looked around the small, unlived space. The People's Court was moving into a commercial. "Dean... Don' tell Dad. Don't tellem I messed up."

Dean pressed a palm to Sam's chest, his thumb gently rubbing the hill of his collarbone to soothe him. Usually about now they'd be wrestling over some stupid fight, or he'd be getting him into a headlock to test his reflexes, or Sam'd be throwing pencils at him for interrupting his train of thought at the kitchen table.

"You didn't mess anything up. I promise." It was a Herculean effort to keep his hands soft and caring, because all they wanted to do now was rip someone to pieces. He was gonna. As soon as Sam was good, he was gonna split his knuckles knocking someone's teeth out. He was gonna paint the dirt with it. Gonna blacken both eyes and bleed both nostrils and break a few things in someone's body.

... But only after making sure Sammy'd be alright.

Sam was missing a backpack and about forty bucks in money he'd earned from mowing lawns for the balding, dorky librarian living across the street. That same librarian ushered the boys into the back seat of her Sedan and made a beeline for the nearest ER. With Sam leaning against him, his knobby elbow jutting into his ribs, Dean answered a question nervously asked from the driver's seat.

"I don't know who did it. But I'm real good at hunting down whatever I got to."

**************** **************** **************** **************** 

There was a gratifying sound of Sylvester's skull hitting the side of his own truck after Dean threw him into it headlong. Storming forward, he doesn't hesitate to pick Sly back up by his flannel jacket to do it all over again. "Taking from the grown-ups not good enough for you?! You think you can fucking steal from kids, huh?! Think you can beat up some kid a third your size, huh?! You fuck—"

Wheezing, Sylvester tried to drag himself up into the driver's seat of his truck, a feeble effort to escape his punishments. A small crowd from a barbershop across the street formed, but kept their distance — older ladies mostly who knew better than to put their hands between a dog fight. Dean ignored them to grab Sylvester by the front of his collar and hoist him a foot up from the seat he'd slumped on. Their faces were inches apart, so that he could look into hazel eyes seeing red. "If I ever see you again, I'mma kill you. Do you understand? Do I make myself clear? I'll sleep like a baby after."

Sylvester didn't reply, but he did moan in pain, and Dean considered that an answer. He dropped him and stepped over his heaving chest with dust-stained boots to retrieve a backpack out of the truck bed. Then he reached into the man's jean pocket with swelling knuckles, digging more than forty dollars out of the billfold he finds there and shoving the wad into his own pocket. Then he chucked the rest of the wallet across the unleased dirt field. 

"Go fuck yourself," Dean said finally, and left just as he'd come.

**************** **************** **************** **************** 

Dean and Sam could barely fit on the apartment's couch together, legs crammed together under a quilted blanket while the television had cast an ever-changing glow over them. Sam's face was still a mess of Dean's least favorite colors, but now he could see both of his eyes, and that helped loosen the knot in his stomach. John had been called from the ER, told the story from front to back, and he filled the teenager with grim vindication when he complimented Dean's recent successful hunt. 

The verdict: a 24-hour observation in the hospital, during which John Winchester strode in to keep vigilant watch over Dean as he kept vigilant watch over Sam; he hadn't stopped watching him since they'd gotten home after, either. Dean could hear his father's snores through the door into the one bedroom. Who knows when the last time Dad slept had been; he'd come straight back from the end of the destroyed vamp nest, no pitstops. 

"... Dean?" Sam asked after him, wearily. If he had a nickel for every time the boy said it today, he'd be a millionaire. But there was an awareness in Sam's eyes this time that had been frighteningly missing earlier, as he stared at him from across the short couch. In the ER, it had taken a lot of coaxing and promising that Sam wasn't as dead as he'd thought he was, and now Dean was very confident he finally believed it a day late and a dollar short.

"Yeah?" 

"Your hands."

He glanced down at the bruised, scraped up knuckles, and just shook his head at the sight of Sam's apprehension; he hadn't told Sam exactly what happened, but his brother was smart. Smarter than most people who came and went in their lives. Smarter than Dean had ever felt he could be. He sighed as he flexed his hands. "Don't worry. I'm not going to jail for murder or anything. Just... rest, okay?"

Sam's chin sunk into the blanket. Not appeased, but relenting. 

The battered kid mumbled, "You're the one who looks tired," then he smiled in that way that made Dean regret his bleeding heart. Dean's mouth opened for a moment, then closed. He played it off as best he could, but the rough emotion in the way he glanced aside and rubbed a hand down his mouth  was hardly subliminal. "Yeah, well. Sometimes worrying too much is exhausting, dude."

Sam bit his lip. "I'll try not to worry you as much, then."

Dean reached out, patted the bony knee near his.

"... I might have to hold you to that."

But really? He would never.

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #preseries #spn prompts #spn fanfic #hurt!sam #hurt/comfort #warning for injured child!!!

[comfy-whumpee]

NaNo 2

Kala was pacing up and down the kitchen in front of the range. She’d always been a pacing kind of person. Rain could remember her revising with them in college, up and down the living room while she tried to recite dates for their history course.

Now, she was pacing over the tiled floor because she was triggered, and trying to hold off a flashback. It was something she did often, when the spectres came back and she went quiet and tense and angry. She paced, working out the energy, forcing her body to produce endorphins for exercise and grounding herself with the hard press of the floor against her feet. Five paces from the coffee machine to the back door. Five paces from the back door to the coffee machine. Her fists were tight and swinging in the air with each stride.

Rain didn’t watch. It’d be the same as watching a pendulum. There was no point. They sat at the table, cardigan pulled around their shoulders, with their cup of tea between their hands. Chai was good for the mood today. Spicy, warm, and something homely too.

Kala had locked him in the attic, but didn’t know what to do about it.

Rain knew.

“It’s fucking illegal, but he deserves it, right?” she said, stopping suddenly and looking at them. “He deserves it and more. After all the shit he did to you.”

“And to you,” Rain agreed. “I think we can get away with it for a little while.”

She nodded. She resumed pacing. Rain sipped their tea, and thought about what they would write in their journal about today. Dear diary, today the man who tortured us begged us for help...

Kala stopped again. “But what if it’s real? He’s really lost his memories?”

Rain shook his head. “We can’t believe that right now. It’s too convenient.”

“Right,” she agreed, and started pacing again. “And even if he did, he’d still fucking deserve it. He doesn’t get to escape the consequences like that.”

Rain made a neutral noise. Dear diary, today we discussed whether it was ethical to torture someone who had tortured us.

It had started to drizzle, they noticed, looking out of the bay window above the sink. The sky had dimmed from pale blue to a light, fuzzy grey. Kala’s workout things were still in the garden on the grass. She definitely had better thing to worry about, though.

“But,” Kala said, frozen mid-stride.

Rain glanced over.

She shook her head, glared at the door, and paced on.

They waited, watching the rain patter against the window, droplets sliding down over it and meeting together where gravity willed it. The gentle undulation of white and grey moved sluggishly over the sky, drifting away from the sea. They could go to the beach later, while everyone else would be staying away.

“We have to figure out if it’s real, right?” Kala said, and when Rain glanced back they saw that she’d come to a stop in front of the kitchen table where they sat. “We have to... We have to see if it’s real. How the fuck do we do that?”

Rain put their mug down, drawing their hands back into the sleeves of their cardigan. “I can think of a couple of ways.”

-

Dear diary, today Kala and I tied up Lauritz Nielson and locked him in the attic.

He cut a pathetic figure. He always had, really, even while he’d held their lives in his grubby hand. Rain was scared of him, of course, but the initial panic had passed. They wouldn’t be blindsided now. They knew what to expect.

He was lying on his side, staring in apparent misery at the far wall, when the hatch opened. His head lifted, and he sat up, hope brightening his expression. It dimmed a little when Kala appeared behind them, but he moved his eyes to Rain and stayed there, leaning forwards slightly.

It was... unnerving. Rain rubbed their arm, feeling the goose bumps across it prickle in protest at the image. It was okay if they felt worried and weak, though. That was why Kala was with them, Kala was always with them. She would keep them safe. She would be fire enough to keep them both warm, as she always had been.

“Criminals don’t turn up on their victims’ doorstep pleading amnesia and begging for help,” Rain said, opening the conversation as a lawyer might, with the outline of their case. “That’s a fact. That doesn’t happen. There’s no reason for you to be here unless there’s a scheme involved somehow, and if there is, you’re a part of it.”

Lauritz watched them, appearing to listen intently. There was no immediate protest of his innocence. He just listened.

“That means, no matter how much you pretend amnesia, we can’t trust you. We won’t. The consequences are too great.”

He nodded, though he didn’t seem like he understood. More like he was just trying to show willingness to comply.

Bullshit, Rain thought. Absolute horseshit. Catshit. Dogshit. Whatever. It couldn’t be true, this guy was just – a liar, a damned fucking liar.

“You’re staying up here. We’re going to figure out what’s going on. Whoever’s idea it was to send you in here, they miscalculated.”

Kala was still wearing her black T-shirt and leggings from her workout. When she moved forwards, muscles clearly visible, Lauritz shrank back.

“N-Nobody sent me,” he protested finally, quietly. “I-I don’t think they did.”

Kala dropped to a crouch over him, and pushed him back by the shoulders until he was against the floor, back still lifted over his hands but otherwise flat. He didn’t resist the push. He was still trying to look at Rain.

“I don’t remember, I don’t know what I-I did to you.”

Rain’s eyes closed briefly. If he claimed not to know, he would make them retell it. He would force them to relive those memories for no reason other than to sate whatever sadistic urge was driving this performance.

Did he want them to hurt him? Surely not. He’d been a sadist, right. He didn’t want it turned back on him.

Kala’s hands and knees pinned him down, but he wasn’t resisting. He looked across the room at Rain, doggedly at Rain, as though they were in charge “D-Don’t hurt me,” he said.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Rain said.

“I am,” Kala interjected, and Rain smiled faintly at her theatrics. She looked down at him, her long black braid falling off her shoulder. “You don’t act like you used to, but people can change in three years, can’t they? You got to being a coward. I got fit. Heavy. I can fight now, you piece of shit.”

Lauritz stared up at her, paling. His teeth pressed into his lip. Rain watched, wondering at the catharsis this could create for them. Lauritz defeated.

“You’d fucking deserve it if Rain decided to gut you,” Kala said. “But I’m the muscle.”

Lauritz only blinked. His jaw was set, teeth clenched, as if something in him couldn’t hide the anger at her insolence, even as she overpowered him.

“Right now, though, we need to work out what your game is. So tell me.”

Lauritz didn’t sit up or try to shift positions, seemingly trapped by her heavy, stormy stare. “I-I don’t kno-ow,” he said, almost a whisper.

“You know,” Kala snapped back, her hand clipping his ribs. He winced, his breathing stuttering, and Rain kept silent, watching. “What’s the game?” she repeated, voice sharper, louder. It cut cold against Rain’s skin, and seemed to hurt Lauritz even more, as he whimpered.

When he shook his head, she hit him again, the dull thud of her fist heralding another noise of terrified pain. Was it possible for someone to act like this? What would the purpose even be?

Rain sat down, crossing their legs in the dust. Kala grabbed Lauritz’s hair and yanked his head back until his breathing squeezed down into short gasps. Still, he didn’t twitch to defend himself, no kicking, nor struggling. He just stared up at her as she drove fists against his sides, the interrogation giving way to a beating.

He had to be suppressing those instincts deliberately, Rain thought, watching closely as Kala’s fist smacked into his nose, and something crunched.

Her hand snapped back, and she hesitated as sudden tears filled Lauritz’s eyes and ran over, his cheeks reddening with an abrupt flush of colour. Seconds later, he was crying, sniffling and wincing, chest hitching erratically.

Rain reached forwards and put their hand around Kala’s elbow, stopping her from lashing out again. Her breathing was fast enough that she could have run a marathon, but she turned her face away from them, not wanting sympathy. “You deserved that,” she muttered.

Lauritz swallowed, shoulders hunching. Watery grey eyes moved to find Rain.

“You did,” they agreed.

The man’s gaze drifted down. He almost looked ashamed.

Maybe it wasn’t to manipulate them. Maybe he was trying to make penance, somehow, with a ridiculous lie as his shield to earn forgiveness from them. Maybe he wanted them to hurt him, so he could soothe his conscience.

Despite all the time they’d spent with him, at his mercy, they’d never figured him the kind of person to do this.

“Tell us why you’re here,” Kala said stonily, after a few moments to catch her breath. Her tone was as level as always. “The truth.”

Lauritz blinked. When he spoke, his voice was stuffy and nasal. “I w-woke up in a, a car park. It was n-near here. I remembered your address, thought it was – home. D-Didn’t know where else to go.”

Rain looked over him again, at the black sleeveless shirt, open flannel, and black skinny jeans with dirt encrusted around the knees and cuffs. He wasn’t wearing shoes, they realised suddenly. Just thick black socks.

There was nothing in his pockets, that much was clear. It would be trivial to see the shapes of whatever he was carrying. He had nothing on him. No weapon, no wire.

And yet he’d clearly shaved fairly recently. It didn’t make sense for him to be this dishevelled, but for his chin to only be dusted with stubble.

Something was off about this, they had to figure out what, and they wouldn’t take a single risk for the name of kindness. Even without his memories, if that could really be true, there was no proof he wasn’t the same bastard he’d always been. There was no guarantee those memories wouldn’t return. There were certain words in his voice that Rain never wanted to hear again.

“You think we’re fucking stupid?” Kala said, apparently having come to a different conclusion. “We could fucking kill you, you know that? And you’d deserve it!”

Again, as Rain watched, Lauritz merely looked back at her. He didn’t seem to have any objection to her claim.

Perhaps this was a search for atonement, then. Fine. Let him search. They had none to offer him.

Rain got to their feet, their bed socks gripping more easily on this floor than downstairs. They looked down at Lauritz, and Kala as her head turns.

“I’m going downstairs,” they announced, with a little shrug.

Kala nodded. She clearly had no intention of leaving Lauritz be.

Not their problem. Rain climbed back down the ladder, and as the sounds of the beating started up again, trailed to their room to write.

#nanowrimo extract #my fic #beating #interrogation #amnesia whump #past trauma #angry whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #whumping a whumper #revenge whump #death mention #rain #kala #lauritz

[duhragonball]

For the Ask Game: Son Goku

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: Goku is the main character in Dragon Ball Z, an anime that I have enjoyed tremendously for over 20 years.  He kicks aliens really fast and hard, and he eats wolves and bugs and clouds, and he’s very cool and good.   

That may sound kind of basic, maybe even borderline sarcastic, but I’m not sure how else to put it.    I’ve gotten so used to liking Goku that it’s hard to articulate why.   

Like, okay, you know that one episode during the Cell Games, where he’s gonna pick apples from his favorite apple tree?   And he does the special karate punch that makes the apples all fall out of the branches without really hurting the tree?    In the dub, he says to the tree “Ready for one more round, old timer?”  Or something like that, and then after he hits it, he’s like “See?  That didn’t hurt a bit.”  I’m not getting the lines right, but you get the idea.    That’s some choice Goku right there.    He’s friends with that tree!   

Why I don’t: hE gAvE mOrO a SeNzU bEaN-- ha ha just kidding, but can you imagine not liking Goku?   Because of something he did in some horseshit fancomic that doesn’t even count?

Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of guff from people about Goku showing mercy to his enemies.   This is humorous to me, because I’d bet you dollars to donuts that they’re fans of Vegeta and/or Piccolo, and that only happened because Goku decided to have mercy on their stank asses.    “Well I like Vegeta because he kills people.”  He only gets to do that because Goku allowed him to live.    Best Green Dad doesn’t happen without Goku, period, end of sentence, new paragraph.   

I’m not a lore expert like that guy on Twitter who only watched DBZ Abridged, but here’s some cool trivia for you: Cell could have self-destructed and destroyed the Earth at any time.    It literally does not matter that Goku gave Cell a senzu bean before Gohan fought him, because Cell would have done the same thing no matter who beat him or how.     If Gohan had wiped him out quickly, that nucleus would have survived and regenerated, and he would come back even stronger.   The senzu bean just delayed the inevitable outcome, and not even by that much, because Cell wasn’t that worn out in the first place.   The whole thing with the senzu bean was Goku playing headgames with Cell and no one seems to understand that but me.   

But what about Moro, you ask?   Hey, come here.  

Closer.    No, closer.   

Listen to me.   I love you, okay?    But the Dragon Ball Super manga isn’t canon.   Hating Goku over something he did in Super is like hating Superman for something he did in a Mad Magazine bit.      

“Blargle blargle he doesn’t kiss his wife bad father, tournament of power--” I super mega don’t care about any of these ice cold takes.      Every day I go on YouTube and it recommends me the dirt worst Star Wars commentary videos.   “Maybe the SITH were actually the GOOD GUYS and the JEDI were the BAD GUYS!  Huh?  Did I just BLOW your MIND?   Be sure to like and subscribe!”  Every dope with a keyboard seems to think they can flip the script and pretend they’re some kind of genius.    “Thanos was right!”  “Magneto was right!” “Dr. Doom was right!” “Antifa are the real fascists when you stop and think about it!”  “Masks and vaccines are bullshit, COVID-19 is a hoax, but if it were real, maybe it’s the good guy in this situation!”

I didn’t mean to go off on a rant here, but the whole point of Goku is that he’s a pretty cool guy, and the hero of his particular adventure, and you see all these people trying to outsmart that somehow, like it’s not the premise of the character.   It’s like all those fan theories about how every show is really one character having a coma dream in the hospital.    It’s fake-deep, like when Will Smith’s kid goes on the internet and says something like “Water isn’t wet when you stop and think about it.”  

I’m not saying everyone has to like Goku, but I don’t get the hate-boner people have for him.    I don’t like cole slaw, it’s soggy and insipid and I don’t understand it, but I don’t go around trying to convince people it’s not made out of cabbage.  

Anyway, Goku’s awesome. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): It’s hard to choose, but DBZ #248 always fucks me up.   I looked it up in my liveblog archive to get the episode number right, and the first line of that post: This one always fucks me up.

Moving on.

Favorite season/movie: In Dragon Ball terms, I guess this refers to the sagas, so I’ll go with Cell Games.    Goku goes into the battle with this flawed, touch-and-go plan, and it works.    He defeats perfection with imperfection, and it’s glorious.  

Favorite line: “What I represent can never be destroyed,” is one of the most metal lines ever uttered, anywhere.   It’s a threat and a moral lesson all in one.   

Favorite outfit: Two answers for this one.  

Shu’s outfit in the Fortuneteller Baba Saga was awesome.    I used to wear yellow T-shirts to work, so when I put on my blue labcoat I would see myself in the restroom mirror and think: yeaaaaahhhhhh.

I’m also big into Goku’s look during the Cell Games, classic orange outfit, blue shirt, with the Super Saiyan form ready to go.    That may sound obvious, since this is kind of Goku’s default look, but it takes a while to get all of this together.  For me, it was a big deal to see Goku in action as a Super Saiyan in his standard fighting gear, because the whole time he was SSJ on Namek his shirt was ruined.   Against Gero and 19 he was sick, but starting with the Cell Games, we get him fresh as a daisy, and it’s worth the wait.   Harder to stealth cosplay, though.

OTP: Gochi.   Come on.    I don’t even care that much about ships, but they’re adorable on the show, and the internet backlash against Gochi only intensifies my defiance.   

Brotp: I wrote a fanfic with Goku and Yamcha just joyriding in the desert, and that seemed pretty awesome, so maybe we need more of that.   

I dunno, maybe I’m giving this to Bulma.   They don’t get a ton of screen time together after a certain point in the show, but the bond between them is this really sublime thing.    In the same fanfic, I wrote Bulma and Goku interacting, and that was just a pleasure to write.

Head Canon: I think Goku being an alien orphan matters more to him than he lets on.   Early on, he knew he had parents but he didn’t know why they left him in the woods.   Pretty much every interaction he has with the outside world is about him being different.   Then he finds out he’s a Saiyan and all the Saiyans hate him for being weak and sentimental and so on.   He can kick all their asses, but that doesn’t make him any less of an outcast.   

I think becoming a Super Saiyan is a bigger deal to him than he lets on.   That moment kind of serves as this unspoken proof that there’s more to being a “true” Saiyan than Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz ever knew.   That maybe, if his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granny could see him, she might approve.

Unpopular opinion:

Yukio Ebisawa is underrated. 

A wish: I always wanted to see Goku style on Broly ‘93.   It seemed unfair to me that they kept bringing Broly back, and even teased a rematch with Goku in Movie 11, only to not deliver on it.    I wanted Goku to turn Super Saiyan 2 and Broly’d be all “oh noes!” and Goku would look at him and be all “Yeah.   What now, bitch?    That green shit won’t cut it anymore.”

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I think my darkest fear about the Dragon Ball franchise is that it’ll get bastardized like Superman, where some giant multimedia corporation owns it, has no idea how to tell new stories with it, and refuses to let it lapse into the public domain.   I have no idea how public domain works in Japan, but “Disney Toei’s Dragon Ball KH” doesn’t sit well with me.    Hopefully I’ll be dead by the time that happens.  

Like, Rise of Skywalker wasn’t that bad.   But it did lead me to worry that they really have no idea how to make Star Wars work.    They got it right enough, but the part where Rose is going to stay and guard the base or whatever, it just made me realize they’re only guessing, and they just happen to guess right often enough to succeed.   And it’s not like you can jump over to some other studio and see how they handle a Star Wars movie.

5 words to best describe them: Ain’t nothin’ to fuck with.

My nickname for them: Geeko.    Ha ha, just kidding.  

#dragon ball #ask duhragonball #goku #son goku #jcogginsa

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Happenstance 5/10

Rated T        1.7K          ao3          ffnet          ch1          ch2          ch3          ch4

Summary/ A/N: Here is the next chapter, more shenanigans by my favorite villain to villify, some awkwardness, and a confession. Thank you @hookedonapirate for lending your services and helping me fine tune this story. 

Chapter 5

After Emma’s birthday she and Killian were inseparable; there were even more nights that they spent together talking about everything from current school events, to what they were going to do when they left, to the silliest debates over the best flavor of ice cream. They were also around David and Mary Margaret a fair amount of the time. They celebrated David’s birthday, much like Emma’s, at the Nolan household. Thanksgiving had them all at David’s again, where Ruth put together a feast fit for royalty. Christmas was a welcome break from school, although Emma and Killian found themselves on their own as their friends had traveled to check out Mary Margaret’s college, and the city that they would call home.  

“It’s Christmas Eve, Swan, what shall we do?”

“It’s Christmas Eve morning,” she grumbled, “what time is it?”

“The day is wasting away! Come on, let’s get out of here, go find some fun.”

“Ugh, you are way too chipper in the morning,” she complained, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“Killian?” They both heard Ingrid calling from down the hall.

Jumping out of the bed, Killian scrambled to the door and cracked it open. Despite the innocent nature, Killian did not want to have to explain being in Emma’s bed. He sat down at Emma’s desk then called out, “In here, Ingrid.”

Ingrid appeared in the doorway, “Can you come out to the kitchen, Killian? There are two officers here to see you.”

He looked at Emma, confusion on his face. She returned his look, equally confused as to what was going on. Killian got up from the chair and trudged down the hall, nervous as hell, even though he couldn’t think of a thing he’d done to incite a visit from the local PD.

The two officers were standing by the dining table, Ingrid brought them each a cup of coffee and invited them to sit down. Felix was already seated in one of the chairs. Killian glanced at Neal’s lemming with barely concealed distaste as he sat down at the opposite end.  

“Are you Killian Jones?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Officer Humbert and this is Officer Booth. We’ve received a complaint this morning, you’re being accused of stealing the personal property of one of your housemates.”

Killian locked eyes with Felix, staring the other boy down, “Neal put you up to this?”

“Who’s Neal?” Booth questioned.

Killian continued to eye Felix, wondering what angle they were playing. “I haven’t stolen anything officer, from anyone.”

“Felix, what is it you think Killian took?” Ingrid asked gently.

“I didn’t take anything!”

“Okay,” she said, putting her hand over Killian’s balled up fist that was tensed upon the tabletop.  

“He took my watch,” Felix accused.

“What bloody watch?” Killian exclaimed.

“Maybe you misplaced it?” Ingrid suggested.

“No, I saw him take it last night, he thought I was asleep. Check his room, I bet it’s in there.”

“You mind showing us your room?” Officer Humbert asked Killian.

Knowing that he had nothing to do with Felix’s missing watch, he confidently showed the officers to his room, and let them look for themselves. Killian, Ingrid, and Felix stood at the doorway.

“Is this yours?” Humbert asked as he pulled a watch out from under his pillow.

Killian’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the planted watch. “No it’s not, but I also don’t sleep with a watch under my pillow.”

“That’s my watch, I knew it,” Felix piped up.

Killian could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. Even though Felix was the accuser, Neal wasn’t going to get away with this. Killian could see the setup for what it was, an attempt to make him look bad in Emma’s eyes, and anyone else who’d believe this sack of horseshit scheme. He turned to Felix, “You might want to end this now, they aren’t going to find my prints anywhere on that watch and you know it.”

Felix’s eyes went wide for just a moment before he regained his composure. “I want to press charges,” he sneered.

“No, Felix,” Ingrid pleaded with the boy, “we can work this out here.”

Felix didn’t answer, except to avert his eyes like the coward he was.

“Sorry, son,” Officer Booth said, approaching Killian. “We won’t cuff you as long as you come quietly, we’ll need to get your statement down at the station.”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” Ingrid questioned. “He’s never been in trouble.”

“Sorry, ma’am, this is standard procedure, the value of the watch is reported at over five hundred dollars, making it a felony offense.”

The officer began to recite Killian’s Miranda rights when Emma appeared in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” she asked Ingrid frantically when she saw the officer leading Killian out by the arm.  

“Shhh, it’s okay Emma, let me take care of this,” Ingrid said.

“No! Felix, what the fuck is going on?” Emma demanded, knowing something was off.

“Emma!” Ingrid scolded, “there’s no need for that language. Felix says Killian stole his watch last night.”

“No he didn’t,” Emma said, voice strong with conviction.

“He did too, I saw him take it myself,” Felix said.

“Oh, you saw him yourself?” Emma asked suspiciously. “Is Neal paying you to lie for him? What do you get out of this?”

“Who is this Neal person you guys keep referring to?” Booth asked.

“He’s my dumbass ex-boyfriend, and I know he is using Felix to set Killian up,” Emma told the officer.

“He ain’t using me, I saw him take it with my own eyes,” Felix insisted.

“No, you didn’t!” Emma yelled, stalking toward Felix. “There is no way you saw Killian take your watch last night,” she accused, stabbing her finger into his chest. “You’re a liar!” Emma pushed the boy, the anger she felt at Neal’s puppeteering boiling over.

“How do you know?” Something in Emma’s self assured tone made the officer probe further.

“Because Killian and I were together all evening and he slept in my room last night,” Emma stated matter of factly, arms folding over her chest.

Ingrid’s mouth fell open, and Killian’s neck audibly popped when his head snapped up so hard to look at Emma.

The officer withdrew his hand from Killian’s arm, then turned to Felix. “What do you have to say, son?”

“No- Nothing, he stole the- I mean…” Felix stuttered all over the place, before glaring at Emma. “Neal’s right, you’re a fucking slut.” He smiled viciously, enjoying the way her veneer cracked under his hateful words.

Killian charged toward Felix, but Emma stepped in his path before he could do any harm. “He’s not worth it, Jones,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. “If you go off and get yourself arrested for assault, my confession will be for nothing.”

Killian turned to the officers, “Am I free to go?”

Humbert nodded, then looked at Ingrid. “If there’s nothing further, we’ll get out of your hair. But maybe have a talk with the boy who cried wolf, about making false accusations.”

Killian and Emma snickered lightly when Felix scoffed loudly at the officer’s joke. They were headed back to Emma’s room when they heard Ingrid, “Not so fast you two, I want to talk to you guys when I’m through with Felix, go wait for me at the dining table.”

They nodded at her, then headed out to the kitchen to await their lecture. Emma worried what Ingrid would do. Killian sat staring at her, he couldn’t believe she’d get herself in trouble to help him.  

Emma knew she didn’t have any reason to fear the woman, she just always had that underlying feeling that she’d be let go. Feeling Killian staring at her, she turned to him curiously. “What?”

“Nothing, I mean, it’s just…” Killian stuttered and rubbed nervously at his neck as he tried to explain to Emma what he was feeling, without embarrassing himself.  “No one’s ever stood up for me like that since…”

“Since what?” she asked as he trailed off. When he didn’t respond she grabbed his hand from across the table. “Tell me,” she whispered.

“Since Liam passed,” he mumbled.  

Emma started to ask who Liam was when Ingrid came back into the kitchen. She sat down and looked between the two, noting their hands clasped across the table. Emma could swear she saw Ingrid’s mouth turn up in a half smile.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry, I know-”

“Emma, it’s okay,” Ingrid spoke quietly. She placed her hand over their joined ones, “I’m glad you two have each other. You two know the rules though.”

They both nodded their heads. “What are you going to do?” Emma asked. She could feel the anxiety pulling at her insides.

“Hmmm, that is the question,” Ingrid answered cryptically.

“Please don’t separate us!” Emma blurted out.

“Separate you?!” Ingrid laughed loudly. “Emma Swan, I’m not sending either of you away. Why would I break up a bond as strong as yours. I was an orphan too, I was lucky enough to be adopted by the Arendelles, a good family, but I know what it’s like to be lost as well. Just, be careful, okay.” She gave both of them a stern look. “I can’t stop what you’re going to do, you’re almost adults. But if you need contraceptives, or to talk, you can come to me.”

Emma’s jaw dropped, while Killian turned an inhuman shade of maroon.

“It’s not like that, I mean, we’re just friends, he’s my best friend,” Emma spit out in rapid fire succession. She pulled her hand back from Killian’s, and covered her burning face.

“Ingrid, I promise you, we would never do anything to get you in trouble,” Killian vowed.

Ingrid was looking between the two of them with confusion. “You mean you two aren’t…” she trailed off, “you could have fooled me.” She had a confused and disbelieving tone about her. She just laughed a little laugh before getting up, “Merry Christmas you two. Will you be here for dinner?”

“We are going to go find something to do today, but we will be back for dinner,” Emma mumbled through her hands.  

“Good,” Ingrid answered.

@laschatzi @hollyethecurious@winterbaby89 @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @jennjenn615@snowbellewells @xhookswenchx@ultraluckycatnd @emeraldwitches @nikkiemms @galadriel26 @roseyflush   @a-faekindagirl@ @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @effulgentcolors @onceuponaprincessworld @captainswan-shipper88 @andiirivera @teamhook@tiganasummertree @deathbycaptainswan @kday426 @sherlockianwhovian@mayquita @captswanis4vr@effulgentcolors@welllpthisishappening@princesseslikepirates @officerrogers @therooksshiningknight @thisisforcs @freechoicedreamer 

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au #cs hurt comfort #captain swan

[ask-rogertaylor]

((So deaky/Bri/jo/rog has taken over my life and I wrote this shitty ficlet starring my love @ask-johanna-deacon . Enjoy it if you can ashdjowowak !! But uhh..there will probably be more sappy ficlets like this hekowpajdowpwa)

Roger didn’t come to Jamie’s weekly garden brunch.

It did cause a few heads to turn, but everybody figured he either slept in from being his nocturnal self, and Rogerina had assumed he has a hangover and couldn’t get up, as he would only groan in response to her, but that he would be okay. But Johanna, ever gentle, and particularly towards the stubborn drummer, was worried. He wouldn’t miss brunch if he couldn’t help it—and he’d dragged his hungover ass to the brunches before, there was no way he couldn’t do it again. Right after people had started to disperse, she found herself walking towards Roger’s place.

“Roggie! It’s Jo,” She called out, not too loudly, but loud enough he would hear her should he be face planted into his pillow.

She received no response. Sighing, she toppled over a marble figure of a Rolls Royce and collected the spare key from underneath it. She shoved the key into the keyhole and turned the door open.

She scanned the area, until her eyes fell upon a lump of blankets and messy blonde hair on the couch. She tutted with amusement, smiling softly as she approached him.

“Hey, you missed brunch,” She called out softly, nudging him awake.

Roger blinked, dazed, squinting at her, trying to recognise who she was, with his poor eyesight, but as the clarity hit his eyes he suddenly erupted into a staccato burst of chesty sounding coughs, which he hastily covered with the crook of his arm.

“Jo,” He managed to choke out between coughs, “Hi.”

“You’re sick!” She exclaimed.

“I don’t..” Roger’s nose scrunched up, turning his head away from her and pitched forward into his arm with a delicate, high pitched sneeze. It was completely unlike his loud, boisterous self. “..get sick.”

“Bless you. Whatever helps you sleep at night. You get sick faster than the rest of us, you realise that, right?” She teased lightly.

“Horseshit. When do I ever get sick?” Roger asked croakily, his voice huskier than it usually was and several semitones lower.

“Uh, in this past year? 4 times,” She rolled her eyes.

She felt a little more concerned as he delayed to process what she had just said, as seen by the glazed look on his tired, drooping eyes. Frowning, she leaned forward and pressed a hand on his forehead.

“Rog, you’re so hot,” She fretted.

“Thanks, dear, right back at you,” Roger smirked drowsily, beginning to sink back into the couch.

Johanna blushed, “Roger! You..you know what I meant by that!”

He managed a mischievous smile at her, “I know, sorry love, only teasing.” His nose began to twitch again, much like a bunny’s, taking a series of breathy inhales before hastily bringing his t-shirt up to his face to cover another dainty sounding sneeze.

“Bless you. You know..I wasn’t expecting that from you. You try to present yourself as a hard rock and roller but you sneeze like a kitten,” She giggled.

Roger scoffed and shifted, “I do not.”

“When did you start feeling sick?”

Roger cleared his throat and stifled two coughs against his arm, “I got rained on two mornings ago, I didn’t check the weather forecasts and I went for a walk, and alas. Here we are. I started getting a little ill yesterday.”

Johanna raised her eyebrows, “You guys played a gig yesterday. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

He shrugged, his cheeks flushed with fever and voice laced with congestion, “Eh. Didn’t want to bother anyone. Freddie was already pretty high maintenance about it, nobody needed another problem.”

“You’re not a problem..” She pressed.

“I know—it just isn’t a big deal. It’s a cold, Jo, I’ll be okay,” His voice caught in the end as he began to cough into his arm.

“Here, I’ll make you my soup,” Johanna offered, smiling sweetly. The offer made Roger smile from ear to ear, suddenly a lot brighter than he had been a second ago.

About 15 minutes later, with nothing but humming and the occasional cough from Roger, she returned to the sick blonde, setting the soup down onto his table.

“Jo, dear, I would say it smells great but I can’t breathe out of my fucking nose,” Roger joked lightheartedly, his voice stuffed up and congested.

“Yes, I can hear it from your voice, dummy,” She chuckled softly, watching as he shakily grabbed for the bowl and tried to feed himself. He began to cough violently, his entire body convulsing as he did—to which she quickly took the bowl from him as he turned his back to her, hunching over into his arm to try and conceal his germs from her.

Roger groaned after, sniffling weakly, “Jesus. How pathetic am I? Not even able to feed myself.”

“Hey. It’s alright, I’m here, I can help,” Johanna offered gently, taking the bowl in her own hands and dipped the spoon into the liquid.

Roger raised an eyebrow, “Are you kidding?”

“Would you like 1st degree burns or what?”

Roger shut up.

She fed him slowly, until she realised this sparkly, soft look on his eyes she didn’t quite understand. His eyes were glazed and droopy, almost whimsical.

“..Rog..?”

“Sorry, Jo. It’s just that you’re so beautiful.”

Johanna blushed, clearing her throat, looking away for a moment as she tried to collect herself, heart racing. She looked back at him, and promptly placed her hand on his forehead.

“It’s your fever talking,” She choked out, mostly speaking for herself.

“You’re always here for me. You’re so kind and gentle and you always make feel needed. You do the work that nobody wants to do, for me. And you will never understand how grateful I am,” Roger slurred feverishly, a lazy, but soft smile playing on his lips.

“O-okay, Rog, maybe you should get some sleep,” Johanna cut in quickly, feeling her heart racing in both fear, but also excitement. She quickly set the soup away and rushed away from the couch, making herself busy by finding a towel to dampen, unable to face this situation right now.

Once she had found it, she had calmed down considerably. She came back to him slowly, with the drummer already lying down on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes closed. She sighed fondly at the sight of him, placing the towel over his forehead.

“..Please..stay with me..?” Roger whimpered quietly, his face scrunching up in discomfort.

She could never say no to him.

She lifted his head, with ease—Roger was surprisingly light, and sat down on the couch, gently placing his head on her lap, her fingers immediately lacing themselves into his hair.

Roger made a sound of delight, similar to a purr, curling up against her.

“..God I wish I could..” Roger started quietly, but trailed off. She wasn’t sure if it was his sickness or if he had stopped himself. Perhaps a mixture of both.

“..yes..?” She encouraged.

Roger shook his head, “Thank you. Thank you for being here with me. This is so selfish, but I really hope the day where you realise I’m not worth all of this trouble never comes.”

“There will be no such day, Rog, c’mon..I think..I think we’re pretty good, actually, I could keep going like this for a long time,” She reassured, continuing to run her hands through his hair.

He smiled sadly at her, his eyes twinkling with this sadness that she wasn’t sure what to think of, “..I wish I could tell you..”

His eyes drooped closed just shortly after, falling into a slumber. She blinked, completely shaken and unsure of what to do. But she always felt safe when she was with him, and she might as well enjoy this moment.

They would figure it all out another day.

#jddjosaoa #queue

[gideonbdbrw-blog]

#SassyPants with @Ezekiel_BDBRW

Ezekiel:

[I was free. It was like a miracle. I breathed in the air deeply and spread my arms wide, spinning a circle. First order of business, get a shower and out of this damn stinky tux. Definitely not getting any return value on this one. Not that I would anyway, I stole the thing after all. Second order of business, explain all this mess to mahmen. The look she gave me when they carted me away was going to haunt me for a very long time. I needed that gone. I needed her to believe in me again. Somehow I would make it right. The flash drive was now no longer my problem. It was now in the hands of ‘HelloKitty’. I laughed again at that user name. Hopefully that guy got something out of it. Had only caused me trouble. Oddly, I would still probably do it again. It was just how I was wired.

I got to my shitty basement apartment only to see a big fat eviction notice on the door. Not like I was going to stay here anyway, this place was compromised now. It did set off big old warning bells though. Mom would never have left that hanging where everyone could see the shame of it.] Mom!! [I called out as I pushed the door open. There was a pile of mail in the way and I had to push a little harder than normal.] MAHMEN! [I was starting to get frantic now. Where was she? It’s not like we had a list of relatives that would take us in. In fact, I couldn’t even think of one. Where was she?! I ripped through the apartment, opening every door, but I knew that she wasn’t here. Hadn’t been in a long time.] FUCK!!! [I screamed at the top of my lungs, ready to rip my own hair out. She’d given up on me altogether. That was the only answer. That or… NO! I would not think that she had finally gone into the Fade to be with her hellren. There was one other answer and I was really not jazzed about it.] That FUCKING lawyer!

[It was easy enough to find where his offices were. High priced glymera types wanted you to know where they were so you could come kiss their feet. I’d taken the quickest shower imaginable (which was really too bad because I was dying to enjoy it) and changed into something more my speed. Jeans and a t-shirt. The wardrobe choice was going over really well with receptionist. No, I didn’t have an appointment.  And no, I didn’t care to make one. I pushed right on past and barrelled through the door.] Where the FUCK is my mother!?!!

Gideon

-Tonight was like any other night. My doggen had my appointments set out before me. I read over the court dockets and then the recently released. I couldn’t help it, a huge smile took over the features of my face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Bertha let him live after all.” I thought of his Mahmen, I had her in a safe place, no need for her to suffer for her fucked up sons sins. He needs to be taught a lesson, but in the meantime, she needed to be safe. I would not have anyone suffer for the sins of others the way my Mahmen has. My first appointment came and went right on schedule. It was a simple investment of family money. I still needed to fix the little problem of the blood slave situation. Fucking Glymera, some of them think they are above the law. I raked my fingers through my hair as I thought about my lost flash drive. I needed that to secure my family's safety and old sticky fingers had to go and pick my pocket. I should so frame him for the fucked up case I was preparing now, but dammit to hell, his mother's eyes ripped right through my heart. I couldn’t do that to her. I sipped on my coffee when my door was flung open with a loud slam against the wall. Almost right on cue, it was the ‘Finger Finesser’, Ez Ezekiel. I looked up with a stoic face and mustered up an unapologetic look. “It isn’t my normal business to babysit women of certain age. Perhaps she wised up and kicked you to the curb?” I looked down at the paperwork on my desk. Not reading it, nor interested in it now, but he didn’t know that. I just continued like I didn’t have a care in the on this earth.-

Ezekiel:

[The corner of my eye did the nervous tick thing that it did when I was seeing nothing but red. This fucker was toying with me just like he was the night when he showed up at the apartment. Like I was so far below him that nothing I did really mattered.] You know what? I'm glad I took that drive off of you. And I hope to hell that it stirs up a mess that makes Bertha look like a trip to Disneyland. [I sat my ass down in one of his chairs and kicked my feet up on his desk, getting good and comfy. I had no intention of walking out of here without knowing where my mom was.] You don't know a thing about my mahmen. She would never 'kick me to the curb'. She might be disappointed in me, she might scold me and make me feel like the size of an ant for the rest of my days. But she would never just bail on me. [I stared at him, daring him to contradict me.] I know you know where she is and I'm not leaving until you tell me. Let's see how the rest of your clients feel about some dirty scrub sitting in on your private convos.

Gideon:

-I didn’t give two fucks over his empty threats. I looked over the rim of my glasses at his 1977 shoes he probably fingered from the GoodWill noticing his slight eye twitch. I was a lawyer, we read people like yesterday's newspaper. Little did he know that I had charmed the socks off his Mahmen, it was one of my specialties. But if I was being honest, I didn’t want to see her harmed for the dumbass things her son was doing. No Mahmen should ever suffer for the sins of their family. I knew that first hand. My own was held somewhere because of the sins of my rat bastard father. I also had to do the dirty work of the Glymera for it. I had to get that fucking flash drive back to save my own mother. I didn’t bother to look up as I spoke to him. I was hoping that would piss him off even more. “If you’d like to see an honest night of work, by all means, stay. I’m sure you've never witnessed it yourself.” I now locked eyes with him and spoke these words. “I know more of your mother than you’ll ever know. YOU, will not see her until my drive has been safely returned to me. Don’t make her pay for your sins.” I thought it was a simple request and easily done. I would then take him to his mother, but not until then. It was the only way to ensure my own mother's survival. “Now if you need a job I can help you with that, I need a good house bitch and….” Looking him up and down. “You’d look nice as a French whore.” I chuckled and went back to my paperwork hoping he was mad as hell.-

Ez:

You call this honest work?! [I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair. Tipping backwards, my arms windmilled to keep me from losing my balance. The front two legs came down with a loud crash that sent me laughing all over again.] Seriously? Have you ever even had to dirty your fingers? Ruin your perfect manicure? How bout get a little sweaty? Oh wait. I bet you do plenty of that between the sheets. Probably about it though. [I ran an appraising look over the lawyer. Yeah, okay, the male was hot. Problem was, he knew it. I shrugged it off like he wasn't all that and a bag of chips. His next statement had my lips twisting in a smirk.] For someone who doesn't [holding up quotey fingers] 'babysit women of a certain age', you suddenly know all about my mahmen. Now I'm not a lawyer or anything but to me it sounds like you are full of horseshit. [He knew exactly where she was. I was suddenly picturing him having tea with my mom with his pinky finger sticking out like the snob that he was. Now he just had one more thing to hold over me. Too bad I didn't have the thumb drive anymore. Maybe I could go buy one at the corner market and fill it full of nude pics of me. Yeah... that idea really appealed to me. I was probably grinning like the Cheshire cat right now but I had a sick sense of humor like that. My mom was safe. That's what I really took away from the whole thing. The rest was just going to be me fucking with him until he broke. I got up and leaned over the desk until I was almost nose to nose with him.] I do look really good in a French whore's costume. But you will never see it. [I pushed off the desk and turned my back to him. My gaze roamed the room instead, taking in all of the electrical outlets, switches, lights, computers, all of it that linked into my 'honest' job. And he thought I didn't have one. Asshole. My lips twitched as a plan took form in my head.] I'll be right outside if you need me. [On my way out I picked up a cup that held some pencils in it. I upturned it, letting the pencils fall all over the place, and kept the cup. I reached into my pocket and dropped two coins into the cup, shaking it around. Perfect for panhandling. Laughing loudly as I left the office.]

Gideon:

-I continued to work as the thief threw his little tantrum. I ignored all his animated actions. He knew nothing about me and proceeded to grasp at straws to justify why he was at the bottom of the food chain. I worked hard to get where I was at to keep my Mahmen safe, and this little display of actions led me to believe he no longer had what I was in need of, I did not just begin my practice yesterday. I could read people like last nights news. I do admit; he looks devilishly handsome and sexy as fuck. I could imagine him under the weight of my body screaming out my name in pleasure. It’s too bad that will never happen. He just wants the get rich fast job, and he’d steal I believe from his own family if he hasn’t already to get to the Klout he desired. I raised my head as he walked out the door of my office. Motioning to my doggen to follow him out. “If he pockets one more thing have him restrained, he might need another stretch in the hole; I’m sure Bertha would love to have him back.” I waited until all was quiet and I rang the doggen who was taking care of his Mahmen, I wanted to make sure she had all she needed. I knew she desired to see her son, and I was ready to reunite them until his last outburst. Now, now he needed to be taught a lesson.-

Ezekiel:

[The lawyer wasn't so quiet that I couldn't hear his instruction to the doggen as I walked out. My skin crawled at the mere mention of Bertha but I wasn't going to let it show. That fancy fuck could do with his own re-education, Bertha style. Laughing about it was one thing, living it another. It was fine. I had other plans. Things started taking root in my twisted head as I left. I noted everything and stored it away for future use, even poking my head into some rooms just to see what was in there. My real goal was to find the electrical room, which was no small task with a doggen following you out the door. In a building like this it wouldn't be easy to access and likely in a basement level. I spotted a possible way to get to it and left it at that, shrugging on my way out the front. As soon as I was drawing fresh air I plopped myself down on the sidewalk and held my cup out to every passerby that I found. I ran my fingers through my hair, making it properly messy and adopted a properly downtrodden expression. Any time someone, especially a vampire, went to open the front door I made sure to throw out ample warning about the dangers of what they were to face inside. Yelling and screaming like a crazy person about the lawyer that will take all your money and send you to prison in the same breath.]

GMan:

-My Doggen had eyes on the panhandler outside. Every outburst that shit spewed out was relayed back to me, word for word.  I have had enough of his shenanigans. Grabbing my cell I sent out a text to the ones who worked that raid in his home in front of his mother. ‘The target is out front, approach without being seen and take him down. Bertha wants his cellmate back.’ I tossed my phone to the side, and a smirk took over the features of my face. I scrubbed my hand down my face and stroked my face. This was going to be fun. Of course, he wouldn’t end up with Bertha, but he wouldn’t know that. His only hope was to run. Fast.-

#BDBRW

#BerthaMissesEZ #HeLikesFemalesOfACertainAge

#PutYourSassyPantsBackOn

[sincerelybubbles]

Wake Up (Damien/Darkiplier)

Overview: Paige Brooks was a simple minded person. She did what she needed and keept her nose out of other people’s business. Of course, it is only self preservation, as she didn’t want others to be poking around her life, her secrets were far to big and dangerous. Yet, she can’t seem to keep to herself when a letter arrives from an old friend, one she thought would never speak to her again, inviting her over for a celebration. Drawn to the idea, she forgets that others from her past will be there as well, and she gets herself tangled into a mess she doesn’t think she can handle. A “Who Killed Markiplier” fanfiction, Damien/ Darkiplier x OC

Warnings: I think fuck is said like once or twice? And obviously all of the things mentioned in wkm, of course.

Word Count: 2k

C H A P T E R •F I V E•

Paige: 

I slept. I slept soundly and fully and with no dreams. I slept like I hadn't in weeks rather than hours.

I awoke to thunder. I let my eyes trail over the room with lavender details mixed with pale greys and cold wood. I rolled to my side, before hearing yelling from downstairs.

"What the fu-OH!" I heard Chef yell. I shot up in my bed.

"Last chance, drop your weapon!" Abe called as I jumped to my feet and fixed my gown. I strained to hear the conversation, actions becoming jerky at the word weapon. 

"Master’s prized vase!" Benjamin cried and I threw open my door, the volume of the voices upstairs increasing greatly as I did so. 

"Everyone please! I know we’re all on edge, but can’t we resolve this amicably?" Damien, always the mediator, asked as I took the starts two at a time. 

"On edge?! This psycho tried to shoot me!" Abe yelled. With a gasp and a final step, I stumbled my way to the front door, where guns were drawn between William and Abe. 

"William..." I whispered, drawing the attention of Benjamin and Damien, Will and Abe still glaring at each other, Chef standing in the corner and watching everything happening, (Y/N) watched with a concerned look on their face. 

"That’s a bold-faced lie. I was merely doing some light target practice." William fixed his grip on his gun, glaring at Abe. 

"Abe...?" I whispered in a soft broken voice. Cold anxiety wrapped around my stomach, my broken heart squeezed painfully. 

"Inside?!" Benjamin looked at me, face white. I waved him off. It was fine. It would not be fine when this ended with another person important to me dead on the floor. 

"Well, yes, I couldn’t go on the ground now with that bloody chef in my way, could I?" William and Abe stood in a deadlock. They weren't giving up. 

My hands reached up and started to tug on a lock of hair, wrapping it around my fingers, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. 

"Damn right you should remember that, Private! Besides, you’re not my boss anymore." Chef crossed his arms. 

I shivered as a warm hand met mine and pulled me back away from the scene a few steps. I knew it was Damien, but I was too focused on the appalling scene in front of me. 

(Y/N) quickly turned at my moment, focusing on my for a second, before turning back to the argument. 

"It’s Colonel, you know." Will speak through gritted teeth. I needed to say something. They needed to stop. This couldn't continue. 

what are you going to do? 

"Enough of this horseshit! You knew I was onto you and you were trying to whack me off before I could finger you… As the murderer!" Abe yelled, his voice echoing throughout the room, making me flinch. 

A warm arm wrapped around my waist, bringing me comfort. 

"I will not be called a murderer in my own home!" William's finger shifted on the trigger. I sucked in a breath, prepared for the loud bang of the gun..

"Stop!" A voice, a beacon of hope, yelled.

The grand front doors swung open. A beautiful woman with short dark hair and a long dress stood in the doorway. Her pale skin seemed to glow as she took a step in the house.

"What are you doing?!" She yelled at the two men holding their guns. 

Her voice was familiar and I almost collapsed at the relief of seeing her. Everything would be okay. I turned my head to look at Damien, his attention was focused on her, his sister. His arm slid up to my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"Who the hell are you?" Abe snarled. I could see the confusion on (Y/N)'s face. 

"Celine? What are you doing here?" Will's voice was softer then Abe's, but I was still scared. 

”'Celine'? How the hell do you know her?" Abe was loosing his cool, his hands wrapped tightly around the weapon in his hands. 

"Madame, I’m afraid you’ve come at a very inopportune time. Something dreadful has happened here." Benjamin stepped forward, the first to properly greet her. 

"I can see that, and I’m glad I got here before it got any worse." Celine stepped more into the house, pulling her thin shaw about her small shoulders. Her feet clicked in black heels, her long black dress swirling at her feet. 

"This is only the tip of the iceberg! And it’s a big iceberg. How can I put this delicately… MARK’S FUCKING DEAD!" Chef's harsh words made me grimace.

I was pulled closer still to Damien's side and I leaned into him. 

"What?" Celine scanned the room, face falling at the sight of me. I knew I probably looked a mess, but my thoughts were too focused to trying to keep up with what has happening around me to even attempt to fix myself. 

"Dead like my hopes and dreams. And he’s a flesh eating zombie, too!" Chef explained and I raised my eyebrows at the new information, glancing again at Damien. He met my eyes this time and gave me a small shake of his head. 

"Homo necrosis-" Celine was cut off. 

"Exactly. Hence the gun!" William waved the weapon in the air, causing me to flinch. How was he so reckless with something so deadly. 

"That is not 'hence the gun'!" Abe called out, frustrated, mimicking Williams moments with his gun. I pulled back from the scene more, catching the attention of Benjamin. 

"Stop waving those bloody guns around!" Benjamin yelled. I sank in relief when they obeyed. 

"Hol- Hold on! Tell me what happened! How did Mark… die?" Poor Celine. She met her eyes with everyone in the room. I set my chin when she looked at me. She sent me a sympathetic smile as I did so. 

"It was murder." Damien was the last one she looked at, so he took it upon himself to answer. Thunder rolled in the distance. "And worse yet, the body is missing." My head snapped up to look at Damien. He squeezed my shoulder, not looking at me. 

"What? Show me. And don’t say that word." Celine looked flustered. I had never seen her flustered before and it shocked me.

Ever since we were children, she was able to see things, know things, do the impossible. She was almost never caught off guard. When she grew to an adult, she took the title 'seer'. 

"What word? Murder?" Thunder rolled in the distance, lightning flashing in the room. 

"Yes! That word!" Celine yelled, angered. 

"Well, I mean murder-" more lightning, more thunder, filled the room, "-is a rather accurate description of what occur-" Celine cut him off 

"Do you not see that lightning?" Celine raised an eyebrow. 

"You sayin’ it was lightning that murdered-" thunder clapped. I saw it now, how was I so oblivious? "-Mark?" Abe finished, disregarding the lightning that filled the room with white. 

"Well, Mother Nature doesn’t really strike me as having murderous-" Will was cut off by more thunder and lightning. "-intent… Unless you count that time I was pulled into the board game Jumanji and I-!" Celine cut him off, throwing her hands up. 

"Stop, stop! Look, whatever’s happening here is tapping into forces far beyond our control." Celine explained, and I believed her. I could almost feel the unnatural air. 

"Murder." Thunder rolled, lightning filling the room after Chef mumbles the small, two syllable word. 

"Mur…doch?" Will tried. 

"Malarkey." Abe slowed the word, stressing every syllable. 

What were they doing? 

"Marco-!" Benjamin joined in.

"Melancholy." I whispered, feeling Damien chuckle slightly. 

"Enough." Celine sighed, making her way to me. " We need to sit down and talk. But first, Paige. . ." She stopped close to me and grabbed my chin. 

Damien's arm loosed around my shoulders, now not protective, just comforting. Celine tilted my face up so she could see into my eyes. "Paige, I need to talk to you alone." She said after a minute. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Tears burned in the back of my throat. 

you shouldn't have come here.

useless.

weak.

listen to me, i can make it all stop.

you just have to make them stop.

I nodded at Celine. I trusted her. 

"Alright. Everyone, into the dining room. Paige and I will be there shortly, we need to talk all together. Something is happening in this house, and I might have an idea." Celine's voice was a command that everyone followed, sans Damien and I. 

Damien stayed by my side. "Celine." He said, taking to his sister directly for the first time since she stepped in. I attempted to step back to give them privacy, but he stopped me, keeping me by his side. Damien had always been protective of me as a child, maybe some things never change. 

"Well will talk later Damien, I promise. But right now, I really need to talk to Paige. Alone." Her tone was cold and I felt Damien stiffen before releasing his hold on my shoulders. 

Damien bent to my ear level, "I will just be outside of the door" he mumbled in my ear before walking out of the room. 

"Come." Celine had taken a softer tone. She lead me across the room, red rugs a sharp contrast to the dark wood under my bare feet. We stopped in the room next to the foyer. It was a small room leading to the hallway, decorated with golden accents. 

"I. . . Can't tell you much. I am sorry for that. I'm guessing that you. . ." Again, Celine seemed uncomfortable. Maybe she had changed from the last time I saw her. Maybe she wasn't as assured as she used to be. Or maybe she was just in shock from finding out Mark had died. 

"If you're talking about the burning, then yes, I did." My voice was soft, ashamed. As children, we had spent hours in the garden trying to control this curse, trying to turn it into something useful. We only managed to figure out how to stop it from happening, and I was embarrassed to tell Celine that, after years of nothing that I gave into the heat and almost hurt Damien again. 

she hates you.

you're better off without her. 

do as i say.

do as i do.

i will make it all go away. 

i promise. 

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I let a sniffle loose. Celine gave me a sympathetic smile before reaching into her small purse. Gently, she pulled out a tightly folded piece of paper. 

When she handed it to me, I unfolded it to reveal an envelope with my name on it, written in my mother's handwriting. 

I almost dropped it in shock. 

"Shh, it is okay. Open it when you're ready, when we have all of this figured out. I got one too, a letter. She explained a few things. Now it's your turn to learn what you need to know." Celine closed my hand tightly around the letter before pulling me into a brief hug.

I had the small thought that maybe she needed the hug just as much as I did, but she walked off before I could say anything. 

I clutched the letter, looking at it for a minute, before folding it up again and tucked it into the top side of my dress, where the fabric pulled sight against my side. 

I ran my fingers under my eyes before walking into the dining room where everyone was arguing.