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kitsu-katsu · 3 years

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About revived (by Derivakat)

(Disclaimer: Nothing against Derivakat, I think her songs are amazing in general and she's very talented, I simply have a bone to pick with these lyrics and characterization)

So um, here's my counter to some of the lyrics because fuck it, I'm tired and fueled by spite, let's go:

Let's start with the chorus:

"White streak in my hair but no stress now" - Funnily incorrect, cc!Wilbur confirmed that the white hair is from stress itself, it's not about the revival process alone. Also just by reasoning, I cannot imagine what might have been stressful about spiralling and believing that the world is out to crush you, believing that you're the scum of the Earth as well, only to die, spend 13 and half years in dark isolation and then being jolted back up to life missing huge chunks of information, really cannot fathom how that might be stressful /s

"I've seen hell, but this is a bit more my style" - True you know? It's awesome that he's said that he's over the moon about being alive again after spending 13 and a half years of pure isolation in the dark, screming until his throat was hoarse. But coming from the tone of it, I'd like to point out that Wilbur's also still passively suicidal and self harms (check out the part under "He doesn't love TNT, he self-harms with it" in this post)

"A decade of time to make everything mine" (also counts for "This is my sunrise, this is my dawn, this is what I've waited for all along. All of this time, all this is mine. MINE. MINE. MINE!")- Honestly, based on what he's been doing, no prejudices, forget everything fandom's said: he doesn't really seem to want to "make everything his", does he? This perception mostly comes from him saying "This is my sunrise, this is mine!" in the original revival stream, however, if you forget about common fandom perception, what's so evilly framed about a guy who spent 13 and a half years of isolation in the dark saying "this is my sunrise!" after watching the sun coming up again for the first time since his death, in which he was extremely emotionally unstable? Like for real?

Now onto the verses:

"Am I the bad guy? I'll be the bad guy again" and "I've come back hell-bent" - Now, he has said that: “Here’s the thing, Tommy. I, I, I, I know I was bad, and I know I can redeem myself, but like, you know, there’s a little bit of fun in being bad, you know, we’ve spoken about this.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 11:31, 5th May), BUT, since then he's also expressed genuine remorse for his worse actions during Pogtopia (check out the parts under "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" and "Wilbur cares. A LOT" in this post), a wanting to redeem himself and truly become better and... uh... OH! He's also admitted that he's afraid he scares people and cried when Ranboo said that he was "an alright person". For real, just watch the Healthy Competition stream and read this reddit post by cc!Wilbur

The reddit post in question, just in case:

"You think I cared? It was always a means to an end" - So false. Just... so false. Ok, so quick one, let's review the actual lines said originally about him "not caring for L'manburg" in full:

“Uh, one thing, I didn’t actually really care about L'Manberg, I just cared about, you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L'Manberg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 24:18, 5th May)

“Look, I- Okay, I said it wrong. Look, I did care about- I did care about L'Manberg, but I cared about it for- You would call it the wrong reasons, but I, I- Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it too hard. Look, L'Manberg’s gone now, we’ve got that, you know- That, that wart on my side is gone, you know. I salute it, I salute it, you know, it was a great- It was a great place.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 25:18, 5th May)

“Look, Tommy, I’m gonna reiterate for you once more because I don’t think you quite understood, and that’s okay, you know, you don’t need to understand everything. I did care about L'Manberg. I did, I did. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, Tommy. L'Manberg would have been as loved by me had it been called Bimbum and was built in the middle of the desert.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:05, 5th May)

“The actual location, and the actual things it was, it were, were not important to me. It’s the thing it stood for. Which was freedom, liberty, and sticking it to the man, Tommy!” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:26, 5th May)

“We were a family, Tommy. We were…” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 27:26, 5th May)

So as you may see, he retracts himself immediately and explains his feelings with more nuance

Then, let's look at the more recent confession to Ranboo:

“I told Tommy that I didn’t actually care about L'Manberg, and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain like, you know, power and stuff. But it’s not, it’s not true.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:36, 3rd Aug)

“L'Manberg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

“I want it to, em, I want its history to live on not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically just took a big shit on the history books, it feels like. I wanna, I wanna make it, I wanna make it feel like it was, you know, it was something that happened. You know, it was a great thing, you know, think of the good times. The- The years of safety. Well, not years, but you know.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

If this got more explicit I'd be literally hitting you over the head with it. Anyway, check out the parts under "Wilbur cared. A LOT" and "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with" in this post

"So who cares? So what? I'm not calming down" and "Shut up! And listen" - “Tommy, shut up! I mean, Tommy, come over here. Tommy, come over here, come over here, man. It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool. Sorry, I, I-” (Alivebur)

– (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 26:08, 31st May)

That line's totality gets often cut down, erasing the immediate apology after the loss of cool. Furthermore, I'd argue that him "not calming down" in general is mainly due to his euphoria and overexcitement during certain scenes where it makes complete sense for him to be feeling like that, and in a broader sense, he has a tendency to say things in the heat of the moment and out of impulsivity that he turns to later regret from all the way back at Pogtopia. Him not calming down now is either out of impulsivity or outright euphoria to be out of limbo, not necessarily an evil thing. And when he percieves he should calm down, he tries his best to do it, or apologizes for snapping

“I’m sorry I wasn’t, you know, entirely on the same page. But, man, I promise you, I’ve calmed down, you know, I’m all, I’m all settled in. I understand, you know, what’s changed, what hasn’t, who’s new, who’s old, you know, who’s still about, you know, who… Who, uh… uh… Who trusts me and stuff.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 15:04, 3rd Aug)

“I relived that explosion in my head so many times man. And, and, and I- I get that you don’t, you don’t trust me, I do, but like, man, look at me, bro, I’m not gonna do it again. I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna hurt you again.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 21:21, 3rd Aug)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times" and "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized" in this post)

"There's nothing wrong with me" - BUDDY. Wilbur drowns in self-hatred, what are you talking about? The man got caught off guard and cried when someone said "you're an alright person"... He's worried that he scares people, he knows how others see him on top of his own self-hatred

“TommyInnit, as you know, is just, he thinks I’m insane. I’m not insane, chat, I’m not insane.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 4:30, 16th Oct)

“See, I’m not so crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 16:40, 16th Oct)

“I’ve told you, I’m not crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing, and this is genuinely the best thing we could do right now.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 17:18, 16th Oct)

“I’m not crazy! How am I crazy?!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 43:18, 17th Oct)

“Everyone I seem to meet has this deep intrisnic feeling of disgust towards me. Jack Manifold seemed to be quite nice to me, but I reckon he, I could feel it, you know, in his stare. But like, you don’t have that. I can tell you’re a good guy.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 30:24, 5th May)

“Quackity, I’ve, I’ve, I’ve, I’ll be honest you with you, I’ve lost everything, man. I, um. I’ve lost decades of my life. I’ve lost my- most of the people who cared about me. Some people don’t even know I’m back yet, and I, and I think that’s probably for the best. So I feel like that does humble a man. That really humbles a man, you know?” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:00:52, 31st May)

“Listen, Phil, I met, I met Quackity. After you very kindly lent me your house. I went and met him. Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

“Not many people do. I mean, Phil, you don’t seem afraid of me, you’re not afraid of me, are you, Phil?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:03, 25th July)

“Good, good. 'Cause I’m not afraid of you.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:10, 25th July)

“Why? Why? … No, no, no, no, no, not the, not the bit about the, not the bit about the right foot, the why don’t you think I’m a bad person?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 35:13, 25th July)

“Can I be real with you, man? I think I scare people.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:30, 25th July)

“I mean, like I, I, I, I don’t think I, I- I think a lot of people share your idea, but they share your idea in trying to- trying to keep me from hurting them, you know? Like they’ve seen what I can do, and they don’t want me to do it again, so they adopt your emotion in order to do it.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:46, 25th July)

“Dream is- He’s had his comeuppance, and I have not! My comeuppance was apparently not good enough for this people. They’re just waiting, they’re waiting for the next thing for me to slip up on, and, Ranboo, I’m not gonna fucking slip up, Ranboo. I’m different.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:07, 25th July)

“I’m living in eternal limbo, again. I’ve been through limbo, I’m out of limbo, and socially, I’m still in this limbo.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:36, 25th July)

(Check out the parts under "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character" and "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character" in this post)

"Oh yes, I blew up the nation!" (said with glee) - I make a point of the tone in this specific line, because I could make a point of the tone in the whole song, but this line is a good example. He didn't blow up L'manburg just with glee like "hell yeah! I did it!". Of course he talks about it with pride sometimes, but it's usually either said in the middle of the same impulsive moments in which he'd claim he doesn't care, said with relief of him having control over at least that situation (like him sighing right after doing it just to ask Phil to finish it off by killing him), or said with the same deflection with which he'd claim that not having a grave didn't affect him and was badass actually since he only wanted it for the hateful obituaries anyway (which was a lie, and he admitted it on the third of august stream when saying "I was so pressed about not having a grave" in case you had doubts)

Finally, I want to make emphasis on the fact that: The explosion on the 16th had two main drives behind it and they often get glossed over. The first objectivee was blowing it up and causing just enough destruction to get L'manburg back (You know, when Wilbur still had some kind of hope). After his spiral went further and his paranoia and self-loathing worsened, his two drives become apparent: First was blowing it up to rid the world of the twisted thing L'manburg became, ridding the world of what the twisted version of his ideals became with Schlatt in control of them. Secondly, he wanted to end L'manburg as a part of himself and rid the world of himself completely (by this I'm referencing his suicide), he decided he wanted to die and expected that as a result since a lot of time before the 16th. The explosion was effectively a bigger projection of his suicide, rid the world of both himself and his creation, mixed with his constant desire to protect, it also becomes "rid the world of the corrupted version of L'manburg that became Manburg", because for all intents and purposes, since the important thing about L'manburg was its founding ideals, L'manburg had been dead for a long time at that point.

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times", "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with", and "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" in this post)

#tw self harm mention #tw suicide mention #wilbur #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #wilbur dsmp #revived #revivedbur #alivebur #revived wilbur #derivakat revived #fandom critical #dsmp #dream smp #analysis #c!wilbur analysis

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Finally, You’re Back

Part 1: ‘There You Are’

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil 8: Village) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of Injury and Human Experimentation, Insecurity, Swearing, Spoilers for RE8

Genre: Angst, Romance, Some Humor and Fluff too

Summary: And there they are, back in that village half a decade later to retrieve what’s theirs but unaware of what they’ll find in place of what they remember.

Requested by one Anon and the idea was modified by another Anon, so thank you both so much for sharing your creativity with me, it’s really been a huge honor to write a fic inspired by such a beautiful idea. Love you both! 💕

If again is what he hoped and prayed for, why is he damning it now Why does he resent himself for having hope When he previously wished nothing but to have it Why does their presence hurt When it used to heal him Why do they remind him of how much of a monster he is When previously they were the only one making him human Why is he worthy of their presence When he’s only become worse They upheld their promise But the person they are coming back to is no longer alive He’s taken his place and he hates himself for it He’d kill himself to get him back He’d do just about anything Just to prevent those eyes from seeing them differently Just so he can greet them with open arms and say:

“Finally, you’re back“

But as of now all he can say is:

“You’re back, but the one you’re searching for will never return“

He was made aware of their presence the day of their arrival in the village. He knew all about their venture, going around the village asking for him to be looked at with terror by the villagers they came across. He watched as all the people refused to tell them his whereabouts, claiming they didn’t know or they couldn’t tell. No matter what bribery or convincing method Y/N tried to use, the villagers refused to stand down from their determined ground.

They refused to give up though, going against his prayers that they would. They might have felt discouraged but they never, not even for a second, thought to give it up. Never did they even consider forgetting him as an option. It’s been half a decade and they still remember him, they still have the will to look for him despite all the time that has passed, despite the odds that aren’t in their favor, despite the lack of help from anyone.

They keep going, keep trying. They keep driving the sword deeper into his chest, piercing his heart.

If only they could accept me like this. If only they could look at a monster the same way they looked at that boy they met five years ago...

His mistake, although blatantly obvious even to him, is not something he’s willing to correct. He doesn’t want to give them a chance. And the answer to the question many - even he himself - would ask ‘why’, that answer he doesn’t want revealed.

Because he knows it and would do anything in his power to keep it from swimming to the surface.

The answer? - It’s because he’s afraid. Terrified really.

What of? That’s the part he’s not sure about. Is he afraid of them being scared, disgusted and repulsed by him? Or is he afraid of the complete opposite - that they won’t bat an eye at the change he’s undergone. That latter option leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth, his stomach turning. He doesn’t believe he deserves that reaction, after all he’s done, after becoming the monster he is now, he’s done his best to not even think about them - attempts that have failed miserably. Not a day has gone by that they haven’t been on his mind. He thought getting rid of the dog tag necklace - the promise - would cleanse his system of their memory that’s etched itself so deeply within his mind and soul but his hands refused to cooperate when his brain kept telling them to lift that necklace off his neck. He couldn’t do it, and he hated himself because of it for a while, but if he’s being honest he felt more relieved than anything else. He doesn’t want the only real memory, the only pleasant memory of his human days gone. He doesn’t want to wipe Y/N from his mind, they’re the only thought that still sends his heartbeat speeding in a positive way. He knows he’s a coward for what he does, hiding in the shadows and watching them waste their time with the villagers who think they are downright insane for going around looking for Karl Heisenberg whom the entire village knows as Lord Heisenberg. Not using his title each time they ask never fails to bring a smile to his face. It’s a relief that they at least have a nice picture of him that has stuck with them. And if it’s up to him, that’s the picture that will remain, they won’t see him like this, this new him won’t replace the old him in their mind. He’d do anything to make sure of it.

That being said, you can imagine the massive shock and mini heart attack he experienced one day when his motion detectors picked up on someone entering the factory in broad daylight. Rushing to the camera display, the briefest glimpse was enough to make out who this foolish person looking for their death was.

Goddammit, Y/N!

It was no longer a danger to his sanity, their presence at the factory was an even worse danger for them. His creations wouldn’t think twice about slicing their tiny frame in half with their implemented chainsaws, designed to do exactly what he’s hoping they won’t get the chance to do this time. Running to the elevator, all he can do is silently pray he reaches them before they come across one of his minions.

What he’s going to say to them? How he’s gonna greet them? He hasn’t got the slightest clue, all he knows is that he has to get to them asap.

Running out of the elevator once it settles on the ground floor, he almost crashes directly into them, eyes wide with shock as the adrenaline is still pumping throughout his body despite the immense amount of relief he feels wash over him. He doesn’t notice at first, but when he does his heart sinks: their gaze is empty and their face unreadable. He can’t bear to have them looking at him like that, it hurts more than physically hitting him. Hell, it hurts more than the experiments Miranda did to him.

“How’d you find me?“ He decides to end the silence for his sanity’s sake, his heart heavy and aching in his chest.

They shrug, “Wasn’t easy, I’ll have to admit, you’ve trained the villagers well, none of em wanted to give me even a clue.“ They give him a small smile before looking around at the factory walls and everything lining them, “And then I put it together on my own. It was a bit of a stretch...“ they trail off, their eyes scanning him from head to toe, “...but I see it was a lucky one.“

He can’t help but huff, more out of disgust for himself than anything else, “If you call this lucky you’ve gotta have a few screws loose.”

Much to his surprise, this remark earns him a genuine, wholehearted laugh from Y/N, “Oh Karl, didn’t you pick up on my loose screws back when we first met? That’s odd, people usually take one look and can already tell.”

He scoffs, letting a small smile slip onto his face before he chases it away, forcing himself to maintain the seriousness, “I can’t believe how foolish you are. Didn’t you, even for a second, think there was maybe a good reason why people didn’t want to give you my whereabouts?”

“Oh I didn’t need to think about it!“ They say, lifting a pointer finger in the air as if to emphasize their point, “They were pretty clear when they were calling you stuff like ‘monster’ and ‘cruel Lord’ or whatever.“

Heisenberg’s eyes widen in an instant, “So you knew? You knew I was...I wouldn’t be the same as you remember me?” He asks, his jaw almost reaching the floor.

They nod nonchalantly, “I mean, I was sure of that part, it’s been half a decade, after all. Of course, I didn’t expect such a drastic change but it changes nothing. The villagers made it all sound super scary and dramatic...”

Karl doesn’t get confused often. However, right now, they’ve got him completely flabbergasted. “You were told about me...about me being what I am and you still showed up and walked into this place everyone fears like you own it? Where the fuck is your self-preservation instinct?!”

With an eye-roll, Y/N pushes past him, entering the elevator and walks over to the buttons to choose a floor, “Up your ass, Heisenberg. Right next to the stick that’s got you in such a foul mood. Is this how you welcome back an old friend?” Though the words themselves were harsh, they spoke them in such a way and with a sincere look in their eyes that they had the complete opposite effect of what they’d usually have. Hell, he wants to laugh at the vocabulary on its own, it’s so refreshing to hear someone use those terms and speak so freely around him, unfazed by his powers. To be fair, they’re probably not even aware he has any.

Looking at them now, their intense gaze telling him loud and clear that they’re completely unfazed, has him going soft. They’re still his connection to the humanity he’s lost, he’s still clinging onto it thanks to them. And while he still believes he doesn’t deserve to preserve any last piece of it, he’s glad that he’s not the judge of that. The punishment is not his to decide. It’s theirs. And who knows, allowing him to keep a tiny fragment of his humanity may be the ultimate punishment but he doesn’t know it yet. Regardless, he’s happy with it as long as it means he has them by his side to carry said punishment out.

When all they get in response to their words is a laugh they too let a smile lighten up their features, “There you go, knock some humor into you.” They turn to look at the buttons briefly before locking their gaze onto him once again, “I like what you did with the place. Care to show me around?”

He shakes his head as his laughter dies down, “You won’t like it.”

Y/N rolls their eyes yet again, “Leave that up for me to decide, old man.”

A frown comes across Heisenberg’s face, “Old man? How dare you?”

The sound of their laughter almost manages to wipe the frown off his face. Almost. “Old man who can pull off even a century old dog tag necklace.” They say, sizing up the necklace resting over his chest which he automatically reaches out to touch as a result of her remark. “You can keep it, by the way. I don’t need it back. I’ll be sticking around for some time after all.”

Before he can even process what they said, they’ve pulled him into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, looking out of the open side of it to be able to see the inside of the factory as the metal box keeps climbing, carrying them with it. Their back is turned to him so he can’t see the look on their face but he can only hope it’s not one of horror or disgust. If he were to receive that look from them his heart would shatter on the spot. So he’d rather they don’t turn around - both for him not to be able to see them grimacing and so they can’t see him staring at them with that look in his eyes.

Look of adoration he’s never given anyone before nor will he ever give to anyone else. And so, all the pieces of his soul have found their proper spots.

Thanks to Y/N.

Finally, you’re back.

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bluebirdsbluebells · 4 years

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You Get What You Get - part two

Summary: One mistake. One little mistake. That was all it took for everything to suddenly flip. You knew that you should’ve stayed in that night, and you were right from the beginning. You should’ve never let the blonde from the beach walk you home, and you were paying the price for it.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader (slight Topper x reader but it’s not romanticized like at all)

Warnings: swearing… lil angst ig

Words: 4.1k

A/N: I just wanted to say that for the sake of the story, there is only one high school in town. Looks and Pogues go to the same one regardless of status, mostly because I need the story to flow easier. Ik this part is a little slower, but I just needed to get this done because the next chapter is all fluff Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part too! I really appreciate any kind of feedback or comments that you guys might have!:) Also, I finished chapter three as well, so that will be out a lot faster!!

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You were terrified to go back to school. You had no idea what was going to happen. Topper wouldn’t answer any of your texts or calls, and you got so desperate that you even tried Rafe and Kelce. Neither one of them answered, and you knew that it was Topper’s doing. Rafe always answered your texts, despite how little you wrote to him. But not that time. That time it was like you hadn’t even reached out.

You were panicking. You couldn’t even finish the rest of the schoolwork; that’s how upset you were. It was such a stupid fucking mistake! You knew that you shouldn’t have let JJ walk you back. It was just the alcohol and your need to get home quickly. You just weren’t thinking straight. Topper should’ve understood that; he was the one that had forced you to go. You just wished he would’ve pick up your calls. If you could’ve just explained to him that you hadn’t meant any ill intentions…

“Stupid,” you mumbled to yourself as you stood in front of the mirror. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re so stupid!”

“Y/N?” You heard your father call, and your eyes widened slightly. “Is that you?”

“Who else could it be?” You jokingly laughed back, but you didn’t feel any humour in you.

You opened the door, and your father stood on the other side, staring down at you. “Who were you talking to?” Your father laughed, dramatically peering into the bathroom. You chuckled along with him, then opened the door up a little further.

“Just myself.” You grabbed your brush from the counter and slowly ran it through your hair, swallowing tightly. You didn’t want your father to think anything was wrong. To him you were always a happy kid, and in entire honesty, you were. You rarely complained about anything, and for the most part you were content with your life. It would’ve been hard to speak to your father about anything too serious.

“Your mother and I heard you come in late last night,” your father started, stepping into the bathroom. “Did Topper walk you home?” You met his gaze in the mirror. “Yes,” you lied, setting the brush down on the counter and picking up an almost empty bottle of lotion. You shook it twice, then squeezed a sizable amount into your palm, running it smoothly over your skin.

“Good,” your father breathed, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets, still watching you in the mirror. “Did you have much to drink?” “A little,” you answered. “Not a ton though.”

“Good,” your father replied, nodding slowly. He was a quiet man, but you could always tell when he had something on his mind. You knew that right then, he absolutely had something on his mind, but you didn’t want to hang around to find out. You already had enough on your plate.

“Sorry Dad,” you said, pushing past him as you headed back down to your room. “I’ve really gotta get going.”

You left him standing in the bathroom, feeling slightly guilty, but you really just couldn’t take it. School, Topper, JJ, fucking Rafe… it was all too much all too suddenly.

You grabbed your bag from you bed and then looked yourself over in the mirror before heading back down the hallway, then darting down the steps. You weren’t sure if your mother was out or still sleeping, so you didn’t worry about saying goodbye. Instead, you just grabbed your keys and headed out the door, not even bothering about breakfast. You were too nervous for it anyways.

What was Topper going to do? What had he already done? Had he turned everyone against you? Told the whole school that you were hanging around with JJ? Told all of the Obx that you were a cheater? You had no idea. Topper possessed a kind of power that you didn’t even want to begin to think about, so who knows what kind of shit he had pulled.

You rolled up in front of the Outer Banks high school, feeling nothing but nerves and guilt. You had majorly fucked up. You had to find Topper, but first you had to find Emerson and Scarlett. You had been texting and calling them over the whole rest of the weekend; crying and whining and panicking. They both let you go off about Topper, and you were insanely grateful. There was a light tap at your passenger’s side window, and you glanced over, half expecting to see an angry Topper, but it was Emerson, her bright smile raising your spirits slightly.

“Open the door you goon!” She called through the glass, and you unlocked it. She climbed inside, slamming the door behind her.

“Hey,” you breathed, tapping your fingers nervously on your thighs.

“Hey,” she replied, tilting her head at you. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” you replied quietly, watching the teens in front of you. Some walked into the school while the others just stood outside and mingled; laughing, throwing things at each other and exchanging words.

“It’ll be okay Y/N,” Emerson assured you. “Topper is just dramatic.”

You sighed. “I know that, but this time it was really bad Em. He won’t answer anything.”

“Maybe it’s better this way,” she said, shrugging at you. “He doesn’t want the relationship to end. He just needs some space to cool down.”

“How do you know that?” You asked sharply, instantly regretting your tone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m just stressed about it.”

“I get that,” Emerson started, “but you know what girl? Just forget about it for now. If he’s not talking then he’s not talking. Just try not to let it dampen your mood, m’kay? I know it’s tough but… just try and focus on everything else.”

You blinked at her. Emerson was always a good friend to you. She was probably the most level-headed person you knew. She was easy to talk to and even better at giving advice. Apparently she was “in tune” with the universe or something.

“Okay.” You let out a heavy breath. “Okay.” You nodded at her, then you nodded to yourself. “I can do that.”

“You can totally do that,” Emerson urged, and you nodded to yourself once more. But you didn’t feel much better.

“I just- what if everyone knows? Do you think that they think I’m a chea-“

“Y/N,” Emerson cut you off. “No one thinks that. As far as I know, Topper hasn’t even told anyone. Just take a deep breath, and let’s get to class. The first bell has already gone.”

You looked over at her slowly, a pained expression on your face. She gave you back a confident nod, then she reached over the squeeze your arm.

You had to get out of the car. You just needed to do it. With another urge from Emerson, and a quick look at your watch, your forced yourself out of the vehicle.

Realistically you knew you hadn’t done anything bad, but you still felt like a cheater. A liar. A bad girlfriend. Deep down inside you truly felt like Topper deserved it, but you would never admit that to anyone. Emerson probably thought it, but she wouldn’t have admitted it either. It probably messed with her connection to the earth or something spiritual like that.

“Where’s Scarlett?” You asked nervously, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“I think Sarah picked her up.”

“Oh- okay,” you whispered, slowly walking towards the main doors.

Sarah had been your first friend when you moved to Obx, and you thought she was a nice girl, but your desire to stay away from Rafe was a lot stronger than your desire to be closer with Sarah, so unfortunately you two weren’t the best of friends. You never had anything against her though.

You stepped into the main hall, your eyes darting around for Topper, or worse; JJ. You knew the chances of him actually showing up were slim, and you had zero classes together apart from active living and media technology— both that he rarely went to. You just didn’t want anything to get any worse.

“Oh fuck there’s Kelce,” you muttered, and you instinctively stepped behind Emerson, who shook her head at you.

“You’re gonna draw attention to yourself,” she said, and then she interlaced her fingers with yours. “Let’s just get to bio, okay?”

You nodded and followed her into the classroom. You were relieved when no one tried to kill you as you took your seat. Nobody made a scene. It was fine. It was normal. Maybe Topper hadn’t said anything after all.

You looked for Topper the whole day, but it wasn’t until fifth block that he finally made his appearance. You were walking with Emerson and another guy — Roy — when Topper swung by, his hand wrapping your wrist. You instantly tensed at his touch, but to your surprise he presented you with a smile.

“Mind if I steal her for a second?” Topper asked Emerson, who looked at you first for approval. You nodded at her slightly.

“No problem,” Emerson replied sweetly, and Topper gave her a short nod before pulling you away. He led you down the hallway, then stopped right before the outside doors.

“Listen,” he said, his smile faltering slightly. Your stomach twisted as he spoke. “I was really fucking upset at you Y/N. I’m still angry.”

You felt a lump form in the back of your throat. “As you should be,” you answered.

“But I want to put this behind us, okay?” His eyes met yours, and you nodded enthusiastically at him.

“Absolutely,” you said firmly. “I do too.”

“Good,” Topper said, and he let his hand fall from your wrist. You hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding on to you.

“I’m just so sorry Topper,” you said, shaking your head at yourself. “It was completely a stupid mistake. I didn’t mean anything bad.”

“You’re right,” Topper replied shortly. “It was a stupid mistake. But you’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“And I don’t want you talking to JJ again,” he added. “That dirty fucking Pogue. If I see him with you again-“

“You won’t,” you replied shortly. “You won’t. I promise.”

“Good,” Topper answered, watching you. You had no idea if he believed you or not, but the important part was that he was willing to move forward. “Where are you headed now?”

“English,” you answered, your hands going up to fiddle with your backpack straps.

“Alright,” Topper said, and then he grabbed the back of your neck, placing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll drop by your place later tonight, okay?”

“Sounds good,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You would most definitely be at home studying. Your bio teacher had given you yet another assignment, and a bell quiz for the next day.

You were just pleased that Topper hadn’t blown up at you. It was most likely because of the setting, but the point was that he had approached you to make things better.

And the rest of the day went smoothly. You focussed as hard as you could in your classes, and you felt more and more relaxed as the day went on; it was like nothing had ever happened between you and Topper. It was smooth sailing from there.

Until it wasn’t.

You were seated in your car, and you were just about to text Emerson and ask if she was catching a ride home with Roy when there was a tap on the passenger’s window. Assuming it was Emerson, you unlocked the door and dropped your phone into the cup holding beside you.

“I was just going to text- oh my god.”

“Hey,” JJ said quickly as he hopped into the car, closing the door swiftly behind him.

Your eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Oh I’m… well currently I’m sitting in your car. It’s a nice one. Very-”

“I mean what are you doing here?” You asked, flustered. Your eyes darted back to the school, then to the cars beside you. If Topper saw…

“Oh,” JJ laughed. Was he out of his damn mind? What the hell was he thinking? “Well I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He winked at you. He fucking winked at you. Was he crazy?

“You wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“You’re crazy,” you chuckled sarcastically, shaking your head at him. “This is crazy.”

“I know. But the thrill makes it a lot more exciting, huh sweetheart?” He turned his upper body so that he was facing you better, and then he placed his elbow on to middle console; chin sitting in his palm. You couldn’t help but stare at him, and not because he was good looking — which you had always known — but because he was beat; cut up; split lip, bruised cheekbone, scabbed skin above his eyebrow. You couldn’t but feel a guilt surge through you, and your shoulders sagged.

“JJ…” you trailed off, cringing as you brought your hand up. Your fingers hovered by his cheek, but you didn’t let them touch him. It was too risky. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He waved you off. “Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

“I feel bad,” you mumbled, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. You quickly glanced ahead of you, then did a double take. Rafe and Topper were not fifteen feet away, poking fun at each other and laughing.

Without thinking you reached over and shoved JJ down. He yelped out, trying to resist you, but you hissed at him to stay put.

“Jesus Christ!” He cursed, and you glared at him.

“Shut up,” you whisper-shouted. “Topper is right there!”

JJ raised his brows at you, but stayed in place. He may have been pretty fucking stupid, but at least he listened to you then.

Topper and Rafe were still laughing with each other; they hadn’t spotted you yet. You usually parked in a different spot every day, so it wasn’t like they knew that you were there, but it was still risky. They were less than ten feet away, and if they were to look up they would most definitely see you.

“What are they doing?” JJ asked quietly, and you batted his peering head back down.

“Shh!” You hissed back. You then placed your hands on the steering wheel, and in less than three seconds your knuckles had gone white. You knew that leaving was the best option, but you had JJ Maybank in your car. He was a problem to Topper, he was a problem to Rafe, and he had just become a problem to you too. You couldn’t really kick him out though, because the chances of Topper seeing him were high. Your best option was to just drive away; pretend like you hadn’t seen Topper and that you were just on your way home. You could drop JJ off somewhere that no one would see him, right? Right. It would be fine.

“Okay,” you breathed, glancing down at JJ. “I’m going to drive away.”

“It’s about fucking time,” JJ muttered, and you gave him a look before you started the car, keeping your eyes on Topper and Rafe. They still hadn’t noticed you, and it seemed like a miracle. The only thing separating your car and them was the sidewalk, and that wasn’t much space at all.

“Just keep down,” you said, and then you checked over your shoulder before reversing quickly. You saw as Topper looked over Rafe’s shoulder, and his face lit up with recognition.

“Y/N!” You saw him call, but you pretended not to. Instead you shifted your eyes to the road and cranked up your music. It was some 80’s song that you recognized from your dad’s playlists.

“Are we clear?”

“Just stay down,” you mumbled, your fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel. You just had to make it far enough from the school. Just a couple blocks. You could find some random street to drop him off at. It would be totally fine! Totally.

“Jesus Christ Y/N,” JJ mumbled, and you glanced down at him, feeling your stomach twist at his words. He said your name with a slight growl, and it caught you off guard. “Can I get up now?”

You glanced around the road that you were on and then nodded at him, deciding that it was safe enough.

“Just don’t make a scene,” you whispered as he pulled himself up onto the seat. JJ looked over at you, and then all of a sudden he burst out into laughter, causing your eyes to dart at him with panic.

“What?” You asked hurriedly. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re kinda uptight, aren’t you?” He joked, and your lips drew into a firm line as you looked back at the road.

“I am not,” you snapped back. “I’m just cautious, that’s all.”

“What’s there to be cautious about?” JJ laughed, and then he slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out a thin blunt. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“What are you doing?” You gasped, one hand pulling away from the wheel to try and smack the joint out of his hands. He responded by snickering at you; placing the blunt between his lips and lighting it up.

“You can’t do that in here!” You whisper-shouted, your eyes darting between him and the road. “It’ll stink the car up!”

“Relax,” JJ whispered, taking a long drag. He then rolled the window down just enough to blow the smoke out. “See? It’s okay.”

“You can’t smoke in my car JJ,” you said firmly, your knuckles white against the black leather of the wheel. “Put it out.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, and then he turned to you. “I think you should take a hit.”

You looked at him like he was insane. “Wh- no way. I’m just focussed on getting you home before Topper beats the shit out of both of us. Now, where do you live?”

Out of the corner of your eye you swore that you saw JJ tense up, but you couldn’t really be sure, because it was gone just as quickly as it had happened.

“Why don’t you take me back to your place?” He asked, running a hand lazily through his blonde hair. “I’m sure your dad would love to have me around.”

“My dad?” You narrowed your eyes at the road ahead of you. “You know my dad?”

“Oh sure,” JJ replied flatly. “I know everyone.”

“Helpful,” you answered sarcastically. “I’m serious, where do you live?”

“Uh, right here,” JJ said, pointing to a red and blue house to your right. You slammed on the breaks, nearly rocking JJ through the windshield.

“Fuck!” You cursed, giving him a short look. “Maybe a little more warning next time?”

“I would’ve given you some if it was actually my place,” JJ answered, dropping his head to the side. “But sweetheart, it isn’t.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“You sonofabitch,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at your lips. JJ seemed to notice, and he smirked to himself, taking another drag on the blunt. “That wasn’t funny JJ,” you continued, starting the car down the street once more.

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not!” You defended, but a giggle escaped your lips. He grinned smugly back at you, then put out the blunt. His fingers then began to tap along the window, and you wondered what exactly he was up to. “Did you actually go to school today?” You asked him.

“Nope,” he replied cheerily. “Absolutely did not.”

“JJ!”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck you!” You snorted, rolling your eyes lightly. “So how’d you managed to be there exactly as I was about to drive away, hm?”

“I waited,” he answered, turning back to look at you. “I knew you’d be driving some fucking fancy car.”

You gave him a look. “Just because I have a ‘fancy’ car doesn’t-“

“I never said it was bad.” JJ held up his hands. “I was just pointing it out.”

“Whatever,” you muttered. “Why’d you want to find me?”

“I already told you sweetheart. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“There’s another reason,” you urged. “I know it.”

“There is not.”

“There is. I don’t care though. All I care about is getting you home.”

JJ was silent for a bit, and you were just about to repeat your statement when he spoke up. “Why are you with Topper?” He asked, and the question caught you off guard.

You realized in that moment that you had no idea where you were driving to. Generally in the direction of your place, so you assumed it was further away from JJ’s. You thought about turning around, but you didn’t even know where to go, so you just kept driving.

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“It’s not a complicated question.” JJ shrugged, then perked a brow at you. He had incredibly blue eyes, you noticed that just then.

“You want to know what I see in him?”

“That’s right sweetheart.”

“Why does it matter? You really think I’m going to tell you?” You scoffed out a laugh, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he said flatly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You weren’t really sure how to reply to that. You just cleared your throat, fingers tapping against the wheel. You were nearing your neighbourhood.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, shrugging at him, but also to yourself. “He always flattered me I guess. Like complimented me all the time and bought me little gifts and took me on nice dates. He was really sweet back then.”

“And not anymore?” JJ asked, his brow still raised at you. You glanced between him and the road, and then you sighed. You pulled your car up beside the large hedge in your front yard, shielding you from the view of the house. It wasn’t that you didn’t want your parents to see, but you just didn’t want to see them at that moment.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “He was just different.”

“That wasn’t that long ago Y/N,” JJ said, and you just stared at him blankly. He had no idea what you were feeling, but realistically neither did you anymore. It was always confusing with Topper; always a mystery.

“I know that,” you sighed, your hands slipping from the wheel and falling to your lap. “I don’t know why I said that, it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

JJ laughed. “I’m fucking nosy. Get used to it.” He then reached over and patted your shoulder lightly, which you found an odd yet comforting gesture.

“Get used to it?” You asked, frowning at him slightly. Instead of him giving you some kind of explanation though, he just popped open his door, slipping outside. His boots hit the road with a smack, and you frowned harder at him.

“Maybe it would be nice to have a real man in your life, huh sweetheart?” JJ teased, giving you a quick wink, and then just like that he was gone.

“Where are you going?” You called back out to JJ. You climbed out of your car, hesitantly hovering behind the open door. You knew it was risky to be seen with him. Kelce lived just a bit down the street.

“What does it look like?” JJ answered, spinning around on his heel to hold up his arms and give you a funny look. “You think I live ‘round here?”

“Well I-“

“At least I know where you live now,” he cut you off, shrugging.

“JJ-”

“You surf?” He cut you off again, and this time you frowned at him.

“What?”

“Do you surf? Come on Y/N, it’s not a complicated question.”

You peered at him, then slowly shook your head. “I tried once but…”

“You have a board?”

“I… I might be able to dig up my old one.” Your brows drew together. “Why?”

“Meet me outside your place after school tomorrow. A bit up the beach towards the cove, okay?” “The… the cove?” You questioned, and JJ just smirked at you.

“If you’re willing to trust me then I’ll see you later, alright sweetheart?”

Taglist: @tangledinsparkles @ponyboys-sunsets @heliopvth @dontjinx-it @jolomez @queen1054 @k-n-e

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #yougetwhatyougetseries #bluebirdsbluebellsfic

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled.

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?”

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’.

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!”

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him.

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means.

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink.

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?”

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something.

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted.

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was.

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying.

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that?

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch.

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal.

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil.

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable.

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation.

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor.

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time).

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other.

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?”

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands.

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting.

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

“Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim.

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently.

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want.

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary.

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke.

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.”

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss.

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better.

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off.

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch.

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?”

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open.

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl.

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?”

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.”

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially.

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it.

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room.

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation.

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

194 notes · View notes

maandags · 4 years

Note

Requests are open!!! *does an excited hoppy dance* oh my goodness the excitement. May I suggest a) something with Matt Holt, perhaps in an au with some sort of power (like a demigod or witch or ATLA au, etc.) or b) something for HTTYD with no pairing and plenty of dragon presence! Bonding/interacting with dragons, etc. Thankyouthankyouthankyou you are such an amazingly skilled author and making requests like this is a very special privilege. Thank you for sharing your writing :)

it’s Capture the Flag day at Camp Halfblood, and nobody lets you forget it.

of course, the nervous jitters get to you, as well. you’re not immune, even though you’ve never been a particular lover of the game. but it’s Camp tradition, and Camp Halfblood is your home, so you’ll fuck up your friends (and not-so-friends) every once in a while to keep things interesting. sure.

it’s Hephaestus, Demeter, Ares, Apollo -- that’s you -- against Athena, Aphrodite, Hermes, and Dionysus. you’re not worried about Dionysus’ kids -- their heart isn’t in the game, and it’s easy to tell. Athena and Hermes are the ones who will pose an actual problem, you suspect.

as you get ready, fingers making quick work of the straps on your breastplate, swinging your quiver over your shoulder (holding blunt-tipped arrows -- so they’ll still hurt like a bitch, but won’t do serious damage); strapping on your bracer, then pulling on your leather glove. you reach for your helmet, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at the red plume sticking out of it. it’s tradition, Y/N.

“you think you’re gonna win today, L/N?”

you squint up at the boy decked out in full Capture the Flag regalia, a sword at his side and a knife strapped to his thigh, brown hair mussed and glasses slightly askew on his nose. “half your team aren’t fighters, Matt. not like you and I am.” you lean back, cross your arms. “let’s just say I’m not disliking my chances, here.”

Matt shakes his head with a grin. “we’re going to crush you.”

“HOLT!” both of you whip around to the source of the voice -- it belongs to a tall Hermes kid, one of the only campers older than Matt and you, standing with his hands on his hips, glaring intensely at his teammate. “stop fraternizing with the enemy!”

Matt snickers, then bows. “well. I guess duty calls. I’ll see you after we win the game.”

“you’re so full of shit.”

“I love you, too.”

as he turns, you shout after him, “I’ve got an arrow with your name on it, Holt!”

the team captains convene -- Matt’s sister Pidge, on one side, and an Ares kid named Tyler on yours. the flags are hidden, everyone moves to their side of the creek. as you walk, Tyler and Keith, a Hephaestus kid, go through the battle plan one more time. you’ve heard it countless times before, so you listen with one ear.

Tyler points to you. “Y/N, up in the trees. slow ‘em down as much as you can.”

“always, boss.”

“don’t get distracted by brown-haired sons of Athena,” Keith quips with a grin.

without missing a beat, you reply, “as long as you don’t get distracted by blue-eyed sons of Aphrodite, fuckwad.” Keith goes red and shoves his middle finger in your face, so you respond in kind.

“guys,” Tyler says, sounding both annoyed and tired and resigned, “focus, please.”

some obscene gestures and mouthed insults later, you’re stationed up in your tree, standing on a sturdy branch, bow at the ready, an arrow nocked. (special arrows. Keith helped out with this; you’ve got some stinkbombs, some explosive arrows, some sticky ones... they’re nasty. you can’t wait to use them.) you’ve tied yourself to the tree by your waist, having made the mistake of not doing so in the past and paying the price with bruises and cuts.

the horn sounds. the game’s begun.

border duty isn’t the most exciting part of the game. if you were a close-range fighter, you would have killed to be in the scouting group, or the flag-capturing group. but you’re not, so a spot up in the trees it is.

after a couple minutes, you spot the group of campers charged with capturing the actual flag leap over the creek like cheetahs, splitting up into two groups immediately after crossing over into the other side. despite everything, your heart rate speeds up, just a bit. your grip on the nocked arrow tightens.

then, out of the depths of the forest in front of you, three campers race towards your side of the creek. trying to go fast, while also being quiet. heh. not if you have anything to say about it.

you bring your bow up to your face and aim, loosing it almost immediately. elegantly. effortlessly, as Matt would say. it sinks into the earth in front of the nearest camper with a dull thud, and a split second later it explodes, sending dirt and loose branches and leaves everywhere.

before the three campers can do anything to react, you’ve let loose another arrow. this one, when it explodes, poofs out a cloud of thick red smoke, which rises high above the treetops. could just as well have been a flare. stealth mission? not so much.

but you’ve given yourself away, now. not that it matters much, now. worth it.

“FUCK YOU, Y/N!” that’s Lance. son of Aphrodite, one of the few who is actually invested in the game. (a little too invested, in your opinion.)

you blow him a kiss, send him a wave. “I love you, too!”

Lance yanks his fellow campers up, shakes his fist up at you. “you play dirty!”

“I’ve been here for eleven years, Lance. I deserve to play a little dirty.”

at that, Lance laughs. you narrow your eyes. “eleven years, huh?” he grins. “still can’t recognise a simple distraction?”

“what are you –” you cut yourself off, cursing, whirling around, only just managing to spot a head of brown hair zipping through the trees.

before you realise you’re doing it, you’ve already drawn another arrow. this time, as you pull it back, you breathe out, relaxing, concentrating on the tiny shifts of movement you can still see through the trees. behind you, Lance is still shouting – “he’s gone, Y/N, we’ve outsmarted you, just admit it, you’re gonna lose –” but you drown him out.

you let the arrow fly, and a whole second later there’s the unmistakable “augh!” of someone who just ate shit. (tangling arrow: its impact triggers the uncoiling of a spool of iron thread, hopelessly tangling the target’s legs.)

you throw Lance a glance over your shoulder. he throws up his hand. “for the GODS’ SAKES, Y/N.”

“do not,” you say, lips curling into a grin when you spot your group of flag-catchers, three strong, approaching from the other side of the river, the silver Athena banner rippling between them, “underestimate a child of Apollo.”

Keith and Tyler are being chased by a growing group of blue-plumed campers, but you know it’s no use; those two are fast bastards. for the fun of it, you send another exploding arrow towards the pursuers’ ankles. the dull pop! and consequent yelps make you grin.

Keith takes a final leap over the creek and skids to a halt on the other side. the banner shifts in his hand, from silver to blood-red.

he holds it above his head, and you let out a loud whoop before sticking two fingers in your mouth and letting out an insanely loud, piercing whistle.

the game is over. you’ve won.

you descend from your tree, dropping the last five feet to the ground, shaking your head at the mob of campers who’ve hoisted Keith and Tyler upon their shoulders and are jumping up and down. you cross your arms.

“fucking eh. I really thought we had you this time.”

an arm drapes itself around your shoulders, and you grin, shooting a glance up at your boyfriend. “I told you I had an arrow with your name on it.”

“you did. I’ll outrun you eventually.” Matt dips down, presses a kiss to your cheek.

“pfft. good luck with that. you almost fooled me this time, though,” you add, poking his side. “almost.” you look down at his red-streaked legs. his knees are also scraped and slightly bloody, but his eyes are twinkling with mirth. “sorry about your ankles.”

he sighs. “yeah. I think I’ll need someone to carry me back to camp.”

you shake your head again with a chuckle, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re so full of shit.”

#gaaaaa #THANK U ANON U R THE SWEETEST!!!!#SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I HOPE U ARE STILL HERE AND WILL READ THIS!! LMK IF U DO!#request #vld request #matt holt x reader

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oratonom · 3 years

Text

The Other Side - Swapped!Six Songfic

This is actually a Christmas gift for someone!!! @percy-the-penguin gave me the idea and @arithebroadwayaddict drew the picture that sparked the idea! So this a Christmas gift for the both of them!

Tws: arson

Italics = both

Swapped = last name

——————————

Boleyn wanted to be anywhere else.

She wanted to be with Lady Aragon more specifically. The golden queen herself was across the room, talking to both of their counterparts, Catalina and Anne.

Boleyn sighed wistfully as she stared at Aragon and the locked hands of their counterparts. Aragon herself was in a beautiful gold dress that made Boleyn blush.

Boleyn herself was in a green suit and black pants, complete with a green tie and her familiar glasses.

They were dressed this well for the party they were currently attending. All six original queens had been invited and given plus ones, allowing them to bring the swapped queens as well.

Boleyn was about to try and make her way over when an elbow pressed into her side, making her flinch and turn to the intruder with a glare.

That’s right… Boleyn was over here to keep an eye on Seymour. She couldn’t go over to Aragon in the first place.

“Your gay is showing.” Seymour gave her a smirk. The blond queen with a black stripe of hair was dressed in a white button up with a black bow tie and pants along with suspenders. Her familiar ‘S’ charmed choker sat on her neck, covering a familiar scar.

Boleyn rolled her eyes, adjusting her glasses. “Like you’re any better with Parr… cretin.”

Seymour spluttered for a moment before giving her a smirk. “Yeah, whatever. You’re my babysitter or whatever, right? I’m going to the balcony.”

Boleyn grumbled and gave one more longing look to Aragon before trailing after Seymour, arms crossed.

The balcony was bare of people. And it was only when they stepped out that Boleyn realized that Seymour was holding a large pile of napkins, which she promptly placed on the ground on the center of the balcony.

“Seymour…” Boleyn said warningly when the beheaded queen pulled out a lighter.

Seymour groaned, flicking her signature lighter. “Come on, Bo-loser! I need to relax a bit!”

“You can do that without arson.” Boleyn grumbled, eyes narrowed.

Seymour studied her for a moment. “Don’t you ever wanna go apeshit miss uptight? Your counterpart does!”

Boleyn sighed. “I’ve told you before, nuisance. We are not our counterparts, in personality at any rate. It’s all—!”

Seymour waved her off. “Timeline bullshit, yeah I know. Other me is basically their fucking mom. Just let me light this shit up!”

“No.”

A beat of music started from inside and Seymour grinned widely, taking a step towards Boleyn. The beat paused for a moment. Seymour flicked her lighter, followed by Boleyn pushing her glasses up.

“Right here, right now. I put the offer out!” Seymour began to sing, causing Boleyn to roll her eyes.

“I don’t want to chase you down! I know you see it.” Seymour gave a wicked grin as she placed a hand on Boleyn’s shoulder. It was quickly brushed off.

Seymour didn’t seem bothered. “You run with me, and I can cut you free!” She grabbed a napkin, lighting the edge on fire.

Only to drop it and stomp it out under Boleyn’s stone gaze. “Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in!”

Seymour reached up quickly to tug Boleyn’s tie from it’s neat, tucked position. “So trade that typical, for something colorful!” Boleyn hissed and quickly moved to fix it.

Seymour didn’t seem to notice Boleyn’s gaze as she snapped one of her suspenders and flicked the lighter again. “And if it’s crazy then live a little crazy!”

Seymour stepped back, spreading her arms. “You can play it sensible, queen of conventional…” She flicked the lighter wide, letting the flame shine. “Or you can risk it all and see!”

Seymour was quickly moving to set the napkins on fire and Boleyn lunged for her. “Don’t you wanna get away from the same old, part you gotta play?!”

“Cause I’ve got what you need, so come with me and take the ride, it’ll take you to the other side!” Seymour laughed between her singing as she kept back, pulling the lighter away from Boleyn.

“Cause you can do like you do, or you can do like me!” Seymour danced away from Boleyn.

“Stay in the cage or you’ll finally take the key!” She closed her eyes and held the lighter up into the air.

“Oh, damn!” Seymour glared as Anne finally took the lighter from her hand. “Suddenly you’re free to fly! It’ll take you to the other side!”

Boleyn snorted, holding the lighter away from Seymour. Other side? A world of burning items to escape pain? She didn’t need that. (She would forever deny how appealing the idea felt.)

“Okay, my friend… you wanna cut me in?” Boleyn sang in a huff. Seymour growled, trying to take the lighter back again.

Boleyn simply pulled it to her chest, giving Seymour a glare. “Well I hate to tell you but it just won’t happen.”

Boleyn turned away from her, she counted her steps, stopping at six and not turning back to meet Seymour’s eyes. “So thanks, but no. I think I’m good to go, I quite enjoy the life you say I’m trapped in!”

She spun on heel now to stare Seymour in the eye. “Now, I don’t hate you and that whole show we do. We’re onto something, really it’s something!” Seymour burst out a mocking laugh at the lines.

Boleyn flicked the lighter, staring at the flame for a long moment. “But I like to think I’m sane, not burning away my pain.”

Boleyn tilted her head, giving Seymour a challenging glare. “I’ll have to leave that up to you!”

Boleyn walked up to Seymour, pointing a finger at her chest. “Don’t you know that I’m okay? With this uptown part I get to play!” Seymour didn’t back down.

Boleyn let out a bitter laugh, gaze turning to the sky as a tear fell down her cheek. “Because I’ve got what I need and I don’t want to take the ride! I don’t need to see the other side!”

“So go and do like you do, I’m good to do like me!” Boleyn dropped the lighter back into Seymour’s hand, earning her a raised eyebrow.

“Ain’t in a cage, so I don’t need to take some key!” Boleyn walked back to the doors leading inside, giving Seymour a wave over her shoulder.

“Oh, damn! Can’t you see I’m doing fine?!” Boleyn couldn’t help but practically snarl as she reached forward to rest her hands on the door handle. “I don’t need to see your other side…”

Seymour huffed, keeping her gaze on Boleyn’s back as the music slowed. “Now is this really how you’d like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery… books and your brain?”

Boleyn let out a bitter laugh at that. “If I got mixed up with you, I’d be the talk of the house. Disgraced and irrational, another one of you clowns!”

Seymour smirked knowingly. “But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little… just let me give you the freedom to dream and it’ll wake you up and cure your aching.” Seymour noticed Boleyn glancing back over her shoulder and flicked the lighter open, letting the little flame dance to life. “Take your walls and start ‘em breaking! Now… that’s a deal that seems worth taking…” Seymour shrugged, half turning back to the pile of napkins. “But I guess I’ll leave that up to you…”

Boleyn turned around fully, giving Seymour a calculating stare as she adjusted her glasses. “Well it’s intriguing… but to do this they could call me crazy. So what would I get out of your fire making?”

Seymour’s grin widened. Boleyn was considering this? “Fair enough, you wouldn’t want to be one of us cretins! You could get excitement, we can strike a fuse and make it happen!”

“I wasn’t born this morning! Danger is just waiting to happen!”

“Then why not just go ahead and walk inside?” Seymour asked challengingly. “You want some happiness, don’t deny!”

“Craziness!”

“I’d say control!”

“Insane!”

“Maybe jail…”

“Escape.” Both of them froze, staring at each other for a long moment as the music died off before coming back.

Seymour grinned and Boleyn let out a hum as she walked away from the door, curiosity in her eyes.

Both of them began to sing together as Seymour held out the lighter and napkin. Boleyn took them and set the napkin on fire quickly as the music burst to life again.

“Don’t you wanna get away to a whole new part you’re gonna play!” Boleyn threw the napkin onto the rest and Seymour grinned widely in anticipation.

“Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride!” Seymour sang out, throwing one arm around Boleyn and gesturing the other to the fire they had made.

“To the other side!” Boleyn stared at the fire, captivated as the other napkins quickly caught ablaze.

“So if you do like I do, so if you do like me!” Seymour chuckled at the stare on Boleyn’s face.

“Forget the cage, because we know how to make the key!” Both sang together. Realization sparked in Boleyn’s eyes and she was swiftly unbuttoning and shrugging her blazer off.

“Oh, damn!” Seymour took the offered blazer eagerly. “Suddenly we’re free to fly!”

“We’re going to the other side!” The blazer was thrown in the fire, only making it grow bigger.

“So if you do like I do!” No one inside seemed to notice the fire burning bright out on the balcony.

“To the other side!”

“So if you do like me!”

“We’re going to the other side!”

“Cause if we do we’re going to the other side!”

“We’re going to the other side!” Both of them finished as the music came to an abrupt stop. They watched the fire that crackled in front of them, enthralled.

Seymour spoke after a long moment. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

Boleyn let out a deep breath. “Yes… it feels…” she trailed off.

Seymour smirked knowingly. “Like you’re in control? Like you're more powerful than he ever was?”

“... yes.”

They continued to stare long after it burned out...

#six the musical #swapped six au #tw: arson #swapped!anne #swapped!jane

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choco-glow · 3 years

Text

Mirjahaal

Quiet statistics in red, cold, unfeeling, and climbing, ticked upwards as the clock steadily counted away the minutes, the hours spent sitting here watching the destruction on the holos before her. Senya Tirall, once Knight-Captain of Zakuul, took a long drink of the tihaar in her hand, and swallowed both the burn of the alcohol and the tears she’d been shedding all day, lost in her grief as she watched Vaylin’s path of destruction reach a crescendo. Arcann had, thankfully, left her alone after his first check in when she’d woken up from the burst of power that had rattled the whole galaxy…as had several others.

Hylo had brought her something to eat, at least, and Senya had thanked her blindly, tears hot on her cheeks, and it was Gault who’d brought her the tihaar, quietly and without judgement, much to her relief…but the next person to enter her small room was a surprise, even to Senya. She studied the redhead before her, feeling both unkempt and yet, uncaring at the sight of Mandalore, her helmet on her hip, while Senya was dressed down in an old tunic and her leggings, long hair unwound in soft waves and hanging heavy over one shoulder. Waves Vaylin inherited…oh my daughter…

“…I see where Gault got the good stuff then; I’ll forgive him for stealing it off me this one time.” Senya flushed at that, anger and shame curling in her gut, but Shae simply raised a hand, shaking her head. For all that the woman was a decade older than her, and half a head shorter, she certainly had the presence of a Commander, even more than she herself had. With that, Senya quieted, settling back unsteadily on her small sofa…and Shae set her helmet down, popping off her armor piece by piece until she was down to her soft leatheris gear underneath. The redhead, her blue eyes crinkled with a faint frown, settled on the other end of the sofa and with a flick of the remote, turned off Holonet.

“Mandalore, wait—”

“Shae.” Senya paused, her fear and anger washed away in sudden confusion, and Shae smiled. “Call me Shae. Mandalore is for the battlefield; my name is for my friends.” Senya blinked, feeling a flush touch her cheeks again…but this time for a different reason. Friends…? She could count the number of friends she’d had on one hand, especially now. Usually, it was simply Lana, and occasionally Theron made friendly overtures…but she knew she was too old for their company, and frankly, there was an Alliance to run. But…Shae didn’t make these gestures without reason, the sober, logical part of her brain reminded her, and Senya swallowed the lump in her throat.

“…Shae…why…please, turn it back on.”

“So you can drink yourself to death watching the galaxy burn? Go insane staring at those numbers? No.” Shae shifted, and handed her a flask; Senya took it, but paused, and Shae chuckled. “Go ahead, that’s safe to drink. It’s known as a kolto-banger or koltoshot, we use ‘em to sober up every time. They aren’t the greatest tasting, but they’re easy on the body and you’ll feel better for it. Not to mention it staves off hangovers better’n anything else we’ve tried.”

“…Well, I suppose the Clans would know what works best.” Shae grinned at that, and Senya swallowed the liquid down, grimacing at both the taste and the texture.

“Like fish slime and toothpaste, ain’t it?”

“Ugh, worse, somehow…but you’re right, I feel better…and the aftertaste isn’t nearly as bad.”

“No, it’s something somesuch to do with the stomach acid and other crap I never bothered to learn about; Oggurobb could tell you, but who’d wanna listen that long? Drink some water too with it, you’ll feel better.” Senya obeyed, grateful suddenly for Shae calling the shots; that no-nonsense voice was…calming in a way that Senya hadn’t appreciated much until now. Shae’s smile was softer now, but she seemed to settle into the sofa more, clearly here for the long-haul, and with the Holonet staying off…Senya sighed a little.

“…You want me to talk about this, don’t you…”

“As one mother to another…yes. I do. I can’t stop you from beating yourself up about the past, no, but I can listen to you work through it. I’ve…made my fair sure of mistakes. I’ve buried two children of my body, dozens more of my soul.”

“…you went through all that alone?” Senya knew she sounded horrified, heartbroken for the Mandalorian, and Shae shook her head, smile growing both fond and sad at the same time.

“Aaray…or'trikar…Pain, grief, they have a way of fading with both time and healing, though the scars never fully disappear. But I had friends, I had Clan, and that was…that helped. Clan Ordo helped me bury my daughters…Clan Fett helped me remember them. Mandalore spoke with me for days on end, guiding me through the morass with a care that so many never would have known in him. And when the night is darkest, I sing the songs of my children and my people, I play the drum, I remember. And then I rest, for the morning to come.” She paused, her voice trailing off…and Senya watched her turn to meet her own eyes again, Shae’s as full of pain as her own heart.

“How in the name of your gods have you been able to endure this alone, Senya?” She froze like a thranta in fear…and felt her already cracked façade shatter into a million pieces. A sob tore through her throat as the tears burst the dam once more, and Shae was across the cushions in a heartbeat, cradling Senya to her chest and wrapping strong arms about her, hoarse voice soft with a kindness that Senya could only distantly hear. “Oh mesh’la, you haven’t…you haven’t…cry it out…”

Shae held her without complaint for what felt like days, weeks, years…Losing Thexan, losing Valkorion, losing Vaylin so many times…losing her Knights, the children she knew she would lose but loving them all the same…losing Arcann, and working so hard to bring him back. She’d welcomed her death then, hoped, perhaps, that it might finally end…But she’d lived. She’d lived and endured, bolstered by the Commander’s kind heart and Oggurobb’s technological wonders…Senya sobbed all of this out, her calm shell utterly crushed into dust beneath her as Shae let her babble and wail, murmuring soft things in both Mando’a and Basic, and a dozen other languages that Senya only half-knew.

And yet…it was exactly what she’d needed.

Finally, finally, the sobs began to abate, the tears drying up because she was frightfully thirsty, her nose a red and snotty mess…and Shae, ever the calm soul, offered her a glass of water, and a handkerchief to blow her nose with. There was no judgement in those eyes, only gentle understanding, and despite her instincts…Senya leaned into the Mandalorian without a second thought, closing her eyes for a long moment to ease the burning. A warm blanket, soft, a gift from the Commander when the woman had learned that Senya had come to Odessen with nothing but the armor on her back, was draped around her, and Senya breathed in the scent of the detergent, grateful that whoever was cleaning things kept it a nice, soft scent.

“…thank you…” Her voice was barely a whisper, and Shae only tucked her closer, somehow wrapping around her for all that Senya was the taller, larger woman.

“Ba'gedet'ye. I hoped you’d have that while I was still here…I hoped that my visit would help a little. Arcann was worried about you anyway, but I’d intended to stop by and see you.” Senya felt her lips curve up, just a little, and she turned to look up at Shae, her eyes still red and sore, but faintly amused now as Shae shot her a crooked grin.

“…This wouldn’t have anything to do with my admission up in the cantina that night that I wish I’d married Torch rather than the Emperor…”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. I…frankly, Senya, you’re one of the few friends I’ve had in years that aren’t Clan…and Clan can be complicated. You…aren’t. You’re strong, so strong that it boggles my mind that you’ve endured so much with absolutely nothing more than steel resolve and the will to fight. And I grieve with you, because losing a child to death is terrible…but losing one to madness, that is true hell. I’m grateful that my adi, my daughters, they had quick deaths at the hands of their opponents; they didn’t suffer.

“Vaylin…I’m not in the least bit Force sensitive, and I can feel the pain and rage boiling off that kid. And I will do all I can to put an end to this…but I don’t want to lose you to it too. I…don’t want to lose you at all, Senya.” Shae paused at that, easing away, looking…well, worried, and Senya felt her cheeks flush again in a whole different feeling…one that she remembered all too well. But unlike Valkorion…Shae wouldn’t leave her like that. Wouldn’t just…fall quiet one day and ignore her pleas. Would not forget her... Senya gazed down at her hands, at how steady they were…and studied her heart too, closing her eyes and stilling her senses, searching both the Force and her own soul for the answer…

And on swift wings, it came.

“You won’t lose me.” She murmured, and Shae glanced back, eyes wide…and Senya took a chance, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek. “I…would like to try cin vhetin, if you’ll have me.” The look on Shae’s face was all the answer she needed, and they met in a kiss as soft as the one before, joy sparking between them as they wrapped around one another again.

“Welcome home, riduur…welcome home…now it’s time for mirjahaal, healing…No rush, no fuss, we take all the time we need. HK’ll shoot anyone who interrupts us.” Shae murmured, and Senya felt a smile tug at her lips, a chuckle sounding as the redhead laid back on the sofa, letting her snuggle into her love’s chest. She’d been aloft so long, an albatross lost among the stars…with Shae, she had found her nest…and with the Commander, a new purpose…and then she froze.

“…Arcann…”

“Kid’s fine, told me not to break your heart or he’d break my face. Sweet kid, glad you brought him back.” She blinked, and burst into weak laughter, and Shae joined her, the two of them curling back together as they chortled. “In all honesty, he’s fine with this.”

“Remind me to figure out a way to thank him?”

“Anything for you, riduur.”

#swtor #Shae/Senya #Start of the momacule #lesbian space moms #shae vizla #senya tirall #arcann #gault #Hylo #HK-55 #Vaylin #Thexan #Valkorion #loss and grief #healing

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skelanonymous · 3 years

Text

DustCherry ?

Odd idea I’ll never fully flesh out. Have a cohesive scene. Only set up, we’re in an AU where Red is both the eldest prince of Fellsword kingdom under Gaster and Forge, the blacksmith who runs a criminal bar and supplies weapons for the rebellion. Dust is Dust kinda.

Words: 1.7k

“Heya Forgey.” Dust winked from behind the helmet. Red rolled his eyes and finished cleaning the glasses from the bar.

“Whatcha need Dust? You ran out of pieces to request. Already made all the armor you could need, all three of your weapons. “Red slid the glasses into the cabinet. “I doubt you’d greet me before killing me.”

“I’d totally greet you before killing you. I consider us friends.” Dust’s pointy grin, teasingly flipping a dagger in one hand. “But no, I don’t want to kill you. Quite the opposite really.” He snaked out a purple tongue to lick along the dagger’s edge. Red’s soul pounded in his chest, Dust’s eyes going half lidded, all sultry and wanton.

“Are you propositioning me?” Red face flushed. Dust only chuckled at his incomprehension.

“That was the idea.” His eyes shifted from the purple to the more familiar dualtone. “I wanted to have a little fun and you’re the only handsome friend I have.” Red lifted an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you had many friends.” Red kept cleaning off the bar counter. “Thought assassins didn’t need ‘em.” Dust shrugged.

“Honestly, you’re the only I have as Dust. The rest are from my day job, and those don’t intermingle.” Dust leaned back, casually draping himself over a chair. “It does make you the most handsome by default.” He stuck out his tongue.

“How the fuck do you have a day job? I can’t imagine what you’d be like outside of this.” Dust seemed so well suited for assassin work. Picturing him baling hay, running a shop, baking? Dust laughed.

“I’m capable of behaving. Let me show you.” Suddenly leaned over the counter into Red’s space, Dust trailed a finger under Red’s jaw. Red grabbed his arm, but didn’t wrench it away.

“I’m guessing this comes with conditions. Nothing with you is ever that easy.” Dust licked his teeth at Red’s iron grasp.

“Either I keep the helmet on, or you agree to a temporary blindness spell. Can’t have you seeing my face.” He climbed over the counter, never pulling his arm free. He made a delightful little sigh when Red wrapped the other arm around his back. “I don’t mind you being in charge. I’m flexible.”

“Uh-huh. You just get to see mine then.” Red glared at the horny assassin through the face guard.

“Forgey, I’ve known who you were since Day 1.” He hooked a leg around Red’s waist. “Prince Red Fellsword helping rebels and causing chaos against his father. It doesn’t matter to me. I only care how good you are with your hands.” His free hand flipped up the face shield.

“Dust! Pe-”

“Relax, there’s no one for a mile in any direction. Don’t forget who I am.” He dragged a sharp finger down his throat. “It wouldn’t be wise.”

Red huffed before releasing Dust completely. The assassin waited patiently in his space, still hooked tightly to his pelvis. He weighed his options carefully. This wasn’t a smart thing to do, not by a longshot, not with the most vicious murderer in all the kingdoms. But his soul pulsed at the thought of fucking someone that powerful.

“You get how fucking insane this is, right?” Red glared at the shorter assassin. His smile only got wider, toothier.

“Completely.” Red pinched his nasal ridge, then pulled Dust’s other leg up to fully seat their pelvises together. He snapped his fingers and they landed on Red’s bed down the hall.

“Fuck it, I guess I’m insane.” He removed the armor covering Dust with ease. The belts slipped off, plates clanging to the ground. Dust’s eyes got wider and hungrier. “Blind me whenever.”

“Once I’m down to the helmet.” Dust pulled at Red’s shirt, yanking it over his head and scraping his fingers down the ribs. Red pushed Dust’s tank up to his neck, hands wandering over his chest.

“Didn’t know you were a skeleton like me.” He tended to the bones with practiced ease. He knew how to make Dust scream if he had bones like his. He hadn’t worked the pants fully off, but did squeeze right at the base of Dust’s tailbone. Then after a cursory lick across the collarbone, he bit down. Hard.

“Oh fuuuuuuck! Mark me up Forge.” Dust’s tongue lolled out of his helmet. He raised a hand and snapped. Red’s eyesight blinked out.

There was the sound of metal ringing, and then a tongue in his mouth.

Dust devoured his mouth hungrily. The scent and taste of blood had him frenzied, clinging to Red’s body. When he broke away, Dust was suddenly by his ear.

“Can I taste your blood?” Dust’s body rumbled with a groan. “Your mouth tasted so good with mine in it.” Red felt for and then bit down on Dust’s opposite shoulder. Red made sure to really get a mouthful, licking up the excess before trailing his hand to the back of Dust’s skull to kiss him again. Dust’s entire body shook with desire.

“One bite Dust. Make it count.” Red felt Dust’s hands scrambling to remove both of their pants. He tried to help, but couldn’t do much about Dust’s clothes while blind. Then the shock of a wet tongue right on his pelvis. Dust licked upwards, attempting to force the shape.

“Give me something to suck on.” Red’s body summoned the cock on reflex. Dust lavished attention onto him before pulling the entire cock into his mouth, taking the entire thing deep into his throat in three short bobs.

“I-ahhhhh- I’m not gunna last if you keep going at it like that.” Red didn’t hear a reply, per se, but he did hear some very enthusiastic hums around his cock. Dust’s tongue wrapped around him, stroking and tightening around the base as the head dipped further and further back into his throat. Red couldn’t see but he did feel the drool dripping out of Dust’s mouth onto his pelvis, could feel him holding onto his hips softly, coaxing him on with light circles, heard the moans increasing in pitch the faster he went. And if he listened in real closely, some very wet fingers playing with an equally wet pussy…

Red came right into Dust’s throat. And judging on the choking sounds and jolting around, he came right on his fingers.

When Dust let the cock out of his mouth, Red smelled something sweet by his face.

“Just getting nice and wet for you. Wan-oooooh…”Red had already stuck his tongue out for a taste. He guided the fingers into his mouth with one hand, and slipped the other right into Dust. He got in three fingers on the first try.

“I’m still sensitive, haaaaaaaaaaah, so cruel of you.” Red could feel Dust writhe against him, around his fingers. His skull laid against his shoulder, mouth open with whining pants, before it turned and bit down with those sharp canines. Red only tensed; he remained silent. Dust suckled at the bite, tightening with each draw of blood. He let go before Red got woozy.

“Reeeeeeeeed.” Dust’s voice took on his bloodlust form. Part of Red was worried. He flexed his fingers still buried deep in his cunt. “AHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Red pulled out his fingers, and gently flipped them over. It took a little feeling around, but he definitely got settled between Dust’s legs. He felt up those long bones, nipping along them, cleaning off his fingers before switching to the other femur. Dust sighed softly when Red finally lined them up.

“I’d kill to see the faces you’ve been making, but I guess I’ll live with just having you.” Red chuckled, pulling the legs up over his shoulders, kissing his shins. He pushed in with a guiding hand. “Oh fuck, you’re still tight?” Red groaned.

“You’re -Mmmmmmm- the only one-,” Dust moaned at the first thrust, still coming down from the blood high, “-whose fucked me.”

“Well you’re not a virgin either.” Red fucked Dust steadily. His pussy was still tight around him, not nearly loose enough to really let go and pound the hell out of Dust without making it uncomfortable. Dust panted and laughed.

“I’m. Usually. The one. Doing the fucking!” Dust whined as Red finally started to speed up, his body relaxing into the hard thrusts, begging for more. Red hadn’t planned the pace, he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

Dust fucked people, he did not let people fuck him. But here he was, letting Red take him. He offered himself without a thought, Red hadn’t even needed to negotiate.

“Then I’ll make you scream.” Red slightly changed angles until Dust’s voice escalated to pitchy moans of pure bliss. He relentlessly pushed them both further and further along, getting to really savor the moment after that first fast orgasm. Dust clawed up towards up, pulling himself off the bed to hit even deeper.

“AHHHHH!” Dust wailed, spasming around Red’s cock until he spilled into him.

They rode out their peaks in peace, finally separating when the sensations of touching overwhelmed them. Red laid back in his bed, fully expecting the absence of another body beside him.

“Don’t think this gets you a discount.” Red joked. He didn’t want to let this into his soul; loving Dust would lead to nothing but heartache.

“Of course not.” Dust chuckled, the subtle ringing of metal as Dust got dressed to go vibrating around the room. “Don’t think this grants you immunity.”

“Never.” Red stretched out his limbs, getting ready to relax. “As long as we understand each other, repeat performance is on the table if you want it.” He heard Dust’s shadow magic swallow his presence, already slinking off to the next target. But not before a whisper by his ear.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He could hear the smirk in it, and with a snap, his eyelights came back to an empty room. He grinned before turning in.

Deep in the shadows, Dust shivered. Red’s magic was still leaking down his thighs, knees shaking. Keep it in mind? More like restrain the impulse to come here every night. He wanted the blacksmith bad before, and the fire in his soul was stoked by the night they shared.

Forge would be his, one way or another.

----

Currently working on a longer non-sexy Errorberry, but hey, making progress.

#Dustcherry #dusttale #underfell #undertail #since this is the tags...#long game would be that Dust and Prince Blue Swapguard are the same person #story time

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mythologyfolklore · 3 years

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Trouble Earth-Born

(A/N: This fic is about the birth of Erikhthonios, one of the legendary kings of Athens. Contains mention of past attempted rape and attempt of indirect murder and insanity)

Athena wasn't quite sure of what to think, as out of nowhere a Protogenos manifested in front of her as a middle-aged woman holding a baby in her arms.

“Venerated Foremother”, she greeted the person in front of her.

“Daughter of Zeus and Metis”, the other returned.

To a mortal she would have seemed like your average chubby matron. But she radiated such raw and incomprehensible power, such cosmic and primeval might, that to a goddess like Athena there was no doubt, who she was.

Gaia, the Earth Mother.

The generous and the terrible.

The nurturing and the destructive.

The mother of the sky, the sea, the mountains, islands and the fair spirits of nature, also of the Titanes, the Hekatonkheires, the Elder Kyklopes … and the monstrous Typhon.

“What gives me the honour?”, Athena questioned the Protogenos.

The dubious honour. That she didn't say.

Gaia held out the baby she had been holding. “This is yours now.”

Athena's bright blue eyes grew to the size of saucers. “I beg your pardon?!”

“Do you remember that little non-consensual almost-tryst you had with the blacksmith god?”

Athena frowned. “As if a woman could forget something like that.”

“And do you remember, how you threw the cloth, which was soiled with his seed, onto the ground?”

“Oh … oh, holy shit, did I accidentally knock you up?! I'm so sorry!”

“I'm Mother Earth”, Gaia pointed out. “Do you have the faintest idea just how many children I have? I mothered half of the Kosmos, Ouranos included! That fucking arsehole”, she added, muttering. “Either way, this happens all the time. I'm used to it and I can't even say, that I mind. However, this baby here has a little of your essence within him. So congratulations, Pallas Athena, head-born daughter of Zeus – you are now a virgin mother.”

And before the goddess could protest, the Protogenos pressed the child into her arms.

Then Gaia sank into the ground and once more became one with … well, herself. Leaving a very flabbergasted Athena holding a godsdamn baby.

“Sooo …”, Athena sighed and regarded the child. It was a boy and he had jet black hair and big brown eyes, just like his father – but despite him being a baby, she could tell he had her aristocratic nose and her high cheekbones. “I guess you are my son now, huh?”

Whelp.

She might have been the goddess of knowledge and good counsel, but she was also a virgin goddess; she had no idea how to do this kind of stuff! This was something for … pretty much any other of the Olympians.

Oh well … she would just have to take responsibility and try to raise this child. After all, it wasn't his fault, that he had been conceived like that and there was no way she would approach the god, who had tried to rape her in his drunk delirium.

Somehow this troubling memory gave her the idea for a suitable name for the earth-born baby.

The baby cooed and stretched out his chubby little arms. Okay, that was cute.

Athena smiled: “Well, I suppose I will have to raise you in secret, so no one can find and tell the world about a virgin goddess having a child.”

And with the child in her arms, she flew away and off to her new city, the one that now bore her name: Athens.

“You want us to take care of this chest, Potnia¹?”, Pandrosos asked.

Athena, who was holding a small chest in her arms, confirmed: “That's right. I want you to take this wooden chest here to the chamber behind my altar and watch over it, until I come back in a few days. You don't have to do much, but always remember this: Do. Not. Open. This. Chest. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Glaukopis²”, the three daughters of Kekrops, king of Athens, replied in unison.

The bright-eyed goddess nodded: “Good. Now I need to tend to my other duties. See you in a few days. And I warn you, if I find out that you disobeyed my order to not look inside this chest, you will suffer a fate worse than death. Keep that in mind. Toodles!”

Then she returned to Olympos, before anyone there would question her absence.

A few days later, Athena was carrying a whole-ass mountain across Attica (how? Goddess strength, that's how!) for the Akropolis, when a crow joined her in flight.

“Oh, hello, Koronis!”, the goddess greeted the bird.

“Hello!”, the crow replied. “I'm sad to say, that I come with bad news.”

Athena stopped short. “What happened?”

“Well, you asked me to keep an eye on the Kekropides, if they would do as you told them, right? They didn't.”

Promptly the goddess dropped the mountain.

“They opened the chest”, she said blankly.

“Yes, but only Aglauros and Herse. Pandrosos doesn't know. I'm so sorry!”, the crow cried, “I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn't listen!”

“It's not your fault, Koronis!”, Athena hissed, suddenly seized by wrath. “Oh, when I get my hands on those little bitches, they're going to get it! As for you, don't tell anyone of what you have seen, do you hear me?”

“My lips- I mean, my beak is sealed.”

“Good.”³

The wrathful goddess teleported herself to her temple in Athens, where she found Herse and Aglauros screaming hysterically on the floor.

With measured steps, Athena approached the chest. In it lay a baby, obviously none other than her earth baby, who was crying softly. A snake was coiled around him protectively and hissing aggressively, though it calmed down as soon as it saw Athena. The baby's upper body was normal, but from the hip downwards, his body was that of a serpent. As soon as he saw his adoptive mother, he stopped crying, bubbled happily and lifted his tiny arms.

“Hello, sweetie”, Athena cooed, completely ignoring the hysterical screaming behind herself. “Sorry for being away so long. But now I'm back.”

She picked him up and cradled him in her arms and he fell asleep in no time, while she was crying on the inside and desperately prayed to Khaos, Ananke and the Moirai, that she would be spared the shame of having to explain, why she was raising a child.

With blazing eyes and fury in her heart the war goddess turned to the mortal women, who were still having a mental breakdown on the floor.

And with a mighty, divine voice, she bellowed: “Go to the cliff behind my temple … and jump!”

The women, completely out of their minds, scrambled to blindly follow the goddess's order.

Athena followed them. She craved the satisfaction of seeing the ones who had dared to cross her fall to their deaths.

Imagine her surprise, when they jumped and she saw two flashes (one bronze, the other crimson) descend from the sky – and a second later, the two madwomen were caught in their fall.

“Hermes! Ares!”, Athena exclaimed.

“Hi, Athena!”, Hermes chirped, while struggling with a raving Herse in his arms.

“What's the meanin' of this?”, Ares demanded to know, as he was holding Aglauros in a vice-like grip (for a second Athena marvelled at his impressive pair of crimson wings, which he was beating to keep his stability against the wind and his struggling, screaming captive). “Why'd ya drive these two insane and make 'em jump off the Akropolis?”

Hermes nodded. “Yeah, we'd like an explanation. For that and for why you're holding a baby in your arms.”

Oh shit. She was still holding the little one in her arms and now her two half-brothers had seen him! Ares hated her and would be all too happy to rat her out, while Hermes was a notorious chatter box.

By Ananke, this really wasn't her day.

Athena forced herself to calm down and step back, so the two could land.

“Come inside my temple”, she sighed. “And I'll explain everything. And while we're at it, you could tell me, what you're doing here and why their worthless lives matter to you enough to save them.”

With a scowl she pointed at Aglauros and Herse, who were still winding themselves in the gods' arms.

“It's a deal”, Hermes accommodated her and he and Ares landed carefully.

“But first we gotta restrain these two”, Ares stated. “They're gonna hurt themselves otherwise.”

“So, lemme get that straight”, Ares said, as he nibbled at his ambrosia. “My brother Heph tried to assault ya, while he was drunk. You kicked his arse, because obviously. Then some of his cum got on your thigh, you wiped it off and threw it away, also because obviously. And then Gaia thought it would be hilarious to turn this soiled cloth into a baby and push it onto you, even though she knows, that you have sworn to remain virginal and childless forever.”

Athena nodded.

The older god scowled: “Yeah, that sounds like something that fucking arsehole Protogenos would do.”

The wisdom goddess almost chortled at that.

“And then”, Hermes jumped back to the original topic, “you put him in a box, asked the daughters of Kekrops to take care of the box and not open it. But they opened it anyway and went cuckoo. And you were mad at their disobedience, so you told them to jump off the Akropolis.”

“Correct”, Athena confirmed. Then her face darkened again. “And now it's your turn. How are you related to those two? Don't tell me you've slept with my servants!”

It was Ares, who answered: “Slept with them – no. Courted them – yeah.”

“Good”, Athena nodded. “Only virgins like myself are allowed to serve me.”

“Speaking of the two”, Hermes piped up, “can you please give them their sanity back?”

The warrior goddess's eyes narrowed. “Why? They had it coming! That's what you get for snooping and disobeying my orders.”

“Pleeeease”, Hermes begged. “We'll carry them far away from Athens and you'll never have to deal with them again! How are we supposed to get lucky with them, if they're insane?”

“Get yourself mistresses that aren't deal-breaking bitches?”, Athena deadpanned.

In that moment the baby kicked in his wrappings and began to whine. She sighed and picked him up.

“I was going to give him nectar and ambrosia, once he became immortal, because that's what I was planning to do. But now that he's mortal like any other human, I don't know what to do!”, the goddess lamented. “I'm the goddess of wisdom, but I'm also a virgin and I can't handle babies for crap!”

Ares frowned: “Yeah, that much is clear. Well, Daddy's Owl, how 'bout ya take some advice from an actual parent, who's got experience in bringin' up kids. First off: you're holdin' him all wrong. Do ya think the baby can hold its big head up by itself?”

Athena cringed and hurried to rearrange her hold.

But the war god just shook his head, came over and guided her arms to show her how to do it right, until she managed to do it to his satisfaction.

“Better. Secondly: he's hungry. He needs mother's milk. I suggest ya find him a nurse, 'cuz the way I see it, you're not the kinda woman to breastfeed a baby.”

“Right!”, Athena huffed. “You two don't happen to know someone, who won't go insane at the sight of him and his snake guardian and who can keep her mouth shut?”

“I could ask my mother”, Hermes proposed, albeit reluctantly. “She is silent, a recluse and has adamantine nerves. And once the nursing period is over, she'll just give him back to you.”

Athena thought for a moment, ere she consented.

“Alright, thank you. Now that this is settled, there is one more thing I have to ask of you, before I cure these two women of their insanity and let you take them away.”

“Whatever ya want”, Ares promised. “If it's in our power, we'll do it.”

Hermes nodded affirmatively.

Athena's face became stern. “I demand the most sacred oath. Ares. Hermes. Swear to me by Gaia, Ouranos and the freezing water that drips from Styx, that you will never tell anyone about this child. And Hermes, I want you to let Maia know, that I expect the same from her.”

The two gods didn't hesitate to swear this solemn oath.

The goddess of wisdom sighed: “I still don't understand what you see in those two. But whatever. A promise is a promise.”

She snapped her finger and the two mortal girls passed out. Really, the things she did for her family!

“There. When they wake up, they'll be sane again. I suppose this is your lucky day, because these two are so fired from my service! So, if they consent to it, couple with them as much as you want. I literally don't care what you do to them, as long as it isn't rape.”

“Of course not. Thank you, Athena”, Hermes smiled politely.

“One more thing!”, Ares requested. “Before we proceed any further, can I hold my nephew?”

Athena tilted her head. “Huh? Uhm, sure.”

With great care the god of terrible war took the baby from his half-sister's arms.

The infant didn't seem frightened of Ares at all, quite the contrary: it giggled and coiled its serpentine lower body around his wrist, when he made silly faces.

“Awww, you're such a big softie! I wish I had a camera!”, Hermes teased.

Athena smirked: “Yes, I never thought I would see that day! Look at that, the little one really likes you!”

“Don't make me stuff you two into the next best volute krater⁴”, Ares warned without turning his gaze from the little one. “I'm sure, I can find one big enough for you both.”

The other two chuckled, but ceased their teasing; they couldn't fight with a baby in the room.

Hermes addressed Athena: “By the way, what's the little one's name? You gave him one, right?”

“But of course”, she confirmed. “His name is Erikhthonios.”

---

1) Potnia - "Lady/Queen/Mistress" 2) Glaukopis - "Bright-eyed/Owl-eyed", an epithet of Athena referring to her bright eyes (which depending on the translation are either grey or blue). 3) In some accounts Athena punishes the crow - which up to that point is her familiar - for either telling the girls what was in the chest or for being an overzealous tell-tale, by turning its feathers black, giving it a croaking voice and banishing it from her company. That doesn't really make sense to me, so I didn't include that version. 4) Volute krater - a big ancient Greek jar, used for wine.

#Greek Mythology #Gaia #Pallas Athena #erichthonius #Hermes #ares #herse #aglauros #a crow #give milk to the half-snake baby #athena is no good at parenting #but she tries okay

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i-want-anne-hathaway · 4 years

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Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

It’s & Juliet time. It’s been so long since I last listened to & Juliet because I wanted to get a feeling of nostalgia.

I had like a month long period where I only listened to & Juliet, and I have no regrets.

I had the hardest time listening to & Juliet because the app I used to listen to music wouldn’t ever play it. So I had to find loopholes to listen to this goddamn musical.

Musicals with the song I Want It That Way are iconic as fuck. Yes, even Cruel Intentions.

Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely is such a bop, it’s not even a joke.

I always forget that Domino is an actual song wasn’t created for the sake of this musical, and whenever I hear I’m like “oh my god, they’re playing & Juliet” before realizing “oh, wait-”

The rest of the call: *talking about trauma and emotions*

Me: GO INSANE, GO INSANE, THROW SOME GLITTER MAKE IT RAIN ON ‘EM

I’m not a girl, not yet a woman makes me emotional

They just get to hear me singing in a bad British accent while we kill hundreds of chickens in Minecraft.

“The way you turn me on... in a French accent”

The fact that this musical helped me in English is the best thing. My teacher was like “how old was Juliet at the time of Romeo and Juliet” and me, being me, immediately went “I AM NOT GOING CLUBBING WITH A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD”

“Kate, who are you curious for” “chickens”

I’ve watched the section of the boot with It’s My Life so many times because I love Anne’s dialogue during it.

I love that the choreography for Since U Been Gone is like the ensemble just shoving Romeo on the ground. It’s inconic.

Tell me why I cried my first time listening to One More Try. I was so emotional for no reason.

Jordan Luke Gage as that one bitch from Hadestown.

I cried during That’s The Way It Is because of course I did. It’s so fucking sad, and I love Anne so much. And Cassidy’s voice is so powerful. I just- she’s amazing.

I learned the choreo to Everybody for the sole purpose of confusing my family in the car.

When I first saw that there was a song called “As Long As You Love Me” on & Juliet, I thought that it was the Justin Bieber song.

I love that they named May, “May,” for the sole purpose of having the “It’s Gonna Be Me/May” joke.

The parallels between ...Baby One More Time and Stronger get me emotional as fuck.

I was super intimidated by how many songs there are in & Juliet, and then I realized that half of them are like 2 minutes long.

I like to aggressively do the arm cross dance move during Roar everytime the song comes on in the car because it confused my mother a lot.

I WANT ANNE HATHAWAY!

Idk why Anne’s relationship with Shakespeare makes me so emotional because I’ve never been in a similar situation. Like... ever.

And now that we’re done, we’re relistening to I Want It That Way (reprise) because we can. Like, I can’t believe that this song invented romance.

“I can’t believe Bree simps for Anne Hathaway”

In my English class, when Anne Hathaway was mentioned, I started like screaming “MY QUEEN! AGH! YES!”

Final Judgement: We love and respect jukebox musicals on this blog.

#long post #brees favorite games #tw capslock #tw cursing #if i missed any triggers let me know

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Mickey Mouse Birthday Shortstravaganza!

It’s Mickey and Minnie’s Birthday! It was 92 Years Ago Today everyone’s faviorite mouse came in on a tide of whistling, romance and animal abuse and swept into America’s hearts and wallets. Okay I am a day late on this, I had a busy day, but hey a belated celebratoin’s still good right? Right? Eh i’m doing it anyway. Anyway since then he’s been one of animations most iconic characters, and while out of the classic power trio I vastly prefer donald and goofy, they still woudln’t be around without Disney’s big cheese and having not seen a ton of Mickey’s shorts, I felt I owed it to the big eared one to take a look at a bunch of his shorts for his birthday and see how I liked em. If your curious about my previous Donald Duck marathon, it’s CLICK THIS LINK. Unlike last time all of these shorts are on Disney+ as more of Mickey’s library is on there and one or two of these were added recently, as Disney tends to add a few a month. I do wish there were more on there.. but unlike with say the handful of shows they haven’t put on there, i’m a bit more forgiving here. For one thing, YouTube has all the shorts available from various uploaders and DIsney hasn’t touched them despite Plus’ launch. Given like most companies Disney usually has their bots a cirlcing for their content, this has to be delebrate on there part and it’s a good gesture from the company. So while not in crisp HD like the Plus copies, or as easily avaliable, you can find any short that’s happened. So the shorts not all being up at once isn’t an issue like most of the shows that are absent on Plus.

They also heavily need to cherry pick their library as some shorts simply haven’t aged well or have offensive stuff. With the exception of “The Beach Picnic”, which has a racist caricature of native americans via ants.. yes really, most of the shorts are fine to show kids, and have aged pretty well. And as my last marathon showed some shorts.. just haven’t. While not you know racist, seriously why is the Beach Picnic on there?, “Donald’s Penguin”, while utterly adorable at first, ends with Donald trying to murder a baby penguin with a shot gun. No amount of content warnings is going to get past one of their beloved icons pointing a shotgun at a baby. While Disney’s self conciousness can be silly, the splash edit and not putting the Darkwing Duck episode “Hot Spells” on plus for instance, this is one time when I can agree with them: if someone is curious about a paticuarlly offensive short or a propoganda one, youtube exists. But given Plus is trying to be all ages and dosen’t have censoring they have to be careful what they put on there, and I can respect that. I don’t think anyone’s crying a river over the fact that the goofy short where his reflection keeps saying “Hey Fat”, over and over while he struggles with his weight isn’t on Disney Plus and thankfully never will be. But seriously get rid of the “Beach Picnic”. It’s not a good short and you already have one batch of native american stereotypes with “Peter Pan”, I don’t think racist ants are the hill you want to die on disney.

So yeah, this time all of these are from Disney Plus, and since I watched them all at once, their in Watch order rather than chronological like last time. So with all that out of the way...

After the cut

1. Steamboat Willie (1928): It’s All Fun and Games Until Mickey Strangles an Innocent Duck Starting from the obvious source, Steamboat Willie was the start of Mickey’s career. And it’s.. okay. The animation is fantastic and the first half is pretty good: Theirs a pretty good gag with one of the cows. But the finale, with Mickey abusing various animals just isn’t that funny A LITTLE rattling of an animal for comedy is fine.. but the things Mickey does here are just sociopathic> And yes I know it was the 1920′s, but even in that lawless, racist, sexist time, they knew better than to strangle a duck, or, in the moment that puts it over the top, remove suckling pigs fromt heir mom and then play a pig’s teats like an insturment to make it squeal musically.. I assure you I did not make this up. That actually happens. The pacing is also fairly slow at points, with some gags dragged out, though that can be chalked up to having no way to edit the damn thing, so that part I can forgive more. What makes up for it, like I said, are some good jokes, and some gorgeous animation. Decades later and while clearly made a long time ago, it still looks vibrant and really pops even in black and white. It shows just how talented Disney was and how far the company could go with this medium. One last thing to note is Mickey’s Early personality. While he’d retain trickster aspects at times, here he bounces between the loveable jolly mouse we’d come to know for the rest of his career who sometimes has a wild streak.. and a total asshole who strangles a duck. It’s just intresting to see such a diffrent side of him, most of which would end up going to Donald over time. Overall the short is decent, not the best of Disney’s catalogue but worth a watch for the historical significance despite it’s shortcomings, pun unintended.

2. Thru the Mirror (1936): That Was a Weird One This was easily my favorite of the bunch and as of now, my favorite Mickey Mouse Theatrical Short. Part of it is that it’s entirely bonkers; The film STARTS with Mickey , sound asleep, some how astral projecting as his soul, his spirit or whatever lead shis body and having been reading Alice Thorugh the Looking Glass, goes into a mirror world. But instead of encountring evil goatee mickey, he encounters a bunch of living objects and a bunch of fun set pieces for jokes ensue. He dances with playing cards, fights an army of them, has a sword fight with the king after dancing with the queen which.. no Mickey, bad mickey, your in a relationship and so is she. Bad Mouse bad. It is entirely fucking insane, even including a living nut cracker which.. words can’t.. look

They.. they had to know how this looked right? did the director have a ball busting fetish? I mean okay if he did, nothing wrong with that, but maybe don’t put it in your children’s cartoon. That being said it does eat the shells which I find creative. And that’s what really makes this one pop. The creativity. Not a single minute is boring, every minute has something intresting going on, but without throwing too muchi n your face. It’s just a wonderful short and one that like Mr. Duck Steps out, i’ll be rewatching a LOTTTT.

3. Mickey’s Rival (1936): Mortimer: The Original Bro From the same year we have disappointment. Having grown up with the disney classic House of Mouse, I was a huge fan of Mortimer. So when I first saw this, I was happy to see where he came from.. then justifably blocked it out of my mind till this review. While I love mortimer, I love Mickey having a sleazy rival and one diffrent than Pete who has different goals and tactics than the big guy. But his debut just has him as an obnoxious snickering bro.. which to be fair is who he is, but without the venre of charm his later version would have. Mortimer just spends the short being a pranking douche, and blatantly hitting on Minnie in front of Mickey while their on a date. Which even in an open relationship is a no no, so he has no leg to stand on.. metaphorically. He also walks weird in this one because, and this is true, he’s carying 9 volt batteries in his pants. Yes really. That’s the level of Douche we’re dealing with. Someone so up their own ass they carry batteries int heir pocket instead of money or a mask or children’s trading cards like a normal person or a me. What makes it frustrating is Minnie just swoons over the guy. And not like “Awww he’s so funny”, I mean romantically then has the gaul to say “your just jealous” when Mickey is understandably fuming over the jackass who swooped in, pranked him, is hitting on his girlfriend in front of him by teasing a bull, and in general is just the worst. Yes.. yes he is. Justifably. Jealousy is an ugly emotion but there’s a line between some dude bro like Mortimer getting mad your friends with someone you could be in a relationship with, boy, girl, neither, both, whatever your into, and Mickey getting mad his girlfriend is chuckling all over her ex who agian, crashed their date and treated him like garbage and is very transparently hitting on her in the middle of it. It’s also just not a very funny short, outside of the bit pictured and tha’ts more for the sheer aburdity of Mortimer elctifying his pant for a really dumb gag about stealing people’s pants button. He’s very lucky we didn’t see Mickey’s Epic Mickey is what i’m saying. But given he’s a frat bro, the 1930′s version granted but a bro nonetheless, he’d probably find that hilarious until he noticed the sheer size and scope. Overall a forgetable, frustrating short. The one bright spot is mickey and mortimer’s cars which have faces and stuff and look neat.. otherwise it was just a waste of my time and the only good thing it did was bringing Mortimer into our lives. And that ain’t nothing.

4. Mickey Down Under (1948): ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

This is a quick one.. because this one was a vacum. I mean I can at least say for Mickey’s Rival it’s interesting.. i’ts not good but it’s interesting. this is just.. Mickey farts around with a boomerang with his dog and then pisses off an ostrich. There’s not really a lot of consequence or intrest is what i’m saying. I can’t even find a good opening to make a letterkenny joke. No one got close to fucking an ostrich here. It’s telling by the fact theirs no gif’s of this one that no one cares and it baffles me this is one of the ones Disney chose to gussy up for D+ release. But still no donald messing around with a robot?

5. The Band Concert (1935): That’s More Like It. Okay scooting back a year we have the band concert. This is my third time watching this one and it’s a delight. Like the last one I don’t have a ton to say.. but it’s more because this one is just so good rather than because it wasted my time. It’s got a fun concept and the breakout performance from my boy donald duck as he constantly fucks with the band’s performance by either getting in their faces or hilariously pulling Flute’s out of thin heir. I miss that gimmick for donald, his love of pulling objects out of the either via magic and shenanigans. They should bring it back. Also his shenanigans remind me of opus and that’s never a bad thing.

Also Horace takes off his shirt. For the Ladies. A Classic for good reason.

6. On Ice (1935): Donald is a Bastard Man Another great one from the same year. This time around we have what i’ve come to call a Mickey and the Gang Messaround. This is back when Donald and Goofy were supporting characters, so generally each of the big three do something, usually coming together for the climax. In this case Mickey tries to help Minnie with her skating, with him adorably following her around with a pillow before showing off for her, just really sweet stuff. Goofy’s bit is hilariously dumb, as fitting my boy, as he feeds fish tobaco to get them to spit into a spitoon, and tries to club them, with predictable results. While not the most enivrionmentally friendly just the sheer oddness, the fact it sort of works minus him actually clubbing them, and one of hte fish smacking him in the face all make it work. The only bit that reallyd osen’t is Donald and pluto... it was present a bit before but here illustrates why I really dread Pluto based shorts. While I don’t hate the dog, he’s a dog I love dogs, most of the gags in his old shorts, and even up to mouseworks are him either being blamed for shit that’s not his fault, a pet peve of mine, or being tourtured in some way...

But dosen’t work at all now. He puts the poor dog on skates and then laughs at him and even sings a song mocking the poor dog, before justifably nearly ending up going over a watterfall, then ending up clubbed in the head. Good. I love donald but good god is he unsympathetic here.. and for some reason they teamed the two up again for more shorts! Why. It’s why I don’t get why Pluto was the star of his own shorts: if this is all they had.. why do it? Was the 30′s, 40′s and 50′s equilvent of a micheal bay audience really that into dog abuse? So yeah otherwise a good short but that segment drags it down. not Donald’s best work.

7. Clock Cleaners(1937): This is a Great One Not much to say on this one. It’s pretty good, has some fun set pieces, and some great jokes from all three characters. Mickey deals with a seagull, donald effs with a main spring and Goofy fights some statues. All good clean fun. My lack of brevity is more because I don’t have any jokes rather than this genuinely being bad. It’s pretty good.

8.. Mickey and the Seal(1948): More Pluto Torture Porn!

This one’s more of a mixed bag. On the one hand, it is really cute, as a young seal ends up going home with mickey after he visits the zoo to feed them fish. On the other hand.. it’s mostly Pluto chasing after the seal, Mickey being kind of a dick to pluto and not getting he clearly saw SOMETHING in his house, and then teasing him at the end despite him having been right. That being said the ending, with the seal brining back all it’s buddies to mickey’s house, is fricking amazing. ALso the seals in this unvierse who aren’t antrho can speak. That.. that raises a lot of questions I don’t think disney can answer.

9. Ye Olden Days (1933): Jaunty Dueling Music Now this.. this was a fun one. Mickey and Minnie head to Medivil times, proving that the current shorts tendency to jaunt to various settings isn’t a new thing, and it’ sjust a much of a fun change up here as it was there. Mickey, a wondering minstral, ends up trying to rescue Minnie after her father throws her in a dungeon for not wanting to marry Prince Dippy Dog, who hopes she can learn to love him. I can’t tell if he’s genuine or a dick here. But it’s fun, especially the part where, after Minnie declares she loves mickey which.. it’s been a few hours slow down, they decide on a duel and thus sing some ragtime, 1930′s getting ready for duel music that’s just catchy. if X Of Swords ever gets a movie, I want to use this song. Just.. really good stuff. A fun short with some great gag,s a great concept, and my boy goofy as the villian. What’s not to like? Alright one more.

10. MIckey’s BIrthday Party (1942): Big Chicken Breasts We end on another all together now, Mickey and the Gang Messaround that was a great note to end on. I did watch another short, Pluto’s Birthday party.. but it was both more of a Pluto short and more Pluto torture nonsense, so yeah, skipping that one, as I ended up one short of my 12 goal because I can’t count, apparently. So Mickey gets 10, but this one’s a good note to go out on.

Minnie throws a suprise party for mickey which almost turns into a live sex celebration as Mickey clearly is a wee bit horny going in. But it turns into a fun dance party, with Donald throwing out razzes like a good buddy, Goofy making a cake, and some fun gags with a piano they all bought him. It’s a really good short. That’s the problem with Mickey Shorts and doing all D+ ones: There just isn’t the weirdly offensive stuff to talk about there is. He’s not a bad character, but there’s a reason in every short that features all three, Donald and Goofy easily outshine him. Mickey’s not a bad character, but when not in trickster mode, there just isn’t a lot for him to do. It’s why the comics reinvented him, much like they did for donald, into a plucky detective/reporter who reguarly sovles crimes. He’s not bad, and as seen with Ye Olden Days and Thru the Miror, his blank slateness cna be put to good effect and house of mouse gave him more of a personality, but here he’s just the bland good guy to Donald’s loveable scmap and goofy’s loveable dumbass. It’s an issue comedy has to this day: having a lead whose just.. not as intresting as the rest of the ensemble. There is weirdness to note, as Donald dances with Clara Cluck> That’s not the weird part, he and daisy took a while to be etched in stone. The weird parts are 1. Donald wearing a sombrero and smoking a cigar, and 2. Clara’s MASSIVE boobs.. yes really. Clara Cuck has giant breasts. Like actual boobs that sway around while she dances with donald. it’s.. bizzare. Not terrible, who doesn’t like big chicken boobs but just.. really really weird to see ina Disney cartoon.But yeah it’s jus ta fun note to end on.

And that was MIckey’s Birthday special. I enjoyed it even if I had less to say than I thought. If you liked this review, you can comission your own for five bucks, just hit up my pms or my discord , avaliable on request. You can check out my ohter disney reviews in the disney tab on my blog and until next time, ther’es always another rainbow.

#mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #goofy goof #clara cluck #hoarace horsecollar #clarabelle cow #mortimer mouse #mickey's birthday #classic disney shorts

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talpup · 4 years

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Chaos: 44

Summary: The day Aizawa Shouta betrayed his Love was the day the Daimon lost everything that mattered in his life. Now, with her awake from her slumber and memory wiped, he has another chance at having her and being happy. There’s only the small problem of heaven wanting his Love dead, and hell wanting control of her. And her promise to protect and help another. Oh! And her remembering what he did.

But Shouta has waited so long to have her back. Has planned and taken measures to see his Love protected. He won’t loose her this time. He’ll do anything to keep her safe, and stop her from remembering his betrayal. Cost and consequences be damned.

Though it really is a shame that the cost just might bring about Chaos.

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of violence, sex, questionable con, and non-con (though we’re thankfully done with that), and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155333/chapters/55955119

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sorry, I've been meaning to add this note since I first introduced the Nenu but kept on forgetting.

For those that don't know, Nenu is a different spelling for Nu or Nun. Depending on what period of ancient Egyptian mythology one's looking at, the Nu is a sort of creator figure that was a watery abyss from which the earth/land came forth from, or (if looking at the negative aspects of later years) a being of chaos and disorder. The Nu was also described as the 'Father of the gods'.

While the Nenu in Chaos isn't the ancient Egyptian Nenu, I have taken aspects of this mythological deity.

44.1

Shouta's eyes glowed red with his power. A black tendril burst into existence and wrapped around the beast that had charged him. He growled, gritting his teeth in effort to restrain the creature with the dense, rope-like blackness.

“Where’s Anna? Dabi! Find her.” Shouta pulled his blade from the beast and stabbed it again.

Dabi set out a blast of white flames and the beast charging him and Shigaraki. Though no smoke billowed from the seems of his stitches, there was an unpleasant warmth beginning to build from the use of his affinity.

So longer, better use but still an inevitable backlash, Dabi thought as he continued. Not the greatest news, but good to know I guess.

“Dabi!” Shouta barked.

Dabi grimaced at the telltale burning of the Ties compel. “Damn it! Aizawa! I’m a little busy trying not to died. You’re the one with the Tie that tells you where she is. You find her!”

Shouta growled taking his anger and frustrations out at the clawing beast.

If the Tie was working, allowing him to sense where Reyanna was, he wouldn’t be asking the stupid Demon to find her. This damned place must have similar blocks to those that heaven had.

44.2

Reyanna broke away from the Nenu’s hold and flinted several meters back.

Where was Shouta? She had to get back to him.

“Face me, Sister.”

“I’m not your damned sister, you crazy abomination.” She tried to call forth her blade but it was more instinct than anything else.

The weapon didn’t come. Instead her open hand was left empty, her bid unanswered; the blade that had been like a part of her since childhood now nothing but pieces and dust.

The Nenu took a step toward her.

Reyanna crouched and took two back.

“Is that what you think of yourself? As an abomination? No wonder you refuse to open yourself to who you truly are.”

Reyanna’s hand closed into a fist. “I’m nothing like you! Now tell me, where’s Shouta?”

The Nenu’s bat-like winds expanded making the room they were in even darker. “You’re right, little Sister. You are nothing like me. But you are a child of Chaos just the same. Bow and submit, and I may yet let your Lover live.”

As much as it hurt her eyes to look the Nenu’s duel form, Reyanna didn’t look away. One of the first rules Shouta had ever taught her was to never take your eyes off a superior enemy; and the fact was, the enemy standing before her was by far superior.

This Third had to be the most formidable enemy she had ever faced. The Nenu was greater than the Great Rock that she battled for half a day and nearly lost to. He might even been greater than Toshinori, who had killed her.

Keeping one eye on the Nenu, she quickly scanned the room.

There were no doors or windows. She was alone with this thing and saw no physical means of escape. She tried to flint back to Shouta; but found that she couldn’t flint out of the room.

Shouta… She was the reason he was here. She had brought Shouta into this mess. She had endangered her Love without thought or care all because he had made her betray her promise to Abril and then hidden that fact.

Damn her stubborn pride, and irrational anger towards him. She was the one who had broke. It was her desire for him that broke her. He was just trying to see her safe and well. But his deeds and her dwindling fury meant nothing in the face of this.

The worlds. Her life. All of existence. None of it meant anything. Not without him.

She had to find him and get him out of here. To hell with her promise to Abril. To hell with the task of closing one of the gates. All that matter was Shouta. He was the reason for everything. He was her reason for everything. Even if she didn’t live to tell him that or how sorry she was; she had to live long enough to find him and see him safe.

Reyanna straightened to her full height, eyes glowing with her power. “Where’s Shouta!”

44.3

“...Shouta!” Reyanna’s voice sounded from overhead.

Shouta's head snapped up. “Anna!”

He grunted, chest sliced open by claws. Growling he stabbed the thing again, blade slicing downward through its leg as he pulled the weapon out.

“Zashi! Hold the thing.”

“What!” Hizashi stopped pulling at his embedded blade, to look at the Daimon.

Was Shouta insane? He couldn’t hold the thing. They could barely stop it from killing them while working together.

Shouta didn’t respond. He had already let the dark tendrils fall away from the creature and tried to flint to Reyanna.

Though he could flint, Shouta quickly found that he couldn’t flint up there. He scowled at the sky above, noticing that both Reyanna’s and the Nenu’s feet were flat as if they were standing on something instead of hovering in the air.

Dense black tendril reappearing Shouta cast it out thinking to lasso her and pull her to him.

At the same time as Shouta made his move, Hawks took to the air, having called back his feathers. Both Shouta's dark coil and Hawks hit the same invisible barrier and fell back.

Shouta's dense, dark tendril disappeared.

Hawks tumbled to the ground.

“There’s some kind of barrier.” Hawks said, shaking his ring head.

“Shou!” Hizashi both pleaded and warned.

The Angel was being thrown about.

He refused to let go of his blade which was still embedded in the shoulder of the beast he and Shouta were facing.

Caring little about Hizashi’s presence, the creature bucked wildly and made a zigzagged line toward Shouta.

44.4

Hand in Todoroki’s, Hitoshi allowed his Boyfriend to half lead, half drag him down the countless flights of stairs.

“Just how far down does this place go?” Hitoshi panted.

It felt like they had been running forever and he doubted the others could hold out for long when the Nenu woke back up.

“We’re not going down. We’re going up.”

Hitoshi’s feet planted in place. He would’ve fallen over from Todoroki’s pulling grip if he hadn’t begun moving again so quickly.

“Up! We’re going the wrong way!”

“No we’re not.” Todoroki said, calmly. “Look out the window.”

Window. What window? Hitoshi was about to force the other boy to stop when light suddenly flooded the place. The once steep, narrow, dark stairs that had been chiseled roughly into the stone changed and expanded. The space was now airy. The stairs wide and marbled, the balustrade ornate. Most disconcerting, they were no longer going down but up, and they hadn’t missed a step or changed direction.

Hitoshi gawked, now thinking that he had gone crazy.

“Remember where we are. This place is the home of Third’s. The children of Chaos don’t follow the same rules and order that we do, and neither does their world.” Todoroki said, eyes ever focused ahead.

Hitoshi looked about in awe.

He was a Third, granted a made one. But he felt stupid for not knowing these things. Then again he hadn’t had many dealings with Thirds. And the few encounters that he had, hadn’t exactly been friendly. It wasn’t as if the Were’s that had attacked his home and killed his parents had left a handbook.

He almost snorted at the thought.

If there had been a handbook, Aizawa probably would’ve made him memorize every word, coma, and period. He could almost hear his mentor now. Word choice and phrasing are often key. When it comes to the written word, punctuation or lack there of is just as important.

It felt silly to look out the window and confirm what his eyes now saw; but his eyes had told him something completely different just a moment ago.

Hitoshi looked out the window.

“Anna!” The Were’s heart lurched.

He tugged against Todoroki’s hand, mind reeling. Could she flint to safety from such a height? The Nenu was choking her. The Nenu’s wings weren’t even moving. How could he just hover there? They had to help her.

Todoroki pulled Hitoshi along, focused solely on his task. “She’ll either open herself up to the truth and realize what she’s done, or die.”

Hitoshi didn’t understand what the Llaes was saying but none of that mattered.

He pulled harder against Todoroki’s hold. “We have to help her! Aizawa--”

“Not even Aizawa can help her now. This is something she has to do and face alone. Either she accepts, or it was all for nothing, and we die.”

“What?”

Todoroki tugged at Hitoshi’s hand. “All we can do is get to the chamber door and hope for the best. Come on.”

44.5

Able to see both the room and open air they seemingly floated in, the Nenu chuckled at Reyanna’s demanding question.

He glanced down looking at the fallen Seraphim watching the Daimon battle one of his Aspects.

While the three beast below where him, or more correctly parts of him, it was like multi tasking. His mind and eye could only concentrate on so many things at once, and only one of them well. The three Aspects below were mostly fighting without thought. Like breathing, the beasts movements were more autonomic than consciously done. Any changes in their actions could be done; but similar to holding ones breath, it could only be done for so long.

Just the act of being split was draining. Add to that him keeping Reyanna from seeing both surroundings like the way she saw both of him, and he would tire fairly quickly. The wounds his Aspects took from those down below, while not yet felt or seen on his main body, did put a direct toil on his system.

Reyanna’s lips curled. The shadow’s within the room pulled toward her.

“Shouta. Where is h--”

The Nenu was on her quicker than she could see.

His hand wrapped around her throat.

Before she could register the act, let alone respond to it, she was lifted up into the air.

Reyanna clawed at the Nenu’s crushing hand. Her legs kicked out. Toes pointed, she tried to touch the stone floor in effort to take some of the weight off her strangled trachea.

“Insolent whelp.” The Nenu’s other hand pressed against her chest, claws digging in right where Toshinori’s blade had pierced and killed her.

Reyanna’s choked gurgle shortened to a harsh staccato. She would’ve cried out in pain if she could get any air through her raw, burning windpipe. Her eyes widened and squeezed shut. The best she could manage in this state, without her blade, were futile hits and kicks.

Her power radiated a burning cold that seemed to do nothing to him.

She tried to pull his shadow from him but it barely even twitched in her direction.

“Such a pathetic daughter of Chaos you are. It burns me to think of you as a sister.”

45.6

Though the beast he and Hizashi were fighting required all of his attention to merely stay alive, Shouta chanced a look up. What he saw made his blood boil and run cold.

“Anna!”

“Shouta!” Hizashi flinted between the striking beast and his friend.

Shouta's head spun around.

He saw claws tear through Hizashi’s flesh, the raking gouges deep enough to slice through something vital and kill.

“Zashi!”

Hizashi fell back against the Daimon.

“Hang on.” Shouta flinted them a half mile away, near the top of a steep hill. “I got you. Just hang on.”

Shouta reached into his pocket, cursing his sticky blood coated hand that made the fabric cling.

His fingers wrapped around a vial, pocket tearing as he pulled it out.

“Here.” Shouta’s shaking hands fumbled, trying to uncap the bottle.

Hizashi’s hand closed around the Daimon's wrist. “Shou… Don’t.”

“Shut up and save your strength.”

Hizashi smiled weakly and shook his head. “You need to save that for yourself or Anna, yeah.”

Anna… Shouta's fingers stopped. He looked up at his Love who was being strangled by the Nenu and willed her to fight.

Why was it that when she needed him most he couldn’t get to her? He couldn’t loose her again. He wasn’t even sure if the vial he held was the real deal and would work.

A Phoenix potion. The most rare and difficult potion a witch could brew. Such a thing required a laundry list of ingredients, all of them near impossible to find and acquire. Even then, the cost of making such a potion demanded an incredible cost. Usually the witch’s life or that of a loved one.

The vial had been bubble wrapped and pushed through the mail slot at Hizashi's penthouse apartment only yesterday. There had been no note, just two Words, for Aizawa.

Shouta had no idea who had secretly left him such a thing. Okay he had some idea. More like an educated guess. It wasn’t as if he knew very many witches. Certainly not many that could come close to acquiring even a quarter of the needed ingredients.

Still, even if Nighteye could use his affinity’s sight and knew what they would up to, that didn’t explain why the Witch would give him such a rare and value thing.

“Zashi.” Shouta swallowed, pulling his worried gaze away from Reyanna to look at his friend.

The Angel was right. He couldn’t use it to save him. Reyanna might need it. He couldn’t lose her again.

“It’s alright, Shou.”

“Why?” Shouta demanded with heated fierceness.

Why had Hizashi gotten between him and the beast? He was the fool who had taken his eyes off of the thing. He couldn’t even save Reyanna, and now his oldest and only friend was dying because of him.

“You know why. You’re my friend. You gave me a chance and stuck with me when no other would.”

Shouta could've scoffed. As it was, he couldn’t stop the roll of his eyes. “I was just doing my job. Logically speaking, you were bound to be good for something.”

Hizashi started to laugh but it quickly turned to coughs of blood.

Shouta grimaced. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t shed a single tear. Instead he would stay by the Angels side till he died, find a way to save Reyanna, and lay waste to this place and all the creatures in it.

“Be happy, Shou. Do right. Win Anna back. And be happy, okay.”

I write for my own enjoyment, but edit and post for yours. If you enjoyed reading this at all please comment and let me know. It’s the only thing that encourages me to keep editing and posting.

Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a great big THANK YOU to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship, and help brainstorming. Your thoughts and our chats mean a lot.

#bnha #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #shinsou hitoshi #todoroki shouto #bnha hawks #dabi my hero academia #yandere aizawa #yandere #chaos

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 035 [Consequences]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,869

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Will I catch my breath before I meet my end? Wish I could say I played a fair game, but I’ve been cheating death. Because the sun brings light to mistakes of yesterday.” Mosaic, “Hollow”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Honestly, what were you thinking, Winchester?” Midnight put her hand on her hip, looking at me expectantly. Principal Nezu was standing beside her, his paws behind his back and a cheerful look on his face.

I grunted, not even bothering to respond as I looked away, my arms crossed over my chest. I mean, I could tell them that I was legit contemplating shoving a chimichanga up his ass, but something tells that wouldn’t help my case here.

She sighed deeply at the lack of response, turning her gaze to the small rat beside her. “What should we do with her?”

“Well, she did attack another student outside of the event,” Nezu said cheerfully as he turned his beady eyes to me. “Do you deny this accusation?”

“No. Would it help if I said he deserved it?”

“It won’t help at all!” He smiled, before looking back up at Midnight. I bet he gets a lot of neckaches looking up at everyone. “Winchester should certainly be punished for her misconduct. However, I feel as though removing her entirely from the sports festival is a bit over the top. She worked quite hard to get as far as she did, after all. Do you agree, Midnight?”

She nodded. “In that case, you will forfeit your next match and accept fourth place. You should be thankful that you aren’t being removed from the sports festival entirely!”

I held back a groan. Man, Katsuki’s gonna be so~ fucking pissed.

“You’re also going to apologize to Monoma,” she continued. “Is that clear?”

“Yeah, whateva,” I muttered.

“You can be such a pain, Jen,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “We better get the next match started before they start to riot again. Go back to the seating area and stay out of trouble!”

“It’s not my fault trouble is attracted to me, Midnight. I mean, look at me, I’m sexy as fuck!”

She deadpanned.

“What, you don’t agree?”

“Go, Jen.”

“Che,” I did as she ordered, heading straight for 1-A’s seating area. From the direction I was walking, I would have to pass by class B before reaching my own. I hesitated for a moment, having an internal debate with myself before finally taking the steps down. Monoma was sitting in the first row. Half of class B glared at me, while the other half just gave me a confused look. I stopped in front of the blonde. Recovery Girl had clearly fixed his nose, but there was a white strip of bandage over the bridge.

I took a deep breath. This kinda hurts my fucking pride, but… fuck it. “I’m sorry for punching you. No matter what you said to me, I should’ve had more control over myself. Sorry, Monoma.”

His eyes widened, cheeks dusting with color as his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Kendo, sitting behind him, smacked the back of his head and he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Y-Yeah… me too.”

Ryuu smiled proudly at me, his fingers brushing mine as I passed. It was his way of saying that there were no hard feelings between us, and I really appreciated the sentiment.

I returned to my class, stifling a yawn. The class noticed me and their chatter died down. I tried to ignore all the eyes on me as I sat between Bakugo and Sparky.

“What happened?” Sparky asked, softly.

I shrugged, sharing a look with Bakugo. It was obvious that the two boys had told the others about what they saw. “I had to apologize to ’em.”

“That’s it?” He breathed out, giving me a grin. “We were worried!”

“You better not be lying,” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed at me and I chuckled, ruffling his ash blonde hair.

“No lie, bro.”

“It’s the second match of the third round! These two heroes in training have both been front runners in the sports festival! It’s Midoriya!! Versus! Todoroki!! But which of these rivals will advance to the next round?! BEGIN!”

Before Mic’s voice could even fade, both boys sprung into action. Todoroki launched an ice barrage at Zuku, who used a small smash with his finger to break it apart before it could reach him, sending a strong gust of wind across the stadium. The only thing that kept Todoroki in bounds was the chunk of ice he created behind him.

“Wo~w! Midoriya managed to break Todoroki’s insane opening move!”

They did this dance again. And again.

“He countered it again!”

My eyes narrowed as I watched them. The battle’s only just begun and he’s already broken three of his fingers on his right hand. For fuck’s sake, kid. Ain’t there another way to use that insane power of yours? Like I get it, it’s the superior quirk, but still…

“Oh crap!” Kirishima came running up. “I’m missing it!”

“Hey, nice job making it to the third round, Kirishima,” Sparky commented.

“Thanks, man! Looks like I take down Bakugo next!”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Heh, yeah, sure. In your dreams.” Kiri grinned brightly, hands on his hips. “No, but seriously. It’s crazy how both you and Todoroki have moves that blast the whole stadium. Must be pretty nice!”

My eyes narrowed at him. There’s that lack of self-confidence again…

“Plus, you don’t have to pause between attacks,” Sero added with a jealous look in his eyes.

“It’s not as easy as you think, ya morons,” Bakugo responded. “If you overuse your muscles, you risk tearing them apart. If you sprint too much, you run out of breath.” He paused, looking down at his hand. “Quirks are physical abilities, too. They can get worn out, you can’t just use them non-stop.”

“It makes sense when you put it that way,” Kiri admitted. “I wonder if that’s how Midoriya thinks he’s gonna beat Todoroki.”

“Todoroki withstood Midoriya’s power and is now rushing his classmate!”

Midoriya tried to avoid the ice, but it grabbed a hold of his foot and his fist clenched, power rising drastically. I shifted in my seat, a drop of sweat rolling down my cheek. Bakugo sent me a look but said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the match. Zuku broke his arm defending against the ice. Fuck, kid, do you even have a plan?

“Woah! Todoroki continues his overwhelming attacks! Could this be his finishing move?!”

Ice shot toward Zuku at an alarming speed and he released another smash to counter it. Todoroki was barely able to stop himself from being thrown out of bounds that time.

“You’re trembling… Todoroki,” Zuku’s voice reached out to us. “It’s easy to forget that quirks are physical abilities and that means… there’s a limit to the cold your body can take, right?! I get it. Usually, you’d make up for the drop in temperature by using the heat from your left side, but you refuse to do that now. Listen… we’re all giving it our all… to try and win… to make our dreams a reality… to become number one! You think you can win with half your strength?! Look at me, Todoroki! You haven’t managed to put a single scratch on me yet! So come at me with all you’ve got!!”

What the fuck is he thinking? While it’s true that Todoroki’s ice hasn’t hurt him, he’s already broken four fingers on his right hand and his left arm. He’s quickly running out of options. Is he trying to bluff? No, that’s not it. My brow furrowed. Wait a minute… I shot out of my seat, eyes widening. “Don’t fucking tell me…”

“What’s wrong, Winchester?” Kirishima leaned forward, his hand on my back and voice full of concern.

Izuku, you… you’re trying to save him, aren’t you? You’re risking the finals, your body, everything to pull him out from the darkness he’s lost within. I can’t believe this.

“Midoriya… what are you trying to do here?” Todoroki demanded, his voice growing angry. “You want my fire?! What, did my monster of a dad bribe you or something?!” He rushed at Zuku. “Now I’m mad!!”

Zuku’s slammed his fist into Todoroki’s stomach.

“A solid punch! That’s the kind of action that I like to see!”

You’re literally tearing your body apart, Izuku! Is it worth it? My hands clenched tightly, nails digging into my palms. There’s no way in hell Gran can heal all of those injuries at once, but you know that already don’t you? You don’t care…

Izuku used his cheek to pull back his thumb, releasing another smash.

“Why are you putting yourself through this?” Todoroki demanded.

“I wanna live up to people’s expectations! I wanna be able to smile… while doing something good for them! I wanna be a pro! Whatever it takes to be a hero!” Izuku cried, headbutting Todoroki in the chest. “That’s why I’ll give it my all… just like… you should be! There’s no way I can know what you’ve gone through, or why you’re even here. Your life has been so much different then mine, but right now… stop screwing around! If you want to reject your father, fine, but you don’t have the right to be number one if you’re not going to use your full power!”

I stepped forward, my hands clutching the railing. I can feel… so much raw emotion coming from those two boys. Sadness, pain, frustration. I swallowed hard, my heart clenching within my chest.

“Winchester, are you okay? You’re shaking…”

No… no, I’m not okay… because neither of them are.

“Shut. Up.” Ice was spreading rapidly across his right side.

“That’s why I’m going to win this!! I’ll surpass you!” Izuku punched him in the stomach again, sending him flying back into the air.

Todoroki was silent for a moment, clearly lost in thought before shaking his head. “I will reject you… I refuse to use my left side…”

“It’s yours!!” Izuku cried. “Your quirk, not his!!”

Todoroki’s power shot through the rood as flames erupted from his left side, blazing like an untamed wildfire, fueled by pure, raw emotion.

My hands clenched tighter around the metal. Those flames… they’re so goddamn beautiful, so powerful. I… I want to fight him. I want to feel those flames for myself, I want to see how my flames stack up against his. Can my body withstand them? Goddamn it!

Arms wrapped protectively around my waist, but their words were muffled, distant. My mind could only focus on the sheer amount of power and emotion that was crushing the air.

“Yes, Shoto!! Have you finally accepted your purpose?!” Endeavor stalked down the stairs, a smug look on his face as he approached the railing. “That’s it, very good! This the dawn of a new era for us! With my blood in your veins, you’ll surpass me! You will live up to the reason I created you!!”

My eyes snapped to him, glowing red as my blood boiled within my veins. I’m already in trouble with the staff, I should fucking punching that bastard in the balls so he can’t have any more fucking kids. I should punch him in his smug fucking face, too. Maybe it’ll make him attractive if I rearrange those ugly ass features of his!

“Endeavor suddenly shouts words of… en… couragement? What a doting father…”

My eyes snapped back to the arena as a wave of power shot through the air. Fucking hell, that power is… incredible. Todoroki covered the arena with ice, which Izuku dodged, flying toward him. In an instant, Todoroki switched to his flames, melting the ice he had created. Five thick cement slabs shot up from the ground between them, lessening the impact of each of their attacks, but the raw power from both sides shattered the cement easily, exploding them into bits. A fierce wind pushed against the stands. I braced myself, feeling the arms around me tighten and several voices crying out in surprise.

The intense pressure slowly started to fade and I felt like I could breathe again.

“What happened just now? What the heck is up with your students?” Mic cried.

“The air around the ring had been thoroughly cooled down and then rapidly expanded when heated up.”

“Wait, that’s what caused the explosion?! How hot did that fire get?! Jeez, I can’t see a thing! Is the match still going on or what, huh?”

The smoke finally started to clear. Zuku’s body was flush against the wall, smoking. His body shifted before falling to the ground, unconscious.

“There…” Midnight’s voice was shaking. “Midoriya is… out of bounds! Todoroki wins! He advances to the fourth round!”

I took a shaky breath. “Let go of me.” I shoved the person away, seeing a flash of red as I took off toward the nurse’s office, ignoring the calls of my name.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“The bones in your right arm were shattered. I’m afraid it’ll never be the same as it was before.” Gran explained sadly as she stood beside the best. Izuku was covered in bandages, his arms wrapped thicker than Aizawa’s. “I need to remove the bone fragment or they’ll get stuck in your joints. I’ll heal you afterward.” She sighed deeply before turning to Toshi, who was standing beside me. “You lit a fire under this child and pushed him too hard. Look at what he’s done to make you proud. I don’t like it one bit.”

I scratched my cheek. “Come on, Gran, that’s not fair… I mean, he did push him, that’s true, but… Toshi ain’t completely to blame. I know Zuku wanted to make him proud and help Todoroki, but he should have had the sense to stop before it got too far.”

Toshi rested his hand on my shoulder.

Gran shook her head in disappointment. “You’re going too far, you hear? You and the boy. Don’t praise him for what he’s done today.”

“Midoriya!” The door slammed open, nearly making Toshi jump out of his skin as Iida, Ochaco, Tsu, and Mineta appeared in the doorway, all looking worried.

“You scared the crap out of me,” Toshi muttered, holding his hand over his heart.

“Getting jumpy in your old age?” I snickered, raising a brow. He shot me a look, pinching my hand.

“Are you okay?” Ochaco asked before she noticed Toshi. “Oh, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Real smooth, Tosh. Real smooth.

“He’s in no state for visitors,” Gran said firmly.

“Hey, guys…” Zuku said with a soft, low voice. “Shouldn’t you be watching the matches?”

“The stage was far too damaged,” Iida explained. “They’re taking a quick break to repair it now.”

“That match was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Midoriya.” Mineta’s small body shook as he spoke. “What pro’s gonna want a sidekick that hurts himself?”

My eyes snapped to him and I was about to punch him in the head when Tsu slapped him with her tongue. “You’re just rubbing salt in his wounds. Probably not a good time.”

I sent her a smile, which she returned.

“Hey, I was just speaking the truth.”

“You’re much too noisy!” Gran scolded, ushering them toward the door. “I know you’re worried, but I’ve got to focus on surgery now.”

“Surgery?!” They chorused in shock.

“Go on, get out of here!” She kept pushing.

“But -”

“Surgery is a big deal, isn’t it?”

“Will his wounds be healed?”

“Don’t worry, just leave me to it.” She assured them.

“Ribbit…”

That… was the saddest fucking ribbit I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life. I fought the urge to rush over and pull Tsu into a bone-crushing hug.

“With all due respect, ma’am, shouldn’t Winchester be forced to leave, as well?”

My eyes narrowed at Iida. Got his ass beat and he still doesn’t know when to fucking call it quits. Annoying fuck.

“I need to check on her injuries from earlier, now go on.” She finally got them out the door, closing it behind them.

“I’m sorry…” Zuku spoke up, his voice soft and defeated. I rested my hand on his uninjured leg, rubbing gentle circles on his outer thigh to help calm him. “I couldn’t do what you asked of me. If I had shut up… not said anything… I might’ve been able to beat him… but I…”

“You got Todoroki to realize something very important about himself,” Toshi responded.

“I guess so. In his first match, he looked so sad. I was trying to figure out why, when I should’ve been focused. I made a bigger mistake, though. Whenever we were fighting, I was just so… so frustrated. I couldn’t see the bigger picture or what it would take to win. I’m sorry…”

“It’s true that the match didn’t go how we wanted it to, and realizing where you went wrong won’t change that… but, listen. Meddling where you don’t technically have to is the essence of being a hero.”

I squeezed his thigh, giving him a smile when his eyes met mine. “Toshi’s right, you know. Helping Todoroki was more important to you than winning the match. If you ask me, you’re already a damn good hero.”

He made a strangled noise, trying to hold back tears as his hair fell over his eyes.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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