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blessednereid · 3 years

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Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

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Career Day

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Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

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L/N Residence

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You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

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Announcement

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The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

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Auditions

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You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

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Headmasters Office

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A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

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First Rehearsal

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After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

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The Talk

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"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

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Confrontation

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"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

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Opening Night

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Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

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The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

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You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

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Airport

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Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

#Daniel Sharman x reader #daniel sharman fic #Daniel Sharman imagine #Daniel Sharman fluff #Daniel Sharman angst #very angsty #ftwd imagine #twd imagine #troy otto imagine #dylan obrien imagine #that last one is for exposure #I have no regrets

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yami-kada · 3 years

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Mission 2

Recently I read a fanfic on AO3 called Interlude - Class 1-A by @itslivybear and was inspired a bit to write a fic based on that! Well really I got inspiration for a single line (you'll know it when you see it) and then had to write a whole thing to be able to share that one line, but oh well. This is my first time writing a chatfic or even any BNHA content at all, so I hope it doesn't suck! Thanks to @shadesofflame for being an awesome beta!

(Quick FYI in this AU M*neta and Bakugou are replaced with Shinsou and Monoma, sorry for any confusion. Also a name guide can be found at the bottom.)

RockSolid: Um, so.

RockSolid: Remember the missions during the Sports Festival?

PurpleGrape: Oh hell yeah.

PurpleGrape: Still cherish the look on that bastard's face.

Spoderman: jehxgjc Kiri I got it on video!!!

JazzHands: You've had video of the capture of the bounty this whole time and never showed us???

LSD: I thought we were friends Sero!

Spoderman: omg no not that I totally would have shared earlier if i did

Spoderman: im talking about That.

RockSolid: no Sero don't tell them!

RockSolid: it's embarrassing!

PikaCHU: Tell us, tell us!

NYOOM: Kaminari-kun! If Kirishima-kun wishes to keep his privacy, then it is our duty as his classmates to respect that!

Spoderman: ok but consider: he already gave them a major hint and they are about to POUNCE

BreadIsPain: As a witness as well, I must say that Kirishima was si attirant que j'ai failli m'évanouir~*

RockSolid: thanks, I think?

MOMo: To paraphrase Aoyama, he is essentially saying you were very manly, Kirishima!

RockSolid: aw thanks bro!! Don't believe you but thanks!

Spoderman: you take that lack of confidence back I have evidence right here that says you are super fucking manly!

LSD: ok please now we have to know so that we can show Kiri how great he is!!!

MOMo: I must admit that the commentary seen thus far has me rather curious as well.

RockSolid: You guys…

RockSolid: alright then, I'll tell you!

Spoderman: sweet ill pull it up!

RockSolid: bro don't you dare! my story, I get to tell it!

Spoderman: oh yeah of course bro!!

Spoderman: but if after you wanna show it then i am READY.

JazzHands: This is very sweet and all but I am very thirsty for this TEA.

RockSolid: on it!

Kirby: Kiri you've been typing for so long that I'm getting Izuku vibes here.

GreenGrape: Hey!

RockSolid: sorry! this is harder than I thought!

Spoderman: want me to start it off?

RockSolid: you know what, sure.

Spoderman: aight so,

Spoderman: Council, what qualifies as capturing the bounty?

GreenGrape: Guys no the bounty is over please no more bounty-hunting Kacchan.

MOMo: Your objection is noted and overruled, Izuku.

MOMo: For your question, Sero, I do not believe we ever set specific limitations on what qualified, but I was under the impression that it was limited to the Sports Festival. Why do you ask?

Spoderman: just double checking

Spoderman: because my bro here just totally shot both missions out of the park!!!

LSD: gaSP!!!

JazzHands: bOTH?!

RockSolid: no not both!! we have no confirmation for either, technically!

Kirby: Technically? What do you mean by that?

RockSolid: ahhhh ok so Sero and I were eating lunch in the courtyard because it was nice out, right?!

RockSolid: and we were chillin, being bros, birds were singing, all was good.

RockSolid: and then we heard a small explosion before the bounty walked in at the other end of the courtyard and started kicking at the wall.

PikaCHU: omg so angy.

RockSolid: and like fine, we can tune him out, just try to act like he's not there, you know?

RockSolid: But then he started yelling at random people in the courtyard, just acting pissed as hell.

PikaCHU: oMG so ANGY.

RockSolid: and that's just not manly at all, you know? going off on people like that just because you're in a bad mood.

GreenGrape: Yeah… that's Kacchan for you.

RockSolid: so he's making his way around the courtyard now, like everyone needs their daily dose of asshole for him to be happy, and the closer he got the more annoyed I got.

Spoderman: here it comes!

RockSolid: and eventually I get up, because I have had just about enough, and walk right up to him.

RockSolid: he doesn't see me coming, because he was too busy yelling at some girl, and I get right up behind him.

RockSolid: and then I just called out to get his attention, and spun him to face me while making sure I end up between him and the girl.

RockSolid: and well I told him off a little bit and got him to back off then left in a hurry.

RockSolid: and that's it!

Spoderman: oh no you don't

BreadIsPain: Oui! Monsieur Kirishima, you must tell the climax with just as much zest as the build-up!

Spoderman: what he said! no skipping out on the best part!

RockSolid: but!!!

Jacked: No buts, mister. We're all way too invested now for you to back down.

RockSolid: :(

RockSolid: fine! you win!

RockSolid: so uh when I got his attention, I also got my hand onto his shoulder, and used his surprise to knock his feet a bit off balance and pulled him back, but then I ended up with him in my arms and could tell he was about to start yelling so I just…

RockSolid: you know…

RockSolid: flirted?

LSD: oh my GoD this is great!!!

PikaCHU: Hell yeah Kiri! Go get yourself a manz!

RockSolid: I'm not getting a man! He's probably going to kill me the next time he sees me!

Spoderman: i dunno, it took him a good long while to reboot after what you said there

Spoderman: you might have a shot

PurpleGrape: Well if you're not going to get a man out of this, mind telling us what you said so I can bait him next time he tries to be an ass?

RockSolid: uhhh…

RockSolid: I'm nervous.

BreadIsPain: If you will allow me, I shall finish your tale off dazzlingly!

RockSolid: Thanks Aoyama.

BreadIsPain: Bien entendu!

BreadIsPain: While holding him in his arms tightly in a dip, faces inches apart, Monsieur Kirishima leaned impossibly closer to emphasize his point.

RockSolid: oh god I regret everything.

LSD: Hush, it's getting good!

BreadIsPain: With a growl to his voice and his eyes burning above a smirk, he said "You know, you're damn cute when you're angry, but you'd be downright sexy if you shut the fuck up." Then he straightened up to fling the lost soul to the side, and saunter off like the devil was guarding his back, leaving the bounty terribly confused in his wake.

PurpleGrape: Whoa.

PikaCHU: Holy shit?!

RockSolid: what is that description?!?!?!

JazzHands: Kiri that was PERFECT oh my god?!

LSD: It's ART is what it is!

Spoderman: don't forget how red the guy was! Kiri was cool as a cucumber but the other guy couldn't stop blushing after seeing his face!!!

MOMo pinned a message

RockSolid: Yaomomo!!!

MOMo: My apologies, Kirishima, but I felt it only right to ensure easy access to your most manly moment.

LSD: Yeah Kiri! Then one day we can all look back on this and celebrate how everything started!!

RockSolid: How what started???

LSD: E v e r y t h i n g

RockSolid: @Spoderman bro hide me I’m scared.

Spoderman: hey guys, wanna see a GREAT video?

Spoderman: the stars are our main man, Kiri, and the bounty!

PikaCHU: hell yeah!!!

Jacked: Lay it on me.

PurpleGrape: Sure.

JazzHands: Do you really have to ask????

RockSolid: but I already told you what happened!

RockSolid: why do you want to see me being so embarrassing?

PikaCHU: bro we all appreciate you so much of course we want to see you being manly!

LSD: Just from what you all said there is no way you don’t look great in that vid, Kiri!

PikaCHU: gotta give support where support is due!!

PurpleGrape: They’ll all bully Sero into showing them one way or another anyways, might as well give in now.

RockSolid: but...

BreadIsPain: Nous devons vous montrer à quel point vous brillez et dissiper ces pensées douteuses!**

MOMo: I could not have said it better myself, Aoyama!

RockSolid: I don’t even know what he said though?!?!?!?!?!?!

Spoderman: Kiri.

Spoderman: Bro.

Jacked: Well shoot he’s using proper grammar and everything.

Spoderman: Rude.

Spoderman: Anyways Bro.

RockSolid: yeah?

Spoderman: You are epic. This video shows you being epic. And putting an asshole in their place.

Spoderman: You have nothing to be ashamed of, and every reason to be proud. So please let me show the video so that everyone can appreciate you like you deserve bro.

RockSolid: bro…

Spoderman: Bro.

RockSolid: bro -

Spoderman: Bro?

RockSolid: bro!

Spoderman: aight everyone down to the common room its up on the big screen

Spoderman: i have popcorn too

Jacked: Not even gonna question that.

LSD: Finally!!!

JazzHands: Yuss!!!

BreadIsPain: Je vais regarder avec enthousiasme!***

MOMo: As will all of us I’m sure, Aoyama!

RockSolid: Thanks guys!

RockSolid: Now get down here and watch me maybe get a man!

Translations:

*so attractive that I almost swooned.

**We must show you how much you shine, and dispel those self-doubting thoughts!

***I shall excitedly watch!

Guide to names:

GreenGrape - Izuku

PurpleGrape - Hitoshi

CopyCat - Monoma Neito

MOMo - Yaoyorozu Momo

datBoi - Asui Tsuyu

JazzHands - Hagakure Toru

NYOOM - Iida Tenya

SnowWhite - Kouda Kouji

LifeIsPain - Tokoyami Fumikage

BreadIsPain - Aoyama Yuga

Kirby - Uraraka Ochaco

LSD - Ashido Mina

PikaCHU - Kaminari Denki

RockSolid - Kirishima Eijiro

RipHarambe - Ojiro Mashirao

IcyHot - Todoroki Shoto

MuffinMan - Sato Rikido

Octodad - Shouji Mezou

Jacked - Jirou Kyoka

Spoderman - Sero Hanta

#my writing #boku no hero academia #BNHA #fanfic #humor #kiribaku #chat fic #inspired by fanfiction #my hero academia au #my hero academia #crack fic #just slightly #had to redo the formatting because Tumblr removed it :/#probably ooc but oh well I tried and had fun

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

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FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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@sicktember Prompt # 28: Missing Out

Title: Unforgettable

Fandom: N/A

Based on this post as well as an ask box prompt. The prompt: “I’m currently dying for something set in a big house (any period) and the young master of the house has a party to attend but he feels awful and is trying to hide it and be a good host but keeps having to sneak off to cough/sneeze. Until maybe one guest notices and that’s how he meets his future wife.”

A young heir attends a Christmas party with his childhood friend as his date. They find themselves in an interesting position when he falls ill.

CW: Vomiting.

(Author's note: Never written this time period before, but I would like to again in the future! I really enjoyed this prompt. And yes these two are definitely in love and will be married someday.)

The year is 1927, and two young men are seated in the back corner of a jazz club in New England, talking little as they sit, enjoying the music. As the band finishes their opening set and prepares to take a break, the older of the two men takes a deep drag from his cigarette, then glances at his companion.

"All ready for your parents' big Christmas shindig next weekend, Jesse?"

Jesse rolled his eyes and scoffed, tapping a cigarette of his own out of the pack. "Sure John, of course. It's such a thrill to be a captive audience as they get smoked and strut around peacocking for their friends. Highlight of my whole year, that. Masquerade Ball, my ass. What drivel."

John chuckled, reclining back in his chair and taking another drag. "You're expected to bring a dame too, yeah?"

"Naturally. It'd be too bad for the heir of the Hamilton fortune to attend without a looker, wouldn't it? Shame all the women in this town are abhorrent."

John shook his head with another chuckle. "That attitude is why you're a perpetual bachelor, hombre. But I have some news that may interest you. Did you know Miss Greenwood is back in town?"

Jesse's interest was piqued in spite of himself. "Lillian Greenwood is back?"

"The very same. Home from university for the holidays."

Jesse leaned back in his chair, trying to look unbothered. "So what if she is. What's it to me?"

"Well I dunno, only that you might like to invite her to the Masq’. If memory serves, you never found her particularly abhorrent."

"We were kids!"

"You were damn near inseparable. You don't *have* to do anything, Jess. But as your oldest friend, I'm asking you to think on it. You'd enjoy the party more if you had company, and I'm sure she'd like to see her old stomping grounds again. Just something to consider is all."

Jesse made no reply as the band resumed the stage just then, but he did indeed think on it very hard.

***

John's information was proven true only a day later. Jesse was just exiting a drugstore he frequented with a fresh carton of cigarettes when he caught the eye of Lillian Greenwood, who was just about to enter the same store, and looking very fetching in a blue fitted coat and hat. Both their eyes widened in surprise upon seeing each other, and for a moment they were speechless.

"Jesse?" Lillian finally said, a slow grin spreading over her face, so familiar to him. "It's been at least an age!" She seized his hands in hers, reaching up on tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. "How are you? I've missed you!"

"Lil!" He wrapped her in a hug. "I've missed you too! What are you doing back in this dump, accomplished University woman that you are now? I'm surprised you didn't run in the opposite direction from here a long time ago."

"Well I haven't graduated yet, silly. And I couldn't miss another Christmas at home. I missed everyone here so much. Oh Jesse, it's so good to see you!" She hugged him fiercely again. "You must tell me everything you've been up to! Come inside while I shop before we freeze."

He willingly followed her back in, looking fondly at the soft brown hair brushing across her shoulders. He was so sick of the horrid bobs all the girls were wearing, and he loved that Lillian was still wearing hers longer.

He trailed her through the whole store, gamely answering the barrage of questions she directed at him, but mostly content to enjoy her familiar presence. Eventually she stopped short, turning to face him.

"Are you all right? You're very quiet. You've hardly said anything."

"I'm sorry. Just worn out I guess. Been working extra before the holidays."

"You are looking a bit peaky. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jabber your ear off."

"No it's fine, honest. I'm just happy to see you."

"Likewise." She gave his hand a little squeeze, accompanied by a warm smile. Knowing he wasn't going to get a better opportunity, he took a deep breath.

"Lilli, do you remember that big bash my parents host every year for Christmas?"

"Oh yes!" she said, her eyes lighting up in pleasure. "It was my favorite part of the holidays!"

"No kidding? Well anyway, they still throw it. The last few years they changed it to a Masquerade Ball, but otherwise it's still just like it was. It's a week from Saturday. I know you just got into town and all, and maybe you already have plans… but what do you think about going with me as my date?"

Lillian's grin was immediate, and she clasped her hands together joyfully. "Oh Jess, I'd love that! Just like old times."

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to smile. "Yeah, I guess. Same old dumb party. Like I said, if you're busy, don't worry about it. But you're welcome to come… if you want and all."

She looked confused and a little hurt at his abrupt backtracking. "Of course I want to come. I'll be there."

"Great. I better get going though. I'll call you in a few days to give you the details. It was great to see you, Lil." He pecked her on the cheek. "I'll see you around, kid."

He strode out of the store with hardly a backwards glance, leaving her shocked face in his wake. He hated himself for behaving that way, and he wasn't even sure why he did it. Perhaps it was because the "old times" she was referring to included the present he was stuck in, while she had clearly moved on. Perhaps it was the realization that he had resorted to asking his childhood best friend on a date rather than finding a real date to avoid the embarrassment of attending his parents' party unaccompanied. But whatever the reason, speaking to her had made him equal parts thrilled and miserable. Surprisingly, when he called her a few days later as promised, she again agreed to accompany him, despite his rude behavior in the drug store, and continued to insist she was excited for the party, despite his constant negativity towards it.

***

The Saturday before Christmas dawned bright and snowy, and the Hamilton estate was in an uproar all day with last-minute preparations. Every surface was bedecked for the holidays with ribbons and garlands and tinsel and wreaths and holly and candles. A Christmas tree stood in every room, making the whole house aromatic, each twinkling and topped with a star. When evening rolled in, so too did the guests, all as twinkling and bedecked as the house, filling every room in no time. The Masquerade Ball had begun.

Lillian arrived promptly. Jesse met her in the foyer. Even wearing a mask, she was easily recognizable. She looked stunning in a sparkling gown that accented her figure perfectly. Her eyes were a color that would be easier called unique than pretty, her nose a touch irregular, and her teeth a touch crooked, but Jesse had always found her beautiful. Yet he was in a foul temper, and had been the whole day, and seeing her gave him little pleasure. He noted she had pinned up her hair so it appeared “bobbed” like everyone else's, and even such a simple thing soured his mood further. Upon seeing her initially, he took her hand and kissed it, then gave a sarcastic bow.

“Welcom, Lillian dear. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil

She curtsied daintily, smiling warmly. “The pleasure is all mine. You look very dashing and alluring in that mask.”

He chucked coldly. “You’re looking spiffy yourself, kid. Well, shall we get on with it?” He offered her his arm, which she took, almost hesitantly.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem… not yourself.”

“Fine and dandy. Ready to cut a rug and show a girl a good time. Let’s not keep the evening waiting.” He didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his tone, but continued to tug her toward the dining room, albeit gently. She reluctantly followed, casting him worried glances.

The young Master Hamilton performed his part admirably through the whole evening, however, donning the persona of the host as easily as he did his mask. He chatted and danced and flirted with the appropriate people, giving Lilli adequate attention as required as well. His mother must have been pleased, for the night was a smashing success, from the dinner to the dancing to the decor. Everyone was raving the whole evening about what a splendid party it was. The best one yet, everyone said, just as they said every year.

Jesse, however, was utterly miserable. The bodies packing every room made him too warm, the lights were too bright, the music and din of talking made his head throb, the food smells turned his stomach, and the aroma of pine everywhere left him feeling on the verge of a sneeze all night, especially since his nose had been on the verge of dripping since he awoke. He could only nibble the rich supper. He was barely able to swallow even small sips of Christmas punch without feeling the urge to gag.

In order to keep his sanity, whenever Lillian was occupied talking to someone and he wasn't otherwise engaged, he would duck into one of the unused side parlors. In this sanctuary, away from the lights and sounds and smells, he removed his mask and composed himself. He would first allow himself to sneeze unhindered, finally able to stop his incessant stifling and sniffling, each time surprising himself at how wet and messy and ill they sounded. Then, if he hadn't been gone too long, he would rest his face against the icy window pane, breathing slowly and deeply as a halo of condensation spread out from his hot forehead. Inevitably though, the time would come when he was forced to replace his mask and reenter the ball before he was missed. He counted down the hours desperately, willing himself to last until the end of the party.

The evening began to wind down, and Jesse found himself ducking away more and more frequently. His stomach was in knots and his nausea was gradually rising, so composure was getting harder to maintain. He always checked to ensure Lilli was involved in a conversation before he did so, however. Imagine his surprise then, when moments after he snuck into his sanctuary yet again, he heard the door open after him and Lillian appeared just as he had given over to a violent sneezing jag:

Hiihhh'GEHSSSH'ieeew! ESSSHH'yuuh! Hrrr'USH'IIEWW! Kuhh-hhiiih-ISSSHYUUH!"

"Bless you, Jesse! Heavens, that was a fit! Are you alright?" she asked, approaching him and removing her own mask. "Have you been sneezing like that all night? You keep disappearing."

He flashed the most winning smile he could muster even as he wiped the mess from his face. "I'm just ducky," he said, swallowing thickly as his stomach also decided to give a nasty lurch. "All the pine in the air gets me sneezing. Must be a bit allergic. Sorry for worrying you. Let's go back out before we're missed. I think I owe you a dance or two."

She ignored his rambling and came to stand directly in front of him with a searching look. She lifted a hand and brought the back of it to his sweaty forehead. She clucked softly.

"You're sick, aren't you? You're not feeling well at all."

The thin facade that was holding him together finally crumbled. He limply leaned against the wall, nodding mutely.

"Why didn't you say something? You should be in bed. You look awful."

"I didn't want to spoil the evening," he mumbled.

"Well we need to get you out of here. You look like you're about to collapse."

"I am about to collapse," he said ruefully.

"Come on then. No one will miss us anyway. Let's go up the servants' steps over here so we're not seen."

"I don't want you to miss out on the ball. You looked like you were having fun."

She caressed his cheek fondly. "I came here tonight to spend time with you. I'm not missing out on anything."

They shared a smile, his first genuine one of the night. Then she took him by the hand and led him expertly along the least conspicuous route to his bedroom. The pair of them had spent hours exploring every inch of this house from top to bottom as children, every cupboard, cranny, and corner. He hadn't forgotten those times, and clearly she hadn't either.

It was strange bringing her back to his room. They had spent hours together here too during their growing-up years. He couldn't help but imagine it through her eyes--what was different, what was the same. He realized bitterly that the only thing that was really different was the lack of toys and games everywhere. His room was a reflection of his life--boring and stagnant.

If she was thinking along those lines, she gave no indication. Instead she led him to his bed with a hand at the small of his back, guiding him into a sitting position and helping him remove his jacket and tie. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and heat rolled off of him in waves. The drier air up here made him begin to cough as soon as he sat, the sound hoarse and desperate. She made a sympathetic sound as she carded her fingers through his damp hair, then dug through his dresser, pulling out a set of his pajamas and tossing them over.

"Make yourself more comfortable, and I'll do the same." She headed to his en suite bathroom. "I'll be right back. Try to relax, Jess." She gave him a little smile, which he attempted to return, a hand going to his sore stomach even as he did.

Once the bathroom door was closed behind her, he slowly changed into his pajama bottoms and managed to strip down to his undershirt. All at once, his stomach had had enough, and he knew he was going to vomit. With the bathroom occupied, the next available option was the balcony off of his room. He dashed outside to the railing, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground below, heaving until he had nothing left. As the spasms slowed, his vision began to go gray and wobbly. He sank to his knees weakly, unable to do anything else, clinging to the railing in the freezing cold, which at first felt pleasant on his fevered skin.

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, and it would have been even longer had Lillian not come out to find him. By the time she did, he was shivering so violently that his teeth rattled in his head. She was speaking to him, but he couldn't register what she was saying. Finally she pulled him bodily to his feet and helped him inside, her arm wrapped around his waist as she supported most of his weight. She again led him to his bed, making him lie down this time and bundling blankets over his icy cold skin while she sat at his side. His consciousness solidified and the world stopped spinning, and eventually he noticed that while she was still wearing her party dress, she had removed her makeup and unpinned her hair, looking more like her old self. The thought made him marginally warmer.

"Let me go fetch some tea for you, and some medicine," she murmured, stroking his hair. She stood and tried to pull away, but he quickly grabbed her wrist, his grasp surprisingly strong.

"Don't go," he rasped, choking back a cough. "I don't want tea or medicine. It'll only make me vomit again. Just stay."

"Stay…" she repeated. "Right. I suppose I could stay."

She went to pull a chair to his bedside, but he stopped her.

"No, come lie here with me."

"Jesse…" she began. "That's not--"

"Why shouldn't you? You were my date. It's what everyone is expecting anyway," he said, a glint of humor in his eye.

She laughed in spite of herself. "I suppose there is that." Against her better judgement, she crossed to the other side of his bed and slipped under the blankets, trying to be mindful of her dress as she got comfortable. He immediately rolled over and nestled against her, and she wrapped an arm around him and began to rub his back soothingly.

They passed the night exactly like that. He was exhausted and very ill, and was clearly miserable the whole night through. However, he refused to let her leave the bed to fetch him anything and only wanted to lie against her all night as he slipped in and out of sleep. She vaguely recalled him being the same way when they were young, but she certainly hadn't expected such behavior tonight. Then again, she hadn't expected to be sharing his bed either.

He slept fitfully, his symptoms keeping him from true rest despite his weariness. Away from the pine trees his sneezing was less, but the congestion and coughing was worse. He was achy and nauseous and too hot or too cold. He also wanted to be touching her at all times, so she slept even less, for between his tossing and groaning and his sweltering fever heat, she could not get comfortable. Yet she knew he needed her this way tonight, and was glad to be able to help her oldest friend.

The morning dawned gray and cold. Lillian lay awake still, while Jesse was at last sleeping beside her, his face tucked into her side. She was trying to decide how best to convince him to let her go home and change when an opportunity for escape presented itself in the form of his mother.

Lillian heard her well before she saw her, for her best shoes clattered loudly on the stairs, and her inebriated giggling and whispering was impossible to miss. It was almost certain she hadn't gone to bed after the party. Lillian quickly slipped out from under Jesse's arm and slid to the floor, ducking under the bed. Just because Jesse seemed to think she was expected to spend the night with him did not mean she wanted to be caught in it, especially by Mrs. Hamilton, regardless of what did or did not happen.

Mrs. Hamilton attempted to be stealthy as she peeked into her son's room, but only his fever-induced slumber prevented him from waking. However, even while intoxicated, what they say about a mother's sense is true, for she apparently noted something amiss and crept closer to her son's bed. Lillian could only see her feet and legs, but she assumed she Mrs. Hamilton reached out to feel her son's forehead, for the elder woman made a little sound of dismay and began to shake him awake.

"Jesse, you're burning up! Oh my, what happened? Are you sick? Did it start at the ball? How long have you not felt well? Oh you're so pale! And you're shivering! My poor baby! What can I do?..." It seemed she had no end of exclamations and questions. Lillian couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Meanwhile Jesse made sounds of waking, sounding very irritated and confused at first. He didn't realize what was happening initially, and Lillian heard him say her name more than once. Thankfully his mother did not notice over the sound of her own constant flow of verbalized concern. Eventually Jesse realized who was speaking to him and began to give appropriate answers, leaving Lillian out of most of it, which the young woman appreciated.

Mrs. Hamilton didn't stop speaking the entire time she was in the room. Eventually though it became clear she intended to fetch a doctor, tea, medicine, and one hundred other things for her son's illness. Jesse spoke only as much as he had to, his voice weak and hoarse and congested. He did not argue with her about any of it, knowing it was futile. Finally the well-meaning woman left, still talking even as she shut the door behind herself.

Lillian gingerly rolled out from under the bed, startling Jesse when she appeared beside him out of nowhere. However a grin split his face when their eyes met.

"I thought you left me without saying goodbye," he rasped.

"Well now you see I haven't. I do need to leave now though, before your mother returns with an army of doctors and finds me here. I would also like to change my clothes at some point and freshen up. Perhaps take a bit of a nap."

He looked devastated at this, but perked up as she continued:

"I'll come back soon though, as a proper visitor. I don't fancy ducking under the bed whenever anyone comes up the stairs."

"All right," he sighed. "I'll be waiting for you, then."

She approached him, pressing her lips to his hair as he hugged her fiercely.

"Be well, Jess. I'll see you soon." She moved to the doorway, her eyes twinkling in a smile. "And thanks for a great night. That was a date I'll never forget."

#sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #sicktember2021 #prompt 28

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adenei · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Hermione is tired of journalists so she says to them she and Ron are not really a couple(in a ironic way) but the article the next day doesn't talk about her obvious irony. She is Now scared of consequences

Hey anon! Thanks for the ask

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

Post War: The Interview

Hermione was reading the article that was published in the newest Witch Weekly. Kingsley had suggested that she take the interviews. It could potentially help her get her name out there and help her in her goals to do some good within the ministry, especially as she was just starting her career. So she’d taken the interview with Witch Weekly, thinking they’d ask her questions about choosing to go back to Hogwarts and finish her education, or how she was settling into her new role at the Ministry. What policies she was hoping to overturn or instate.

And sure, the interview had started out that way, but then they’d turned to questions about Harry and Ron, and a potential love triangle that was completely absurd. Hermione had had it with the questions, and finally she’d just started answering them with heavy sarcasm to get the interviewer off her back. She seemed pleased for the most part that the questions that mattered were there, and prided herself on the issues that were being addressed. Until...oh no.

Ella Higgensworth, reporter: Ms. Granger, we’ve recently heard rumors of a love triangle between you, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter that occurred when you were on the run during the height of the Second Wizarding War. Do you have any comments on this?

Hermione Granger: Are those rumors still happening? They’re completely unfounded.

EH: Well, if you had to choose between Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter, who would you choose?

HG: (laughs) Harry, of course. Honestly, are you really asking me that question?

EH: Wow, but I thought that you were seeing Mr. Weasley? Our correspondents said they’ve seen you in public and you seem quite happy with each other.

HG: Oh, well, yes of course! But if the readers want some juicy gossip, then there it is. Heaven forbid we live a normal, happy life together.

EH: Well, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Granger. You’ve given our readers much to mull over.

HG: Thank you for having me!

-end interview-

“Oh, no no no no, this is not good,” Hermione immediately got up from her desk. She checked the clock on the wall. It was 6:00, and she should have been at the Burrow a half hour ago. Molly had insisted everyone come over for dinner that night to celebrate Hermione’s interview in the magazine. “Shit,” Hermione said. She never swore, but this was bad.

She didn’t even bother walking to the floo, and apparated straight to the Burrow’s garden. Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself for who knew what on the other side of the door. When she walked in, Molly greeted her as normal as any other time.

“Oh, good you’re finally here, dear! Congratulations on your interview!” Molly swept her up in a tight hug. Hermione was confused. “What’s wrong, dear? You look ill, is everything alright?”

“What, oh, no, I-” and then it dawned on her. “You haven’t read the article yet, have you?” Mrs. Weasley shook her head and Hermione looked to everyone else at the table. “Has anyone read it yet?”

Everyone shook their heads, and George said, “I think Ron has. Where is he anyways? Said he was going to the loo, but he hasn’t been back in a while. Should probably go check to make sure everything’s coming out okay.” He sniggered at his own joke, but Hermione barely heard it.

“Whatever you do, don’t read that article. That bimbo of a reporter took my sarcasm for sincerity and now the whole wizarding world is going to think I’d rather be shacking up with Harry than Ron.” Hermione pressed her hand to her face and ran her fingers through her already wild hair.

“Excuse me, but did I just hear you correctly, Hermione,” Ginny asked.

“Yes, but I don’t have time to explain. It was meant to be a joke!” Hermione took off up the stairs without further explanation as everyone began tearing into the copies they’d brought with them.

The loo was empty, so Hermione kept on up the stairs until she was at Ron’s childhood bedroom. The door was shut, indicating he was probably in there. Hermione didn’t bother knocking as she opened the door and entered. He was sitting on his bed, the magazine next to him.

“Harry’s downstairs, y’know, though Ginny might be a bit peeved that you’re trying to steal him from her,” Ron said with a sullen face. He wouldn’t even look at her.

“Damnit, Ron, you don’t honestly believe-” and then Hermione saw it. He looked up at her with the biggest shit-eating grin and smirk she’d ever seen.

“Of course I don’t believe it. Maybe the me from a couple years ago would have, but I know you don’t think about Harry that way. ‘Sides, Ginny would hex you before I even got a chance to talk to you if that were the case.”

“Wait, you mean, you don’t- Oh, thank God,” Hermione said, completely relieved.

Ron stood up and walked over to her, enveloping her in his arms. “Course I don’t. I remember how frustrated you were when you came home and were talking about it.”

“Then why were you up here and not downstairs when I got here?” Hermione asked him.

Ron shrugged. “Dunno, just wanted a few minutes alone with you before you’re the center of attention all night.”

“You really had me worried.” Hermione said as she looked into his eyes.

“Sorry, love.”

“You know it’s always been you, right? No matter what anyone says.”

“Yeah. Same for me,” Ron said as he kissed her. “I’m impressed, though. I don’t think I could have played off that level of absurdity for them to take and run with.”

“Honestly, Ron, they’re reporters. They’ll do anything for gossip.”

“Well, shall we go take on the gossip wheel downstairs?” He asked her.

“Do we have to?” Hermione pouted.

“You’re the one who gave the interview, now you have to suffer the consequences,” Ron said as he chuckled. He took her hand and led her down the stairs to face the family.

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skypagex · 3 years

Text

let me see you get yourself out of this situation

aka three unlikely allies ditch detention and go on an adventure

word count: 2320

trigger warnings: stds (aids mention), drugs, nsfw mention

Okay, so maybe the detention is fully deserved. Sky probably shouldn’t have hotboxed his bedroom and expected to get away with it. In fact, he was pretty lucky to get away with detention, although he suspects that’s related to his mother’s call to the school and probable sizeable donation. (He should never have texted her. He knows that’s a bad idea. Thanks for the soccer team uniforms or whatever, mom.)

But regardless of how much he deserves to be in detention, he can still think of about a billion things he’d rather do than come into an almost empty room to the sight of Jack fucking Kelly (or is it Fielding? To be honest, he remains wilfully oblivious to the Jack updates. Like if he ignores him he’ll cease to exist) sprawled across the back row of seats with a smirk on his lips that so obviously says that this is his domain and Sky is trespassing. As if he owns the whole fucking room.

(Knowing Jack, he probably thinks he does. Not that Sky has had much personal contact with the boy besides an odd rumour that he died. But the boy’s reputation seems to carry through the school like a biblical plague of locusts. And besides, Sky’s friendship with Juliet gives him equal parts way too much information about Jack’s personal habits and currently, post break up, far more information about how disgustingly horrible he is. Either way, he’s well aware that there’s a sizeable ego present. He’s almost jealous, to be honest. Sometimes Sky feels like if he had Jack’s ego he’d probably be a rock star already.)

Still, he’s hoping that maybe he can pass under the radar of the British boy long enough to make it through at least half of the detention, maybe more, considering that the teacher has already apparently left - probably done with the delinquents before having even begun to lecture them on their crimes - so if Jack so much as starts a conversation Sky’s pretty sure there’s nothing present to hold him back from absolutely verbally annihilating Sky, which will therefore mean there’s nothing present to hold Sky back from tears and public humiliation. It’s hard being a crybaby, you know?

Such hopes are almost immediately dashed when Jack turns and gives Sky the most ravenous look he’s ever seen another human come up with, like Jack is starving and Sky is a walking hamburger about to satiate him. Yum.

“Pagey,” well there’s a nickname Sky didn’t know he had, and to be honest it makes him feel slightly nauseous even knowing that Jack has whole separate nicknames for him that he doesn’t even know about. How the fuck does Jack know everyone at the fucking school anyway? “How’d you end up here? Cried so much you flooded your bedroom?”

(Which would be insulting enough even if it wasn’t a plausible suggestion and didn’t need the rude addition of Jack proceeding to laugh at his own joke.)

Fortunately Sky’s saved from the perils of having to answer the question by the slamming of the door, which indicates the arrival of a third addition to the detention squad: a blonde girl, he thinks he’s seen her in a shared class (Helena or something along those lines, definitely the same name as a My Chemical Romance song since he remembers thinking that at registration) and a disgusted look upon her face as she has the same realisation as Sky upon seeing Jack’s face: that they are well and truly fucked.

“God,” Helena (if that’s really her name, Sky hopes it is because he suspects from her demeanour that she’s not the type to take a misnaming incident lightly) “was detention itself not punishment enough? Are they truly going to make me look at your ratty little face for an entire forty five minutes? I feel ill just thinking about it,” she placed a hand over her chest as if the sight of Jack was causing her physical pain. Relatable, to be honest.

“I know,” and in that moment Sky feels more grateful than ever because it’s clear from Jack’s tone of voice that his admirably short attention span has now passed Sky straight over in favour of a pretty worthy opponent. “You really should complain, love. Like, how is getting to look at me for free a fucking punishment? It’s like getting to go into the Tate Modern for nothing.”

“The Tate Modern is already free,” Sky says helpfully. He is ignored.

“Your confidence,” Helena blasts back, “is truly insane considering how absolutely disgusting your physical appearance is. Have you considered being committed to a mental asylum at any point?”

“I would,” Jack counters, “but how could I? When the population of Luxor would just pine for me. Nothing would be interesting if I left.”

“Contrary to your totally unfounded belief, not everything in this school involves you.”

“Possibly,” the boy reasons, and then the smirk returns. “But you have to admit the majority of things do.”

Seemingly done with the conversation, Helena stomps over to the desk next to Sky and sets her things down. Her meaning is pretty clear to him: you’ll do, in comparison to being sat next to rat man.

The ticking of the clock succeeds in covering for their lack of conversation for all of about five minutes before Jack apparently just cannot keep words in his own head anymore and has to interrupt the perfectly nice silence again: “so how did you end up in detention, princess? Kiss a frog?”

“I don’t recall having any physical relations with you,” Helena says haughtily. “If I did, I can assure you I must have been under some sort of influence unwillingly and therefore I shall be suing imminently. And if you must know, I am being unfairly victimised for skipping my medieval lecture for a perfectly valid reason.”

“To get a nose job?” Jack asks innocently, “or was it Botox?”

That elicits a slight smile from Sky, which reminds the other two that he does in fact exist and it’s almost funny the way they both turn to face him as Jack continues his questioning, “what about you, Pagey?”

“Uh,” his mouth goes dry and he gulps, “weed… stuff,” he finishes lamely, shrugging as if that’s completely self explanatory. It should be. He damn well hopes it is, because frankly Sky does not have the strength to take part in this conversation and he’s really hoping that Helena can carry the anti Jack side of it without him. “You?” He asks hopefully, as if turning the conversation back to Jack will immediately throw him out of it and he can go back to his people watching.

“Oh, I jumped out a window,” Jack says airily, apparently oblivious to the looks of total confusion both Sky and Helena give him. The resulting silence proceeds to allow the clock ticking to become audible again.

“Are you seriously telling me,” Helena asks after about ten minutes have past and Sky can just about see Jack, out of the corner of his eye, beginning to meticulously colour in something which looks suspiciously like a poster, “that I have woken up today and willingly come to this godforsaken room and sat in the company of absolute dimwits and the teacher in charge is not even going to deign to show up?”

“Sometimes they just don’t,” Jack shrugs as if this is a usual occurrence. “Especially if they see me on the list.”

“Can’t blame them for that,” Helena mutters.

“Well, it would be hard not to treat me like the god I am. Can’t be unfair to the other students.” He grins. “Nah, guess they get lazy. I dunno. Most of the time I just leave.”

“Well that’s a wasted day of mine then.” She scowls. “Don’t they know time is money? Although I do have plenty of both.”

“That was the most ungraceful segway into a brag I have ever heard,” Jack observes, “and this is coming from me.”

“What can I say? I’m pretty, it allows for more leeway.”

She actually gets a laugh out of Jack from that, and it kind of fascinates Sky. Partly because he’s always assumed that Jack was more aggressive. He gets into enough fights for that. But he seems more… amused than anything else by the back and forth. Like he’s less of a punching devil and more of the type of person to push buttons out of enjoyment and amusement. He supposes that’s one way to get out of boredom.

“Hey, crybaby,” he’s so caught up in psychoanalysing the other two that he doesn’t realise for a minute that Jack is addressing him, and before he can say anything the other boy is waving a hand in front of his face. (He flinches back, predictably. God, he’s always so fucking predictable.) “You got any weed?” Jack asks, his face inches from Sky’s, close enough that Sky can see a stray eyelash on his cheek (would it be ridiculous to point it out considering that Jack would undoubtedly take that as Sky confessing his undying love for him?) and the freckles littering his cheeks.

“Uh.” Truthfully, Sky’s pretty sure this is going to end in him having to share so he’s really not willing to answer, but he’s never been good at lying so instead Jack gets a slow nod by way of response.

“Well there we fucking go,” Jack takes a step back thankfully, so he’s no longer close enough that Sky can literally smell whatever cologne he puts on (ugh, straight men) and glances back at Helena, gesturing wildly to Sky. “Don’t have to be a fucking waste of your day, princess. Or are you too good to come smoke a joint with me and Page?”

“My name’s Sky,” Sky offers. He is ignored.

“As long as nobody sees us,” Helena sniffs, but she gets up all the same, sliding her things into her bag. “And for the record, I’m a Queen, not a princess. I understand that your male mind finds words difficult though,” she adds with a condescending smile.

“I’m the British one,” Jack argues. “I’d know about fucking Queens.”

“I’m literally half English, you absolute cretin. My surname is literally Spencer. Like Princess fucking Diana? Ring any bells?”

“Nah,” Jack says with absolute conviction, “her surname was Wales.”

“No she was the Princess of Wal- oh my god,” Helena rolls her eyes with such energy that Sky is amazed that her eye muscles don’t straight up propel her out of the door. “Sky, can you please back me up?”

“I’m from Chicago,” Sky says helplessly, and gets two very dirty looks as they leave the classroom.

“I’d suck your dick,” he’s lost count of how many hits he’s in and the rooftop is starting to take on a hazy quality, which Sky attributes to the fact that he’s actually confident enough to laugh out loud at Jack’s comment, leaning back and looking up at the sky, “no you wouldn’t.”

“Sure I would,” Jack insists. “I’d try anything fucking once. And I never sucked a dick. Maybe it’s my fucking talent.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sky’s words are coming out sing song and he lays back on the roof now, shaking his head still, “you’re such a straight boy it’s not even funny. Straight, straight, straight,” he takes a long drag on the joint and holds it out between two fingers to Helena, who is giving both of them another disgusted glare.

“Two boys talking about their penises. Exactly the company I desired. Not.”

“We could talk about vagina instead,” Jack offers diplomatically, so Sky mimes gagging. “Yeah, okay crybaby. We get it. You patented the fuck a boy at church camp vibe, we understand.”

“I didn’t fuck a boy at church camp,” Sky says indignantly.

“No, he probably fucked you,” Helena hisses.

“I thought you were too good for this conversation,” Jack observes.

“Do you see another conversation happening?”

“You could just shut up.”

“And let your disgusting accent ring in my ears? Horrific.”

“My accent is sexy.”

“I like Kai’s more,” Sky gets a glare from both of them for that. Oops. Supposes that’s what he gets for interrupting the bickering. “Yours is fine too,” he says quickly.

“God, just take a side,” Helena mutters. “It’s fine to admit Rat sounds like a coal miner, you know?”

“Isn’t that a bit….” Sky searches for the word. “Classist?”

“No, it’s a fact. Anyway,’ she points to Jack accusingly, “he didn’t even know Princess Diana’s surname. So his national pride is absolutely a farce.”

“She died in like, nineteen ninety whatever? That’s old news,” Jack argues.

“She,” Helena says hotly, “remains an international style icon.”

“Can we get back to vagina and/or dick yet?” Jack enquires hopefully. Sky resumes the pretend gagging.

“You become more disgusting with every waking moment,” she mutters under her breath. But Jack will probably take that as a compliment either way. “And I need to go.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” Jack looks up to bat his eyelashes at the girl, resulting in her flipping him off.

“I think I would miss the dog shit I stepped in more than you,” Helena informs him, before glancing at Sky. “You, though. We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

He gives her a confused look.

“You have potential,” she decides. “Like style wise. As an aesthetic and thankfully quiet sidekick.” He can take that. “Like a Harry Styles vibe but unattractive.”

Okay, Sky’s starting to regret listening.

“Or Timothée Chalamet minus the bone structure and redeemable features.”

He really regrets listening now.

“Doesn’t Timothée Champagne have chlamydia?” Jack asks with a gleeful smile.

“Didn’t everyone say you have AIDS?” Helena snaps. “Goodbye, male specimens. It is starting to rain and this blouse is vintage.”

#self para #sky & jack #sky & helena #unedited soz for typos

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pippki-writes · 3 years

Text

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 4

NOTES:

Snippet 1

Snippets 2 & 3

Features lyrics from Danny Schmidt’s “This Too Shall Pass”

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him, the healer (whose contribution I summarized in this snippet, I don’t think she comes up again much for our murderboy here so I didn’t go too in depth with her) - everyone else is mine.

Longer post, 8,066 words folks! Buckle up.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

The name is like an ill-fitting coat, but it’s either wear it, or go naked in the cold, metaphorically speaking. He knows Faoust will kill him, but he’s not dead yet.

The officer sitting outside the room tilts her chair back on its legs, in one ear her radio turned low and largely ignored, holding her phone out playing music and keeping her other ear tilted to the room and its occupant for signs of life. He listens to the music coming from her phone:

We think too big

We think our self is one whole thing

And we claim that this collection

Has a name and is a being

But deep inside

When every cell divides

Well, it sets upon the rule that states

Self-interest is divine

He scrapes out an involuntary cough, and the officer lets her chair fall forward as she twists to check on him.

She tries to interrogate him, but he can’t talk, and only whispers “no.” He writes on her notepad, “I’m expecting a visitor,” and refuses to communicate further. His intuition is that Faoust will come here for him eventually, though he doesn’t know how long Faoust will let him live. Maybe Faoust won’t come while he’s in the hospital. But hovering over the edge of the pain, death feels certain and he knows where it will come from.

Finally, a visitor arrives. He hears the footsteps approaching, certainly heavier than any of the nurses that have tended to him, and the sound of a respectful shuffling in place, acknowledging the officer guarding his hospital room.

A familiar voice speaks. “Hey. I’m here to see my friend Asmodai, officer…?”

He can hear the sound of the officer crossing her arms, but she neither gets up nor offers her name. “Don’t suppose you might be able to tell me what the hell happened to him and how he ended up here?”

“Nah, wish I could. Is he ok?”

“He’s not in great shape. I’m not a doctor but he’s bad off. And not the kind of bad off that happens accidentally.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Almost as crazy as whoever did this. You don’t have any ideas?”

“Nah. I’m not really an ideas guy. Just a guy who worries about my friends. Can I go see him or...?”

The officer gives a defeated little grunt. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead. We can talk later.”

Dorien walks into the room as though he belongs there. Machines. IVs. In the middle of the room, bed propped up, staring at him, there’s that bastard Asmodai. Dorien takes a moment to breathe, staring back, looking angry. Dorien reminds himself why he is here. Not to kill him. Not to bring retribution. Just information to help Faoust. He clenches and unclenches his hands.

It takes Dorien a moment to realize what Asmodai is doing. The slight, strange sound, chest heaving—he is, very quietly, laughing.

He hasn’t come to terms with how to refer to himself—he is no more Isaiah than he was Asmodai, but he supposes, out of respect for the wish of a self who once knew what it wanted, he will call himself Isaiah until it fits. Or until he’s dead.

Isaiah laughs until the sound breaks into a cough. For starters, this was not the visitor he was expecting. And he can see why he would have been drawn to Dorien. Tall, dark-haired, handsome, and vulnerable. So many of his favorite things. The wizard Asmodai, before he stole his name, had been much the same.

Dorien keeps himself in check, and comes closer to the bedside. He doesn’t want the officer to hear him.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Dorien growls quietly.

Isaiah frowns. Talking will be an effort. He can’t even breathe too deeply, thanks to Dorien’s best attempts to slowly crush his ribs the other night after what he tried to do to Faoust. This is merely a fact—he doesn’t feel particular malice over it. He tries to choose his words carefully, so as not to waste them. There’s no volume, only whispering, but even the whispers are so resolute, so final. The playfulness of Asmodai is gone.

“Too much...to explain. What ...do you want...to know?”

Dorien folds his arms, lest he be tempted to do anything. “C’mon, what do you think I’d be here wanting to know. The magic-blocking cuffs. How do we take them off? Where’s the key?”

Isaiah shakes his head. “Didn’t get...a key. Wouldn’t...have wanted it.”

Dorien glares down at the bastard who nearly succeeded at killing the love of his life, and proceeds to try to get information out of him while texting Faoust. The conversation is slow going. The answers Dorien gets are halting and unsatisfying.

Faoust texts Dorien: "I want to know what he thinks should happen next."

Dorien looks down at Asmodai. “So what do you think should happen next?”

Isaiah sighs, unfazed. “Talking...not exactly....easy. Paper? Pen? Your phone?”

Dorien looks around for paper. He’s dumb, but not dumb enough to hand over his phone. He finds a notepad and a cheap pen in the desk drawer, and throws them on Asmodai’s lap.

Isaiah scribbles, handwriting messy and difficult on the flimsy pad, “He kills me for what” a scribble then, crossing out an “As,” and the writing resumes, “I’ve done. Why wouldn’t he? It’s inevitable.”

Dorien tears the paper off the notepad and holds it up, taking a picture to send to Faoust. “You’ve really fucked up, Asmodai.”

Isaiah’s mouth twitches a little at the name.

Above the top of the note, in the picture, Faoust can see Asmodai staring at the camera. There is no fear, nothing pathetic in the way he looks. Resolute. Certain. Final.

Faoust frowns. He had hoped for a bit more fight. But this is sort of like putting down a rabid dog at this point. It's not enjoyable for anyone involved.

Faoust: "tell him I'm disappointed that it came to this"

Faoust: "tell him I'll be there soon. As soon as my magic is back"

Dorien reads his phone, and before he can speak another note is being waved at him that reads “tell him come talk to me himself. This is fucking ridiculous.” Dorien sighs and snatches the note, snapping a picture for Faoust. There is a touch of defiance in Isaiah’s eye.

Faoust's lip curls in irritation and a tiny bit of embarrassment. Fine.

Faoust makes his way to the hospital, to the third floor, to the charge nurse.

“Looking for my friend,” says Faoust, “A John Doe?”

The charge nurse points with a pen. “The room with the officer. There’s already a visitor and technically I shouldn’t let too many people visit at once, but you know what? The world is hell. This hospital is hell. Go nuts.”

“Amen,” Faoust replies, heading over to the officer. “Hi, I'm here for my friend. I guess I have to answer questions first?”

The officer squints up at him suspiciously. “Damn, did the city call a prettyboy convention and I missed the memo?” She lets the chair rest back on all four legs. “I dunno, what do you know about what happened to your friend?”

“Not much. We were out partying, I know pandemic and all, but spare me the lecture. I told him goodbye and to call me when he got home but he never did.” Faoust pauses. “I heard he's bad. Maybe a hit and run?”

“Sure. Sure. Right.” The officer eyes him for a moment. “You’re a better liar than your friend. Go on in.”

“Liar? I- ugh. Fine.” He gives up on the officer and goes in the room.

“Alright you piece of shit. I'm here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Isaiah looks at Faoust appreciatively. Yeah, he can see why he did all that shit. He sighs, wishing he could just fucking talk, and settles for hurriedly writing on the notepad.

Dorien mutters softly to Faoust. “He can’t talk..apparently.”

Faoust chuckles a little. “I should expect so.”

Isaiah rips off the note and holds it out. It begins with “A” scratched out and then “I resented the power you had over me. Wanted you to suffer. Wanted to kill you, and Dorien, and take your name, take your power. And didn’t want to kill you. Wanted to fuck and kill with you. Poorer judgment won out. Tried to make you suffer.” He sighs, frustrated at the time it takes to write, already writing on a new note.

Faoust reads the note and sighs. It was just as he thought.

“I wanted to just keep it fun and casual.” Faoust grits out through his teeth, “Why did you have to complicate things?”

Isaiah tosses Faoust a finished note: “No point in apologies. Won’t change what was done. No actions to right it” and starts writing a response to the question, tapping the pen on his chin, thinking.

“Wasn’t as fun fucking and killing without you. Didn’t like that.”

“That's called friendship, you absolute dolt.”

Isaiah pauses, and writes “Asmodai didn’t do well with having friends.”

Faoust runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Wait-Asmodai? Third person? Who the fuck are we talking to then?”

Isaiah makes a face. It’s difficult to explain. He writes. “I am. Was. Asmodai. For too long I think.”

He pauses, rolls his eye. He doesn’t feel like Isaiah either.

“I did what he did. But don’t feel what he felt, anymore. Memories, yes. Feeling? No.”

Faoust pauses. “So is..is Asmodai gone?”

“Depends on what you mean. The me that felt what he—I felt?”

Isaiah makes a quiet frustrated noise and slams the pen down. He is so tired of writing. He jots another note, mindful of trying to do magic around either of them. “Can I try magic on my voice? You mind?”

Faoust shrugs. “Go for it.”

Isaiah holds his right hand around his throat, eye closed. Healing has never been his strong suit, but he knows enough to get by. He just needs to be able to talk. His hand glows faintly.

When he speaks, his voice is rough, not much volume to it but it’s more than a whisper.

“If I don’t feel the things I felt when I called myself Asmodai, am I Asmodai?”

Faoust thinks. This complicates matters. “I'll be frank. If I were to leave you be, what would you do? Don't lie to me.”

“I would leave you alone.” Isaiah shrugs. “The things I ...Asmodai...I felt, I know them. Factually. I don’t feel them anymore.” He looks at Faoust sharply. “But I am responsible for what I did.”

Faoust thinks for a moment. “This is complicated. I'll need some time with this. What do you think you'll do when you're out of the hospital?”

“What do you mean, when I’m out of the hospital? You’re going to kill me. No further planning needed.”

“Well, I was thinking about waiting when you got out of the hospital regardless.”

Isaiah sighs. “Wish I’d known that sooner. Might’ve kept this magical existential crisis at bay.” He shakes his head. “No. Probably not. Asmodai—I. Fucked up too much. There was no way he...I...would win. It’s certain. You will kill me.” He shakes his head again.

“Look. I don't want to kill you. Asmodai. At all. At this point it's about putting down an animal. That's all. And now there's this whole thing that you're not even who I knew anymore? This complicates things. Shit, if I were to kill you, it wouldn't even feel right.”

Isaiah makes a frustrated noise. “Fuck. The only reason I’m like this is because you’re going to kill me.”

“Do you want me to kill you?”

Isaiah dodges the question. “Back when I started killing to take power and names, I bound my own name away, far beyond my memory, and it would only come back if I was certain I was going to die. So I could die not as whatever fucking asshole whose name I stole. But as myself. Or at least. In the name I was born with, right?

“I was Asmodai. I was happy being Asmodai. But now?

“I’m no more Asmodai than I am this damn name my shit mother gave me.”

Faoust thinks. “Well, look. Fine. I'll kill you. Put you down. But I have to wait. I can't do anything until I have my magic back.”

Isaiah twists his lips a little. “Hm. Can’t help there. Told your boy here, I don’t have a key for the cuffs.”

This whole time, Dorien has just been watching, arms crossed and not believing this bullshit.

“Yeah,” Faoust says, “I heard. I've just got to wait. So you've got to wait.”

Isaiah sighs again. “Isaiah. Isaiah James. My name.” He shrugs. “Me. Not me.”

Isaiah twists his lips briefly in disgust at the taste of his own name on his tongue. “If you’re going to kill me, you ought to have my name.”

Faoust nods and rubs his face. “Look, I'll put you down. I will. But it's going to take like at least a week for me to get my magic back.”

Isaiah gives another shrug. “You know where to find me. I know what I’ve done. It’s only right.”

“Alright. You're not going anywhere?”

Isaiah gives him a flat look. “Where and how the hell would I manage to do that?”

“I mean, you've got magic. I don't. You could pull out some magic to take yourself somewhere.”

Isaiah rubs his fingers together on his right hand, little sparks arcing between them as he stares vacantly at his hand. “Where would I go? For what purpose? I know my fate.”

Faoust nods, satisfied. “Alright. Well then, we'll be on our way. You've got my number.”

Isaiah nods, dismissing the sparks. “I’ll be waiting.”

Isaiah wonders if it’s worth healing himself--physically, at any rate. He closes his eye and takes stock of all his pain. So many choices. And what else is he supposed to do with his time? The burns, he thinks, he will work on those. He hovers his right hand over his burned forearm, wrapped loosely in the day’s fresh gauze, and slowly works a healing spell, distracted by memories of the fight. Remembering the moment it all turned on him, when help came for Faoust while he had no one. He shakes his head, his thoughts wandering around. So many emotions that ruled him that he’s no longer bound by. Though perhaps he should be. He ought to be more angry. But he is mostly hollowed out. He does not even notice when his thoughts slip over the witch and his magic doesn’t so much as flicker, the healing steadily and slowly knitting in his skin.

Those were Asmodai’s problems.

The worst part is the waiting. Or perhaps the worst part, right now, is the burns on his arm—his healing magic is slow, the process tedious, and his head is empty of any warming memory to draw upon to make the healing go faster. There are memories, so many memories, but as he turns his mind to each of them in turn he feels nothing he can pull from. Perhaps it would have been better not to restore the nerve endings that had been burnt away—as they return, so too returns the opportunity for fresh pain to scream through his senses. And the drugs have trouble working their wonders as his magic interferes with the natural order of his body. Too late now, he’s already started this project. When the nurses aren’t looking in on him, he hovers his hand over the burned arm and continues the laborious process of working healing magic. Healing was never his forte. It still isn’t. Good to know, though it still seems like all he knows is a catalogue of things he was, and now isn’t.

Though perhaps, Isaiah thinks, it’s pointless to dwell on. Does he need that badly to know who he is now, if he’s only going to die? Not that he wants to die. Though, he can tell, Asmodai didn’t want to die in a particularly crazed and desperate way that Isaiah no longer feels. He doesn’t want to die, but then, he doesn’t feel a clear sense that he wants much of anything right now. From the moment the spell he placed upon himself fell away, he has simply accepted the fact of his death. Imminent. Inevitable. Deserved.

Asmodai was awful—not in a way that Isaiah feels, merely as a summary of fact considering the things that he’d done. The drives that motivated him. But to be fair, Isaiah had not been a good person either. No. He had been awful too. Killed people. Tortured them. Enjoyed it. Sought power beyond his measure, and took it.

Killed the dark wizard who taught him everything.

Sealed himself away.

What had he thought would happen, if this spell had ever had cause to come undone? He can’t remember, but he is pretty sure he would not have guessed it would leave him like this. So...uncertain.

Regret implies a level of sadness Isaiah doesn’t feel. He...wishes he had been someone different though. He wishes he had acted differently. Had recognized his limits. Recognized battles he wouldn’t win, and had the sense not to fight them.

The nurse surely notices when Isaiah’s arm does not look as bad off today as it did yesterday, putting fresh gauze on, but says nothing. Discreetly checks the patient chart—yes, third degree burns. It definitely said the patient had third degree burns. But you don’t last long in this town by asking inconvenient questions. Since the patient is conscious now, staring out the window, the nurse offers him his phone from his belongings and plugs it in for him. There’s a crack across the screen, but the phone works.

Isaiah has been working on healing his arm. It is such a slow, deliberate process. He isn’t sure why he’s doing it, but now that he’s started he’s committed to continuing. After all, what else has he got to do? His arm is still a mess of burnt tissue and pain, fresh nerve endings and the testament to his limitations.

Later, he looks through his phone, deleting pictures that bring him no particular joy to look at. Eventually he texts Faoust, “Have you decided how you’ll do it?” and nothing else.

Faoust: “something quick. Could stab you right in the heart.”

The heart had been Asmodai’s favorite, ripped from his victims—sometimes raw, other times he’d toast them before devouring them whole.

Isaiah: “poetic. fitting.”

Faoust: "look man. I really don't want to do this. You could go about your business. I don't care"

Isaiah sighs, and leaves the message on read for a few minutes. He thinks.

Isaiah: “I did wrong by you. I accept responsibility for it.”

Faoust: "and I'm telling you it's fine."

Isaiah waits again before responding.

Isaiah: “now I’m the one that needs to think on that”

Faoust: "Asmodai tried to kill me. He failed. You're here now. Not the same as Asmodai. It's not the same kill for me. Look, I beat the shit out of you. That should cover it. Do you really want to die?"

Isaiah sighs to himself.

Isaiah: “no, I don’t”

Faoust: "then I'm giving you your fucking out. Take it."

Isaiah pauses. Again, Faoust giving him the opportunity not to die, after everything he...Asmodai...he did. After so many times he honestly deserved to die. He was a warped and twisted thing, not right, and surely not to be trusted. But fuck. He didn’t really want to die.

Isaiah: “...ok.”

Isaiah: “fine”

Faoust: "want me to call a healer for you?"

Isaiah: “...seriously?”

Faoust: "otherwise you're going to be stuck at the hospital forever. No offense but I want you out of here."

Isaiah: “sure, sure. If I’m healing myself it’ll take forever”

Faoust: "you can't kill her"

Isaiah: “of course”

Isaiah thinks about the warning, which is fair, considering his history. He doesn’t even feel like killing anyone right now. Which is strange to him. He wonders to himself as he waits if this is the right thing to do, not insisting Faoust kill him. If he’s just avoiding fate and what he deserves. But when Faoust arrives in his hospital room with a healer, and she uses magic to transport the three of them out of his hospital room, he just watches quietly, making no protest. The empty alley she takes them to is cold, and Isaiah’s broken body falls to the ground painfully without a bed beneath him anymore.

He sucks it up, grits his teeth, and withstands the pain and the cold. Not out of any sense of pride, but because he feels he deserves it. He lists out for the healer the procedures the doctors had done, along with his own meager attempts at healing, and in turn, she tells him what she’ll be able to do. The metal they used to set his bones will always bring him some pain and discomfort, and there’s nothing she can do for his eye, the curse--

“The eye,” says Isaiah, touching his cheek lightly, “has been there a long time now. It’s fine.”

The magic of healing is painful, and there is a lot of it to be done. Isaiah doesn’t scream, not the way he did when Faoust beat him in the first place. He endures, and tries to focus on the fact that he deserves this pain. This doesn’t stop a few strangled screams and growls from bubbling up. Faoust watches impassively, satisfied.

When it’s finished, Isaiah breathes heavily for a moment, feeling every nerve on fire, taking stock of how he feels. He sits up, slowly, impressed and in awe. He gives thanks to the healer, to Faoust, and stands up shakily on knees that are no longer shattered. He summons up the illusion of clothes over his hospital gown, with no idea where he ought to go, what he ought to do. When Faoust tells him to get the fuck out of here, he readily agrees. Not the first town he’s been kicked out of. Always violent. Always deserved.

He could teleport himself, but where the hell would he go? There’s nowhere he belongs. There’s a dull ache in his bones, and he picks a cardinal direction and starts walking toward it. The speed doesn’t matter. Isaiah doesn’t strictly need actual clothes. He could use magic to keep himself warm. But the first window shop he passes, he swaps his hospital gown for the outfit on display, and keeps walking. He walks until he’s passed by a sign indicating leaving/entering, the liminal space of one town bleeding into another, goes to the first clean motel he can find, uses his magic to procure a room, and passes out after having walked for hours.

At the hospital, a call is placed to 911. A patient is missing.

The officer assigned to take the report is the same one who had been guarding the room when Dorien and Faoust visited. With the most deadpan expression, she questions the charge nurse on duty, intoning dully, “wow, just fucking vanished, huh?”

She files a missing persons report for “Asmodai / Isaiah James,” because in spite of trying not to hear things she doesn’t want to have to question, she hears them anyway. She makes note of possible contacts / persons of interest, “Dorien” and “Faoust,” and submits her report to see if she can get away with not following up on anything further.

She doesn’t even bother running any checks on any of the names. She doesn’t find anything out about a decades-old missing persons report for a runaway boy of the name Isaiah James out of Ohio. If anyone bothered to fingerprint the victim at all to try to ID him while he was unconscious, the prints have been lost.

After all, a lot of people go missing in this town.

It’s just one more.

Her supervisor literally flips a coin to decide if such absolute bullshit shoddy work will be accepted. Tails. That’s a nope. He rejects the report, and sends her a CAD message: “hit the streets and try again sweetie.”

Officer Dannic “Dani” Voros swears, loudly, in her patrol car in the hospital parking lot, and slams her computer shut. Growls, and opens it again to search for any information she can find about Dorien and Faoust. If she can find anything, she’ll talk to them at least.

Here’s what she finds: no drivers licenses. No arrest records. No voter records. Nothing in any database she has access to. No hospital records, which no, her friend in the hospital records should NOT have looked up for her probably but dammit, this was important. Well, not important to her, but it’s what she was supposed to be doing and she was getting very annoyed with the lack of any hints of paper trail for those two.

She starts angrily and haphazardly googling search terms, and some combination of tall, mysterious, handsome, and Dorien does bring back a tabloid article about the enigmatic artist, which brings up several printed interviews and connections to a particular pre-teen punk rock band apparently bankrolled by Mr. Dorien Godforbidhehavealastname, and the names of its musicians. Actual names. First and last names, unlike those recordless bastards Dorien and Faoust. She searches the names. Property tax records. Bingo. A lead. And an address. She puts the patrol car in drive and heads out. One conversation largely conducted through the few-inch gap of a chained door later, Officer Voros has both probably offended another citizen with an inappropriate joke, and obtained an address for the two handsome strangers that called on her missing person.

The cold rain makes all this work extra annoying. She debates putting off the follow up until more clement weather. Or just never. Reluctantly she puts the patrol car in drive and heads to the address.

She looks at the apartment building as she pulls up. No, correction. She looks at the giant skeleton covered in Valentine’s decorations outside the apartment building as she pulls up. The apartment building itself is an afterthought. As she arrives, the weather around the apartment changes. Suddenly it is clear and 59 degrees.

Officer Voros just stares at the atmosphere and blinks at it like it has personally offended her. She twists in her seat to look back down the street at the weather there, then stares at the apartment again, and sinks back in her seat for a moment, closing her eyes, and thinks to herself, “thiiiiiiis. iiiiiis. some buuuuuuuullshiiiiiiiiit.”

She sighs a very angry sigh, gets out of the patrol car, and goes up to the appropriate door. She raps on the door with her very best authoritative knock.

Faoust opens the door and clocks the cop. “Hm.”

Officer Voros puts her hands on her hips and brightens comically. “And they said I’d never find the secret prettyboy convention! Those bastards once again were wrong.” She smiles, and doesn’t offer her name. “Evening citizen. I’m hoping you might help me with this absolute crazy missing persons case I’ve been cursed with.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Why, your dear friend or whatever bullshit you said at the time. Asmodai? Isaiah? You know, the guy SOMEBODY in this cursed plane of existence beat all to hell and put in the hospital.”

“Wait, wait, wait. How did he go missing? He couldn't stand, let alone walk? How did you lose him?”

“Yeah! That’s the crazy part, he just. Fucking. Vanished. Shattered kneecaps, pelvis, and all. Gone. Between you and me, that’s on the hospital. We weren’t watching him anymore at that point, but now it IS my problem to, you know. Figure out what the fuck happened and make sure there’s not a homicide investigation that should be happening here.”

Faoust shakes his head in disbelief as he tries to come up with a plan. “I could give you his motel room and location if you want? I mean, I haven't heard from him since I went to go see him?”

“Sure, sure. And it’s not like it’s illegal for him to leave the hospital. If he’s fine, I just need to lay eyes on him. It just seems real fucking suspiciously inconceivable how he’d have managed that in the state he was in, ya know?”

“Yeah, no, for sure. Let me go get some paper.”

Faoust leaves her at the front door and digs around in drawers looking for paper and pen. She stands at the front door, looking inside, pondering Faoust the whole while. He hands her a note with the address of the motel Asmodai had been staying at.

“Let me know if you find anything, yeah?”

Officer Voros takes the paper. “Of course.” She takes a blank card out of her pocket, a generic business card for the police department that doesn’t have her name on it. She writes down a phone number and offers the card to Faoust. “You think of anything else helpful, call or text me. Or if your prettyboy friend Dorien knows anything either.”

“Dorien doesn't know anything. At all. Not a braincell up there. But I'll keep it in mind.” Faoust takes the card and pockets it.

“Thanks. Stay safe citizen.” She heads down the steps and back to her patrol car, looking at the address. She knows the motel.

Officer Voros looks back toward Faoust from her patrol car for a long minute before she pulls out. She doesn’t have any sort of proof necessarily, just a feeling that Faoust was lying quite smoothly out of every side of his head right to her face. She types up a field contact for alias Faoust along with the address before she leaves.

Asmodai’s motel room ends up being a dead end. There’s nothing obviously off about the room, but she gets a weird vibe. Still a suitcase here. Some knives. Nothing much else. She does not discover that the room is under a stolen credit card in another name. She doesn’t look up any other purchases that stolen card might have made to connect it to an abandoned rental car that was impounded on Faoust’s street. She types up her report and deletes “went on a wild fucking goose chase because my corporal is a dickhead” from the report.

Officer Voros swears loudly, because she realizes she didn’t ask Faoust if the mysteriously vanished bastard had. a fucking. cell phone number. She groans. She decides she’ll pretend to have thought of that tomorrow, because she doesn’t want to follow up now.

The weak and cloudy light of morning is scattered further by the cheap, hazy curtains pulled loosely across the window. Isaiah wakes up, still dressed in his stolen clothes where he passed out on top of the covers. There it is—a dull ache in his bones, a twinge in his hips and knees as he pushes himself up to sit. He looks down at his palms, and they are smooth and untroubled, marked by nothing but the simple creases of where his hand folds. He flexes his left hand. The countless scars that had made a tangled nest there in his palm, the countless times he’d cut and called upon blood magic and done only a just-good-enough job of closing the wounds, when he remembered to heal himself at all, they’re all gone.

Isaiah doesn’t even have a knife, he realizes. His...Asmodai’s favored knives were either in the clothes left in the hospital, in the rental car, or in the motel room he has no intention of returning to. But it feels like he should have a knife. He has no money, but money isn’t too necessary when you’re flush with magic and short on moral qualms against stealing.

He heads out for the day to get a knife, zipping up his stolen coat. Something simple. New. He goes to the nearest outdoors store and sees a nice Benchmade folding knife with a black-coated blade and white handle and feels drawn to it. With an effortless bit of magic, the knife disappears from the case and appears in his pocket as he leaves the parking lot.

Isaiah flips the knife open experimentally, admires it, turning his wrist this way and that to see the sides of the blade. He unlocks the blade and closes it again, clipping the knife in his pocket. He doesn’t have a plan for it, but it felt appropriate in his hand.

Isaiah has been somewhat skirting around thinking about this fact, but taking the knife in his hand he has to confront it. He’s not someone who can go work a 9 to 5 job, take a little paycheck home, find someone sweet to love him and love in turn. Whatever he does next isn’t going to be some contented kind of life. That wasn’t the lot he was born to.

What he is good at...all he has ever been good at, is violence.

He walks slowly back to the current motel. He takes the knife out of his pocket, opening and closing it as he goes, thinking to himself. Magic, and violence. Magic and violence. This is all he’s ever known. Even if he wanted to do something else, how could he, at this point? He’s not a good person. And surely nothing he is capable of can be used for good ends. He hasn’t killed anyone in so many days now, and strangest of all, doesn’t feel particularly compelled to. Not averse to it either. But the stirring in his blood that craved to see the icy glint of fear through tears before an untimely death doesn’t move him, for now.

Officer Voros follows up with Faoust the next night, gets a phone number for her missing person, and puts in a request for a ping before taking a nap in her patrol car. She’ll follow up further in daylight hours. Before ending her night shift, Officer Voros tries to call the phone number Faoust provided for the missing person. It’s almost 6am, of course he doesn’t answer. She leaves a voicemail indicating for him to call the communications center so they can speak.

The next day, Officer Voros, as soon as assembly is done, goes to her patrol car and puts herself on a follow up before any calls can be assigned to her. She tries calling the number again. Isaiah looks at his phone. A blocked number. He silences the phone without answering, because who would be calling him? He hasn’t bothered checking his voicemail either, since he didn’t recognize the number that called. He’ll check it eventually. He sits in his motel room, opening and closing his stolen knife.

Officer Voros checks the latitude and longitude of the ping. Another motel. It’s within a mile of what technically counts as her jurisdiction, so technically she CAN go investigate her own damn self, OR she can call her counterparts in the next town over to check for her. She debates which sounds like more work. With an agonized groan that can surely be heard two counties over, Officer Voros puts her patrol car in drive and heads for the motel.

Officer Voros checks with the front desk, but thanks to his use of magic there’s no one checked in by the names of Asmodai or Isaiah James. She pulls up the coordinates on her phone to get as close as possible to the ping, and starts knocking on doors fruitlessly, starting with the ground floor. She has an idea, and dials the number again, and faintly hears a ring from a couple doors down. A little excited in spite of herself, she hustles down to the door and knocks.

Asmodai would’ve checked through the peephole before opening the door, if he opened it at all. Isaiah does not care, and opens the door as he silences his phone again, looking up from the phone at the officer.

“There you are, you mysterious bastard! Alive and unmurdered, and my hatred of paperwork thanks you for that.”

Isaiah feels a slight needle of panic, if only because he has done a lot of things that would not put him on the good side of the police. His eye darts briefly to her neck and back to meet her eyes.

“Here I am. Alive. Unmurdered, as you say.”

Officer Voros looks him up and down, frowning. This is definitely the same guy, that’s not a common scar after all, but he’s clearly not just unmurdered, but very significantly undamaged. “Didn’t you have a hell of a lot of shattered bones?”

Isaiah shrugs. “Modern medicine is a miracle.”

Officer Voros just blinks at him. She doesn’t believe him for a moment. “And I don’t suppose you might be able to tell me how you managed to make your way so secretly out of the hospital that they felt compelled to report you as a missing person?”

“Sorry, no. Not sure what the miscommunication was there. Quite obviously, I left the hospital.”

“Quite. Obviously. Of course.”

Isaiah smiles wanly. “Am I in trouble?”

Officer Voros continues looking him over suspiciously. “I suppose not. You left your paperwork from the hospital.” She hands him a stack of paperwork and billing statements. “Somehow.”

Isaiah takes the papers. “Oh, thanks.”

“And the belongings you came in with. Are still at the hospital.”

“Oops.”

“And a bunch of shit I’m guessing belongs to you is all left at another cheap motel.”

“You think?”

“No,” Officer Voros snaps. “I try to avoid thinking whenever I can. But I do think some weird ass shit is involved here with you.”

Isaiah’s hand twitches slightly, and he presses his lips together. “Hm.”

“But shit being weird isn’t my problem. Not my jurisdiction. So I suppose I don’t give a fuck. Glad you’re not murdered. Take care. Call your friends, they’re pretending to be worried about you.” She heads back to her patrol car.

Isaiah slowly lets out a tensely held breath.

Officer Voros sits in the parking lot, wrapping up her report. She tries calling Faoust from her blocked number. He answers, not knowing any better.

“Solid citizen! Faoust right? Your favorite friend-finding officer here. Found your friend.”

“Oh my god! Where was he? Is he ok?”

“He’s better than ok, considering the state I last saw him in. Damn near miraculous recovery. He’s just outside of town, another motel not far off the highway.”

“Oh man, thanks so much for finding him. I'll have to go see him. Are you able to give me the address?”

“That depends, are you going there to murder him?”

“Why the hell would Igo there to murder him?”

“Aaaa I’m just fucking with you. I’ve got a nice neat solved missing persons case here and if you went and murdered him it would just be an assfuck of paperwork that I don’t want to have to deal with is all.”

“Fucked up joke, officer.”

“Yeah, file a complaint on me if you’d like. Oh, right, address,” she says, and gives him the address and room of the Quality Inn where Isaiah is staying.

“Thank you. Despite the fucked up joke, I'm glad you found him.”

“Just doing my sworn duty and all that. Stay safe citizen,” she says and hangs up.

Without fully realizing it, Officer Voros has solved the first missing persons case in the department in nearly a year.

Officer Voros always keeps a spare portable radio among her belongings. She managed to get it more or less off the record, so that when she inevitably loses track of her actual radio again, she can make do with the backup until the original eventually resurfaces, and not get all manner of shit from her corporal for losing her radio AGAIN. She doesn’t think hard on the fact that her radio is once again MIA. It will turn up in time.

In his motel room, Isaiah switches the radio on, and fiddles between channels.

Isaiah lays on the bed, one hand manipulating the knife—open, closed, open, closed, each motion with a satisfying little sound—the other hand resting on the radio on his chest, occasionally following the chatter of traffic to a side channel. An officer keys up, her voice annoyed and muttering over sounds of entitlement in the background—“6676 to 200, switch to 2”—and Isaiah flips the radio to channel 2, partly because he is curious and partly because it sounds like the officer from the other night.

The officer keys up, he’s quite sure it’s her, and a voice that sounds like it expects the world laid compliantly at its feet cuts through the backdrop of everything the officer says

6676: 200 you on?

—this is AMERICA, I have RIGHTS, I demand to speak to your SUPERVISOR, I—

200: go’on whatcha got

—what is your NAME, no WHAT is your NAME—

6676: *you can hear the eye roll in her voice* can you just come over here and deal with this.

There’s a final indignant “do you even KNOW” in the background before the supervisor cuts over the traffic to advise he’s en route. Isaiah’s thumb closes the knife again with a sense of finality. He doesn’t care about the officers, but the woman in the background had the sort of voice you’d love to cut right out of her throat.

Isaiah sits up, goes to put the radio aside but pulls it back in front of him again. He focuses on the radio, whatever traces of grit and grime and little skin cells from the officer still stick to the plasticky radio, and does a tracking spell. He switches the radio off, puts it on the bedside table, and grabs his jacket on the way out the door.

Isaiah returns to his motel room. Hands clean. Knife clean.

He did not appear with an ear-splitting bang, as the witch does. He knows ways to move through shadows and though it isn’t instantaneous, it’s a hell of a lot quieter. Isaiah remained in the shadows, waiting. There, yes, the officer from the other night, and there, that must be 200, the human embodiment of an industrial refrigerator crossed with a boulder, and there. Jabbing her finger, practically frothing at the mouth, hair crisply cut, every line in her body set in the conviction of her own righteousness and that she should get what she wants. Isaiah didn’t even try to listen to what she was saying. It didn’t matter. He waited.

When the officers left, the woman turned to her minivan to get in. Or, that was what she intended to do. But she found as she walked, it was like her body was being pushed and pulled, and the sound had left her voice, and she walked into the shadows across the parking lot.

Without saying a word, Isaiah came up quickly behind her and slit her throat, and before a drop could hit the concrete sent her body and all its rapidly spilling blood deep, deep into the earth below.

Magic cleaned the knife. Magic cleaned his hands. He slipped back into the shadows and hurried to get the hell back out of Faoust’s town.

Isaiah returned to his motel room, everything clean. Feeling a certain ...satisfaction? Correctness? A bit of lost unease dissolved away within him.

Of course, Isaiah reflects on how different this murder was. He flicks the knife, open and closed. When he thinks of himself as he was, he has gotten in the habit of thinking of himself as an entirely separate person now. Asmodai was. Asmodai would have. So on. Asmodai would have taken far more enjoyment from the killing. Asmodai would have tasted the blood on the knife. Asmodai would have savored the delicious fear in her eyes, for as long as possible. Asmodai would have had the possibility of someone to share the experience with, though he resented so much about that fact. Asmodai was an idiot.

Isaiah switches the radio back on, quietly, to have something to listen to, since that’s all he has.

When Officer Voros was handling the latest missing person case early this morning, part of her was perversely satisfied—maybe that bitch descended back to hell where she belonged—and that other part of her, the part made of intuitions that guessed too correctly, that had long ago tried to bring up things that had since gone ignored, the part that she did her best to keep buried, that part felt a sharp jolt of unease. She was, officially, the last person to have seen the missing person. There was a security camera on the other side of the parking lot, and the footage made no sense. The victim—victim? Why was she already thinking victim?—missing bitch, then, started walking to her car, and then turned, and walked off to the far side of the parking lot, into grainy shadow. It didn’t look like someone had called out to her, she just...decided to go on some random bitch walk. In the dark of early morning hours, Officer Voros walked around the spot she went off to, clicking on her flashlight, looking for clues. Nothing.

It seemed appropriate for Isaiah to return to murder on his own...it’s all he knows. He’s not suddenly a good person. He’s not full of remorse for everything he did. It’s all just facts. Things that happened that can’t be changed.

He listens to the radio again today, and thinks with a sort of mirthless chuckle how hypocritical it would be for him to kill some of the people he’s hearing about. “If I were cutting throats for that, have to start with myself,” he thinks, over and over and over. Asmodai craved victims, sought them out. Isaiah is content to see what serendipity will bring.

Isaiah struck out into town yesterday to find a charger for his stolen radio. Listening gives him something to do besides think. He could have just gotten a commercial police scanner, or used an app on his phone to listen in, but that didn’t have the same appeal. He listens carefully, mentally keeping track of the addresses and where the officers are, when it’s announced anyway. The officer from the other night he can find easily enough, but without addresses and nothing to trace them with, magically speaking, finding any of these other officers would be incredibly difficult. Well, to do in a timely fashion anyway.

So he listens, and waits, hoping to feel that same jolt of dead certainty, knowing a voice spoke that would be his to kill.

Isaiah knows. An officer keys up “put me out with an animal problem at” and gives an address, and just before the radio cuts out he hears a man in the background, derisive, say “I don’t understand, it’s just a stupid—“ before being cut off by the end of the transmission. That voice. He felt it, like a nail being slashed at high speed across a chalkboard, a string plucked so hard it snaps, THAT is a man he needs to kill. He is equal parts thrilled and yet feels the calm certainty slipping over him. His knife is ready. He knows where to go. He slips out into the cold rain.

Sliding through shadows. Waiting. The man goes inside, alone. Isaiah slips inside, without a word, the only sound made is his knife blade locking into place. The man finds his voice is gone. The man walks toward Isaiah, against his own will, and kneels before him, fear shining in his eyes. Isaiah looks down, cold, comes around from behind, threads his fingers in the man’s hair and pulls back, hard, exposing his neck. He draws the blade firm and fast across the neck, and like the woman before Isaiah sends the body hundreds of feet into the ground below before a drop of blood can hit the floor.

He looks at the blood on the knife, for a moment, imagines the taste on his tongue like a mouth full of pennies. It doesn’t appeal to him, not right now. Magic cleans the blade, cleans the bit of blood on his hands, cleans the scene of any trace evidence, and Isaiah slips away.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

#an ill-fitting name #My writing #original story #collaborative fiction #Original work #original writing #original fiction #magic fiction #Magic murderer #Snippets #fictional murder #fictional murderer #Fictional incompetent police

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motorcitizens · 4 years

Text

ive never seen anywhere to watch motorcity with subs? so i went looking and found transcripts of most of the early mc episodes (available in a reply so tumblr doesnt kill the post) but theyre missing a few towards the end. i decided on my fourth rewatch that id transcribe episode 9! whether youre a hard of hearing fan or just want the reference, here you go! let me know if the initials are annoying, ill edit them out.

-I got you with the slash!

-Nuh-uh!

-You first.

-Why me?

-Cuz you're dead anyway.

-There's nothing down here!

-Philip? S- stop fooling around, man. I- I can hear you down there.

-Aah!

[theme]

-The last time I bought anything from you, it took me a week to fumigate the kitchen!

-Okay, the reshcaps were a mistake, you're right about that. But today, I have something extra special...

D- ...then she says, 'that's why I can't eat the sandwich!'

[all laugh]

C- Wait, wait, I got one. Where does a snowman keep his money? In a snow bank! Eh? Get it? Come on, it's funny!

Th- We're searching for the Vanquisher, king of the realm?

T- Oh. I think they're talking about me.

M- Yeah, I have no idea who you're-

Th- There he is!

Burners- Chuck?!

T- [laughter]

R- Hey! You dare insult Lord Vanquisher? I should take your tongue and feed it to the birds.

T- Uh, you can't do that. I need my tongue.

C- Release him, Darkslayer.

R- ... Fortune smiles upon you today.

M- So, Chuck, you wanna introduce us to your... friends?

C- Guys, allow me to present: Thurman the Magnificent, and Ruby the Darkslayer!

Th: We are knights of the kingdom of Raymanthia.

C- It's called LARPing! [...] Live action role-playing? [...] Okay, I have a life outside of the Burners, you know!

D- Sure doesn't look like it.

T- Oh! I get it! Ahahaha!

Th- My Lord, a situation has arisen. The oracle awaits.

O- As you requested, Sam and Phillip were dispatched on a scouting mission early this morning. But we have not heard from them for many hours.

M- What do you mean you haven't heard from them?

O- I fear, Lord Vanquisher, they have gotten lost on the outskirts of the realm.

T- Texas is confused. Okay, now is this part of your little game or is this real?

D- We're standing behind some dude's van who calls himself the oracle. What do you think?

O- I demand silence!

J- I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Texas on this one.

O- Chuck! Make em stop.

C- Wait. Is this part of the game?

Th- No. Sam and Philip are really missing.

M- So, this is for real?

O- We need your help.

C- I vow to find our wayward kinsmen.

C- Guys, this is LARPing!

T- Woah. That's it?

C- Each weekend, teams battle for control of the realm. The rules are simple: First, once you step onto the field of battle, you must remain in character. Second, if you must be vanquished: do so with honor. It's neat, ain't it?!

J- The game's already started?

R- If by 'game' you mean a ferocious battle to the death for the crown of Raymanthia, then yes.

O- But we can't win unless we find our friends.

[at the same time]

C- I say we split up.

M- Let's split up.

M- No disrespect! Chuck- uh, I mean, Lord Chuck. What do you think we should do?

C- Ahem! If we split up, we'll cover more ground!

O/Th/R- As you say, Lord Vanquisher.

C- Okay guys. We'll check the warehouse near the old Renaissance center, you guys check the battlefield.

Th- I dunno where that is. Can somebody else drive?

M- So, King Chuck. How'd you win your crown?

O- It happened many weekends ago... Chuck stood as freedom's last hope against Mad Dog the Conqueror. If he were to fall, darkness would reign for yet another long weekend. Mad Dog summoned his dragon to finish off the Vanquisher once and for all, but fate had different plans. It was totally awesome!

C- Naw, it wasn't... that awesome.

D- Little dudes!

J- Sam! Phillip?

D- Where are you?

Guy- Huzzah!

R- Leave this to me!

Guy- The bards shall sing of this day... the day the Darkslayer fell!

R- Someone shall fall on this day... but it shall not be me.

[fighting noises]

Guy- Aha! Tsk, tsk. You've lost your sword!

T- hyah!

R- What are you doing! I had him right where I wanted him!

Guy- You're not playing by the rules.

T- These are Texas rules! [karate noises] Now. We need you to answer some questions.

D- We're looking for two missing kids, Sam and Phillip. Have you seen them?

Guy- I'd rather die a thousand deaths than help the likes of you.

J- Ahem! Forgive us, my liege, but we are but humble squires in search of our kinsmen. Can you help us?

Guy- I've never been one to refuse a lady, certainly not one as ravishing as you. Saw your kinsmen five hours ago, approaching the Dungeon of Anguish.

D- Neat trick.

Th- We're never gonna find them in time. Then the stupid Bardonians are gonna win, think they're all cool with their fancy mustaches.

C- Hey. Buck up there, camper! People said we'd never win the Battle Royale last Fall, but we did. Our friends are out there, and we'll find em! We just gotta keep-

M- Uh, sorry. Dutch just called. Your friends were seen someplace called the Dungeon Anguish?

Th- It's actually the Dungeon of Anguish.

C- It's, uh. Well, it's actually just in the basement right here.

C- Wah, ah! Get it off me, get it off me!

Th- This isn't part of the game!

M- Yeah, well, neither is this!

R- That was. Incredible!

D- What were those things?

M- Don't know. But I'm betting they have something to do with our missing friends. We have to move. [LARPers kneel] Uh, come on. Get up, guys, we don't have time for this.

O- From this day forth, you shall be known as "Mike, the Smiling Dragon."

Th- You just got a great name. Jealous!

C- For saving my life on the field of battle, I owe you a debt of life.

M- That's... really not necessary.

O- Actually, it's totally necessary. The king of the realm cannot rule while carrying a debt of life.

C- As such, I give the crown to the Smiling Dragon!

M- No. No, Please, look, I can't, I just- I was-

C- Mikey, you gotta!

J- Hey guys, check this out! I've never seen that symbol before.

D- That's really old.

M- Way before my time. Maybe Jacob can help.

Th- What if those... things have Sam and Phillip?

R- Never fear. We have the Smiling Dragon. As long as he's our king, we can't lose. Did you see his moves? They were just so- so-!

M- You okay, buddy? Look, if it's about what happened back there, I'm sorry man. I was just trying to help.

C- It's not that. It's just-

M- Just what?

C- Look, I tripped, okay?

M- Um... If that's some kind of LARPer slang, I have no idea what it means.

C- The story you heard. About how I earned my crown? That's not how it really... went down. It was my first real battle. I'd never held a real lance before. I was still getting my balance when Lord Mad Dog summoned his dragon... I ran forward but... I tripped. The lance fell and hit him by accident! I won my crown with a lie. Hey... it's better that you're king now. I was never fit for the post. I've been king for 48 consecutive weekends, and-

M- 48? Woah, you do play this game a lot.

C- Yeah, but... it took less than an hour of LARPing with you for the others to see me for what I truly am... a follower.

M- Hey, a follower couldn't have led his team to 48 consecutive victories. You can't fake that!

C- Mikey... Look, I appreciate your support but we both know I'm no leader. Not when I'm a Burner and not even when I'm here, playing make believe.

M- Here. Take the pin back.

C- You can't just give it to me! The only way I can get it back is to earn it by saving your life. And let's be honest. That ain't gonna happen.

Th- Never seen that tunnel before. You aren't planning on taking us down there, are you?

R- Well I'm going in!

Th- Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if my mom finds out I went down some crazy dark tunnel looking for killer robots?!

O- He's not joking. His mom is terrifying.

M- They're right. This isn't a game anymore. Texas will stay up here and keep you safe while we go get your friends.

T- What! Wait, why me?

M- Because you're the bravest warrior we've got.

T- Yeah, that's true, but come on! Don't leave me with the nerds!

D- What is this place?

O- Booyah! Mutant wolverine. I win!

Th- I could show you how to use that.

T- Save it. Not interested.

O- Why not? You're really good.

T- You really think so?

Th- Here, watch.

T- Hyah! Huh?

T- Mike, Julie! Incoming! We got trouble!

Th- Come on, I just got this!

O- Your mom is gonna be so mad.

J- This isn't working!

M- I'm open to suggestions!

R- A wizard!

Ja- Applesauce!

J- Jacob?

R- Aww!

Bot- The creator has returned!

M- Uh, Jacob? Care to fill us in?

Ja- It started back when Kane and I were partners- before there even was a Deluxe! I was designing our first ever Utility Bot. Its purpose was to make life in Detroit easier and safer. I equipped it with a new AI that would allow the bot to anticipate human commands, but I was the only one the bot seemed to listen to. But if it were ever to escape the lab, there's no telling the danger it could pose. I begged Kane to shut the program down! I always thought he did.

Bot: It began soon after you left us. Kane retrained us! We were instructed to capture enemies of the public and bring them back to Kane's new creation, an Interrogator. But the humans could not control it. Kane sealed the lab. Our new master told us every human was out to destroy us. As such, every human became our enemy. Disloyalty was severely punished. So we waited, until this door finally opened.

M- Our friends went missing this morning. Have you seen them?

Bot- Of course. We took them per our master's instructions.

J- We need to get them back!

[roar]

Bot- Our master has awoken. If he discovers you here with us, he will destroy us.

M- Get the LARPers out of here!

C- I'm not leaving you guys!

R- Our place is here, with our King!

M- This isn't a game! Get your friends to safety.

C- Let's move!

D- Come on!

J- Look out!

[rubble collapses the door]

T- Mike!

D- Julie!

Both- Jacob!

D- We'll never move this stuff by ourselves!

T- Says who?

Th- What do we do?

C- I know a way to get through there! But I will require your van.

Ja- There used to be another exit!

J- Hey, look at this!

M- The kids have to be in one of those rooms. If we can find a way past that thing we can rescue them and get the heck out of here! Think you can buy us some time?

J- Do you even have to ask? Hey, ugly! Over here!

M- Sam! Phillip! Climb up here!

S- You're the new king of the realm?

M- You bet your butt I am. Lord Smiling Dragon, at your service. Now get up that rope, squire!

T- Okay, I admit. It's pretty cool.

C- But is it possible?

D- Sure. But there's no way the three of us can build it fast enough.

C- What if they helped?

D- I know you don't mean the little lunatics that just tried to kill us!

Bot- We cannot get involved. If our master were to find out-

C- He's not your master! You are in Raymanthia. And in Raymanthia, every man- or... freaky little Utiliton- is free! Free to stand up for yourselves. Free to fight back! And free to live! Our friends are down there, and I swear to you on the steel of my blade that even if I have to slay the beast itself, we! will! bring them back!

[utilitons cheering]

T- hwah! Nah, see, this ain't nerdy. This is a level 25 battle ax, okay? Twenty five. Think about it.

Ja- Maybe there wasn't another exit?

M- Stay here!

M- Way to go, Chuck!

S&P- The Vanquisher!

T- Make way for Texas!

C- The beast is absorbing the blasts!

[mike gets got]

C- Mike!

C- Drive! and when I say stop, stop fast! ...STOP!

M- Ha, oh yeah!

M- For saving my life on the field of battle, I owe you my life. My steel is yours to command, since a king cannot carry... I forget how the rest of it goes, here! All hail King Chuck, the Vanquisher!

R- This was the coolest game ever!

M- ... the game. Your win streak. You guys have to go defend your crown!

Th- We'll never be able to muster an attack in time.

T- What if we help.

M- We're yours to command, Lord Vanquisher.

C- For the glory of the realm!

[all yell]

#motorcity #i meant to just. have this but i figured i might as well post it #chuck (motorcity)#mike chilton #julie kane #dutch gordy #texas (motorcity)#mne

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 5

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Ienzo investigates Demyx further, and comes to a shocking revelation.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo told Aeleus everything.

The man seemed more tired than usual. He’d been gone for the past two days on some resistance mission neither Even nor Ienzo really knew anything about. He’d slept soundlessly, almost breathlessly, on the couch for two hours before Ienzo tried to feed him and convince him to sleep in his proper bed. But when Aeleus asked how he was… the words had spilled out of him almost against his will.

“There are more people like me here, Aeleus,” he finished. “That much is certain.”

Aeleus ate steadily. Ienzo had made pho; he’d forgotten how much he missed cooking with an actual full kitchen. “Of course there are,” he said. “Not everyone goes underground in our sense. Some merely prefer to hide.”

“In some ways I feel so… naive,” he admitted slowly. “I wish you would tell me some things so I don’t feel so ignorant.”

Aeleus smiled and squeezed Ienzo’s hand. “If I could, I would,” he said. “Even I am only allowed to know pieces, parts.” He set aside his empty bowl. “Though I am curious. I had thought all the seeker lines… were eradicated.”

“But why, if they’re functionally harmless? He has no magic.”

Aeleus rubbed at his eyes. “Their abilities are purely passive… and somewhat latent. It’s thought seekers would do anything to trigger their own abilities, even if they do not consciously realize it. But once they wake… they are a force to be reckoned with. Their individualism was what made them dangerous.”

Ienzo exhaled. Was that why Demyx was so drawn to him? Because on some level he thought Ienzo’s power would awaken his own?

“...Moreover… and Even would say this is all silly mythology.”

“If Even says it’s silly, then I want to know it all the more.”

“Seekers pairbond. It’s thought they spend their days looking for their soulmate… and if they find them, they know. Ironically… despite the individualism, they are nearly dependent on those they bond with."

Ienzo smiled a little. “That is very mythic.”

“I admit I’m rather jealous of you. I’d like to meet one.”

“Well, if I can be subtle about it, I’ll ask him.”

“He might not know much about his own culture.”

“...Soulmates.” Ienzo shook his head. “As if anyone has time for love right now.”

---

Still, why was it Ienzo agreed to see him again?

Thanks to the psychology professor, Eraqus, he was able to test out of many gen-ed courses. But this left Ienzo with a dilemma--namely, that he had no idea what to actually major in. It seemed like a superficial problem to have, on top of all this.

“ Precisely why I wanted you to actually take those classes,” Even told him, with a scowl. “To get to know your cohort, your community--because that influences it too.”

Ienzo pursed his lips. “Why bother, when we might have to run again at any moment? You should have at the very least given me the choice, Even.”

His disposition did not improve. “You know little of the actual world. Gods forbid I try to actually let you learn.”

“Learn what? On paper, I already know all of the content. And you don’t want me to truly get close to anyone--else you would actually let me socialize, instead of calling me until I return home.”

His head snapped up from his computer. “How dare I worry for you, you mean? If there are Heartless and seekers and goodness knows what else--”

“Even. I can take care of myself. You have to let me make my own decisions. Otherwise, what type of ruler would I ever hope to be?” A bit of an underhanded move, but true regardless.

Even turned pink, and his scowl deepened. He knew Ienzo had cornered him. “Very well . Now leave me be. I have to finish this report.”

Ienzo put on a jacket and left the house. He told Demyx he’d meet him at the streetcar station nearest the beach. He thought about what Aeleus told him, about soulmates. He thought of the warmth, the prickling he’d felt with his own magic whenever they were together. Was it possible that--?

Perhaps it was simply a silly schoolboy crush, and given that he’d never much had one on anyone else, this was just how his magic reacted normally. Surely he couldn’t simply ask Demyx what he’d felt, could he?

Something to ponder. Aeleus had said it was myth. Ienzo reminded himself to try and study more magic history. It had been some time, and he was rusty.

The streetcar was relatively empty for this time of day, so his trip was smooth and easy. Ienzo liked public transit, its cleanliness, its efficiency. If only all of life could be organized so neatly. He watched the band of sea grow closer and closer until finally the conductor urged him to get off at the terminus.

The memories of the sea were louder now, harder to fight-- Braig, where is _____?

I dunno, I just turned around for five seconds, couldn’t have gone far--

The feeling of water rushing into his lungs, sand as the riptide tossed him back and forth like a ragdoll-- then a memory he was almost certain he hadn’t recalled in some time, of another child in the water, a child with blonde hair and shiny scales guiding him towards the surface--

“Hey, Zo! You made it!”

Ienzo gasped a little. He had to have corroborated that memory. It was impossible that happened--Braig had to have been the one who saved him from drowning, or Aeleus, not some kind of--creature that looked just like the man in front of him-- “Hi, Demyx.”

He cocked his head. “You okay?”

“Yes… I… fine. Shall we?”

“Uh. Sure.”

They walked along the boardwalk, the old, sand-weathered boards creaking under their feet. Various food vendors, gift shops, and game booths dotted the surface, leading to a set of stairs down to the beach itself. “You ever been?” Demyx asked. “It’s too cold to swim, but still pretty to look at.”

Ienzo breathed that sea-tinted air, the echoes of the memory making both him and his magic feel… so very strange. Was he being put in a thrall? But this felt like none of the thralls Even and Merlin had trained him on. It did not feel like conscious magic. “Sure. Let’s go.”

They took off their shoes when they got to the water. The sand, in this twilight, was pleasantly warm. A few people milled about; the brave were swimming, some wading, others flying kites or playing with dogs or simply watching the water. They walked closely enough that every few drifts of tide, Ienzo could just barely feel the cool water on his toes. He felt… relaxed, he realized, even in the presence of this essential stranger.

“Does this remind you of your home?” Ienzo asked him. Demyx’s expression was dreamy, his eyes trained on the ocean outside.

“It… does. Whenever I really feel homesick… I come down here. It’s a little too cold for surfing now, but even just the sound of the waves… or the birds…” He sighed. “I was supposed to go back for a visit. Before it… fell.”

“I truly am sorry.”

He smiled sadly. “It’s not your fault.”

Ienzo wondered if it actually was; if he hadn’t been running, if he’d done something or fought , would Destiny Islands be whole?

Demyx took a breath. “I wanted to… talk to you about something,” he said. “And I know it’s going to sound totally insane--”

Ienzo’s heart beat harder.

“But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I wonder if it’s actually true--”

He felt almost like he couldn’t breathe, the world getting dizzy, his magic practically screaming at him to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him--

“Hey… you okay?”

Ienzo’s knees gave out, and everything went dark.

---

“...zo? Hey.”

He blinked. He was lying on the soft sand of the beach, and the right leg of his pants was awkwardly wet. “What happened?”

“You fainted. Here.” He was handed a bottle of water.

Ienzo sat up slowly. His right eye didn’t hurt, but it did feel warm, almost like it was glowing. He opened the lukewarm water and drank it.

“Sorry about your pants. I wasn’t able to fully catch you.”

“...They’ll dry.” He looked back towards the boardwalk--there were no people near them. They were almost completely alone in this strange little cove. “A… friend of mine told me a little about seekers.”

A flush brightened Demyx’s face. “What did they say?”

“He said… that you subconsciously seek out your soulmate, and when you find them, you know.” Demyx’s face was still doubled in his vision. “Is that true? Is that what you're actually seeking, not magic users to protect?"

A substantial pause. All Ienzo heard for a long moment was the waves. Then, finally, “yeah. It’s true.”

Ienzo sat up a little more. “When we…” He swallowed, and forced himself to lock eyes with him. “When we met. I felt something in my magic. I didn’t know what it was, but I wonder--”

“If we--” Demyx cut himself off. His eyes were watering.

“That wasn’t the first time we met, was it?”

“No.”

Ienzo’s heart was beating so hard. “When I was… little. My family and I took a trip to your islands. My caretaker… lost track of me, and I nearly drowned. I was saved by… something. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” The tears ran over.

“You’re not human.”

“Not completely. But neither are you.”

Ienzo shook his head slowly. “Not completely.”

Demyx took both of his hands. “I’d forgotten it… all the way up until… you saved me from that Heartless, and then I didn’t believe it was you until…”

The pull was growing stronger. “Then what are you?” Ienzo asked.

“I guess you would call it… a siren? I guess?” He bit his lip nervously. “But we… I don’t remember how, I really don’t, but I lost the ability to change form… and one day I just washed up on the beach. I forgot who I was for years .” He took out the pendant. “And since then…”

“You’ve been looking for your history and your family.”

“And you.”

Ienzo’s breath caught.

“I know we’re… we’re basically strangers, but… I know we’re…” He swiped at his eyes. “Right? You felt it too.”

Slowly… in a state of disbelief… Ienzo nodded. The prickling feeling inside of his magic only intensified. Demyx took one hand and touched his cheek. Ienzo gasped despite himself. He’d never had these feelings… maybe there was a reason --

Demyx had said he was a siren. Maybe this was all some kind of enchanting magic he’d never experienced--

But his own energy was telling him this was all truth.

Demyx leaned in a little. How had Ienzo not noticed how he smelled before? Like ginger, and salt, and something else he had no name for. “I…” Ienzo was breathing shakily. He should’ve been embarrassed, falling apart like this. “I’ve never--”

“Would you want to?” Demyx asked gently.

“Yes.” He closed the space between them, and Demyx’s lips on his shouldn’t have felt so right . It took him a moment to learn how to do it. Those callused hands tangled in his hair, pulling him a little closer--

Another stronger, warmer wave broke over him, making the fine hairs on his arms stand up straight--

Demyx broke away first, pressing his forehead against Ienzo’s. “Your hair’s glowing again,” he said softly, pressing a kiss against Ienzo’s cheek.

The pleasure he’d found quickly shattered. “No,” he said, snapping his head around to see if there were any witnesses. “Oh--”

“No one can see us,” Demyx said. “I’m blocking you from view.”

“I just--I don’t know how much magic was released by--” He licked his lips. He could still taste him, for gods’ sake, a weirdly sweet flavor.

“I’m blocking you,” Demyx repeated.

He got it. “You can… you can do that?”

“More like…” He brushed his fingers across Ienzo’s cheek. “Distracting whoever would listen. Making them think about their dinner, or…”

“Passive,” Ienzo repeated. “What do we… what now?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Demyx blinked the tears out of his eyes. “I mean… I guess…”

“Get to know each other?”

He laughed a little, and Ienzo did too.

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain this,” he told Demyx. “My father… I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on--”

“Me either.”

“I was told…” He could barely breathe. “I was told… when I didn’t understand the situation… to research. To gather data.” Demyx’s hand, against the small of his back, was so warm. His whole body felt suddenly so much more alive.

“I think I understand,” Demyx said, and kissed him again.

---

“Where have you been ?” Even’s voice was shrill, and Ienzo noted, not without worry. He was late, he knew; the sun had been down for hours. “And why are you--covered in sand ?”

Ienzo winced a little. He had a choice to make here--to lie, or tell the truth. But something this big… he had to be sure. And Even did have a nigh-bottomless knowledge of the monarchy, and Ienzo’s own magic. “I’ll… explain everything, I promise, but know I am fine . Let me clean up, and then we can…”

Even touched his shoulder. He lifted a strand of Ienzo’s hair, the tips of which were still luminous. “Oh,” he said softly. He seemed frozen; Ienzo was able to pull away with ease. Even remained there, his one hand still raised, muttering to himself.

Ienzo took a shower. His skin seemed more sensitive than before; in fact, all of his senses seemed as though a film had been peeled away. He combed his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. He took a deep breath. He put on some pajamas and rejoined Even in the parlor.

The heavy mahogany desk had been cleared off. “Up you get. Up,” Even said, steering him over. Wordlessly, Ienzo listened; the wood was cold and hard after the sand. Even forced him to lay down.

“Are you going to tell me why I was never informed about all this pairbonding nonsense?”

“Shut up ,” Even hissed. “Be still.”

Ienzo felt coldness leaching into his body, making him shudder. Even’s magic was always sharp and angular as it probed his. Finally, after what felt like a long time… the coldness dissipated. Ienzo shivered. He sat up slowly. Even was breathing hard, with an odd look on his face, as though someone had struck him. “At first I wondered… if he had placed some advanced enchantment on me,” Ienzo said. “But judging by your expression… that is not the case.”

Even seemed to be struggling. “I’d thought…” He began softly.

“You knew this was a possibility,” Ienzo said. “You knew , and you never said--” A sort of rage blotted out the coldness. “Why didn’t you--”

“It’s old magic, Ienzo,” Even said, spreading his arms. “Ancient, even.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “It’s that boy, isn’t it? The one Aeleus mentioned… the seeker?”

“So is he my mate, or isn’t he?”

“That’s for you to determine,” he said. “You needn’t… accept this bond, Ienzo.”

Ienzo thought of that kiss, and the many that had followed, the way it all made him feel .

“In fact, if you do… you might as well send up a flare saying “here I am!””

“He blocked me.”

Even’s head snapped up.

“When we were figuring this out. His magic eclipsed mine.” He knotted his hands together. “Why did you not tell me this was a possibility?”

“Because almost all seekers are dead!” Even all but yelled. “How was I to know you’d come in contact with one, much less we’d run into him here of all places? Child, did you even know which gender you favored?”

Ienzo shook his head wearily. He was tired now. “You remember that diplomatic trip we took to Destiny Islands? When I… nearly drowned?”

Even softened. “Do I remember. It’s one of the many reasons I’m going prematurely gray. It’s due to Braig’s carelessness that you almost lost your life.”

“He wasn’t the one who saved me. Demyx was.”

“Oh…” He turned pale. “And the magic released as you struggled for your life… must’ve forged that bond.” He thought a moment, then dashed over to one of the books on a bookshelf. “No matter. I’m certain there’s a spell somewhere that could break it, and you can simply--”

“Break it?” Ienzo repeated.

“Don’t tell me you want this, Ienzo?”

Ienzo’s hand fluttered to his lip without meaning to. “Would it be so terrible?” he mumbled. “Especially… if he does have a shielding property.”

Even groaned. “Child, I know you are flush with hormones, and this magic is hard to resist, but think a moment.”

The embarrassment burned his cheeks.

“How do we know he isn’t allied with Xehanort?”

“If he spent years looking for me, do you really think he’d hurt me?”

“Does he know who you truly are?”

Ienzo said nothing.

“Exactly, Ienzo. Exactly .”

He stood. “I’m going to bed,” he said.

Even followed him. “Tell me you’re not thinking about it.”

How could he not? “I think you should allow me to make my own decisions, Even.”

“Ienzo--”

“I am very tired. Good night. ”

He tramped up the stairs, reeling. So this was… true, then. He and Demyx were… A flush came over him. Even was partially correct; ever since they’d kissed on the beach, some thing had woken up in him, something hot and wanting, something that had previously been much quieter.

Ienzo drew the blinds and lay in bed. He looked at his cell phone--messages from Demyx--

I hope you got home safe. Everything feels so much louder now… I feel so awake…

Ienzo took a quick breath. I do too.

What do you want to do?

He knew what he wanted. What he said instead was, I need to know more about you. And you need to know more about me.

Just give me a time and place.

Some place private… away from those that may listen.

Leave it to me.

Ienzo set the phone aside. He started up at the moonlight playing on the ceiling. Mate , he thought. I have a mate. Someone who knew neither of his gender nor of his heritage. Someone who might try to get away from him if he found this out.

Ienzo could tell him, gauge his reactions, and wipe his memory if need be…

He wanted to trust Demyx. If his magic could protect Ienzo… could that possibly be a way for him to finally do something about Xehanort’s forces? For him to find out more information to pass on to the resistance?

He said he’d tell Riku about the resistance… but he needed to know more about him, too. Demyx was probably a good way to find out more about all this…

That kiss…

He’d known, in an aqueous sort of way, he’d likely have to have an heir at some point, and even for him children didn’t spontaneously come out of thin air. But he’d never thought of how he’d get one, nor imagined marriage, nor even… allowed himself the possibility of fantasy, of being loved. His life was too split, always on the run. How could he settle down? He’d barely had friends, much less a boyfriend or girlfriend, much less a lover-- he had not, prior to those hours on the beach, even kissed --

Kissed, and kissed, and kissed…

He traced the material of his waistband absently. Perhaps Even was right, he had to ignore this impulse.

He felt awake, and a little less alone. Perhaps it was for this reason, but he let his hand slip below the waistband, to feel at skin he normally avoided, to stroke it gently and imagine he was not the one touching it--

He gasped, feeling it break over him, and instead of feeling shame as usual, he instead felt release, felt… hope.

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #even (kingdom hearts)#aeleus #au #soulmates au #alternate universe

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my-creative-hell · 4 years

Text

Valentines (Teen au)

“Dad?” Grave pushes the door to Iden’s room open gently, her skin glowing slightly, though she keeps her voice quiet.

“Morning sweetheart.” Iden smiles as he turns over in the bed, stirring from his sleep happily.

“Do you know what day it is?” Grave questions, smiling as she sits next to Iden on the bed, feeling excited.

“Hm… let me see. Might it be valentines?” Iden sits up in his bed as he smiles knowingly, hugging Grave gently.

“Maybe…” Grave admits, returning the hug happily as her mind runs off with many thoughts about how the day would go.

“Excited?” Iden laughs as he see’s his daughters mind go into a world of her own, his voice low and joyful.

“Yes!!!” Grave exclaims, glowing more as she hides her face, her mind racing as Iden laughs louder.

“Oh! I forgot to mention, auntie Hannah brought over some small cakes for you to give to the girls.” Iden explains, carrying Grave gently as he gets off of his bed.

“Yay!!!” Grave wiggles excitedly as Iden carries her down the stairs carefully, Misty running around downstairs.

“What are you gonna do with the girls?” Iden questions, smiling softly as he holds Grave.

“I-I… I dunno, I’ve never gotten this far!” Grave explains, trying to think of ideas as Iden puts her down gently.

“Well… what do they like?” Iden questions, wanting to help Grave out as Misty pads quietly into the room, searching for his breakfast.

“Oh, Rose likes space! Like… a lot.” Grave thinks her options over, coming up with a simple plan for the day.

“Well, that’s somewhere to start.” Iden notes, smiling as he watches Grave think of more ideas.

“Hmmmmm…” Grave tries to think more, her brain pulling a blank as she places her head in her hands.

“Can’t think of Scarlet?” Iden questions, smiling as he watches Grave struggle silently.

“Yeah, I dunno what she likes!” Grave frowns, feeling slightly disheartened by this realisation.

“Well, I think I know one thing.” Iden tries to raise her spirits, gently poking Grave’s nose as he speaks.

“What is it?” Grave questions, buzzing happily as she smiles, making Iden laugh at her excitement.

“Well, she seems to really like sweet things, especially red velvet cake, which is what Hannah made for her.” Iden explains calmly.

“Aaa!” Grave hides her face as she glows even more, her scream happy and quiet as she does.

“You’re gonna have a fun time with them.” Iden smiles, gently patting Grave on the back as she hides her face.

“I sure hope so!” Grave blushes slightly as she thinks about it, making Iden laugh as he squeezes her gently.

“I’m sure you will!” He exclaims happily. “Oh, Hannah asked for you to pop into the bakery before you go to theirs and get them, said she got some things to help you.” Iden explains.

“Rad!!!” Grave squeaks softly, buzzing happily as she looks up at Iden, her mind racing with thoughts.

“Why don’t you get dressed and go catch her, I’m sure she’ll let you nab a muffin for breakfast.” Iden smiles as he speaks.

“Okay!” Grave presses a happy kiss to Iden’s cheek as she runs upstairs to her room to get changed, Iden smiling as he brew some coffee, Misty jumping around the kitchen.

“Um…” Grave stands in front of her closet, looking at her clothes as she thinks, unsure if she should attempt to be fancy or wear something she would normally wear on any other day.

It only takes a few moments for Grave to make her decision, putting on a large dad shirt before wandering downstairs again.

“How do I look?” Grave questions, feeling excited as she talks to Iden, who is holding his coffee gingerly in his hands.

“You look great!” Iden smiles as Misty adds a quiet bark of agreement, his tail wagging happily.

“Thank you!” Grave smiles, wiggling happily as she squeaks, making Iden laugh quietly.

“You’re welcome kiddo. Now, best be off to the bakery before it gets too late.” He reminds her gently.

“Right!” Grave gives Iden a quick kiss as she runs out the door, clipping through it instead of actually opening it, making Iden smile as he pets Misty.

Grave walks, glowing as she speeds into the town, feeling happy as she spots the bakery owned by her aunt, walking inside.

“Hi!!!” Grave enters the shop cheerily, Hannah smiling as she comes out of the back with a fresh tray of cakes.

“Hey kiddo.” She returns the greeting warmly, setting down the tray as she speaks.

“It’s Valentines Day!” Grave exclaims, fiddling with her hands excitedly, unsure of what else to say.

“It is… I’m gonna assume your dad sent you to get the stuff?” Hannah questions, laughing quietly at Grave’s excitement.

“Mhm!” Grave nods, her skin glowing, making Hannah laugh more as she leans behind the counter, grabbing something.

“Alright, I got you a few things pertaining to each of their likes… sound good?” Hannah explains, smiling.

“Sounds great!” Grave confirms, squeaking quietly as she waits, buzzing loudly as she tries to remain still.

“Okay… so I got some space pyjamas for Rose, as well as some glow in the dark sticky stars for her room and a plush. Scarlet was harder, specially since she’s been sick…” Hannah explains, bringing out a bag of wrapped presents.

“Oh no… I hope she gets better soon.” Grave takes the presents gratefully, frowning slightly at the news.

“But, I did manage to find out she apparently has a love for anything fluffy… so, I got her a fluffy hoodie and a blanket and socks and I put some medicine in there for her.” Hannah smiles warmly.

“Soft things for a cool person!!!” Grave smiles brightly, bouncing in excitement as she speaks, too happy to think about anything else.

“Ya eaten anythin yet hun?” Hannah questions, leaning against the counter as she smiles.

“Um… no, I don’t think so!” Grave thinks for a moment before answering, her smile large and happy, making Hannah snort in amusement.

“Well, I’ve got some blueberry muffins that just came out of the oven, you can have one of them.” She offers, handing Grave a package of muffins to go with her presents. “Also, these are the muffins for you and the girls, got their favourite flavours in there.” Hannah explains quietly.

Grave squeaks, too happy to even speak as she wiggles contently, making Hannah laugh.

“Alright kiddo, careful or ya might explode.” She cautions jokingly, handing Grave a blueberry muffin to eat.

“I don’t wanna explode! I can’t talk to Rose and Scarlet if I’m an explosion.” Grave giggles as she takes the muffin gladly.

“Exactly.” Hannah smiles. “So you better eat up and go get them, cause I’m sure they’re excited to see you.” She explains calmly.

“I think I’ll eat while I go.” Grave explains, smiling. “Bye bye, Auntie!” Grave smiles as she leaves the bakery, biting into her muffin.

“See ya kiddo!” Hannah waves as she watches her leave, returning to her work for the day.

Grave finishes her muffin quickly, feeling excited as she skips down the streets towards Rose’s home.

Grave arrives at Rose’s home quickly, her knocking on the door soft and quiet despite the swelling excitement inside of her.

“Hey hon.” Rose’s aunt, Robin opens the door, smiling warmly as she see’s Grave standing outside.

“Hi, its Valentines Day!!!!” Grave exclaims, too happy to think of any other words as she speaks.

“It is. Rose it just getting ready, come inside.” Robin explains, opening the door more for Grave.

“How are you?” Grave wiggles happily as she enters the house, playing with her hands as Robin pats her gently on the head.

“I’m doing well, as I hope you are.” She returns the sentiment, smiling warmly as she leads Grave inside, closing the door behind them.

“I’m doing great!!! I feel very excited and I can’t stay still!!!!” Grave explains, wiggling happily as Robin laughs softly.

“Well that’s only natural when you get to spend the entire day with people you love… do you know what you’re doing?” She questions.

“Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing!” Grave nods, playing with her hands more as Robin smiles.

“I know Rose has been looking forward to seeing you.” She explains softly, her expression warm and kind.

“S-She has?” Grave blushes, looking down at her feet at this information as Robin bites back a laugh.

“Of course she has!” She explains, Rose coming down the stairs as she speaks, wearing an appropriately themed red dress.

“H-Hi Rose…” Grave greets Rose quietly, her face flushing as red as her dress as she looks at her.

“Hi!” Rose encases Grave in a happy hug, kissing her gently as she wraps around her, feeling warm and content.

“Y-You look beautiful…” Grave giggles quietly, returning the kiss as she looks at Rose, in awe.

“Thank you, you look amazing too!” Rose blushes at the compliment, smiling down at Grave.

“Not as good as you, I-I’m just wearing a dad shirt!” Grave protests, playing with her hands.

“But its you! So I love it.” Rose explains, smiling as she grabs her coat, sliding it on effortlessly.

“That’s so cheesy… I love it!” Grave giggles, her face flushing more, red as Rose stands next to her.

“Shall we be off?” Rose laughs quietly, smiling as Robin waves to them both silently.

“We shall!” Grave holds Rose’s hand as she waves to Robin, both of them leaving Rose’s home, walking towards Scarlet’s house together.

“I have a surprise for both of you, but you’ve gotta wait.” Grave explains, glowing happily as she giggles.

“Oh! Sounds interesting!” Rose smiles as she walks with Grave, feeling excited as they move.

“It i s!” Grave agrees, her heart fit to burst with how much happiness it contains as she hears Rose giggle.

“Shame Scarlet’s not feeling well… but we get to smother her in love!” Rose smiles, squeezing Grave’s hand gently.

“Yes!!! She deserves all the love!” Grave squeaks, a large smile on her face as she looks up at Rose.

“Especially since she’s been ill.” Rose explains, smiling softly. “I don’t know if she’ll be allowed out, so maybe we should spend the day with her in her room?” She offers her idea quietly.

“Yes, that’s a great idea!!!” Grave nods, agreeing as she glows, feeling excited to see both of her girlfriends together.

“I think we’re close!!” Rose giggles as she spots Scarlet’s home, her face lighting up happily.

“Good!!!” Grave gasps softly, pulling on Rose’s hand gently as she begins to walk faster, making Rose laugh.

“Yay! This is gonna be fun!” Rose smiles as they approach the large house, Grave knocking clearly on the front door, wiggling in excitement as she waits for someone to answer.

“Well hello girls!” Scarlet’s dad answers the door, smiling brightly as she see’s the two of them.

“Hi!!! I-It’s Valent-…oh wait, you know that already.” Grave cuts herself off, giggling as she grins happily.

“Scarlet’s made me very aware, I assure you. Here to see her?” Scarlet’s dad laughs heartily, looking down at Grave.

“Yes!!!” Grave nods excitedly, tapping her feet against the floor as she wiggles, unable to contain herself.

“She’s still getting over that flu, so I’m not sure if she’s awake yet, but you’re welcome to go and see her in her room.” Scarlet’s dad smiles kindly, letting Grave and Rose inside the house, closing the door behind them.

Grave flaps her hands, too excited for words as she walks up the stairs, Rose giggling quietly behind her as she follows along, both of them arriving at Scarlet’s closed bedroom door.

Grave knocks on the door softly, despite every urge in her body demanding she kick the door down in excitement. Scarlet doesn’t answer to the knocking, the room beyond the door silent and still.

“Should we open the door?” Grave questions, thinking over their options as she asks Rose.

“If she’s still asleep she won’t wake up otherwise…” Rose explains, smiling softly as she looks at Grave.

“True… and she might be spooked if she wakes up and we’re just in her room.” Grave explains, nodding as she giggles.

“We’ll just have to wake her up gently.” Rose offers, patting Grave’s shoulder gently as she smiles.

“Good idea!” Grave smiles happily as she wiggles, opening the door quietly, revealing Scarlet still asleep curled up in her large bed. Her face is flushed slightly with heat, though most of her symptoms seem to have died down now.

“You wanna wake her up or…? Should we do it together?” Grave questions, glowing more as she sees Scarlet, her voice hushed.

“Together I think.” Rose smiles as she looks at Grave, her expression soft and gentle. Grave holds her hand happily, gently poking Scarlet.

“Welp, that didn’t work.” Grave jokes, making Rose giggle quietly as she drags her down to sit on Scarlet’s bed beside her, carefully shaking Scarlet.

“Wake up, there’s dogs outside!” Grave coaxes, poking Scarlet gently as she sits on the bed. Scarlet turns in her bed, facing them as she begins to stir from her sleep.

“Its time to be gay, stop sleeping.” Grave encourages her, gently poking her nose as Scarlet wakes up more.

“Hi…” Scarlet’s voice is quiet and small as she speaks, smiling softly as she rubs at her eyes.

“Hi!!!” Grave squeaks, managing to keep her voice quiet despite her building excitement.

“Glad to see you feeling a bit better.” Rose comments, smiling gently as she watches Scarlet.

“Oh! I-I have some medicine for you, my auntie got it.” Grave explains, thinking her words over.

“That’s so sweet…” Scarlet smiles, gently pushing herself up into a sitting position in her bed.

“Have!!!” Grave pulls out the medicine, handing it to Scarlet as she smiles kindly, making Scarlet giggle. She reads the label as Rose pulls herself under the covers, moving Grave to sandwich Scarlet between them.

“Mmm… you can’t escape now. You’ve been trapped in l o v e!” Grave presses a soft kiss to Scarlet’s forehead.

“I’m too sick to protest…” She conceded, giggling as she takes a dose of the medicine, snuggling into the bed.

“That’s good! …Ish.” Grave laughs quietly. “But love and medicine will make you all better and then we can screm!”

“That sounds nice.” Scarlet smiles as Rose squishes her slightly, making her feel safe and comfortable.

Grave kisses both of them happily, getting quiet for a moment before gasping, remembering the presents. She buzzes as she reaches for the bag to pull them out.

“Should we find a gay movie to watch?” Rose questions, laughing softly as she hugs Scarlet.

“Yes!!! The gayer the better!” Grave exclaims, pulling out the presents and giving them to Rose and Scarlet. “T-These are for you two, by the way…” She explains, keeping quiet.

“Really?” Rose’s face lights up in excitement as she looks to Grave, her eyes wide.

“O-Of course!” Grave blushes as she looks at Rose, looking away as Rose smiles sweetly.

“This is so cool!” Rose unwraps her presents as Scarlet puts on a movie for the three of them, grinning happily.

“I-I’m glad you like it…” Grave blushes more as she hides her face, though it doesn’t stop Rose from attacking her with kisses as Scarlet open her gifts. A small pause follows her opening the presents before she proceeds to put on the fluffy socks and hoodie, wrapping herself up in the plush blanket happily.

“We’ve got a blanket burrito gorl!!!” Grave exclaims, giggling as she returns the kisses softly, glowing with joy.

“Thank you.” Scarlet smiles as she snuggles into her new fluffy clothing, feeling warm and protected.

“You’re welcome!” Grave smiles as she hands Rose the container of muffins. “A-Also these…” She explains as Rose hugs her.

“Aw, your Aunt put all our favourite flavours in here. Grave, there’s one for you too!” Rose smiles as she looks at the cakes.

“Really?” Grave glows softly as she watches Rose unpack the cakes for each of them.

“Blueberry like you love!” Rose nods, smiling as she hands Grave her muffin gently.

“Yay!!!” Grave squeaks happily, starting to eat her muffin in joy as Rose smiles, her and Scarlet eating their own quietly.

“Guess what?” Grave questions, glowing as she speaks to the two of them, feeling happy.

“What?” Scarlet wiggles as she bites into her muffin, looking at Grave questioningly as she waits for the answer.

“I love you!!!” Grave exclaims, covering the both of them in affectionate kisses, making Scarlet blush red.

“We love you too!” Rose giggles as she watches Scarlet hide in her blanket, too flustered to speak.

“Aaaaa!!!” Grave glows more as she hides her face, making Rose smiles as she litters it with kisses anyway, Scarlet leaning against Grave’s shoulder gently.

“I’m gonna d i e!” Grave blushes more as she giggles, making Rose smile as she sits back.

“Don’t die.” Scarlet urges quietly, nuzzling into Grave softly as she speaks, warm and comfortable.

“But you’re too c u t e and I’m allergic to that! Its surprising I didn’t die when I first saw you two!!” Grave protests, buzzing softly.

“Aw, well we’re glad you didn’t. Why don’t we calm down and watch the movie, yeah?” Rose giggles quietly as she looks at Grave.

“Yes please.” Grave nods, pulling both of them into a warm hug as she watches; Scarlet humming happily as Rose strokes her fingers through her hair.

Grave melts into the touch, hiding her face in Rose as she giggles, giving Grave gentle head strokes as well as they sit.

“I’m gonna turn into mush!” Grave cautions, her heart warm and fuzzy feeling as she sits.

“I can’t kiss mush!” Rose protests, smiling down at Grave as she scoots closer to them both.

“Okay f i n e, I wont be mush…” Grave concedes, littering Rose’s face in kisses as she giggles, hugging Grave and Scarlet gently.

Grave presses some soft kisses to Scarlet’s face as she closes her eyes, basking in the warmth as Rose smiles, stroking their hair softly as Grave starts to feel sleepy.

“I think the meds you gave her might have had a drowsy effect…” Rose snickers, referencing Scarlet quietly.

“Maybe! But sleeping is good. You can sleeb away bad things.” Grave explains, smiling as she opens her eyes, able to see Scarlet leaning against her shoulder, all but asleep.

“So cute…” Grave giggles quietly, gently poking Scarlet’s nose as she keeps her voice quiet as Rose smiles, littering her face with small kisses.

“Mmmnot here.” Grave returns the kisses as she hides her face, making Rose smile more as she hugs them both.

“But you are.” Rose argues quietly, letting Scarlet fall asleep comfortably between them.

“But what if… I’m not?” Grave presses, trying not to giggle as she speaks, making Rose laugh quietly.

“But you are, and I’m happy for that.” Rose explains, her voice soft and sweet as honey.

“You’re so mushy!” Grave giggles as she comes out of hiding, making Rose smile as she presses a gentle kiss to her face.

“That’s g a y.” Grave gasps quietly as she giggles, making Rose laugh as she gently strokes through her hair.

Grave blushes as she closes her eyes, Rose feeling warm and calm as Scarlet leans against her, fully asleep now.

Grave starts to feel sleepy as she presses their foreheads together, Rose humming a soft melody for her as she too falls asleep, Rose shortly following as they hold each other securely.

#writing #original writing #My writing #writing with friends #not my oc #others ocs #original characters #original story #teen au #alternate universe #sleepisafuckinglie #House of Hell

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thatwritingho · 5 years

Text

Momento Mori

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“So, how are you boys feeling about Olive? Any, ah, thoughts? Concerns?”

The band had reconvened in the meeting room after the spur of the moment autopsy demonstration(there was, luckily, always a dead body on hand at Mordhaus, what with the employee death rate), Olive having been dismissed for the remainder of the day to finish settling in, set to start her duties the following day.

“I dunno, dood, I mean, she seems kinda fahked in the head a bit,” Pickles was the first to comment as he popped the cap to a fresh beer, recalling how she had enthusiastically prattled on about different diseases and birth defects that were possible in each organ as she had removed it, “but in like, y'know, a good way.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, pretty sure people aren’t supposed to be, like, that happy when talking about flesh eating viruses,” Nathan took a swig from his own beer as the rest of the band nodded in agreement. “But uh… watching her slice that guy open? That was, uh, pretty fucking brutal. And really hot.”

Murdeface crossed his arms and reclined back in his seat, eyeing all his bandmates before staring down Charles.

“Schure, schesch a babe and all, but isch sche really good enough to be the doctor for Dethklok? I mean, we’re talkin our health here, guysch! What'sch more important than that?”

Pickles scoffed at Murderace’s attempt to be devil’s advocate, giving him a skeptical sideways glance.

“Dood, since when do yeh care aboot bean’ healthy?”

“Ya, Moidaface! Yous just wants to bes a dick!” Toki glanced to Charles, nodding his head. “I likes her, I thinks she should stays.”

“Thank you, Toki.” The bespectacled man cleared his throat, “I can, ah, assure you, Murderface, that she is more than qualified for this position. I did screen her myself, after all. Her capabilities are on par with anyone else I would have considered, but she is the only one who met all of your, ah, selected criteria.”

“Yeh mean shes da only one who wasn’t some crusty old dood like our other dahctors?”

“Yes, Pickles, precisely,” Charles’ attention turned to the blonde busily plucking away at his guitar, the only one who had yet to provide any feedback. “Ah, Skwisgaar, anything to say? About Olive?”

“Ja, I woulds do hers, evens if she ams creepys.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Charles could only sigh as the conversation quickly devolved into Skwisgaar and Nathan discussing the do-ability of his newest hire.

“That’s, ah, not what I meant. At all. But I would like to go ahead and ask that all of you refrain from any attempt at a physical or romantic relationship with her, since she is your, ah, employee. It would make for a difficult sexual harrassment case, were anything to go sour, and we can all agree that we don’t need another one of those? Yes?”

Charles knew the disgruntled, grumbled agreements from around the room were the only affirmation he would receive.

“Alright then. Since we are, ah, all in agreement, I shall have her follow through with the two week trial as planned, and then you can make your final decision. In the mean time, I would like for her to conduct a routine physical exam on each of you to learn all of your, ah, various health conditions.”

“What!? A fuckin check up!? Didn’t we juscht have one of thosche?”

“Well, Murderface, that was, ah, last year. An annual physical is crucial for prevention of the onset of illnesses. And as I said, she needs to familiarize herself with your, ah, your… bodies.”

The immature snickering around the table at his last sentence was expected, as was Muderface’s continued outbursts.

“Scho we’re gonna have to take our clothesch off and get poked and prodded by thisch chick? And you exschpect us to not even fuck her? Isch sche gonna schtick her finger up our asschesch too?!”

“Pfft, like she woulds evens thinks about fuckings you, Moidaface.”

“Yeah, I uh, feel bad for her, y’know, having to see him naked and all. It’ll, uh, probably blind her. Scar her for life or… something.”

The bassist stood abruptly at the taunting, chair screeching back as he threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Fuck thisch!”

“Murderface, please sit down” Charle’s took a moment to close his eyes and inhale deeply through his nose as Murdeface plopped back down in his seat with a scowl. “I hired her to be the band physician, remember? What else did you expect if not a typical examination? Regardless, I have, ah, other matters to attend to. Any other questions or comments? No? Excellent.”

Charles made for the door quickly, but turned back around and addressed the room before exiting fully, “And, ah, everyone, please be sober for your physicals tomorrow, ok?”

He knew it was a pointless request, as confirmed by their halfhearted agreements, but at least he could say he tried.

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD

The formidable wooden door to her temporary housing closed heavily behind Olive, and she leaned back against the hard wood to kept herself upright, heart pounding in her chest as she finally let herself be overcome by the pure, raw emotions she had kept at bay for the past few hours, a ridiculous squeal bubbling forth from her throat as she smiled a big, jaw-achingly large smile.

“Holy SHIT!”

With that exclamation, she hurriedly kicked off her heels and propelled herself onto the plush mattress, latching onto a pillow and burying her face in the fluff to muffle her thrilled screeching, feet kicking childishly in an attempt to relieve the tension caused by excitement-fueled adrenaline coursing through her body.

Once thoroughly satisfied with the amount of emotion released, she surfaced from the pillow for air, face red and hair wildly askew, and snatched her phone, sitting up to type a brief message to her twin sister, telling her of the good news and promising a more detailed phone call later that night, not trusting herself to be able to form coherent enough sentences to hold a conversation at the moment. Despite this, she was still bursting with the need to talk to someone out loud to organize her thoughts, and so turned to the only other being in the room, who was currently curled up and napping under his wooden tunnel.

“Sorry to wake you, Apophis, but I have to tell you about this!”

Said reptile lazy curled itself around her arm as she held the appendage in front of her, flat head resting on the back of her hand as he blinked slowly, paying as much attention as a snake could.

“I don’t even know where to start, they were so much better in person than I could have imagined! Fuck! They’re all so so cool, so beautiful, too! And Murrderface and Skwisgaar were totally checking me out, can you believe it? Oh my god, you were right about picking out this outfit, man. And they wanted me to do an autopsy for them! God, you should’ve been there, their faces when I made the Y incision were fucking priceless, like they didn’t think I’d actually be able to do it. Fuckers. Nathan seemed really into it, though, I think he said in an interview once that his favorite subject in school was, like, frog dissection or something fucked up like that.”

Sucking in a big breath after her long winded jabbering, a concerned look crossed her face as the long bodied creature shifted, raising its head to stare at her from eye level.

“Oh! Don’t worry, they don’t dissect snakes in school, just frogs. I’d never let anyone hurt you anyway, you know that.”

Seemingly abated, he settled back down, once more relaxing against her hand.

“Man, dude, there’s no way I can focus enough to unpack, damn. I’m supposed to give them my first physical exams tomorrow. I’m so nervous, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. What if I fuck up? What if they fire me before I even get a chance to know them? Oh my god why did I think I could do this?”

Her audience merely flicked his tongue at her in annoyance.

“Yeah, you’re right, man. Fuck it. Whatever happens, happens. I’ll be fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. Totally fine. The finest I’ve ever been. Yep”

The nervous laugh following her attempt at self assurance would have made Apophis roll his eyes, if such a thing were possible for a snake to do.

“Dude, are you drunk? Seriously?”

Olive, clad in your stereotypical white lab coat over a simple form fitting black dress, clipboard in hand, stared in disbelief at the massive front man sitting before her on the exam chair.

“Uh… I mean, I only had a, uh, a couple of beers. Not uh, not enough to get me drunk, or… anything.”

Dark eyes could only blink at him incredulously.

“Man, I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here, and it’s not just beer.”

Nathan at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish at that, averting his eyes to stare at one of the many anatomical diagrams on the wall.

“I, uh.. I didn’t think it would matter.”

The newly appointed physician could only sigh.

Damn he looks adorable.

“It’s ok. We can just, um, try this again tomorrow. But no drinking before, ok? I mean it. I can’t get proper readings while you’re intoxicated, yeah?”

A deep grunt was his only reply as he hopped to the floor, boots thudding loudly from the impact, silky hair flowing around his shoulders. As he strode past her for the door, Olive couldn’t help but shudder a bit at how much bigger he was than her, his broad frame casting a large shadow over her own small one, a shiver going down her spine at his deep voice when he mumbled a half assed “sorry” before slamming the door shut behind him.

There was only one word for the look Skwisgaar Skwigelf was leveling her with right now; dangerous.

“How’s does yous wants me, doctor?”

She had wondered for years, about how women could keep throwing themselves at this man, keep having his love children when they knew there was no hope for anything more than meaningless sex with someone probably riddled with STDs, destined to be a soon forgotten face among the hundreds of other who had fallen victim to his charms.

But that look. Like he wanted to devour her, make her fully and wholly his, devote his entire being to pleasuring her and only her. The way his voice dropped and sent chills down her spine when he spoke her title. It was a pull unlike any attraction she had experienced before.

Fucking hell. I get it now.

The blonde was standing just slightly closer than would be considered appropriate, towering over her, leaning forward slightly as he waited for instruction, a knowing smile curling onto his face as Olive cleared her throat and looked away.

Damn him.

“Just, um, on the exam chair, and take your shirt and pants off.”

He leaned back from from her and sauntered away, stretching his long arms above his head as he removed his shirt, making a show of it as he carelessly tossed the article of clothing on a nearby chair, glancing back at her over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his pants and let them drop as he hopped up.

Oh, you motherfucker. I’m not that easy.

Victory was claimed as hers when the obnoxiously attractive smirk fell from his face, replaced by an annoyed pout at her next words as she tapped her pen on the clipboard.

“So. Let’s talk about your rather extenisive history of STDs.”

“No fuckin way. You can kissch my assch if you think I’m gonna strip for you so you can jab at me like that schtiff from yeschterday.”

Olive sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Man, come on, seriously, you have to take your shirt off for me to do this right.”

Murderface crossed his arms protectively over his chest, turning his nose up and looking away childishly with a small ‘hmph.’

“Look, I’m not going to slice you open. You gotta at least take me on a date first before I’ll go that far with you.”

The brunette turned to her fully and raised his lip in an attempt at distaste, which was overthrow as he failed to fight off a smile at her lame joke, a soft pink blush creeping on his cheeks at the implication.

“Fine. But juscht don’t try any funny sctuff, or I’ll kick your assch.”

Her snicker made his face redden deeper.

“Noted.”

The scars greeting her from Toki’s bare back were alarming, to say the least. But they were old, multiple years old, the skin long healed and morphed into a pale off white, with only a few remaining a light, almost imperceptible pink. He was tense and silent, breathing shallowly, probably waiting for her to ask, but she wasn’t going to.

No need to bring up bad memories. Just get the basics without being direct.

“Have you had any surgeries or broken bones in your life?”

“No skurgeries, buts a fews bones breaks when I was littles.”

“Were you medically treated for them? Did they heal properly? Ever have any pain in those areas, like when the weather changes?”

“Um, sometimes, whens it about to starts raingings. Deys ache.”

Olive nodded, scribbling the info down on his chart in her messy handwriting, not missing how he avoided the first two questions.

“Alright, you can get dressed, I think I got everything I needed.”

The guitarist exhaled a slightly uneven breath, muscles relaxing as he yanked his shirt back on, shooting the woman before him a thankful look and settling back on the exam chair.

“You’re in the best shape of anyone else I’ve seen so far, man. Keep it up.”

One congratulatory pat on the shoulder later and Toki was exiting the room, yelling to someone in the waiting area as he walked out that he was better than them.

A long, weary sigh snuck it’s way past Olive’s lips as she waited for her last patient of the day to arrive, mulling over her previous interactions with the band.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

“Long day, huh?”

Chuckling tiredly, she turned to greet the redhead as he meandered in, bee lining for the exam chair and hoisting himself up without being asked, settling at the very edge of the cushion.

“Yeah, man, just a bit.”

Green eyes sparkled at her in amusement, pierced brow raising as he began to tap out a light beat with his feet, elbows resting on his knees.

“Yehp, the other guys can be real douchebags aboot this stuff. Hope dey didn’t give yeh too much trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” the response was automatic and half-hearted as she scribbled a note about his fidgeting on the clipboard in hand.

“Dat so?”

She looked up at that and immediately regretted it. There was that damned side grin of his again.

“Y- yeah.”

Oh my god did I just fucking stutter?

It took all she had for her newly weak knees to not give out under her as he gave her a wink.

“Atta girl.”

This man is going to be the death of me.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Lots of dialogue in this, hope I didn’t ruin it. Comments are my life blood!

#metalocalypse #dethklok #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #william murderface #charles foster offdensen #writting #momento mori

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feanor-the-dragon · 5 years

Note

they probably did set up some protections for you, but please be careful and cautious regardless and if you’re referring to the Fair Folk (especially if you’ve had run-ins on multiple occasions) please please please read up on lore because it’s likely they’ve taken an interest in you if they’ve come to you a number of times. your friend may be strong but they are very cunning.

I am cautious... once I realize what’s up. And I read that stuff all the time. I love it. Favorite thing to read, really. The problem is they don’t really come to me (often). I end up coming to them, quite unintentionally and unexpectedly (by all parties).

I just... have a way of making friends with things that shouldn’t be friend-able. My sister jokes that I’m a disney princess. I had a deer at my old house that would follow me when I walked the trails alone. She would snuff around in my pockets in search of another nature valley bar to steal like she did the first time she followed me (sometimes, I’d carry one, completely out of the wrapper, just for her). There was also a lynx in those same woods that would sometimes wander up, rub affectionately against my legs, and accept pets and ear-scritches for a bit before wandering off again (this scared me quite a bit the first time, so it didn’t get ear scritches or pets until the second meeting). Neither of those animals, obviously, made a habit of letting people get close.

More recently, a coyote trotted up to me as I was leaving the taco bell I used to work at around 1am. She too snuffed at my pockets in search of food and accepted pets and ear-scritches for a bit before loping off into the night (at which point I realized I’d been petting a coyote. Like, I know a feral dog with no collar should’ve also worried me, but I was like, coyotes don’t even... like people? it turned out that the coyotes in that area are particularly skittish, and for one to be in town at all was extremely unusual.). I have occasionally wondered if she wanted me to follow her. I have sometimes wondered what she might have shown me. Generally, I’m relieved I didn’t, but I do wonder.

Then, there are the smaller, everyday things. I started a long time ago tolerating spiders in my room but laying down ground rules to them out loud when I noticed them: No webs over where I sleep, please don’t string webs across places where I walk, for the love of everything nice in the world do not crawl on me uninvited, please also don’t crawl over where I sleep while I’m in bed, get rid of the roaches and mosquitoes and stuff, etc, and we can be friends. It started as a sort of joke to make myself comfortable, but then I noticed... they were all, doing those things? And when I mentioned to friends and family that spiders are actually very well behaved as long as you leave them in peace, they were like no? no they aren’t? Additionally, my room was always mosquito and roach free, while the rest of the house was often pointedly not. And I’m like, have you tried talking to them about it? and we laughed, but I was kinda not kidding.

I also have hummingbirds regularly land on my glasses or hat brim, sparrows have ridden my shoulders for miles during hikes, and housepets that generally hate people tolerate and sometimes even like me, to the surprise of their owners.

I don’t think that... charisma works on other people. I’ve been informed that my dorkiness has a bit of charm once you get to know me, and I find that sometimes, friends I thought were a little more distant actually count me close enough to, say, fly me across the country on their own dime so I can be a groomsman at their wedding. but still, most people find me... odd at first (possibly because I’m not really myself until I’m comfortable around them, but still). I dunno about that. I tend to just let friends... drift off, if they wanna drift, and that’s happened a lot, so I don’t think it really works much on other people.

On other people, though, it seems to keep me in good favor long enough to realize what’s going on and navigate my way politely out.

The ones that do actually visit me are usually friendly. I recognize a few of them when I see them now. Sometimes, we swap stories or recommend books to each other. There is one that plays video games, and is particularly fond of Pokemon (I cannot imagine why a thing like that might appeal to one of the neighborly folk... what with capturing characters and basically binding them into your service). I enjoy talking with that one. Mostly these visits seem to happen by coincidence, though in some cases I do wonder, and the gamer has commissioned a handful of artworks from me, which they usually collect personally, shortly after I finish (never at my house). I usually accept interesting and/or mildly other baubles as payment for those.

Occasionally I think about trying to make an actual trade, like, a premeditated, planned thing for like, telekinesis or something, but I find the trinkets and knicknacks we happen to have on ourselves when we meet are more amusing, and I imagine they are also far, far safer.

The dangerous visitors leave me alone now, mostly. I don’t go looking for them, certainly, and they seem to dislike being around me when we do run into each other.

I make a habit of using rune protections on things like my computer and any notebooks I have private information on. I also keep salt in my car, just in case. I guess that means I practice a little? I’m more of an “invoke meaning of a symbol” than “reach out to a spirit or higher power” sort of guy, personally. And I just kind of... dabble in little charms. (I would love to like, make a fireball spell or something, but I get the impression that that is either completely impossible or extremely ill-advised)

I also make “chainmail” rings using iron or steel jump rings linked together and stretched between a pair of steel or iron key rings. I started making those as a sort of fidget toy, but they seem popular with my practicing friends (circles on circles, rings on rings... I can’t imagine why). I keep at least one of them on my person, also just in case.

My friend doesn’t think that they’re a very strong person, but I know they are. I make sure to tell them this often. And I am nothing if not enthusiastic in my thirst for lore, and I am, if I do say so myself, quite crafty with my hands. Being a lover of rules-lawyering doesn’t hurt either. Thank you for the warning though, my friend. Dumb luck is certainly not a thing to just rely on. I shall remain vigilant and appropriately paranoid.

#asks #ask #fae #things that have actually happened to me #true story #no really

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fallen029 · 5 years

Text

Remember Me: Time Away

It had been a hard adjustment for the swordswoman, the addition of two young boys into her life. She'd lived alone, after all, for most of her life up until that point and to suddenly have two rambunctious children in constant need of her attention, devotion, or, at the very least, her to provide them meals, shelter, and protection (they were frequently on the outs with Master Laxus), was not exactly something Erza was prepared for.

Still, the harsh realities of caring for young kids was, honestly, a welcomed challenge for Titania. She'd gone through so much in her life, yet children were something that would, more than likely, always escape her otherwise. She never foresaw herself as ending up with someone who would be able to settle down and start a family. She doubted, truly, if she would ever feel that calling in her life at all. Surely, if he was going to, it would have by that point. And yet, there she was, before the boys' arrival, never once getting that urge. That yearning. She didn't wish or long for the life that she was watching her friends have. That time away from training and magic all just to give birth to a child.

No.

There were many reasons that she did not wish for this and many more than it was just an improbability she ever would.

Yet, there was a bit of a desire, perhaps, one that had always been bubbling under the surface. Erza saw herself as, above all other amazing things she also saw herself as, an amazing teacher. Someone that a young person could learn a lot from. And she got that, the day that Ravan and Kai officially began to stay in her home. Though he rejected it (as he rejected most things), the oldest of the two orphans was very much so her student and his younger brother was, truly, just a mess.

A complete mess.

But Erza's mess. She knew this responsibility and wore it well, disapproving stares and all. She woke up each morning to Kai and his antics, as well as Ravan's, should he be around (he was taking jobs much more often now), and typically kept him in her mind when it came to her day to day plans.

Which is why, day in advance, she planned for him to be staying with the Dreyars while she took a trip away.

"But why do you gotta go away? If it ain't on a job?" he complained slightly (and only slight; he was kind of pumped about spending the night with his best friend Marin Dreyar) as Erza stood over him one day, watching him go around his bedroom, preparing a bag. "And why can't I go with you?"

"I have yet to see you pack underwear," she remarked simply before, with a sigh, answering his question instead. "And can we not get a break from one another? You and I? I'm sure you will be glad to be rid of me for a few days."

"Days?" He frowned from over at the dresser he shared with his brother. He was desperately trying to find some underwear to pack because then Erza would find out that he hadn't been doing his laundry like she'd ordered him to (which, for him, just meant gathering his clothes and putting them in the hamper; instead, he'd kind of just been kicking dirty clothes underneath the bunk bed out of laziness), but stopped at her words. "How many days? And where are you going? What if I need you?"

"What could you possibly need me for, Kai?"

"Well… What if I get sick?"

"The Master and his wife are perfectly capable of handling any illness that might befall you."

"Even if I get the 'pox'."

"What kind of pox?"

"All the pox!"

"Then they will have to put you down, for the betterment of the human species."

"Like a dog?"

"Like a rabid one."

"Guess I better not get all the pox then..."

"Kai, I still have yet to see you pack any under-"

He sighed loudly then, just to cut off her remarked. It worked. And in her silence, he said, "So you wouldn't come back? If I got all the pox?"

"No."

"What if...what if… What if I just got real sad? And ran away? Would you come back? To help look for me."

"Do not runaway."

"But if I did-"

"Kai." Her voice alone commanded his gaze. "Do not runaway."

"Well...what if I went missing? Then would you come home?"

"Why are you so worried about this? I go away on jobs all the time," she complained. "What difference does it make? That it is not out on a job?"

"It makes all the difference." He even began to nod his head emphatically. "Because you've never done it before. Leave for no reason. I just… You're not going away because of me? Are you? Because I'm annoying/'

"Partially."

His spirits were crushed. But still, Erza came over to pat him on the head.

"It has been much for me to deal with, Kai. These two years have gone so fast and yet… There is nothing that makes me happier than taking care of you."

"Wow, really? More than magic? More than being super bossy and mean to everyone at the guild?"

That time, he got a bit of a look that shut him right up before, sighing, she shook her head.

"Sometimes, you need breaks in life," she explained simply. "Real breaks. A vacation. From training and guild duties and...and children. And you need a break from me as well. But know that, in a week's time, I shall come back-"

"A week now? Erza-"

"You'll hardly know that I'm gone."

"But, if I did and I missed you a whole bunch and needed you-"

"I," she assured him, "would come running."

Finally, he smiled.

"But if it were not something serious and you were merely acting as a young toddler, I would make you run until your nose bled and your heart begged for mercy."

His smile fell. But it was just as well. After patting him once, twice, on the head, she rose to her full height.

"I have yet to see any underwear, Kai. In fact… I do not even recall washing you any in the past… Kai-"

"Maybe we could do a quick load of laundry?" he questioned with a tilt of the head. "Do you think? Erza?"

He agreed, after the tongue lashing he got then, that yes, maybe they did need a break from one another.

Still, Erza got him to the guildhall on time where, of course, Marin was waiting for him.

"Kai! Are you ready to spend the night?"

Excitedly, he held his bag up to show as such. "All packed. I even brought clean underwear."

This was funny to Marin, but to the other children seated at the table with her, this got varying amounts of disgust through his way.

"Boys are gross," Navi remarked. She should know, considering she had two brothers, an Exceed, and father all at home. Locke, Gajeel's only son, didn't like this assertion though.

"No," he replied. "Just Kai."

"And most other boys," Haven decided. As Master Laxus' oldest daughter, she frequently found she had the ability to assert such things. Even without him though, her pigheadedness would no doubt lead to the same sort of opinion.

Locke wanted to argue, but also didn't feel like dealing with the fight this would no doubt spawn.

Plus, she was a bit right…

"We have to wait," Marin was going on then though to Kai. "Until Mommy or Daddy finishes at the hall. Then we can go home. Daddy said that we're gonna make burgers for dinner! And Uncle Elf said tomorrow him and Aunt Ever will take us with them to the market and the next day… Well, I dunno what we'll do, but-"

"You're not going to sleep in my room." Haven was tired of hearing her sister gush, clearly. "You two can sleep in the living room, on the floor. Like dogs."

"Haven," Locke complained with a frown.

"You must have found out about my pox," Kai muttered.

"Your what?" Navi asked. She'd been laying with her head down, but pushed up at that. She wasn't completely certain what pox were, but she was nearly certain if she brought them home to her little brothers, her mother would not be too pleased.

"Kai."

There would be time later, it seemed, to determine just which pox the boy did and did not have as, suddenly, Erza was back, standing over the table. There were few people in the hall that commanded attention in such a way. Even Gajeel didn't shut Haven up as well as the swordswoman did.

"I shall be taking off now," she was saying to the boy who only nodded his head slowly. "When I return, I expect to hear nothing, but glowing reports from the Dreyars. Remember, you are staying with your Master. I want you to be the upmost respectful and courteous. Do not cause problems. I mean it, Kai. I will see you when I return."

Now, in front of Marin, Kai had to be a man. Especially if they were gonna spend the next day with Elfman. She might leak it back to him, even just on accident, that he wasn't acting manly.

He couldn't have that.

Still, he rushed to toss his arms around the woman and nuzzle against her cold armor. With a slow sigh, one of her hands came down to pat him on the back of the head.

"I will be back," she insisted. "I am not leaving you. It is a week and a half, at most."

"Just when are you coming back?" he complained, but she only went off to speak with Mirajane one last time before heading out.

She felt...free, even as she was stepping off the property. Kai was fine and taken care, she had no jobs, no prospects, just somewhere to get to, as soon as possible, and then-

"Ravan."

He was there, back at the house, sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her, it seemed.

"Erza," he replied back with a stuck out tongue as the woman only stared at him. After a moment though, he only frowned. "What?"

"What?" she repeated right back. "You are the one looking at me in such a way. Why are you even here? I thought you were out training."

"You're joking."

"Joking? About what?" She'd only come home to get her things, but apparently, things were going to take a moment. She'd forgotten to consider the older of the two boys in her plans (he was becoming quite self-sufficient...sort of…), but at the same time, figured he should be fine regardless. She certainly was at such an age. "Regardless, I am headed out. On-"

"Right. With me."

"Excuse me?"

He took to glaring while the woman only got herself a glass of water.

"Erza," he complained. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

Clearly, the pair were on different realms at the moment.

"You said," he griped loudly, "that if I completed four jobs-"

"I would take you out with me, yes." She was quickly coming to understand the problem. "But Ravan, I said that a month ago before I planned-"

"Planned what? Where are you going?"

"I'm…" She huffed then. "I can take you when I return."

"You said if you were off, then the next time I returned-"

"Ravan, you are not understanding. I am not off."

"Then you have a job to go on that you can take me on?"

"I'm on vacation."

"So you're off."

"Ravan-"

"Fine!" And he jumped up. "Don't take me then. See if I care, Erza. I didn't want to go on a dumb job with you anyways."

"I will take you when I return."

"I don't want to go now."

"Ravan-"

"You said you would take me, but you are a liar and-"

"Do you even have a job in mind? Ravan?" Erza did not enjoy being accused of not keeping her word. "Because currently there are very few jobs available on the board. If you can find one close to the town that I wish to take my vacation in, then perhaps you can travel down with me and-"

And that was that. She instructed him to go and get a job while keeping from Kai, should he still be around, where he was going. She did not want to have to take both boys with her.

After all, she was hoping to quickly finish with Ravan and then get on with her vacation of sorts. Which would mean sending him on his merry way all alone. Ravan could handle that. Kai, even with his brother, not so much.

One purchase of an extra train ticket later, and Erza and Ravan were off. He'd been whiny before, in order to get what he wanted, but he was back to his shitty, distant attitude then, glaring out the window for the majority of the trip, not at all receptive to her attempts at making conversation.

It was just as well.

Erza had other things on her mind, anyhow.

"We will stop off," she did tell him at one point. "In the town I planned to stay in. I must...meet with someone. Make other arraignments. You know."

He snorted, quite heavily, before remarking, "Who even goes to a vacation somewhere so boring, Erza?"

"I slay monsters, climb mountains, visit coasts, and explore capital cities everyday on quests." She hummed a bit. "Some nowhere little town without any notoriety will be nice. I can hole up in a hotel and spend a week worrying over nothing. I have many books that I wish to crack open. Many things to ponder. I am rare to allow myself such luxuries, but this feels long overdue."

He made a face, which she caught the reflection of in the window he was angrily mugging. "You're so boring."

"That's my point, Ravan." She sighed some. "Right now I prefer boring."

When they arrived, the town was just a dinky and boring as he'd feared. If Ravan cared more, he might think about Erza's well-being. That a mage who, honestly, was one of the most accomplished and profitable, couldn't get enough jewels together to take a decent vacation. He might even consider just what kind of toll he and his brother were tailing on her wallet, that this was her choice of vacation.

But he didn't care. So he didn't think about any of that.

Or at least he didn't dwell on it long.

She made him sit down in the lobby of the small hotel and he was annoyed, just a bit, as after speaking to the clerk behind the desk, she headed off, down the hall towards the rooms. This sat find with Ravan for a good, oh, two minutes. Then something hit him.

Where the heck did Erza go? If she hadn't checked in previously, which she obviously hadn't, why would she need to go to the room? And why did they come anyways? If she had the room for a week, fine, maybe she needed to come and check in just to be sure they didn't cancel her reservation, but even still, the place was dead as dirt. Why would she even need a reservation? Honestly?

Now curious (and suspecting some sort of trickery on the part of the woman), he set out to follow where she'd headed off to, picking up on the room number that the man behind the desk mentioned to her.

He wasn't as foolish as Erza though. And honestly, she didn't think him foolish at all. Just like before, when she nearly left town without telling him, it never crossed her mind that he might be curious about what she was doing. It should have, honestly, as he was a naturally nosy kid I(though he tried hard to hide this fact) and the issues he was raising at the moment were very valid. They didn't make sense.

She'd just been hoping to get back quickly to him and never thought he might even have the chance to follow after her. Nor want to. Had he known what she was doing, of course, he'd have been there with her immediately. Because there was only one thing that could drag Erza Scarlet, on her week away, to the rundown little town, and Ravan had just as much interest in him as she.

Because who else would be waiting for the swordswoman other than her somewhat significant, yet frequently absent, other. He seemed very busy, when she entered the room, going over a map of sorts at the rickety desk in the corner, but still turned his head up to glance at her. From beneath the cloth he had pulled high around his face, she could tell he was smiling.

"Erza," he greeted simply and it'd been the first word they spoken between one another in quite a number of months.

It felt right, anyhow.

Jellal rose then, to his feet, and they embraced for a few moments before, softly, he asked as they parted, "Where are your things?"

"Something has come up."

He couldn't help, but to chuckle. "Trouble in Fairy Tail? Of course. Always."

"Not to my knowledge," was the explanation he used because, yes, always did seem an accurate description. "No. Rather...I have… It's the children. One of them. Ravan. He's… Here."

"He's here?"

"He's in the lobby."

"Erza, why?" And suddenly, he didn't sound so wistful. "I thought that we were going to-"

"We are," she agreed slowly. "But first I must-"

"Erza!" And there was a loud knocking on the door then. "What are you doing? If you're trying to ditch out on me, forget it! I told you that I didn't want you to come with me anyways! I-"

"Ravan." She was jerking the door open then. "I thought that I told you to wait-"

"What are you doin'? Erza?" And he glared right back. "If you're trying to ditch me-"

"Ah, Ravan." Now at least having a chance to accept the fact of his presence, Jellal came to peek around the woman's shoulder. "It has been a bit, has it not? I see you haven't changed any though."

He was surprised momentarily, the boy was, and his shock almost turned into something close to joy. Maybe. But just as quickly, he recalled that he didn't even like the guy that much, really, and hardly knew him, and he sucked, anyways, always being gone and all, and other than when he was handing out gifts, Ravan had little use for him.

Erza huffed though, again, before reaching out to grab at the boy rather roughly and drag him into the room. She was hoping to avoid this.

"Is the younger one not here?" Jellal questioned as Ravan only jerked away from the swordswoman with a glare. "Cannot truly be a reunion without him."

"Kai," Erza griped as she glared right back at the boy, "is back in Magnolia, because he listens when I give him directions."

Ravan snorted as he said simply, "All you had to do was say you were going to visit your boyfriend, Erza. I didn't wanna come here to be with you anyways. What? Were you embarrassed?"

"No." And she was taking that tone with him. He knew that he only had a short amount of leash left. "But it is none of anyone's business what I do with my time or who I see during it. And that includes you and your brother. Now, I told you to go await me in the lobby. Now."

And he might have done it, honestly, because she was giving off super strong, aggressive vibes and while he enjoyed pushing the woman (it was what he did best) even he knew that she had a limit. One that he'd crossed a few times, but never enjoyed the outcome of it.

But Jellal spoke then, before the boy could do anything.

"Do not be so harsh on him, Erza," he suggested with a bit of a shrug though he grinned quite plainly at the sight. "He merely was checking up on you, yes? What's the harm in that? You would punish your apprentice for caring about your well-being?"

"I punish insubordination."

"I don't care about Erza." Jellal, for the little interactions that Ravan had had with him, was also someone to tread lightly around. "And I'm not her apprentice."

"You are," the man assured him. "And you certainly do. What was it you brought him for, Erza? Did I hear something about a job?"

She was losing some of her steam (the man had that affect on her) and as she addressed him, the arms folded over her chest even loosened some.

"I forgot," she began slowly, "that I promised to accompany him on a job, following a down period. I was on my way here, to see you, when he informed me of this. You know that there is nothing a person has in this world, other than their word."

"That is true," the man agreed with a nod. "Tell me, Ravan, do you often request the accompaniment of those you do not care for?"

If he were wittier, Ravan might have mentioned his typical job partners consisted of the slayer kids, who he detested with a passion.

Instead, he only growled then, at Erza, retorting, "I'm not a baby, you know! If you don't wanna be around me, then-"

"I told you to wait in the lobby," she cut him off, "because I planned to come and quickly explain things so that we could be on our way. Now though-"

"You should just stay." He didn't growl that one. Or even say it with much anger in his voice. Rather, his clenched fists were relaxing and he was just a kid then, before two adults, rather than someone trying to feel equal, if not superior, to them. He only stared up at Erza with little expression as he said, "I can do my job alone. I didn't even really want to go on one with you anyways."

It was awkward, honestly, the situation was for Erza. Though Jellal and the two boys were, originally intertwined in her life, that wasn't so currently. He was hardly a thought in either Ravan or Kai's head and, though she kept up some correspondence with him, she found little reason to bring up either boy often. It felt like living two separate lives. It was living two separate lives. Though Jellal always seemed so amused by her caring for the boys, It was moments like this that reminded them both just what their presence was robbing them of. It was hard enough, forming a relationship over rare letters and even rarer visits, but adding two children into the mix, well…

"Go back to the lobby," was what she finally found herself saying to the boy. "I will speak with you in a moment. And do not disobey anymore orders, Ravan, or else I will march you back to Magnolia and have you explain to the Master why you see it fit to ignore the commands of an S-Class member."

He was annoyed now, feeling as if his attempt at a good deed was being punished, and only stuck his tongue out at them before running off, leaving the pair alone once more.

"Children," Jellal remarked cheerfully. "A joy to raise, yes?"

"I am not raising children. Ia m merely-"

"Erza." And he only went to reclaim his place at the desk. "I think it's nice, anyways. You have someone to look after and they do too. I just assumed you would have gotten things arranged with them, before arriving."

"I told you-"

"I recall what you told me."

"Besides." She rolled her eyes then, just from the thought. "They are too coddled. Both of them. By the time we were Kai's age, we were more than self-sufficient."

"Is that really a time you enjoy recalling?"

And she caught herself then, but he still seemed at ease with the whole situation.

"Besides," he went on, "who wishes orphaned children to always be that way? Orphaned? I do not. Ravan and Kai would be fine, of course, without you, now that they are in Fairy Tail, but are they not better? Imagine having, what was it you said? An S-Class wizard? Having that as your guardian. What an honor."

"Still," she insisted though, for the most part, she agreed with a lot of his words, "he is petulant."

"And you pulled rank on him. A child. The great Titania Erza, lowering herself to an argument with a child. Does this happen often?"

"You take him, then, for a week," she retorted. "See how quickly you tire."

"I enjoy this arrangement far better," he assured the woman. "The once a year life. And I did spend a week with him. Once. I nearly killed him. Though, this is not uncommon for me-"

"I must accompany him." She was tired of talking in circles it seemed, though, honestly, it was what he'd planned for their time together to be full of. "You know."

"What is a woman without her word?"

"A man, I suppose."

He rose again, adding, "I wish to accompany you. To the lobby. To see the boy off."

"He's not marching to his death. It is a job, honestly, he could handle on his own. That would be better for him to do on his own."

"Sometimes tells me," the man informed her softly, "that it is not watching you complete a job that he wishes, but for it to be the other way around."

The boy was waiting around, at least, as she'd instructed him. And while Erza, with her cover blown now, instead took to taking her massive amount of luggage up to the room she'd return to as quickly as possible with Jellal, the man only went to address the boy.

Ravan refused to look at him, of course, but it was no matter. As they merely stood beside one another, Jellal questioned, "How goes your magic then? Well, I hope?"

He snorted, but still, a chance to brag was a chance to brag.

"Of course it is," he retorted smugly. "My re-equip space is massive."

Well, it was bigger than the last the pair had seen one another, anyhow.

Still, Jellal nodded as he said, "I hear you take jobs now. Frequently."

"I take my share."

"And your brother?"

That got another snort and a bit of a glance.

"He can hardly even keep his stupid garden alive," Ravan said with a frown. "Erza doesn't even let him take jobs. He's too weak."

"There is a place for us all, after all," Jellal assured him. "Not all is on quests and missions. Who would we protect and serve, if we all were accomplished and brave?"

"That's a funny way of calling someone a coward."

"Cowards have their right to life just as the courageous. Neither has dominion over the other. Any more than dark or light. One cannot exist without the other and, in many of us, they form simultaneously."

Finally, the boy only looked up at the man and remarked, "You're just like Erza. You say a lot just to hear yourself talk."

Jellal was sure this was meant to be a jab (it was rather obvious), but still only smiled, now behind his fave cover once more.

"That is not a bad thing to be, after all," he replied. "Tell me again how this is insulting?"

Ravan didn't though. Only kicked at the ground. With a bit of a sigh, Jellal bumped his elbow gently against the boy's head, just to get him to stare up at him once more.

"She's not easy to look after," the older mage said simply as, once more, the woman approached then, "but I expect you to do so to the best of your ability. She hardly needs it, but when she does-"

"What do you know?" And he shoved him then, Ravan did, glaring finally. "I'm not the one that constantly leaves."

And this was true, very true, so Jellal only shrugged as, having been unmoved by the shoves, he took his steps away from the boy, passing the quizzical Erza, who came to frown down at her protege.

"What was that about?" she complained, but only slightly, as it was quickly put out of her head. "Regardless, we must leave. Immediately. I wish to be back for-"

"I told you," he griped right back, "that you don't have to come. I can go alone. You can stay. I don't care."

"But," she said as she came to shove his head in the direction of the hotel lobby doors, "I do. There will be plenty of time for pleasantries when I return, if that's what you're worried about."

"Gross." And he wasn't. "I don't wanna hear about-"

"That is not what I-"

"You should just stay if you're going to be weird, Erza."

"I was not implying-"

"Don't you wanna stay? Anyways?" They were out of the building then, the pair were, headed once more in the direction of the train station. Ravan wasn't too good at this, what was coming next, and he was walking faster, hoping, almost, to lose her and therefore not have to continue his line of questioning. "Since you get to be with Jellal?"

"There will be other times. Many other times."

But there would be other jobs too, he knew, but wasn't sure how to ask her about all this. Or what he hoped to gain from it. He rarely cared for others on a deep level. Even with his brother, it was rather shallow. He wanted him to be fed, safe, and alive, but short of that, he didn't pay much mind to it. He himself was one of the boy's biggest tormentors at times. He was always a bit selfish as a kid, but the tragedies and uprooting in his life had left him with difficulties coping with others emotions. He hardly handled his.

Still, it wasn't as if he didn't recognize that Erza was, at the very least, lonely. Or alone, actually, was a better way of putting that. She didn't see anyone, as far as he knew, outside of Jellal and that was only on occasion. It didn't take much speculation to lead him to recognize how intrusive it was, then, for him to be where he was at the moment. Taking her away from the very little time she got with what, at best, he knew to be her boyfriend.

He said nothing though, because he didn't know what should be said, anyways, if anything. Erza had a way about always seeming content, anyways, in every situation she was presented. He'd seen her smile through difficult wounds after returning from jobs and she didn't lose her mind too much when Kai was being impossible. Her natural disposition was set to adaption and overcoming anything and everything.

Even if it wasn't, it weren't as if she would ever share such worries and concerns with him, after all. A child.

Still, he didn't like the idea of it. Her being that way. Alone. If she was that. He wondered, too, if she really even was. It was hard for him to imagine, his mother and father wishing to live apart from one another, or any of the other married couples he knew, truly, but Jellal and Erza weren't dating. No, they were something different. Something he didn't understand.

Erza wished he never would.

He wasn't wholly wrong, anyways, with his thoughts. It was a lonely life, the one she led. When she was younger, in her twenties, not nearly as much. She took jobs with a high frequency and was constantly surrounded by her friends. Now her friends had families to return home to and she was alone, in her home. Or she had been. Before the boys. Now she was hardly into the city upon returning from a job and there was Kai, begging for her attention, or there was Ravan, needing training or a lecture (he was always in need of that one), and she felt, at times, like she hardly had any of it to herself. Time. She felt guilty when her jobs took to long and, though she still took the toughest around, she found herself shying away from any that would require her to be away for extended periods.

They needed her.

Erza was always needed in some way or another, from the guild to her friends to even the surrounding areas of Magnolia, really, as she were one of the most well-known mages around. Still, it was different, the kind of need they had for her. It was far more similar to that of a pet than it was the veneration of one's countrymen. She'd considered it, anyways, in the past. Getting a dog of some sort. To keep her company in the times where it felt as if she were all alone.

Now she had something. Two somethings. And though, in that moment at least, it felt as if they were dragging her away from the one thing she'd always seen herself as truly needing, she found it hard to gripe too heavily. The relationship she had with Jellal was tenured and complex, but above all else, it would always be there. She felt, especially with the older of the two, that the one she had with the boys was not so. It was based on a recent bond, a shaky trust, and she never wanted to break that. Jellal would always be there, in some form or another. He always had.

But Ravan and Kai were new introductions into her routine and neglect towards them might lead to their removal. The older seemed constantly looking for it, anyways, an out. An excuse. She refused to give either of them one. So long as they were at least a little receptive to her teachings and protection, she hoped to hold them to it for as long as possible.

"Besides," she assured the boy as she still fell into step with him, no matter how much he tried to out pace her, "this will not take long, will it? Such a simple job?"

And he didn't smile, because he didn't do that ever, but he didn't look so tense then as, slowly, he bowed his head.

When she arrived back a day latter, Jellal was glad to find it was without either of her little charges. It was as they laid around, eventually, mostly killing time until it was more acceptable to get dinner (after which they'd only lock themselves away in the room once more) that he questioned her a bit though.

"I like seeing you," he told her softly, "with your apprentice. The other as well. Tell me, it's a content life, is it not?"

"Fulfilling, at least."

"That is good then. To find that. When magic ability and social accomplishments no longer do it for you." His head lulled to the side, just to stare at her in the light of the early evening. "I only wish for you to be happy, Erza."

"A silly thing to wish for, then." She let out a slow breath, just from the thought. "They are trying, tiring, and both very tedious."

"Challenges are what bring you pleasure though," he was quick to add. "Joy."

"Perhaps," she agreed. "And they certainly are that."

"I only wish I could have seen the younger one as well." And he sighed that time, looking off. "It is silly, but I find myself fond of him. What I know of him. Surely, he has matured since I last saw him."

"Surely," she told him wryly, "you do not know him well at all."

"Oh?"

But she was tired of the boys. She'd been tired of them. And after having sent Ravan on his merry way, content in his prowess and ability to complete the job before him, she didn't wish to think of either. They were both fine without her and, for the next few days, she knew it would be hard for thoughts of them to not at least creep into her mind, but she hoped to steer most conversations away from them.

She deserved time, after all, without them.

"Where have you been?" was the question Kai asked when, during this time apart from Erza, he was eventually joined once more by his brother, who stopped by the guildhall for dinner that evening. The younger boy, who was still bunking with the Dreyar's, only frowned at the sight of his brother. The last he'd seen him, he'd been rushing out of the guildhall with a job, the same day Erza took off for her vacation.

It was torture, being away from them both at once. He almost didn't survive.

"A job," Ravan replied simply as Marin, who was seated with him, only giggled. "What difference does it make to you?"

"Well, you'll be relieved to know that Wendy thoroughly examined me after I claimed to have the pox."

"The what?"

"The pox."

"All," Marin assured the oldest of the two boys, "the pox."

Ravan only glared though, at the two of them, before huffing and saying, "Yeah, well, you stay away from me, huh? When I go home? I want to be alone. No you, no Erza. I'm on vacation."

"No fair."

"It's completely fair."

"But what if Marin and I wanna come over and play? With you?"

"No." Ravan even shook his head at them. "I don't get this chance very often."

"Chance for what?" Kai asked. "Ravan?"

But Master was headed home then, which meant Marin was, which meant he was, which meant Haven, who was hanging around somewhere too apparently, was as well (she couldn't risk Kai being in her room without her being there to bark at him to stay away from her things).

Alone was how he liked it, anyways, Ravan did, as all the was left at the bar were the drunks and weary.

"Did you wanna spend the night too?" Mirajane giggled as he paid his bill for his meal that day. "There's plenty of room."

But he only declined.

If Erza wasn't around to be all bossy, then he was going to sleep till noon everyday until she got back, eat whatever he wanted, not train even a lick, and spend all day raiding her movie lacrima collection. As well as the fridge. And attempt to break into her weapons shed. Then give up and go back to moping around the house, doing nothing at all.

She wouldn't be pleased, with either of them, truly, the swordswoman wouldn't, when she returned home to find Kai, after discovering a new favorite disease to tout, had worked the guild up into a frenzy over fear of it spreading (not likely, considering he'd made it up), and Ravan had completely destroyed the house in absence of her leadership, but she would only take a deep breath and remind herself that without them, she wouldn't have had anything to take a vacation from.

They were trying, tiring, and tedious, fine, but they were still two of the only people in the entire world that truly, without a doubt, needed her.

And it was nice to feel that.

Just a tad.

Full Series on Archive

#Jerza #Jellal Fernandez #Erza #Erza Scarlet #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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i-am-too-sick · 5 years

Text

A Fateful Encounter (2/2)

Here’s the second and final part of my collab with @nerdlycharming. This is apparently a series now because we cannot be stopped. Look for more collabs from us in the future! #sorrynotsorry

Word count: ~3000

Michael had nearly given up hope after four days of silence from Quinn. He worked every day during that time and had seen neither hide nor hair of his friend. The first day, he figured Quinn was just sleeping off the rest of the illness, but by the second day, he was convinced he'd done something wrong. Now, at 8 o'clock on the fourth day, he was sure he would never see Quinn again.

He was on his couch, trying and failing to read his murder mystery - he just couldn't focus. He kept thinking about how lovely he was and all the things he did that were wrong and messed things up with Quinn. He wasn't even sure if it was better to know what messed him up was not his being gay but everything else about him instead, or if that as worse.

Then, a knock on the door made him nearly jump out of his skin. “Just a minute!” He called out, voice cracking a bit. He cleared his throat and stuck his bookmark in place before going to answer his door. Though his previous trail of thought was still fresh, he had no idea whatsoever about who could be at the door.

When Michael opened the door, his face nearly collided with a large cardboard box. It teetered some, before a dusty-colored brunette poked his head around the side.

Michael hastily grabbed the box from him, unable to keep a massive grin from his face. He chuckled, “Surprise indeed, I thought I'd never hear from you again!” He turned to set the box down inside. “Come, come in! You still look like you're gonna keel over!” His tone was joking, but he was still obviously concerned.

Quinn was still smiling, even when he shook his head and stepped back out of the doorway. “We can talk later. I need to get the rest of my stuff from the van before it starts pouring.” If it wasn't one thing it was another; the sky was overcast and gray and threatening to open up at any minute. The last thing Quinn wanted was for himself and his belongings to get drenched.

“Oh!” Michael exclaimed and immediately grabbed his coat--a grey plaid jacket that was lined in a fuzzy material--and putting it on over his black t-shirt with skull design. “I'll help you!” He offered, rushing to the door to assist in any way he could. He wasn't very strong, but an extra pair of hands couldn't hurt.

“Thanks,” Quinn said, leading Michael out to the moving van. He'd rented it for today and tomorrow, just to make sure he had time to get his stuff moved. He also wanted to make sure Michael even still wanted him for a roommate, but judging by how eager he was to help, Quinn could only assume that everything was okay.

The van had a mattress and a desk and a small collection of boxes, but nothing that would take too long if they worked together. “Do you mind helping me with the heavy stuff? My old roommate helped me get it in here, but I don't think I can unload it by myself.”

“Absolutely!” Michael was enthusiastic at first but only a second later he seemed to frown a bit. “I'm not very strong though, I dunno how helpful I'll be able to be.” He hoped he could be useful but his arms had more in common with overcooked spaghetti than muscle tissue.

“We can see how it goes,” Quinn said, shrugging. He wasn't particularly strong either. He'd lifted his brother a few times, but things had been dire and he was sure his strength had come from adrenaline alone. “I think they're more awkward than actually heavy. We just need to find a good grip. Let's get the mattress first.”

With a small nod Michael agreed and set out to grab hold of the mattress. “If you don't have a bed frame, I'm pretty sure my old roommate left his?” He wasn't terribly sure but his room had had one in it already, too, but it wasn't the size of his bed. It was a twin and his was a full.

“How shall we do this? Shall I go backwards or would you like to?” He way rightly sure he cared either way, but he was worried that going backwards might make Quinn dizzy - after all he still appeared to be a bit ill or at least still rundown from it.

“I'll go backwards,” Quinn offered. “Just make sure I don't run into anything.” He was all smiles now—completely different than how he'd been a few days ago. There was still a slight ache to his muscles and he definitely wasn't in top form, but he thought it helped a lot just to be able to go outside and move around, even if the weather was anything but favorable. “Ready?”

Another small nod from Michael signaled the go ahead and they began lifting. Quinn was still stronger than Michael, even still sick as he clearly was. They struggled into the building but a large jock stopped them by the elevator.

“You guys need some help?” He asked, switching his basketball to his other hip.

Quinn seemed to become bashful around the stranger. He'd met Michael mostly by accident and hadn't really gotten around to meeting anyone else. “I'm okay, thanks,” he said, looking at Michael. “Are you holding up over there?” He didn't want to answer for Michael if his friend was truly struggling.

Struggling or not, Michael shook his head but did not speak as of yet. He didn't want to look weak at all but especially not in front of Quinn. He hated it when people thought him weak or fragile.

The jock guy shrugged and left, helping at least to make sure they could get into the elevator before the doors closed.

“You sure you're good?” Michael asked, panting a bit.

Quinn nodded. He was a little more breathless than he'd usually be, but he wasn't worried about it.

The elevator opened and they shuffled out with the mattress, Quinn doing his best to look over his shoulder to make sure he didn't run into anything or anyone.

They made it to the apartment without incident. “Can you get the door? Or do we need to set it down and regroup?” Michael was not great at moving furniture so he was pretty unsure about things. He wasn't even totally sure the bed would make the turn into the apartment.

“I think I got it, just—” Quinn leaned his back against the wall, and balanced the mattress on his knee while he struggled with the doorknob. The mattress was a lot heavier than he expected, and he was tempted to just lean it against the nearest wall and call it done. But he also didn't want to put it off another day when they could easily just take care of it now.

“Got it,” he said once the door was slightly ajar and he regained his hold on the bed. “D’you think we can set it down and maybe just slide it across the floor?”

Michael was fatigued by now too but he simply had no excuse as Quinn had. He nodded before realising Quinn couldn't see. “Yeah...that works…” He was trying to remember now how many boxes Quinn had but he just couldn't. “My floor is clean.”

Quinn nodded. He hadn't been worried about dirt so much as not being able to hold the mattress for much longer. His limbs felt funny, like they were slowly but surely taking on the consistency of jelly. At least the desk wouldn't be as awkward to carry, he told himself as they set the mattress down.

Sliding it across the floor proved to be a much easier and effective way to move the mattress and in no time they had it in his new room and nestled securely on the bed frame Michael had mentioned. “Okay, the desk is next, and then maybe half a dozen boxes. Those aren't as heavy, I promise,” Quinn added sheepishly, thinking that Michael probably hadn't expected to help him move all his stuff in when he'd offered to be his roommate. “You doing okay?”

Despite the fatigue in his arms and legs Michael was still smiling back at him. “I'm alright, it's you I'm worried about, you look a bit peaky still.” He commented with a face full of concern.

The rest of the move went smoothly until it started pouring right before they went out for the last of Quinn's belongings. He tried to convince Michael that he didn't need to come out in the rain, but his friend was having none of it, so together they sprinted back and forth from the van, splashing through puddles and being pelted by cold rain.

They were both drenched by the time they'd finished, and Quinn remained just inside the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself as he shivered, teeth chattering. His movements had grown sluggish after they'd moved the desk into his room, his breathing ragged and fatigue weighing heavily on him.

He wasn't sure whether Michael had noticed any changes in him, but he knew it would be difficult to ignore the water dripping off his clothes as he trembled against the wall. He'd quickly noticed that Michael kept the place incredibly tidy and Quinn was worried about leaving water on the floor if he crossed the hallway into his bedroom.

“I-I’ll be r-right back. I n-need to move the van,” Quinn said. He'd left it parked out by the curb, but now that they were finished, he figured he should park it properly.

Michael shook his head, “you should go take a warm shower, I'll move the van.” He didn't mention the fact that he wasn't supposed to operate machinery. It would be fine with such a short distance, right? Just as long as he didn't encounter any strobe lights?

“Then, I'll make some tea, yeah?” He offered a smile. “There's leftover pasta in the fridge too, the noodles are home made!” He seemed to be quite proud of that.

“I can't ask you to do that,” Quinn said, shaking his head and sniffling, “especially because you already helped me move all my stuff in, and now you're soaked because of me.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket, muffling a cough into his elbow. “Plus, I'm the only one on the lease and the only one allowed to drive it.” He gave Michael a sheepish smile before ducking back out into the rain, hopefully for the last time today.

Quinn might not have looked the type, especially with how he seemed to run himself to exhaustion, but he was a stickler for following the rules. He took them very seriously.

Michael figured that was probably for the best, he was never totally sure when he'd have a seizure and he always looked away when he was in a car, terrified that any form of flashing lights would cause one even though he knew it to be unlikely.

Still, he felt honourbound to follow, though, jogging to catch up. “Hey! I'll come too!” He called out. “You shouldn't have be the only one in the rain, plus, who would help if you keel over again?” He teased.

Quinn gave a lighthearted chuckle as they climbed into the van. Whether because he was cold and wet or from the move itself, he wasn't sure, but he didn't really feel so great. He was dizzy and tired and achy and cold, and for the first time that day, he began to wonder if he overdid it again.

He backed the van into the first spot he could find, and despite being eager to get back inside where it was warm, he walked through the parking lot like he was moving through a tub of molasses. Ducking his head and wearing his hood did little to protect him from the sheets of rain that continued to fall.

Michael took off his jacket and put it around Quinn. “Come on, let's get this over with and get you warmed back up.” He wasn't sure where the boundaries were yet, but he could definitely be a mother hen type regardless of the relationship.

“I think you may have overdone it a bit. You should probably take a warm shower and head right to bed.” As much as he wanted to spend more time getting to know his new friend, he knew that would be better for him.

Quinn was still shaking as they walked through the front door. He felt guilty about taking Michael's jacket and having him help him move and a whole slew of other things that Michael had done for him in the short time they'd known each other. “I just want to c-change clothes and s-sit down for a bit.”

“You really should warm up first…” Michael seemed pretty worried about him but he nodded. “It's up to you though, I can't make you shower or anything.” He chuckled awkwardly knowing he'd just done something odd. “I'll go put the kettle on.”

And with that he shuffled away quickly to the kitchen, presumably to go start the tea. He felt flustered knowing how odd he'd just been, he meant well, he really did.

If Quinn thought anything about Michael's behavior he didn't say it, instead shuffling to his new bedroom for a change of clothes. He searched through his dufflebag for something warm, finally changing into pajama pants and a sweatshirt.

He felt sluggish and weak, like he had a fever, and he was willing to bet that he did. Crossing back into the living room, he noticed Michael still standing at the kitchen. “You haven't changed? You're just as soaked as I am.”

Michael jumped, Quinn having brought him back to reality. “What? Oh uh...yeah, I was just waiting for the tea.” He gestured to two steaming mugs beside him. “They're just about done steeping.”

He carefully picked them up and brought one over to Quinn and kept hold of his own, trying to commandeer its warmth for himself as he was shivering too.

“Go ahead and watch whatever you want,” he said with a head nod toward the living room television. “I think I may go have a shower actually.” He looked terribly frozen now in the light of the living room. He sipped at his tea before setting it down on a side table and heading off towards the bathroom.

Once Quinn was alone, he got comfortable on the couch and stared down into his tea. He enjoyed having the warmth leak into his fingertips rather than actually drinking it. It was nothing against Michael's tea-making ability, though.

Quinn had done a lot of thinking about Michael over the last few days. Sometimes he had a hard time getting his friend’s image out of his head even when he tried. There was something about him, and maybe it was because he'd been so incredibly kind and helpful when Quinn had really needed it, but now Quinn couldn't help but wonder—was he developing a crush?

He stared down absently into his drink until it started to cool, wondering how this would all play out.

Michael returned after a while, also in pajamas. He smiled at Quinn after sipping at his tea. He settled easily on the opposite end of the couch and became engrossed in the show, occasionally sipping at his drink.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, breaking the relative silence.

“Not great,” Quinn answered honestly, giving a halfhearted shrug. He gave a small smile, trying to convey and reassure that he wasn't nearly as bad off as last time. “Guess it was too early to be moving furniture and traipsing around in the rain, huh?”

Michael gave a small giggle. “Guess so.” He stood up and grabbed the throw blanket from before and tossed it at Quinn, not tucking him in like before. “I hope you feel better soon. Did you get any pasta by the way?”

Quinn shook his head. “I'm not really hungry. Haven't been since the other day. Thank you, though.” He yawned, burying himself in the blanket. It wasn't weird for him to snuggle with Michael's blanket, was it? After all, his friend had given it to him to use, and he really was still cold. “You like Pokemon?” he asked curiously, eyeing the pattern on the throw.

Michael nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I'm kinda nerdy honestly…” he admitted, blushing nearly as red as the blanket.

“What about you? What do you like?”

Quinn might have replied that he liked researching and learning, scary movies, pizza, and the color blue, but as Michael was looking over to hear his response, he noticed that Quinn had dozed off already, his head leaning back against the cushions and the blanket tucked snugly around his body. Michael smiled at this, mumbling a quick goodnight before heading to his own room and settling into a new book.

It wouldn't have been either boy's ideal first night with a new roommate, but there was nothing to be done about it now, and that just meant they had the rest of their college careers to get to know each other.

#illness #my ocs #quinn #my writing #nerdlycharming #other people's ocs #a fateful encounter

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