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hollandsmushroom · 3 years

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Lost In My Brain

Hello everyone, so this concept came from the very very depths of my brain as I went into a deep dissociative episode and I wrote this to pull myself out by imagining semi mob tom comforting me.

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCHLY APPRECIATED

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You aren’t replying to Tom’s texts so he is really worried, he finds you in a state of trauma and unable to really communicate.

Warnings: Please read this at your own comfort, I wrote this to help me cope and I thought someone else might want to read it. I have written about extremely personal topics in this and I am not talking about stuff that I don’t know anything about, I suffer from dissociative PTSD. So warnings really include mentions of an unidentified trauma, Dissociation, Dissociative PTSD, Loss of recognition of faces, mentions of Mob Tom, missing person?, Trauma that happened at night, intrusive thoughts, thoughts that you are actually dead.

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Word Count: 1577

Tom’s meetings had run late, he had messaged you throughout the discussions to keep you updated and so you wouldn’t worry but it was him who worried as his phone remained void of any response from you. He began to grow antsy as the conversations just dragged on. He gave his input whenever he had to but most of his time was spent trying his hardest to seem as if he was paying attention and then checking his phone to see if you had responded, and every time his phone screen was blank. His worry was beginning to overtake his body, he worked in a dangerous profession and people knew that the best way to get to him was through loved ones, you being the main one. The thought of something bad having happened to you made his heart break, the thought of someone hurting you added to that made his blood boil. It wasn’t like he was overreacting, you were always very attentive to responding to him when he was in meetings, you knew that under his hard mobster outside he worried about you a great deal and if you could do anything to ease that, you would, and that is why he was freaking out to this extent. As soon as the meeting came to a close he left immediately, ignoring the people who tried to catch his attention on his way out, focused only on getting home to you.

Tom walked into the house, calling out your name and receiving no response in turn his heart beginning to pound as the silence reverberated in his ears. With an urgency he began making his way through the rooms of your shared house. He started in your bedroom, eyes landing on the perfectly made bed, signalling to him that you never went to bed, he made his way through the guest rooms, your office, the living room, by the time he reached the kitchen he was on the verge of tears. Hands grabbing on to the counter as he faced the empty living room, retrieving his phone from his slacks pocket and quickly dialing up his mate Harrison.

“Mate?” Tom asked as he heard the phone be answered on the other end of the line.

“Yeah?” His friends tired voice answered, clearly having been woken up by Tom’s call

“I can’t find Y/n, I don’t know where she is” At this point Tom felt like he was on the verge of breaking down, the idea that something had happened to you and he wasn’t there to protect you made him see red.

“Wait? You can’t find her?” there was a rustle from the other line, Harrison having sat straight up in bed, shock over taking him.

“Yeah, mate and I am kind of starting to freak-” Tom spun around, leaning his back against the cool marble countertop when his eyes caught on the open sliding glass door leading to your backyard, a dark figure sitting on the cement ground rocking slightly.

“Mate, I'm gonna have to call you back” he ignored his friend's words of worry as he hung up, placing the glowing screen face down on the counter and making his way outside. As soon as he passed the threshold of the door sniffles reached his ears. The weather wasn’t freezing but it definitely wasn’t warm enough for you to be sitting there in nothing but one of Tom’s shirts, bare thighs on the cool ground.

“Love?” Tom called as he made his way to your quivering figure, shoulders throwing themselves back and forth as you attempted to rock yourself in comfort. He reached a hand out to your shoulder, but you flinched away from his touch causing his heart to shatter. With the jerk of your movement his eyes caught your face, tears staining your cheeks.

“Love it's me” Tom assured, once again reaching his hand out to you, and this time you let him, his hand soothing over your shoulder causing it to cease its shaking as you eased into his touch. He did this gradually, progressively enveloping you further into his hold, a protective embrace, your face tucked into his chest as his hand rubbed up and down your back, trying to warm your body as you began to shiver from the night air.

“Let's get you inside, darling” Tom’s soothing touch helping you off the ground. He grabbed your hand, gently moving you into the house, and led you to the bathroom. His hands grabbed your hips, placing you onto the bathroom counter, you sat there, eyes trained on the wall ahead as Tom dampened a washcloth, moving back to you to wipe the snot and tears off of your cheeks, he stood in your view for the first time, his hands reaching towards you as you examined his face, causing you quickly push him away, hurt flashing across his unknown feature as you distanced yourself from him, scooting back on the counter curling further into your own body.

“Y/n?” His voice sounded defeated, reaching out again only for you to have the same reaction. His voice, you knew his voice, and his face didn’t seem completely unknown, something about him was familiar. It was so close to the face you loved so much but your eyes were distorting his features.

“I...I don’t know who you are?” He could have sworn he broke when you said that.

“Baby, it’s me, it’s Tom” he cooed, trying to understand what was happening, fear bruning through his chest and all the way down to his gut, feeling as if his world was slipping from under his feet.

“No, I-I know it’s you but..but I look at your face I don’t recognize it, it’s off, it’s not quite right and I don’t know who you are, you look like I stared at you for too long and you lost all feature, Tommy, I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who I am” your tears began to flow again as you looked in the mirror, your face was just a little bit off till it wasn’t your face anymore. You closed your eyes and shook your head violently causing Tom to gasp, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to halt your movements.

“Stop, baby, please stop, it’s me, it’s Tommy, I’m right here” his voice soothed you, peeling your eyes back open, you saw his face, it was right, it was your Tommy.

“Tom?” His name but a question on your tongue as he cupped your cheek.

“Yes it’s me,” the pad of his thumb brushed away tear streaks. “What’s happening, sweets, talk to me please” he pleaded, eyes begging you to let him know what was happening.

“I’m dead Tommy” you explained but it only made it worse, yes widening comically as fear shot through his body.

“W-what do you mean you’re dead?” His mind was racing, had someone put a hit on you? Did you need to go into hiding? He felt like he was falling into every possible issue that you could be having but he was cut off by your voice again.

“I was thinking earlier and what if I died that night? What if I didn’t get out of the way? This is the after life” you mumbled, fully convinced that you had lost your mind.

“You are not dead” Tom demanded

“How do you know that” you whispered

“Because I’m here, dusting with you, I can touch you and trace every mark in your body, I have my own life, I would have that if you were dead, and if you were why would it just be a continuation of your day to day, why are you freaking out if this is heaven” he tried to explain and something must have worked because your body eased, eyes drawing from your hands to his face.

“This is real?” your voice sounded weak, so lost in your mind as your eyes seemed to glaze over.

“Yes, love this is real” he hummed, finally being able to wipe the tears from your face, his touch drawing you back from the farthest depths of your brain that you kept spiraling into “Now let’s get you to bed” Reaching past you he grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste, preparing it for you to brush your teeth. You took your toothbrush from his hand as he leaned in and kissed your forehead lovingly, a tear slipping from his eye as he took in your defeated state, brushing it away before you could see and brushing his teeth as well.

Moments later you fell into your bed, Tom’s arms wrapped securely around you as your back curved into his chest, you shook your head as you closed your eyes seeing everything you wished you could forget.

“Tommy, I feel so lost in my brain, its like its yelling and every new thought just adds to the noise, continuing to bounce around with everyone else” You whispered as you shuttered.

“I know it's not okay, my love, but I am here and I will be here, I will help you come back” he kissed your temple and held you as you fell asleep. He vowed to himself that he would be there for you, he would never let you go, give you a life that distanced yourself from that pain that haunted you. He would remind you everyday that you are alive.

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland au #mob!tom #soft!tom #tom holland angst #angsty tom holland #tom holland x y/n #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader

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starksvixen · 3 years

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Part 4 - Beskar and Broken Hearts

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Summary: You and Din had admitted everything, all cards on the table. But it was all for nothing. After you had escaped Navaro, the Mandalorian started treating you the same, like the kiss never happened. Tensions had risen and hit it’s peak by the time you found her...Ashoka Tano.

Warnings: Lots of angst ahead, semi-unhappy ending,

A/N - I’m doing a major time skip cause *tension*. Also, I didn’t really have any ideas except for lots of squabbling between the reader and Mando so here’s the result.

“Wanna explain why you’ve been ignoring me?” the modulated voice speaks up from beside you.

“Not particularly,”

You move a bit faster, moving your hair to the side, free from your hood you had burned back on Navaro. The patch with the Mythosaur skull rubs against your bicep, something that you thought signified you joining Din’s clan. It was obvious his feelings had changed.

The Mandalorian grew cold, acting as if nothing happened. Like the kiss and three words meant nothing. Maybe he was just trying to spare you from embarrassment. But even that pisses you off, the thought of being babied making a dull static fill you.

You stop walking ahead at the soft cooing of the Child, the only reason you had stayed with Mando up till then. Gently, you take him from Din, not sparing him a glance as you walk with the tiny bundle in one arm.

Entering the small town, you look at its desolate state in suspicion. Din had been sent here in search of a Jedi known as Ashoka Tano. The name’s familiarity resounded within you, memories of the name being passed around during your time on Mandalore.

“You stay out here with the Child,” Mando says gruffly. “I’ll see if I can find the Jedi’s whereabouts,”

“You’re seriously benching me?” you hiss.

“No, you’re protecting the kid,”

And without another word, he walks into the city, leaving you in the dust. With a huff, you hold the kid close to your chest and walk towards the forest line near the outer gates of the city. Once you place him down, you find a rock to sit on, watching as the kid curiously held up anything that looked like food.

“Sorry, buddy, no frogs here.” you sigh, leaning your forearms against your knees.

It didn’t take long for Mando to return, only to be met with silence once again on his behalf. You could feel your heart race beneath your skin, your shoulders practically kissing your eyes with the fire radiating off of them. How the hell was he still silent about this situation?

Before any words could be spoken that you could regret, you shove the kid in his hands, mumble a poor excuse to get ahead, and let your feet take wind into the forest. You’re smart, staying close to the duo so you don’t get lost or encounter a threat alone. But being near that man, it made you crawl in your skin at his actions. Like saying those three words were nothing. Like that kiss didn’t mean something. It haunted you.

A rustle in the bushes catches your attention. On instinct, you twist your arm behind you and pull out the staff that rested on your back.

“Din?” you yell into the air.

“I only see a few beasts to the North,”

“No, that can’t be i-”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t it. Because before you knew it, a sea of a cloak floats in front of you, white lightsabers at the ready. Barely, just barely, you block her attack with the staff, only to have the metal melt in your hands. As the Jedi pulls back for another hit, you kick her square in the gut before ducking to miss the next hit. The hiss of singed skin fills the air, it’s smell nearly making you gag as you brace yourself with the Earth.

Before you even had to think, the sound of light and beskar rang in your eyes. Looking above you, Din has his arms crossed to block the Jedi’s next hit, one that certainly would have killed you. As girly as it was, your heart fluttered at the protective move.

Swinging out of the way, you protect the Child with the small knife as the Mandalorian and the Jedi come to a truce.

“Bo-Katan sent me!” you hear Din yell, his blaster ready.

Slowly, she disengages, her hood falling gracefully towards her shoulders, looking at you and the Child.

“I hope it’s about him,”

Din paces back and forth at an alarming rate before you, the small light up ahead bouncing off the clean metal and refracting with each movement. Ashoka sits with Grogu, a secret communication taking place between the two of them, something you couldn’t help but admire.

As you lean against a rock, the searing pain at the top of your shoulder alarms you to your latest injury. Slowly, you peel back the singed jacket you had. It was a superficial burn, barely there. It wouldn’t even leave a scar. But the fear in Din’s voice would leave a scar upon your memory.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he mumbles quietly.

In the time you were looking at your wound, you failed to notice the beskar covered warrior crouching in front of you, med pack at the ready.

“Didn’t think you would care,”

“Cya-”

“You don’t get to fucking call me that. Not after ignoring me this entire time.”

“Let me explain...”

“You should have weeks ago...” you mumble.

With the snatch of your wrist, you place a bacta patch on your shoulder, shrugging your beat up leather jacket off and onto your lap. Ashoka coaxes you both towards them. Din offers his hand to help you up, but in turn you glare and stand on your own, tightly tying your jacket to your waist and following the Jedi.

She takes you to a more comfortable plateau, the trees offering safety, something you didn’t expect this deep in the wilderness. You sit beside the kid, gently scratching the space between his ears, earning a coo in return.

“Were you two speaking back there?” Din questions.

“In a way,” Ashoka responds. “Grogu and I can hear each others thoughts.”

“Grogu?” you and Din ask in unison. The poor thing didn’t know who to look at first, making you chuckle softly.

“It must be nice to hear your real name again, huh?” you whisper softly while peering down at him.

You listen quietly to Grogu’s dark...dark story. For the first time since you thought you were going to lose Din, you cry. Silently, of course, not giving way to hysterics. But the thought of your poor boy having to endure things that you yourself had faced, it broke your heart.

As the Child starts to fall asleep, he curls up into your jacket that lay on your waist, making you smile softly at the motion. With one hand, you gently pick him up to lay on your chest. In one swift motion, you stand and walk towards a tree with him close to you. Laying against the rough bark, you let your eyes begin to drift close. Not without seeing the glint of beskar staring right back at you.

It was early when Ashoka had risen you, the Child void of your chest, instead in Din’s arms. Your gaze quickly averts away from him, opting instead to follow Ashoka.

As you all walk deeper into the forest, you engage in quiet conversation with the Jedi. She obviously could sense the tension between you and Mando, subtly using probing questions to solve her mystery. But you were used to these types of people, you knew how to deflect.

Once you make it to your destination, and Grogu was placed somewhere comfortable, you watched intently as Ashoka tested his abilities. While your boy could take the rock floated towards him with ease, sending it back, or taking it, was the problem.

“He doesn’t understand.” Din interjects.

“Oh jeez...” you mumble, already sensing the long day ahead of.

“He does,” Ashoka reassures, stepping closer to the youngling. “He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years. Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

You both take a step forward. The tense glance that Din sends your way forces you to take a step back, arms crossed in defense as you turn away. As the intense feeling begins to build, Grogu’s upset builds also. He softly whimpers at the sight of you two, refusing to make any eye contact.

“For this to work, you both need to be in harmony. Not fighting whatver lovers quarrel has settled upon you.” Ashoka says frankly.

“We’re fine...” you say, your voice void of any emotion.

Ashoka turns to the Child, a soft nod the only signal of their communication before she picks him up and walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

“We need to figure this out, for the kid,” Din says.

“Yeah, and only for the kid,” you scoff.

“What is with you lately?! What have I done that is so wrong!”

“Where do I kriffing start Din?!”

“How have I mistreated you?”

“It’s not mistreatment! It’s the lack of said treatment...”

“Dank Farrik!” he exclaims, his hands flying in the air. “Will you just spit it out already!”

“Fine! You’ve treated me like every other bounty you’ve dragged into the ship ever since our escape from Nevarro.”

The world falls silent, but your heart refuses to let up its song. You can feel it in your ears, your throat. The vulnerability that settles upon your shoulders is crushing you as you wait for a response.

“What I said back there...I never should’ve said it. I never should’ve kissed you like that,”

Your jaw clenches, your arms grip your own body tighter then before.

“Are you saying...”

“Its not true, what I said. We’re just partners.”

With a scoff and a quiet sniffle, you can’t bring yourself to glare at Din at the moment. All you can feel is a pain, wedging itself in your heart, deeper then any blade could.

“Just partners in crime, right?” you spit at him, turning away from the man that you knew you still loved.

A harsh sigh pushes through his encoder, his hands falling at his hips in frustration.

“I’ll pretend to be normal around the kid. But once he’s back with a Jedi, you’re dropping me off at the nearest planet.”

You wipe a stray tear away before walking off in silence.

Tag List: (leave a comment on the Masterlist to be added)

eatleef auds24 tillytheslytherin kasianthus jsuiyun20 leilei-draws and-i-swear-we-are-infinte haleypearce mollywertenbe14 tortles toribentleyva allisondavis236 rogueheretic555 xionroxas r-rose08 caswinchester2000 givemetundies artemisfowl11 imaginecrushes irishfaulk97 mylifequotesshows dionysuskid21 convoluted-creature grey-water-colors stitchattacks urbankaite2 weebnumber3622 shestillwrites1 f4llingfairy magicrowiswritingstuff eddyforthewin galaxypox captn-andor imtrebleandsharp nerdalert-andi suffocateitfromitsface lovelylostminds a-djarin dawnwriterimagines kishie8

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #mandalorianxreader #mandalorianimagine #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mando imagine #din #djarin #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djaren fanfiction #the mandolorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandolorian x reader #partners in crime

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tintinwrites · 4 years

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dreams and other things | Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

A/N: This is inspired by an episode of King of the Hill, a show I did not even watch of my own volition yet vaguely enjoyed sometimes. No tags since the subject of this fic is quite touchy.

Rating: T

Warning: Trying for a baby and not being very successful with it. Discussions of possible infertility. Many sexual references. Naughty words. Depression. Arguing.

Word count: 1,907, apparently!!

Summary: Trying for a baby is taking longer than you thought it would, so Frankie tries to cheer you up.

GIF credit: ^ Please let me know if you don’t want me using your GIF!

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When you and Frankie first talked about trying to have a baby, it was quite possibly the best thing ever.

Yes, your sex life was pretty damn healthy if both of you did say so yourselves, but the moment you were working towards something with no condoms, no birth control?

You barely kept your hands off each other, whether you were somewhere private or you needed to sneak off to somewhere that was only semi-private.

Frankie didn’t know shit about ovulation until you peed on those little sticks and told him that meant you were at your most fertile; which meant three days of as much sex as possible, which meant he now knew a lot about ovulation and considered it to be a pretty damn great invention.

The first month of trying resulted in an obscenely expensive pregnancy test blinking a timer at you before it said ‘not pregnant’.

You were obviously disappointed, but you kissed him on the cheek and told him that it was pretty rare for a couple to get pregnant so quickly and you would keep trying.

He didn’t mind that.

But then one month became three, and three became six, and six became eight.

If someone is wanting a baby, they can only deal with throwing so many ‘not pregnant’ or one-lined sticks into the trash before it starts to chip at something. Frankie would hear you sob in the bathroom when your period came and sit outside waiting until you were pulled together enough, but you would just start sobbing again in his arms anyway.

With how disappointed he was with each month that passed without you being pregnant, he could only imagine your disappointment.

Fuck, he’d watched you weep on the bathroom floor about what a failure you were, how you couldn’t bear him a child, how much you just wanted to see two stupid fucking lines, and he still wasn’t sure he understood the extent of your disappointment.

Those three days he’d loved were starting to become something he hated, sex now an effort you both made yourselves do three days a month when it used to be something you needed to be pulled apart from doing; would this time result in a baby? Was he shooting blanks? Was there something up with your uterus, or your ovaries, or something else?

All your worries made the two of you bicker, then cry, then apologize, over and over again, until you finally broke down and told him you just didn’t know what was wrong with you.

That, at this point, you knew each pregnancy test would say you weren’t pregnant and that you hated yourself so much you were taking it out on him.

He was pissed because this was supposed to be easy, damn it. Creating a family was something biological, something anyone should be able to do if they wanted to, and he couldn’t do that for you? He wanted to yell at whoever the fuck would listen each time you cried because something that should’ve been simple just wasn’t.

Any yelling he wanted to do was kept in for the most part, aside from one time when snippy bickering made him raise his voice with everything he was shoving down.

I don’t know how to fucking fix this, okay?!

The moment the words left his mouth, his face had softened and he moved to you immediately, dropping to his knees at the couch in front of you and rubbing his palms up and down your thighs.

I didn’t mean to yell, okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.

Maybe he was apologizing for more than just yelling as he laid his head in your lap, letting a few silent tears fall with the way you were running your fingers through his hair, telling him that you were sorry too, that you never meant anything you said and you just wanted a damn baby.

You decided to ease off on trying since it was so stressful for you both, and Frankie watched your heart break.

He watched it break even more when, despite not really trying, you were weeping in the bathroom once again at the blood in your underwear telling you that you still weren’t pregnant.

He held you to his chest, and kissed your head, and whispered all the truths to you of how great you were, and he suggested you take the week off work to just take a little more stress off.

You spent each day laying on the couch with dried tear tracks on your face as you watched almost every sitcom that was streaming, but he didn’t care. He’d leave something for you for breakfast in the morning, call in for something to be delivered for lunch, then make you dinner when he was home.

Most nights, he’d bring you to bed and help you change into fresh clothes, smiling at you when you’d kiss him and say a little thank you.

And then you’d fall asleep and any smile he tried to keep on for you dropped.

You were so...sad. There was no other word for it. Empty, maybe. Longing for something that should’ve been yours.

Shit, maybe he wasn’t going to be the best dad in the world, but you needed to be a mother.

Wherever he would’ve failed, he knew that baby would be okay with you loving it, and nurturing it, and kissing it, and holding it close to you.

Seeing the way you yearned for a baby made him think of all the other things you’d talked about with him, all the little dreams and other things you hoped to do with him.

He thought maybe one of them would help, maybe he could find something to help fill that void even if it didn’t fit quite right.

Something that would occupy your heart until you were finally pregnant or you looked into adopting a kid.

He came home that Friday you’d taken off work with a box in his arms, setting it outside the door before he pushed it open and stepped inside. He took off his boots like always and walked over to the couch where you were watching an old show, bending down to kiss you gently.

“Can you close your eyes for me, baby?” He tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb as you gazed up at him.

“If I open them to find you naked, I’m not gonna find it very amusing.” The time off work brought back a bit of your humor, but you did close your eyes as you moved to sit up.

“Not doing that, but I really hope you like this.” He made sure your eyes were closed before he moved towards the still open door. “It’s, uh...it’s gonna be a little work, but I know we talked about doing this before.” He balanced the box in his arms carefully, kicking the door closed as he moved inside.

“I’m still convinced this is a sex thing.” You furrowed your brow, wringing your hands anxiously.

“It’s not a sex thing, hon.” He set the box at your feet and reached in to take out the furry, wriggling creature.

“It really sounds like it is.”

“Hold out your hands.”

You did with little hesitation because you trusted Frankie more than anyone, brow furrowing even more when something soft was placed into your hands.

“Open your eyes.”

You did, pausing when you looked down to find what looked to be a little mixed hound puppy staring up at you and wagging its tail, trying desperately to lick at any part of you it could.

The longer you stared at the puppy in silence, the more nervous Frankie became that this was a bad idea and that you were going to be offended by him trying to cheer you up with a dog.

Then you started sobbing, putting the puppy in your lap and reaching up to Frankie, who quickly moved to sit next to you.

He wasn’t sure if you were happy or not, but he wrapped his arms tight around you either way and let you cry against his neck.

“Is this good crying?” he asked tentatively, relaxing considerably when he felt you nod.

“Good, it’s good. Is it a boy or a girl?” For some reason, that question broke his heart a little, but he pulled away to watch the puppy paw at your shirt.

“A girl. Someone dumped her and her brothers and sisters at the shelter. But she’s ours now, if you want her.”

“Oh, baby. She’s so beautiful, Frankie.”

You held the puppy again and she wriggled around, teetering forward to lick at your chin which made you laugh loudly.

That was Frankie’s most favorite sound in the world and he’d been hearing it so infrequently that he was pretty sure he’d just fallen in love with you all over again.

He gently rubbed up and down your back, watching the puppy gnaw on your finger with those little sharp teeth. “You like her?”

“I love her. Thank you for...everything.” You kissed him gently, for loving you, for putting up with you, for wanting a baby with you, for doing his best to provide something else you dreamed of when your dream of a child wasn’t working out.

He pressed his head against yours and looked into your eyes in a tender moment that was quickly interrupted by the puppy leaping up and licking at you both. You both laughed and you set her down on the couch, letting her sniff around the new environment.

“You’ll need to pick out a name. Alright, alright, damn.” The puppy was trying to nose in behind him impatiently and he scooted forward a little, chuckling.

“Catfish,” you said so surely that Frankie looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I want her to be named after her daddy.”

He shook his head, looking to his side to see that dopey little tan and black face staring up at him with her tail thumping on the couch cushion. “I guess there’s enough room for two Catfish around here, huh?”

She tilted her little head as he spoke, ears flopping around slightly, then dove right into his lap and started nipping at his hands.

You laughed, leaning over and nuzzling his shoulder. “We need to buy her some chew toys.”

“Uh, I did.”

“You sound guilty.”

“—I took off work early to grab her and we stopped by the pet store for food and shit, so I bought a few toys.”

“How many is a few toys?”

“Anything she wanted.”

“You softie.”

You watched him with adoration in your eyes as he playfully scolded the puppy for chewing on his jacket. “Put the puppy in the box.”

“Huh?”

“Put her in the box for a minute.”

Frankie looked confused until your hand slid between his legs, eyes widening when you squeezed him lightly. “Alright, baby girl, you hold tight and play with the ball I put in your box, okay?”

It was a month and a half later as Frankie stared at eight lines, two on each of the four pregnancy tests you’d taken, as well as the three digital screens that said ‘pregnant’ on the other ones, that you kissed Catfish’s head again and again and told her it was thanks to her that she was going to be a big sister.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier imagine

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howtoeatworms · 3 years

Text

Fairy Tail: The Celestial Journey

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

It’s been one month since the war with tartaros. Magnolia has been busy rebuilding and with help from the generous amount of jewel the king has given to all those affected, almost a quarter of the town has been rebuilt.

The guild on the other hand was rebuilt in under five days thanks to the insane workload Erza forced on everyone. The craziest thing wasn’t even that. The master thought of disbanding the guild, the idea almost gave me a heart attack, But I’m glad Master changed his mind after he realized how sad everyone would be if that happened.

Everyone seems to be going back to their daily routines but some wounds are too deep to heal. It’s just not the same even now. But I’m sure things will get better soon.

I love you mama. I will talk again soon.

Lucy then put the finishing touches on the letter and put it away for safekeeping inside one of her top cabinets opposite her bed.

After having a nice warm shower Lucy was having a hard time deciding what to wear.

“I know, He can help me. Open! Gate of the little dog! Plue!” Lucy chanted as she pointed her key in the air.

In a puff of smoke what looked like to be a short, carrot nosed dog puffed into existence.

“Hmm. I haven’t worn this one in a long time, what do you think Plue?” She asked her little celestial spirit. The small little creature walked over to over a dozen outfits sitting on her bed and pointed to a blue and white outfit.

Lucy looked at the outfit Plue had chosen and gave him a big hug saying; “I knew you could help me. Thank you Plue.” Shortly after in another puff of smoke the spirit was gone.

Lucy was walking down the road to the newly rebuilt guild hall wearing a blue shirt, a short, white skirt, long brown leggings and a black sleeve with her hair tied into a long ponytail.

Before she knew it Lucy was already at the guild hall. She pushed the doors open to find the usual scenes. People drinking merrily, some checking the request board and fiends chatting.

Lucy went to sit down at an empty table right near the entrance. She smiled at all the commotion around her. Thinking of better times.

“Oh Lucy! It’s so nice to see you at the guild again. You haven’t been here for weeks.” Mirajane said as she walked over to lucy’s table.

“Yeah, it’s good to be back.” Lucy murmured looking down at the table.

“Is there anything I can order for you, Lucy?” Mirajane asked.

Lucy murmured “No thanks, mira.”

“Well, if you need anything just call.” Mirajane said as she walked off to serve another person.

Lucy looked around the guild for Natsu and Happy hoping that they could go on a mission together.

“It’s just been so long.” She said to herself. Suddenly, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye.

“Erza! We’ve been waiting 30 minutes for our beer and it’s still not here! You’re a worse waitress than Kinana!” Wakaba shouted in a semi drunken state.

“Uh, bud I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Macao replied to his long-time friend.

Just hearing the remarks by Wakaba, Erza rushed over to the table where he was seated, and like a tiger killing its prey Erza instantly jumped Wakaba.

“If it’s alcohol you want then it’s alcohol you’ll get!” Erza said as she started to force down a whole barrel of alcohol down his throat.

Lucy watched on in confusion and worry, glad to be sitting a few tables back.

“Erza being a waitress is a pretty scary thing.” Lucy nervously thought to herself.

Getting tired of sitting around Lucy got up from her seat and walked over to the request board.

“Even if I can’t go on missions with Natsu and Happy, I still need to pay rent.”

Lucy scanned the request board looking for a job suitable for both herself and her spirits. Unfortunately, she could only find dangerous jobs that would require a three-person team.

Suddenly a familiar flying, blue cat flew into the guild hall and grabbed a handful of flyers.

Lucy looked up above in surprise. “Happy it’s you! I haven’t seen you and Natsu in ages. How has he been?”

Happy looked down to see Lucy staring up at him. “I can’t talk now, Lucy! Got work to do!”

Lucy murmured, looking at the floor. “Of course, you do.”

Hours later, Lucy was working on the finishing touches on another two pages of her novel. Feeling tired, she stretched her arms and decided it was time to go to bed.

Lucy signed, lying in bed. “I spent a whole day at the guild and I didn’t even get a single job, and Rent is coming up soon too. Maybe tomorrow I might find something.”

As Lucy slept in her bed, a dream started to form in her mind.

“Puny human, no mortal can stand up to the might of the four Celestial Gods.”

“I don’t care! I need to do this so I can save my family.”

“Draco! Deal with this pest for me.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A hulking monster appeared as if out of nowhere, standing down Natsu.

“So, you’re the Celestial god everyone’s been talking about, huh?” Natsu said in a sarcastic tone.

“Natsu! Get away, you’ll die!” Lucy screamed at the top of her lungs.

The creature simply attacked, paying no attention to Lucy’s words.

“Celestial God Dragon… Roar!”

In a split second a wave of fire that felt as hot as the sun engulfed Natsu, and a split second later there was nothing left but ash.

Suddenly Lucy shot awake, she looked around, realizing she was safe in her own bed.

“It was just a dream, then?”

Lucy realized her body was shaking in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Natsu…”

Lucy was sitting by the bar, drinking a coffee to try to keep herself awake. She didn’t get much sleep after she awoke from her nightmare.

“Oi Lucy! Watcha doing?” Natsu said as he draped his arm around lucy’s neck and chest, a little too close for comfort.

Lucy turned around and saw Natsu. “Natsu, it’s been so long. What have you been doing?”

Natsu looked Lucy in her eyes and said; “Oh nothing! Just missions and stuff. I need to get stronger and stronger!”

Lucy’s face lit up, and an idea popped into her head. “Since you’re here, how about we go on a mission together?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“Happy! Find a flyer for Lucy and us.” Natsu yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Aye sir!” Happy replied.

A large shard of ice suddenly shot through the air and hit Natsu in the head.

“What the hell was that?” Natsu yelled.

“Hey, flame brain! Leave a few jobs for the rest of us will ya!” Gray yelled.

“Huh?” Natsu grunted.

“You’re taking all the damn jobs in the guild, soon enough there won’t be any left.” Gray replied.

Natsu jumped up from his seat and yelled; “Ya got a problem with that, popsicle man!”

Gray was starting to get visibly annoyed at Natsu’s ignorance. “You know I do, weren’t you listening, dumbass.”

Natsu then suddenly punched Gray and the force of the impact destroyed a table.

“Oh, it’s on now, Natsu!” Gray yelled.

Soon enough the entire guild was their battleground, getting other wizards caught up in their brawl.

Lucy looked at them both and murmured; “They never learn, do they?”

“I feel so tired.” Lucy said as she started to yawn. “I think I’ll just rest here for a bit, Mira.”

“Don’t sleep too long.” Mira replied.

Lucy started to drift off to sleep, the guild’s noise acting as a lullaby to her.

Lucy suddenly found herself in a very familiar place. It was her father’s old mansion. She started to stroll through the lovely garden out front when suddenly she was pulled away and dragged into a terrible memory.

It was raining.

Everyone was dressed in black.

Suddenly, Lucy knew what the memory was.

It was her mother’s funeral. When Lucy looked around, she realized she was her child like self again. Small and defenseless. The wails of pain and agony were a chorus of tears Lucy wished she never had to remember again.

Then, suddenly, the dream changed. Lucy was standing in shallow water, now an adult again.

“Fix the keys… the land of the spirits.”

Lucy heard a familiar voice.

“Who are you? Why do you sound like my…”?

A figure appeared in the distance. Lucy ran to it. It was Layla.

“Mum?” Lucy murmured.

The figure turned its head to reveal a half rotting corpse, a small smile etched on its face.

“AAAHHH!!”

Lucy suddenly shot awake and her scream stopped the guild, as if everyone was frozen.

Natsu and Gray stopped fighting, Erza stopped eating her cake, all to look at Lucy.

Natsu ran over to Lucy as fast as he could, with Happy flying behind him, he ran over to the stool Lucy was sitting on.

“Mama?” Lucy said as she looked at Natsu, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oi Lucy! Are you alright?” Natsu asked, shocked at her scream.

Lucy looked at Natsu and Happy.

She murmured; “I’m fine, I just… had a dream.

“You had us all worried sick. Are you sure you’ll alright?” Natsu questioned.

“I’m fine, really I am.” Lucy said.

Happy was floating above Lucy’s head. “Was it about tasty fish?”

Lucy slightly laughed. “No happy, it’s not about tasty fish.”

“Oh! I betcha it was about Fighting.” Natsu yelled.

“No, fish!” happy replied.

“Fighting!”

“Fish!”

Lucy walked over to master, who was sitting on one of the tables nearby.

“I’m sorry master. I’m sorry everyone. I didn’t mean to worry you all.” Lucy said sadly.

Makarov looked at Lucy with a worried look.

“There’s no need to worry, my child. We all have bad days, but the important thing is to always remember that tomorrow will be better. So, keep your head held high, for that is the Fairy Tail way.” Makarov said.

Lucy looked at the ground, not able to look master in the face. Whether that was out of shame or cowardice she didn’t know.

Moments after Makarov’s talk the guild started to liven up again, becoming its old rowdy self.

“I think I need to go home.” Lucy said.

Makarov watched Lucy walk out of the guild with concern plastered on his face. Lucy looked like she was in a haze.

Lucy barely made it home to her apartment. Walking home in a daze.

As soon Lucy entered her home, she started to undress.

“I need a hot shower… I’ll fell bet…”

She suddenly collapsed on the floor.

Lucy awoke in the same void of shallow water as before. She saw the same thing parading around as her mother.

“Who are you? Answer me! Lucy shouted nervously at the figure.

The figure moved and as it turned its head, Lucy anticipated the horrific figure from earlier. But it never came. All she saw was the beautiful face of her mother.

“Lucy, I have not seen you in years. You have grown so much since I last saw you.” Layla said.

“I don’t understand any of this, what’s going on?” Lucy asked her mother.

Layla looked at Lucy with sadness on her face.

I have been trying to contact you, I have a mission for you, a way to save Aquarius.

Lucy was shocked, she couldn’t believe what she heard.

“Let me explain, my daughter.” Layla said.

“In the northern continent, in ancient times a meteor hit and devastated the landscape, however since that day, that place has become a wellspring of power for celestial spirit wizards. Go to the celestial steppe and you will find a blacksmith that can fix any key, even celestial keys.” Layla Stated.

Lucy tried to run closer to her mother but no matter how close she got Layla would always be out of reach. “How do you know all this? Can I even trust you?”

Layla looked at her daughter with sad eyes.

“Of course, you can trust me, I’m your mother. All will be explained soon, just know that I love you, lucky Lucy.” Layla smiled and then disappeared.

Lucy woke up from her dream, determined to make it a reality.

“I’ll be with you soon, Aquarius. Just hold on a little more.” Said Lucy.

The next day Happy and Natsu were standing by the request board in the guild. They had found the perfect job for Lucy.

“I’m sure Lucy would loooove this one!” Happy yelled, with the flyer in his paws.

“I wouldn’t miss seeing Lucy looking like that for the world.” Natsu said as he grinned mischievously.

Natsu ran out the guild’s doors as fast as he could with Happy flying not far too behind.

“Hey Lucy! Me and Happy found a job that you’d really like. It pays well.” Natsu Yelled outside Lucy’s apartment window. The flyer moving in the wind.

There was a silence for a moment.

“Is Lucy not home?” happy asked.

“Nah, she’s just ignoring me. Watch.” Natsu said as he jumped from the ground to the window sill outside Lucy’s window.

Natsu pulled the wooden frame up and hoped inside, with happy flying in after him.

“She’s not here.” Said Happy, looking around.

“Well, she’s gotta be. Let’s have a look around.” Natsu told Happy.

“She’s not in here.” Happy said as he lifted up the lid for a cookie jar.

Natsu grinned. “I know where you are. I’m coming in!” Natsu ripped the shower curtain off its rod expecting to see a naked Lucy.

“Huh, she’s not even here?”

Happy flew right into Natsu’s arms with tears in his eyes. “I looked around everywhere and Lucy isn’t here. Is she okay?”

“I dunno, bud.” Natsu replied. “But something is wrong.”

“Master!”

Natsu burst through the guild hall as loud as a bull and ran up to Makarov, who was sitting on the bar top.

“What is it my boy.” Makarov asked.

Everyone looked at Natsu in confusion. Breathing heavily from running to the guild, Natsu and Happy were trying to regain their breath. “It’s…Lucy…she’s… gone!”

“Hmm, what do you mean by that Natsu.” Makarov said.

“Lucy was here and then she was gone and I can’t find her anywhere.” Natsu said quickly, panicking.

“Calm down first Natsu.” Erza replied, who was standing to the right of Makarov.

After waiting a minute for Natsu to catch his breath, he finally spoke;

“I went to Lucy’s place to tell her me and Happy had a job for her to do, But I couldn’t find her anywhere. Then we looked around Magnola hoping to find her scent, but nothing. It’s like she just disappeared.”

“Well, this is troubling.” The master said.

“This is not like Lucy at all. She can be clumsy but she wouldn’t just leave like that.” Erza said.

“Could this be an enemy targeting Lucy?” Juvia chimed in.

“It’s a possibility. After what we went through fighting Tartaros I wouldn’t be shocked if someone wanted revenge.” Gray pondered.

For a moment Makarov closed his eyes and meditated on the news.

“We’ll send out a search party to look for Lucy. Natsu, Gray, Erza, Juvia and Wendy, you all will form a search party and look for Lucy. Also, we will use your telepathy, Warren to try and locate her as well.” Master Makarov announced.

Natsu was grinding his teeth and had his fists clenched, an aura of anger surrounding him.

“Don’t worry Lucy, we’ll get you back for sure. You can count on it.”

It was one whole week after Lucy disappeared and everyone was low on spirits. The guild was as busy as ever, but it had a tinge of sadness in the air.

One whole week of searching all over Fiore and nothing showed up, not even a single hint.

Suddenly a strange, fat woman walked in the guild hall wearing Lucy’s old outfits with a wagon filled with boxes of clothes and other items.

“Isn’t that the landlady Lucy rented from?” Gray asked, pointing to the guild’s doors.

“The Landlady, why would she be here? Erza questioned.

“Is this the place where Lucy Heartfilia works?” The woman yelled.

“Yes, why?” Gray Asked.

“That brat went up and left, not even paying the rent she owes me, she left all her crap at my apartment too, So I’m dumping it here.” The woman ranted.

Natsu walked up to the landlady, looking at her with disgust. “Lucy always paid her rent on time. She always panicked about getting kicked out. This isn’t like her.”

“Well, your friend doesn’t give a crap anymore, that’s for sure.” The landlady said as she pushed all of Lucy’s belongings off the wagon and onto the floor.

Natsu stood there, clenching his fists in anger.

As the landlady started to walk out the door, she threw a letter on the ground.

“Oh, and she left this too.”

“A letter?” Natsu said as he picked it up and opened it.

Natsu couldn’t believe what he read. His hands started to shake.

“Natsu, please read aloud the letter, for all of us.” Erza said.

Dear Natsu.

“It saddens me to say this but, I’m leaving on a journey, one that is more important to me than you could ever imagine. I don’t know how long I will be gone; it could be a month or it could be a year or two.

I wish I could have stayed in the guild longer, but don’t worry, I will always be in your hearts and I will always be a member of Fairy Tail.

If you’re reading this, Natsu, then it means that I have already crossed the borders of Fiore. I will be sending this letter to my apartment, so if you ever break in be sure to read it.

Sincerely,

Lucy.

A horse drawn carriage pulled up to a stop on near the edge of a mountain. The driver rubbing his cold hands together to try to heat them.

“I’m sorry miss, but this is as far as I can take you. The blizzard is just too strong.”

A slender, young woman jumped out of the carriage and said; “It’s okay, thank you for taking me this far.” She threw a bag filled with jewel to the driver.

“Nice doing business with ya!” The driver said as he directed his horse the way they came.

Lucy fixed her scarf closer to her neck for warmth. She looked off over into the distance, everything was a flurry of white.

“I’ve finally made it to the northern continent. It looks like my journey starts now.”

#fairy tail: the celestial journey #the celestial journey #fanfic #fairy tail fanfic #nalu #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #chapter 1 #chapter 1: The Journey Begins #juvia lockser #gray fullbuster

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trashforhockeyguys · 4 years

Text

Don’t Hold Me -7- Carter Hart

A/N: YEEEEDOGGIE we’re back again! Don’t mind the slight technical difficulties. It’s been a LONG DAY. BUT we’re here and it’s back. A lot of things happen in this chapter. It’s a little wild but it’s setting things up for the chapters to come! As always, all preivous parts are linked in my masterlist!

“C’mon!” Your roommate laughed, tugging your arm, “It’s a small party! It’ll be okay!”

“The last time I went to a party, it didn’t end well.”

She sighed and looped her arm through yours. You knew she just didn’t want you to sit in your room all night. Travis and the boys just got back this afternoon, but you were trying to give them space. They had a rough road trip, and you knew they’d all be worn out.

However, that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to go racing over to see Trav. You’d grown used to having him nearby whenever you needed him. It was nice, you liked knowing you had someone to help you out.

You missed being near your brother, so Travis naturally filled that void. Plus, Nolan was always around too, and he blanenced out Travis, more than he probably knew. Both of them together made you feel more like yourself that you had in years.

“Fine, but I’m not drinking, and if it gets too crazy I’m coming back,” You warned her.

“How about we both be sober tonight?”

You laughed, knowing full well she wouldn’t stay sober all night. But you liked that she was at least trying for your sake. You knew you really shouldn’t have agreed to go with her, but you wanted to have a little bit of fun. You’d been feeling good lately, you’d been getting good grades in all of your classes. You just wanted one night. One night to feel like a semi normal college student.

“You aren’t wearing that.”

“I’m not wearing your stripper skirt again, either,” You laughed.

Two hours later, you were sitting on the couch of a frat house, minding your own business as everyone around you danced and drank. You were fine with it though. Because at least you weren’t alone. Even if all you wanted to do was call Travis and ask if you could go over for a movie, you stayed put.

But another hour after that, your stomach started to growl. You didn’t trust any of the food here, so you set out to find your roommate and tell her you were going to leave to find something to eat.

She was dancing and laughing with a boy she’d been with a lot in the last few weeks, “Come dance!” She yelled when she saw you.

“I’m actually going to go find food.”

“Ughhhhhh fine! Call me when you get home!”

You waved as you made your way out the door. Much to your entire family’s dismay, you liked walking around Philly. You liked the quiet, even if the streets were anything but quiet. It allowed you to think, and feel like you could breathe for a little while.

You used to walk everywhere back home, and you missed it. So you tried your hardest to keep being able to do that. It also didn’t hurt that campus wasn’t far from a lot of your favorite places.

You walked to your favorite little cafe, needing one of their sandwiches. The place was quiet because of how late it was. You couldn’t help but wonder if Carter had found this place yet. He’d like it, he’d like how quiet it was and how hidden it seemed to be.

You pulled out your phone, almost tempted to text him. But surely he’d be sleeping after all he’d just done. There had been a few tough losses, Carter was in net for both of them. You were sure the last thing he wanted to do was go out on the town, even if it was to just meet you for some dinner.

You wanted to smack yourself. You weren’t meant to be friends with Carter. You weren’t meant to feel things for him. He was Carter...you weren’t supposed to go down this path.

So instead, you settled into your usual booth in the corner and waited on your food. You happily sipped on hot chocolate. All you really wanted to do now was eat and go curl up in your warm bed. You’d prefer to be in Travis’s because it was more comfortable, but that would mean that he’d go crash on the couch and you wouldn’t ask that of him again.

You didn’t even notice someone else walk into the empty cafe until they spoke up at the counter. You knew that gravelly voice, laced with something you could never quite pinpoint. The mop of messy hair, the way he stood.

It felt like a hole had been punched in your chest. Fear crept in before you even had a chance to think about anything else. The walls were closing in on you. He was here. You had to get out. You had to get somewhere safe.

You waited until he had his back turned to you and the exit. You dropped cash on the table and all but ran. Your heart thudded as you got out, hoping he wouldn’t come after you. He was here. He wasn’t meant to be here, but there was nothing to stop him now.

You ran hard and fast. You didn’t even know where you were going, you just had to get away from there. You were cold and shaking, fighting back tears. You were running away from campus, the last thing you wanted to do was be alone in your dorm room.

Before you knew what you were doing you were pounding on the door of an apartment. The second the door flung open your knees buckled. The tears came, there was no stopping it. The person on the other side of the door caught you.

His body was warm and strong against yours. Everything in you shook as you clutched onto him. You shouldn’t be here, you knew that. But he was the first person you thought of, somehow you knew he’d keep you safe.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” You could hear the panic as he slowly got you inside the apartment and got the door closed, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“He’s here,” you knew he wouldn’t understand. But that was all you could think to say.

That was all you could say.

“It’s okay,” He whispered, “I’ve got you. I’m just going to call Teeks.”

“No!” You yelled, “Don’t...just don’t go.”

You clutched onto his shirt harder. You couldn’t be alone, even if he just stepped away for a phone call. You didn’t want to be left. He was here...and you needed someone to stay next to you. Your whole body shook more. The realization started to set in, he’d really found you.

After all this time, the second he had a chance, he came and found you. The city that you loved didn’t feel safe anymore, not with him in it. You didn’t feel like you could walk around, or go to your favorite places. What if he was there too?

Eventually you fell asleep, still in Carter’s arms, clutching onto him for dear life.

Carter didn’t exactly know what to do. He hadn’t expected you to show up on his doorstep, crying so hard that you could barely breathe. In fact, it was the last thing he’d expected from you. He almost panicked, because he didn’t know what to do. But the way that you held onto him, somehow, he knew that you trusted him enough to be here.

He thought about the nightmares you’d had the last time you were in his place, and if this had anything to do with them. He didn’t know who spooked you so much, but he knew that TK needed to know.

He shifted enough that he could reach for his phone, without disturbing you. You’d all but passed out, eventually just too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. But you were still whimpering, a few stray tears still slid down your cheeks. Carter just wanted to make it all go away, he wanted to see your smile again.

“Hartsy, what’s up man? I saw you a few hours ago!” TK’s voice rang out from the other end of the line.

“Y/N’s here. It’s bad man I don’t know what’s going on,” Carter told him, carefully and quietly.

“She’s what?”

“Dude she showed up on my doorstep, absolutely freaked out. Kept saying ‘he’s here’ I don’t know what’s going on, but you should get over here.”

An impressive string of curses left Travi’s mouth, “Where is she now?”

Cater sighed, looking down at you with an unknown sense of fondness, “Literally passed out in my arms.”

“Okay...I’ll be over in a minute. And then I’m going to make a lot of phone calls and figure out exactly what’s going on.”

You stirred when Carter called for Travis to come on in. You tried not to move much, knowing you were more or less on top of Carter. You felt horrible, you weren’t meant to do this. You weren’t meant to be here, with Carter, like this.

“Is she okay?” was the first thing Travis could ask.

“She’s been like this since before I called you.”

“What happened?” another voice joined in, Nolan. Nolan was here too.

You wanted to just disappear. You didn’t want any of this to happen, you didn’t mean for it to. You just wanted to go somewhere that you felt safe. Carter was the closest. But you didn’t mean for this to happen like this.

“I don’t know. She was banging on my door, and she was crying. She just kept saying ‘he’s here’ she collapsed in my arms and then passed out a while ago,” Carter explained, “I’m worried about her.”

“Damnit,” Travis cursed, “Patty, stay here with them. I need to go call Ethan.”

You could hear him in the other room, trying to figure things out with your brother. You knew Travis had figured out who you meant the second Carter said it the first time. Nolan figured it out when he said it again, you were sure of that. The only person who didn’t know was Carter. You didn’t want him to know, but you dragged him into it all when you showed up at his door.

“Damnit!” This time Travis yelled, before making his way back into the living room, “I don’t know how the hell he’s here. He can’t be within-”

“Because the order isn’t valid anymore,” you finally sat up, “I got a call from the lawyer last week.”

“And you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

“I didn’t feel like mentioning that I didn’t have a protective restraining order taken out against him anymore,” tears fell again, but this time you tried to be firm.

“What’re you talking about, Y/N?”

You swallowed hard, “It’s nothing.”

“I swear to god, you don’t get to hide shit like that from those of us who helped pick up the pieces, and then show up at his doorstep and brush him off,” Travis warned.

He sounded so much like Ethan, you’d almost forgotten about the days the two of them would get mad at you for doing something stupid. They’d lecture you for what seemed like hours, and they always won.

“Either you tell him, or I will.”

“I-”

“I swear to God, I’ll get Ethan on the first plane out here, and we’ll go deal with this guy. But you need to fucking tell Carter. He deserves to know now.”

This fear was different. Holding Carter at a distance meant that he’d never need to know that something like this happened to you. He’d never have to find out. But somehow, he’d worked his way into your life, so much so that you showed up on his doorstep when you really needed someone.

And now you had to tell him what happened. Because Travis was right, Carter deserved to know. You showed up at his door like this, so he deserved to know why. Even if you weren’t sure how you could explain all of it.

“It’s okay, cut her a break, Teeks, she’d had a rough night.” Carter’s voice was soft.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to have this conversation. You didn’t want to have to relive it all again, much less the night that he’d shown up in Philly. But you also knew that you were somehow starting to consider Carter to be a friend, and if he was really going to be your friend, he needed to understand a few things. He needed to know what happened to you before you came.

“You guys can go, I’m okay,” You told Travis and Nolan, not wanting to have this conversation with them here.

“No, you’re going to come stay with me tonight. I don’t want you going back to your dorm alone,” Travis replied.

“Travis, no offense, but if he wants to find me, he’ll start by looking for you. He knows I go to UPenn, but he won’t bother if I’m with someone he doesn’t know. Besides, roomie knows about what happened, and if she sees him she’ll be the first one to call the cops,” You explained, “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“She can stay with me,” Carter spoke up, “I have a spare room, she can stay here for the night.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Fine.”

“I’ve got her TK, don’t worry,” Carter assured him.

Travis looked at me, I could see how worried he was. The last time something like this happened I locked myself in my room for days and refused to leave. He was waiting for a breakdown that wasn’t going to come. I’d gotten it all out of my system. I would be different this time.

“Call me if you need me,” He begged, “Please. And let Ethan know you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry you got dragged into this Nolan.”

He smiled softly and hugged you. For a second, you couldn’t help but tense up before relaxing in his arms. Nolan didn’t often hug you, he knew you didn’t like physical contact. Travis ignored all of that, since he’d known you for years, and remembered the little girl that always latched onto him for a big bear hug.

“Be careful, okay?”

When they finally left, Carter went to go get both of you a drink, claiming you needed to rehydrate after crying so much. For some reason, it made you laugh, which you hadn’t expected.

“So, not to be weird or anything, but you’re always in like sweatshirts and stuff...so why the bodycon?”

You’d forgotten about the dress your roommate put you in, “Shit. Um, I was at a party. Apparently you can’t wear a sweatshirt to a frat party.”

“You went to a frat party?”

“Uh, I kind of sat in the corner with a water bottle all night,” You admitted, “It’s not really my thing, but my roommate wanted me to go.”

He almost seemed to laugh, “I’m going to go grab a pair of sweats and a shirt for you,” He said, “And then you can go to bed.”

“Carter-”

“I meant it, I don’t need to know. I’m not going to force you to tell me. As long as you’re safe, I don’t care.”

Something seemed to swell in your chest. You couldn’t explain it, but the way he was looking at you and the way his voice sounded. You were feeling much more than you were meant to for him, but you also couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Carter, I-”

“It’s okay. I promise. You need to get some sleep, we can talk in the morning if you want.”

“But I-”

He shrugged and walked away to get clothes for you. When he came back he showed you to the guest bedroom, and waited on the bed for you to change in the bathroom. Oddly enough, he tucked you in and gave you a spare charger for your phone. He promised that if you were to need him, that you just had to come wake him up. He swore he didn’t mind.

Just as he was getting ready to leave your bedroom for the night, he turned to look back at you. Something was swirling in his eyes, something you couldn’t explain or understand, “Did you love him?”

It was the last question you’d expected him to ask. Yet, at the same time, it seemed like the only question to ask.

You had to blink a few times to rid yourself of the burn that was building in your eyes. How could you fully answer that question? You bit your lip and thought hard. All these years you tried not to think about your last relationship and everything you’d felt during those years.

“Yeah,” You finally forced out, “I did, because I thought he loved me too. But that was before I realized that wasn’t what love was. He never loved me. But I was stupid enough to love him.”

#Carter hart imaines #carter hart imagine #carter hart fanfic #carter hart fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #flyers imagines #flyers imagine #flyers fanfic #flyers fanfiction #nicolewritesthings

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sweetlittlevampire · 3 years

Text

Okay, I know that I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but I feel like giving one nonetheless. Or maybe I just wanna talk into the void that’s the internet, because it’s easier than talking to an actual person, but -

I don’t like May 15th.

Which is an odd thing to say, because the day per se isn’t a bad day. I have very dear friends who were born on that day. I am trying to think about them on this day, about making them happy. I am trying to make May 15 th a nice and happy day for myself. And most years, at least the past few ones, I succeeded in doing so pretty well.

But on some years, I do get remined that May 15th was also my father’s birthday, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Especially if my mother decides to casually forget that there are things you simply do not say to someone else, even in jest, thank you very much.

(Heavy mentions of mental/emotional/psychological as well as physical abuse and mentions of suicide under the Read More. Proceed at your own discretion.)

If you’ve been around for long enough, you probably know that my relationship with my father was not the best. He lied to my mother about wanting children because he thought he could get her to stay with her that way. He told her he never wanted kids when I was fourteen; he successfully hid that truth from the whole family the whole time.

He didn’t hide it from me. Every minor inconvenience, every deviation from what he deemed his “standard” - and I mean even minor things, like not wanting to wear the colour socks he’d picked out for me - was met with degrading and humiliating comments, yelling, and sometimes even a beating. Every hobby I picked out - drawing, reading, crochet - every choice I made academically - pursuing languages and linguistics and literature - was met with comments that were aimed at making me feel completely worthless as a human being. Because what I love doing most was worthless to him, so anyone doing those things was a worthless person by default.

(If you ever wondered why I am so unreasonably insecure about my art and my writing at times? here’s your answer.)

I got severely ill during my teen years, which was stress-induced, and my father didn’t believe me for one second that I really was sick, despite of having an actual diagnosis, meds to take, and being unable to eat food or drink without breaking down crying because I was in so much pain (oh yeah, trying to beat your kids so they stop crying when they’re in pain does not work. We tried that too.)

It might seem super trivial, but the yellings and the beatings were so bad that I was afraid to come home from school. My father developed heavy alcoholism in his late years - he literally drank himself to his grave - and there were days on which I was begging for him to be extra drunk. Because it meant he’d probably be asleep and would leave me alone.

(Drunk enough that he was still semi-conscious was...a whole different thing,)

He wasn’t nice to my mother either. She has Multiple Sclerosis, and he tried to make her believe that she was faking it too (didn’t work). He had zero respect for neither me nor her and got physically violent with her as well, as if the whole stress wasn’t taking enough of a toll on her health as is. I remember her legs stopping to work completely for a couple of weeks because of it all when I was around six or so.

(Side note: If you’re wondering why my mother never left him - both my parents were on disability pension, but because my father got his disability pension years before my mother did, she would’ve had to pay him a special alimony, which she could never have afforded back then with her meager job and a child. She knows this because she actually consulted a divorce lawyer about it.

That, and fear. It’s a paralysing thing.)

I didn’t like my father. I think it’s safe to say that he didn’t like me either. He still expected birthday gifts on May 15th.

Which were either met with indifference, or with disgust. “That’s all? So that’s what I’m worth to you, huh? Thought so” he said while actually tossing it into the trash. ...it was an expensive stationery set with a fountain pen, a ballpoint pen, and a mechanical pencil. Emerald green with gold accents. Monogrammed.I remember this so distinctively because I had saved my allowance for almost a whole year to get the thing, simply because I foolishly thought “Hey, he always uses fountain pens. He likes those. Getting a quality one that is personalised will maybe make him like me too? Just a bit?” ...an idiotic thought in hindsight.

I still think about the birthdays. I often think about my father - I look like him. On particularly bad days, I look into the mirror, and all I see is him.

I know I sometimes behave like him, in the sense that...I kind of have a bad temper? And I tend to get loud when I’m upset. I don’t know if it’s genetics, or if it’s learned behaviour. I have told most of my friends and family to tell me whenever I’m doing it, because sometimes I do it without noticing...and I’m actively trying to unlearn it. Sometimes there are slip-ups, and I make mistakes. It happens, but please tell me if I mess up, so I can apologise and do better next time.

Now my mother is equally hot-headed, equally stubborn, equally as loud. So when we argue, it tends to get messy sometimes.

Like today. It was because of something minor, I don’t even recall what it was about, but I ended up raising my voice in frustration and anger, which frankly, was a bad move. I need to work on that.

So my lovely mother, who already told me once that I am but “a ruined human being” to her, proceeds to look me in the eye, and says:

“You are just like your father.”

And leaves the room.

And I know that she probably meant “You are just as loud as him”, but it sent me spiralling.

Because my father was a manipulative, self-absorbed, irascible, abusive human being who didn’t shy away from driving his daughter into depression and to the brink of suicide with his words and his fists.

And I’ve been wondering for the last few hours: what if she’s right? I already adopted some of his behaviour and am having a hard time unlearning it. What if there’s more? What if I am a manipulative, self-absorbed, irascible, abusive human being and I don’t notice it?

What if I’m hurting and scaring my mother in the same way that he did? What if I’m hurting my girlfriend in the same way that he did? And just cannot see it?

Look. Objectively and logically I know it’s not the case. But my brain keeps circlimg back to “But what if it IS the case?” and I am disgusted and scared and insecure and just want to crawl into a hole and never to come out again because what if my brain is right?

...May 15th, yall.

#Sweet is rambling #tw: abuse #tw: suicide mention #it's literally just the word being mentioned though #it's a long read so feel free to ignore #but I'm in a really bad place right now #so if I go quiet for a while that's why #which I don't know if I'll do yet bc socmed is distracting me #but yeah

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our-wargame · 3 years

Text

I’m No Angel, I’m Just Me

Rating: G Pairing: Oda Sakunosuke / Dazai Osamu Major Tags: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, CAREFUL; Ango’s a Hero Summary:

Odasaku gets a box. A heart-shaped box of chocolates on Valentine's Day. Ango looks rather bored in comparison to his puzzlement.

"Who would send me-"

Ango stares at him like he can't tell if he's being serious or not. "Are you kidding me."

Alternatively: Odasaku is oblivious, Dazai is ridiculous, and Ango is a goddamn saint who deserves a raise.

Word Count: 2,432 AO3 LINK

It begins like this. He's just sitting at the bar with Ango, discussing the latter's latest reports on weekly finances, when the bartender speaks, "Ah, Oda-kun?" He raises his head. The bartender offers a small smile. "I had a special request to give this to you." He bends over his side of the counter and when he straightens up, he has a little box in red in his hands. It's a heart shaped box. In the mafia, Valentine's Day is a joke; Port Mafia has their own little running tradition/gag. Instead of giving gifts to the person you love the most, you send candy to the person you like the least. Every year without fail, Dazai gets two or three subordinates to help him lug the bags of Chuuya's treats to the bar. Ango and Odasaku will each take a single piece or two upon being offered, while Dazai pick out all of his favorites. Then he tells Odasaku to take as much as he can for the kids and then asks if he still has contacts with that orphanage in the west of the city.

That’s why he doesn’t really understand what's going on right now. The bartender passes him the box. The heart shaped box. Full of chocolates.

In comparison to his puzzlement, Ango looks rather bored.

"Who would-"

"You already know the answer to that," Ango rolls his eyes.

Odasaku raises a brow at him. "What are you implying?"

Ango glances at him. Then stares, like he can't tell if he's being serious or not. "Are you kidding me," he mutters, pulling out his phone, jabbing at the buttons with a certain kind of ferocity and then says into it, "...Dazai-kun?"

"Ango!" Dazai's chirp sounds through the loudspeaker. "How are we doing on this fine-"

"Did you know," Ango interrupts, holding the phone out a few inches from him like it's toxic. "That Odasaku received some chocolates today?"

"Is that so? I'm not surprised! Even though Odasaku isn't very well known among the mafia, he is an attractive, thoughtful, and intriguing single man! It's too bad he isn't actively looking, because if women knew about him they'd be stumbling over one another to give him things, and I don't think either you or I could stand the jealousy!"

"Is that so," Ango says flatly, and then barrels on. "Well. We're trying to figure out who sent them but we could use some help. When are you coming by?"

Odasaku is sure he looks completely bewildered but tries to focus when they get a hum from Dazai.

"Another hour or so! I bought Chuuya a gummy bear as big as him and I'm trying to figure out where to put it..."

"Is that so." Ango looks bored again. "In the meantime, will you share your brilliant deduction skills with us, Mister Executive? Figuring out Odasaku's secret admirer is some tough stuff. I'm stumped."

"I'd be delighted, Special Intelligence Officer! What do you know so far?"

Ango yawns. "Not much. The note-" Ango pauses, as if he's remembering something; still, Odasaku sure doesn't remember there being a note? "The note has neat handwriting so it's probably a woman's."

"Huh. Just to be clear," Dazai sounds very careful, all of a sudden. "There's a love letter? With the chocolates? Addressed to Odasaku?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. This is...interesting." Dazai says, not sounding particularly interested. "Ah, I've decided I'll send Chuuya his gift tomorrow, for the surprise factor. I'm heading to Lupin now."

"Alright, see you soon." Ango responds, promptly hanging up and fixing Odasaku with a look. "Well?"

Uh. Odasaku raises a brow. "Could I get a translation. What was all that just now?"

Ango puts his head down. "What am I going to do with you, Odasaku-san." he mumbles, before clearing his throat and fixing his glasses. "Okay. So. It may come as a surprise to you, but Dazai-kun is the one who sent you the chocolates."

Odasaku blinks. "What?" Why would Dazai do that? He's pretty sure Ango's quite off the mark this time. In fact, now that he's had a chance to think on it, it's more than likely it's an odd choice of prank from one of the other errand boys.

"Trust me," Ango interrupts his guesses as to whom it likely is. "It's Dazai."

"Why would Dazai-"

"I heard my name!" And the man of the hour walks in, with a smile as bright as the sun. "Let me get a crack at this-" His gaze shifts to the box in Odasaku's hand. "Oh. Odasaku really is popular. Is that a second gift?"

Before he can speak, Ango says, "Dazai, he knows it's from you."

Dazai opens his mouth. Closes it. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Huh." Dazai says, scratching his head. "How did you know?"

This feels like a very bizarre dream, and it might be, because putting aside whatever is going on, it seems like the rules say he just doesn't get to speak. Again, Ango answers for him. "I'm a Special Intelligence Officer, Dazai-kun. Anyways, better question: where are my chocolates?"

"Your chocolates."

Ango looks at Dazai like he's the crazy one. "Uh, yes? My chocolates? I thought you were giving them to all your friends?"

Dazai breaks out into a grin. "Of course, I was!" He reaches into his jacket. Ango is handed a candy bracelet. "A friendship bracelet, if you will!"

"...is this Chuuya's candy-"

"I was kidding!" Dazai says, reaching into his jacket again. "You're no fun, Ango." And this time he pulls a little box the size of his fist, white with a little brown bow over the top. Now Ango wears surprise as he takes the box and examines the entire package before taking off the top. Indeed, there are chocolates there.

"...huh," says Ango.

"I know you didn't get me friend-chocolates back," he beams at Ango. "But it is okay, because I love you no matter what, Ango!"

"Thanks, Mister Executive," Ango stands up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." He disappears in an instant.

Dazai signals to the bartender. "Boss, will you get me a coffee? I'll need it to wash Chuuya's crap down. I should probably eat some, just to show him I appreciate how we maintain our mutual distaste for one another, right, Odasaku?"

Odasaku thinks about answering but then vetoes the idea, decides to ask, "Did you really send this?" with a little gesture to Dazai's apparent present to him.

Dazai clears his throat. "I did! Now where are Odasaku's other gifts. We'll figure out who sent them to Odasaku and then maybe we'll track her down, the two of you will go on a date and then kiss kiss, fall in love." Dazai's smile doesn't look very Dazai in the moment.

Odasaku makes an awkward shrug. "Ah...I'm not sure what Ango was trying to say but he made that up. Maybe he thought it'd be funny, or something?"

"Huh. Dazai says, pressing his lips together. "Did he."

When Odasaku does the same, Dazai's look fades away to a reassuring smile. This one's more real than the other one, Odasaku can see. But it's still not real enough for his preference.

He glances at the box he's placed on the counter, halfway between them. "Thank you, Dazai." He says. "No one's made me friend-chocolates before." And even though Dazai seems to be good at everything he does, he still took time and effort to make a gift for Odasaku. It's...really really sweet of him actually.

"Ah. They're not..."

"They're not...?" Made? When he'd looked at them, he thought they had to be made from an amateur's mold equipment.

Dazai doesn't reply. And when Odasaku looks at him closer, Dazai shakes his head and his bangs fall into his face, hiding his eye for a second. Odasaku feels an impulsive urge to reach over and tuck those strands behind his ear.

Head still down, Dazai talks to the floor. "Will you try them?"

Odasaku blinks. In the middle of Ango's enormously confusing behavior, he hadn't considered the idea at all but now there's no reason not to. He pops the lid off and places it on the side, then picks up a simple semi-sphere piece and brings it to his tongue. And. Wow. "It's...it's really good." He glances at Dazai, who doesn't look as pleased as Oda is used to seeing in situations like this, considering the occasions where Dazai makes him curry or the three of them hotpot, and a compliment sends Dazai into his little show of mock horn-tooting. "How...how long did it take you to learn how to make these?"

"Not very long." Dazai gives him a soft smile- this, this is the one Odasaku likes to see. Wants to see more often. "It was fun learning."

Odasaku nods his chin to the box. Dazai, agreeable and good-natured, picks up a triangular piece with rounded edges. His has caramel or something filling it inside, because a bit of sunset orange leaks out of the sweet when he bites down. It spills onto his lower lip before he swipes his tongue and licks it back into his mouth. Odasaku doesn't realize he's staring until Dazai glances at him, almost curious. Odasaku blinks, then gives the box on the counter a little push towards Dazai, who shakes his head a little. "I shouldn't spoil my appetite. Since Chuuya tried to outbuy me again...the least I should do is outeat him, right?"

"Do you ever let him win?"

Dazai grins again and then conversation about even sillier things breaks out.

A few hours later, Odasaku's in his study room when he gets a call that fills the entire apartment. It's Ango. "Hi, it's Oda-"

"Yeah, hey, so, uh? What the hell?"

He pulls the phone from his ear. "What? Also assuming your bladder didn't burst, next time let Dazai and I know you have to go. We were wondering where you were."

"You-" Ango exhales. "Odasaku-san. I." There's a muffled crackle and then a distant yell, like Ango covered the microphone to shout to the void.

"Ango?"

"Right. You listen very carefully," says Ango, in a rush. "I'm very tired of watching Dazai pine. It's not annoying so much as it is pitiful and if you show that guy pity, he considers killing you, so that's not very fun for me. Also since he's going to kill me after what I did today anyways, I just want to say: Dazai has a huge crush on you. He's in love with you. Has been, probably since forever. Please deal with him. When I die, buy me a grave somewhere I can overlook the sea okay, and on the headstone, it should say: Man Who Put Up With Too Much Shit. If I'm still alive after 48-hours, we'll go to the bar and I'll buy you all the scotch you can drink. Do not call me before then because you should be dealing with Dazai and I will be trying to avoid the inevitable hitmen. Goodbye, Odasaku-san."

Odasaku only catches the first half of his call. Dazai's...Dazai's what?

Ango's wrong. Dazai wouldn't...not with him. He's pretty sure. Pretty sure...

He thinks about every elapsed second when they were in the same room together, the warmth in Dazai's eyes when they'd parted a little past nine, the way he walked in and looked at Odasaku like-

Oh. Odasaku's stomach drops out of his body. The more time he spends reviewing, the more things starts to make sense. He starts turning the tape of his memory even further- last month, Tuesday, the Thursday before that-

Oh.

And then. He comes back to today. Thinks about orange caramel, pink lips, a smile of starlight-

Oh.

---------------------------------------------------------

Dazai's tired. Really tired okay. It's late and he's been working on a report that he actually planned to finish earlier. And it's been a long day. And last night, he stayed up kind of late to make sweets for people, including a friend (who no longer deserves to be named Such) and a silly guy who's as incredible as he is ridiculous and-

Bleh. This is getting gross. Frankly, he does not vibe with this.

So he pours himself a glass of milk and watches it go round and round in the microwave- radiation, what? -when his phone rings in the next room. The ringtone means it's Odasaku, he knows already, and thinks about pretending to be asleep. Doesn't really want to though, and so he takes the call, says, "Hi, it's Dazai."

"Are you busy?"

"Not really." Dazai drawls as best as he can. "Checking up on little lonely me, Odasaku?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were home."

A knock. At the door. Dazai turns and goes for it, working the latch lock at the same time he builds himself up for this. He pulls the door handle back. Odasaku stands there, filling the door frame.

"Hey," Dazai greets, smiling despite himself. "What can I do for Odasaku at this fine hour?"

"First of all, I've had to process a lot." Odasaku pauses. "And I'm as unused to expressing my shit out loud as you are, so fair warning but here it goes. I was going to try my hand at the making chocolates thing. I figured it'd show reciprocation? But it's even harder than I thought it was, and I didn't want to look like I don't care as much as you do." He puts his hand on the back of his neck, which Dazai has learned to mean equal parts sheepish and nervous- which in itself, rarely shows, but when it does, is Odasaku running a hand through his hair.

Of course, Dazai's not registering this at all. He's too busy trying to understand what Odasaku is saying, if Odasaku means...

"And I could learn and practice." Odasaku blinks at him. "But I didn't want to wait for White Day. I figured I've made you wait long enough."

Dazai laughs a little. Laughs a little more, and when he reaches for Odasaku's hand, Odasaku lets him take it, takes the encouraging pull for what it is and steps a little closer, still looking at Dazai like...Dazai is something he needs.

"Ango hasn't fully been pardoned yet," he tells Odasaku, after closing the door and leading them into the kitchen. The microwave shows the time. Dazai has a report to do that he minds a little less. "But I've decided I'll let Ango live a little longer. He's okay sometimes."

"Just okay?"

Dazai grins.

#odazai #odazai fluff #odzfluffweek2020 #please scream abt them with me #as always; reblogs are so dang appreciated #i crosspost; yes i do; im a sucker for validation #my writing

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askthiscpblog · 3 years

Text

Showdown: The King vs The Jack

After months of planning and hiding, everything is ready.

As viewers of the red room came flooding in eager to watch what's believed to be the grand finale of the infamous Slaughter Show. The Cutthroat sits on an old crate withered from rot and mildew that didn't appear to be able to hold his weight.

His temporary partner waited for his command to open the seal to the room that contains his attacker from a decade ago. The monster's been healing wounds from a wolfman and a stab wound he self-inflected to save his attacker from being a happy meal to his partner.

In about 5 minutes the door will open and the Cutthroat will finally have his revenge. Even though he wanted this fight to start yesterday, he's also an entertainer. His audience has been eager for this day almost as much as he has. There are no heroes in this grand finale. Only two monsters in a cage digging their metallic fangs into each other. He's not even sure if he can win after seeing him duke it out with a wolfman. It makes no difference; only one will survive and there will be one less killer in the world.

Thirty seconds left before the grand show. The Cutthroat kept fiddling with the knife in his hand, feeling the weight of it, eyes glancing up to the door every few seconds. The one thing he has trained for the past ten years is finally about to happen. Whispering to himself, “Five…..four…..three….two-” the door flies open with a loud crack like thunder as it hits the wall. Inside the room is only darkness.

The smiling pasty man stood at the once sealed door, ears ringing from the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. On one hand, a knife and in the other a piece of paper was a notice that the final show's today. The vein on his head pulsed, his body ready to go after his mysterious capture. Although he was at a large disadvantage when he noticed there was only one way out. That means an ambush could happen once he left, and there was nowhere to hide in the room but a mattress and a latrine bucket. There were no other shadows with the lightbulb in the middle still on.

“Hmmm...oh! Now that's an idea.” The man turned to the light, closing the door behind him. Looking at it with his ever unblinking stare, he takes an empty bucket that was in the corner and swings it at the bulb as hard as he can. A semi-loud pop rings in the room as glass shatters to the floor. The light vanished in an instant to a void of black. He then hid. Ready to pounce. His fang was ever ready to taste the crimson water of his prey. Then the door swung open slamming into the wall like an angry beast and outside was a faint light.

The Cutthroat raises an eyebrow at the blackened room knowing full well that a light should be on, but then again he did supply his opponent a weapon. His vanquishing of the light is not that hard to believe. He hops off the box, landing on the ground without a speck of dust out of place. The rotten cube he was sitting on, yet, finally gives in and crumbles, releasing the rusted scaffolding onto the ground. He looks back and sighs. “Smooth.” He grumbled to himself. Approaching the doorway with a survival knife at hand, ready to draw first blood.

As he enters the threshold, he swings the blade to his right to strike his opponent at once. It worked! If his opponent was there. That’s when something large and heavy hits the Cutthroat and pushes him back out the door onto his ass.

“Shit!” He screams, seeing a mattress is coming down on him fast.

“You looked like you’re overworked. I think you need to head to bed!” A voice called from the other end.

The Cutthroat rolled back avoiding the mattress and hopped back to his feet, but was knocked right back down. He lost the grip of his blade as a white blur charged right into his abdomen knocking the breath out of him. Then there was a sharp sting at his side, white-hot pain, and the smell of iron. Out of reflex he grabs his attacker's jacket, follows his momentum, falls onto his back, and throws him backward over his head using his legs to kick him further. His opponent was stunned for a moment and that gave him enough time to melt into the shadows to regain his breath.

Everything was quiet. The killer gets back to his feet and looks around taking in the surrounding area. It looks like an abandoned warehouse, the walls of the building covered in what he believes a black foam. He's seen this in one of his housemates' rooms; it was meant to absorb sound. The killer’s smile grew wider, liking that his so-called host was nice enough to make sure that there will be nothing to worry about. No one coming snooping around from the racket they are making made everything more fun. He holds up his blade seeing it covered in blood. His host's blood.

“You know?! With all the big talk you were doing months ago I thought this would have been fun, but I guess I’m just too good! No wonder why you wanted me as a guest star! Your show must be shit!” The killer calls out hoping to get a response, but nothing. He huffed and started the search for his wounded prey.

In the shadows, Cutthroat slumps behind an old crate putting pressure on his new wound. He's surprised at how fast the situation turned but was a bit pleased. He's worried that this would have been a bland fight and he would come out on top. His train of thought cut short by his attacker yelling for him. A smile forms behind the mask now knowing what he's up against. He gets back up and inches his way to a spot that will give him the best flanking position. Picking up one of the many knives that's hidden in the old building, he gets into position readying his new blade in hand, waiting for the right time to strike. This may not be good for his viewers, but he needs this surprise counter attack if he wants to get a leg up on his opponent.

As he feels the bloodlust of his prey getting near it reminded him of that dreaded day. He started to look back on what made him who he is today but shook that off. The first hint of anxiety started to bubble in the back of his head. After a minute of calming himself down, he almost missed the glint of sharp metal coming for his head. Ducking as it glanced his head, the Cutthroat delivers a counter-attack to his opponent with a cut to the stomach. It landed but was too shallow to do any real harm. The smiling man hops back, feeling the blade graze him, and now has a good view of his abductor.

Before he was a man wearing all black. Long-sleeved zipped up hoodie with the hood up, black jeans tucked in a dark brown pair of combat boots. His hands have fingerless gloves with his pale fingers revealed. It would be hard to see someone like that in a dark room if it weren't for the pure white mask on his face. That mask had a black smile and joyful eye holes that reveal his dark green eyes that seemed familiar to the pale killer.

“Not bad Jeff. That’s twice you got me off guard, but I guess that my fault.” The masked man speaks to him in a nonchalant tone.

The killer that is now known as Jeff replies with a cackle. “Well, that’s what happens when you go against a pro dickweed.”

The Cutthroat scoffs. “Pro?” He looks at Jeff’s chest not daring to meet his eyes.

“Most of your kills are stuck in beds. If you’re a pro then I’m an Olympic…..” within mid-sentence his left wrist shifted with a knife sliding out of the sleeve and in rapid motion, he threw it at Jeff’s face. The killer’s eyes widen to the sudden attack and take a quick sidestep. When he looked back to the masked man he was right on top of him. Cutthroat strikes at Jeff’s chest with an underhand side stab as he finishes his sentence in a low raspy voice, “.... Athlete.”

Jeff was able to adjust his body right before the blade entered his body. It missed his heart by the width of a few strands of his unwashed hair. Jeff wrenched in pain and went to retaliate with a similar blow, but the Cutthroat retreats. Getting into a basic knife fighting stance, he cursed under his breath because he knew he missed. Jeff on the other hand got a look of anger in his unblinking blue eyes, but his everlasting smile grew larger.

“IT’S ABOUT TIME I GET TO HAVE FUN!” He bellows, the blood pouring from his fresh wound.

--------------------------------

At the Slenderman’s manor, a boy in a green outfit sat drinking a large soda cup in a dark room with a monitor lighting up his face. He was scanning the deep web looking for any leads of the enemy or what happened to his housemate Jeff. He was more focused on the second part. Mumbling to himself as he runs through all the sites. “Junk, Junk, Junk, Save, Junk, junk……”

A knock came from the other side of his door. Before he had a chance to answer, it opens. Letting light pour inside the blackened room a woman in light blue nightgown stands at the threshold. Her raven black hair shines from the light. Her jet black eyes scan the room as she enters.

“Anything yet Ben?” The woman asks the boy.

He responded, “Noooope. Nothing. I personally say call off the search and say he is dead, also Jane wait till I say you can come in. It’s rude.”

Sighing, the woman continues, “I would love to do the same too, but if he was dead then the boss would have known, also don’t give me that crap. You and the clown love intruding everyone’s rooms.”

Ben looks at her and smiles then continues what he is doing. “You know. It’s not like Zel to keep prisoners, especially this long. Not to mention putting up with his ass.” He says a little puzzled. Jane nods agreeing with him.

“Then who would want to kidnap the fuck”? she asked, more to herself.

“You”. Ben replied, knowing her relationship with Jeff it slipped off the tongue.

“Very funny, but let’s be serious. Who would want to take him? Ya I would, but not like anyone else has a bone to pick with…...hmm.” Jane had an unsure look from her statement as if she was questioning what she said. Her face tightens as she spaced out in thought.

Ben watched her, raising an eyebrow to her spacing out. “Earth to Jane. Are you there? What are you thinking?” The woman blinked a few times and shook her head then looked at the boy in green. Finally replying.

“....Lookup a red room called the Slaughter Show. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow to the request. “You do know red rooms aren’t real. Right? It’s nearly impossible to do live streaming in the deep….and who is he?” He replied wondering what she was talking about.

“Just do it!” She snapped at him. A worried look washes over her face. Ben rolls his eyes and does his search. It took about 5 mins, but lo and behold there it was. Sight with the title with blood font called the Slaughter Show.

“Ok. How do you know this existed?” He asked, trying to get in the chat room with the live video feed. Jane bites her lower lip to the question. Not sure if she should say. It was like this for 30 seconds until she opened her mouth.

“Well-" she started to speak but was cut off as the screen on the monitor changed showing a chat room with several live video feeds. Ben goes to click on one and becomes a full screen. It shows what seems to be the inside of a warehouse, filled with random large boxes scattered all about, some withered and others rotting of mildew. Two figures standing at each other one in a black hoodie with a white smiling mask that reveals piercing green eyes behind it. And the one in a bloodstained white hoodie with black greasy hair, a pure white scared face with a carved smile and unblinking glare with blue eyes.

“Oh look at that. It's Jeff…..why is Jeff in a red room?” Ben asked, then looked at Jane. She has a look of hate on her face, but with her eyes full of grief she utters out a single word in a hushed tone.

"Jace….”

---------------------------------------------

The two co-star killers standoff with one other, each blade coated in the red liquid of life. Not moving until the other does. The tenseness of the air thickens as seconds feel like days that lead to eternity. Both knowing that one will die tonight and the winner will walk away.

Finally, the smiling killer known as Jeff goes charging in for his opponent. He swings haymakers at him, not aiming anywhere, knowing it will land on his target. So long it connects, he doesn't care.

The other man sidesteps the attack and goes for a stab to counter-attack, but Jeff slammed his right foot on the ground, swinging his left fist at the masked man, socking him dead in the face. The impact sends him stumbling back. A loud yelp comes from Jeff, screaming, “The fuck is that thing made of!?”

Regaining his footing, the man who calls himself Cutthroat rebounds at Jeff soon after, striking at his neck. Out of pure reflex, he hops back avoiding the attack by a few inches. Seeing an opportunity the killer Jeff slices at Cutthroat's hand. Blood spilled to the floor and he lost his grip on the knife from the sudden pain. Jeff then followed his attack by stomping down on his opponent’s foot and stabs into his left shoulder. A high pitched shrill manifested behind the smiling mask. Cutthroat tried to back away, but it was in vain. The blade exists the wound, leaving a hole as blood followed out of it and he went to stab again. Over years of honing his reflex's Cutthroat catches the arm with both his hands, stopping it. This is where he realized differences in their strengths. Jeff was overpowering him with a single-arm, it getting closer inch by agonizing inch. Jeff was staring into his opponent’s eyes, but they didn't gaze back at his.

“Looks like we got to do it the old fashion way.” He whispered to himself as his left arm strikes like a viper at the man’s throat. Crushing the windpipe from his powerful grip, he held onto the man. No one ever thinks to protect their throat. Cutthroat was losing more and more space between him and the knife, his strength was depleting. As a last-ditch effort, his right arm lets go, shooting upward striking the ball of his palm right under Jeff’s nose. A jolt of pain goes through the killer’s nose and to his face reels back out of natural reaction. Cutthroat stumbles backward gasping for air that burns in his oxygen-deprived lungs.

Fighting through the pain Jeff glared at him, but everything was blurry. The darkness of the building made it worse. All he can do is observe the gasping getting further away from him. He tries to chase his wounded foe, but ran into an iron column, falling on his ass cursing profanity as he clinched his face.

Cutthroat limped away holding the fresh puncture wound. When he heard Jeff cussing, he takes the opportunity to climb some of the crates until he was sixteen feet off the ground. He lowered himself down onto the large crate, careful to not make any noise when doing so. He also wasn't sure how stable it was, but he first assessed the wound while up there.

'Gah…. no way to stop the bleeding if I keep using my arm. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?' He thought to himself. Then he shakes his head, willing the thought away.

'No! You didn’t kill all those people just so that you can turn tail and run…' He protested. As he finishes his thought a faint glow catches the corner of his eye. He turns with a sudden, swift movement and saw nothing but black. He takes a deep breath and sighs. 'Must be hallucinating. Not surprising.' Reassuring himself was easy, but it is still finding it hard to regain his confidence in this. Despite the feeling, he plans his next strike. He is no match going head-on, but if he can wear him down then the odds will be in his favor. He pulled back his left sleeve and smirks behind the mask.

Jeff sat on the ground in a painting daze. His nose is sore from the blow he received minutes earlier. The blow was not strong enough to break it but had enough to blind the pale murderer for a brief moment. Sight becoming clearer every passing second he picks himself up off the concrete floor. His breath coming out in huffs infuriated that he's hurt by something so weak in the fight he was winning. Forgetting about the stab wound he received earlier, he looked around the area.

Despite his fuming anger, he could not shake the feeling that fighting his masked opponent felt familiar. Did they fight in the past? No. That can’t be. Jeff would have remembered that irritation. It felt like how he and Jane would fight. Like a feeling of familiarity when the blades clash, but why is he getting this same feeling from this guy? As he starts to lose himself in thought until something touches Adam’s apple of his throat. He snaps back to reality and his eyes shot down what looks to be a string of web, but thicker. He raised his imaginary eyelids and non-existent eyebrows widen of a shock to the realization that it was not a web, but a wire around his neck. The moment he reacted to it, the wire noose shrieked around his throat and started to lift him in that air. He flailed as a fish caught on a hook unable to free himself. Jeff’s eyes looked up for a brief moment and sees dark green eyes in the dark above.

The longer he was hanging the more he panicked and struggled, which lead the wire to start cutting in him, crushing his windpipe. He tries to get his fingers under the nose, but it’s far too tight. He then tries to grab the line to pull himself up to gain slack. His hand slips realizing it's lubricated. Cutting the wire does not do much because it was piano wire, something a knife can't cut through. Time is ticking by and he feels himself losing consciousness. As a final attempt starts to swing his body toward the creates that held the hangman.

Cutthroat started to panic at this. Using rail as a pulley made it easier to hold Jeff off the ground, but now it’s backfiring. He has no control over stopping him and his struggling makes it more difficult to host him up anymore. He could drop down with the wire and use the momentum to rise Jeff up higher, but that can backfire in many ways. He was playing out different scenarios he can do within the span of a few seconds in his head. As this was happening, Jeff got enough momentum to crash into the creates. Holding on for a moment, he then pushed off as hard as he can with his legs separating both him and the box. The force shifted the heavy crate making the column of mildew coated cubes too unstable to balance on. The Cutthroat let go of the cable and leaped to another batch of creates that was lower, as his column crumbled to the ground like Jenga blocks. Jeff crashed down onto the hard floor knocking the breath out of him.

Scrambling to undo the noose, he pulls it off to be able to catch his breath. It was painful, but refreshing as the air fill his lungs was the best thing he felt in a while. This was short-lived as the tower went crashing down near him. Noticing this, Jeff rolled away at the last second as it crashed where he was laying. He starts to get to his feet coughing for air until something gleamed from the dark and struck him. Pak, Pak, pak! 3 throwing knives embedded themselves in him. One in his right craft and two in the gut. Jeff gasped at this, the sudden pain flooding him, but before he could do anything a boot smashed right in his face from a flying kick, knocking Jeff right off his feet again and onto his back. Seizing the advantage, Cutthroat comes in with a curb stomp at Jeff’s head. The Grinning killer rolled out of the way right before the impact, the boot missing his face. Jeff scrambles back to his feet in an instant. Pulling the knives out of him, he armed both his hands with one each, letting the last one fall to the ground at his feet. His opponent's sudden change of tactics threw him off, but now this is how he fights. A good old knife to a knife fight. No more hiding and no more tricks.

Jeff readies himself in a semi sprinting pose. His muscles like compressed springs, set to release at any moment. As for his opposition, he is in a tighter pose, his left arm vertical in front of his chest and holding his knife close, pointing it at Jeff with his right hand.

The tension in the air as high as the two waited for whatever trigger would start the fight. Jeff stares down Cutthrought’s eyes, but no matter how long he looks at them they won't meet his. He suspected that he's informed that anyone who looks in his eyes becomes paralyzed with fear. This goes on for two long minutes until Jeff finally loses patience and sets off his muscles. Lunging himself forward at an inhuman speed, thrusting his right arm forward striking at Cutthroat’s chest. Cutthroat takes a sidestep in a 45-degree angle to his left, dodging the blade’s bite and making a quick stab into Jeff’s stomach. Jeff roared in pain as he took a few steps back. Cutthroat did not give him a chance to gain any ground between them.

“What's the matter, Jeff? You started out pretty strong, but I guess that's the only way you could kill someone is catching them off guard.” Cutthroat says as he strikes Jeff’s chest. The pale man sides steps, causing it to miss and counterattacks for Cutthroat to dodge it like the one before. Jeff pressed on with another strike with his second blade at his heart.

“But I know how to make it hurt!” Cutthroat raised his left arm to take the blow as it drove in deep with a quick turn to follow. Cutthroat screams out in agony at the white-hot pain of the wound tearing wider. Slamming the side of his right boot with his left, he kicks Jeff right in the shin. Jeff’s eyes widened in shock. He falls backward from his leg gives out under him. He grabs it as blood pours out of the new stab wound in it.

“Oh, you got to be shitting me?!” Dumbfounded, he gritted his teeth as he saw the blade protruding from the boot that kicked him.

“Gah! A bit overkill I admit, but agh! It gives me the leg u-up.” Cutthroat joked in pain as he goes for another kick. Jeff braced himself, his arms over his face taking the blow of the blade tipped boot. He gritted his teeth as it pierced the flesh, he fell on his back from the force. Jeff groaned as he tried to sit up, but crashed back down from Cutthroat’s boot stopping down on his chest.

“What's the matter, Jeff?! I thought you put up more of a fight!” Cutthroat mocked, stomping down on Jeff’s chest over and over until something gold moved at the corner of his eye. He reacts to it, turning to see what it was and finds nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stand as he pulls out the forth throwing knife of the six he has in his jacket. He then saw the gold in his peripheral again to his left.

'Did they find him?' He thought to himself.

“Better finish the show before it gets canceled,” he mumbled under his breath. He turns to Jeff who is now dragging himself away from him since the Cutthroat had his attention elsewhere. He's heading to a broken crate. With a single motion, the Cutthroat threw the blade at the killer’s back, embedding itself under the left shoulder blade.

“Fuck!” Jeff yelled, not from pain, but aggravation. The masked man starts to approach his prey to finish the job until something. No. Someone whispers in his right ear, “Hello, Jason.”

Before Cutthroat could react, a golden string looped around his neck and yanked him back. He couldn't gasp from the shock and pain as it tightened around his airway. Cutthroat’s hands shot up to free himself from the shimmering choke cord. Grasping and digging, but he couldn't find any purchase on the string. He looked all around to find his attacker, finding nothing until he looked up.

A transparent young-looking man floated above him. He dressed in what looked to be a grey sweater with an open black trench coat over top. His legs and feet covered with black pants and a pair of untied black and white basketball shoes. The man’s head revealed gray skin with eyes and teeth shimmer gold. His hair is black and goes to the nape of his neck with a gray beanie rest on top. His hands covered with black gloves as the golden strings come out of the tips of his fingers. He smiled at Cutthroat once they made eye contact.

“Took a bit to find you two. If it wasn't for the live feed you were broadcasting I don't think we would ever pick up your trail.”

Cutthroat’s movement starts to stiffen as his new puppet master pulls on the strings, making sure it was slow and methodical. He tries to reach for his last throwing knife. It was impossible as his arms were now being raised over like an old marionette doll. Fear starts to creep up to the Cutthroat’s mind. Unsure what to do as he tries to break free, desperate to get out of the situation at hand.

Jeff looks back to see his opposition and sighs with relief, seeing one of his housemates, the Puppeteer, had arrived and caught him like a fly in a spider’s web. The pale man stands up without a sound, limping to a rotten demolished crate to pick up an old scaffolding screw covered in rust. He brandished it in his hands. His smile once again grew as he turned and made his way back to Cutthroat. The walk back was slow, so very slow. Jeff’s mind wondered during this. He imagined how he would kill this man and how he would savor the moment. How he will enjoy it when he breaks his bones and tears out inners. Now standing right before the Cutthroat, he savored watching him struggle. Cutthroat was too wrapped in the fear of being restrained to realize what was going on around him. Jeff without warning swings the hunk of iron. The point of the screw impacted the lift side of the Cutthroat’s mask, causing a crack to ring through the enclosed area. He was knocked right off his feet and the Puppeteer was so busy with the new plaything that he wasn't prepared for the sudden shift in movement.

“Shit! Jeff! You asshole!” Puppet yelled at the smiling man from above.

The Cutthroat's vision was hazy like hundreds of gnats were flying around him. His mind was to a near blank as he is fading in and out of consciousness. He could hear noises around him. It sounded like people were arguing, but he couldn't make out the words. He lifts his left hand to his mask and feels a new puncture in it with something wet on the outside. Pulling back with care, he looks at it and tries to concentrate on what he was seeing. It was blood. The palm of his gloved hand was covered in fresh blood. His head was spinning on what happened a second ago. He tries to lift himself, but the pain in his head made him drop. He knows if he doesn't do something he will die and that all he has killed will be in vain. He reached for the flare gun he had hoisted in his jacket, making sure the other two couldn't see his movements. Right, when he was about to pull it out the arguing stopped and a voice rings out. It was closer this time where he could make out the words.

“Oh no, you don’t!” The Strings in his arms pulled and forced Cutthroat to starfish on the ground. His hand was still on the gun, but unable to pull the trigger.

“Damn it, Jeff! You have any idea what a dumbass you are!?” Puppet cried out in fury to him.

Jeff waved him off. “Relax. String bean.” He stands over Cutthroat and readies himself to swing the screw leg down on his head. Looking him in the eyes one last time, but is infuriated that they would not meet his. Jeff drops the blunt object and pulls the knife from his back. Limping around and dropping his knees on Cutthroat’s arms, this caused both to wince in pain for different reasons.

“You know? I'm getting tired of this fake smile of yours. I think it's time I give you a real one.” Jeff said as he rips the mask off revealing another smile.

“What the fuck?” Jeff whispered in disbelief as he didn't recognize the man’s face. It was almost looking in a reflection. His skin has a natural pale tone. His hair was a clean midnight black and his mouth showed distress, but that’s not what Jeff was looking at. There at the ends of his mouth was a scared smile that reached to his cheekbones. Jeff was silent for a moment, then roared into laughter over the other man. Putting his left hand on his forehead and bend himself back.

“No wonder why you want me dead so bad! You're just like her! Another person I failed to make beautiful!” Puppet looked at Jeff with an unamused look thinking that the Seedeater without its rag in its head is still prettier than him. The thought was interrupted as he starts to feel the flow of negative energy that was increasing every second. He looks over to see it was coming out of the pined man that he learned was named Jason. The energy was sweet but was slowing turning into a spicy bitter taste. This made the Puppeteer uneasy because both are common from Jeff and Slenderman’s proxy, Masky.

“Yo Jeff let’s wrap this up and head back. Somethi-“ Puppet started.

“Give me a moment string bean! Let me enjoy the moment.” Jeff interrupted, wanting to savor the moment.

Jeff leans in front of Jason’s face, inches from one another. Jason’s breathing pattern is gaining speed trying to closes his eyes out of desperation, but to no avail as that too was being controlled. Then the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs happened. Jason’s eyes locked with Jeff’s.

The smile on Jeff’s face widens even more that it looked as if it would tear his head in half. He finally got what he wanted. Now that his itch satisfied he pulls up the knife to Jason’s face and whispers three simple words, “Go.”

Jason’s vision was melting away memories from 10 years back into the past, to the fateful day that changed and ruined his life forever. Remembering how those eyes have tortured his body, mind, and soul. How he was held down on his bed as the dark demonic figure with bulging blue eyes cut his mouth open with a sharp rusty knife as slow as he could.

As Jeff utters his second word, “To.” Puppet felt that the flow of energy turned into a torrent as if a floodgate opened. It was intoxicating to the point he felt nauseous. He side glanced at Jeff as he puts the knife on the scared smile. Puppet cries out to him. “Jeff!”

“Sleep!” Jeff finishes his sentence and as he starts to cut a bright red flash engulfed the dark building. Puppet reared back in pain as the glow touched him from the light source. Jeff's vision goes white from the flair of the light after being in darkness since the start of the fight. He throws his hands up to his face trying to block the light then as if on cue, he's thrown on to his back from a sudden force underneath him.

“What the?!” Jeff yelled in confusion As Jason sat up and lunged himself onto Jeff. Mounting Jeff as he did to him. Jeff’s eyes started to adjust to the light and what he saw in his blurred vision was Jace’s tear-soaked eyes that were on the face of malus. Jeff thought he had him with his paralyzing glare until he was pistol-whipped right on the bridge of his nose by the empty flair gun in Jason’s hand. Jeff’s head spun and reeled from the pain of the blow. Unsure if what happened was real. Wham! He's hit again, but this time on his left temple. The pain sends his head spinning again with the understanding of what his predicament was.

The gun comes down for another blow, stopped at the midpoint as Jeff grabbed it to keep it back. He could push it back, but this time Jason has more force in his strength that was matching his own.

“What type of anime bullshit is this?!” Jeff howled in anger, only to be cut off as Jason started to strangle him with his free hand cutting off the windpipe with a monstrous force. Jeff strikes at Jason’s throat with his knife-hand. Jason lets go of the choking man to stop the fatal attack to avoid the fatal blow. Jeff bucks Jason off of him and stagers to get back on his feet as Jason tumbles and recovers in a kneeled position.

Jason stands up with the amazing speed and charges Jeff with his blunt weapon. Jeff goes for a side step, but his injured leg gives out from the sudden movement and the gun collides into his face, reintroducing them. Knocking him off his feet once more and landing on his right side. Jason with deft fingers pulls out another flare from his bloody jacket and starts to reload the gun and aims it point-blank at Jeff.

The pale killer struggles to get back on his feet as the gun fired. The flair shot far to his right. Jeff looked at the flare and looks back to Jason that his firing arm is yanked away by golden strings.

“What the hell is up with this guy? He is like a mini-you, Jeff.” The weakened Puppeteer remarked, the blast taking more out of him than he thought. That set Jason off. He screamed like gravel filled banshee and grabbed at the strings, yanking Puppet towards him. Puppet, caught off guard by this action, was a ragdoll. Jason looped around him and pulled the strings tight to the corporeal neck. This didn't concern Puppet at first because he does not breathe. Not until he was being dragged towards the light of the flare. He dismissed the strings that were holding them both and flew back out of panic. Jason loaded the third flare into the gun and fired it at the ghost. Puppet avoided the shot and retreats to a dark corner of the building to recuperate his losses.

Seeing that the intruder fled he turns back to Jeff to meet eye to eye with only a couple of feet between the two. Jeff slams his blade into the shoulder wound that Jason retrieved earlier. Burning pain ran through Jason’s arm. He screamed out in pain letting go of the gun and lashed out at Jeff. Grabbing onto his hair he brings both his and Jeff’s into one another, headbutting Jeff’s teeth. Before Jeff can retaliate, he repeated the same action two more times before Jeff pulled the knife out of Jason and cuts his hair. Once freed from the assault he roared with rage through bloody lips as he lowered himself to Jason’s chest and tackles him with an explosive impact. Not ready for such a move both Jason and Jeff go flying to the ground. Jeff stabbed his opponent but found that it was difficult as Jason was wrestling him in a tooth and nail for the knife. Jeff socks him on the cheek causing him to screech from the pain of his scar. Jason hooked his thumb into the wound on Jeff’s chest and started to pull. This only made him scream in pure bestial rage as he bites down on Jason’s mutilated shoulder to try to tear a chunk out of the bloody meat.

Jason shrilled in terror now seeing the monster he saw many years ago has come to reality. He throws his arm over Jeff’s head to prevent it from moving and causing more damage. Unable to shake him off and has a bad arm not able to grip the knife and his good arm holding him in place. Tears flow down his cheeks at a faster rate. He, as he was about to give up, his life flashed before his eyes. It was bizarre. How he watched memories pass by so so fast, but slow at the same time. Seeing all the past experiences shook him. How he fakes his death to his family, becoming a thing he hated and pushing Jane away. He gritted his teeth knowing that he was nothing but a failure made him grasp reality. He lets go of the knife that both he and Jeff were fighting over and grabs Jeff’s face and plunge his thumb into his eye.

Jeff spazzed out of the pain that he never felt before. He bit down harder hitting the bone in his opponent's shoulder. His screams muffled in sickening sharpish sounds. After a minute of bloody struggling, Jason’s good arm lost strength. This gave Jeff the chance to humpback like a cricket. He dropped the knife and held both his hands on to his bleeding eye socket, sitting in his blood that’s pooling around him. Jason took the opportunity to stagger to his feet. Both are now tarnished in each other's blood. He precedes to pick up the screw leg that was used on his walks to Jeff with his stimuli concealed to him. As Jason reaches Jeff he restricts the screw onto his good knee causing a sickening crack. Jeff screamed out from the new sudden pain and realized that Jason is looming over top of him. Jeff was about to lash grab the man not before has stuck in the face be the blunt weapon and knocked on to his back head first to the ground. Jason looked at the crimsoned coated construction scaffolding and tossed it to the side. He lost his balance for a moment and vision going blurry. Knowing he had lost too much blood and will die soon. He can’t help but smile that there will be two fewer killers in this world. He reached into his jacket one last time to pull out his final throwing knife. Jeff could only smile as well. A tear starts to flow down his one good eye.

“G-good job out there…… You did a number un me.” He coughed. Jason was not expecting a response like that he thought he was knocked out. Jeff continued to speak. “W-Whatever I did to you in the past. I want to let you know. I am sorry and hope you are glad he get your revenge.” Jeff doesn’t know why he’s being sympathetic to him. Maybe this is Jeffry Woods talking to him rather than Jeff the Killer.

Jason was lost for words. The demon that hunted him for years is speaking to him in the most somber way possible. He thought to himself for a moment. Resisting the urge to kill him outright. He smiled at the killer then finally said, “Thanks for being a part of my grand finally Mr. Woods. You were an amazing guest.”

Jeff only laughed, coughing up blood. “Thanks for having me. Been a wild ride.” Jeff responded with weak glee.

Jason aims the knife at Jeff’s head. As he was getting ready to strike a voice in his head echoed.

'I have seen enough. Miss Angle if you please.'

Jason tries to react, but like Puppeteer it was too late. A woman with a long sword comes jumping out of the shadows and shoulder checks Jason’s in the chest knocking him back. He tries to retaliate, but she was too fast. Parrying his knife then sidesteps with downward swing chops off Jason’s arm.

“No, NO, NOOOOO!” He screamed in a painful rage. He clicked his heels and kick into the side of the woman’s side. She hisses as the boot blade sank into her and came out. She gets into a stance with her sword at a 45-degree angle. Jason wobbles back, standing by willpower and stubbornness alone, but it was precarious at best. His vision is going in and out. Not sure how much longer he has left. He goes to take a step towards his opponent. She readies herself but drops her guard only to seeing Jason drops to the ground. Laying in his blood. Tears stream down his face.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” The world around him faded to black.

The woman walked to Jason’s body. “Now you will be judged,” She said readying her blade to impale him only to stop at a mental command.

'Not yet. We’re taking him back for questioning.' She looks at the tall man that dons a black suit and red tie and bears the face of a blank canvas. He holds Jeff’s broken body in his arms he turns to walk away not before an inky black cathedral protrudes from his back and snatches Jason’s severed arm from a pestle goth clothed woman.

'You are not eating that and are in a lot of trouble!' A voice yelled in her head.

She throws up her arms and yells in disbelief. “I wanted the chicken wing and what did I do!?”

12 notes · View notes

kindest-way-to-say · 3 years

Text

okay so. i’m just gonna rant. about some pain i’ve been experiencing for a while. like, we’re getting into it

if anyone would like to put in their two cents, feel free. im kinda just yelling about my problems into a void, but im definitely not gonna stop people who might know what this is from giving me advice.

idk. my brains shutting down a bit.

TDLR: my left arm has been in constant pain for three days. it’s probably nerves or something. i’m very addled rn. i hate the world i want to sleep for a millennia. i also have had similar, smaller pain issues over a course of 4 months. i hate it here. i would very much like this to not be a thing, please.

so this story starts the mid may. my last month of school. i’m suffering through just to end this bullshit. but i notice that p much every time i have to do some slightly more than normal walking, some random body part of mine will just be in this sort of dull pain.

and i just kinda go. huh. okay. ow. and brush it off. this continues. it’s pretty minor, (like barely a 1/10 on a scale) but enough for me to be mildly annoyed by it on occasion.

go to two weeks before my school lets out for summer.

i get appendicitis and have surgery for it. i’m fine. that situation went better than expected, i was just not the most comfortable.

appendicitis pain traditionally presents in the lower right quadrant of the abdomen. right next to a shit ton of nerves. and the pain i’m going through starts to affect my leg. can’t really walk without alarms going on.

it gets better. i’m not like. comfortable, but i’m just taking ibuprofen a few times a day and managing decently. 3.5/10 pain level average.

but then, as i start going out and living life as a teenager in the summer (hanging out with one person semi-regularly, and doing weird family lunches), i start to notice that most times i leave the house, i’ll come back home with some pretty decent pain in assorted parts of my body.

like my back will hurt, which i just blame on my shit posture. but then it’ll be a weird muscle connected to my ankle or some shit when i am very well known for hating any and all sports except for hockey. which i don’t play.

so i’m not doing things to pull muscles, but i’m feeling twinges of pain kind of a lot. which sucks.

but i brush it off, now consciously keeping an eye on it and taking ibuprofen when needed.

pain levels steadily rise over time, but it’s still at about a 4/10 for the most part. there’s the occasional spike to a 6, but that’s not frequent.

keep going on to mid-july. every time i leave the house, i’m feeling dull ache/twinges in multiple places and my knees feel really fucking off a lot of the time. almost like if your knees were crooked or something?? idk.

but it’s still 5.5 on the worst day. so i just kinda hesitantly mention this to my mom. who’s used to me complaining anyway, but i make it clear that it’s been going on for a while, and it feels like somethings wrong.

and she says “oh yeah we can think about seeing a doctor.”

and i just. okay! cool. fun. rad. sick. vague pain. that’s my favorite activity. i love everything about this.

but i just grit my teeth and bear it. still doing the ibuprofen thing when my ignore it and distract yourself strategy doesn’t work.

now, end of july. trucking along. i’m at least in mind discomfort pretty much all the time. sucks. hate it. i’m concerned.

go to the 31. i pull a crazy all-nighter because i have chemical imbalances in my brain and shit just happens. i stay up for like 44 hours. wild. i sit at my desk for a while, drawing and i notice “wow my left shoulder doesn’t feel that great. huh. i have been sitting here for a while.”

so i go do something else but it doesn’t feel fantastic. almost like a buzzing in parts of my back and my upper arm. on my left arm. i am right handed. don’t know what that’s about.

go to sleep sunday night, i wake up to it just being worse. (also i have some weird circulation problems because of genetics. just random shit. no pain whatsoever. just funky.)

like wtf that’s a 4 right as i’m waking up. what the actual fuck. don’t like that.

but i was raised catholic so none of us talk to each other. so i just joke about my body organizing a shitty coup d’état to a friend and chalk it up to a fucked up muscle. but it’s like kind of moving?? a bit?? weird as fuck. don’t like it. still dull pain, but certainly something that pops up into my conscious mind like 10 times a day.

i didn’t do anything would result in a pulled muscle (trust me. my school is really intense about theatre and show choir. hard core choreography in everything that i practice 3 times a week during school+whatever play/musical) so i’m really just making excuses to soothe my brain and i know it. full denial.

i took ibuprofen the first and second day. can still tell it’s happening, but it sucks less.

yesterday i play a shit ton of guitar, and i can feel my upper arm cramping up and shit (which. oW. 5.7/10. WHAT THE HELL.) even though there is no strain on my left arm except for pressing my fingertips into some strings. no shoulder shit going on.

so i try to stretch out. no help.

and then the adhd medication instead of sleeping medication debacle happens and i don’t go to bed even though i actively tried to multiple times. i write a poem instead.

hurts mildly the whole time. it starts kind of limiting the functions of my arm. which. what the actual fuck. stiff, a bit seized up in especially bad pain moments.

i get focused on writing a poem and shit i only 20 minutes to get ready to leave for my appointment.

i forgot to take any ibuprofen, and it was already reaching 5.85 levels from sitting in my room.

in the car and in the orthodontist office, my left arm is completely fucking useless to me. half of my brain at all times is focused on like “oW OW OW OW OW” because it’s reached a point where i can’t really ignore it. it’s just there now. moving it isn’t great, it sitting in place isn’t fun either.

i’m at 6.5 levels. from the round trip of like 20-ish minutes, it’s raised that much. a lot of internal dialogue about it.

on the way to the orthodontist, i’m talking to my mom about it. she, sounding kind of annoyed, asks “what, do you want to see a doctor?”. i say “honestly? yes. it’s been 3 days nonstop. steady rise. there’s something genuinely wrong. i’m concerned about it.”

it feels like someone is poking around inside my arm with electricity or some shit. whole arm. shifting localizations and slight fluctuation in pain level. rapid escalation even just today.

i explain what it feels like in less wordy terms. and she says “that’s sounds like it could be nerve-related.”

it’s been three days. i’m exhausted. this has already taken a pretty significant mental toll, let alone discomfort level.

i have a high pain tolerance. i only started actively complaining about appendicitis pain the night before it exploded. that shit festers longer than overnight. i had been i pain for half the week before i said shit. and i just kinda sucked it up until i felt like i couldn’t walk without needing hella support.

but it’s really fucking getting to me. shit ton of weird tension, buzzing. just. constant painful buzz moving around.

i express this. “it’s a non-stop pain bad enough to be something i am fully aware of at any given second. if i stare off, im probably thinking about my arm.” and she kinda dismisses it.

it’s been like an hour, and i’ve gone up to 6.8 levels multiple times. based on patterns, it’s not just gonna stop any time soon, and i’m really good at working around weird problems like this.

like i said. pain every time i go out.

i’m good at hiding when i’m not 100%, but this is beyond me. it’s like someone’s just stabbing me with tacs over and over again. on my entire left arm and on the rare occasion, part of my leg.

i’m so genuinely uncomfortable, and i would this to not be a thing anymore.

#long post #uh. help?#oW OW OW #ITS LIKE SOMEONE IS PLAYINH FUCKING OPERSTION ON ME #sorry this is so gigantic #rip my arm ig??#i’m already disabled my body doesn’t need to betray me like this #bitch tried to kill me once already and failed so it’s back and trying again and iT SO MUCH FUCKINB WORSE THAN THE FIRST TIME #HHHHH

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tisfan · 4 years

Text

Lucky Buck’s Magical Coffee

Chapter Two - Working for a Living

Fantasy Bingo: Square Magical Exhaustion

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743212/chapters/60835351

Jarvis flapped Tony’s coat at him as he was ready to leave. “I have insider information that the weather ifrit’s had a fight with his spouse. It may rain later today.” It didn’t look like rain according to the screens that Tony had open that showed the outside world. It looked sunny and peaceful and lovely. But Jarvis was seldom wrong about these things.

The spirit of technology was still relatively young, compared with his brothers and sisters -- spirits of air, earth, fire, water, and void -- having only started coming into being about the mid seventeenth century, or so.

Jarvis himself had been formed in 1835, fathered, one might say, by the invention of the Analytical Engine, in the workshop of Charles Babbage. For a spirit, he was practically a baby. To Tony, he was impossibly old and wise. But then, Tony was a technomage, and spirits of the “natural world” didn’t tend to speak with him.

“Right, so I’ll want an umbrella,” Tony said, digging through the closet for one, “and to bump personal force fields up on my to-do list. And not to suggest a walk in the park for my date. Or maybe I should; Bucky’s a Natural Witch, maybe he’d enjoy getting caught in the rain.”

Tony was on his way to Buck’s Lucky Coffee as soon as he found a functional umbrella, to meet up for their third date, as soon as Bucky turned the afternoon shift over to Clint. He was somewhat unreasonably giddy about it; three was an important number in both the physical and magical worlds, and so three dates seemed... significant, somehow.

He wondered if, after three dates, he could call Bucky his boyfriend, instead of “this guy I’ve gone out with a couple of times.” And why in Turing’s name did he have a pink umbrella with flouncy little ruffles all around its edges? They looked like they’d hold onto water and dump it on you at exactly the wrong moment.

The line wasn’t quite out the door, but only until Tony got there. The next person would, in fact, be out the door. Although that might have been because Bucky had an actual troll as a customer, and he both took up a lot of space and people didn’t want to stand near him. Tony was pretty sure all the nonsense about trolls was just racist bullshit. They did a really good job building bridges, so what, exactly, was everyone’s problem? There hadn't been an incident involving trolls and children in at least a century. (well, sensationalist magazines and abusive parents dragged that story out all the time.)

And even as Tony was putting that together, three more people got into line behind him. The date was not going to start on time, because there was no way Bucky was walking away and dumping a rush like this on Clint to handle alone.

Which was fine, it actually, absolutely was, because Tony was a little overloaded with work, himself, so he could get his coffee and go stake out a table in the corner and knock out a little work on his tablet while he waited. They both worked in customer service; it was a thing you planned around.

Tony squinted up at the ceiling and huffed over the patchiness of the shop’s wards. Bucky was going to have another imp in his espresso machine if the building super didn’t get some fresh protections up soon.

The line inched forward. The troll spoke actual trollish, which Tony didn’t understand. Neither, apparently, did Bucky, but Bucky gestured to Clint, who made a few gestures. SSL -- Supernatural Sign Language, which was left over from when trolls and witches and dwarves all worked together on some of the city projects, and had to learn to effectively communicate. These days, almost everyone spoke English, which seemed very human-centric, come to think of it. Maybe Tony could get some mileage out of a translation app.

“Get me a bucket,” Clint said. “He wants a venti-venti-venti.” Clint signed again, and the troll dropped a gold coin on the counter about the size of a jar lid.

A triple-venti was going to take a while to pull. Tony fished out his phone and started making notes. Translation app, personal force fields, the somewhat sticky problem of a cursed laptop that a college student had brought him that held the student’s only copy of their master’s thesis -- bad idea, that, always have multiple backups -- and thus couldn’t be de-cursed the quick and easy way, which had a tendency to leave a few memory sectors fragged.

The line kept growing behind Tony. But he’d finally gotten up to the second in line when the door pushed open and a tall, willowy woman came in with strawberry blond hair that was soaking wet and stuck to her face. “I don’t understand it,” she said. “It was sunny. The weather report said sunny all day--” She gasped a few times for breath -- if Tony had been running in those shoes, he’d have broken an ankle -- and gazed at the line in horror.

“Ifrit domestic trouble,” Tony volunteered. “Or so I heard.”

“You think I can send him my dry-cleaning bill?” She wrung out her hair and then took off her jacket, flapping water toward the door. Her shell top was sticking to her. “I’m soaking wet, I’m going to be late, I’ve been working the worst hours.”

“Hi Miss Potts,” Bucky yelled from the counter.

“Mr. Barnes,” she said. “Tell me you can save me.”

“I can save you.”

The troll collected his drink -- the repurposed ice-cream bucket still looked like an espresso cup in his huge hand -- and headed out into the weather. The door yawned and stretched around him to make room. That was a neat trick. Tony hadn’t seen it before; tech wizards said it was too hard, and so trolls and giants and some of the taller elven tribes complained about lack of access.

“Huh. I wonder when he had that installed,” Tony mused, eyeing the door, and then his attention snapped back to -- Miss Potts, apparently. “Does he save you on a regular basis? What’s your standard?”

“I’m probably only alive because of Mr. Barnes’ shop,” Miss Potts said. “Have you been here before? I love this place. I would live here, if they’d let me. Working for A Living. I think I might either die falling down the stairs in exhaustion, or actually push my boss down an elevator shaft without it.”

Tony let the two or three people between them skip ahead of him in the line -- he wasn’t going anywhere until the rush died down, anyway -- to make it easier to chat. “I only discovered it a couple of weeks ago,” Tony admitted. “Came in to exorcise the espresso machine -- it’s fine now, don’t worry -- and well, like you -- didn’t want to leave again.” He grinned. “Sounds like your boss needs to pause and have a cup, too. What do you do?”

“Personal Assistant,” Miss Potts said. “Pretty much whatever my boss says to do, all the way from taking notes at meetings to fetching his dry cleaning. Which wouldn’t be so bad, except they’re in the middle of a hostile takeover, and between angry dwarves and multiple on-site labor disputes, I’ve been putting in sixteen hours a day, six days a week, for almost a month.” She did look on the brink of falling over with exhaustion, her hands shaking.

“Yike,” Tony sympathized. “Is this his first hostile? I mean, someone with experience would have known to hire a temp for the duration or something.”

Up at the counter, Bucky was making two Money for Nothings, keeping up an easy patter with the customers about lottery tickets and checking their pockets.

“He seems to think that I’m the only one who can keep this company going,” she muttered. She pulled a magical compact out of her purse and opened it. The compact spouted a few uplifting and cheerful advertising-disguised-as-pep-talk phrases, and then-- “damn.” The purple smoke drifted out of the back and pooled around their feet. “It got wet. I am going to complain to the weather guild about this.”

“Nah,” Tony said. “I mean, go ahead and do that, sure, but here, let me see--” He plucked the compact out of her hand and peered into it. It wasn’t very sophisticated tech, but it only took a little for Tony to be able to manipulate it. A locking clasp, a tiny speaker and some wires connected to a button battery for amplification, and boom, tech.

Tony balanced the little thing on the palm of his hand and let energy flow into his witchmarks, making them glow a bright blue. There were some who said it looked spooky, but Tony had always found the light comforting. He coaxed little wisps of magic up into the compact and swept out the water, reversing some corrosion and a little bit of normal wear-and-tear, and reinstalling the sprite software that had drifted loose.

He popped the lid open again.

“Oh, honey, that shirt with that jacket, really? We’ve got some work to do.”

Tony rolled his eyes at it and handed it back to Miss Potts. “Here you go, good as new.” Well, it might be a little bit sassier than it had been before. Semi-autonomous sprite technology seemed to do that whenever Tony put his hands on it.

“How did you-- thank you,” Miss Potts said. “My name’s Pepper Potts, it’s nice to meet you.” She held out a hand for a professional shake, but when her fingertips touched Tony’s, he felt the brief surge of Empathic Magic. No wonder her boss wanted her on site all the time. Empaths could affect the moods and compliance of people around them with a simple touch.

“Tony Stark,” he said. He considered her briefly. “Want to quit your horrible job and come work for me?”

“Are you joking?”

The woman in front of Tony in line took so long deciding what pastry she wanted with her coffee, Tony was almost certain that her coffee was going to be cold by the time she actually took a sip.

“Here,” Bucky said. “I got yours already, doll. And Miss Potts, I’ll have your life affirming moment ready in just two minutes.”

Bucky put a mug, rather than a to-go cup on the counter in front of Tony. The heart in the steamed milk on top was glittering red and gold at him.

Tony shot Bucky a warm smile and a thanks, and stepped aside with his mug so Pepper wouldn’t have to reach past him when Bucky finished hers. He turned the mug until the point of the heart was pointing straight at his chest -- sympathetic magics always worked better if you gave them a bit of a push -- and then tipped the froth into his mouth. Like it had the previous times he’d had Bucky’s Lucky in Love brew, everything felt extra-warm for a moment, and a little bit sparkly, and behind the counter, Bucky seemed glow, just the tiniest bit.

“I wasn’t joking,” he told Pepper, when he’d finished savoring that first sip. “My dad died a couple of years ago and failed to leave the business to me free and clear, and last year, almost on the anniversary of his death, his old business partner split the company and walked off with about two-thirds of the staff for his branch. I’ve been scrambling to keep up and looking for good people.”

Obie had done a little more than simply splitting the company, but the sob story wasn’t something Tony liked to wave around. Maybe, if she took him up on it, he’d tell her about it sometime.

Bucky, perhaps feeling something going on -- he seemed to have that sense -- put Pepper’s drink in a tall glass, complete with a bamboo recycled straw instead of in the to-go cup. “On the house,” he added, pushing an actual brownie-crafted brownie on a plate at her. “With a little extra daydreams.”

“I would live here,” Pepper repeated, taking a sip of the drink. “So, job. Details. Would you like to do an interview, I could do an interview. Right here. I even have my resume up to date.”

Tony glanced at the line behind the ordering counter, then shrugged. He wasn’t going anywhere soon. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s do that.” He pointed at a table.

It took barely a minute of scanning Pepper’s resume to know that she was vastly overqualified, and probably not getting paid anything like she was worth. She’d successfully negotiated a dozen contracts, as a personal assistant.

A little nudging and she didn’t quite admit to being sexually harassed by her boss, but Tony could sense that maybe that had happened, too.

When Bucky finally came out from behind the counter, leaving Clint to finish out his shift, Pepper was smiling, cheerful, and enthusiastic, and it probably wasn’t all entirely due to Bucky’s coffee.

“Hey, snowflake!” Tony greeted him cheerfully. “I’m going to steal Pepper from her obnoxious boss. I’d offer to pay her what she’s worth, but frankly, I’m not sure I can afford that, so I’ll have to settle for merely doubling her current salary.”

Bucky tapped the plate in front of her, where she’d eaten the entire brownie except for a few crumbs. “Opportunity Knocks brownie. Glad you enjoyed it.” He gave Pepper a wink. “But now, I am going to steal my boyfriend from you, since we have a date as soon as I’m off shift.”

Tony pulled just a little magic out of his phone and flipped it at Pepper’s. “That’s my number,” he told her. “I’ll call tomorrow, and we’re going to do this. Start writing your resignation letter. Hire some clowns to see you out. Or strippers. Stripper clowns?”

Bucky rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I know a clown dominatrix,” he volunteered. “She could always use extra work.”

“Perfect,” Tony declared. “Talk to you tomorrow, Pep!” He tucked his arm through Bucky’s and turned them toward the door.

Guess he could start calling Bucky his boyfriend, now. That was easier than he’d thought.

On the way through the door, Bucky offered his hand to the doorframe, cupping what looked like a thimbleful of honey and a tiny piece of bread. “Wood fairies,” he said. “She deserved a bonus after that trick with our Troll earlier.” He glanced up at the sky, which was still pouring rain, and the occasional spates of hail, in anger. “I don’t know if you had anything in mind, specifically, but there’s a traveling mystical petting zoo in the park. They probably have wind sprites to keep the weather off. I always wanted to see a unicorn up close.”

“I’m more of a wyvern man, myself,” Tony said, feeling the happy buzz of Bucky’s potion fizzing through him at Bucky’s closeness. “Yeah, let’s go to the zoo.” He held up the pink umbrella. “I can even keep us dry on the way, if you don’t mind walking close.”

#Fantasy Bingo #Winteriron #magical coffee shop AU

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yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years

Text

A Different Sort of Rage

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.“ – Anne Carson

Toby grieves Claire. He also helps to save the world, again.

You know, at least once while writing this, I asked myself why I’d even bother. Claire doesn’t affect 3Below Season 2 at all, so why would that change because she’s dead? Well, Toby deserved better.

That’s right, almost a year later, the 3Below Interlude to Juliet Dies in This has been completed! That being said, you don’t need to have read Juliet Dies in This to understand this story; you just need to know it’s an au where Claire didn’t make it out of the Shadow Realm during the Eternal Night.

If you did read Juliet Dies in This, then this takes place between chapters 3 and 4.

Trigger/spoiler warning: there is drowning, mild body horror, and talk of suicide in this fic.

AO3

FFN

Toby clung to a set of wooden planks with one arm; the other was wrapped around Jim’s unconscious body. Saltwater slammed against his lower body, cold and angry. On the other side of the planks was Claire and a heavy anchor connected to a length of chain. With each moment that passed, the planks splintered just a bit more. Too much longer, and there wouldn’t be enough wood to hold on to.

“Can you keep the planks steady for me?” Claire asked. “Then I can shove the anchor into the ocean, and we won’t have to worry about it.”

“Be careful,” Toby said, adjusting his grip on the planks and Jim. Claire hoisted her entire body onto the planks. With a grunt she lifted the anchor and began to scoot it to the ocean.

She was about to drop it when the chain glowed gold and wrapped around her.

Toby didn’t let go of Jim, who would surely drown with no one holding onto him.

Toby didn’t let go of the planks, because he wasn’t a strong swimmer even without a friend to hold on to.

Toby didn’t grab Claire. Instead, he watched in horror as she fell into the cold ocean, her hair indistinguishable with the blackness that she was pulled into.

And then Toby woke up. It had been a while since he last had nightmares about drowning and sinking boats. He had had one or two back when Jim had been in the Darklands. Most of this species of nightmare had occurred before he started puberty but had been old enough to really understand just what had happened to his parents.

“Wingman okay?” AAARRGGHH!!! asked.

“Yeah,” Toby said. “It was just a dream.” He glanced at his clock. 12:51 am. He loved having a semi-normal sleep schedule again, but with most of his friends being nocturnal phone calls weren’t always easy. Oh, well. He was awake anyways; may as well call Jim and Claire.

Wait.

Claire didn’t go to Jim and Blinky to find a Heartstone in New Jersey. Claire had disappeared into a black void and Toby had been the one to lock her in.

So that was why he had that dream.

Toby put a reminder on his phone to look into what mental health options his nana’s health insurance had and then went back to sleep. Or at least, he tried to.

Sunshine streamed through the stained-glass windows of the Catholic church that Claire’s funeral was held in, which meant that even if trolls were allowed to go, they couldn’t have. Claire had family outside Arcadia, and to them she had died because she got trapped under rubble in the freak earthquake-and-tornado that had occurred. To them, Claire was inside the coffin, though badly mutilated by rocks that had slammed into her.

Her body was probably mutilated by Morgana, come to think of it.

Toby tugged at his tie. This felt so stupid. Claire was a hero, and her extended family wasn’t allowed to know. He understood, though. They didn’t want to get anyone from the government involved, at least, the non-local government, since obviously Claire’s mom and thus the rest of the city council involved. The trolls were weakened, and Toby didn’t know if they were bulletproof.

It was probably for the best that trolls weren’t allowed to attend the funeral, but that didn’t mean that Toby wasn’t angry with the situation. AAARRRGGGHHH!!! had been Claire’s friend, too. He should be here. Besides, he hadn’t been the one responsible for this mess.

The unsettling calm in the week-and-a-half since the Eternal Night had given Toby a lot to think about. Specifically, how everything had gone wrong.

He should have smacked Morgana into the Shadow Realm with his warhammer and then destroyed the staff. He should’ve been smarter. He had been fighting alongside Claire for months; surely, they could’ve come up with something so that she would be either in Arcadia or on the road to New Jersey.

There was one thing about this funeral that wasn’t a farce: Claire was dead. Toby didn’t think Morgana would be interested in keeping Claire alive. After Merlin cleared away the Eternal Night, Jim had proposed going to Trollmarket to see if there was anything in Blinky’s library to see if it could help them save Claire. Blinky had told them that he had had one book on constructing magic items, but it was among the first of Dictatious’s books he had burned. Strickler, for all the dark magical knowledge he had from the Book of Ga-Huel, had nothing on making a new Shadow Staff. Probably to keep the changelings from rebelling against their Lady Creator, the former history teacher had mused.

To Toby’s right, Darci and Mary and their families stood for a prayer. Toby’s eyes traveled upwards to the rafters. One troll, or rather, changeling, had made it despite the odds. NotEnrique would probably deny the fact that he had been crying later.

“Dude, you sent me a thousand texts, what is your data plan?” Toby asked as he crawled through Eli’s window. It was easier than he had expected, despite his gym pass not feeling as intense of a work-out as fighting trolls and sparring Jim and – sparring in the forge. That was, that was pretty good, actually, he wouldn’t be the reason for anyone else getting hurt or worse if he tried to keep getting stronger.

“Some of them might’ve been queued up,” Eli said, shrugging as he held up a flashlight under his chin. “I… this is important, but I thought I could’ve gathered more evidence and, well…” Eli frowned and dropped the self-important tone. “I wanted to give you some time, since the funeral was a couple days ago.”

The light returned to Eli’s eyes, or maybe it was just the flashlight glinting off his glasses. His voice once more took on an air of self-importance. “Now, Tobes, are you ready for me to rock. Your. World?”

Toby glanced over at his girlfriend and Mary, who was complaining about boredom. Toby’s hands curled into fists. They had been friends with Claire for longer than he had been, how could they be so, so normal?

“TP, come here! I wanna talk to you about something!” Steve called from where he was leaning against Aja and Krel’s house.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I mean, it means vaguely the same thing as buttsnack but nicer?” Steve said as Toby made his way over to the house.

Toby rolled his eyes. Well, at least one person realized why he hadn’t wanted that nickname. If only Claire had realized that, before she, before she, before she had spread it around the school.

Toby blinked several times, trying to get the stinging sensation out of his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Dude, relax,” Steve said quietly enough as to not let Mary and Darci hear from their spot by the pool.

“Relax? Relax?” he whisper-shouted. “How am I supposed to relax when we’re in the middle of a war that will decide the fate of not only Earth, like the one with Gunmar and Morgana, but also Aja and Krel’s planet too? I relax, people die. If I’m not alert, someone else has to take the hit for me. If I don’t pay enough attention, then I’m the one responsible for trapping someone in an alternate dimension!”

Steve just looked at Toby for what felt like five insufferably long minutes.

“Stop freaking out,” Steve said, pinching his brow. “Or else you’ll be so high strung that you’ll end up swinging your oversized mallet at the wrong thing.”

“Warhammer,” Toby corrected, even though Steve did have a point.

Toby’s therapist said that it was important to have hobbies. Between trollhunting and school, Toby was used to having to be constantly alert and vigilant, and that may have been helping to contribute to his restless mind. Granted, Toby hadn’t told his therapist about the ruthless Akiridion dictator trying to attack Earth because that probably fell into the “I will alert the authorities if you’re going to harm yourself or others” clause in the doctor-patient confidentiality forms he and his nana had signed. However, filmmaking was both a good way to bond with his friends as well as maybe destress.

Pretending that he was only interested in making a short film made him seem vapid, like less of a threat. He didn’t trust these military goons, but he also knew they probably underestimated him. What could a short, fat kid with a warhammer possibly do to them?

Rule One of Trollhunting was to always be afraid, with the caveat of goblins. If Area 49-B was unafraid of Toby, then they’d underestimate him.

Besides, these people wanted to capture all sorts of extraterrestrials. Who knew what they’d do to trolls?

Toby still didn’t know if trolls were bulletproof or not. He got the feeling they wouldn’t be laser-proof.

Angor Rot hadn’t been laser-proof, if that’s what Morgana’s magic had been.

Angor had been their enemy, but he had saved them, too.

Tronos had been their enemy, but he had just saved the entire world.

“Get in my phone!” Toby yelled at the armored extraterrestrial as the Area 49-B goons approached, clearly interested in his warhammer. It reminded him a little of the robbers who had kidnapped them.

“What?”

“You did it before! I’m not letting anyone else die.”

Toby and Tronos barely escaped with the others.

“Okay, so, just so that we're clear, by ‘Earthly forces’, you mean me, Eli, Steve…” Toby said, covering his mouth to hide the sound from Darci. He didn’t want to worry her.

“And the brute,” Zadra said. “Yes.”

“Technically, AAARRRGGHH!!!’s a troll.”

“I'm not confident about your chances, but these are desperate times.”

“Well, not even the word ‘hopeless’ is void of hope, I guess,” Toby said.

“What?”

“Trollish saying. I, we’ll do our best.” The call ended; Toby turned to his girlfriend. “Hey, babe, you seem like you got this stapling thing down pat.”

Darci crossed her arms, suspicion in her eyes. “Toby, what’s going on?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“Then start talking.”

Toby looked away from his girlfriend.

“Is it more troll stuff?” she asked.

“No…”

“Then what’s. Going. On?” Darci grabbed his hand. “Toby, I’ve been to enough funerals this year. I don’t want to go to any more of them, and I really don’t want to have to go to another funeral angry that the person I cared about lied to me about the supernatural battles they were fighting. Not when I could’ve maybe helped.”

Toby sighed. “Okay, to make a long story short, there is life on other planets, including a planet called Akiridion-V. That’s Aja and Krel’s home, but it was taken over.” Toby tugged his hand away from Darci’s, giving her an apologetic look. He grabbed his warhammer and expanded it. “And the guy who took it over is going to attack their house so I really gotta go make sure they’re safe so bye I promise I’ll tell you more later!”

Between all the other problems of his life, having a creative outlet was a great way to destress. Usually. Theoretically. Considering that Chompsky broke character on every take, this was really just another source of stress.

His film wasn’t as important as the Akiridions in orange pods.

“Are those your parents?” he asked Aja and Krel. “Do you want me to help?”

“No, we’ve got it!” Krel shouted, waving him off as he, Aja, Varvatos, and Stuart set up the daxial array.

“What are you doing?” Aja asked.

“Well, while I was holding down the fort, I thought I’d finish my director’s cut.” Toby scowled. “But then Chompsky started acting out.”

There was chattering that only one who had lived with a gnome for months would understand. He was almost surprised that Bagdwella never learned how.

“No, I can’t make you taller in post!” Toby had a realization as he walked away from the gnome. “Wait, does this mean you’re going home soon? Back to Akiridion-V?”

“Of course,” Krel said with a glance towards his parents. “That was always the plan.”

Right. The plan. Aja and Krel were going to leave him. They had more important things to do than live a life in Arcadia Oaks. They were royalty from another planet.

“But wait, not yet!” Toby protested. He wanted more time with his new friends, and maybe he had just the thing to get them to stay. “I’ve got good news! Captain Kleb is going to premiere before Gun Robot 7 at the local drive-in!”

“That’s amazing,” Krel said, sounding surprised. He gave an almost incredulous chuckle. “All our friends are going to be there!”

Not all of Toby’s friends, but a good portion of them.

“Yeah,” Toby said, less enthusiastic than he was a moment before. “We’ll be local celebrities.”

Maybe they city would dedicate a nice park bench to him, for all his combined work as a filmmaker, trollhunter, and crook-catcher. He didn’t deserve an entire street, even though Domzalski Drive had a nice ring to it. Besides, Jim Lake Lane and Claire Court sounded better, more fitting.

“Your moving picture party will be the perfect way to celebrate after we stop Morando,” Aja said, breaking Toby out of the beginnings of yet another depressive spiral.

Toby turned to Aja, Krel, AAARRRGGHH!!!, and Varvatos. Sure, the crystal staircase didn’t light up with each step, but they were about to see the most incredible place ever! It deserved every bit of gravitas that he, Jim, and Claire had been given. “Welcome,” he said in his best impression of Jim and Blinky, “to Heartstone Trollmarket!”

Toby gasped.

“This is ‘the most incredible place ever?’” Krel said.

“Was,” Toby sighed, “before the Eternal Night.”

It was probably a good thing, that Blinky and Jim went to New Jersey so they wouldn’t have to see it. That Claire, Draal, and Vendel would never have to see it. The darkened, broken heartstone and the rubble-strewn streets were horrible to see; this was a place that Toby had considered to be practically a second home. He could only imagine just how terrible his Wingman must have felt at the sight of it.

“I know what it’s like, to lose one’s home,” Aja said as they passed by Bagdwella’s old shop. She was better at comforting AAARRGGHH!!! than Toby himself was. Probably Krel and Varvatos, too. They had left behind their homeplanet, and their house was gone, too.

“Your friends, Jim, Blinky, and the trolls are safe, and that’s what matters the most,” Krel said. Toby was about to thank him for the reassurance – he had gotten good at dealing with human feelings – when rocks collapsed.

Varvatos was right. There was definitely an aura of death and decay. Stupid Morgana, ruining everything.

“That looks… deep.” Varvatos said.

“How do we get down there?” Aja asked.

“We don’t!” Toby said. Memories of watching Jim’s cage fall filled his mind. “If you go down there then you face your deepest fear!”

“Why would anyone want to do that?” Krel asked. The light from the Soothscryer came back up again insistently.

“It’s a long story,” Toby said as the light spiraled downwards once more. “Jim made it out alive, and unfortunately, he’s the only one who has.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Aja said. “We have to find Gaylen’s core before Morando.”

Krel held two of his arms in front of his sister. “I’ll go!”

“No, if we have to fight then it’s better to have safety in numbers. We’re stronger together,” Toby said.

“But you and Varvatos need to fight whatever’s coming,” Krel said as Aja pulled out her hoverboard.

“We will,” AAARRRGGHH!!! said. He raised his voice to a slightly higher pitch. “So, fight!” he imitated, before lowering his voice. “Make proud, Wingman.”

“Will do.” Toby pulled out his warhammer and followed the Tarron siblings down into the Deep.

Unfortunately, Toby followed them straight into a stony wall.

Toby stood on a dock, watching a cruise ship sail away. His nana waved good-bye to him, along with two relatively young adults. They were familiar, just like the ship was. They were familiar from blurry memories and from morbid curiosity because at age twelve, Toby wanted to know just how his parents died.

“Don’t go,” Toby pleaded softly, but he knew it was no use. He looked over his shoulder and caught Jim’s eyes.

“Well, bye, then,” Jim said flippantly. He began to walk away, and Toby realized that so did all the other trolls. Darci, and Dr. Lake, and pretty much everyone Toby knew walked with them.

Toby tried to catch up, but each step was a herculean effort. Eventually, everyone passed beyond the horizon. It started to rain, and Toby realized that he had managed to find his way to the bridge where everything always went down.

A dark sliver appeared in the thin air in front of him. It widened, and Claire stepped out of it. Except “stepped” wasn’t quite the write word, not with how her limbs and neck bent at all the wrong angles. Golden manacles with small lengths of broken-off chains were attached to her wrists and ankles. A noose connected her neck to the Shadow Realm, and when the portal closed Claire collapsed, almost like a puppet whose strings were cut. She caught herself at the last second, dust swirling off the bridge to reform the Shadow Staff in her hand. She stretched each of her limbs as they popped into place with the sound of crunching bones and scraping metal. She then rolled her neck, the noose catching on one of the spikes of her helmet. It didn’t seem to bother her, but it added a gruesome effect.

Claire’s brown eyes opened, going from blank to full of hatred in the span of an instant. “You,” she said. Her voice echoed above the sound of rain and distant thunder. “You let me die!”

She lunged for him, and Toby found that the sluggishness to his limbs was gone as he jumped out of the way.

“You killed me!” she screamed, disappearing through a portal. She came out from almost directly above him, staff pointed to skewer him.

Toby caught it with his warhammer, sending it away from himself. “You, you told me to. You told me to break the staff,” Toby said.

Claire attempted to stab him in the back. “And you didn’t think to wait, did you? You didn’t think that maybe you should have waited for Blinky to have saved me?”

“There was no time, and you know this.” Toby knocked the Shadow Staff out of her hands. It crumbled into ash. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t think of any other way to end Morgana. It’s… it’s not my fault that you’re dead!”

The rain stopped, and the clouds started to part. As Claire looked up to the sky, Toby realized that he was crying.

The sun was eclipsed by the moon and then by even darker clouds. Claire closed her eyes as it began to rain again, this time even harder than before.

“You want to know what’s the best part of being dead?” she asked in an eerily soft voice.

She opened her eyes. They were purple and black. “I don’t have to look at your stupid fucking face anymore.”

Claire lunged for him, knocking his warhammer out of his hands. She pinned him down with one hand. “No one wants to have to look at it. And I’m going to be the fucking martyr that makes sure no one will ever have to again.”

And then she began to punch his face, the edges of her clawed armor piercing him. With each punch more cracks began to grow on her face and hand, but Claire didn’t seem to notice them. She didn’t look like she was in pain like the last time she had grown those cracks. If anything, the lightning glinting in her eyes made her look sadistic.

And then Toby woke up.

“I did it,” Krel said, overjoyed. “I did it!”

“I’m proud of you, little brother,” Aja said, rubbing at her arms. She sounded spooked. “Congratulations, you probably beat me by half a mecron. What… what did you see?”

“Morando destroying Arcadia Oaks and everyone in it, which he’ll do if he gets Gaylen’s core,” Krel said with a slight frown. “And you?”

“The same, but with Akiridion-V,” Aja said. The two of them turned to Toby.

They were going to have to leave anyways; they didn’t need to know that Toby’s worst fear was a combination of Claire hating him in her dying moments and everyone he cared about leaving him.

“Oh, well…” Toby gave a slight chuckle, and hoped that they’d believe the fat stigma. “Dieting.”

They had no time to question his lie because Varvatos and AAARRRGGHH!!! came crashing in.

“Purple. Pretty,” AAARRRGGHH!!! said, gazing at the altar to Gaylen’s core.

“Claire would have loved to have seen this,” Toby sighed, and then startled with a realization. “Kanjigar, do you know if Draal and Claire are, you know, resting in peace?”

Unfortunately, the previous Trollhunter had gone back to the void.

Toby supposed it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, not with Aja and Krel being shot down. Still, closure that his friends were okay in the end would have been nice.

“Where’s Krel and Varvatos?” Toby asked as he dismantled yet another OMEN. “Would be nice to get a little more help.”

“Krel’s working on getting us some reinforcements,” Aja said, “and Varvatos is protecting my parents and Stuart. I trust him enough to not try to power the canon with my parents’ cores twice.”

“Wait, why would he do that? He’s not evil enough to power things up using unwilling people!”

“I thought that too, but since two royal cores are needed it’ll be Krel and I and not my parents.”

“No.” Toby brought his warhammer down enough that deep cracks were left in the concrete where the OMEN once stood. “Aja, you can’t. That’s suicide.”

“It’s not suicide, Toby. It’s sacrifice. Of all people, I thought you understood that.”

“Oh, trust me. I understand that. I also understand that those two look really similar sometimes. Aja, promise me that I won’t have to attend any more of my friend’s funerals this summer.”

“I can’t, but that’s why Krel’s working on reinforcements. I don’t want to do this, but I will if that’s what it takes.”

Toby would have argued had an OMEN not thrown a truck at a random kid. There had to be another way, one that wasn’t trying to fight a losing battle. One where all his friends made it out.

“He’s too strong,” Toby said. “He’s stronger than…”

No.

Morando was not stronger than Morgana. He couldn’t let himself believe that. They were all going to live, and no one was going to sacrifice their life for the good of everyone else, even if they were on the very same bridge where Angor and Claire died.

And Toby had legitimate hope when Zadra and various ships from Akiridion-V came through the wormhole.

Except they weren’t enough. Morando grew red wing-like appendages and created a massive explosion of red light.

“Morando is too powerful,” Krel said.

As the Tarron siblings hugged each other for what shouldn’t be the last time, Toby tried to think of another way to kill Morando.

“Go back to town,” Aja said. “Make sure everyone’s safe! And… I’m sorry, Toby. There’s a reason why I didn’t promise.”

“On it!” Steve said. “Please don’t get stepped on!”

“You too, my Palchuk!” Toby couldn’t tell if it was cruel or not for Aja not to say goodbye.

There had to be a third option.

“What are you waiting for, give me a ride!” Steve shouted. Toby fired up his warhammer.

Morando was at least as strong as Morgana. Maybe he was stronger. Two people would die. Someone’s hand would get cut off by a –

There was another way.

Toby set Steve down and began to fly off in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going, buttsnack?” Steve shouted.

“To save your girlfriend’s life!” Toby began searching through his phone to find the number for Akiridion-V. They could try to open a portal from within Morando’s body, and hopefully Akiridion anatomy was such that it would kill him.

It was probably a good idea that Toby had used his warhammer instead of the Shadow Staff. Too gruesome.

He was on the second ring when he watched Aja and Krel fire the canon.

He felt relief, and then guilt.

It was over.

Toby didn’t know what to say. Aja, Krel, and everyone else from Akiridion-V were leaving. So were the Foo-Foos and Eli.

“Do you have to leave?” It was selfish. Of course they had to leave. Toby closed his eyes and tried to drown out Deep-illusion-Claire’s words. They weren’t leaving because of him; Aja and Krel had to go and rule an entire planet.

“Thanks for keeping that promise about me not going to your funeral”? Too selfish. It put the focus too much on him.

“Being an orphan isn’t so bad, just look how I turned out”? Too insensitive, considering that he could barely remember his parents.

“Sorry about your parents, but I’m glad they’re dead instead of you”? That wouldn’t stop the guilt.

Except, Krel was staying.

Toby would figure out something comforting to say, eventually.

The world was going to end. Again. And this time, Toby’s new allies were a talking, bipedal cat and a pair of teenagers who were currently going through their emo phase. Said emo teens were about a year older than Toby, and supposedly they were wizards, but honestly? Aja and Krel seemed more competent than these two.

At the very least, Aja and Krel were better at lying. The minute after the cat had called them out on “experimenting unsupervised”, Zoe had started rambling about college apps, which had segwayed into summer homework, which somehow turned into how she and Douxie could make non-exploding potions without Archie’s supervision.

It was a little creepy, just how exasperated the cat looked.

Douxie stared at Toby quizzically before interrupting his friend’s rambling. “Your friend – the possessed one. Is she okay?”

A cold sort of rage crept into Toby’s bones, and with it, came the desire to scream at Douxie for having noticed that Claire wasn’t okay, and not having really done anything. Storm out of the apartment, telling Steve to tell Toby anything important, but refuse to work with the wizards.

But Claire made her decision. There was nothing that Toby could’ve done to change that, much less a guy who went to their rival school.

So instead of yelling, Toby took a breath, and said coldly, “Let’s just say that Claire’s at peace now.”

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flyingambulist · 4 years

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hiatus:

I don’t think I super have to announce it, since I’ve been quiet for the first time in... 7? years?

But the state of RP dash & everyone else’s steady decline has made me less and less likely to comment or reload the feed that much anymore. So I guess in the state of fairness I’m gonna declare a semi-hiatus! I still have the dash up at all times and hit reload frequently, I see any asks that come in and any messages, but there’s basically no drive or fun to keep it going.

“Show must go on” but when your show has dropped below the desired views it’s time to slam it into Cancel, yknow?

I still love the character and the relationships built up over the years, but when you’re just yelling into the void and tumblr makes it more and more difficult every update to maintain contact, it’s time to take a step back and reevaluate.

I’ll be here if you really need James! But for a bit, I’m gonna tug the curtains closed.

#ooc

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poisonepel · 5 years

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Chemistry Between the Dorm Leaders and a Hero-Inspired S/O— (pt.1)

After that Snow White request, I had a small idea... so here are headcanons for each dorm leader with an s/o inspired by the heroes of their respective films. I had some hesitation with both Vil and Leona, since their heroes are the Evil Queen’s stepdaughter and Scar’s nephew respectively... I could get past the Snow White one bc Vil’s so different from the Evil Queen, but the Simba one weirded me out too much ;; so I substituted him for Nala. Sorry !!

Of course, this is disregarding the original characters’ ages and assuming they’re all students at Night Raven, in the same dorm as their villain. Please let me know if there’s a problem with anything though !!

Idia, Leona, and Malleus will come in a second post.

Riddle & Alice

I remember Alice as a bratty, opinionated girl who is dissatisfied with her normal life and prefers to escape to her imagination. Very stubborn, but also very sensible. Pairing these traits with Riddle’s hotheadedness and severe need to keep things under his command, I don’t think they would make a very good match. Alice constantly rolls her eyes at all of his decisions, and blatantly refuses to listen to him if she doesn’t agree with what he says.

It would be extremely difficult for these two to even tolerate each other. Alice sticks out to Riddle because she’s the only one who doesn’t fear him—but that might not be a good thing. He develops a “You will fear me, you will obey me” type mindset, to which she responds with an unimpressed, “Oh, really?”

Riddle gets so fed up with her that he marches down to Headmaster Crowley and demands that Alice be relocated to a different dorm—“She’d be great for Pomefiore, with all the other stuck-ups.” (Dire says no).

As much as she loathes Riddle though, Alice might enjoy some of his nonsensical rules. She hates boring things like order and routine, instead craving the thrill of things unique and unpredictable. Riddle is taken aback when one day she exclaims how much fun she’s having during one of his sudden events, which had annoyed and tired out everyone else. He’s not sure how to react.

He spends a long time thinking about this, and then curiosity gets the better of him; he tries to experiment to see if he can do anything else that doesn’t make her turn her nose up at him. So basically, this is his odd way of figuring out her interests - and he realizes she’s not just automatically appalled by everything he does; she’s simply very opinionated. He might even start to appreciate the fact that she’s got such a strong grip of her views and morals.

It takes much longer for Alice to fall in love with Riddle, though. She has such a great distaste for him that there’s no way she’ll even consider falling in love with him. She would have to catch him in a vulnerable state to realize there’s more to him than simply yelling at everyone all the time - maybe when he’s stressed from school, or sleeping, or witnessing him experiencing true happiness (perhaps with his friends? does he even have friends?) And then she, too, having a natural curiosity, might try to learn more about him.

Tbh, the only thing that might help bring them together is the fact that both of them are way too nosy for their own good.

Azul & Ariel

Like Alice, Ariel is very curious, stubborn, and determined, but she can be a little gullible and naive at times. She’s been sheltered her whole life and Night Raven is the first time she’s been away from home for so long. Azul, on the other hand, is very independent; he’s somewhat of an information broker, good at observing people and seeing what makes them tick - and also swindling what he wants out of them. Naive little Ariel makes a perfect target.

Azul is very gentlemanly and polite, enticing and friendly, so Ariel is immediately swayed. She pretty much falls into the honeymoon phase with him straight away, but not truly in love; she’s just excited to be socializing with a nice boy.

It’s easy for Azul to trap her in a deceptive contract with ambiguous conditions. He doesn’t have any personal interest in her initially, but Ariel responds to his betrayal with vigor and goes above and beyond in trying to void the contract. It is only here that Azul starts taking more of an interest in her, since she’s now causing problems for him and therefore in the way.

But, even he has to appreciate her fierce determination to get out of this contract. He even stops at one point to consider why he’s been trying so hard to prevent her from getting out of it; Ariel is nothing but sweet and pure, so why is he so intent on inconveniencing her? He tries to convince himself that his original mindset is the same as it was before: Ariel was unable to pay the price he had set. Perhaps under misleading terms, but it’s her fault for not reading the contract carefully enough - therefore he can’t give her any leeway until he’s collected his payment. Even so, a part of him feels regretful.

However, Ariel has developed a (rightfully) bitter attitude towards Azul, and even though he understands why, it still leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Witnessing how beautiful of a personality she has has made him rethink his whole view of her - and a part of him wishes they were on better terms.

If Azul was serious about remedying their relationship, it would take a serious amount of effort on his part to regain her trust. Ariel can be naive, but she’s not stupid; and she’s already established that Azul is not an ally. But, in the case that he is able to prove himself to her, then the same elation she had when she first met him would resurface.

For their relationship to work, Azul would need to be the one who’s most committed. He already has a personality Ariel would immediately grow infatuated with, so it really depends on him being able to truly become someone she can trust and rely on - and make sure she knows that too.

Kalim & Aladdin

These two are hopeless idiots together. They come from vastly different backgrounds: while Kalim grew up with basically everything handed to him on a silver platter, Aladdin comes from a poor family and barely scraped by in his youth. They share a common resourcefulness, though, as they both are very talented at making do with whatever situation they’ve landed in (but, Kalim always has the advantage of wealth and power).

While Aladdin might be initially turned off by Kalim’s extravagant wastefulness, he also admires it greatly; much like his canon love for Jasmine, he is struck by beauty and wealth and only dreams about what it might be like to live with such greatness. This overpowers his slight aversion for him.

It’s easy for Kalim and Aladdin to become friends. Aladdin is funny and bright, with a knack for socializing since he’s come across so many people from being in such open, unstable living conditions before. Overall, he’s just very easy to slide into conversation with and feel like you’ve known him forever. Kalim is also very extroverted, but in more of a you-will-pay-attention-to-me-now forceful kind of way. Like Jamil, Aladdin is one of the few people who doesn’t tire out from Kalim’s constant energy & semi-sheltered mindset.

Once they find out their shared extroversion is very compatible, Kamil and Aladdin talk nonstop. Aladdin is a natural storyteller, and loves sharing about all his experiences from his childhood. He had to be very independent and willing to defy authorities in order to secure his survival, while also helping all the other orphans and street rats obtain food and shelter as much as he could. Kalim finds this extremely admirable. To him, Aladdin is almost like a literal prince - he rose from nothing and now is thriving at the prestigious Night Raven College. Also, he seems to have turned out fairly normal for someone who suffered so many hardships as a child.

But evidently, the closer the get, the more Kalim realizes Aladdin is not as normal as he makes himself out to be. His traumas from his youth have and are still affecting him, and once Kalim sees this different, more somber side of Aladdin, he becomes desperate to help him any way he can. He first takes him on a “date.” This isn’t meant to be romantic, just a nice all-expenses-paid trip to give Aladdin something nice.

Jamil is surprised because this is the first time Kalim has ever thought about anyone other than himself. But then, once the “dates” keep happening, Jamil realizes there’s more between them than just Kalim “being nice.” Things might escalate between them both, and while the final trigger for Aladdin was Kalim’s little acts of kindness, there had been something clear between them since the beginning.

Vil & Snow White

This sort of piggybacks off the headcanons I wrote here.

Snow White is sweet and pure of heart, a girl who doesn’t fully realize when someone might be taking advantage of her. She is gentle and sweet when she talks to you, but also doesn’t mind keeping to herself for long periods of time. On the other hand, Vil is vain and proud, constantly needs attention, and keeps his own appearance as his top priority. He always makes sure his connections are up to his own beauty standards too, and if Snow White enters his social circle, this includes her. Fortunately, there’s not much for him to do, because she is already extremely beautiful.

Vil takes interest in her because of her beauty. He feels a bit threatened by it in the beginning, but every time he talks to her, she always, always acts like the nicest, most genuine human being he’d ever met. He gets a little frustrated because he wants to hate her for being so much more beautiful than him, but she’s so ridiculously precious.

Snow White doesn’t mind Vil much. Like with everyone, it’s basically impossible for her to view him in a bad light, and she respects him as Pomefiore’s dorm leader. That being said, he’s not a major interest for her - she has a very tight-knit circle of 3 or 4 girl friends who she spends most of her time with.

Their interactions are usually initiated by Vil. Half the time, it’s because he can’t understand how she’s so nice all the time, so he tries to draw out a negative reaction from her.

But with enough time spent together, the opposite effect happens. Snow White develops a small crush on him. She starts getting flustered whenever he talks to her, and even more fidgety and precious - and even more, starts picking up his little mannerisms and habits. She sometimes points out whenever she notices something’s changed in his appearance.

Then, it’s Vil’s turn to feel flustered. She noticed. She notices whenever he does his hair differently, or when he paints his nails a new color, or when he wears a new arrangement of jewelry. He’s taken aback when his own heart starts fluttering whenever he’s around her, and soon he drops his mission to find fault with her and refocuses his attention on trying to avoid her. He has no time for falling in love.

But now Snow White is the one nervously trying to get his attention. And he's fallen so head over heels for her, he can’t not interact with her - and would feel too bad if he was mean to her. For a while, there’s a lot of tension between them, and Vil feels hideously awkward. He hates it. So he tries to finally confess, as slyly as he can.

Snow White isn’t very good at reading between the lines, but Vil isn’t very good at being subtle when he’s struck by so much emotion - so their feelings for each other come to light very quickly. There isn’t much verbal communication between them when they “confess,” though - Snow is too shy and Vil can’t admit anything unless he’s not being serious. But, if they do establish that they love each other, their relationship would be stable and warm from both parties.

#twisted wonderland #twst hcs #riddle #azul #kalim #vil #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #kalim al-asim #vil schoenheit

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