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tainted-wine · 4 years

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Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”

#hawks #smut #birdbrain hawks #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #tw dubcon #tw animal harm

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gaysimpsstuff · 3 years

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Flightless Birds Chapter Two: Courtship Of Care

Chapter One Here

Chapter Three Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: After Y/n’s encounter with Hawks, things in their life start to change. They have a creeping feeling that someone is watching them, and they get mysterious gifts and letters.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Stalking, toxic behavior, mention of suicide, mentions of clowns, multiple fourth wall breaks, hospitals, mentions of blood, violence, mentions of surgeries

Other: Sukaibado park is not a real place, however, Nishi Ward in Fukuoka is a real place. This was meant to be longer but I hit the word limit, so it’ll get pushed to the next chapter! Sorry! If you have any critics or questions don’t hesitate to let me know! I want this to be the best it possibly can be for your entertainment!!

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @assassinslittlesister (lemme know if you want to join or leave the taglist)

“Well, she’s clearly a bitch.”

You laughed at Izanagi’s reaction to the woman that yelled at you. You were in the back of his car, as sometimes your wings would get in the way of Izanagi’s driving, so it was just easier to sit like this.

“I mean- you’re not wrong.” You chuckled. “I’m just glad Hawks managed to get rid of her!”

“What’s he like?” Izanagi asked. “Hawks, is he as awesome in person?”

“You’re a simp.” You teased, laughing as he spluttered to defend himself. “I guess he’s pretty chill. He’s a lot taller than I thought he’d be, though.”

You’d chosen not to tell your friend about the creepy vibes you’d gotten from the hero, it was probably nothing anyway. He was a bird, like you, so he was probably just curious about you also being a bird. Even though you were a Parakeet and he was theorized to be a Red-Tailed Hawk. Animal quirks were uncommon, and among the animal quirks, you mostly saw dogs and cats, even goats were more common than birds. Plus, it wasn’t exactly a good idea to tell your best friend his celebrity crush was a creep.

“How much taller?” he asked

“I don’t know… maybe about four- no, five inches taller than me.”

“Damn- and with me being shorter than you by two inches that’s- fuck he’s a lot taller than me.” he murmured.

“Like I said before. You’re a simp.”

“Shut uppp!” he whined.

The rest of your day was peaceful (if anything including Izanagi could be considered ‘peaceful’), and you were grateful you only lived a block away from Izanagi, it made it a lot easier to get home. Thinking back, maybe you should have taken a moment or two to stop. Stop and look around, maybe then you would have seen the flash of red against the darkening sky, or felt his eyes bearing into your back. Maybe then you could have stopped everything, but it was too late now.

Sleeping wasn’t always comfortable. Beds that were shaped and built like actual bird’s nests were too expensive for you to afford with your salary, plus it was just way too big to fit in your tiny studio. Which meant you had to deal with the tiny bed and all the different ways your body could hurt in the morning.

You sat up, groaning and patting around your bed to find your phone, finally locating it on your nightstand. You grabbed it, turned it on, and scanned your lock screen, taking in your notifications. Thank fuck it was Saturday, and you didn’t have to go to work. Thank fuck again that your days off were on the weekends. Thank fuck a third time that Izanagi invited you to go to the park with him and your other friend, Kouten Yuu. Thank fuck a fourth and final time the messages were fresh and not sent an hour ago, which gave you plenty of time to get ready.

“Welp,” you muttered. “Time to get up and fuck the day.” you forced yourself into a sitting position, stumbling out of bed and almost immediately flopping back onto the mattress again. Maybe today wouldn’t be the easiest day to fuck. You sighed, pushing yourself up again and stretching. Your wings had been crushed by your body’s natural sleeping position, so being able to spread them wide in the mornings helped with preventing stiff wing muscles. That meant less cramps! Yay!

“Sukaibado park, huh? Guess Kouten and Izanagi are hoping to get me in the sky today.” Sukaibado park was a popular park in Nishi Ward, Fukuoka, that had laws protecting people with flying quirks, allowing them to take to the say in the surrounding area. It certainly helped that the park was located near the beach.

You stood up, grabbing some clean clothes off the ground from your drawer and putting them on. You glanced out the window as you dressed. You let out a sigh, grateful you could afford a home in such a beautiful area of Japan. You and Izanagi lived across from Sukaibado Park and had a great view of both park and beach just beyond it. In reality, you shouldn’t be able to afford this place, but since the flat itself was so small, it was just in the range of affordable.

You quickly brushed your hair and teeth, and texted Kouten, asking him to pick up something for you to eat on his way there. It was kind of a ritual between the three of you, everyone brought something to the table. Kouten brought the food, Izanagi brought his guitar, and you would bring your amazing singing voice! The three of you were practically a band already!

Aw who you are you trying to kid? Izanagi just picked up the guitar after quitting drums, trumpet, and piano, and your ‘singing’ was mostly chirps. It was a miracle Kouten hung out with you guys, let alone fed your poor asses. You grabbed your keys and opened the front door-

Huh.

What?

A small box was waiting for you on your doorstep, unlabeled except for neat cursive writing spelling out your name. You picked up the box and put it on the nearest surface inside, choosing to ignore it. Today was for flying, stretching your wings, pretending to like Izanagi’s music, and devouring whatever Kouten brought you.

As expected, Kouten and Izanagi were already there, waiting for you at one of the picnic tables with a full course meal on the table. You could smell it from the park entrance, and were at the table in an instant. It would have startled the boys if they’d not already grown used to it.

“Fuck, Kouten what did you bring this time?” you asked, looking up from the food for a moment to take in your friend’s appearances. Izanagi was dressed casually as usual. White t-shirt, blue jeans, and a grey sweatshirt wrapped around his waist. His long, light blue hair tied up in a ponytail as he chowed down on a large chicken wing. But do not be fooled- despite looking like an innocent UwU smol bean, Izanagi was a force to be reckoned with. Do not ever comment on his short stature or this man will kick you into worlds beyond.

Kouten was the complete opposite of Izanagi, both in looks and personality. Today, he’d adorned a light blue sweater and black pants, and even painted his nails yellow. Kouten’s hair was short and super curly, and his eyes were a startling green color. His resting bitch face and six feet of height was usually enough to scare most people off, however, Kouten was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Best hugs, best advice, most importantly…

“FRIED CHICKEN!” you shouted ecstatically. Of course! For such a beautiful day, Kouten would bring his best food. “Oh thank fuck for the fifth time! I’ve been craving this all week!”

You sat down, hurriedly muttering ‘itadakimas’ before snatching as many pieces of chicken as you possibly could and devouring them. Who gave a flying fuck if you looked like a cannibal? The chicken was delicious! Besides, you weren’t a chicken, you were a parakeet. There was a difference.

“Woah, hey, slow down a bit, Y/n” Kouten cautioned. “You’re gonna give yourself a stomach ache! Don’t eat more than five-”

“Five?” Izanagi interrupted. “Pussy, no more than eight.”

“Eight?!” you stared at your blue-haired friend with wide-eyes and a stuffed mouth. “Pussy. No more than eleven.”

“ELEVEN?” Kouten shook his head. “Oh no, if you eat that many you’ll hurt yourself for sure aaand you’ve already eaten twelve. Why do I even bother?” he threw his hands up in defeat. You and Izanagi continued to argue about how much chicken was too much, ignoring poor Kouten. That’s pretty much how things usually went between the three of you, you and Izanagi being dumbasses and Kouten being the only sane person there.

After thirty minutes of eating, came Izanagi’s ear-bleeding ‘song’ about some girl he knew in high school. If only he’d tuned his guitar beforehand, maybe then it wouldn’t have felt like nails on a chalkboard to you and Kouten. You lasted eight minutes before you finally had to put a stop to the terror he reigned on your poor ears. Then came the best part of the day, flying! Izanagi and Kouten would chat about random things on the ground as you soared high above them.

Flying is difficult to describe, but thankfully, whenever you are asked, you have an answer.

It’s liberation, ecstasy, and anxiety. The liberation was not being bound by the laws that chain others to the dirt. Being able to freely soar, reaching places others could only dream of being. The ecstasy was speed, dipping and diving and looping around the clouds. Being able to fly right through those fluffy bundles of water. The anxiety was falling, failing and getting yourself hurt.

That one day you’ll fly to high, and your wings of wax will melt. That the sun’s bright light will blind you to the incoming plane of reality and kill you. The knowledge that you wouldn’t even realise it, falling is just like flying.

It’s beautiful and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. In the sky, it’s calm. People don’t stare, or whisper. No one bumps into you, the world is all yours when you’re in the air. Even if you struggle to breathe, it always feels worth it. Worth the soreness in your wings after a long flight, worth the hammering of your heart after just pulling up in time to not hit the ground, worth it all. It’s exhilarating.

Word of advice for you free birds, fly while you still can, you never know when you might get caught up in a cage.

Landing was always the most difficult part. Hawks always seemed to be able to do it with ease, but you knew from experience that it was a lot more difficult than it looks. You could feel your whole body float for a second before you dove down. The ground rising to meet your weightless body faster and faster, before your folded wings extended, and you tilted them upwards, carrying your body up again, as you swooped above the ground, righting yourself and landing with just a few flaps of your multi-colored wings.

“Best part of the day~” you cooed, stretching your arms as you folded your wings behind your back. Kouten and Izanagi looked at you in awe.

“I wish my quirk would let me fly.” Izanagi grumbled. “I can’t do shit with light manipulation.” he flicked his wrist, forming a small crystal of light in his palm. It flickered for a moment before vanishing.

“Come on, don’t be so hard on yourself!” you sat down next to your friend, patting his back sympathetically. “I think your quirk is beautiful! I still have that little star hanging on my wall!”

When you and Izanagi were still littler children, and his quirk was still in development, he’d made a small star out of light. It would glow when you touched it, and it was like having an actual star in your hand. It was so shiny, transparent but sparkly, filled with a dazzling array of rainbow specks, a faint glow dappling your walls with miniature constellations.

“Yeah, Izanagi. Think about it for a sec.” Kouten offered. “Your quirk is certainly better than mine. Being able to identify any flavor isn’t all that impressive. Helpful for my job, but not much other than that.” Izanagi looked up at Kouten, frown only deepening.

“If you really think that about your quirk, than you’re even more of an idiot than I thought.” he grumbled.

“Izanagi! Not the right time!” you glared at him, and he just shrugged you off.

“No seriously, even if your quirk has that single use, it’s still a use. You’ve made the best meals I’ve ever tasted. Remember Colonel Sanders? According to legend, that man wrote down the OG KFC recipe on a hill as he contemplated suicide. I’m pretty sure he had a quirk similar to yours. If his chicken was good enough to save his own life, then surely it’s saved others, right? Be like him.”

You softened, smiling at Izanagi. Even if he was a bit of an ass, he had a heart of gold. He’d never let any of his friends feel down. You were pretty sure he threatened to punch away your deathly fear of clowns. Not the clowns, but the fear itself. Weird, but touching.

“That.... was the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t understand how it’s touching, but it is. Thanks, man.” Kouten pulled Izanagi in for a hug, and you cooed. However, you guys were friends, so things really couldn’t stay wholesome.

“Gayyyy”

“Dude I’m literally bi.” Izanagi glared at you.

“Gayyyyyyyyy” you laughed, so did Kouten. Izanagi rolled his eyes, but eventually he too, chuckled a little.

“Yeah yeah yeah. Anyways I gotta go, I’ll the you two weirdos later, kay?” he grabbed his guitar, waving at the two of you.

“Later, buddy!” Kouten shouted after him, waving.

“Bye!” you smiled, waving him off before turning back to Kouten. “So what should we do?”

“Great suggestion, Kou, but we need something entertaining that we can do right now.

“Head to your place and watch YouTube?” he shrugged, and you nodded.

“Perfect plan. Knew I could count on you!” you laughed, helping Kouten clean up the mess on the picnic table before heading across the street to your flat. You keyed the door, opening it and walking in.

Kouten’s eyes immediately fell onto the package you’d received earlier. You’d just tossed it onto the coffee table half-hazardly.

“What’s that?” he asked curiously.

“I dunno really. I just found it on my doorstep.” you shrugged, sitting down and opening your laptop.

“Seems kinda creepy, it doesn’t have a return address.” he frowned. “It could have a tracking device in it- you should just throw it away.” you nodded, Kouten was probably right. He usually was. You promised to throw it away after a few Vine compilations.

You lied.

After Kouten left, you turned to the package. It had been hours since it was left on your doorstep, you were really hoping it wasn’t food or anything. You sat down on the edge of your bed with the package in your hands, slowly peeling the tape off and opening it.

You were… reasonably underwhelmed by the contents of the package. It was just a beanie hat. Yellow with a red feather embroidered on. Hawks merch. Maybe you’d accidentally ordered it? Or maybe Izanagi sent it to you. Yeah it was probably him. You’d have to thank him the next time you saw him.

You put the hat down on your nightstand, checking the time. Maybe you should make lunch. You believed it was the last of the unlabeled gifts. You were sorely mistaken.

The next day, there was another package.

“Seriously, Izanagi?” you grumbled. “Another?” you picked it up and brought it back inside, opening it hastily. You couldn’t lie, you were at least a little curious to what he’d gotten you this time.

A… bottle cap? No, five bottle caps.

“Fuckin weirdo.” you muttered, brushing it off and umping the caps next to the hat and continuing on with your day.

The third day, the package had a weird note attached to it, reading your coffee order from that morning. You pursed your lips, ripping the note apart in fear before opening the box. You screamed.

There was a dead squirell inside.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” you dropped the box in your shock and fear, and the poor animal fell out onto your floor. You paused for a moment to take a deep breath. You crouched down next to the animal, poking it lightly. Maybe it was still alive?

Nope.

Dead.

Dead as fuck.

You shuddered, wrapping it up in a paper towel and taking it out back, holding a small funeral for it and burying it.

Who the fuck was sending you these things? It was clearly not Izanagi. He was an animal lover, and he’d never do this. You felt like throwing up, but for some reason (probably plot convenience), you didn’t say anything.

A few days later, something terrible happened.

You remembered your phone buzzing, and you sat up to pick it up. It was the middle of the night and you were trying to sleep. It was Izanagi. The fuck was he calling you for right now? You hit accept and pressed the cold screen to your ear.

“It’s 1:23 AM. Explain.” you growled into the phone.

“It’s Kouten- he was attacked! I- I’m taking him to the hospital right now, come quick! I’m taking him to Sanno Hospital near Fukuoka tower!” he exclaimed. You sat up, suddenly wide awake.

“What?”

“I’m driving, so I gotta put the phone down, but hurry!”

Beep

The call ended. You were already on your feet, pulling on clothes and grabbing your car keys. You rushed into your car and drove as fast as legally possible.

What the fuck happened? Kouten… attacked? By whom? Was he okay? What kind of injuries had he sustained? Was he concsious? Was he breathing? How had Izanagi found him? What the hell was going on? Was this related to your stalker?

Your mind buzzed with scenarios, all the way to Sanno Hospital, all the way across the parking lot, through the doors, as you talked to the man behind the counter, on the way to the ICU. Then your mind was blank again.

You sat next to Izanagi in the hallway, both of you sitting near a door with a large lit-up LED sign. Surgery in Progress. Your hands folded in your lap. You were so dizzy, what the fuck was happening? Myabe it was because you were tired, or still in shock, but it didn’t feel real.

Was Kouten really behind that door? Were doctors really slicing him open? Were you really here? You still felt the warmth of your blankets from just twenty-seven minutes before. Had it really been almost a half hour? It felt like it had just been a few seconds.

Nothing felt right.

“Hey.” you slowly turned your head around to look at Izanagoi. “You okay?” he asked. You sighed, shaking your head. “Do you want to hear what happened? Think that’ll make you feel better?”

You paused for a moment, slowly nodding. You didn’t want to speak. If you opened your mouth, you feared you’d let all the meals you’d eaten force their way up your throat.

“I got a text. It was from Kouten, he just sent his location. I didn’t know why, but I figured it was important. So I went there. I shouldn’t have taken my time. I found him in an alleyway near the tower, he was so still. I’d never seen him like that. He was- Kouten was soaked in blood. There was a knife lodged into his chest an I- I panicked. You know the rest I think.” he trailed off, looking away from you. Your eyes fell to the floor, still silent.

How many minutes had it been?

The next thing you knew, A doctor was speaking to you, saying something about successful surgery, how he was in recovery, how he needed rest. A moment later, you were standing outside Izanagi’s car. Numb. You decided with him silently to go back to his place and stay the night together. You could get your car in the morning.

Izanagi offered you his bed, and he would sleep on the couch. But you couldn’t sleep. At all. Your mind was racing. You jumped up when you heard the door creak open.

Oh.

It was Izanagi.

You patted the sheets next to you, and he crawled in with you. For a moment, you felt a spark of excitement in your cheeks, but it disappeared quickly, just like your consciousness now that he was here.

The next day, you still felt numb. Better, but still numb. You woke up with Izanagi’s arms wrapped around your waist, his face buried into the crook of your shoulder. Your wing flopped over him. You sat up, rubbing his face to wake him up. His eyes slowly blinked open, brown orbs looking up at you.

“Hey… Y/n.” he mumbled.

“Mornin’ Iza.” you turned around, checking the time. “Sorry, I still have to work.” you told him. He nodded, understanding. He drove you there, and promised to take you to the hospital after, so you could pick up your car. The entire day at work seemed so slow. Everyone dragged their conversations with you on for forever. Time was moving so slow. It felt like a century had passed when Izanagi picked you up.

You didn’t speak, he just took you to the hospital. Then, everything moved quick again. You were outside Kouten’s hospital room, holding Izanagi’s hand.

You almost didn’t want to go in. You stared at the ground, vision blurry. Izanagi squeezed your hand, re-grounding you.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at you with soft eyes.

“Never.” you chuckled breathlessly.

He nodded with you, opening the hospital room door and walking in with you.

You kept your eyes glued to the ground, feeling Izanagi tighten his grip on your hand. You could hear the beeping of the monitor, but you didn’t want to see it.

“Hey… guys.” Kouten. You ripped your gaze from the floor to direct it at the hospital bed. You felt a chill freeze your throat, choking you. Your friend was laying down in the bed, hooked up to tubes and machines, bandages covering most of his body, including one of his eyes. He looked tired and thin, unlike his usual cheerful manner.

“Hey, Kouten.” Izanagi managed to pull the words from his chest and put them in the air, a talent you could not yet access. You just… stared. Everything felt so still, even as Izanagi pulled you to a chair beside Kouten. You could hear the muffled sounds of your friends talking to each other, but you weren’t really there. Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred.

“Y/n? You good there, Buddy?” Kouten’s voice broke you from your fog. You looked up at him, and he offered you a smile. You could feel the ice that had been stuck to your skin since last night melt away under his sweet gaze.

“Yeah, sorry Kou. I’m just… scared. Did- did you see your attacker?” Kouten frowned, shaking his head solemnly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see their face. But I did see blonde hair and something red, probably blood, but I don’t know. It kind of looked like a sword, maybe? But also looked like- I don’t know.” he shook his head again, apologetic.

“Why were you out there anyways?” Izanagi asked him.

“I just needed some air, and the city is really pretty at night… and maybe I got a text from someone cute on a dating app and wanted to meet them…” the last part was muttered under his breath. You couldn’t help but face-palm.

“I’d lecture you on how fucking dumb that is, but I think you’ve already learned your lesson.” Izanagi scolded, “You fucking dumbass! Thank fuck you’re okay!”

After about fiteen minutes, a nurse came in and told you and Izanagi that he needed more rest, advizing the two of you to head back home and return tomorrow.

You could barely think, why? Why was this happening? How could this even be happening?

And why couldn’t you do anything about it?

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

Hi hi, love!☺❤🌈 Here is ya matchup lol. Hope I didn’t make you wait tooo long lol! I hope you enjoy this dear and I hope you have a super good day! Sending ya lots o hugs!☺❤🥰 @yunohawkeye

So I match you with................... Arthur

Oh, the second Arthur spotted a new little skirt coming into the mansion, all his attention was solely on you. It’s no secret, Arthot loves to charm a woman, so he definitely made a beeline straight to you to introduce himself.

You were chatting with Vincent, and from where Arthur was standing, he couldn’t tell which one of the two of you were more pure and innocent, you or Vincent. You were wearing a shy smile as you chatted with the blond and simply radiated an innocent energy. What Arthur didn’t expect was the personality beneath

The next day after helping Sebastian with all the chores, Arthot spotted you sitting in the library all alone reading. He honestly wanted to get to know you better, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone. He invited you out to the pub with him and Theo. That is how you landed yourself sandwiched between the two men, drinking away.

Naturally, Arthur was on the hunt for his night time companion after you had shot him down for the 3rd time in a row. The two of you were now scanning the bar for potential prey. You were determined to act as Arthur's wing-man, considering Theo wanted nothing to do with Arthur's escapades. You found that after the first drink, your bubbly quirky personality started to shine through. Arthur absolutely loved this new side of you! He found it refreshing that he could be himself with you, treating you like one of the guys, and not having to put up his classical playboy front.

You couldn’t help but bust out into laughter at Arthur and Theo’s shocked expressions when you let a dirty joke slip, sometime throughout the evening. “Looks like you aren’t as innocent as you look Luv,” he said howling in laughter.

After seeing how red Theo’s face went after you made the joke you and Arthur teamed up and started teasing the younger van Gogh brother. Although the victim to merciless teasing, that night Theo noted that, that had been the first night, since knowing Arthur, where he hadn’t nibbled on a single little skirt. Instead, all his attention was solely on you and your hilarious jokes. He hadn’t tried to charm you or get into your pants, instead the two of you chatted and joked around like old friends.

Visiting the bar with the two boys had actually become somewhat of a regular occurrence after the first night. Although neither of you ever realised it, Theo couldn’t help but chuckle at how genuinely smitten Arthur was with you. You would always tag along to act as Arthur's wingman to find him the perfect girl for the night. But between the dirty jokes and flirty banter, he would never leave your side, instead, shooting down every option in the bar and opting to spend the evening drinking with you.

Since you had arrived in Arthur's life he, in fact, hadn’t looked at any other woman other than you. Not that either of you noticed this revelation.

Arthur loved how you were just so different from other women. He loved your tomboyish style and teasing nature. He loved that the two of you could talk about any topic, especially NSWF topics. He loved that the two of you have equally dirty minds. And whenever someone says something seemingly innocent, both you and Arthur would lock eyes and burst out laughing. The two of you will definitely irritate the mansion’s residents with your shenanigans and inside joke, and no one is safe when the pair of you were in the same room.

For example, one day as Sabastian placed a huge big fluffy pancake in front of Vincent. The blonds eyes lit up as he innocently said, “Thank you so much Sabastian, but this is simply too big for me” cue you and Arthur snickering and in sync saying, “that’s what she said”, followed by a prompt high five. And after you had explained to Arthur what a sex tape was, the two of you started doing “name of your sex tape” jokes. Arthur were like your best friend, and whenever the two of you hung out, you just had the best time. It honestly took no time at all for you to fall in love with the secretly sensitive man.

Honestly, how could Arthur not fall head over heels for you. The two of you could go from serious conversations, to joking in 2.5 seconds flat. He loved how quirky and weird you are at times and honestly loves that he too can be his complete self with you.

Your fun-loving, caring nature has actually helped him to show you his more vulnerable side. He half thought you would run for the hill after finding out about his past. But instead, you to opened yourself up and let yourself be just as vulnerable, telling him about all the struggles you have had to deal with in your life. The two of you have had a few hearts to heart moments with each other in the past, which has allowed both of you to grow and heal. The funny thing is that often after chatting about a heavy topics seconds later, the two of you are back to joking around and talking about the most random of things.

One day Arthur came by your room to invite you to the pub as he does, and noticed your notebook open on the table. Curiosity killed the cat as Arthur gently picked it up and read the first few sentences. To say the mystery author went as red as a beet would be an understatement, especially when he was reading the naughty scene of your latest smut. You walked into your room to find Arthur reading through your book wearing a sly smile. “well well well I always knew were a little minx, looks like I should be taking some notes from you,” he said with a wink, as you lightly hit him on the chest and dragged him to your usual seat at the bar. Wondering what he would say if he found out about your NSFW games. No doubt he would probably enjoy playing them just as much as you.

The day Arthur confessed his love was when the two of you were out at the bar together. A woman approaches the two of you, with the intent to steal Arthur away for the night- if you catch my drift. Arthur having eyes for no one but you, politely decline the ladies offer at company for the night. But this woman was rather insistent. That’s when Arthur reached over to gently cup your cheeks and looked deeply into your light grey-blue eyes. He examined your face, and once he found his answer, he leaned in and kissed you. He then turned to the woman and proclaimed loud enough so that the whole bar could hear, “This adorable woman right here is my dearest Luv, whom has captured this poor old chaps heart, so I’m afraid I am off the market indefinitely as of tonight.” He then sat down and looked at you, with that vulnerable boyish look in his eyes, before leaning in to steal another kiss

Your relationship is very much built on mutual trust, communication, respect and understanding. Because your relationship had been built on the strong pillars of friendship, you and Arthur know each other reasonably well at this point. Arthur knows that whenever the two of you have a little spat, that the only way to solve the problem is to talk it out. Whenever either of you is mad at the other, each of you will follow the unspoken rule of, talking out the problem to find a suitable solution or compromise. Neither of you think it is productive to yell and throw toys out the cot to get your way. Arthur honestly loves and adores the fact that he has found a companion with the same relationship values as him.

You and Arthur have a lot of fun together. The two of you just seem to bring out the best in each other, and Arthur can’t help but fall even more in love with you every day, as he gets to know you better. Like when he discovered you could play the French horn and piano, he was in complete awe. And he very much insisted you play for him. This man will randomly dance along with the melody and tune as you play for him, and you can’t help but laugh at his goofy dance moves mid-way through your performance. Arthur will legit give you the cutest pout as you laugh at his clumsy dance moves, and before you know it he is taking your hands in his so the two of you can randomly dance together.

Its is most definitely not uncommon for the two of you to randomly break out into dances, especially if you are cooking together.

Arthot knows you often get insecure about your skills and appearance, just as he knows that you are the absolute worst at accepting compliments. So he will shower you with love and affection the only other way he knows how, through action. He will find any and every excuse he can just to kiss you. If you are feeling insecure, he will wrap you up in his strong arms and whisper to you the sweetest words of encouragement and reassurance. And if you don’t accept his sweet little words, he will start to tickle you until you admit out loud just how absolutely perfect you are, cause that what you are in his eyes, flawless.

He knows you don’t like shopping trips or large crowds so this sneaky little playboy will bring Vic along and disguise shopping trips as dog walks. He will always be sure to pick the time of the day and route that is most quiet. And if there are still too many people, Vic will back you up and growl at the people in front of you so they can clear the path for the three of you.

Cause online shopping does not exist yet, you are low key forced to go shopping, but with Arthur by your side taking you to all your favourite stores with Vic, it actually makes shopping trips fun and more bearable.

Often the two of you cuties can be found nestled in each other’s arms as you read Arthur your newest smut piece. Hope you are ready to be teased mercilessly after, cause this man loves to tease. Often when you are done reading, he will smile that boyish smile up at you and pull you down for a kiss while seductively whispering against your lips that he would like to try that weird position or kink that you had mentioned in your fic.

Arthur thanks his lucky stars every night as he sweetly kisses your sleeping face, for sending you to him. You are honestly his best friend, and he couldn’t imagine life with anyone else by his side. You have helped him to heal from his past, and every day spent with you is the happiest day of his life, even though the hard times and fights.

Other potential matches…………… Theo

I hope you enjoyed this, dear! And I hope you have a wonderful day.🥰❤☺

#ikevamp #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur #ikevam arthur #ikemen arthur conan doyle #arthot #arthur matchup #arthur conan doyle

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possiblyimbiassed · 5 years

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John’s wedding is a crime scene - Part IV

In Part III of this meta series I came up with a rather horrible hypothesis: What if Sherlock and John actually did get intimate on the stag night, but none of them wanted to admit this fact - perhaps not even to themselves - for different reasons? Which was what ultimately broke Sherlock’s heart and made him OD after the wedding? This is a rather speculative idea of course; it could definitely be very wrong, and I don’t actually wish it to be true. But this is still what I see, and it would explain certain things in the show, so I might as well try to provide evidence and explain what makes me jump on this train of thoughts.

In Part III I tried to point out the distinct, symbolic resemblance between the Mayfly Man’s ‘crime scene’ and 221B. This, together with John showing up in Mrs Hudson’s kitchen the following morning, makes me think John and Sherlock never actually left Baker Street after the stag night. And their leaving 221B is not confirmed by John’s blog. So if they never left 221B, what did actually happen?

Permit me a bit of more analysis and shameless speculation (if you’re already bored, you can just skip this part, because it’s long and maybe tedious :) ).

So if they never left 221B, what about this nurse who came between them? I think ‘Tessa’ is either incredibly naïve, or lying. As @raggedyblue said in the addition to Part III, ‘Tessa’ only dates a guy one night, and it’s only dinner out and exchange of numbers. If she doesn’t hear anything from him after that (and she didn’t seem to know him before) why would she go to his flat to investigate? In the show ‘Tessa’ says that she thought he’d at least call to say they were finished. But how can you finish something that never actually started?

We could also ask why John followed Sherlock home after the pub round, instead of going home to his soon-to-be wife? Well, alcohol might have had to do with it. But the alibi of a case sounds better, doesn’t it? ;) Actually, during the wedding planning scene in TSoT (and this is part of Sherlock re-telling some cases from John’s blog in his best man speech), Sherlock tells us “I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of...” until he’s interrupted by ‘Mary’. And he says this directly after he claims to have solved another case “without leaving the flat”. Hmm... By the way, this is also the scene where Sherlock is showing off his skills with the serviettes:

The swan looks a tiny bit cocky, don’t you think? (Of course it does - swans are some of the cockiest birds I know ;))) ‘Mary’ made him choose the Opera House, though, whatever that might symbolise...

Anyway, What if John is lying in his blog post, and the interruption from this ‘nurse’ (whose name is not revealed in the blog post) was actually a phone call or a text message from ‘Mary’? Which they might have dismissed, John perhaps telling her they were on a case. While the real Tessa actually e-mailed Sherlock late at night, or something like that. Just speculating here... ;)

By the way, these blog descriptions are getting more suspicious the more I think of them. John’s next-to last blog post is called “The Hollow Client”, and it’s dated July 2nd:

This is about a month before the wedding, and John and Sherlock have been to a suit-fitting together. Sounds logical enough; friends could totally do that, even though John is living with Mary since at least a year back. But John describes it as if he were still living in 221B with Sherlock: it’s “when we got back” and “sitting in my chair” and “He’d emailed us”. And now there’s also an empty suit, exactly when John has been to the tailor to have his own suit fitted for the wedding. “Jack Griffin” has the same number of letters as “John Watson”, by the way, and the name starts and ends with the same letters. It’s almost as if John is indeed still living there, but he’s invisible - isn’t he? ;) Why is John gravitating back towards staying with Sherlock at 221B, shortly before his own wedding? Of course, in the show, the wedding planning seems to have mainly taken place at 221B, but wouldn’t ‘Mary’ then be at least mentioned here? But she isn’t visible when Sherlock recounts this case in his best man speech either.

Anyway, back to ‘Tessa’.

For some reason, a visit to this flat made her believe she had dated a ghost (or an ‘empty suit’, perhaps? ;) ), rather than someone who just didn’t want to give her his correct address. And for this she hires a detective? Visits him late at night? In the other cases described, the Mayfly Man seems to have actually taken the women ‘home’ with him for one-night stands (well, ‘Gail’ in Sherlock’s MP court room at least says that “nothing happened”). But this wasn’t the case with ‘Tessa’. Up to this point the ‘Mayfly Man’ blogpost coincides with what we see in the show; Sherlock’s MP conversations with the ‘victims’ are actually taking place online. But it’s only in the show that the famous detective finds this ‘ghost’ case so important that he goes out late at night - in a heavily inebriated state - to check out this (supposed) address, which could just as well be fake. Why not do this in daylight? But no, he goes there at night, immediately as if it were an urgent murder case, ‘clueing for looks’. But the only clues he does find are reminiscent of 221B. To me, there’s something very fishy going on here.

John’s little white lies on the blog may be understandable, if he simply doesn’t want to reveal that they were both so drunk they got picked up by the police. But aren’t the gaps a bit too obvious? Why does he have to describe his stag night as a “a quiet, civilised evening in the pub”? John isn’t exactly someone who says no to a drink, so at least he could have revealed the less compromising parts of it. It was supposed to be a stag party after all. And why - after having been arrested, and with Mary probably waiting at home for him - does John return to 221B in the morning? Living with ‘Mary’ since last year, it’s not as if he’s leaving 221B now, is it?

Apart from this, there are two main things that bother me, I think, and perhaps most of all the combination of them: John’s silence on the blog after this event, and the sheer amount of sexual innuendos concentrating around John’s wedding.

As for the blog, John seems to be hanging over the comment section instead of focusing on his newly wed wife on their honeymoon, as Sherlock points out. John keeps commenting on it, apparently until Mary makes him stay away from it (“John. You are reading your blog again” appears on August 12, the day after Sherlock posted the wedding photos and talked about John’s “sex holiday”). And yet none of them even comments the 'attempted murder’ that Sherlock solved on their wedding, thereby saving the whole event from disaster - why? (And why is this the last time John ever posts anything on his blog?)

There are lots of erotic hints sprinkled all over the show (pointed out years ago, for example by brilliant Rebekkah in TJLC explained), but in TSoT the sexual innuendos get very blatant, and they’re raining down like a shower. I mean, apart from the ones I’ve mentioned in Part III, there are much more, for example these lines, that on a textual level all seem (more or less) farfetched: The Waters gang gets caught “in the act” by the police. Donovan: “We’ve got the tunnel entrance covered”. Janine: “I’m very pleased to meet you. But no sex, OK?” Sherlock: “...with a history of erectile disfunction”. Molly: “And we’re having quite a lot of sex”. Sherlock to Mycroft: “Why are you out of your breath? Either I’ve caught you in a compromising position or...”

And then there’s the most blatant innuendo of them all: this absurd theory of what happened to Bainbridge, suggested by a Sherlock mirror (and look how the John mirror beside him is smirking :) ):

Why would this idea occur to a random boyfriend of Molly’s? Unless it’s a metaphor - and a painfully obvious one. And to whom was this supposed to have happened? To Bainbridge - another Sherlock mirror.

Lestrade’s theory about the killer is that he’s a ‘dwarf’.

(I mean, come on Sherlock Greg, give poor John a break!) In a recent post, @ebaeschnbliah discovered other suspicious innuendos about an ‘organ’ in TSoT (X), which only increases the impression that TSoT is this show’s El Dorado of innuendos.

And - continuing the pile of subtle pieces of evidence - then there’s S4, marked by John’s terrible sense of guilt over cheating on ‘Mary’:

But isn’t it a bit exaggerated to be this guilt-ridden over some basically innocent text messages to a totally random woman from the bus? While 'Mary’ is (supposedly) forgiven for having nearly killed John’s best friend? The same friend that John himself had recently nearly killed too? If this isn’t blown out of proportions, I really don’t know what is. But later in TLD we learn that this bus woman is actually Eurus in disguise - who I believe represents a side of Sherlock - ‘Sister Sentiment’. Wouldn’t this outburst of guilt be more logical if it had some real background?

Johns policy on the blog seems to be to pretend the stag do never happened. And if this was John’s reaction, Sherlock’s behaviour is probably an auto-defense mechanism aimed to repress and compartmentalise this emotionally devastating memory. Not because he didn’t like what happened, but because of the heartbreak of how everything turned out after that - because of John’s denial and decision to mary ‘Mary’ anyway. As I’ve tried to show in my meta series “What happened to Sherlock” (X) I believe that we’re in Sherlock’s mind from Day 1, that what we see in the show up until HLV is Sherlock living through his memories while reading up on John’s blog. And the rest of the show Sherlock is in coma after an OD, but still running hypothetical scenarios inside his Mind Theatre. If my idea about the stag night would turn out to be true, I actually think this would fit both with John killing Hope in ASiP, with Sherlock losing Faith in TLD and with Love being a constant suspect of Sherlock’s after TSoT. And it would definitely fit with the fact that Sherlock never gets a ‘confession’ out of Culverton Smith (= John mirror) in TLD.

But then in TFP Sherlock has this mental “purgatory” through which he drags himself; this experimental lab that is Sherrinford, ruled by Sister Sentiment, where he’s going through hell and facing his demons. And in TFP we have this conversation between Sherlock and Eurus (Thanks for the transcript, Ariane deVere. My bolding):

EURUS: Oh! Have you had sex? SHERLOCK (continuing to play the tune): Why do you ask? EURUS: The music. I’ve had sex. SHERLOCK: How? EURUS: One of the nurses got careless. I liked it. Messy, though. People are so breakable. SHERLOCK (still playing): I take it he didn’t consent. EURUS: He? SHERLOCK: She? EURUS: Afraid I didn’t notice in the heat of the moment and afterwards... well, you couldn’t really tell. Is that vibrato or is your hand shaking?

I never thought that this conversation made sense; why is Eurus’ sex life interesting at all? Why is she presented as some kind of sex predator, while being painted as gay at the same time? Is this meant to be some sort of horrible homophobic joke from the show makers?

However, after realising that Sherlock and John might have never left the flat after the stag night in TSoT, this conversation with Eurus kind of offers a new reading that I honestly hadn’t thought about before. (And I think the trap that shouls be avoided here is reading it without emotional context; this context might actually have been provided long before this in the show). You don’t follow me? OK, let’s play Sherlock here. Let’s put up a Mind Theatre scenario and pick this conversation apart, line by line, reconstructing what possibly might have happened during the stag night. I’ll substitute Eurus’ name with MP!Sherlock to facilitate the understanding. Remember that in our little scenario, this is Sherlock talking to himself:

MP!Sherlock: Oh! Have you had sex? This could of course be about Victor Trevor or someone like him in Sherlock’s earlier past. Or it could be a taunt if Sherlock is still a virgin. But if Sherlock did at some point have sex with someone, he apparently has repressed this memory, so the question might be valid for the stag night scenario. And on a meta level, it’s also hard to see why Eurus’ words would allude to something that the audience is not familiar with, since it hasn’t been shown. So balance of probability makes me think stag night, because we might actually have seen it happen, albeit covered up with metaphors.

SHERLOCK (continuing to play the tune): Why do you ask? But now he gets suspicious - always the curious detective. :)

MP!Sherlock: The music. I’ve had sex. In TSoT we have these scenes out at the pubs, with sexual innuendo in the shape of chemistry measuring cylinders, and some rather suggestive pieces of music.

So this talk of music might just trigger Sherlock’s memory that he did indeed have sex with John, albeit in such an inebriated state that he doesn’t even remember the details, just the fact and the emotional imprint it left on him.

SHERLOCK: How? Please note that he doesn’t ask “when”, which would sound more logical, wouldn’t it? But at least Sherlock’s subconscious might be perfectly aware that something ‘forbidden’ did happen during the stag night. So the next immediate question would be: how did this event at the stag night actually come to happen? How was it even possible?

MP!Sherlock: One of the nurses got careless. I liked it. Messy, though. People are so breakable. You could say that the nurse ’Mary’ got careless, in the sense that she didn’t seem to keep track on her fiancee’s doings shortly before their wedding. And yes - Sherlock obviously liked ’it’. But since they were both drunk, it was quite messy, both in a physical and an emotional sense. And of course people are emotionally breakable, even if Sherlock tends to despise this fact. But all three of them are human beings who can break down. Which I believe is exactly what Sherlock did, only some time later, when the wedding was a fact (’delayed action stabbing’). And consequently he took a lot of drugs and OD:ed (as I have tried to suggest before X, X).

SHERLOCK (still playing): I take it he didn’t consent. MP!Sherlock: He? Who - John? Well he actually did, didn’t he?

SHERLOCK: She? But where was ’Mary’ in all this? Did she consent to John and Sherlock spending the night together?

MP!Sherlock: Afraid I didn’t notice in the heat of the moment and afterwards... well, you couldn’t really tell. Neither of them probably noticed the ’consent’ issue in the heat of the moment, since they were drunk. And when looking at how ’Mary’ acts about John and Sherlock, indeed it’s difficult to understand what she thinks. ‘Mary’ knows from start how much John has been grieving Sherlock; she must have noticed that there was probably something deeper than friendship going on between them. And she definitely noticed what Sherlock did to John at the Landmark restaurant. And still...

Isn’t ��Mary’ just a little too tolerant to be a truly authentic fiancee/wife? During the wedding reception she told Sherlock that “neither of us was the first, you know”. And then in HLV we have her threatening to kill Sherlock if he “takes one more step”. Contradictory indeed; I think it’s no wonder Sherlock finds it hard to tell whether she ‘consents’ or not.

MP!Sherlock: Is that vibrato or is your hand shaking? Vibrato?! No further comments… ;)

So if my horrible hypothesis happens to be true, this conversation with Eurus actually does seem to make some sort of sense.

I do know this hypothesis is wild, but reconstructing important events backwards from observations of tiny details is actually the Sherlock Holmes character’s MO, so why shouldn’t we, the audience, have a try at it as well? We have Holmes and Watson themselves pointing it out for us in TAB:

HOLMES: From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara. WATSON: Or a Reichenbach.

And, by the way, this show is not unique in using subtle double entendre that might mean something sexual has happened between these two guys. ACD canon is full of innuendos too, what with Holmes and Watson using the Turkish bath together (ILLU), sharing double-bedded hotel rooms (TWIS), etc, etc. And Watson has not been married a month before he abandons his job and wife for some new adventure together with Holmes (who is suddenly waxing lyric over a rose), which ends up with him sleeping in 221B (NAVA).

Tagging some people who might be interested:@sarahthecoat @tjlcisthenewsexy @ebaeschnbliah @fellshish @gosherlocked @loveismyrevolution @sagestreet @raggedyblue @sherlockshadow @darlingtonsubstitution @devoursjohnlock @tendergingergirl @kateis-cakeis @csi-baker-street-babes @88thparallel @timilina @dieseldrakilis @sherlock-overflow-error @elldotsee

#the stag night #john's wedding is a crime scene

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paxx-has-toebeans · 4 years

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Aight here’s that AU with the miraculous box I was talking about earlier lolol

A car was flung into one of the street vendors, crushing it flat almost instantly. Cowering beside it was the poor owner, who’d only been in Paris for two weeks and was completely freaked out by all the madness brought by an akuma. Cassandra felt bad for the guy, especially since he’d been so nice to everyone earlier. She almost made her way over to him, but was sent backwards by the falling debris of a nearby building. “Pay attention Midnight!” Her eyes could catch the tall male smacking his partner upside the head with a red and black spotted clipboard. “Ow! I’m pretty sure the Lucky Charm isn’t meant for hitting innocent felines.” The leather clad heroine rubbed the back of her head, clawed fingers tangling into her red hair. The observing girl had to bite back a sigh as she ducked behind one of the abandoned café tables. Didn’t Redbug and Midnight have something better to do than bigger with each other? They used to be so in-tune, until the akuma attacks suddenly started to get more frequent. As she waited for them to figure things out, a small yellow and black creature flew out from her pocket. It’s small arms were crossed and an annoyed expression seemed to be on its face as it floated next to her head, watching the chaos ensue. “I thought the black cat and ladybug miraculouses were supposed to be in sync. What a blunder.” Its long tail flicked mischievously, but quickly straightened out as the girl grabbed him by an ear and pulled him back. Another piece of debris flew, along with a shout of ‘cataclysm’ from Midnight. “Paxx, have a bit of respect. They’ve been fighting Monarch nonstop for the past four days. They’re probably tired and irritated.” The creature didn’t say anything after that, just deciding to turn his attention back to the fight. The both of them watched with wide eyes as Redbug, the ladybug holder, got himself stuck in a wall of cement. The clipboard fell to the ground with a loud clatter, making Paxx flinch. “I’m sure they’re fine, Midnight will recharge themselves soon an-” He got cut off as Midnight got grabbed by the hair and swung right into the wall Redbug was currently trapped in. The villain, Cementor as they crowned themselves, was snickering as the concreate piled over the now unconscious hero. “Or not. Well, time to go. Places to run, people to hide with.” He started hovering towards the creaking café, which now had a billboard stuck halfway through the roof. “Oh no you don’t! Paxx, transform me!” A loud groan escaped from him as he was sucked into the pendant of the girl’s necklace. With a flash of yellow light, she’d transformed herself into a new persona. The ‘smile’ tee and shorts were replaced with a yellow romper, black spots dotting everything but the stomach and chest. Her hands were gloved in white, small claws prodding from underneath them. (I’m so bad at this part I’m sorry ajdfndf) The mask felt weird to her, almost like there was something glued to her face. She’d always known the transformation words, but had never used them until now. It was dire at this point, she could no longer hide in the shadows. Throwing herself into the middle of the scene, she grabbed the weapon on her side. She stared at it oddly. “An African trumpet? The heck is this gonna do for me, put them to sleep?” She didn’t have long to think on it too much, just barely dodging the clump of concrete thrown at her face. “Who are you?” The concrete monster in front of her was dripping onto the pavement, every movement making a bubbling sound as they stepped closer. Even with all the times she wondered what it would be like to transform, she never figured that part out. “I’m uhhh....uh...Quick...stop?” “Lame!” There was a coughing noise from the dazed Midnight, who’d stirred not too long before. The akuma glared at them before turning their heads back to the novice hero. “Doesn’t matter anyways.” They lifted their clumpy arms above their head as a large dome of liquid concrete started to drop onto her head. In a moment of panic, she shouted. “Timestop!” Birds stopped in mid-air, people were frozen as they ran, even Midnight had been caught in the middle of her laughter. With a sigh of relief, she looked at the concrete stuck in the air. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” She looked around the scene, knowing her range of the time freeze was only a mile. People would start to suspect soon, so she needed to hurry up. Looking to the concrete monster, then to Midnight and Redbug, a grin formed. Walking over to Midnight, the staff was plucked from the ground next to her. She then walked over to the opposite side of the akuma and held the staff in front of her. “Resume!” As soon as time started to flow again, she pressed the button on the staff and sent it straight onto the only hard spot on the akuma--their left arm. It look like it had been casted before they were akumatized, perhaps that’s where the akuma was hidden? Regardless, it was being used to fling the concrete creature underneath their own falling dome of concreate. Once they were trapped underneath, she breathed a sigh of relief out. “Uhm....excuse me? New person in the yellow...Can you hand me that clipboard please?” Redbug waved his hand around a bit until she grabbed the fallen charm and tossed it up to him. He just barely caught it, but immediately through it back up into the air with less enthusiasm than usual. His ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ was muttered half-heartedly. Redbug ended up landing on top of Midnight, who wheezed as her breath was knocked right out of her lungs. ‘Quickstop’ could barely contain her laughter. As Redbug retrieved and purified the akuma, she found herself staring into Midnight’s judgmental eyes. “Hey. What kind of Miraculous is that? Where’d you come from? Where’d you get it? I’ve never seen you anywhere before. Did you steal that from someone? How d-” The girl was cut off as Redbug pushed her face out of the way. He rolled his eyes before apologizing on behalf of his ‘overexcited’ partner. “Sometimes she forgets that bombarding people with questions is rude. Whether or not you tell us is up to you, but I can’t say I’m not curious. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t know if you’ve done anything sketchy.” The girl frowned. This wasn’t the ‘greeting’ she’d expected. Neither of them seemed to trust her too much. Then again...they’ve dealt with quite a bit. The sound of another miraculous holder they hadn’t chosen would likely seem a little questionable. Even still, she wanted them to know they could rely on her. “It’s okay, I understand....If I met a random person like this I’d assume they were weird too.” She tried to choose her words carefully. “You can probably tell from the spots, but my miraculous is the cheetah. I can’t tell you where I got it from, but I didn’t steal it. It was given to me, probably the same way it was given to you...” She watched their eyes grow more serious, but continued when they didn’t say anything. “You’ve never seen me before, because I’ve never made myself seen. The cheetah is really, really dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands. If I threw myself out into every battle, the chances of it getting taken would skyrocket.” “Makes sense...” Midnight nodded, her ears flopping with every tilt of her head. “But why did you jump in now? We totally had that guy under control. If I had a few more seconds I totally would have gotten us free.” The question was inaudibly answered, just the look from Redbug made the red head shrink back with nervous laughter. The sound of beeping filled the air, then another, then a third time. The little group were nearing their times for detransformation, so ‘Quickstop’ decided to start taking a step back. Redbug grabbed her arm. “Wait. If you ever come back, there’s just one condition on working with us.” She looked at him nervously, hoping he wouldn’t ask something impossible like her identity. Thankfully, he let go of her arm and just smile. “For gods sake, find a better name.” ~~~~~ “That was awesome! We should do this more often, wouldn’t it be fun? I think it’s fun! Cassandra, Cassandra--are you even listening to me?” The yellow and black kwami was floating around the girls head, tugging on one of her afro puffs. Cassandra was definitely not paying attention, brown eyes scanning through something on her phone. It took him floating in front of her screen to get her attention. “Huh?” “Excuse me, your kwami is very tired and very HUNGRY! We just had the best time ever and now you won’t even look in my direction.” He crossed his arms into a frown, green eyes looking irritated but it was hard to be intimated by a kwami with a candy wrapper stuck to his ear. With a bit of a smile and a chuckle, she lifted the wrapper off and tossed it into the trash bin just outside the alley she’d detransformed in. “Sorry Paxx, I got a little distracted. I was looking at the news for a second. Nana said it was supposed to rain and I still have to pick up more flour. I’d never forget about you, I hope you don’t think any less of our friendship.” After putting her phone back into her pocket, Cassandra adjusted the tongue of her converse after giving the kwami a quick pat over the head. Seeing as he was satisfied with her answer, she pulled a jerky stick from her purse and handed it to him. As she walked back out onto the streets of Paris, he hid inside her purse with his snack clutched to his chest. The sky was turning an ugly gray and black color as storm clouds began to form overhead. While she could hear the thunder in the distance, there were no signs of rain just yet so she walked towards the small grocery nearby.

It was nothing fancy, just an old shop run by an older couple who’d always been in Paris. They were always nice to the customers who came by, and the prices were reasonable. Most of the goods by the counter were made fresh by the owner’s wife, others by local shops. Cassandra would have loved to search for the grocery’s cat, but knew she didn’t have nearly as much time as she would have wanted. After picking up the biggest bag she could find, she paid at the front desk before leaving through the side door. She definitely should have gone to the grocery before that movie. There was now a downpour outside, making everyone either run indoors or search for their umbrellas. Cassandra didn’t have time for either. “You’re not seriously thinking about walking in the rain, are you? Its a ten minute walk back to the restaurant--we’ll get soaked!” Paxx whined, popping his head out from the front pocket of her bag. She patted his head with a finger and a grin. “You say that like you’ll be getting the worst of it. Relax, there’s plenty of canopies out to keep us dry.” Ignoring his protests, she untied her jacket from her waist and pulled it over her shoulders. Once the hood was over her head as much as possible, she ran out from under the canopy and dashed across the street. Rain sloshed at her feet, flicking up her legs and making her shiver. Why did it have to be so cold? By the time she stopped in front of the Italian restaurant, she was drenched and panting heavily. Her shirt was heavy on her, soaked to the point where the gray had turned to black. Even her shorts were sticking to her legs at this point, making an uncomfortable feeling every time she walked. Her shoes were definitely going to need a quick wash, covered in mud up to the laces. “Good heavens Cassandra, you’re going to get hypothermia!” A tall man dressed in a black apron opened the door, sauce all over his uniform and the smell of oyster coming off of him. “Sorry dad, I didn’t realize it was going to rain that soon.” She quickly ran inside as another crack of thunder sounded, shaking the ground just a bit from its power. “Geez, I’ll be surprised if the power doesn’t go out.” “I hope not, everyone ran inside for cover. They're cold and hungry. Hurry up and dry off, your mother needs help in the kitchen.” Cassandra couldn’t help but sigh a bit to herself, rushing up the stairs and hoping not too many of the customers would stare. Their house was just behind the restaurant, and her grandfather had long ago built an entranceway to it from the top floor of the restaurant. It was a business passed down from everyone on her mom’s side of the family, and she hoped she’d be getting it too some day. Although, today was not one of those days. She wanted to spend some time with Paxx rehearsing lines for a musical audition. But she wasn’t going to tell her parents and grandmother ‘no’ during an unexpected rush. She placed her purse on the bed and started changing her clothes into a black shirt and jeans. “Wow, everything is really busy today! I bet the restaurant will get lots of income from it.” Paxx flew around her bedroom in hopes of finding something to do while she would be away. “Since when were you interested in the restaurant?” She raised an eyebrow as she put non-slick shoes on. “Since Nana Rose said I could eat the leftovers after everyone went to bed.” He snickered to himself, stomach growling at the thought.

Of course she did.” Cassandra found herself rolling her eyes. Even though she was Paxx’s holder, she often found him getting spoiled by her ninety-year old grandmother. Her grandmother was the current guardian of the miracle box Paxx was connected to, and was the only one in her family that she could talk to about everything. While it was nice to have someone to tell everything to aside from Paxx, she hated having to lie to her parents and younger sister. She knew they would love Paxx and the other kwamis, but it was too dangerous. “I’ll be back in a few hours, feel free to go say hi to the others if you want.” As she shut the door, she could hear the faint happy squeal of Paxx as he flew into the secret pipes running through the house and restaurant. The restaurant was definitely overcrowded for a Tuesday. People were still streaming in, ordering only the hot items in hopes of giving comfort to their soaked bodies. Cassandra found herself working in the kitchen, making pastas and pizzas from scratch. Everything they served was from scratch, which was why they were so popular. The day soon turned to night, and the hours dragged on like days. Around 5:30 in the evening, Cassandra switched with her father and started serving tables. One table sat two people, a girl with her long, red hair in a braid and a silver and blue-haired boy who appeared to be a few years older. When Cassandra came over with her notebook, they both smiled. “Sorry I took so long to get your drinks here. Can I get any appetizers?” She tapped the pen against the notebook as the boy ordered for the both of them, the girl seemingly shy. “Two orders of the camembert cheese bites, and mozzarella sticks.” As she scribbled it down and went to place the order in, she said a silent prayer for her poor father who would have to deal with all the cheese. It was a popular appetizer, and he absolutely hated it, but it was unthinkable to remove it from the menu. With the rush pretty much over, she was able to return to her room soon after serving one last table. Her feet were hurting from the constant movement, and her head throbbed with a headache. Sighing, she elected to wait on telling her grandmother about her ‘heroic’ activities. -----

Whew, took me forever to get the motivation to actually write it lolol I won’t tag it, seeing as there won't be much mention of any canon characters--at least not for a while. It’s just something I enjoy writing.

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scripted-dalliances · 5 years

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Rest In Peace: Chapter Five

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 5

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

A/N: There is a very bastardized version of Buile Shuibhne, or what Mad Sweeney is based off, in this chapter. I admit to just reading the wikipedia article on it. Judge me, for I judge myself.

“A tale may have exactly three beginnings: one for the audience, one for the artist, and one for the poor bastard who has to live in it.” -Catherynne M. Valente

If she says believe one more time, he was going to pop a boner.

He doesn't even remember the last time someone believed in him, that knew his story. Not just faith in the little people, but who he was. Before all that, his own history has been muddled by time and twisted into tales by those who wanted to demonize his kind. The truth was, he didn't even know where to begin. Usually he only thought about it when he was drunk as hell, and alone.

Never has he shared it with a mortal, with no faith in her heart.

But she's lookin' for it, she's searching for a reason to try ain't she?

It was better than nothing.

It was better than a lot of things.

“It's not a pretty lil fairy tale.” He says, giving her a small out. If she insults him, he can use that to change the subject. To push her away.

“Yeah, well I hated Disney as a kid and liked the original Grimm fairy tales more so I think I can handle it.” She replies, not earnestly but frankly. She is not going to play to his ego, attempt to smooth out her personality for him. For one, he would instantly be suspicious of it and for another there isn't much she can hide from Sweeney for whatever the reason.

He knows the truth of her sad life. How miserable she had been just to exist, the stupid things she tried to do to fix that. How she failed.

Mad Sweeney was there at her gory end, the very reason of it and knows her. From her sharp poisonous tongue to her rotted guts, and all the nasty edges in between. Unwillingly, he would say, but he knows it better than anyone else never the less.

He knows the real Laura Moon, and now she's asking to know him.

It's pathetic how he feels a little undone because of it, like she's pulled on some hidden sting that undoes his knotted complex wall of bitterness and exposes his heart. If she was kind, if she was soft with batting lashes he could call her a liar but no. She's Laura McCabe, alright. Tight little frown and dead eyes, looking and demanding for truths from a world that didn't want to share.

She’s takes them anyways.

“You would, wouldn't you?”He sighs, giving in.

“My mother hated it. Actually everyone hated it, I constantly reminded them how those stories really ended. Ariel kills herself, Cinderella's sisters hack their own feet off. Sleeping Beauty wasn't exactly awake to consent. I was the asshole kid who read too much, it's a surprise I'm sure.”

“I've had bigger.”

Laura gives him a smug grin, radiating a mean sort of mirth that makes his insides clench. He hates how much power she has over him already, and they haven’t even started down this dangerous journey.

“That's what she said.”

Sweeney chuckles, because god damn it, he walked into that one. “Aye, alright then. Come on Dead Girl. Let's go find a place in this hell hole to sit down. It's a long tale.”

“Your real name is what?” Laura's laughter cracks through her words, she has to bite her lip -which isn't a good idea because they aren't bleeding as so much leaking but seriously. Who wouldn't chuckle at that name?

“Buile Suibhne was a perfectly fine name in my day!” He defends, but there's a flush along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

She laughs wickedly, but attempts to keep silent. They've literally only just started, his first slice of truth being a name he hasn't been called in decades. Even she is aware that this is delicate thing, and will open the door to other secrets. Laura is greedy enough to want them regardless of price, big or small, she privately likes the idea of getting all of him.

Not in that way, perv. (Not while she's dead as a door nail)

Laura mimes zipping her mouth shut, and throwing away the key. Looking up at him with what she is hoping is a wide eyed expression of innocence. Mad Sweeney Suibhne responds with a look of disgust.

“Stop that, Dead Girl. You look like you're on drugs.”

“Okay...Buile Suibhne.”

“...I regret telling you anything.”

She ends up laughing anyways.

Turns out he really was a king. Long ago and once upon a time, in a different place completely; but this time Laura looks at him while he tells her and believes it. Wishes she could explain it, wishes further still she could tuck away the knowledge of what he looks like when he knows she's listening; it feels like she's stolen something, like she did it with him watching and its so intimate she nearly wants to touch him.

She knows he's real, but the urge is there never the less.

Laura keeps her hands to herself and instead questions him.

“So you really were a King. As like, a mortal guy and they just, what? Made a religion about you?”

Sweeney shakes his head. “Not as simple as that, Dead Girl. Belief doesn't always mean scripture and prayers. It doesn't even have to be truth, because the real truth is that I died. The mortal man that I was, and what I am now isn't half of what left that battle field but in that moment I was what they believed I could be. More than a man, stronger and unbroken. It was better than the truth.” His voice isn't soft by any credence, but it does sound different. Like his accent has got stronger or his tone lighter.

Like he's shed off some weight from his shoulders, and maybe he has.

Laura doesn't say anything at all when he tells her about Eorann. His wife, the only one he has ever taken. Mortal or otherwise.

She merely gets this expression on her face, that reads as constipation but just as easily could be her feeling sorry for him. Which he hates and she seemingly hates to express so he glides over that part.

He doesn't tell her about Eorann's pretty red hair, or cruel smile. About her brazen attitude or the number of children they had.

He doesn't tell her that Essie looked just like her, and that in the right light, Laura does too.

Sweeney has already made vows to himself never to confess these things, because that isn't going to make her trust him. Those aren't anything but weights. Confusing bastard ones, designed to send him mad again. Ain't nothing to put on her shoulders and expect her to deal with.

So instead, he tells her how the cloak Eorann gave him unraveled. How he chased the massive idiot saint around stark naked in the freezing cold of daylight.

Her uneasy expression shifts into delight.

He tells her of the mistakes he made, of his personal war with the churches on his land. Of the curses they laid upon him because of it. Of the fire he saw his death in, combined with the taunting roar of war coming for him. How it all drove him beyond madness, pushed him to lose himself. How he was cursed to become a bird.

“What was it like?” She questions, curious despite herself.

Sweeney shrugs. “Better. Easier. Not a hard life, being a bird.”

He tells her of his flights, of being captured and escaping. How the sad truth was, everyone was expecting more from him than he could give. Even without his madness. A bird, was all he was, cursed besides. Coward down to his bones. Instead of capturing him, they should have shot him down and roasted his fluffy ass.

“And Eorann?”

“I told her to get a new husband.” He admits. “Hardly a marriage if only one person is in it.”

Laura's nails leave an imprint on the meat of her palms.

“Maybe to her there was still two.”

He doesn't have any defense to that, because deep down he knows she's right.

Eorann kept believing in him even when he wasn't able to believe in himself.

“Wait, wait. How the hell is it your fault that she died, not like you pushed her, right? Also, what the fuck. How the hell did you get taunted into a contest of leaping. Is your ego that big that you just have to be the best at leaping? I thought you said you got your sanity back.” Laura needles, only to lean back into her seat, “What the fuck is leaping, anyways?”

“First off, she was a madder bitch than I. And second I was still healing! Third...” He pauses, and she waits several long seconds.

“...you don't even an excuse, do you?”

Sweeney doesn't.

“How the fuck was I to know she was his mother-in-law?”

By the time he has unearthed all his secrets, the sun has set.

Shadow and Ostara are gone while they had chatted, off on their own adventure they both presume. Without so much as a goodbye or note on the fridge.

Sweeney isn't too bothered. He's smart enough to know while the Goddess has so graciously allowed their stay, and offered her own libraries, that doesn't mean they are not being watched by probably a hundred beady eyes.

Laura and Sweeney part ways after story time, he to look for food. Her to think, he assumes. The dead don't need to sleep or eat, and it will take more than his tale for them to trust each other.

It's a start, this sharing, small as it might be. Where he's not just some random asshole to her, and while he wouldn't call them friends he can't say they don't mean anything to each other.

Outside nothing has changed, but he can feel a hint of power returning. Less like strength and more, like he's shed an invisible weighted coat or just took an hour long shower. Refreshed.

Telling Laura about this feeling however, feels like a mistake. Either she'll tease him till kingdom come or she'll think he's being emotionally weird. Which, he can't say he's not.

He's trying his best not to be, because that's not what this is about.

It's about getting her life back. He owes her that.

#mad wife #madwife fic #madwife #mad sweeney x laura moon #mad sweeney #laura moon #laura x sweeney

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coldre-x · 6 years

Text

A new friend (Julian x reader)

Usual evening.

Me, sitting at the 'Rowdy Raven' and listening to usual fights. I usually come here to do my work-tell people's fortunes. Luck here is better. Probably because of the background-everyone here is themselves. Nobody's wearing a mask.

I'm currently flushing cards through my fingers, talking to them in my mind and trying to see the person's in front of me fortune. He seemed to be pretty young, not one of the poor ones, but not one of the very rich ones. He was in the middle, and I just felt more comfortable doing readings for 'middle people'.

"Your card is The Fool"I say once my fingers stop and I put the cards down, taking one out and showing it to the person "It represents innocence, inspiration and freedom. You're a pretty lucky person I'd say"

He thanked and left, leaving a couple golden coins. I sigh and listen more closely to the background. The fight over there seemed to get more extreme and intense. I perked my ears and listened closer:

"You won't beat me!" some thug yelled. I got up and saw the view: almost all tavern was watching two guys fight. The one that yelled was like a huge bear, and the other one was smaller, but still seemed strong. I didn't think, that the small one would beat him. Actually, it was like a little bird versus an eagle. Suddenly, the huge guy jumped onto the small one and pressed him with all his weight. I thought he crushed the little bird guy, but I noticed his limbs moving. He wasn't dead, just squashed to the ground. The fat eagle guy just sat on him and laughed.

I felt anger inside me burn up. I couldn't just sit there and watch the small guy being basically suffocated, and the big one laugh. I quickly jumped in and attacked the bear.

I was lucky enough to pull him down. While he was laying, I helped the little guy get up and escape. Once he did that, I felt someone grab my ankle and pull me on my stomach. I hit my face to the ground and gasped. The bear guy seemed mad.

"You pathetic little thing!" he yelled to my face. I blenched, but rolled out. Bear jumped after me. I twisted my hand and one of his legs was held down, so he fell on his stomach and almost jumped up. I sat on the ground, watching him slowly get up. Then, someone grabbed my wrists and put me on a chair, tying my wrists and legs with a rope.

"You know, little witch, we do have rules. One of them is that we DON'T use magic during fights" and a short gnome-like woman jumped in front of me. I grunted as I tried to escape, but it was useless. The ropes were tied thigtly.

"Don't even try, witch. Merri ties knots like a professional" I heard someone from the crowd yell. I looked around panicking. I tried to cast a simple untying spell, but I was exhausted of before made spells-the tripping one and fortune telling. Yes, it does slightly involve magic.

I suddenly noticed the bear walking to me. His stomach was covered in dirt. I stared at him. I asked him with my eyes 'What are you going to do to me?'

He hit my face hard. I felt my head turn to side forcefully, but I turned my head back once more. And then, another hit welcomed me.

I felt blood run through my face, from my nose, lips. I sighed out sharply and showed him my teeth, saying 'Is that all you got?!'

He attacked harder now. I felt blood in all my mouth. I turned my head and coughed out. A blood splat hit the ground. One more hit and I'll pass out.

The bear was aiming once more, but let his arm down when a loud 'STOP' went through the tavern. The crowd separated like sea to the door. I looked at the end of the crowd. There was standing someone. Someone tall. Someone here to help?

I sat there breathing deeply, while the person started reading a monolog:

"Don't you see, that it's a she?! And based by clothes, I could say, that she's a witch! God help us if she decides to let some kind of a plague on us! Even worse than the Red Plague! And it's unfair! She's all tied up while Grizzly was hitting her!" the person growled out. Based by his voice, I think it's a he.

"But Julian, she was using magic in a fight.." Merri said."Listen, I don't care. Those rules belong to people equal to each other. And she versus Grizzly? No way."

I tilted my head up and looked at the guy. He was walking to me, pulling out a pocket knife and freeing me. I exhaled sharply when he threw me over his shoulder and left.

He carried me to some room, where was a simple couch, some pillows and a fireplace. Seemed like a relaxation place. He put me down on the couch and I rested my arm on the side. My head was banging. I sat up, looking at the fireplace. Julian left, and soon came back. 'Where did I heard that name..?' I started thinking.

When Julian came back, he cleaned the blood from my face and gave me some ice to reduce the blue-eye. I just thanked him.

"No need. I'm Julian, but I think you already know. But I'm pretty interested in your name" he said. Then I gave him a closer look. Now I understood from where he was familiar.

Dr. Julian Devorak

His dark red hair was slightly covering his black eyepatch. A white shirt of his was flowing around. When he fully straightened, I just now understood how tall he was.

"(y/n).. Why are you helping me..?"

"Shouldn't I? I'm a doctor. And that fight.. Well, it was pretty unfair. I'm actually surprised, how you aren't passed out. I've seen older and tougher guys than you drop after one hit. And with you, I could say, there were at least two.." he sighed "What are you doing here anyways? Oracles have nothing to do here." "I enjoy the background here. Surprisingly, it's easier to relax here" I answered. Julian chuckled "I see we have something in common.. Fancy a drink?"

"Depends on which one."

"Tea? Coffee? Maybe something stronger?" he smirked. "The barkeep lets me to take care of things here."

"Coffee" I sighed out. The banging in my head was slowly calming down.

"Ah, we have two things in common now" he chuckled. I smiled. He seemed like a fun guy. And while he was talking about random stuff, usually about the things going around here, I never let my eyes down from him. I examined him. He wasn't only tall and caring. He was pretty smart and handsome either. His character, his aura was totally different than I heard from the legends and stories.

When my coffee finally arrived, it's scent was pretty strong. Even my knocked nose could smell, that the scent was strong. Julian continued telling tales about this side of the town. He knew a lot about it here.

After a couple hours the banging in my head was gone. Me and Jules were talking like old buddies. We've known each other for around four hours, but we felt like it was four years of friendship. I somehow felt this was going to bloom into a big flower.

Soon, I felt Julian falling asleep. Then, I noticed how tired myself I am. And I just put my head on his shoulder and fell asleep also.

I somehow felt that this wasn't going to be a little ordinary flower. It's going to be a huge bush full of rare flowers.

#the arcana #fic #fanfiction #julian/mc #julian devorak

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silhouettesandsalsa · 7 years

Text

June Eleventh

Dan did not like birthdays. He didn’t have anything against the desserts, or the presents, or the scent of birthday candle smoke. He quite liked all of those, actually. One of his first childhood memories was going to his friend Christopher’s third birthday party. He remembered the velvety chocolate cake, and thinking that one day, he would have that same cake on his own birthday. His mother had always bought vanilla cake for birthdays, and he’d never had the heart to say he’d prefered chocolate. But despite all that, he liked nearly all aspects of birthdays.

For other people. Not for himself.

As a kid, Dan had liked his birthdays. Heck, he even looked forward to them, the presents and candy and pinatas. But gradually, as he grew older, he noticed the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Winnie the Pooh themed decor start to disappear, until themed parties were deemed only for “losers.” In fact, it was on his fifteenth birthday that he realized-- he was no longer a kid anymore, and all birthdays did was tell you that you were a year farther away from watching Sesame Street and playing Pokemon, and a year closer to the adult world and boring office jobs and worrying about bank loans and dating, which he thought was disgusting, and inevitably, he realized, death. That day, he excused himself from his French classroom and ran to the boys’ bathroom. He stood in front of the foggy mirror, peering at his pale reflection tinged with green from the faulty bathroom lighting, wondering when he’d suddenly become so old, and exactly when his childhood had slipped from his desperate grasps until it only existed in his memory.

That was why, on June 11th, 2017, Dan did not want to wake up. He had though, a few rays of sunlight beaming in through the windows in his room, shining directly in his eyes.

This, he thought as he pulled the grey covers back over his head, was not a good way to start a day. Having your eyes directly assaulted by a sunbeam. He wished it would rain, or at least be cloudy, as a way of watching his already somber mood. But upon checking the weather app on his phone under the covers, the light illuminating the creases of fabric, he was informed that his birthday was going to be, as he muttered to himself, “bloody brilliant.”

The sky was an exuberant shade of royal blue, with puffy clouds almost resembling marshmallows inching proudly across. The sun was shining brightly, and the birds outside his window were trilling a morning sonata.

“Bloody brilliant,” he repeated. It was as though the entire world wanted him to be happy today, when all he could think about was the inevitability of death. He felt like lying on his bed for the rest of the day, curled into a lump of bitterness and regret.

He knew that at any moment, Phil would come bursting in with some silly cake and party hats, or a messily-baked pan of homemade brownies, or cupcakes from the bakery down the street in some exotic flavor like “avocado” or “mango-chili” or “dark chocolate-bacon.” The thought of Phil brought a small smile to Dan’s lips. Even on days like these, somehow, Phil was always able to make Dan happy. He remembered when he’d been in college, horribly unhappy with his life, in what he liked to describe as his quarter life crisis, and Phil would randomly grab his hand and pull him out of the apartment on mystery outings. Sometimes they’d go buy ice cream cones and eat them in the park nearby. Sometimes they’d buy weird board games from Japan or Italy and spend the night trying to figure out how to play. Sometimes they’d just wander around, their fingers almost touching as they walked side by side. Whatever it was, Phil would always manage to make Dan laugh, even if it was just with a stupid pun.

Dan lay on his bed, letting his eyes shut. His breath became even, and after a few minutes, he was fast asleep again.

Dan woke with a start. He pulled the hot covers off his head and grabbed his phone from his bedside table. It was three o’clock! He’d been asleep for hours! He scrambled out of bed. Phil must be worried sick! He grabbed a pair of dirty jean off the floor and pulled them on over his pajama shorts.

“Phil!” he called as he hurried downstairs to the lounge. His voice echoed off the walls, mixing with his heavy footsteps. He opened the door to the lounge to find… no one. He checked the kitchen. Nothing. Phil’s room. The bathroom. The gaming room. The balcony. Phil was nowhere to be found.

Huh, Dan thought, brewing himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He must be out, he reasoned, pouring coffee into a large mug. He took a sip and sighed. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad. Dan never liked big celebrations for his birthday. He always tried to act happy and upbeat, when really, he just wished that he could sit alone in silence, mourning another year closer to death.

He padded back to the lounge, where he scrolled through Tumblr on his phone. Birthday messages from his friends and followers filled his screen. He sighed and tossed his phone aside. He couldn’t escape from his birthday. Any other day, he’d appreciate those posts, but today he couldn’t stand them. Mindlessly, he grabbed his phone to tap out a thank you tweet to everyone, knowing it was the nice thing to do. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like his somber mood leaked into the tweet as he reread it before posting it. Everyone would notice his lack of enthusiasm, he worried, before realizing it was hard to ever sound enthusiastic over a tweet without overusing all-caps and emojis. Oh well, he thought.

He pulled out the Nintendo Controller and launched himself into a game of Mario Kart, hoping it would take his mind of off everything.

Hours passed.

Dan finally looked up from his hundredth game, realizing it was already six o’clock. Phil hadn’t bothered to text or call or leave any signs. No DMs, no Snaps, nothing.

But as Dan refreshed his Twitter feed, a tweet caught his eye. It was Phil’s. Just random gif of a birthday cake.

Dan thought nothing of it until he noticed Phil had tagged his location. Someplace called “Bob’s Boba.” Dan remembered walking by it a few weeks earlier and agreeing to try a bubble tea from there at some point with Phil. Now, as his stared at his screen, he almost felt betrayed. Sure, it was small, but they had agreed to go together! And now Phil was off galavanting with who knows to get bubble tea!

Dan frowned. Phil wasn’t one to go back on his promises. What if Phil couldn’t help that he was at Bob’s? What if-

No, Dan shook his head. It was too impossible. But what if? Dan bit his lip, and couldn’t help but let the thought flood his mind.

What if Phil had been brought there by a kidnapper? He hadn’t told Dan about any plans he’d had today.

The hairs on the back of Dan’s neck stood on end. Phil, poor innocent Phil. Kidnapped?

Dan couldn’t stand thinking of his best friend being dragged around by some huge thug, tweeting random gifs to make it seem like everything was normal, against his own will!

He should phone the police, Dan realized. His finger hovered over the nine on his phone’s keypad. No, he thought. He wasn’t even sure that Phil had been kidnapped. He would go to Bob’s, he reasoned, to find Phil for himself.

He ran upstairs and quickly changed out of his pajamas and old jeans into a pair of clean, nondescript ones and a shapeless black hoodie. He couldn’t be bothered to be recognized today, not when he was on a mission. He grabbed his headphones, his wallet, and his keys, shoved them into his hoodie pocket, pulled on a pair of worn black Vans, just in case he needed to run, texted Phil a few hundred times with no response, and headed out the door.

He passed the cute hipster cafe, the grocery store, and the Starbucks. After a while, the buildings began to blur together into a jumbled mess. He was sure he was going the right way. Right? He looked up at the street signs, but they all seemed unfamiliar. He turned to his phone to check Google Maps, but suddenly realized, to his dismay, that he was over his monthly data limit, only eleven days in. He muttered curses to the sky, which, he noticed, was looking grayer than before. In fact, it looked positively cloudy, the cheery sun from before blotted out by ominous masses of cloud.

It started raining a few minutes later. Dan groaned, cursing his earlier self for wishing it would rain. This wasn’t a light rain, either. At first it was a few drops, but then, just like that, it was pouring. Dan was soaked to the bone in an instant, water sloshing around inside his drenched shoes. He shivered in the dark light, ducking under awnings in an attempt to keep dry. His teeth chattered, his hunched figure dripping and dark. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his fingertips grew freezing in his pockets. The rain stung his arms, coming down almost sideways in the wind.

Finally, he came to a street called Borrows Avenue, which sounded familiar. He could’ve sworn Bob’s was nearby, so he picked a direction and walked in it for a while, hoping he was going the right way. After a few minutes, a glowing neon sign came into view up ahead.

“Bob’s Boba.” Dan grinned, breaking into a run. He flung the foggy glass door opened to find a nearly empty shop. A woman with blue hair stood at the counter, a few years younger than him, looking boredly at her phone. A pretentious-looking older man sat by the window, stroking his pointed beard and scratching away in a small leather notebook. Beside those two, they were alone.

“Um, excuse me?” Dan approached the woman at the counter. She looked up, snapping gum in her mouth, and raised an eyebrow, as if to say “what do you want?” Dan bit his lip and continued. “I was just wondering if you’d seen a tall guy come in here, about my height, with uh, black hair? Blue eyes? Pale skin?”

“Nah,” she mumbled through her gum. “I didn’t see no one lookin’ like that come through here.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, or as thoughtful as one could look while blowing bubbles with their gum. “Wait, actually. Black hair, right?” Dan nodded. “He left, like, twenty minutes ago, or somethin’. He was with a tallish guy and a shorter woman. Blonde, I think. They went that way.” She pointed out the window.

The man sitting in the corner looked up from his work. “I could’ve sworn they went thataway!” He gestured in the other direction.

The two argued for a few minutes while Dan used the Wifi to check for new tweets. Indeed, Phil had tweeted another gif, this time a bowtie tying itself. Again, he’d tagged the location, somewhere called “Pixel.” Dan loaded Google Maps, thanked the woman as she yelled, “No, you’re wrong, you bloody twit!” at the man, and hurried out the door.

Another ten minutes in the rain and he arrived at the store. It was a video game store that Dan made a mental note to return to. Again, he asked the cashier if he’d seen Phil. Again, the guy described the same group of people as the woman at Bob’s, and directed Dan in their direction. Again, Dan checked Phil’s tweets and found another gif. This one, however, was not tagged with the location. Dan sighed with defeat as he stepped out into the rain. Phil, wherever he was, was definitely not kidnapped, and was obviously avoiding Dan. Surely he’d gotten his hundred texts! Surely he knew!

Dan wandered dejectedly home. What was he even doing with his life? Twenty six whole years of what, chasing his friends who clearly didn’t want to be found? He sighed. Another birthday went wasted. Dan hated birthdays, but even he couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit annoyed with his friend. Deep down, he knew that he really didn’t hate the silly cakes and streamers and party hats. Deep down, he liked knowing that his friends cared, even if he didn’t like knowing he was a year older.

Dan was shivering by the time he reached his building. He rubbed his red nose, thinking about Phil on the elevator ride up.

Phil was the one person he knew he could depend on. Phil, who would bring him little gifts without any real reason. Phil, who had supported him for years. Phil, with his clear blue eyes and brilliant laugh that could light up any room. Phil, who, Dan realized, he desperately wanted to be with. He wanted to spend his birthday with Phil, he realized. He wanted to spend today with Phil, and tomorrow with Phil, and, he realized he sounded a bit like a strained fanfic writer, everyday with Phil. He couldn't erase those eyes, that smile, those eight years of companionship. And yet… he thought, as the doors opened to his floor, there was something missing. Some little piece of the puzzle that was Dan and Phil… gone. Had it ever been there? He trudged to the apartment door, dripping, sultry, and alone.

A sliver of light shone onto his feet from under the door. He must have left the hall light on. He pushed the key into the lock, leaned into the door, and…

“SURPRISE!” The light blinded him for a moment, and suddenly Dan realized he was facing his friends. There was PJ and Chris and Louise and Cat and Joe and Alfie and Casper and even Tyler Oakley in the back. And then, popping up right in front of him was Phil. His glowing face, his shining blue eyes, his dark hair falling in his eyes. And suddenly, Dan grabbed Phil into a huge hug. Phil, his Phil, had been planning all this for him! Phil leaned in Dan, even though he was getting wet from Dan’s jacket.

They both pulled away after a moment, realizing their hug had lasted a little long.

“Happy birthday, Dan!” Phil grabbed Dan’s hand. It was warm and reassuring. Dan was too busy grinning to speak.

“Thank you guys so much!” He finally said after a moment of standing there, awestruck. As his friends started to mingle and chatter, Phil explained that he, Louise and PJ had gone to Bob’s and Pixel to get presents, and to get Dan out of the house so they could set up for the party. It touched Dan that Phil had done all this for him.

The party started to wind down a few hours later. Dan’s friends stood in small clumps, talking and eating slices of rich, velvety chocolate cake. (How Phil had known that Dan loved chocolate cake, Dan had no idea. Lucky guess, he assumed with a smile.)

Dan had wandered away from the friendly conversations and up to the second floor with the balcony that looked out over the city. The rain had stopped, but the scent still lingered in the night air. Dan sighed, staring up at the huge, glowing moon. A few small clouds scuttled across it, but otherwise, the night was clear. The stars formed criss-crossing constellations above, and the street lights did the same below. For once in his life, Dan felt truly happy. He hadn’t known this feeling in a long time. He wasn’t worrying about the future or wishing for the past. He was thinking about now. He was living in the moment, like Phil had to always remind him to do.

The door creaked open, and as if on cue, Phil slid onto the balcony beside him. Neither one of them said anything for a while, but instead, they stared out at London in silence, their shoulders touching.

“Beautiful night,” Phil finally remarked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of like you,” Dan blurted out before he could think. He blushed, looking away.

“Or you.” Dan looked back at Phil, surprised. He’d never really been the flirty type. They were flirting, weren’t they? Dan’s heart began to flutter without any reason to. He didn’t need to be nervous around Phil, right?

“Thanks so much for everything, Phil. I mean it. The party, the cake, everything,” Dan looked into those familiar blue eyes for a moment before he realized the were getting closer to him.

“How about this?” Phil’s voice softened as he leaned into Dan. They grew still for a moment, their lips almost touching. Then, as if he’d played out the moment many times in his head, Dan brought his lips onto Phil’s. It was so natural, their bodies intertwining together, their hearts beating as one. They finally pulled apart, smiling and blushing. Their fingers remained intertwined.

“I should probably go back inside,” Phil smiled up at Dan. “They’ll wonder where we are.”

“I’m going to stay out here for a moment,” Dan beamed back. Phil shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Dan to stare up at the sky. For some reason, his cheeks ached, and then he realized it was because he was grinning so hard. He brought his fingers up the his lips. He could still feel the pressure of Phil’s lips upon his own. The puzzle that was Dan and Phil was complete. He laughed out loud, knowing he was the only one who could hear it.

And that was how, on Dan’s twenty-sixth birthday, on the balcony on a flat in London, on a cool summer night, Dan suddenly realized-- he had loved his birthday.

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writestufflj20 · 7 years

Text

El Massacre De Usulutan

“Civil Wars are brutal” he said looking around the empty, serene parking lot where the cars of college students along with others sat silently with the tall trees surrounding the area. We could hear the birds chirping along the distance while from afar we saw a group of students playing basketball as the sound of laughter left them. He took a quick glance at them, staring at them as he was reminded of what he had experienced and proceeded to say the following words in Spanish: “It’s horrible when you have to go to war with your own people”

At first glance no one would suspect that Santiago Romero was at one time a captain for the Salvadoran army. He had served more than 8 years in the 6th Brigade (one of the top two dangerous Brigades in the army), commanding over 80 soldiers and participated over 60 missions during his time in the Salvadoran army. He was now a pizza delivery driver for Johnny's Pizza, 80 pounds heavier and 30 years older than he was during the war.

But what was more bizarre about Santiago was his composure. He had seen six of his friends killed in front of him and saw even more strangers die under his command, yet he had a very kind and inclusive manner in the way he spoke, devoid of any sort of trauma he had experienced.

Yet there was nothing kind about the War. The Salvadoran Civil War was an event in which El Salvador, the smallest country in Central America, saw its government engaged in battle against a communist paramilitary group called the FMLN (Frente Farabundo Martí para la Liberación Nacional) who sought out to destroy an oligarchical government that had exploited a poor populace for several decades. The FMLN, inspired by a wave of communism that had been building up since the end of the first World War and Vladimir Lenin’s Bolshevik revolution, saw itself in a war proxied by the Soviet Union and the Americans during the Cold War. Over 75 thousand people were killed in the duration of the war.

Santiago remembers a time before the war happened.

“It was nice compared to what transpired,” he said, crossing his arms and stoically looking ahead reminiscing his life before the war.

“We used to be called “The Sweden of Central America”. Life back then was a lot like here: not perfect but decent. Livable. There used to be this bridge, “El Puente de Oro” (The Golden Bridge) the biggest and most beautiful bridge in all of Central America.’

He looks at me moving his index finger from one side of an imaginary landscape of El Salvador to the other.

“That bridge would go from one side of the country to another. A tourist attraction and a convenience for most Salvadorans who happened to live in the far north or the far south of the country. The FMLN blew the whole thing up in an instant, gloating about it the next day on public radio.”

Santiago quickly learned the ferocity of the FMLN guerillas when he was first deployed in Usulutan, a department on the south side of the country that was infamous for it’s powerful influence over the department. Santiago’s met his wife, Louisa, in Usulutan where she was raised and lived in until she was 23:

“I remember when I was about 8 my dad worked in a shop that was owned by a man named Schafik Handal. He was a tall man by salvadoran standards, looked like he came from the Middle East with his brown crusty skin and long Castro beard. One day I went to visit my dad at work and Handel was there and treated me in a very nice way. Almost ike if I was his own daughter. I thought to myself at the time, “What a nice man”. I told my mother and I remember she and my dad fighting because of that. It wasn’t until my mother later told me that I found out that Schafik Handal was one of the four leaders of the FMLN.”

Santiago was still in the academy when he arrived in Usulutan. He was 22 at the time, and given that he was one of the few salvadorans to enrol in a military academy he was quickly promoted to teniente and was tasked to find 24 random cabos (grunts. Soldiers who either enlisted or drafted in the army) to protect a small power station that was a few miles away from the capital city Usulutan (same name as the department). After three weeks that Santiago and his men stayed protecting the objective the guerillas finally attacked early in the morning from the north side of the small barricades and shacks that they built a few meters away from the power station. The sound of machine gun fire and bombs roared. Santiago woke up in hysteria, in the room where he slept there were two guards who would take turns to patrol their teniente and right next to his shack there was a radio operator who was tasked to serve as a channel between Santiago and HQ. The three men left and immediately proceeded to met up with the radio operator in hopes of calling reinforcement. As Santiago ran outside from his shack in a brief but long moment he scouted his surroundings to see who was outside fighting against the guerillas. He saw no one, but a man with his head hanged back on the driver seat of a jeep with a bullet in his forehead. He had no time to process the man’s death. Santiago knew that he would die if he did.

The radio operator was an overweight man who was a tad older than Santiago was. He had connected Santiago with his Captain and Santiago pleaded for reinforcement to come as soon as possible. Santiago shook his head and laughed when he told me this part of the story in the car. “He said they would come in five hours.” he said, smiling to hide his ferocity. “That fucking idiot wanted me to wait five hours knowing that I lost control of my squad and that the guerillas were minutes away from overwhelming our forces.”

“Did he say anything else?”, I asked.

“Yeah, he did. He said I should die fighting for the flag. I told the operator to hang up that idiot and that we were leaving. I wasn’t going to die that day. None of us were”

As Santiago and his men prepared to leave they ran into a medic who had been shot on his right arm. They all decided they were going to leave. Nobody said anything in preparation for their escape since they all knew that the guerillas were coming from the north side and that they should escape towards the south and escape through the jungle. As they prepared to leave, a voice roared from miles away, “Ey Cabos! Dalos a tu chaqueta verde y vamos a dejar te libre ok!” (Hey, Cabos! Give us your green jackets and we’ll let you go ok!) “Second lieutenants often wore green vests to show that they were second lieutenants”, Santiago informed me. “The guerillas were essentially telling my men to give me up”

But nobody listened and all of them started their escape. It was three miles of nothing but plain land until you reached the jungle. All the men started sprinting not looking back but only hearing the sound of bombs and guns echoing behind them. Santiago remarks that though it probably took them a little more than 20 minutes to make the run it felt much more quicker. They could feel and hear the sound of the bombs and guns getting closer to them and that instigated the adrenaline in their bodies to take over. In the military basic training had prepared these men to have the endurance to make such a run. Or so he thought.

As they reached the jungle Santiago quickly tried to see the state of all his men, and noticed that one of them had passed out a few meters behind them. He ordered two of the men to go help him but the man wasn’t getting up. When the soldiers brought him to Santiago he remembered they were telling him what had happened to the man, but he didn’t need to listen for he saw what they were saying. The man’s eyes were rolled back into his head. Only seeing the white of his eyes; the radio operator’s mouth was wide opened as if he were still screaming. “He died.” Santiago said quietly. “He was a fat guy. He probably had a heart attack, but his face was….” He paused and proceeded to take a drink from his water bottle and told me with a innocent smile, “I really don’t like remembering that.”

Santiago instructed his men to hide the body and take the radio he had around his neck. He had no time to be shocked, he had to keep going inside the jungle.

The men knew that in the other side of the jungle there was a road that would lead them directly to the capital city. As they entered they hit a massive wall of earth that had elevated the ground to about 20 feet. Right next to the wall there was a dried up steam that they knew led to the road since Santiago and one other man had seen it from the map. Taking the stream would’ve been the easier path, it cut through diagonally and the stream’s surroundings had been constructed to act as a pathway to reach the road for any lost wanderers in the forest. But Santiago didn’t trust it. His experience in the academy taught him something that the other men didn’t learn in the barracks. “Think like your enemy”. Santiago thought that it would’ve been too easy to take the stream and decided to climb the wall and travel on the elevated landscape led through the neck of the jungle. Two of the three men protested and went to the stream, the medic decided to go with Santiago for unknown reasons.

He sat next to me and we saw that the students had left the basketball court. He continued to stare at it and continued his story;

“Both of us kept walking for 13 hours. The medic kept complaining and calling me an idiot kid who didn’t know what the hell he was doing.” He reached for his water bottle and took another sip from it. He cleaned around his mouth with a napkin that he kept in the glove compartment of the car. He took a deep breath and continued.

“We reached the road and stopped a car that had been driving along the way. I occupied his vehicle and drove to the capital with the medic. There we reached the nearest hospital in the capital city that had been taken over by the military. There I found my captain. He yelled at me for leaving my post and the objective. I was suspended for 6 month after that and didn’t get to graduate with my class.”

“What about the other two guys? Did they make it?”

He didn’t smile this time. He looked down and with a heavy tone said:

“I never heard or saw from them ever again.”

Santiago Romero and Cannilo Guiterrez were the only two soldiers who survived what would later become known in the Salvadoran press as “El Massacre de Usulutan”.

WRITTEN BY KEVIN GONZALEZ

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aerostoriesforyouall · 4 years

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The Boy Gives Life &... (ep. 5 part 2)

Part 2

The cupid then dodges a poisonous dart shot by Sayuri, who, because Julia had her back turned to the blowgun owner, she had no more fear, and then tries to fight.

- Ah, look at that, a little girl is trying to fight against mOOPS! – the cupid flies higher to avoid being touched by Charlie – Almost forgot about you!

“Androval, the cupid”, then prepares na arrow, and shoots Charlie, who tries to protect himself with his arm, but ends up being hit by an arrow in his arm.

- Charlie! – Sayuri shouts, getting distracted by a moment and stopping shooting her darts, also being hit in her leg by na arrow, not being able to avoid it, and falling to the floor – Gah! Damn!

She takes off the arrow.

- It’s no use, gal, you guys were already infected... – Androval flies away, going to the second floor while talking – I’ll leave you two love birds alone...

- Damn damn! No! – Sayuri says in loud voice out of anger – I still don’t wanna fall in l...

- Charlie! Stop! – says Lacinho.

Sayuri, with a LOT of anger, gets up and screams with the boy:

- I DON’T WANT YOUR LOVE!! GO AWAY!!

Charlie backs up a little, with his hands together and with a frightened expression... and then the human girl realizes something, saying:

- Wait a minute... I’m not feeling love for him... only anger...

- Wait! Julia! Where are you going?! – shouts Lacinho, trying to stop her owner’s leg, but not being able to stop her. The doll notices that until this all is solved, Julia would be “zombified”... – That jerk...

- Lacinho! For some reason the cupid’s arrow didn’t work with me – says Sayuri, almost abandoning Charlie.

- Yeah, I didn’t notice that, Sasa, but I just want to make a question... – Lacinho seemed disappointed and in disapproval of Sasa – Why did you kept standing and didn’t help me stop my owner and Rodrigo...?

- I ehh... – Sayurifelt bad for not helping, buta t the same time ashamed of something...

Lacinho then notices she shouldn’t have questioned...

- I-I’m sorry Sayuri... – says the doll – It’s ok, I’m not angry at you...

- Don’t worry, it’s because all of Julia’s make up reminded me of something...

- Well, my owner’s face was indeed weird, you know, it looked like a... – the doll then understands – You... you are afraid of...

- Yes, I have Coulrophobia...

An arrow sticks on the ground, at the side of the doll, scaring her.

- Dammit, I missed – says the cupid from above; trying to shoot a poor little girl who was running away from him.

- HELP ME!! THIS MAD MAN IS SHOOTING ARROWS AT ME!! – the girl was running and screaming for help.

- Ok, we gotta do something... – says Lacinho.

- You are right, bestie – says Sayuri, picking the arrow that hit her, and trying to twist it – Oh, I’ll beat that cupid so much, you will see... damn, this arrow is hard as heck...

Clearly she was angry... this is even more evidente when she harshly throws the arrow at the ground. The girl picks a lollipop, and starts to consume it.

- ‘We should hol hands’ – Charlie tries to say.

Lacinho gets surprised, while the girl brutally bites and destroys the lollipop.

- Excuse me, ehh... what the hell have you said, you brat...? – Sayuri angrily asks.

- Charlie, this ain’t the time for joking, you know – says the doll.

- ‘To blend in’... – he clearly was afraid of her, but at the same time showed he was sure of what he said...

- Wait a minute, repeat what you said, dude... – says Sayuri, who had understood more or less what he meant; while approaching him.

- ‘To... bl... end... in... – Charlie clearly felt even more intimidated when she was closer.

- Speak up, man, I’m not going to beat you, relax.

- I think he suggested holding hands to blend in – Lacinho tries to help the boy.

- Is that so, dude? – she asks to the scared little guy...

He shyly agrees with his head.

- Heh, you aren’t as innocent as you seem to be, heh, little friend... – Sayuri harshly grabs his hand, and starts to take him in their classroom’s direction.

- Wait a minute there, guys, I ain’t as fast as you, you know – says Lacinho.

- Oh yeah, sorry there, friend, wait a minute – Sayuri prepared her bag to carry the doll...

Meanwhile, Charlie looked at his hand that Sayuri was holding... he felt something inside his chest again... something good...

- Hey! Fool! – says Sayuri, calling his attention – Wake up there, we need to plan something for all of this forced love in the air stops.

- Ah... – he indeed “wakes up”.

- Charlie, since you gave life to that cupid... – says Lacinho, in the human girl’s bag – Do you know some weakness of him?

- Uhh... ‘w...ell...’

- Charlie, the longer you take to think, more people will be h...

The bell for the start of the classes ring; interrupting Sayuri...

She sighs, and says while taking the boy in the classroom’s direction:

- Forget it, man, let’s plan this while in class, and I do wanna see you put your brain to work, alright??

- Wait a minute, and about my owner?? – asks Lacinho, worried.

- What is it? She probably must be on a date with Rodrigo; probably she just gave him some kisses or something al...

- Ah, like heck that my 8 year old owner will kiss someone – Lacinho starts to go out from the bag.

- Hold it, isn’t it better if we stay together to plan something against the cupid? – Sayuri questions.

- I do understand it, friend, but I can’t let my owner be in danger ya know – the doll jumps from the bag, and finishes – Also keep in mind, I can try to reverse their love in some way, and if I find out how, I warn ya... but for now, sorry for that, bestie, I can’t just leave my owner be in a possible danger, you know...

- Well, you got a point there... ...good luck, Lacinho...

They go to diferente directions...

Sayuri takes Charlie to the classroom, and sits next to him; and as it was expected, there were a lot of couples giving little kisses...

- How does people find this cute? I just feel bad for all of those random couples that cupid forced – Sayuri thinks with herself.

Meanwhile. Lacinho walked around the school, searching for her owner; some of the couples were going to their classrooms while holding hands; and other that just ignored the bell, and kept dating... the most disturbing couples were probably the pre-adolescents... something that worries even more the doll, who thinks with herself:

- This is just so wrong, irgh, I cannot allow that Rodrigo kisses my owner or... approaches too much... brrr, gross! But there is only one problem...

She looks at the students and then to herself, finishing her thoughts:

- I’m just a doll...

She then notices the arrows that have hit Sayuri; they were still there... this gives the talking toy na idea...

- Common, there must be a poison in those arrows, if there is a poison, no, wait, what if it is some kind of magic, considering Charl-actually, this makes no sense, or does it...? Well, let’s consider that ehh Charlie... – smoke was going out of Sayuri’s head since she was thinking too much.

The boy looked at her, with admiration...

The teacher just wrote the content on the blackboard; and considering the five paper poppers in her desk, she have already tried to stop the students. The couples kept dating, and meanwhile, the ones who weren’t hit by the arrows; considering their faces, they couldn’t take it anymore, or were bored...

it will be continued in part 3

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