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shoyoist · 1 year

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𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 — hanma shuji.

hanma doesn't know why he's so nervous about giving you chocolate on valentine's day. for fuck's sake.

he checks himself out for the seventh time in the reflection of the candy shop's display window, running a hand through the gelled locks of his dyed hair, fixing a strand that had fallen loose. chill the fuck out. he leans back against his motorcycle, hoping to god that he doesn't look awkward as he stands there, holding a heart-shaped box and a bouquet of flowers— starting to feel cold as the sun goes down in the distance, his leather jacket and skinny jeans doing little to protect him from the late winter chill.

like, who cares if this is the first time he's spending a valentine's day with someone? he stares into the lidded, dusty gold eyes of his reflection. and who gives a shit that you're the first girlfriend he's ever had? the first person to ever sway his devil heart, to pull him down from the top of the world and dethrone him of the title of the lone reaper? … and who cares if he was over twenty whole fucking years old when you gave him the first kiss of his whole life?

“shut up,” he'd hissed at hanemiya, who laughed at him while he was hunched over shelves of confectionery, unable to pick something for you. “shut the fuck up, b’fore i knock the teeth outta your fuckin' skull.”

“ooh, would ya really do that, now?” usually, anyone would cower and tremble in their pissy little shoes if the hanma shuji had threatened them like that. but hanemiya hadn't even flinched.

“your little girlfriend might run from you, shuji honey,” kazutora had mocked, using the petname you always called him by. “can't risk that, man. not when she’s the first girl that's ever wanted your flat ass in your life.”

“can it, tora.” hanma had warned, voice low. “for a kid that sat in the class corner and got his shit beat in by every other kid in school, you sure have a sharp fuckin' tongue.”

“ouch.” hanemiya's wince was only fake. “hey, man. we're friends.”

to be fair, hanma had never thought much about love or first kisses or valentine's days, or even relationships in general. he was plenty amused and invested by kisaki's endeavours, sidelining his efforts to win over the woman of his dreams like it was a soap opera.

it was new, unwalked territory, and it made him nervous, made his heart flutter, goddamnit— to be in love with someone himself. and god he's fucking sweating despite the cold, as he stands there as patiently as he can and waits—

“shuji!” your voice calls him from behind, and he ignores the way his face and ears heat up as he turns around to find you. “shuji honey! i'm sorry i'm late!”

you wave at him as you rush over, your shoes clacking over the frosty sidewalk and your scarf fluttering in the breeze. the first thing hanma thinks is oh, fuck— because you're damn pretty, and also because your hands are full. of shopping bags that contain what he can only assume are valentine's day gifts for him.

suddenly, he feels embarrassed. the box of chocolates he spent so much time choosing for you, and the bouquet of roses (one of each colour to signify every kind and stage of love) feel suddenly empty. not good enough.

“hi baby,” he says, voice going rough as he softens it for you. leaning down so you don't have to get on your toes, he allows you to capture his lips in a kiss, parting his lips to give himself a sliver of your taste. “don't worry your pretty little head. i didn't wait long.”

“i went shopping.” you tell him, hanging some of your bags on the handlebar of his motorcycle, trifling through one of them for something. “shuji i knew you'd never dress correctly for the weather, so i made some last minute additions to my gift list and bought you these.”

you pull out a checkered scarf, very long in your hands — and you get on your toes anyway, slinging it around his neck and patting his chest before nodding in satisfaction and going back to the bag for something else. “that, and these gloves!”

you take out a pair of thick, black leather gloves and wait for hanma to finish wrapping his new scarf around his neck, before taking his large hands in yours and pulling the gloves on them for him. “aren't they nice?” you smile proudly, squeezing his gloved hands. “look at the silver buttons! you fasten them like this, and see! they're fitted perfectly.”

“i—” his voice cracks, and he blinks down at you in silence for a moment, feeling warm and fuzzy as you hold his hands in yours. “thank you, pretty doll. i love them.”

“and you better use them.” you huff. “i know you're freezing even now. it's a cold evening. you never learn, shuji.”

“i will, baby.” he has to grin at you then, because you're so fucking cute when you turn your nose up and frown at him, bossing him around like that. “promise.”

“kiss.” you pout, then, and his heart melts. he'd already put his flowers and chocolate down on the back of his motorcycle, so he wraps his hands and arms around your waist, pulling you in and enjoying the warmth you offer as he kisses you, his touch so gentle and tender even to himself. “love you, baby.” he says into your mouth, blushing again when he feels you hum happily against his lips. “i love you so much.”

when you pull away, your gaze wanders off to his motorcycle — and you look up at him, eyes somehow so adorable, sparkly and full of innocent joy. “are those for me?”

“who else would they be for?” hanma chuckles, snatching up the bouquet and chocolate, handing them to you. “happy valentine's day.” the words feel foreign, an inexperienced rasp to them as they leave his tongue.

he watches you hug the flowers to your chest, reading the label on the chocolate box, giggling as you notice your name carefully written in black marker on the pink ribbon tied around it. “it's not much,” he starts, but you don't let him continue.

“i love them, shuji! these are my favourite kind of chocolate— and how did you know to pick these specific colours of roses, hm?” you raise an eyebrow, giggling even as you try to appear skeptical. “i bet kisaki taught you. you wouldn't know a thing about flower meanings.”

it's true — he didn't know. he'd asked kisaki for help himself. his little plant-loving genius of a friend had been delighted to oblige. “hey, don't be mean t’me now.”

“i love them, honey.” you smile, and hanma's heart flutters with the softness of your tone.

he knows you love him. you call him your honey, your sweetheart, your baby — as if he wasn't 6’4, tatted up and famous on the streets for being an on-and-off member of multiple gangs, a wild card and a lone reaper of souls that's never been defeated in a fight.

as if he wasn't quite terrible at giving you his love back. he stares again at his flowers and his measly box of chocolates, before glancing as discreetly as he could at all the bags you'd hung on his motorcycle's handlebar. “so, what's our plan?” he licks his lips. “we can go anywhere you want— name a place, i'll drive us there.”

“aren't you sweet,” you reach up to pinch his cheek. “hm, let's go to my favourite restaurant! you know the one. and after that we can drive around and head to the park you like. we can open the rest of your gifts there.”

fuck. “these all’re really for me?” he frowns at the bags — there are six of them, all tote bags in pretty pastel pinks and yellows.

“mhm.” you nod, utterly unaware of what you do to his heart. “i got you twenty presents!”

“the hell?” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the nape of his neck, puzzled. “why the fuck would ya do that, now?”

“buy you twenty presents?” you blink. “well, i was trying to get you something really meaningful, you know? something special. that's practical but also mmm, sexy — because that's the kind of thing you like.”

“and you had to buy twenty of these … practical and sexy presents.” hanma isn't convinced.

you put the flowers and chocolate into one of the bags and climb onto the back of his motorcycle, rolling your eyes at him. “listen, shuji— i got a little carried away, alright? i'm nervous!”

nervous? you? he walks the few steps required to close the distance between you two once again. “hah?”

“mhm.” you grab at his stomach through his shirt and pinch, earning yourself from him a hiss of pain and a swat from his hand. “i'm nervous, because…” you smile, leaning in like you're telling him a secret. “i have to show you a good time—a little birdie told me this is your very first valentine's day date.”

hanma's embarrassment is evident as he tugs the scarf up his chin and turns his back to you, leaping onto the motorcycle and making it jolt, your panicked squeak and the way you grab at his jacket to steady yourself making him chuckle despite himself.

“hey!” you slap his shoulder, and he ignores you, twisting the keys into the ignition and revving his vehicle up instead. “shuji! you're mean.”

“‘m not.” he scoffs, backing up off the side of the rode and to the yellow line. “you're mean.”

he peeks at one of the mirrors and sees your pretty face twisted into a scowl, and his own face cracks into a smile. “you'd be a real sweetie if you told me the rest of the stuff you got f’me, though.”

“those are surprises.” your scowl lifts, as he pushes off the road with one foot and drives out into the street. you wrap your arms around his waist and press your body to his back, cheek against his shoulder as you let the wind into your hair and relax as he speeds up. “you can guess, though. so funny when you guess.”

“cause i never get anything fuckin' right?” he laughs, and then you laugh too, and hanma feels all warm and fuzzy again. god, he loves you. he loves you so much.

people would assume about a man like hanma, that he wouldn't settle for a first love. he would want experiences! he would want to taste love, passion, regret, heartbreak, unadulterated lust, the poisons and ambrosias of other people— but really, he thinks he can do just fine with just you.

he can do just fine with only your love, your presence, your warmth and your kisses from your lips his whole life. if he wants experiences, he'll have them with you.

“hey.” he says, half hoping his words get lost in the wind— but you hum in response anyway, so he continues. “i know i haven't even opened those presents yet, but thank you. alright? i really do appreciate it, baby.”

he laughs at the end, a little awkward, because fuck— he sounds so stupid when he tries to be serious and express something that isn't a joke.

then you kiss his shoulder, and he feels that warmth and fuzziness all over again. “of course. anything for you, shuji. i'll make sure you feel just how much i love you.”

and god, hanma just might fucking cry. his eyes sting, and he blinks the sensation away before it can build — but he still takes a little too long to reply, takes too long to swallow down the lump in his throat. “i love ya too.”

“shuji,” your voice is teasing, and he feels you tilt your face on his shoulder to look at him better. “you're tearing up, aren't you?”

“baby, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” he smiles anyway, because your laugh is beautiful, and when you push yourself up just a bit to place a quick kiss on his cheek, he turns his head just in time to make it a kiss on his lips. ”now stay put.”

note: inspired by an ask left to me by @vivianette. thank you for the idea, beloved<3 interactions, reblogs & feedback are much appreciated!

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arnold-layne · 2 years

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oh i'm gonna take SO MANY PHOTOS believe me. i'm gonna tie him up reaaal tight, shibari style, fucking rope harness crossing over his chest, leaving his pretty nipples free just for me to play with. i'll get his arms too, behind his back so he can leave all the touching to me and stay still like a good boy, and his legs, spread wide, wide, like he's got no shame (it's probably the case. and if he does have shame i'm gonna fuck it out of him anyway). he'll get whatever's convenient as a blindfold, a scarf or a pillowcase for all i care, and maybe for a nice finishing touch i'll put a nice collar on him, smooth leather and shiny metal ring so i can put the last piece of rope to good use and attach him to the bed. i'd wanna watch him squirm before i even do anything, twitch in his bonds and shift around like he can feel my eyes on him, as he tries to get comfortable. he won't. then i'm gonna have some lighthearted fun, yknow, while he's just here at my mercy and i don't have to worry about mr pillow princess getting pissy because there's a gag right there on the nightstand, and i know it, and he knows it, and we both know it, and if he pipes up more than a pretty little inarticulate moan he'll get silenced. so maybe i'll start out by a few kisses along his neck, his chest. maybe i'll put a little teeth into it. suck up, leave a few fading marks before moving on to somewhere else, along his jaw maybe. and maybe my hand slips and ends up on his dick, somehow. maybe it inches lower and lower while i'm working on his nipples, opening the lube in full stealth so it's kind of a surprise and also kind of awaited when i get the first finger inside him. i'd fuck him so hard that he just passes out dead exhausted while i untie him afterwards, drool dripping down to his chest and all. that's when i disappear for months on end, and starting from when he wakes up after our fun little session and finds a suspicious envelope lying on the nightstand next to the gag i didn't need to use, every few days he'll get a nice picture of himself in the mail. the one where he's sucking my fingers, messy and drooly all over but not quite perfect, with some of his cum still left near my knuckles. the one that's a bit blurry, taken in haste to capture the perfect arching of his back when he's all tensed up in pleasure, the shadow of his eyes visible through the shitty blindfold. the one taken before it gets nasty, just him sitting up pretty with the harness right in the center of the camera, cock up and peeking at the bottom of the frame. the one where his skin reddened, flushed from his cheeks to his chest, all along his neck thrown back to the fingers twisting his nipple. or maybe even the one with the backside view, with his knees wide open and face planted into the bed, entire body pleading for a fill. i wanna start a rumor and leave a few people at every stop of the tour laughing about the silly lies someone's spreading about vince neil just cause he used to be a slut back in the days, the baseless allegations of submissiveness. and every time he catches wind of that remind him that anyone could take it seriously and know what a pretty little toy he is on his free time. yknow. keeping it real for him.

Insert the poetic cinema meme, because at this point your asks are more like poetry bestie. This little boytoy deserves all this that you listed and more. And the photos are the spiciest part of it all, of course, because the act itself is temporary and fleeting, but the photos remain a physical proof and reminder of what happened between you. He burns every photo in fear of being exposed, but you have so many of them you never run out of them, it seems. Every time he thinks it's over, he finds a small envelope in the post. Jeez I'm getting feelings

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soudam-appreciation · 4 years

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Study... date?

Gundam sighed, shrugging his overweight backpack over his shoulder. He had not planned for today to become a social one, though he supposed it was not quite unwelcome. The mortal known as Kazuichi, Tamer of Automatons, had requested his presence here, though for precisely what ritual, Gundam did not know.

Kazuichi leaned back in his chair and rested his legs atop of the table as he inhaled the overwhelming (and honestly, kinda gross) scent of old and new books as he waited for Gundam to hurry the fuck up and get to the library, because he really didn’t have all day.

He perked up, though, when he saw a small flash of purple and black move by one of the bookshelves he sat next to. Souda stood, waving his hands frantically in an attempt to catch the goth boy’s attention, not wanting to call out and cause more of a scene than the literal highlighter waving his hands sporadically like he was at a concert.

The neon blur tugged at Gundam’s peripheral, and he crossed his arms before him. Facing the boy, he began a usual greeting. “At last, you have been found. Do you not fear this meeting, Fool?” His voice boomed and echoed through the stacks, inciting an annoyed rustle and collective whisper.

Kazuichi’s eyes went wide as he started rapidly shushing him, because if him basically jumping up and down trying to get Gundam to notice him didn’t draw attention to the two, Gundam basically shouting definitely did. Speaking as softly as he could considering how badly his heart rate spiked, he tried to get him to quiet down.

“D-dude! Shut- shut the- Don’t! Stop fuckin’....fuckin’ screaming like that! Jesus! Shudda’...shut the- shut the fuck up! Shhh!”

Recollection of the location at hand hit Gundam with a hell-strength impact. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly glanced around, mumbling fractured apologies for his forgetfulness. If there was one thing that would make even the Dark Overlord himself bow, it would be intense embarrassment as a direct result of his own foolishness- not that he would even say such a thing. To allow enemies access to his weakness?! Preposterous. He whispered a short apology to Souda as well, for the mortal seemed far more distraught than he.

Souda groaned softly, rubbing his face with his hands for a few moments before bouncing back almost as fast, a lazy grin plastered across his face. That didn’t stop the drop of malice and embarrassment showing through in his cheerful voice as he pushed out a chair next to the one he was leaning on before to invite Gundam to sit with him.

There were a lot of books, papers, pens and one lone computer scattered across the table. Souda easily pushed these aside as he sat down to take a sip of his…something.

Gundam followed suit, dropping his bag on the floor beside him as he took his seat. He was not entirely sure what they were to do on this day, although crawling deep underground was an option he prayed upon. Unzipping his backpack as soundlessly as he could, he retrieved a notepad and slid a simple message to his companion.

What, pray tell, have you summoned me for?

Kazuichi read it over before snatching the notepad from Gundam’s hand, as well as the fancy pen he had (despite there being many writing utensils of his own he could’ve used, he honestly just wanted to be a bit of a dick to his past rival). He scrawled something quickly on it and slid it back nervously, despite there being no teachers nor rules against slipping each other notes.

ok, well, i asked u 2 come here bc i am fucking failing math and biology and there r these 2 tests cming up i need u 2 help me study for. i thought u’d know a lot abt biology and u seem smart ig so-

He ripped another blank note out to write on more.

-so i thought u could help with, math too. hinata won’t help me he’s mad i spilt monster on his laptop still even though that was a whole day ago :(

The writing was barely legible and Kazuichi seemed to shorten words as best as he could, since he also wrote very large on the small sheet of paper. He slid the second note to Tanaka for him to read.

Squinting, Gundam managed to make out Souda’s print. He sighed, briefly wondering how incompetent Souda actually was, and where to even begin studying. Retrieving his pen, albeit a bit forcefully, he turned to a new page and began his transmission.

Where should we begin? Is there a specific field in which you have little expertise?

As Souda read over the note in the pretty cursive handwriting, he let out a small giggle. He couldn’t help it, reading Gundam’s dumbass Overlord-victorian speak was somehow funnier than hearing it out loud. Snatching the pen and paper back, he started writing.

uh um well i never ever got algebra the little letters always confused me and in biology kind of everything. man i’m not good with that kinda shit like u i’ve seen ur grades you don’t know how 2 whisper when ur flaunting them to sonia lol

Gundham’s ears got hot, and he fidgeted with the end of his scarf. Grabbing his pen, he scribbled out, I do no such thing. I simply share because I am asked, that should be a simple concept to grasp. His scrawl was messier, his haste blurring his senses. Deep breaths stilled his hostility, and he turned to a new page.

So shall we begin with variables, then? You may need to work exceptionally hard to recall these, as no doubt it will be of importance.

Once again, Kazuichi laughed as he watched Gundam get a little pissed at the Sonia comment. Even when they were slowly getting closer, messing with the guy still yielded hilarious results.

come on man!!!! why r u getting so pissy i’m just teasing u. u know i know that u know we aren’t rivals anymore so calm down!!!!! >:3

anyways uhh ya sure we can start w, variables ig. i don’t remember a lot of this stupid ass math lingo so ur gonna need to remind me some of it.

Variables are those “little letters” you spoke of. If something I mention confuses you, alert me at once.

Gundam chose to ignore all of Souda’s previous statement, focusing instead on the task at hand. There did not seem a logical reason to become so frustrated when Souda spoke of her. So why did it ignite a hellfire in his chest?

He shook off the thought, selecting a standard textbook from his oversized backpack and placing it on the table with a thunk. Opening to a page about Variables, the most annoying of unknowns, he slid the book across for Souda’s viewing ease.

We should begin here, page 28. Do you have a journal for notes?

yeah that’s fine also do u mind me keeping our notes or atleast yours please plz plsssss

Sure enough, the smaller boy was already making a pile of the discarded notes they had forgotten about. Mostly Gundams. It was the only neat thing on the table thus far.

Sighing again, Gundam ceded. He had no use for them, anyway. It caught his attention as slightly strange, but he chose to pay it no mind. Scratching out what information he could on such a small surface, he quickly realized that simply would not work. He slid a mostly-empty notebook from his bag and selected a blank page to share with Souda. It wasn’t as if he really needed the pages in this notebook either, so he added a small note at the top offering the torn-out pages for outside studying.

Souda took the page and studied it, before brightly grinning up at Gundam and quickly nodding. This was fancy shit, definitely not something extremely expensive (he knew Gundam definitely wouldn’t dare share that kind of paper, seeing the small slightly-faded stains of car oil on his hands that he just couldn’t scrub out) but Souda probably wouldn’t be buying these things, especially for every class, without at least a week of ramen dinners to make up for the waste of money working at his Dads mechanic shop.

Souda suddenly realized that ‘fancy shit’ to a slightly broke kid like him was definitely not ‘fancy shit’ to Gundam “I don’t know how to dress casually Ever” Tanaka.

Gundam continued to script line after line, attempting to explain these subjects in terms Souda would understand. The look in Souda’s eyes gnawed at him, such excitement on display over some math notes. He wasn’t certain what rubbed him wrong about it, so he brushed it aside. Reaching the bottom of the page, he printed a small question.

Do you still understand thus far?

Souda finally grabbed one of his own pens that lay discarded on the table instead of stealing Gundams.

yeah i get it u explain it a lot better than the teachers or chiaki despite ur little demon talk r whatever lol. chiaki use to help me like all the time but she kept falling asleep on me we never got anything done

Reading Souda’s message tempted laughter, and Gundam bit his cheek to silence it. Nodding sagely, he scrawled, As likely as you are to bend truths pertaining to women, this account does seem trustworthy. He knew just as well as anyone how exhausted Chiaki constantly seemed.

Tugging the newly completed page from its binds, Gundam offered it to Souda as well.

Souda looked almost offended by the note (he still took it, because of course he did) and hastily scribbled another and shoved it in Gundams chest with a grin.

WOW DICK i’m not gonna go after every girl that falls asleep on me!!! sonia hasn’t fallen asleep on me yet and you know!!!!! >:((((((

Gundam stiffened, bandaged hand safely out of sight under the table. If it had been visible, Souda would have a clear view of numb fingers folding against his palm before stretching into claws, over and over. Another deep breath was necessitated by his pounding heart, and he stilled his mind. There was no reason for this feeling. What possible purpose could this rush of adrenaline serve? Certainly nothing pertaining to math. He cleared his throat again, which ended up sounding a bit more like a growl, and took up his pen.

You say “yet”, as if there is even the slightest chance of such an occurrence in the future. This, I do know. A smug smirk crossed his face, daring to settle on his lips.

Souda pouted as he read the note, a somehow adorable sight as he quickly snagged Gundams pen again (once again ignoring his own) and scrawled something on a new note and shoved it back to him.

nuh-uh! u don’t know shit. unless u can see the future!!! tell me tell me tell me. maybe ur freaky demon shit is real after all ANYWAYS do i end up w miss sonia plz please tell me??!?? :3

Gundam tasted blood as he bit his lip hard. Why was Souda so insistent on her? No, he knew why. She was aesthetically pleasing to someone like him. This was not new information, but it still irked Gundam like hell. He pursed his lips. The last thing he was going to do was tell Souda his pathetic simpering dreams would come true in the end. Or perhaps, the last thing he wanted would be to admit to Souda that he cannot truly see the future? Grumbling, he snatched his pen back and tapped it against his knuckles. Neither option was preferred, though one was a clear admission of weakness…

He settled on a third choice. Of course not. I know precisely who you shall fall for in the end, although I cannot tell you. That is the Law of Causality.

actually it’s the law of cASSuaslity because ur an asshole who the fuck cares why can’t u just tell me!!! if i don’t get with miss sonia or whatever u say i don’t even know if i completely believe ur bonkers shit why can’t u just tell me their name or anything i just!!! want a hint. please

Kazuichi’s handwriting grew sloppier as he grew more desperate. Why the fuck was Gundam hiding it? It’s not like he’s gonna get suspended for some random ‘law’ or whatever he probably made up. He didn’t even know what the word Causality meant but it sounded exactly like a freaky word Gundam would say.

All I may tell you is that… Gundam paused, wiggling his pen between thumb and forefinger to come up with an excuse. …you have likely already made their acquaintance. All trace of smugness had dropped from his features, now replaced with stale indifference. He locked his worry deep in his chest, buried it. The last thing he needed was Souda to call him out on such a ridiculously big lie.

Souda didn’t know why, but he grinned at that. He grinned at a lot of dumb shit, and Gundam telling him some vague dumbass answer like that was apparently dumb enough to get on his list of Dumb Shit That Made Him Grin. He flicked Gundams note into his ever growing pile and chugged the rest of his drink, his eyes blown wide with the sudden rush of, apparently, sugar. He tapped the textbook again, trying to remind them both to stay on task. His hands were starting to shake too much from the sugar high to make writing any good.

Gundam nodded. They needed to focus on the task at hand.. Which was math. Boring math. Another sigh settled in his chest, and he thought fleetingly on how he would much rather talk about silly magic business. Shaking dramatically dual-toned hair from his eyes, he set to scribbling some more numbers. Stupid, boring numbers.

Kazuichi watched with interest as Gundam quickly drew out complex strings of numbers and occasional letters. However, his mind quickly drifted as well as his eyes. Higher and higher until he was watching Gundam’s facial expressions shift as he tried to help Souda. How he bit his lip as he hesitated before continuing to keep writing, how his eyes narrowed, Souda half-mindedly thought of how pretty Tanaka’s eyes were, he could get lost in them if he really wanted to, and he did. So he simply tuned out the sound of pen against pencil, rustling of paper and the occasional whisper between others in the library and just stared into his eyes.

Sliding another page across the table, Gundam glanced up at Souda’s face, before they quickly flicked away. On the quickly growing list of things he did Not Want to happen today, was for Souda to catch him staring. Or- he paused. To catch… Souda staring? He didn’t want to look again, even if he was right, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if he could feel Souda’s gaze. Ears growing red, he scripted a small note back, faltering slightly as nerves made his fingers stiff.

Do you still understand well enough?

Kazuichi’s gaze didn’t move until he finally noticed Gundam actually wrote words down. He did a double take back at his face before he picked up his pen, his cheeks heating up. Shit, did Gundam catch him looking? His hands trembled slightly from the sugar and caffeine as he scribbled on the paper.

yeah i understand completely ur a good teacher i already said that didn’t i sorry

He slid the note over, now doing his best to keep his eyes on the table and not on Gundam.

Do not fret, I am pleased you understand.

Clearing his throat as quietly as he could, he returned to numbers. Gundam really tried to focus, he did. But he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering… Muscle memory served him well, and he continued to write, but his mind’s eye strayed from questioning Souda’s gaze, to wondering why keeping their notes tidy was so important, to the way Souda tapped his fingers on the desk ever so slightly, the sugar and caffeine running rampant through his veins. It soon became impossible to focus, and he started mixing up numbers and crossing them out. He shook his head, hard, mumbling apologies for scrambling up his figures.

Kazuichi easily picked up Gundams distraction and yanked an empty note from him to write on.

do u wanna stop for today

He slid it over, giving Gundam a small smile as he did. He wasn’t unfamiliar with his brain getting jumbled and melting into mush and before he knew it, the day was over and he hadn’t got shit done. So he didn’t mind giving up for today, starting again tomorrow or next week. He just liked being with Gundam, kinda. As weird as that was.

Gundam nodded.

My sincerest apologies, I seem to have lost my senses…

What the hell had gotten into him? This was highly unusual for him. Gundam mumbled another quiet sorry, sliding the incomplete and jumbled page across to Kazuichi just in case he needed it anyway.

Souda tidied everything up on the desk, sliding his books, computer and the notes into his black backpack. As he stood, he bounced on his heels, the caffeine suddenly taking full effect as he finally got out of the chair and could move around to his heart's desire. He slid his backpack over one of his shoulders and didn’t hesitate to start playing with one of the enamel pins of a vocaloid character that hung from the zipper, needing something to occupy his hands with.

Gundam stood as well, fumbling as he slipped the last notebook into his bag. Offering a hand, he gestured towards the door. He whispered, “Shall we meet again tomorrow, then? I swear I shall do better at my job.”

Kazuichi laughed softly at that, nodding. His hands fiddled with his jumpsuit pockets as he made his way over to Tanaka, a small bounce in his step. He would definitely blame that and what he did next on the overload of caffeine in his system the next day. He put his hands on Gundams shoulders, slightly dragging him down as he stood on his tippy-toes, kissing him sweetly on the lips before he was already skipping towards the door, waving him bye as he exited, most likely to his dorm on campus.

Blood froze in his veins. Gundam’s heart pounded, throbbing in his ears. His face was beyond red, and his stiffened fingers twitched in surprise. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, he could not even will his feet to carry him after the boy. What… What just… happened? His mind felt as slow and sluggish as if it was buffering through a torrented movie file.

Finally gathering enough control of his own limbs, he pulled himself through the door. He wanted desperately to give chase, to pull Souda into his arms and kiss him back, but he knew there was no possible way he would keep his courage. So he settled, simply deciding upon returning to his own abode. He would have to speak to Souda at their meeting tomorrow. Just thinking about it gave him… butterflies? Oh dear, what an unpleasant sensation.

. . .

Thank you @kazudam for writing with me! This was so much fun, and something I’ve always wanted to do :’)

#gundham tanaka #kazuichi souda #kazuichi x gundham #gundham x kazuichi #soudam #daily soudam #kazudam as souda #intentional-moss as gundham #mod 🌱

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nat-20s · 4 years

Note

ooh can i have some reluctantly soft hcs about jon pre s1-s2? (maybe even some about pride??)

okay so we gettin REAL soft tonight babes!

-so for pride Sasha and Tim have officially formed the Taking Martin To His First Pride Team and all three of them spend like a week going back and forth on whether or not to invite Jon bc a: he’s a bit surly and b: he might?? be the Token Cishet? (he’s neither, but they don’t know that.) and while a token cishet can be supportive of his friends at pride they also don’t know if they?? qualify as his friends??

-There’s a conversation that basically goes like

Tim: im sure even as a straight guy he’d like to at least be invited. Wait. Is Jon straight? Do we know?

Sasha: I dunno. I get a Vibe from him that says otherwise

Tim: really??? but he’s not receptive to my charms???

Sasha: believe it or not Tim not being attracted to you specifically is not a conclusive indication of heterosexuality.

Tim: sources???

Martin: guys he’s..probably straight. even ignoring just, god, statistical probability, i kind of?? want to?? hold his hand???

Sasha: and that means???

Martin: i pretty much only ever get crushes on deeply unavailable men. Hence why Tim does not make me swoon.

Tim: now that just sounds like a challenge. ALSO I’m pretty sure Jon counts as deeply unavailable regardless of whether or not he’s straight. Not exactly the most open person around.

Sasha: i say we invite him anyway! if he’s shitty about it I’ll make sure his email doesn’t work right for a month!

Tim: Sasha you terrify me. I love you.

Sasha: 😘

So Tim casually knocks on Jon’s door and is like “hey boss we’re going to pride this weekend would you like to come with?” and Jon goes through a whole Face Journey because while, at this point, he Knows he’s trans, is pretty?? sure?? he’s bi, and is aware of being ace but not of like the word or that other people are Like That, pride is still..a lot. Especially when he’s not out to any of them. Reluctantly he ends up agreeing to come along and actually DOES and it’s good? it’s weird for him but it’s nice. It’s really nice and it feels safe and joyful in a way that he’s not used to. He’s doesn’t pick up any merch but the fact that it exists, that there’s people like him out here and living life? it’s lovely to watch. Doubly so to see his coworkers all having a blast. It’s not like any of the other three are particularly dour at work, but here? the three of them THRIVE.

non pride related

-Before he is just so stressed all the time constantly Jon used to sing to himself quite a lot! You can pry “Jon is a good singer” from my cold dead hands. before he becomes Boss Man he’s willing to keep singing even when a coworker walks in and sasha in particular is like woah! that sounds really nice! After shit goes down he kind of stop singing, which sucks because it’s something he really enjoys but it just. Doesn’t come out anymore. Until Scotland at least. Martin is extremely taken with it.

-There’s a point where Jon walks in on Tim desperately trying not to fuck up the Other Eye when it comes to putting on eyeliner and after about 7 minutes of struggling because it’s just one of those days Jon is like “jesus christ”, grabs Tim’s face, and applies a FLAWLESS, symmetrical cat eye in like .2 seconds. Tim is DELIGHTEDLY like “Jon what the fuck??? :DDD” and Jon is like “i went to college” even though it explains NOTHING and Martin, who’s been watching this exchange the entire time, is a Touch Starved Gay Icon with the World’s Dumbest Crush who thinks nothing but “jon. Hands. Face.” before saying “I Would Also Like Eyeliner” and Jon is like GROANS you would wouldnt you and then does it anyway. Jon doesn’t realize he cataloged the feeling of martin’s face under his hands until like. two years and one soppy dream later

-Jon establishes himself as a clothing thief in season 1 while martin is staying in the archive. one day he accidentally takes Martin’s hoodie and DOESN’T even notice even though it’s a: blatantly not the cardigan of the same color he thought he was grabbing and b: oversized on him. Martin sees him and is like “is that?? my hoodie??” and that’s when jon finally looks at what he’s wearing and just replies, “Yes.” Martin asks, “Can I..have it back” and since Jon is Pissy and Sleep Deprived and generally not in his right senses and also his animal hindbrain is like hhhg hoodie smell good he flatly responds, “No.” And Martin finds it a very confusing mix of deeply annoying and deeply endearing.

-other items jon has stolen:

one of roises big ol hair clips

a scarf of sasha’s

a pair of Tim’s pajama pants?? how did he even get those???

Like half of Georgies wardrobe at some point or another

-Before he became archivist, he had a favorite little reading nook in the institute. It was private and sunny and quiet and HIS and he spent many a lunch there without anyone knowing, back when he got to read for fun

-for all the shit that he tries to give Martin about letting a dog into the institute, over the course of his career there he has temporarily snuck in three different stray cats and also a very sad looking hedgehog because he’s a bleeding heart with the rest of em

-he’s not the best baker but when he DOES manage to make something really well, he would almost always bring it into work to share, with a note listing ingredients and a “feel free to eat” note, but absolutely making sure no one knows it was him that dropped it off. Sasha recognizes his hand writing every time but they have a silent agreement that he always sneaks her the best of the batch and she doesn’t say anything

#Anonymous #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #canon plot do not interact #replies #anon

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solena2 · 3 years

Text

Hey y’all so I watched a YouTube video that I think was wrong, and as you know it’s illegal to be wrong on the internet, so I wrote a response!

Video is here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T8LF_KkrCJs

youtube

Spoilers for BNHA, in both the video and my response (which I wanted to put in the comments on the video, but apparently YouTube gets pissy about copypasting? Anyway)

Also, probably watch the video before reading this, since a lot of this is a direct response to the points they brought up.

—

I’d like to preface this by saying that you’ve made some valid comments, and that I understand where you’re coming from here.

My Hero Academia is, overall, a story about amazing people with amazing powers doing amazing things, and it’s difficult to see where someone with no power at all might fit in to this, which is the main emotional conflict Izuku faces throughout his childhood, that fundamental dichotomy between his wanting to save people, and his (assumed) inability to do so without a quirk.

But My Hero Academia is also a story that likes to repeatedly assert that anyone can be a hero. From Aizawa with his non-physical quirk, who primarily uses support gear to defeat enemies many times stronger than him, to Shinsou, whose quirk is seen as villainous, who would likely have to fight against other heroes as often as he would villains thanks to the prejudice that’s positively dripping from BNHA’s world.

So I’d like to explain why I disagree.

First, you begin the video by talking about the people who claim that Izuku’s getting a quirk ruins the story. I would like to make it clear, right off the bat, that I don’t hold this view. I believe that while Izuku having a quirk weakens the impact of the story and cheapens a lot of its messages, there is still undoubtedly a story there to be told, and one that is worth telling.

The reason I believe that Izuku receiving One For All weakens the story is because BNHA is all about the consequences of the kind of society wide prejudice that exists within its world. Every villain the characters face and every problem they overcome is one spawned by the very status quo they’ve spent their childhoods dreaming of upholding- the hero system.

Stain exists because heroes are held in awe by the general population without truly being worthy of it, treated as saviors despite being little more than glorified cops, which spawns anger and resentment from people intelligent enough to see past their facades.

Dabi exists because pro heroes are allowed to get away with just about anything so long as they’re covert about it, and in fact might have grown up to be a hero himself if Endeavor had been held to a higher moral standard by those around him, or had been appropriately punished for his behavior.

All For One exists because “strong” quirks are revered, and those who hold them are taught early to take what they want by force.

Shigaraki exists because those with “unpleasant” quirks are reviled and held in disgust by the general population, which makes them vulnerable to exploitation by outside forces due to their lacking support systems.

I could go on, but I’m sure you get the point.

In my opinion, BNHA has always been centered around the society quirks have created and the consequences therein. I dare you to find a major character arc that doesn’t intersect with the universe’s social issues in some way.

Thus, I believe the message that BNHA attempts to convey would be significantly stronger I’d Izuku had remained quirkless, demonstrating once and for all that quirks and heroism aren’t so intertwined as it might seem.

Instead, it shoots itself in the foot, saying repeatedly that it’s not a quirk that makes a hero, but rather their spirit, while at the same time leaving it implied that the most important character of all would never have been able to help people if not for being given All Might’s power. (Again, it doesn’t ruin the story, but it does hamstring the core message somewhat.)

You say here that Izuku getting saved by All Might is the only reason he became a hero at all, being “saved from his fate of irrelevance”.

This is… Not something I agree with, to state it politely.

Izuku was planning to attend UA’s entrance exam long before he met All Might. Given that he is, you know, Izuku, I don’t think any amount of shittiness from Katsuki would have deterred him from trying. In fact, trying despite the odds against him making it seem idiotic to do so is one the largest parts of his character.

The way you speak of needing to give him a “resilient streak” for him to keep trying despite All Might’s discouragement implies that he doesn’t already have one wide enough to suffer through 14 years of being told he’d never make it as a hero. With how much he’s already pushed through by the time the story even starts, I really doubt All Might would succeed again breaking his will any more than anyone else has.

You say that Izuku’s arc is all about facing the guilt of having reached his goals purely through chance while so many others remain downtrodden.

That’s valid, and I agree.

You also say that this is not a character arc he could have had without One For All, which is not.

Merely being the first quirkless person to make it into UA would likely start this, as he would definitely still have to get through the exam on rescue points, which could feel unearned to him, what with his massive case of imposter syndrome.

Thus, it would still be entirely possible to give him the same overall character arc he has in canon, and it might in fact end up even more pronounced, due to all the discrimination he’d face from the general public.

You say that for this Izuku to continue, even despite All Might’s rejection, he would already have to have the sense of self worth such a character arc eventually gives him.

This is not the case. There are many instances in real life of people pushing past impossible odds and still not feeling as if they deserve to have made it to the other side. In fact, what would likely happen is that he’d try to be a hero anyway and then feel guilty for attempting it even after being discouraged by his hero.

So no, he’s not Naruto, because the personality changes you propose wouldn’t actually be necessary to give him a fighting chance as a hero without a quirk.

The next big point you make is that it would be difficult to give Izuku the standard shounen power crawl without a cool quirk.

You’re correct that technology would have a difficult time stacking up to One For All without feeling like an asspull, making him a Mary Sue, or needing to give him a seemingly infinite array of gadgets, a la Batman.

Notice I said difficult, NOT impossible. While it can be much harder to turn technology into a realistic way to fight superpowered villains, it CAN be done.

Not to mention, there is already a character in BNHA who does it and does it well.

Aizawa doesn’t have a combat oriented quirk, instead fighting almost exclusively with the use of his capture scarf, using which he is shown to be able to take out upwards of ten villains, depending on where you want to pull from. I really don’t think it would be so unrealistic to give a quirkless Izuku something along these lines.

Not that we even need to. We can have Izuku beating villains without the use of any technology he couldn’t buy for himself. (At least in a place with lax safety laws, which I imagine his world likely is due to how pointless it would be to heavily restrict the purchase of things like guns when there are people running around who can shoot glaciers from their hands)

Ninety percent of villains are as vulnerable to getting shot as a normal human. If that’s too violent and bloody for the tone of the show, there are dozens of ways to beat the villains with things like hairspray flamethrowers, slingshots, and traditional weapons (just look at Stain). While quirks certainly are powerful, they aren’t perfect and every ability has a counter, even if it’s not always immediately obvious.

This eliminates the problem of him needing to get his tech from somewhere entirely. (Which is almost a con, because Mei needs more screentime, man)

Actually your point of possibly making Izuku a “super genius” reminds me of something else. Izuku has an almost supernatural ability to identify and counter quirks. Gee, I wonder how that could be useful in a possible plot line where he’s unable to rely on being able to smash his way through problems…

You say that if Izuku getting a quirk is an issue for BNHA, giving him overpowered tech would be a problem as well. Though I already solved this problem by proposing less tech heavy solutions, I’ve decided not to skip over this point because it seems like the right place for me to bring up a piece of context you may be missing for why some people are so against Izuku being given a quirk.

Let’s talk about the disability angle.

Now, as someone with mental disabilities myself, I’m not exactly unbiased here. I’m not going to deny that I have a knee jerk reaction to any story that gives a character a disability (or something analogous within the setting to a disability, like quirklessness) and then “cures” it while implying that they never would have gotten anywhere if their disability had persisted. This is actually why I took so long to get into the BNHA fandom, since I saw a loose outline of the plot and immediately went “oh hell no”.

I did end up joining the fandom in the end, simply because I’m almost certain that this parallel was unintentional.

Anyway, the reason why giving him an overpowered quirk and giving him overpowered tech are so different from a lot of people’s perspectives is that giving him tech doesn’t erase his “disability”. If you give a quirkless Izuku powerful tech, he’ll still be quirkless, with all the hurdles and challenges that implies. (Especially the discrimination related ones) Meanwhile, giving Izuku a quirk removes the disability entirely, as well as most associated difficulties.

I’m sure you can see why one seems so ableist, from a disabled perspective.

You say that you would likely run out of ways to meaningfully progress his tech, in a series as long as BNHA likely will be by its conclusion, but I’d like to point out that this is just as much of a problem with superpowered media. It’s very common in shounen for power progression to feel like more and more of an asspull as the story progresses. Thus, you solve the problem in the same way, by relying more on clever use of what the hero already possesses than you do on creating a new application or ability in every fight.

And no, I can think of several ways to beat both Dabi and Shigaraki without “science magic”. Obviously, neither of them are immune to bullets, though again, that’s probably a bit too quick for this show. You could take down Shigaraki if you could numb his hands somehow, or if you protected yourself with something made of many interlocking parts, like chain mail. You could beat Dabi if you used something like a taser, if you could get close enough to use it. You could also just find a way to outlast him, since he’s not immune to his own fire. Maybe bring some gasoline?

I’m going to skip over the points you make while talking about setting, since I don’t believe you’d have to alter the setting to make a quirkless Izuku feasible.

I will talk acknowledge one point you make while discussing setting simply so I can say: inequality and societal imbalance do not require much, or even any, actual disparity in ability to both exist and be prevalent enough to disenfranchise huge chunks of a population. Just look at how autistic and ADHD people are treated for that. (Or gay people, or women, or the Poors(™)...)

In conclusion, your opinion is valid but I think you lack knowledge of where most of this criticism is actually coming from, which isn’t something you should be ashamed of.

I think the reason mine and your opinions are so fundamentally different here is that we’re coming from very different places, and our thoughts on a piece of media like this are always going to be shaped by our environment.

Thank you for reading.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Izuku #Midoriya #midoriya izuku #Deku #BNHA #BNHA meta #mha meta #my writing #I really feel like it’s important to discuss why different people have different opinions on this kind of thing!#also I’d just like to make it clear that I do like bnha #I just feel like it. like any piece of media (except Undertale lol). had some flaws and issues which should be addressed #consume media critically!#long post #sorry about your dashes I made this post on mobile so no cut #and apparently tumblr has decided that it’s illegal to edit posts made on mobile from a computer #>:(#sol writes

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

The Second Crossover Episode

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

People seemed to really like the first one, so I wrote another! Because there are a lot more boys that can meet each other across worlds, and a lot of these encounters are going to be...not so good. But some of them could be positive! Be optimistic, despite how most of my AU is just...villains

Again, you can find Swap Boys content on @huffle-dork‘s blog!

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Still not sure about adding the taglist to not normal AU material, but here I go anyways | Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Alt spent what felt like an hour wandering the streets before he finally admitted it: not only was he lost, but he wasn’t even in his city anymore. He recognized absolutely nothing. Every street turned where it was supposed to be straight, and every twist was actually a crossroad. He didn’t know where he was, or even how he got here. Alt stopped running right under a street lamp, looking around at low, dim buildings he’d never seen before.

He sat down hard on the curb and put his head in his hands. Why did this happen to him? Why couldn’t he just go home, see his cat, and be left alone? He wanted to blame Magnificent, but the magician had been seemed just as confused as he was back in that museum-type place. So he didn’t even have that explanation. He could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He didn’t belong here. And he didn’t know how to get back, or if anyone would bother to come look. Nobody looked the last time. His shoulders started shaking as he let the tears fall.

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

Alt looked up, hurriedly wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve. There was a man staring down at him with concern. He wore a dark red hoodie and black jeans, and he...almost looked like Jackie. But less tired, and with longer hair, long enough to be held back in a ponytail that peeked out from inside the jacket’s hood. “Wh—yeah, yeah I’m...fine,” Alt said, pulling up his bandanna.

“Most people don’t cry when they’re fine,” the man remarked. “What’re you doin’ out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

Alt laughed. “You’re out here.”

“Well, I can take care of myself. Not everyone can. Not that I’m saying you can’t,” he hurried to add, seeing Alt’s eyes start to darken. “I just want to make sure you’re not in trouble. Or, you know, causing trouble.”

“I’m fine,” Alt insisted, resolutely turning away. “I’m just...lost. I’m new here.”

“Well, do you know where you need to go?”

Alt could feel the tears again. But he blinked them away. “I can figure it out.”

The man gave him a peculiar look. It wasn’t pity, thank god, but it was something similar. Sympathy, maybe. “Look, I’m still worried about you, not gonna lie. I’m out here with a friend of mine. If you want, you can just...hang around with us? It’s better to travel in a group.”

His instinct was to deny help again. But he forced himself to take a step back. He was alone in a strange city, Magnificent was on the loose along with what must’ve been some sort of evil duplicate of himself, and he had no idea what to do. And this guy wasn’t being a bossy ass about going with him, just giving him an option. “...fine,” Alt grumbled, standing up. “Maybe for a little while.”

The man practically melted with relief, smiling. “Great! I left him over on the corner, he was texting a friend. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He started to walk away, making sure Alt was following him. “Oh, my name’s Jackie, by the way.”

Alt faltered in his steps. “Wait, really?” He’d just been thinking about how this guy reminded him of Jackie. Was this...?

“Yeah. You, uh...okay?” the other Jackie asked. “You got really pale all of a sudden.”

“I just—I have a friend named Jackie, too,” Alt explained. “You, uh, kind of...remind me of him.”

The other Jackie laughed. “Cool. Good to know we’ve got another doppelganger out there. Besides you, I mean.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and my housemates. We all sorta look alike. Some differences, but in general we’re, like, clones.” Jackie looked ahead. “Oh hey, I can show you. Chase!”

They’d reached the street corner, where a man was leaning against the pole of the traffic light. He was wearing a red snap-back cap pulled down, and was absorbed in his phone. The man looked up at the sound of the name ‘Chase.’ “Oh hey, you finally decided to come back. Find out what that noise was?”

Alt stopped, staring with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure his heart was beating. “Ch-Chase?” he asked in a strangled voice.

This other Chase gave him a weird look. “Yeah, that’s my name. Why, you heard it before? And also, you okay, dude? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

Alt took a few steps back, reexamining what he was seeing. There was a lack of toned muscles that came with a life of fighting crime, and no freckles in sight. But there was absolutely no doubt. He’d know Chase’s face anywhere, and this was him, but he was so different. And wrong. Alt found he was breathing very quickly but he just couldn’t stop. “Th-this isn’t how it’s s-supposed to be,” he said, gasping. “I just want—I just want to go home. Why can’t I go home?!” When he shouted that last question, a glitch slipped in, vibrant pixels blinking into existence and fading away again.

The two others immediately snapped into action. The other Chase dropped his phone, letting it fall to the ground, and his hand went to his belt, where he pulled out a gun that had been belted there. The other Jackie jumped back, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling a large pocket knife out, flipping open the blade. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Chase demanded, pointing the gun at Alt.

Alt, for his part, was just even more confused, but that confusion was now mixed with fear. That caused his glitching to intensify. “I—I d-don’t know what—what are you—”

“What, did you think you could fool us like that, Anti?” Jackie demanded.

“Anti...?” For a moment, Alt panicked, thinking these bizarro versions of his friends somehow found out his real name when he’d never even told the real ones. But then he remembered. “W-wait—do you think I’m that—that other glitch? Black clothes? Eye-patch and scarf?”

“Well who else—?!”

“Jackie, wait.” Chase reached over and slowly lowered Jackie’s arm so that the blade of the knife wasn’t pointing at Alt anymore. He did the same thing with his gun. “I think we should hear him out.”

“Hear him—” Jackie glared at Chase, clearly exasperated. “C’mon, this is clearly a trick.”

“Well, I think maybe it’s not,” Chase snapped back. “I mean...look at the effects. They look...different.” He made a vague sort of gesture to the glitches surrounding Alt. “Anti has always had the same ones, why change now?”

“Uh, how about to fool us?”

“Jackie, just...trust me on this.” Chase looked back at Alt. “So, you’re saying you saw Anti?”

“Y-yeah,” Alt stuttered. This rapid turn of events was making his head spin. “He found me, and he offered to help me because apparently I don’t know what I’m doing, and I told him to fuck off and ran away.”

“Good idea,” Chase grinned. “If you hadn’t done that, there’s a good chance you’d be dead right about now.”

“I—what?” Alt stared incredulously at Chase. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Chase nodded sadly. “The whole bunch of us have been targeted by him multiple times. He’s serious bad news. People around him disappear, and if they’re lucky they’ll reappear needing therapy. He’s been after a friend of ours for a while now, and eventually he’s gone after the rest of us. That’s why we all live together, safety in numbers, you know?”

Alt’s glitching had completely subsided, but he hadn’t even noticed. He knew there’d been something off about that guy. The way he laughed, the way he never blinked, the way he referred to Alt as “human” as if he wasn’t. And why he’d been so insistent on helping Alt mere moments after acting all pissy towards him. It must’ve been a trap.

“Look, dude.” Chase put the gun back into his belt. After a moment of reluctance, Jackie folded the blade back into the handle of the pocket knife, but didn’t put it away. “If Anti’s got his eye on you...you’re in trouble. You need to get somewhere safe.”

Alt looked around. “I don’t...know where safe is. I’m not from here.”

Chase and Jackie glanced at each other. “Well, I think it would be better if you...stayed with us, then?” Chase suggested hesitantly. “Not permanently if you don’t want to, but...we have some protection set up at our house. It...might help?”

Alt considered it, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he thought. It would be pretty nice to have a place to stay in this new city. And, well, it was Chase. Maybe not the same Chase, however that worked, but Chase nonetheless. He was a good guy. “Okay,” Alt breathed, nodding. “Maybe for a little.”

Chase smiled. “That’s great dude! We can head home now, cut the night short. This is a bit more important.” He laughed. “Oh, hey we, uh, never caught your name. What was it?”

“I’m Alt,” Alt said immediately.

“Alt? Cool name. C’mon, we can show you the way.”

“No,” Anti whispered, eye locked on the feed from the street’s CCTV camera. “Nò,̢ ͝n̵o,̧ no!̡” He rammed his fist into a nearby metal shelf, hard enough to scrape the skin off the knuckles. As always, he felt nothing. “You fucking i̷d͞io̵t̸!”

Sam flew over from their perch on top of one of the CPUs, gently rubbing against the curve of Anti’s neck, catlike. He absentmindedly reached up to stroke them with one finger. “I guess it’s not really his fault. He’s not from here, he doesn’t know. Not even the people who live here know. But...who trusts a total stranger just like that?!” Sometimes, despite his ability to step into the deep recesses of their minds, Anti felt he would never understand humans.

He leaned closer to the screen, debating whether or not it was a good idea to swoop in and get the kid out of there. It would certainly get him out of immediate danger, but then again, he might go running back into it afterwards, still refusing to accept Anti’s help. Not to mention it might paint him as even more of a bad guy. “What’s this guy’s deal anyway?” Anti muttered. “Where did he come from? Why can he glitch? You wouldn’t happen to know, would you, Sam?”

Despite the throwaway nature of the question, Sam zoomed up in front of Anti’s face, swishing their tail once. They’d agreed early on that that gesture meant yes. “Wait, you do? How? What’re the answers?”

Sam, of course, didn’t answer, though their iris squished flat in an are you kidding me? look. “Right, right, can’t talk.” Anti watched the kid and the two freaks on the screen for a moment. “Alright, guess it’s time to play the guessing game. You know the drill, Sam, I spit out random ideas and you confirm yes or no. Let’s make this one quick.”

By the time they reached the house, Alt had managed to fill in the other Jackie and Chase about everything that happened, all the way from the colorful lights that had taken him and Magnificent to the museum, to seeing that weird other almost-Magnificent in the black mask, to his encounter with Anti. They listened carefully, taking every detail. Or at least, Jackie did. Chase took a slight detour to text someone on his phone shortly after Alt mentioned the black-masked magician. But he listened after that.

“Here, we are, home sweet home,” Chase said, pulling open the door. “After you, new dude.”

Alt ducked inside, taking in the spacious living room with an archway leading to what looked like a dining room, and an open hallway ending in a flight of stairs. It looked friendly enough. But instinctively, his eyes darted about, taking in the entrances and the windows. There was a man sitting in one of the armchairs, wearing a red vest and a derby hat, face hidden behind a book. Alt glared at him. He seemed familiar.

“Hey, Jameson?” Jackie said, entering the house after Alt. “Put the book down, buddy. I think you should meet someone.”

The man put the book down, and Alt gasped. He looked like Dr. J. What was the deal with the lookalikes?! For his part, this Jameson looked just as shocked. But he smiled, and gave a gentle wave. {Hello, there.}

Alt shrieked, backing up quickly and running into the now-closed door. He scrambled for the doorknob. He couldn’t—not this again—

“Alt! What’s wrong?” Chase waved his hand in front of Alt’s panicked face. “What happened?”

“He’s in my head!” Alt cried. “I can’t—I c-can’t—”

“Whoa, dude, it’s fine!” Jackie placed a reassuring hand on Alt’s shoulder. “Jameson can’t talk, but he can project—you know, in a telepathic sense. He’s just saying hi.”

Jameson had closed his book and stood up by this point. He walked over to the coffee table and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. He flipped through it until he found a blank page, and started writing.

“Look, I promise you it’s fine,” Chase said to Alt, his tone reassuring. “If he could mess about in there, he would’ve done it by now.”

“How do you know he hasn’t?!” Alt demanded.

Chase hesitated. “I guess we don’t. But that’s what trust is.” He paused, and looked back over to Jameson. “You sure?” he asked. Jameson nodded.

“What’s happening?!” The question came out sounding more panicked than he would’ve liked.

“It’s okay, Alt,” Jackie said. “Jameson just told us that since you’re uncomfortable with the whole...mind situation, then he won’t project to you. That’s what the paper is for.”

Jameson smiled again, a bit smaller this time. He held up the paper for Alt to see. Unfortunately, he was still across the room. Alt’s eyes narrowed. He glitched closer, causing Jameson to jump, and grabbed the pad straight out of his hands, reading what he’d written. I’m terribly sorry. If I’d known how you felt about it, I never would have tried in the first place.

Alt glared at Jameson. “Fine. Fucking fine, whatever.” He shoved the paper back at him, then glitched onto the couch, ending up curled into the side.

Jameson blinked, looking back and forth between Alt and Jackie and Chase. “It’s a long story,” Jackie sighed. “We should wait until everyone’s home to explain it.”

“Lemme guess,” Alt piped up. “You have another housemate who’s German? Goes by the nickname Schneep?”

“Yeah, actually,” Chase said, visibly surprised. “That’s the doc. He usually works late at the clinic. How did you know?”

Alt laughed. “Well, sounds like I didn’t know everything. Never would’ve pictured Schneep as the doctor. God, this is—this is fucked, dude.” He shivered. “I—I don’t know what’s going on. Everything is switched around and I don’t...I don’t know why.”

“I actually have a theory,” Jackie said, flopping down on the opposite end of the sofa than Alt. “But I should probably wait until at least Schneep is home.”

“What makes you think I am not already?”

Alt jumped at the sound, twisting in his spot to see a version of Schneep, wearing a white coat that was torn at the cuffs over a blue sweater, leaning against the arch to the dining room. There was a steaming coffee mug in one hand, and his blue eyes were rather intense through the pair of glasses. Alt just stared at him. He couldn’t have heard Jackie, could he?

“When did you get home?” Jackie asked. “I expected you to be—be working for some time now.”

“It was a slow day.” Schneep walked over and plopped into the other armchair. Jameson also sat, reclaiming his seat and leaving Chase the only one standing. “I decided to come home early. And it seems I was a good idea, because I would have missed that.” Schneep took a sip of the coffee, staring at Alt over the top of the rim. “You are not Anti. But I saw what you did, and that is what Anti does. I wonder why this could be.”

“Uh...I don’t know,” Alt said, honestly bewildered at this point by all the differences, yet all the similarities as well.

“Alright, time for my theory,” Jackie said, sitting up straight. “I think you’re from another dimension. A parallel universe.”

Everyone seemed to sharpen at that. “That’s possible?” Chase asked. “I thought that was science fiction.”

“So did I!” Jackie said excitedly. “But I can’t think of anything else. Alt seems to know who we are, but things are different, and he has the same powers as Anti but is also clearly not the same—even that Magnif-who cares could be explained. He kinda sounded like a different version of Marvin.”

“Marvin?” Alt asked.

“He’s...one of the housemates,” Chase admitted. “But look! He’s not the same as your version. He’s a bit of a bitch sometimes, but not, like, evil.”

Alt frowned. He hadn’t stuck around to see much beyond the first confrontation between the magicians, but that didn’t seem right. But...as he thought back on those memories, he started to wonder if he was wrong. The images were spiraling in front of his vision, and...maybe he’d been {wrong}? Maybe he’d been wrong. This Marvin dude was fighting Magnificent, after all. “Fine, whatever,” Alt grumbled, slumping further into the couch. “Just don’t make me look at his ugly face.”

“I doubt you’ll ever even see it,” Chase chuckled. “First of all, never takes that mask off, he’s a bit sensitive about it. Second of all, he’s pretty much a hermit, goes back and forth between the basement and his room and only comes out for food. Pretty easy to avoid the guy.”

Alt rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you guys say you had another one beside him?”

“Jack,” Jackie explained. “He’s asleep right now. Plays video games for a living on YouTube. Also kinda reclusive, doubt you’ll see him at all.”

Alt checked his bandanna, it had started to slip and needed readjusting. He didn’t like how these guys were talking like he’d already moved in. He was just staying with them for a little while, that was all. Just long enough to figure out what the deal with Anti was, how to get him off his trail, and how to get home. That was it. {But who knows how long that would take?} Could be a while...

“Do you guys...have an extra bedroom?” he asked. “I’m...kind of tired.” It was all of a sudden, too. The long night of adrenaline must’ve been wearing on him.

“You can use mine,” Chase offered. “I can crash on the couch while you’re staying.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks, man.”

“No problem, dude,” Chase gave a thumbs-up, accompanied by a cheesy grin. Alt couldn’t help but smile at that, not that they could see it under the bandanna. Guess some things were universal constants.

“Oh, before you go upstairs,” Schneep said. “Jameson is wondering if there are any others from your universe who came over, if that is indeed what happened. And I am as well, frankly.”

Alt thought back on it. “I don’t think so. Other than”—he made a face while simultaneously shuddering—”Magnificent. I haven’t been able to find any if they did come through. And...I think the two of us were the only ones in range? So...no, the answer’s no.”

Chase had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten here. One moment, he and the others had been looking for Alt, after that stupid magician had gone after him again. They’d been getting close, he was sure of it, but then the next moment there had been a noise and a rush of colored light, and Chase had found himself standing in a park, completely alone.

This wasn’t the same city. He’d been patrolling it for years, he knew his city, and this wasn’t it. But the question was, where was he then? And where were the others?

After a while of wandering, he came across a drug store. It looked abandoned, or more accurately that surreal sort of empty that only came late at night when the white lights of the store showed off how few people there actually were. There was only one car in the parking lot, an old minivan. A woman with shoulder-length blonde curls was walking towards it, clutching a white paper bag in one hand and her keys in the other. Chase was hesitant to approach her, since it could easily come off the wrong way, but after a moment of silent thought, he decided it would be for the best. He’d just make sure to keep his distance.

He approached her slowly, staying a few feet away when he called out, “Excuse me?”

The woman dropped her paper bag in shock, two bottles of over-the-counter medicine falling out. She spun around, eyes wide. “Chase?!”

Chase gaped in turn. “Stacy?” He hadn’t recognized her. She looked...different. In tons of minute ways, but what he noticed was what he called the “tired parent look.” He’d seen it enough on Jackie, but never Stacy. She didn’t have kids, that’s why Jackie asked her to babysit for him. Did she? “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

Stacy didn’t say anything, just took a few steps toward her car. She adjusted her grip on her keys while also fumbling about with the clasp of her purse. She seemed...on edge. Scared, even. “Uh...” Chase glanced around. The parking lot was as empty as before. He pulled off his mask, thinking maybe that was the problem. “You okay there?”

“Fine!” Stacy squeaked. She’d managed to open the purse, and was now looking for something inside without taking her eyes away from Chase. “I was just—ah, Trev got sick and we were out of cold medicine, so I went to pick some up and I left them with a sitter—told the sitter to expect me back in twenty minutes, it’s already been twelve, I think—”

He had no idea what she was talking about. But he was picking up that she was...scared of him? Of him? That couldn’t be possible. Something must’ve been up. “Well, you dropped the bag of medicine,” he pointed out helpfully. “Here, I can help you pick it up—”

“No!” The word was more like an instinctive shriek. Stacy had pulled her phone out of her purse at this point. “I mean, thank you but I’m fine, I’m good, you don’t need to come any closer.”

“Stacy, is something wrong?” Chase asked, eyes lined with worry. “You’re acting strange.”

“No, I’m not! You—you—you know that.” There was a small flash from her phone’s camera, and Stacy immediately paled. “I-I-I-I didn’t mean to take a picture. You know how this works, new camera so confusing!” She laughed nervously. Her thumb was moving across the screen, tapping in very specific places.

“Stacy, if you’re in trouble, you know I can help you out.” Chase was starting to get desperate at this point. There was no way he could be misinterpreting this. She was scared. Of him. All he could think of was that maybe being seen with him was a risk of some sort. But what could she have gotten mixed up with for that to be a problem?

“I highly doubt that, Chase.” She made eye contact with him, and Chase realized she had been vaguely watching his hands the whole time. Her thumb had stopped. “Not when you know what the trouble is.”

“When I know what—?”

The question was cut off when Stacy suddenly dropped her phone with a small gasp. It landed screen-up on the asphalt of the parking lot. The phone was showing nothing but blank static. And then, with a fizz and a hiss, the static spread out from the phone, until it was a solid mass on the pavement. Chase gaped at it. The mass glitched, and morphed, and suddenly in a blink there was a man standing in front of Chase, dressed in dark colors except for the green scarf around his neck and the white eye-patch covering his right eye.

He looked familiar. But...it couldn’t be. “Alt?” Chase asked hesitantly.

The man looked at him and shook his head. “Not the one you know.” He turned to Stacy. “This is going to take some explaining, but basically this guy’s safe.”

“I’m safe?!” Chase repeated, bewildered. “Alt, what’s happening?”

“You shouldn’t c̛all̛ ̀me̷ ̶that ,” the other Alt said, his voice gaining an electronic filter. “It’ll probably just confuse you.”

Chase folded his arms. “I can’t possibly be more confused than I am right now.”

Stacy looked at the other Alt. “Anti? I’m...actually with him on that.”

Chase blinked. “An-Anti?” he repeated.

“My name,” the other Alt—Anti—confirmed. “The real name of your Alt, too, though I got the impression it wasn’t something he gave away easily—and now you’re staring at nothing like you’re having an existential crisis, great.”

It couldn’t be possible, could it? Alt couldn’t have been hiding that this entire time, right? Why? Chase turned around and put his head in his hands as he took this new fact in.

“Hey!” Anti pixillated into existence in front of him, glaring. “Crises later! We got more important shit to worry about!”

Stacy sighed. “He always does this.”

“Because it’s true! God, how can you get a̢n̶yt͏hin͝g̛ done like this?!” Anti grumbled indistinctively for a few more seconds, then fixed Chase with his best dead-eyed stare. It worked; Chase immediately stiffened. “Look, my fr—acquain—compan—fuck, I don’t know how we relate to each other, but their name is Sam and they told me you, and this Alt I met earlier, are from a parallel universe.”

Chase had to laugh at that.

“What are you...? I'͝m seŗi̴òus, Vlog-Man.”

“I know, I know you are, but...” Chase forced himself to stop “It’s just...god, that sounds so absurd. My life has truly become a comic book.”

“Well, you got the outfit for it, hero-type,” Anti said, giving Chase a once-over. “I hope you’re at least better than the one we have now.”

Stacy shuddered at that, just straightening up from where she’d bent over to pick up the bag she’d dropped. “Anti...if-if he’s alright, then I didn’t need to text you?”

“Not really. But it’s good practice for if the other one shows up.”

Chase looked between them, head turning rapidly. “Okay, so lemme get this straight. I am in...an alternate dimension. Alt is also here. You are not the Stacy I know, and you’re not...Alt. I’m assuming there’s another me here? Is that what got you so on edge, am I, like, a supervillain here?” He asked the last question with a crooked grin, but it slid off his face when Anti and Stacy still looked dead serious.

“Not exactly a supervillain, but not a shining example of a good person, either,” Anti drawled.

“Oh.” Chase fell silent for a moment, then started up again with what he thought was the most important topic. “You said you saw Alt? Was he okay?”

“He was,” Anti said grimly. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Alt’s gotten himself into some real serious shit. He’s in danger.”

The five of them sat around the kitchen table. Jack was still asleep, and would be for a while, and this Alt person had just stopped moving around upstairs. “So, to get to the point of this,” Jackie opened up the meeting. “What’re we going to do about him?”

Marvin scowled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t fucking know. The other me was an asshole, you think this other him is one too?”

“Actually I think he’s the good twin,” Chase laughed.

“I do not think he functions on the same rules,” Schneep said, staring at the ceiling like he could see through it to where Alt was sleeping. “For one thing, I do not think he needs to take the naptimes. And I thought that he was very immune to whatever it is Jamie does.”

{He is,} Jameson confirms. {Or at least, his mind is a beast to get through, walls made of titanium. This one, however...most unusual. His mind is like an open door, but surrounded by traps. Easy to get into, provided you don’t set any of them off.}

“You didn’t seem to have much trouble,” Marvin said, a smile ghosting around his lips.

{Well, I have a lot of practice,} Jameson replied with the same phantom smile. {And it seems someone left the door open in the first place.}

“Y’know, we still haven’t answered Jackie’s original question,” Chase said. “What are we going to do with him?”

Schneep shrugged. “Well, I was thinking that since last time we did not learn the hows and whys of the glitching, we could try again?”

“Henrik...” Jackie warned. “You know that Alt can probably die, right? Not like him.”

“I know, I know,” Schneep sighed. “But I think it would be worth a try.”

“I’m just gonna say that I’m still pissed you didn’t share like you were supposed to,” Marvin muttered.

“I was going to! It was a two-week arrangement! Is not my fault it started to fall apart and got out.”

“We’re not going to go full operating-room-magic-basement on Alt,” Chase said firmly. “Not when there’s a chance he could just tell us.”

{I agree with Chase,} Jameson said. {We will not resort to that until we have no other way.}

Jackie sighed. “Well, that’s better than nothing, I guess. And we’re not going to kill him.”

The others all murmured agreements. The real question was, why would they get rid of their one possible chance to figure out how Anti worked? Why would they pass up an opportunity to get rid of him forever?

In the corner of the dining room, a hidden camera buzzed, the sound too quiet for the human ear. Usually it didn’t do that. But a spark of dark green electricity had just invaded its systems, and it was reacting badly.

At least three from the parallel universe had made it over. But where had the third gone? And more importantly, were there any more? Only time would tell.

#ayyyy cliffhanger ending because im thinking this is just gonna be a thing now that sometimes happens #just like whenever i have inspiration motivation and time #because honestly there are so many potential relationships to explore and its like the possibilities!!!!!!#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #antisepticeye #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #dr schneeplestein #septic eye sam #brigid writes fanfiction #septics inverted au #invertedau

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dat-fandom-losertown · 5 years

Text

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 3: I’ll Do Better

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: I think I’m just gonna stop putting swearing as a warning? Cause it’s in literally every single chapter Lmao, Arguments, a moment with PTSD and anxiety

Word Count: 8,739

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“What’s got your panties in a twist this time?” Tina teases with her signature smirk as Gavin sits down next to her at their table.

“Fuck off, Tina.” Gavin shakes his head, knowing that his words don’t have the venom they would if he were to say them to anyone else.

“Aw, come on! You look even more bothered than usual and you’re not gonna tell me what happened?” The woman doesn’t give enough time for him to reply before continuing again. “I have ten bucks in my pocket that says it has to do with the new trainees roaming around.”

“That and Hank fuckin’ Anderson.” He begins around the food in his mouth, “Didn’t even know he could be awake at this hour anymore, let alone be sober enough to pull the ‘my old partner’s the current marshal’ card. I mean, he didn’t use it on me, but I heard him use it on one of the new fuckers.”

“One of the trainees? What’d they do?”

“For once in my life I was just mindin’ my own fuckin’ business, when two newbies come around the corner. Of course, I’m just trying to get to lunch, right? So I plan on just walking around them, but this kid fuckin’ tries to shoulder-check me! And when I didn’t budge he started acting like I started it!”

“So you picked a proper fight?” Tina’s turned towards him now, engrossed in Gavin’s story.

“No! Like I said, I just wanted some fuckin’ food! So I threatened the guy a bit and... gave a warning, you could say. I could immediately tell he had an ego larger than my ass, so I couldn’t just let him walk away, ya know?.”

Another woman’s voice pipes up, “Wait, you said there were two trainees. What about the other one?” Gavin doesn’t know when she got here, but now she’s sitting across from Tina.

“It was the same dude I saw daydreaming in the hall yesterday, and he kept trying to get the other dude to just walk away like the fuckin’ coward he is. He even got the shit beat outta him sometime after dinner yesterday. He was all bandaged up and limping a bit. Anderson rounded the corner before I could even start with him.”

“And you said he was awake, walking around, and sober earlier? Wow.” Tina leans back in her chair. “I’m impressed. That’s the second time this month he’s been sober and calm so early in the day.”

“You think he’s finally coming to terms with whatever happened to him?” Tina’s official partner– Angie? Allie? Amy? Who fuckin’ knows and who fuckin’ cares– asks, sounding genuinely hopeful for the washed up drunkard.

Gavin barks out a harsh laugh, “Nah, there’s no way. His hangover probably just woke him up earlier than normal.”

“What exactly do you have against him, Gav?�� the same lady asks.

“What do you mean ‘what do I have against him’? He’s done nothing but sit around on his ass drunk as hell for the past couple of years and no one’s done anything about it because he’s the ‘oh so great Pilot Anderson’ and his fuckin’ bff is the one in charge of this shit hole!” Gavin leans back in his chair with crossed arms, his food already scarfed down and tray empty. “If any of us acted the way he has been for even a month we’d be kicked out of here before we could even pack our stuff! Besides, isn’t he too fuckin’ old to pilot anymore anyway? Why in the hell is he even still here?”

“He’s only barely in his forties you know,” Tina informs patiently, having heard this rant a hundred times over by now, “He started going grey in his early twenties, something about genetics. Can’t imagine the stress and grief helped at all, either.”

“Grief. What could have possibly happened to make him ‘grieve’ for this long? Like, don’t get me wrong, I get it, but it’s been fuckin’ years of this shit. He needs to get it together, ‘cause at this point he’s just dragging us down.”

Gavin lowers his head and averts his eyes, enviously thinking about how he wasn’t ever given the kind of treatment Anderson is given on a daily basis. His face must start looking softer because Tina looks at him with a sort of concern and confusion. He scowls at her and shakes his head with a huff in dismissal.

All throughout training, each pilot is taught that no one can hold back any memories from their partner while in the drift. While that fact was usually used to keep trainees in line since everything they do will be seen by another person eventually, it was true. Mostly. After certain things took place long ago, Gavin accidentally stumbled upon a way to keep memories from whoever was his partner. From the complaints he’s heard in the past, it’s just as uncomfortable for them as it is for him, if not more so. So far, only Tina and her new partner have been able to put up with it more than twice..

The whole point is, no one here truly knows his story. The people who did have either retired, or they were killed in action, or their name is Jeffery Fowler. No one knows what kind of life he had growing up, if he has siblings or not, how long he trained to be a pilot before arriving here; and nobody knows if Gavin’s “pissy, jackass attitude” is a result of something or if that’s just who he is.

Spoiler alert: it’s just how he’s fuckin’ been his entire damn life, and he has no intentions to change any time soon. Even if Gavin wanted to, he doesn’t think he could actually change enough for it to matter, anyway. So fuck it.

“You don’t know what happened!” Tina’s partner sounds thoroughly offended on Anderson’s behalf. She must be newer or more empathetic than he thought. “They said this started right after a particularly big battle with a kaiju, he probably lost family or something!”

“I lost my family and my home when I was 17, and no one’s ever seen me moping around, constantly high as fuck and unable to do my job! ‘Cause heaven knows I wouldn’t get drunk of all things to forget my problems, I still have some self-respect.”

He must have said something wrong because the looks on both women’s faces make him feel like he’s the main attraction of a pity party. He scowls again and is about to snarl out “what?” when Tina finally speaks, albeit softly, as if he, Gavin Reed, a man tougher and more stubborn than the most overcooked jerky, would break.

“You were only 17 when..?”

And just like that, it clicks.

“No, you fucks!” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, “I was kicked out by my bitch-ass mother. They haven’t died or anything like that. At least, I don’t think they have…”

Both women relax, Tina already going back to her almost finished meal as if nothing happened, knowing full well that they weren’t going to get anything else out of Gavin for the rest of the week. However, her partner seems a bit more adamant on knowing the story, if the look in her eye is anything to go by. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, Gavin abruptly stands up. It’s time to get the hell outta dodge.

“Well, as much as I’d like to say it was a pleasure talking to you asshats, I can’t.” Tina’s smirk is enough to let Gavin know that she knows he’s just messing around now. “Don’t have a sucky ass day, I guess. Or do, I’m not your fuckin’ parent.” He promptly turns with his empty tray in hand and leaves the food court area after putting everything in their designated places.

Whenever Gavin gets worked up, going to the gym usually helps. Growing up, the only way he learned to deal with his short temper was to let it out through physical exertion. When he was younger, that meant getting into fights and punching walls until he felt calm and safer to be around again. Now, though, it means going to the gym and showing anyone else who may be in there how it’s done. Not only does he feel better about himself– contrary to popular belief, punching the nearest person or thing had never done well for his conscience after all was said and done– he also gets some of the best scores in fighting skill from his admittedly excessive training. To be completely honest, those high scores are probably the only thing keeping him here at this point.

Gavin takes his sweet, precious time getting to the gym. He meanders through the endless, reinforced halls until he gets to his room. They placed him right across from Tina’s room since she’s the only one who can tolerate him and is the only one Gavin doesn’t regularly want to deck in the throat. Even though she has an official partner now, that girl’s still relatively new and Tina is a better match in the drift for Gavin than anyone else is. Now that he thinks about it, he may not be able to slack off like Anderson, but he can admit that the higher-ups of this place have done a lot more to keep him here than they likely would have for anyone else. Not even he had to do “intern work” for Fowler during his first week of training, and it’s that one assbag’s second day here and he’s already managed to fuck it up.

He changes into his work out clothes quickly and grabs the wraps for his hands. He puts them on expertly on the way, having gone through the wrapping process much more often than anyone he knows has. Gavin’s about to turn into the gym when he hears the voice of that daydreaming coward coming from around the corner.

“Connor, would you stop your whining. Do you want what happened today in class to happen again?”

Gavin quickly backtracks to hide behind one of the support beams on the wall. He wants to know what happened during their class, because he has a feeling it has to do with how fucked up the guy was this morning.

“No I don’t,” the same voice replies? Is he talking to himself? Is this another case of Fight Club? “But we just got told to lie down and relax today since our hands are too bruised to hold pens. I don’t think it’s wise to go in there in case–”

“–In case we’re found here while this injured, I know.” Well, it’s definitely not the same person, since there were clearly two voices talking over each other just then. “You’ve said that only a million times now. We’re allowed to be in here, we just won’t be using the equipment.”

Gavin takes a chance to lean his head out and look at whoever is talking. He immediately recognises daydreamer on the left by the light grey shirt he’s wearing, which means his identical twin is wearing the black shirt. The doppelganger– apparently named Connor– looks slightly worse off than his twin.

These pilot wannabes just got here recently, right? So they must have been paired up for the initial evaluation and roughed each other up good. Maybe the twink-looking asshole isn’t a coward at all. Maybe the dude is just confident that he could win in a fight against Gavin. Although, that doesn’t explain why he was so certain that Gavin could win against that other fucker– was it Alex?– in a brawl just earlier. Maybe it’s more of an “You can’t beat me, but you can win against him” kinda deal.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum both enter the gym, still continuing on with their conversation about morals and finding loopholes within rules and orders, and Gavin takes that as his cue to follow them inside.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“I still think we shouldn’t hold back around the instructors. They’re here to evaluate us, right?” Connor asks, still very much concerned about hiding things from the people who are above them in rank.

It’s just that, what if they get caught holding back and are punished for it? Connor doesn’t even want to think about the times that had happened while training with Amanda, let alone repeat it. He knows logically that Luther wouldn’t dream of doing something like that to his students, but the inconvenient part of Connor’s head is not letting him actually believe it. It’s better to expect the worst and get better results than assume decent results and get blindsided.

“Yes, but if we don’t hold back, then they’ll probably make us graduate much earlier, which means less time to find new partners.” Ritch hisses at him.

Connor just sighs, knowing he’s right but not liking to go behind instructors’ backs, even for something as important to them as this. Ritch likely knows what kind of war is going on in his head right now, which is probably why he’s being much more patient with him than usual today.

“I know you don’t like this, but it’s necessary.”

“I know. You’re right, as always.” Connor relents finally, sitting down in the far corner of the gym where it will be obvious that they’re just sitting there, watching everyone else train and work out. They need to get a feel for how much they should be holding back for now, and how fast they should progress throughout training.

A few minutes pass of silently watching a man on a treadmill, another at a punching bag, and a woman lifting weights before Connor leans over to speak into Ritch’s ear.

“Are we going to match their skill? Or are we going to try going weaker than them?”

“After the show we put on earlier, I don’t think we can pull off playing as much weaker or less skilled than these people without the others becoming suspicious.” he answers immediately, eyes never leaving the tiring man on the treadmill.

Connor nods silently, leaning back into his own space again. It isn’t long until Ritch is leaning over to whisper in his ear, this time.

“Do you see the guy at the punching bag?”

“Yes?” Connor confirms, watching the man go to town on the hanging bag.

His technique is very good, and he has a lot of power behind each punch. It’s obvious that he’s tougher and stronger than he looks, not unlike Ritch and himself. Connor wonders if Ritch is going to suggest matching with him. It wouldn’t be a good idea at all, seeing as how he seems to be at almost the same level as them. Plus, judging by the scars littered around his face and arms, he has real experience in combat, which gives him a leg up on the other trainees.

Actually… That might be Pilot–

“That’s Gavin Reed.” Ritch unknowingly confirms his thought. “He’s trouble, so just try your best to avoid and ignore him. I’ve already run into him twice and both times he’s tried to pick a fight with me.”

That wasn’t what Connor was expecting. He knew the rumors of Gavin Reed being testy and short-tempered, but he’s picking fights with Ritch of all people so soon after their arrival?

“Really? It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet.”

“Yea. The first time he shoulder checked me while I was walking on the correct half of the hallway while he was going the opposite way, and the second time happened just before lunch. Apparently Alex bumped into him but he–” he nods to Gavin “–was adamant on finishing what was started. Mr. Anderson had to come and diffuse the situation.”

Connor turns to face Ritch. “Mr. Anderson was there?”

“Yes.”

“Did he seem okay? He seemed to have a terrible hangover this morning at lunch, and I’m sure any yelling that was happening wasn’t helping.”

Now Ritch turns to him. “Why do you care? He hasn’t been in a jaeger in years. Unless you became much more attached to who he once was than I thought.”

Connor huffs out what could be considered a growl and turns back to Gavin, “Can’t a guy just care about someone else’s health?”

“Not you.” Ritch follows Connor’s gaze, “When you care about someone’s health, it’s one of the first signs that you’re getting attached to someone, and I really don’t believe that Mr. Anderson is someone you should be getting attached to.”

“Why do you think that?” Immediately defensive.

“People talk, and he isn’t–.”

“Just like how they used to talk about us?”

“This is different than us.”

“How so?”

Ritch sharply turns back to his twin, irritation causing his eyebrows to set even lower and his mouth to thin. “Look, I don’t give a damn about who you imprint on or whatever anymore. I am trying to help you out here, because unlike the times people have talked about us, what people are saying about Mr. Anderson are all factual and we’ve both seen the proof. You need to lay off of him because not everyone feels the incessant need to not be alone.”

Connor finally allows himself to snap back. “Maybe you’re wrong this time. Yes, he drinks and he’s a miserable human being who doesn’t like other people, but how do we know that just who he is? What if he’s just like how we were way back in the orphanage, where everyone treated us like glass or ruined goods all the time? What if he wants– needs someone to be fuckin’ normal around him for a change to bring him out of his pit, and no one is there?”

“If he wanted someone, he would have found someone. He had plenty of friends before he started this!” Ritch raises his voice from a whisper, and Connor can already tell that this isn’t going to end well, especially since he isn’t willing to roll over and surrender this time.

“We had plenty of friends too, but they just didn’t understand once they found out, huh? They ended up just making things worse until all we had was each other. And there’s the thing! We still had one other person who understood! We had each other! And we’ve never remembered whatever trauma we’ve been through! He remembers it probably like it was yesterday and he is completely alone!”

“This isn’t a fairy tale, Connor! This is real life, and in real life you can’t just swoop in and save the depressed, rumored suicidal alcoholic through the magical power of friendship!”

“I don’t plan on saving anyone!” Connor shouts. The entire room becomes silent all of a sudden. He takes that moment to take a breath and continue at a normal speaking volume, “This is what you and everyone else don’t understand. I don’t want to save or fix people! I just want them to realize that there’s still hope for a somewhat normal life after their entire world shifted on its axis!” Connor takes another breath, recognizing that the three people in the room are no longer hiding the fact that they’re listening to him.

“I know I’ve said before that people can’t ‘fix’ or ‘save’ other people. They can only ever offer hope and a sense of normality among the chaos and hope that person finds enough of their own strength to fix themselves. And go ahead and make fun of me for being ‘naive’ or whatever you want. This is what I’ve always thought and this is the one thing I will not let anyone change about me. Now, I’m going to go take a nap. Enjoy your people watching.”

With that, Connor calmly makes his way across the gym area, a contradiction to the anger showing on his face and burning in his chest. He needs to calm down, and the best way to do that is to curl up in a calm, quiet place. He nods a silent greeting to the supposed troublemaker, Gavin Reed, on his way towards the door. Mostly to spite Ritch, but also because the guy had a really good form and the strength to back it up, and that deserves some kind of acknowledgement in Connor’s opinion.

Connor vaguely hears his name being called by Ritch as he steps out of the gym area, and normally that would be enough to make him pause, which then gives him think over the argument. Nine times out of ten, during this process of thinking things over, his brain somehow convinces himself that the entire fight was his fault and the person won’t ever forgive him. This time, though, he doesn’t pause. He doesn’t give his messed up head a chance to twist things on him. Connor knows he’s right this time, and he’s not going to allow himself to bow down to Ritch about this topic. In this case, bowing down to Ritch would be the equivalent of bowing down to Amanda, and she isn’t here to control him anymore.

No matter how far Connor was pushed during training as punishments, he never let her think she brainwashed that part of him, and she had not gone easy on him whatsoever.

Call him naive, childish, innocent, too optimistic, whatever. He’s heard all of that and much more and much worse from countless people. He likes to give people the benefit of the doubt, he likes giving people second and sometimes third chances (but only if they truly deserve it, and never a fourth). He likes to think that most people in the world don’t mean to do harm, and if they do they have a reason behind it. This way of thinking is the only thing that keeps him going some days, and on the days he’d temporarily forgotten how to maintain that mindset were the days that not even threats and cruel promises from Amanda could get him out of his bed. Mr. Anderson may have been able to get away with staying in bed most days, but that’s because he was once a decorated jaeger pilot. Connor is barely an official trainee, he can’t afford any more missed time.

“Connor!”

The familiar, gruff voice snaps him out of his thoughts. It doesn’t sound like that’s the first time he’s tried calling Connor, either.

“I apologise Mr. Anderson,” He starts with, turning on his heel quickly to not keep the older man waiting for his full attention a moment longer, “I was a bit lost in my head there for a few moments. I won’t let it happen again.”

Mr. Anderson makes a face that falls between scowling and confusion, “Must’ve been deeper in there than you thought ‘cause this ain’t close to any place you’d be needed.”

Looking around, he’s right. Connor doesn’t recognise these walls at all. There are different pipes and the floors are a slightly different texture than the rougher, more worn down metal or concrete of the other places he’s seen. He’s definitely in a bunker area, though, just not anywhere he’s been before, which means he’s probably in the area meant for more experienced pilots. Their bunkers are placed closest to the jaeger loading docks for faster take off. Connor must have taken a wrong turn at some point, still not completely used to this place’s layout.

It was probably for the best, though, since the first place Ritch would surely check for him is their room (especially since he claimed that he was going to take a nap), and he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened in the gym nor a chance to apologize to his brother for the sake of ending the fight. Both options are equally possible at this moment, so plan “get back to the dorm to calm down in the quiet” changes to plan “avoid Ritch while finding a good place to calm down in”.

“Fucks sake, Connor!” Mr. Anderson calls again, once more sounding like that wasn’t the first thing he’s said to the younger man since he had zoned out.

Connor immediately tenses, not liking when people start raising their voices at him, and snaps out of his thoughts again. Here he is, causing problems and inconveniences for people again, just like the fuck up he’s been lately. He needs to find a calm, peaceful place to relax sooner rather than later; he can’t be in public any longer like this.

“I’m sorry,” Connor takes a step back, then another, all while curling into himself, “I must have taken a wrong turn, I apologize for taking up your time,” He takes a few more steps back, not lifting his gaze from the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave now. Sorry again–” Connor finishes weakly and darts out of the area, giving Mr. Anderson no chance to say anything to him.

He tries to force his head to stay in the real world so he can actually register where is and find out where he’s going, but it’s slowly getting more difficult. He speed walks through the huge jaeger storage room, easily dodging all of the busy people moving about and doing their jobs. After a particular quick change in direction to avoid the woman with her nose in her clipboard, Connor is painfully aware that his leg is still throbbing from this morning, despite the painkillers he was given.

At the reminder of the training room, he quickly finds a safe spot to stand in then checks the time. He hadn’t realised how much time has passed since lunch, and he isn’t sure how long of the past hour and a half was spent in the gym people watching and how much of it was spent wandering around aimlessly. He supposes it doesn’t matter at the moment. What does matter is that the training room should be empty by now, since everyone should be taking the written part of the exam so they can get a break from the physical exertion.

Connor eventually makes it to the vacant room successfully. No one else tried to stop him or talk to him. No one else seemed to take any particular note of him at all. There was no sign of Mr. Anderson, Gavin Reed, or Ritch that he’d been able to find. He should be safe here.

The first thing he does when he enters the room is find the best spot to spend over an hour in. He decides to camp in the left corner of the room, leaning against the wall the doorway he entered from is on. A minute or so of sitting and bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers pass before Connor decides to do some stretching. Yoga has always been his guilty pleasure and one of the few things that calmed him down completely. Besides, Amanda never complained about him being more flexible during fights. She said it complimented Ritch’s more solid technique.

Why does every little thing bounce back to her? Stop that. She’s gone now, so stop thinking about her. Stop thinking…

He isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knows he’s been in the Child’s Pose for a fair amount of time, if the pin pricks in his calves and feet and the ache rising in his knees and lower back have anything to say about that. With a quiet grunt, he rolls onto his back and straightens out his body, trying to stretch out all of the aching joints and muscles. Connor doesn’t think it would be as bad if it was his entire body that ached, because then it would be easier to ignore it and move on.

“Oh shit. Connor, what are you doing in here?” North asks, making Connor jump.

Connor should have realized that he wasn’t alone in the room. With how tired he was, and still is, there’s no way he would have woken up on his own while the sun was still up.

Connor notes the random sounds of concern and confusion and the footsteps growing closer to him. He decides to go with sarcasm and humor, rather than the blunt truth. He’s already caused enough inconveniences today, and he knows this group well enough to know that they won’t somehow be offended by it.

“Oh, you know. Just doing yoga. I don’t recommend falling asleep in the middle of a pose though…” Connor fails to cover a groan as he sits up. His legs have gotten a bit better, but his back and ankles certainly haven’t yet. “Yea, definitely not the best position to fall asleep in.”

Markus offers a hand to lift him up to his feet, and Connor gladly takes it. “Why are you doing yoga in here of all places? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

“I didn’t even know you did yoga,” Josh jumps in.

Connor elects to ignore Markus’ question for the time being, “It’s always been a guilty pleasure of mine, and once my… Once the person who was taking care of me and Ritch figured out I was doing yoga in my spare time instead of doing extra studying, she didn’t actively try to stop me.” He starts leaning and twisting his torso in different directions to try to stretch his back, grimacing at how it pulls at some of the bandages and injuries on his torso. “She actually said that my flexibility and fluidity in fights complimented Ritch’s more rigid and solid form.”

“Jesus,” Simon breathes out, “The way you and Ritch describe– Amanda was it?” Connor nods, “Makes it seem like she wasn’t your stepmother at all.”

One would think that Connor would learn to think before replying.

“That’s because she really wasn’t.” He finally straightens up for good, his back better, now. “I think she only adopted us because we said we wanted to become jaeger pilots when we grew up. Well, I did, anyway.” Connor adds that last part softly, massaging his left palm with his right thumb.

“Wait,” Josh blurts, “You said her name was Amanda?”

“Yes?” Why does Josh look like he’s found the missing last piece to a 500 part jigsaw puzzle?

“Amanda, as in, Amanda Stern? Do you share her last name?”

Seeing how everyone’s eyes light up confuses Connor even more. He’s definitely missing something here.

“Yes? Have you met her before or know somebody else who has?”

“Have we met her!?” North suddenly exclaims, “Are you kidding me!? Only a small group of people have met her, everyone else just knows of her and her work! She’s a fucking legend among the jaeger pilot and special forces trainers! She always trains the best fighters! No wonder you two are so far out of our league! Especially if you’ve been in her care for so long!”

“I didn’t realise she was popular.”

“She’s more than just popular. She’s downright famous within the jaeger and military community.” Simon corrects.

“I’m actually shocked you didn’t know. Did you never question what those gatherings were, as you and Ritch call them?” Josh asks.

“Uh, no? Asking particularly dumb questions usually meant more work the next day for us, so neither of us wanted to ask. We just knew that wealthy people came over for conversation and drinks and we had to stay out of the way unless sought out and spoken to.”

Markus seems to snap out of his silent contemplation then. “More work for asking dumb questions. A life wearing nothing but uniforms and sleepwear, little to no toys and electronics growing up despite her having the funds for more than enough. That mixed with how you guys are pretty much soldiers already and claim to have learned most of it on your own… She does not sound like someone who deserves the high praise she gets. It all sounds questionable at best.”

“I mean… I guess? But she was only trying to get us used to following orders and stuff so we wouldn’t get in trouble here.” Right? “I don’t think she wasn’t a bad person? She just liked having things a certain way and was very determined to get it that way. We just weren’t good enough pilots for her in the beginning, is all. She was very nice and pleasant to us when we did something right, and always was to other people, too.”

Whatever Markus is thinking, Simon catches on too. Maybe they have the telepathy thing that Connor and Ritch have, too. “Were you and Ritch holding back this morning?”

Connor doesn’t know where this is going, but he doesn’t like it.

“What do you mean? We were told to go all out so we could be evaluated properly.”

“That’s what you were told to do,” Markus puts a kind hand on his shoulder. It’s oddly and undeniably comforting. “But did you actually?”

“No. We held back.” Ritch’s voice says from the doorway, having just popped in, “We had to be at least a little more gentle than usual because we were on those thin mats, and not mud or thicker foam like we’re used to. But after seeing everyone else’s skill levels this morning, we decided it would be best to blend in and hold back more.”

“What happened to keeping that hidden? What if Luther and Chloe find out?” Connor steps towards his brother, causing Markus’ hand to fall from his shoulder.

“I see no reason to hide that from this group in particular.” Ritch remains as stoic and unbothered as always. “They’ve proven themselves to be trustworthy, and at least two of them had already figured it out. It’d be more effort to try to continue hiding it from them.” Connor goes to retort, but Ritch continues, “Why are you getting upset? I thought you wanted to come clean?”

Connor has to curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw to keep the angered words and growls from leaving his mouth. It doesn’t help in the slightest that he never got to properly calm down from the fight earlier. He just fell asleep on the floor.

“What brings you here, Ritch?” he asks calmly, instead.

He rolls his eyes– a thing he would have gotten smacked for if they were still under Amanda’s roof, Connor’s brain supplies. “Well, you kind of stormed out earlier.”

“That generally means that person doesn’t want to be in the other’s presence anymore.”

“Oh would you stop being a child for two seconds and come with me to eat dinner. You need to eat and we can finish talking then.”

Connor sharply looks to the side. “I’ll be there in a few. Go ahead without me.” He continues as Ritch opens his mouth to say something, “And if you just stay here and wait for me I will purposely skip dinner and breakfast tomorrow. And you know I’ve lasted longer without food before and it won’t faze me.”

“And you know it won’t faze me either.”

“Won’t it?” Connor usually lasted just over three days without food before giving in during Amanda’s “survival evaluations”. Ritch only lasted one and a half on average.

There’s a heavy, tense silence where Connor is painfully aware of the other four’s presence, and that they have no clue what to make of this or how to handle it. Thankfully, Ritch caves first with a sigh.

“Fine then, but I don’t want you near Mr. Anderson.”

Connor clenches his fists and law. “Good thing you’re not my guardian or superior then.”

“He is, though. Your superior.”

“And he hasn’t kicked me off of his table yet. And don’t even claim that he could be letting me stay just to be polite or whatever. We both know he isn’t like that.”

Another silence, less tense and much shorter this time, though. Yet it’s broken by Ritch’s sigh once more.

“Fine.” He snaps, shaking his head, “It’s your life, your downfall, your embarrassment, and your panic attack when he comes to dislike you.” He turns around and starts walking out of the room. He doesn’t pause as he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t come crying to me this time. This will be all your doing, and I am not your guardian.”

“Wasn’t going to.” the other half calls back.

Well that was a disaster. Well, not so much of a disaster as a wreckage of notable size. Here Connor was, thinking that it would be himself that would ruin his relationship with Markus, North, Josh, and Simon, but oh no. No, it was going to be Ritch that destroyed it in the end. That robotic asshat.

Well, time to do some damage control.

“I am so sorry you guys had to see that–”

“Are you two like this all the time?” Josh interrupts.

His question makes him freeze and stumble over his previous thought. Why would he care how he and Ritch act around one another?

“Yes and no? I mean, when we’re not talking business, we’re either doing our own thing and leaving each other alone or training together, but our arguments don’t usually last this long. It’s usually solved one way or another by now.” Connor takes a deep breath, and finally relaxes his fists and stature, not realizing he was tense for a fight. He turns to the group that is now cautious, not unlike treading on eggshells, but not treating him as if he were delicate or unpredictable. More like unsteady, if he was forced to choose a word. “You guys know how siblings are, after all. This will pass.”

No one says or indicates anything. Are siblings not usually like this?

Markus takes a step forward. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but were you and Ritch pitted against each other often?”

Connor almost considers leaving the room right then, making use of the out he was given. He’s been talking way too much today, anyway; he feels the way his throat is getting hoarse with how much he’s been using his voice. On top of that, he just doesn’t want to go into detail about their training. He doesn’t want their opinions of him or Ritch to change because of what they’ve done in the past. Although, if his twin didn’t feel like waiting until they were alone to continue their dispute, then why should Connor spare him of this?

“I was under the impression that everyone fought against their partner in order to train. It helps both trainees’ styles to be either complementary to one another or near identical, and it helps them think in similar or complementary ways during battles, too. Did you guys not spar against each other regularly?”

“There’s a difference between sparring against your partner and being pitted against them, Connor.” North responds this time, uncharacteristically subdued.

“Well, yes, I suppose so…” There are so many regrets right now. After this, he’s just not going to talk anymore. It’s not worth it.

Simon takes a slow step forward, watching his reaction, “Stop me if I’m going too far, but were you guys ever told to fight with the intentions to harm or subdue each other, rather than just to train? ‘Cause that is usually considered illeg–”

–hand in his hair, boot digging into his back. He can’t breathe, he may as well be drowning on the mud he’s being pushed into–

“No.” he says with a sharp shake of his head. Whether it’s an answer to Simon’s question or a reaction to his thoughts, not even Connor himself knows.

–he takes the knife from his leg, wincing and hissing as it tears through–

No.

–loses his grip, causing him to be pinned again. He can’t move his arm. Why can’t he move his arm?–

No, no no no no no–

–it’s cold in summer..? Why is my vision so blurry? Wait, why am I alone now? No, wait! Don’t leave me! Please! I’ll do better! I promise I’ll do bet–

“Connor?!”

Connor finally snaps out of it with a small gasp, realizing that his vision really is getting blurry, but for a different reason. Crying is extremely disgraceful and impolite, especially in front of others. You have to be on your best behavior in front of people, and crying and curling up on the ground is not good behavior. He straightens up and forcibly relaxes his posture, using a single knuckle to wipe the threatening tears in the corners of his eyes. It’s now that he realizes he was beginning to hyperventilate. He needs a minute to be alone and calm himself, but he doesn’t want to be left alone. He really doesn’t want to be left alone–

Ah, but he isn’t alone right now and they won’t be leaving him, he can distantly hear them telling him that right now. Maybe there’s a chance they won’t completely avoid him in the near future. Although, for now, he needs to be fine, and his small group of allies certainly don’t see him as fine right now. He needs to calm down. He’s making a fool of himself in front of them. He needs to reassure them that he’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’ll definitely be fine–

“Connor, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. I apologize for the way I reacted just then.” Manners are key, especially when forced to cut a conversation short. He bows his head with practiced grace, “And to answer your question, no, we weren’t ever told to fight each other with such an intent. Honestly. It– ah– we weren’t technically against each other…” He looks up at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly dinner time. “Ah, you guys came in here earlier for a reason and I just keep getting in the way. My apologies.” Markus opens his mouth to speak, but Connor doesn’t give him time. “Thank you for keeping me company, though.”

“Connor, I’m sorry for asking–”

No no no. Can’t think of that. Don’t think. It never happened. It was just a bad dream. Just think of it as a bad dream. Ritch said it would help. Amanda may lie, but Ritch doesn’t. Does he?

“No no, you’re quite alright. You didn’t know, it wasn’t your fault. It’s natural for people to be curious, and it really wasn’t that bad. I simply have a habit of over reacting to things.” Connor tries to make his following laugh sound genuine, but falls short. “Well, I should go now. Dinner will be starting soon and you still have business to attend to. I’ll see you guys later if you’re interested.”

Connor finally manages to shuffle out of the room, but he never makes it to dinner that night, even if he told Ritch he would. Despite what he just claimed, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to talk to them again. People hate when others are large burdens, and that’s exactly what he’s becoming for them. He thought he could be better with fresh, new faces, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. It’s not how it works. It won’t ever be how it works, so it’s better to just leave them alone and let them have peace.

Ritch was right. He probably needs to start leaving Mr. Anderson alone. He understands now. Maybe he can still sit there to be alone? But why would he stay here at the base just to be alone? If he can’t even handle getting casual friends, how will he ever find a partner? And Connor’s replaceable in a way the ex-pilot is not, so they would not be nearly as patient with him.

Does that mean he needs to quit after all? What could he even do if not this? What would Ritch do? Connor’s the reason he’s even here in the first place. He’s the reason Ritch will be stuck in a life style he never particularly wanted growing up. Why can’t Connor ever do anything right? Everyone is right, he’s too naive, too childish, too quick to get too deep into things. It needs to stop. He’ll pack his things tomorrow and tell the instructors about all of this and he’ll be gone by tomorrow evening or the next morning, whenever Ritch isn’t around. If Ritch finds out he’ll definitely blame Connor and make him stay with him as payback or something. Connor can’t stay, though. He’s useless.

His room’s door opens with a creek, causing Connor to instinctively curl into himself, but he forces himself to relax and slow his breathing. If Ritch thinks he’s asleep when he gets back, he’ll leave him alone. With every footstep, adrenaline rushes through Connor. He’s distantly aware that he’s being like this because he’s afraid Ritch is going to pop out of nowhere and confront him, knowing he won’t have the energy to fight back now. They’ve been arguing all day and a good chunk of yesterday too, it’d only make sense for Ritch to try something like that.

Instead of doing so, though, Connor simply changes into sleeping clothes and climbs into bed. The main light was never turned on, so the room has been coated in darkness from the start. After some time of resting, though, there’s the creak of the door, then a click accompanied by a soft, yellow light flooding the room. It stays on for a long while before Connor hears Ritch shifting around again. This time, the other twin climbs out of the lower bunk and sounds like he’s about to put on his real clothes again, but pauses in the process.

“Connor.” The man in question can hear the stern frown in Ritch’s voice. He uses all of his self control to not stiffen because of it, but it apparently wasn’t good enough. “Connor, I know you’re up. Why didn’t you eat?” that same stern frown is likely still on his face.

Connor doesn’t move, hoping that if he keeps up the act and ignores his racing heart, Ritch will convince himself that he was just seeing things. He knows it’s not a realistic thing to hope for, but still.

“Connor, even if you weren’t up before, I know you would be by now. Why weren’t you in the food court? The others were.”

No response. He remembers what he said before in the training room, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore. It just makes things worse. Besides, his throat is still a bit scratchy.

“Fine. Be a child. I don’t care. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.”

No, wait, please don’t leave. I take it back, I’ll get better at talking so I can do it without messing up, like you can. I’ll teach myself how to respond better so I don’t have to worry about making things worse anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want anyone to hate me. I don’t want to be alone again. Please–

“Connor?” Soft footsteps creep closer. “Are you crying?” If Connor didn’t know better, he’d almost say that Ritch sounded concerned.

Before responding, he takes a shaky breath so he can speak without too many tremors in his voice. “I’m not crying.” Another, shorter breath. “It’s impolite and childish, especially in front of people.” The next breath is shakier, and definitely a give away that he’s slowly failing his attempt at not crying. “I’m fine. You need rest.”

��Connor–”

“You’re not my guardian. You don’t need to babysit me. Just let me self destruct like you said you would. It’s not even anything serious. Goodnight.” Just because his sleep schedule is going to be completely ruined, doesn’t mean Ritch’s has to be as well.

“Connor…”

He doesn’t respond.

There’s a shuffle of Ritch sitting down on the bed as he asks, “Did they ask more questions?”

“Yes, but you were there for them.” Maybe he’ll let him go to sleep if he plays along.

“Was that the only thing they asked?”

Connor sighs, annoyed. “Yes.”

“What did they ask?”

Connor finally makes himself sit up. “Ritch, I just said–”

“Connor.” If a tone of voice could paralyze, Connor wouldn’t even be able to blink.

He sighs again, this time in defeat. “If I tell you, would you let me sleep?”

“Depends on if what I’m told and if it’s a lie or not.”

Connor hesitates.

“...if I promise to tell the truth, will you leave me alone?”

“Depends on what the truth is.”

“Then no.”

Ritch jumps up from where he sat on his lower bunk. “Connor! I swear to god–”

“They brought it up, okay? God, are you happy now?”

“Brought what up, Connor? Use your words–”

“It.” he snarls, “They asked a question that made me think of when it happened. And I know you aren’t as affected by it as I am, but I can’t handle anything like you can. I just can’t...” Connor finally lets himself fall back down on his bed in a desperate attempt to hide the silent tears that are finally falling.

This time, Ritch is the one that doesn’t have a response. Good. Let him think about when it happened. Let him suffer just like Connor was trying to avoid because he’s a nosy prick.

Ritch heaves a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I can talk to them about it tomorrow, try to calm them down. They’re probably very worried about you or both of us now.”

Connor grunts. They probably should be worried, but he knows that leaving things as they are now would only make things worse for himself in the long run.

“Connor.” Another grunt. “Please try to eat something tomorrow. I’ll talk to Luther to see if you can take tomorrow off. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“I’m not a child anymore.” he grumbles.

“No, you’re not.” he agrees softly.

Another grunt, this time followed by a heavy sigh. He won’t be getting that break. Even if he did get it, the chances of him being put in the danger zone of being sent home are more likely than most of the other trainees. If he can’t even handle being here for two days without becoming so completely and utterly useless, then what business does he have trying to be a fully-fledged pilot? None, that’s the answer.

He is distantly aware that Ritch has started trying to talk to him again, but Connor really just wants to go to sleep and forget about today, and so he does. He assumes his twin goes to bed soon after he did, though, because when he tries to wake Connor up for breakfast the next morning, he appears to be well rested. No obvious dark circles or bags under his eyes, no sluggish movements, his eyes clear. That’s good. Ritch will do just fine here. He knows how to talk like a normal human being and responds to others well. He’ll definitely find a new partner in no time.

Ritch walks out the door. Connor almost tries to get up to get ready for class, then figures that if he’s actually going to quit soon, then he may as well just stay put. Therefore, he’s still in bed by the time breakfast ends and the first class begins. No one tries to come get him. He’s not surprised, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still sting. He tries to convince himself that it’s just because Ritch told everyone that he needs a day off, but, if anything, that makes the sting in his chest worse for some reason.

He’ll try going in after lunch, after he’s had some time to settle down a bit.

After deciding on that, he goes to his dresser drawer and pulls out the small bottle of strong sleeping essential oil that Ritch and Amanda have no clue he has, let alone needs often enough for it to maybe be unhealthy. Here, he has it stuffed in the back of his dresser-locker under some clothes. He rubs a bit of it onto his foot then pulls a sock on because he doesn’t want that horrendous smell getting all over his sheets. His head doesn’t even quite make it onto the pillow properly before he’s out like a light.

Sleeping means no thinking, and no thinking means no stressing, after all, and that oil does a damn good job at knocking people out.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait! I promise future updates won’t take this long! I’m just in the middle of a move and life kinda bitch slapped me outta no where there for a hot minute, but I think things are going better now. The next update probably won’t be as soon as I want it to be, but y’all won’t have to wait four months again Lol. Thank you to anyone who stuck around this long, despite me being new Heheh 😄 Thank you for reading and I hoped y’all didn’t hate it!! I absolutely promise that next chapter will be filled with lots of comfort and fluff!! 😄💖💕

#reed900 #gavin reed x rk900 #reed900 fanfic #reed900 fanfiction #reed900 au #hankcon #hankcon fanfiction #hank x connor #hannor fanfic #hannor fanfiction #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh fanfiction #hannor au #hankcon au #slow burn #pacific rim!au #The Drift Between Us #Chapter 3

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 147: Togawice

Previously on BnHA: There was a really cool 3rd Anniversary color page, followed by ELEVEN FUCKING PAGES of Hot Gum and Chance the Rappa talking about Rappa’s incredibly boring backstory, and how everyone loves Kirishima and he’s so manly and awesome and brave, and what even is Overhaul’s plan anyway. Hot Gum treated Kiri’s wounds, though, so that’s good at least. Then we finally cut to Overhaul, who was holding a case of what he called “the finished product”, which doesn’t sound like it bodes too well for our heroes. Something else that doesn’t bode well for them is the fact that Toga and Twice are apparently chilling out in these tunnels too! And ready to go to work! And I swear to god, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone on the villain team in my entire goddamn life. Please oh please get us out of this insufferable plot limbo.

Today on BnHA: Irinaka, a.k.a. the “I’m a basement” guy, finally starts to reach his limits. In a last-ditch ploy, he splits off Aizawa, Deku, and RockLockRock from the rest of the group, with RLR being all on his own. Toga appears from the shadows and stabs RLR a couple of times, before taking on his form in order to deceive Aizawa and Deku. She tries to stab Deku, but Aizawa grabs her with his capture scarf, so she stabs him instead. Having now obtained his blood as well, she disappears again, and we’re treated to a brief flashback showing how Overhaul requested the use of some of Tomura’s henchmen in order to “build some trust.” Back in the present, Twice and Rappa appear, ready to take on Sir Nighteye.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 176 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

“togawice” are you fucking kidding me. that’s amazing

(ETA: this might honestly be my favorite chapter title so far)

you know what’s also amazing? the fact that this means they will definitely be in this chapter, and we won’t instead cut to Lock Rock (Rock Lock??) fighting for another three chapters and having flashbacks to his own sad childhood when everyone thought he was gonna be a villain because his Alohamora quirk was only suited for robbing banks and shit

(ETA: big swing and a miss there as far as guessing what RLR’s quirk was going to be lol. but you only live once!)

oh my god you guys

I’m gonna cry. this was all I wanted, this whole time

anyway so the walls are doing that warping around bullshit again. shouldn’t that quirk-enhancing drug have worn off by now? it feels like it’s been a thousand years since they first entered this basement. that stuff packs a serious punch

oh shit

well this is nightmarish

and then there’s a panel of Irinaka’s face, kind of merged with the wall similar to how Voldemort’s face was doing its thing on the back of Professor Quirrell’s head

Nighteye is shouting Lock Rock’s name and Lock Rock is getting all pissy just from that. like, he’s all “don’t go acting like the leader now when we’re only in this mess to begin with because of your mismanagement”

but he’s still doing whatever Nighteye was gonna ask him to do. which, apparently, is “locking” one of the walls in place

so is this like a quirk that freezes things? that’s really fucking handy actually

let’s take a look

“excluding living things” damn, for a minute there I was ready to put this right up there among the most powerful quirks. ah well, it’s still cool

of course, Irinaka is still attacking from the points that LR didn’t lock down

“watch out!” oh, fucking good advice there. you know you’re reading a comic book when shit is going down and someone shouts this

OH MY GOD

WHAT’S THIS KID’S NAME AGAIN? IT’S BEEN SO LONG. HE WAS THE MAIN CHARACTER, RIGHT??

so they’re not being crushed, at least, but their progress has still been halted until they can deal with this asshole already

LR’s shouting at Aizawa, but he can’t use his quirk until they figure out where Iri’s physical body is

on the plus side, Iri appears to be having some difficulties of his own

who is narrating. Horikoshi?? future Deku??

(ETA: there are two “narrators” in the anime, right? Deku does some voiceovers, and then there’s this other voice that narrates the quirk descriptions and some other things. so I wonder who’s going to end up voicing this bit. feel like it could go either way)

well anyway

yeah, yeah. let me just play a sad song for him on the world’s smallest violin and all that

all I’m asking for is that he goes down by the end of this chapter. I’m so sick of this shit

so he’s thinking Gandalfy “you shall not pass” thoughts, and thinking that Overhaul won’t forgive him if he lets them through

Deku’s out here summarizing the last ten chapters or so

I KNOW

hot damn but I have missed his determined face, though!

YOU TELL HIM DEKU. HELL YEAH, THAT’S WHY YOU’RE OUR PROTAGONIST

-- what the

fucking look at that. we should have had Deku yell at the wall a good dozen chapters ago. we could have avoided that whole mess

also, didn’t they just tell us that LR’s quirk locked things to a point in space? and yet that wall is now gone. what’s the deal

and now... stuff... is happening? they’re being attacked by fast blurs of movement

okay I know it’s technically his hero name and all, but it’s still weird as hell to see Aizawa calling him “Deku” and not “Midoriya”

(ETA: lol okay y’all, so first off, let me tell you that I’ve somehow become convinced that Bakugou is going to end up choosing “Kacchan” as his hero name for reasons barely known even to himself. “hello makeste, have you even met Bakugou,” you say, and yeah. I know! he’s a 16-year-old thug who dresses in all black and says “fuck” every third sentence! not a cute and cuddly mascot character with a high pitched voice! I’m aware lol. but idk, he’s also the type of character who notably doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone else thinks, as well as the type to make the occasional impulse decision based on his repressed emotions. so I’m just saying, maybe something character developy happens shortly before (or during) the license retest, and we get another flashback, and in the moment for him it just feels right. idk!

but I do know that the only thing he’d have to say to justify it when he’s inevitably asked “lol dude, wtf” is, “fucking get over it. that’s the name of the future number one hero,” and nothing further would be needed on the subject. and I mean, thematically it mirrors Deku’s name, so yeah. that’s my theory. because if it really was just going to be “Ground Zero” it wouldn’t have been dragged out for so long.

anyway!! so the only reason I mention this to begin with is because I just got to thinking that if I think this is weird, seeing Aizawa -- or anyone else for that matter -- calling Bakugou “Kacchan” in action is going to be next level weird. if it does happen. and idk, the thought just made me chuckle.)

oh shit!

oh my fucking...

okay well. at least the characters I’m interested in are together. but I swear to god if the rest of the chapter deals with Nighteye and LR’s group and forgets about Sensei and his problem child...

ugh. so far this doesn’t bode well because we’ve immediately cut back to the others

they’re pounding on the wall that must’ve sprung up between them and Eraser+Deku and asking if they’re okay, but not getting a response

so they’re basically just standing around waiting for Iri to make his next move

OHSDFHKLHFLKA

I FORGOT SOMEHOW LMAO

YOU KNOW IT’S BAD WHEN YOU’RE ROOTING FOR THE VILLAIN. I DON’T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING AGAINST LOCK’S GRUMPY ASS, I’M JUST SO TIRED OF ALL OF THESE NEWBIES STEALING PAGETIME FROM THE CHARACTERS I’M ALREADY INVESTED IN

(ETA: I’m much more conflicted on my second go around, though. on the one hand I’m still “fuck yeah! Toga!!” but on the other I’m also like THAT MAN HAS A FAMILY lol. but it’s okay, he’ll be fine)

SDFHLKSAHFDLKH THE FUCKING KNIFE WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH AND NOW THERE’S A CLOSE-UP OF IT GOING STRAIGHT THROUGH AAAAAAAND I’M FEELING A LITTLE ILL

but the close-up is important because he did the smart thing and immediately activated his quirk. trying to catch her off guard in that split second before she realizes and lets go of the knife

OH SHIT

I KNOW I SHOULDN’T BE CHEERING RIGHT NOW?? BUT?!

lmao I feel so guilty. but it’s like they purposely tried to make LR as unlikable as possible so that we wouldn’t feel even remotely conflicted when he goes up against the second most likable villain (because let’s face it, Twice is clearly the most likable. even though Toga is my fave)

to be clear, I don’t actually dislike LR in spite of everything, but it just really feels like they did this on purpose though

anyways. my god this chapter is a breath of fresh air. I’m starting to remember what it feels like to be excited about clicking to the next page. I actually want to keep going here

AND HEY LOOK WHO’S BACK

he’s dead guys. sorry

OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS BITCH PLAYING FUCKING MIND GAMES

I LOVE TOGA SO MUCH. and she’s also astonishingly good at thinking on her feet and playing this Mystique role so well, given how unstable she seems to be most of the time. like, she’s crazy, but she’s also really sharp. and I fucking love it

my boy Aizawa has gone over to inspect what we know is actually the real LR

(ETA: I feel like Aizawa should have clued in a bit sooner, though? don’t most quirks deactivate once the user is knocked unconscious? and yet he totally bought into it. lol boy you got played)

Aizawa you might want to turn that quirk on real quick. holy shit if she gets her hands on his blood that’s really gonna complicate things in the future

and let’s not forget, she already has Deku’s blood and can turn into him whenever she wants, which I fully expect her to do at some point to fuck with them even more

I’m so excited omggggg

so now not!LR is going up to Deku all “you okay?”

and then

lmao. for real. I should not be laughing but I freaking am though

OKAY NOW I’M LAUGHING EVEN HARDER

AIZAWA CAN YOU PUT TWO AND TWO TOGETHER A LITTLE FASTER YOU ASS

MEANWHILE YOUR PROBLEM CHILD IS BEING ASSAULTED. BUT SURE, TAKE YOUR TIME

HEY BOI DIDJA MISS ME

did she always have fangs?? also have I mentioned that I freaking love her???

dude, and Twice is also around here somewhere too, right? and we know from the Dabi clones at the lodge attack that when he clones someone, the clones can still use their quirks. so imagine like a dozen more Togas show up and they all turn into Deku. and then Aizawa has a problem, because he can use his quirk, but he’d erase the real Deku’s quirk as well, and then Deku wouldn’t be able to defend himself

(ETA: so apparently Horikoshi has added limiters to both Toga and Twice’s quirks, presumably to make stuff like this impossible. what a shame. but it sure does make things easier for the good guys though lol)

anyway. so Deku is all “TOGA HIMIKO?!!” because he, unlike Bakugou, remembers names

she’s really happy he remembered her name, too

and now Aizawa’s grabbing her with his capture scarf

but we only have a couple pages left in this chapter. and given the title, I’m almost positive this is gonna turn out to be a clone

hey what the hell

well that’s just fucking great

so now Aizawa’s been stabbed, and Toga has both his and Deku’s blood and can play her games

and I mean. I know when I say “that’s just great” it sounds sarcastic, but don’t for a second think I’m not actually loving this

and to put the icing on the cake, they’ve taken their eyes off Toga for a second, and that’s all the time she needed to vanish. we all remember the provisional license exam, of course, where she was able to give Deku the slip with ease even when he was paying attention

Aizawa and Deku, you guys have like two seconds to come up with a password system in order to tell who the real one of you is

so now Toga’s sitting there naked clutching her sweater to her chest and flashing back to something, and I’m not even mad. hell yeah, gimme Toga flashbacks

ladies and gentlemen, ADHD villain icon Shigaraki Tomura

Overhaul says the fun thing about shougi is that you can use the pieces you took from your opponent

and he says he wants to take Twice, and either Toga or Kurogiri

“oh sure, all the useful ones” lol for real Tomura

(ETA: I’m gonna go ahead and take that back, because after that car chase, I’m now fairly sure Compress is actually the strongest one they’ve got. who would’ve thought? I really love it when Horikoshi comes up with thinking-outside-the-box applications for seemingly straightforward quirks)

he doesn’t want to hand them over, but Overhaul says they need to build some trust between them, and he already told Tomura his plan

and now the flashback is ending

aaaaaand...

EYYYYYYYYYY

I’LL GIVE YOU GUYS ONE CHAPTER. YOU HAD BETTER MAKE IT GOOD. YOU’RE LUCKY I’M IN SUCH A GOOD MOOD NOW. THAT WAS AWESOME

BONUS:

lol wtf. [draws the saddest little girl in the world] “nah... too lively”

but like. so there’s just no version of Eri where Overhaul actually let her wear shoes. not even some damn house slippers. poor kid lived in a fucking basement for christ’s sake. man I can’t wait till we get to the Cultural Festival and she gets to dress up and they get her those cute little boots and it’s the cutest thing ever

how old is Eri supposed to be anyway? is that a spoiler to ask? I’m guessing around six, but I really have no idea honestly

#bnha #boku no hero academia #rock lock #midoriya izuku #aizawa shouta #toga himiko #twice (bnha)#bakugou katsuki #(since I found a way to add a long ETA about him out of nowhere somehow)#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this chapter and the next one and the car chase one are by far my favorite chapters in this arc #I still can't get over just how good the development of the league of villains has been #it's gotten to the point where I'm going to be conflicted as hell when they finally have to be taken down #I almost don't even want to think about it lol #I hope the standard comic book rules for recurring villains apply and none of them ever dies #and they keep escaping prison and hatching new schemes and getting captured again ad infinitum #and a few of them maybe get redeemed eventually #in spite of all the murders and such lol #if marvel can redeem fucking loki then these guys should all get some slack cut okay

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bl-giftexchange · 6 years

Text

Out of the Cold

To: @technicolorcatharsis From: @thethespacecoyote

Hey there! I hope you have as good a time reading this fic as I did writing it! Stay warm this season :)

It had been Rhys’ first time staying at Jack’s winter home.

Jack, personally, had thought the designation a little unneeded. He had about a dozen homes spread across the country and even into others, and he was fairly sure at least some of them were currently also being barraged with icy temperatures and flurries of snow. But, to be fair, this home had probably been the most classically quaint out of all of them. When the words “winter home” were spoken aloud, the image that flashed through most people’s minds probably matched up fairly well with the picturesque villa Jack had had built in the fancy, secluded ski town.

The CEO had been pretty damn excited to bring his boyfriend to his house for the first time. Rhys was the kind of guy to get easily dazzled by even the simplest of luxuries, which really helped to make Jack feel like a big man. A moderately fancy dinner or a domestic flight to some cosmopolitan part of the country was more than enough to make his head spin, so surely the rustic little mansion would knock it out of the park.

He’d figured they would hang around the house, cooking and eating and drinking and screwing, then maybe spend a bit of time shopping around the village just a short drive down the mountain. He hadn’t really made many plans for anything else—but, apparently, Rhys had.

He’d been resting on the couch, flicking through the various channels both local and cable, when Rhys had trudged down from the stairs, fully dressed in winter clothes and with a pair of unfamiliar blue skates dangling from his hand.

Jack had raised his eyebrow, lips pursed in puzzlement.

“What you up to, kiddo?” Rhys had smiled, cheeks tinged pink in excitement.

“I noticed a big pond through the trees as we were pulling up, I thought we could go skating.”

“….Skating? Oh, kiddo,” Jack had snorted, perhaps a little too derisively, in retrospect. He should have changed his tune when he’d watched Rhys’ face fall slightly, but no. He’d had to escalate.

“It’s safe to say I can’t skate for shit, but I can’t believe you’d think you could….especially on a lake. It’s not a groomed skating rink down at the mall, powderpuff,” he’d waved Rhys off, recognizing the sour pout that Rhys put on every time he didn’t get his way but missing the genuinely upset twitch in his eyes.

“Well, fine. You know what? I’m going to go alone,” Rhys had growled, hefting the laced skates over his forearm before wrapping a scarf so tight about his neck Jack had been almost sure his pissy little head would pop off.

“You seriously that grumpy ‘cause I don’t wanna skate with you? Correction—don’t wanna fall on my ass while also watching you fall on your ass.”

“Ha ha,” Rhys had spat bitterly as he thrusted the door open, the cold hinges creaking against the wood, “I’ll be sure to send you plenty of pictures of me totally ruling out on the ice. Then you’ll be sorry.”

“Uh huh. Try not to freeze to death.” Jack had murmured idly, waving his hand in the air. The door slam that followed had practically rocked his entire mansion—damn, kid really had an arm, didn’t he?

Jack had tried to put the whole mini-fight out of his mind, figuring that a little bit of ice would go a long way to cool Rhys’ temper and temper his ego. So he’d put his feet up, set the temperature to a toasty eighty degrees, and turned on some crappy reality show about naked people surviving in the wilderness.

Which, of course, he’d ended up falling asleep during. He just wasn’t particularly interested in anything where the nude bits were blurred. Eventually, he snorted himself awake, nearly knocking the remote off the arm of the chair as he started. He’d blinked a couple of times, clearing the fuzziness from his eyes as he smacked his lips. Ugh. Dry mouth. The altitude always got to him like that.

He shut off the TV—now playing some kind of pawn shop show he was even less interested in—and squinted towards the digital display on the DVR.

5:08pm.

Hell. He’d been asleep for three hours? If he didn’t move quick, they were gonna miss their dinner reservations.

“Rhysie?” Jack called out as he fumbled to his feet, thoughts already spinning to the suit he’d had all neat and pressed hanging up in the closet because his boyfriend was always bugging him to wear something nice instead of the same old sweater and jeans. Even though that sweater and those jeans had seen him through some tough times and sticky situations. Ugh. Rhys just didn’t get it—kid practically insisted on a fresh new wardrobe every couple months or so.

“Puuuuumpkin?” Jack called, voice taking on an obnoxiously syrupy tone as he ambled through the house. He peeked his head over the corner into the kitchen, expecting to find Rhys’ warming up with some hot chocolate or snacking on something from inside the fully stocked fridge, but he found nothing. His brows furrowed. Huh.

“You taking a dump or something?” Jack hollered as he thumped up the stairs, but the bathroom light was off. Puzzled, Jack crept into the master bedroom, but that was dark as well. He was on his guard, sure Rhys was going to pop out from the closet and prank him, or grab his ankles, but a quick check through the racks of clothes and under the bed told him that wasn’t the case.

The windows rattled slightly, the wind rustling harder outside. The grey light of the sun passing through the clouds had long dipped to a deeper blue. The porch light outside illuminated the flaking snow. It was really started to come down.

It was starting to come down, and as far as Jack could see, Rhys wasn’t in the house.

Jack tried to rationalize it. Maybe the kid had decided to take the car down to the village to get a snack or something. Except he’d brought the BMW and Rhysie couldn’t drive stick.

Jack didn’t like to worry. He liked feeling in control of the situation, and worry pierced a hole in that. Usually he solved the problem by just not caring about anyone—a method of coping he’d picked up after the second ex-wife—but he’d ended up letting Rhys in. Like an idiot.

And now Rhys was out in the snow, had been out in the snow for hours with a blizzard building and despite the fact that Jack had splurged to set up his own WiFi network that stretched over the entirety of the ground he hadn’t gotten any kind of message from Rhys.

Maybe the kid was just mad at him. Maybe he’d gotten caught up with skating and just lost track of time. But with the sleet starting to lash against the window, Jack couldn’t take the chance.

He thundered down the stairs, sparing a moment to throw on his heavy snow-boots and down jacket, before forcing open the door and trudging out into the thick snow. The wind quickly blew the door shut behind him, stained glass front windows shuddering.

Jack crossed his arms tightly around his chest, shoving his hands into his armpits as he forged ahead in the direction of the frozen lake, hoping that Rhys was still there and hadn’t ended up wandering off. If he had, but was safe, Jack would feel like an idiot. But if he had, and was in trouble, then well…

He didn’t want to think about that too hard, but he still mentally put the local cops on speed dial.

The wind continued to tug at his clothes, his hair already dusted with a fine layer of snowflakes. The sun had long died over the mountaintops, only the faintest glow of purple shining from behind the thick clouds. The moon had started to crest in the sky but it barely illuminated the ground at all. Jack would have to work quickly.

“Rhys! Rhysie!” Jack cupped his gloved hands around his mouth, calling out and hoping his voice carried over the howling wind. Any tracks Rhys might have been made were covered up from the recent snowfall, leaving him stalking practically blind in hopes he would come across his boyfriend safe and sound. He pushed through the thicket of pine that separated his house from the lake, careful to avoid any snow buildup around the trees, heart leaping and clenching simultaneously as he saw the reflection of the icy pond. If Rhys had fallen in somewhere…

It would already be way too late.

Jack called and called as he got closer, his voice strained by the time he entered the clearing rimming the lake. He scanned the banks, trying to find a sign that Rhys had been there, when a faint cry suddenly answered him.

“J-Jack…!”

He took off in the direction of the noise, striding down the snowy bank. Nearby one particularly large pine tree, he could make out a small, blotchy shape that cleared as he ran in closer.

Rhys had fallen into a spruce trap. The snow had swallowed him up to his elbows, his shoulders and head powdered with snow. Jack scrambled towards him, careful of the loose snow himself as he trekked up to where his boyfriend was buried.

“H-Hang on, kiddo, lemme get you outta there,” Jack grunted as he started to scoop at the snow around Rhys’ trapped body, clearing away handfuls of powder and packed ice. He dug a well around Rhys’ torso, working as quickly as he could. The snow, rough as it was, couldn’t keep pace with Jack as he dug down until he reached Rhys’ waist. Jack could see the snow crusted top of the man’s phone peeking out of his frozen pocket. No wonder Rhys’ couldn’t reach him.

Once the top of Rhy’s hips were exposed, Jack wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and pulled, firmly but slowly. Damn the kid’s long-ass legs. They shuddered slightly, trying in vain too help but Jack could guess they were probably too cold and numb to be any use.

Christ. He was grateful that he’d been going to the gym lately, or else he wasn’t sure he’d be able to practically deadlift Rhys out of a deep bank of snow. He almost wasn’t able to, but the pained, scared little whine that escaped Rhys’ chilly lips sent a spark of adrenaline through him that helped him yank Rhys out of his snowy prison and out onto the bank.

Jack patted snow off of Rhys’ body, gloved hands cupping the young man’s face. Rhys’ eyelids fluttered, snow still clinging to his lashes as he looked up at Jack. Little puffs of breath breezed path his lips. Christ. It was so frikkin’ cold.

“I know, I know, I’ve got you,” Jack murmured in answer to Rhys’ tiny, shaky little whimper as he hefted him up in arms. The older man cringed—kid felt like a frikkin’ icicle against him.

Rhys was pale, but his lips still had a touch of pink to them and he was still shivering, not too far gone from the cold that his body wasn’t reacting to it. Jack was still worried, obviously, but at least the situation wasn’t completely dire.

“All right, lets get you inside, ‘kay pumpkin? Get you into some warm pajamas with some nice hot cider. Sounds good?” Rhys lolled his head against Jack’s shoulder, mustering a little nod as he tried to speak. Jack didn’t like not hearing the kid’s sass.

“U-Uh-huh,” Rhys’ teeth chattered together as he snuggled into Jack’s down jacket, mitted hands groping uselessly at the fabric. Jack nuzzled against Rhys’ snow-dusted hair as he hefted his boyfriend in his arms, rising to his feet.

“Stay awake for me, all right pumpkin? If you fall asleep, no hot chocolate,” Jack warned as he followed his rapidly-filling footsteps back through the woods. Rhys’ stiff legs swayed as Jack tramped through the snow with him in his arms, lanky form curled like a child’s inwards. Jack rested his chin atop Rhys’ head, keeping his boyfriend’s cold face tucked in near the warmth of his neck.

The warm lights of hearth seemed so far away, and as Jack trudged through the deepening banks he regretted making the grounds so damn big.

He rested Rhys’ tailbone on his hips, supporting him partially against the front door as he fumbled with the knob, thankful he hadn’t locked it as he shoved it open. The burst of war air that blessed his face sent a slightly-painful twinge through his skin, like he was jumping into a pool of boiling water.

“Ahh, oh my god,” Jack moaned as the door swings shut behind him, sealing in the heat. Rhys perked up a little at the change in temperature, his glassy eyes fluttering open a little wider as he raised his head.

“Don’t worry, cupcake, Jackie’s gonna take care of you, okay?” He assured as he rushed towards the couch, carefully laying Rhys down against the cushions before rushing to swipe through his phone to figure out what to do.

Thank god for Wikipedia.

He ripped off his own gloves, tossing them to the floor before he started stripping the cold, snow-stained clothes off of Rhys’ body. Even the long underwear and socks came off, leaving Rhys completely nude on the couch. Jack shoved away the discarded clothes into a dripping pile, unzipping his own jacket. He patted down his sweater—it was warm from his body heat, protected from the melting snow by the coverage of his jacket. Without a second thought, Jack pulled the garment up over his head.

“And you badmouthed this old thing…” he chuckled softly as he carefully maneuvered Rhys into the sweater, not yet bothering to get the boy’s stiff arms through the holes.

“Sit tight, kiddo, I’m gonna get you some more blankets…” Jack patted his boyfriend’s hair, melted frost clinging to his fingers as he rushes to the closet, piling spare comforters and wool blankets in his arms. He had no electric blankets, but managed to find a couple hot water bottles tucked away on the shelves. He set a pot to boil on the stove, before returning to Rhys’ side.

“These’ll help you out some, sweetie. Right now you’re like an icicle. A Rhysie-pop.” Jack started to pile the blankets on top of Rhys, tucking the first wool blanket around his naked body before layering up on the comforters. Before long Rhys was nice and bundled, little head popping out from the massive, plush cocoon. Jack got on his knees besides his head, petting the warm, damp hair off of his forehead.

Rhys’ eyelids flickered, movements steadily growing more purpose as he moaned, turning his head to the side in the direction of Jack’s hand. A relief little smile curled Jack’s lips as Rhys’ eyes fluttered open wider.

“There we go. Feeling better?”

Rhys breathed evenly, resting his cheek against Jack’s cupped palm. His eyebrows twitched together, knitting in a gentle frown.

“My skates…”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Didn’t see ‘em. We can go out and look for them tomorrow when the snow’s stopped, I guess” Jack muttered, his eyes shifting furtively. Rhys looked up at him, eyes a little less glassy than before.

Jack worried his lip. Now that the adrenaline of his heroic rescue had long passed, the guilt was settling back in. He rocked back on his butt, running his hand through the air, the other trapped underneath Rhys’ cheek.

“Sorry. By the way. Can’t help but…” Jack took a deep breath. “…think this was all ‘cause of me.”

“Jack…” Rhys started, raising his head a little. “I think…”

The sound of the whistling kettle suddenly filled the room. Jack bolted up, skittering off to the kitchen to fill the hot water bottles.

By the time he returned, Rhys had sat himself up slight, his head resting up against the arm of the couch. He watched Jack with that weird expression he had when he sat right on the edge of cracking the secret to a difficult project. Those eyes that seemed older than they should be, off-set by the slight jut of his lower lip.

“Heh, all right, got some piping hot stuff here, destination—Rhysie’s pits.” Jack joked nervously, fingers peeling away the blankets wrapped about Rhys’ body to tuck them beneath his arms. His fingers brushed against Rhys’ sternum, rewarded with encouraging warmth. Jack pulled the blankets back over his boyfriend’s body, standing next to the couch. He rubbed his hands together, annoyed at the uncomfortable feeling in his belly.

Rhys was all warm now….now that he was safe inside, couldn’t he just go to sleep so Jack wouldn’t feel so bad?

“Y…You know…” Rhys murmured, shifting in his cocoon. “I really wanted to go skating…”

Jack winced.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, if I hadn’t been such a prick you wouldn’t have like, almost died.” Jack replied gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest in hope that he could squeeze this uncomfortable feeling up out of his throat or something.

“….M-maybe…” Rhys simpered, shifting slightly to turn his blanket nest towards Jack.

“But…I might have definitely died if you hadn’t come to save me…” Jack perked up as Rhys managed a tiny smile.

“So….good job, hero.”

The guilty feeling inside of him spluttered in confusion. Jack had been expecting the literal cold shoulder, but Rhys seemed weirdly calm and forgiving for someone who had been a couple minutes away from freezing.

Still, he’d take it.

“Guess you’re right, I really am a hero!” Jack proclaimed, smile beaming from cheek to rosy cheek. He bent over Rhys, bracing both hands against the arm of the couch as he towered over him.

“How’s about a kiss for your hero then, princess?” He puckered his lips, only to get Rhys’ still-clammy forehead instead of his lips.

“I’m gonna need to be warmed up a little more before your quest is quite over,” Rhys shimmied, loosening the blankets around his body. Jack quickly picked up on the hint, untucking one side of Rhys’ cocoon and carefully sliding alongside his boyfriend. His snaked his arm over Rhys’ chest, adjusting the hot water bottles before settling his hand on his waist. Rhys’ half naked body shifted slightly to give him room, Jack’s clothed crotch rubbing up against Rhys’ bare leg as his own sweaters-less torso hugged around his boyfriend’s form. His skin was still slightly clammy and damp from the snow, but Jack could feel his body heat recovering as they snuggled underneath the blankets.

“You know…internet says mild to moderate hypothermia can be treated by warming up the groin…”

“J-Jack’…” Rhys puffed, breath chattering. “L-Lemme…defrost a little more first…”

“Shh, kiddo. Just a joke.” Jack kissed Rhys’ cheek, noting with thanks that the slight tinge of pink had returned.

“…Say, I remember you saying something about hot chocolate…”

Jack pecked Rhys’ lips shut.

“Shh. Cuddles first. Then I promise.”

The snowstorm howled outside, lashing the windows with sleet and probably blocking the roads and half-burying Jack’s BMW. Hell, a storm of this magnitude could probably end up knocking out the main power and forcing the chalet to use the backup. But the world outside the walls of the house, as dangerous as it could be, seemed largely irrelevant as Jack cuddled in next to Rhys and shared his warmth.

Before he drifted off to sleep, head resting on the shoulder of his already snoozing boyfriend, he added “new ice skates” to his mental shopping list.

#Borderlands #Handsome Jack #Rhys the Company Man #Rhys the CEO #fic #no holiday theme #sfw #submission

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doc-dearborn · 6 years

Photo

Basics:

Character’s Name → Caradoc Dearborn

Character’s Nickname(s) → Doc

Age → 17

Birthdate → 11th of May

Zodiac Sign → Taurus

Ethnicity → British

Gender → Male

Sexual Orientation → Bisexual

Blood Type → A+

Species → Pureblood

Appearance:

Hair color → Brown

Eye color → Dark brown

Height → 6′ 2″

Weight → 63.5 kg

Scars → A small scar on his hand from a Quidditch injury he got in his first ever game.

Tattoos → None

Birthmarks → Nothing that stands out, a few moles on his back but they’re not that noticeable.

Piercings → None

Dress/clothing preferences → Comfort above fashion. He prefers muggle clothes outside of school time but he has a series of wizarding robes that he feels comfortable in. He usually goes for dark colours and greys, although his Hufflepuff scarf is a signature piece of clothing.

Right/left handed/ambidextrous → Right-handed

Glasses/contacts → Has glasses but only wears them on occasion, he usually wears contacts although he’s been practising a charm that works in about the same way as contact lenses do.

Wizarding World:

Blood Status → Pureblood (by birth, his mother remarried a half blood when he was around 7)

School Attended → Hogwarts

School House → Hufflepuff

War Alliance → Order of the Pheonix

Wand → English Oak, Unicorn Hair, 12"

Patronus → Snow Leopard

Boggart → Someone he cares about telling him they’re disappointed in him

Amortentia → The Hufflepuff Dorm Room, apple pie cooking and fresh earth

Mirror Of Erised → He sees himself as a successful herbologist, a wedding ring on his finger and surrounded by his family and friends.

Family and Relationships:

Parents → Eira and Martin Dearborn are his parents, although his biological father is Abraham Goyle. His mother left him when he was around three years old and remarried when he was seven.

Siblings → None

Grandparents → Martin’s grandfather is the only grandparent still in contact with the family, he is a muggleborn wizard and Caradoc loves spending time with him.

Marital Status → Single

Significant Other → None

Children → He wants to have them some day. Also do his plants count?

Pets → Freckles, his tabby cat

Other family members → Cressida is his ‘sister’, technically they’re actually step siblings now. Their mothers were close friends in school, however when Cressida’s mother remarried (to Caradoc’s biological father) and kicked her out of her home Eira took her in instantly and stopped contact with Cressida’s mother.

Friends → So many. Frank is his best friend without a doubt. Also Ted, Alice, Lily, Dorcas, Mary, Remus and Marlene are people he considers himself close to in his year. As well as that he has the younger students he is incredibly protective of.

Enemies → Rodolphus Lestrange. Pretty much all Death Eaters. He also has the usual rivalry with opposing Quidditch Teams.

Religion:

The religion they follow (if any) → Doesn’t really follow any religion although he believes in an after life.

Superstitions → To an extent. He believes strongly that bad things happen in threes, as well as a few other superstitions his mother has drilled into him. (Don’t put new shoes upon the table)

Location:

Country of Birth → England

Place of Birth (Town, city, etc) → London

First Language → English

Accents → He has lived in Wales since his mother left his father when he was three, so he has a bit of a Welsh accent.

Schooling:

House → Hufflepuff

Best Subject in School → Herbology

Worst Subject in School → Arithmancy

Additional Classes Taken → His additional subjects in third year were Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy and Divination

Quidditch → Beater

Are they a Prefect? → Nope

Extra curricular activities → Nope

Home:

Live with parents/grandparents/alone/other → Live with his mum, dad and Cressida

House, apartment, etc → Small ish home in the countryside of Wales

How Many Bedrooms? → Three

Mode of transportation → Floo Network

Picture of bedroom at home → A little bit like this

Address → Rose Cottage, Pembroke, Wales

Inner Workings Of Your Character:

Secrets → His huge crush on Frank, the fact that he feels super unprepared and lost about his future, he’s scared of what’s lurking at the bottom of he ocean, he’s not really that bothered about winning the Quidditch cup he just hates the idea of Gwenog loosing. That despite all his ego and flare he had a huge crush on James Potter when he was in fourth year.

Fears → That he’s going to die young, without accomplishing anything.

Worries → That he’s actually just a huge disappointment and that his friends will one day inevitably leave him.

Eating Habits → He eats a little more than the normal seventeen year old boy, but eats regular meals at regular times, only snacking occasionally.

Food preferences → He likes desserts (especially when pastry is involved)

Sleep preferences → Late to bed, late to rise.

Book preferences → Sci-Fi, incredibly cheap pulpy science fiction to be exact.

Music preferences → Popular/rock music to be honest, he just likes to dance.

Introverted/extroverted → He does well with people but he has to spend a bit of time alone to recharge, so a bit of both.

Optimist/pessimist → He’d say he’s a realist, even though he tries to look on the bright side when he’s with other people.

Hobbies → Quidditch, herbology, general gardening.

Pet peeves → People gossiping about him, reading over his shoulder, using him for homework help and them blanking him in the corridors.

Prejudices → He tends to assume anyone younger than him will need his help and he is wiser than they are.

Proud of → His family, his friends, his achievements and talent in Herbology.

Biggest vulnerability → He’s deadly terrified of being left alone, or loosing someone due to his own weakness. His friends can be a weakness if they’re being threatened because Caradoc will do anything to protect them. He also tends to look for the best in people.

Embarrassed by → People giving him undeserved praise.

Worst memory → His biological father screaming at his mother, and cursing her when she tried to leave, it’s one of his first memories. It’s joint with the first time he found a younger muggleborn crying after she had been harmed by an older student.

Best memory → One summer he and Frank went flying around the country side all afternoon and finished the evening by having a bbq with Frank’s family and staying up talking well into the evening.

Skilled at → Herbology, judging what people need, quidditch (to an extent)

Unskilled at → General essays, making quick decisions, cooking anything except sweet stuff.

Attitude → He’s got a positive attitude although he will get pissy with people if it’s deserved.

Obsessions → Herbology, he really wants to be the best of the best.

Stresses → The impending war

Addictions → None

Allergies → None

Medical history → The usual scrapes and bruises one gets from being an adventurous kid and learning Quidditch at a young age.

Favourite Object Kept In - And Why:

Their closet → His Hufflepuff Scarf

Their bedroom → Does Freckles count? Because he loves his cat so much

Their purse/bag → His wand.

Their fridge → If it’s present his mums Apple Pie.

Their desk → The photo of him, his parents and Cressida took a few years ago.

Their pockets → He tends to keep a few sunflower seeds and such in his pocket, which is really stupid and makes him smell a little bit like dirt all the time, but sometimes when he’s stressed out he’ll randomly plant some around the gardens in Hogwarts.

Favourites:

Favorite Animal: → Cat

Favorite Band: → Pink Floyd

Favorite Book: → The Time Machine by H.G. Wells

Favorite Color: → Yellow

Favorite Country: → France (his grandpa took him on holiday there)

Favorite Drink: → Orange Juice

Favorite Food: → Apple Pie

Favorite Flavor: → Sugar sweet biscuits

Favorite Movie: → Star Wars: A New Hope

Favorite Musical Genre: → Prog Rock or anything he can dance to

Favorite Mythical Creature: �� Nifflers

Favorite Number: → 4 (his number on the Quidditch team)

Favorite Pastime: → Gardening / Herbology

Favorite Person: → Joint between Cressida Zabini and Frank Longbottom

Favorite Place: → His garden at home.

Favorite Season: → Spring

Favorite Song: → Wish you were here - Pink Floyd

Favorite Spell: → Lumos (makes bedtime reading way easier)

Least Favorite Animal: → Spiders

Least Favorite Band: → Likes most music so doesn’t really have a least favourite

Least Favorite Book: → Great Expectations (his mum made him read it and it was too boring for him)

Least Favorite Color: → Grey

Least Favorite Country: → Hasn’t travelled enough to have one.

Least Favorite Drink: → Coffee (hates the taste)

Least Favorite Food: → Sprouts

Least Favorite Flavor: → Anything too bitter

Least Favorite Movie: → The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

Least Favorite Musical Genre: → He’s not hugely into punk music.

Least Favorite Mythical Creature: → Any that will blow up on him.

Least Favorite Number: → He’s never thought about it.

Least Favorite Pastime: → Jogging

Least Favorite Person: → His biological father.

Least Favorite Place: → The potions room, he always feels claustrophobic.

Least Favorite Season: → Winter (all the plants die)

Least Favorite Song: → You're Sixteen You're Beautiful (And You're Mine) - Ringo Starr

Least Favorite Spell: → Crucio

Sexual Life:

Gender You Last Had Sex With: → Male (in summer, a childhood friend he had lost touch with)

Dominant or Submissive: → He’s pretty flexible but more submissive.

Fetishes: → Praise, lingerie,

Turnons: → Knowing the other person is having a good time, people biting his neck, heavy make out sessions.

Turn-offs: → People who don’t wash, smelly breath

Favourite Position: → He likes to be facing his partner but he’s not that experienced so he’s an awkward fool.

How Active is Your Sex Life: → Not very active at all.

How Did You Loose Your Virginity: → Again, an old friend in the summer holiday before seventh year.

Ever Impregnated Someone or Been Pregnant → Nope

First Love: → He’s never been properly in love, but his first real crush was on Mary in his third year followed by James Potter and the awkward coincidence of anyone in Gryffindor who was friends with either of them.

Who Do You Find Attractive → People who are kind to him, who he can tease and joke around with. He likes genuine people and people who show interest in him. He’s not above finding someone attractive just because they’re cocky and attractive though.

Marital Status: → Single

Do You Have A Significant Other (if yes, how do you feel about them): → No

Personality Classification:

Jung → ENFJ: "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be.

Enneagram → Type 2: I must be helpful and caring to survive. Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. They are friendly, generous, and self-sacrificing, but can also be sentimental, flattering, and people-pleasing. They are well-meaning and driven to be close to others, but can slip into doing things for others in order to be needed. They typically have problems with possessiveness and with acknowledging their own needs. At their Best: unselfish and altruistic, they have unconditional love for others.

Moral Alignment → Neutral Good

Four Temperaments → Melancholic

Vices → Doubt, Envy, Fearfulness, Impatience, Jealousy, Wrath

Virtues → Altruism, Caring, Creativity, Empathy, Gentleness, Understanding

Tropes → The Boy Next Door, Adokable, Chronic Hero Syndrome, The Confidant, Hyper-Competent Sidekick, Platonic Life Partners, Undying Loyalty, Beware the Nice Ones

Statistics:

Compassion → 9/10

Empathy → 9/10

Creativity → 8/10

Mental Flexibility → 5/10

Passion/Motivation → 8/10

Intelligence → 7/10

Stamina → 6/10

Physical Strength → 6/10

Battle Skill → 6/10

Initiative → 7/10

Restraint → 6/10

Agility → 6/10

Strategy → 8/10

Teamwork → 9/10

#bellumvecharacterdev1 #caradoc dearborn

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roman-reigns-princess · 7 years

Text

Cat & Mouse (Roman Reigns): Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Read it on Wattpad Writing Masterlist

Warnings: idk, none really? Asshole!Roman(i guess?), p much smut free im sorry ): there’s one bit that gets a lil gay w/ Lyra and Naomi, that’s all I can think of tbh. I swear tho, next chapter we will get Roman/Lyra smut. RN they’s just gettin ready to go clubbing

Word Count: 1960

A/N: We finally get the Bloodline together, bless, but also i feel like i royally fucked their characters up so like please dont judge me too hard (but if you got any pointers or like corrections feel free to let me know).

Tag List (if anyone wants to be added, let me know): @m-a-t-91 @mrsamberlopezgoodanoai@simulated-heat @greatbreadwizard @hoodgirl163 @sabrina-the-champ @thiickreigns @alexahood21@ii-love-roman-reigns @queenreignsempire @flawlessglamazon @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @x-fivefoot @finnbalorsdemonqueen @romanempirefics @rocketgirl2410 @sausagefest1996 @vebner37@macfizzle @cute-face-chubby-waist @wwefoever70 @horcruxhunter5972 @cool-snowball-22-blog @designrwriterchic @metaldeedsblobfish @inkedirishbbydoll-blog-blog (I got a nasty feelin that I didn’t @ someone, im sorry yall)

As she lay in her bed, she scrolled through her phone one last time to check what had interrupted them, only to find that it was a spam email. Muttering to herself in annoyance, she silenced her phone and set it down on the nightstand before pulling the covers up around her. If there was such a thing as angry sleep, that’s what she was going to be doing that night.

It was well past noon when Lyra finally stirred from her slumber; Roman had let her sleep in. Yawning, and stretching, she slowly got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up.

She groaned to herself when she saw the little bruises that trailed across her neck, courtesy of Roman. Good thing the weather’s kinda chilly today, she thought to herself, there’s no way I can cover that up with makeup, I’ll have to use a scarf.

She took her time getting ready, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a white shirt that had a quote from Game of Thrones on it; that show was one of the many things Lyra and Roman bonded over, and the shirt was a Christmas gift from him.

She sent Naomi a text, asking her if she wanted to get lunch before heading over to the venue. While waiting for a reply, Lyra put on a little green eyeshadow, eyeliner, and some dark pink lipstick. She was wrapping a dark green scarf around her throat when Naomi finally replied.

Naomi: I’m down for some pizza, the boys will be coming along though. You mad enough to skip out on pizza or nah?

Lyra: I’ll be damned if I let HIM stop me from getting pizza 🙄

Naomi: That’s the spirit 😂 I’ll meet you in the lobby in 15? Bring your bags, might as well check out now

Lyra: 😂 Yeah sounds good, I’ll see you downstairs

Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she packed away all the things she’d used. Roman had already taken his stuff down, she assumed, earlier in the day. She pulled on her boots and did one last sweep of the room to make sure that neither her nor Roman left anything behind.

Lugging her bags along, she made her way down to the lobby to check out. She’d just finished up with the receptionist when Naomi and Jimmy walked in through the entrance. Lyra walked over, giving them both a hug before they started walking to the parking lot.

“G'morning, sleeping beauty,” Jimmy teased, earning a dirty look from her, and a jab in his ribs from Naomi. “Ow, baby, what was that for?”

“Leave my girl alone, you didn’t even get up today until I started-,” Lyra was chuckling as Jimmy stopped Naomi with a hand over her mouth. Naomi knocked his hand away, glaring up her mate.

“Baaabe, c'mon, don’t do me like that,” he grumbled as they arrived at the car.

“You’ll be lucky if I do you at all, tonight,” she joked, getting into the backseat; Lyra tried not to laugh when Jimmy gave his mate a slightly panicked look. Lyra shoved her bags into the back then joined her friend in the backseat as Jimmy started the car.

“Aren’t we waiting for Jey and Roman?” She questioned.

“Nah they’re already there, probably eating half the pizzas,” Jimmy replied as drove them out of the lot. ————————- They walked into the restaurant ten minutes later to find Roman and Jey sitting at a table, digging into a pizza each.

“Told ya they’d be gettin a head start on the pizzas,” Jimmy grumbled as he sat next to Roman, swiping a slice from his pizza, making the older Alpha growl. Jimmy simply rolled his eyes in response, and told his cousin to shove it.

Lyra decided to pretend that nothing happened the night before as she sat next to Jey, Naomi squeezing a chair in next to her. Roman eyed her for a moment, she could’ve sworn a slight smirk flashed across his face when his gaze landed on the scarf around her neck.

It took every ounce of her will power to not glare at him, she was still a little pissy about being sent to bed like a child.

“Chill out, we got more coming,” Jey informed them as he picked up another slice. He turned to Lyra with a little frown as she scooted closer to him to give Naomi more space; she gave him a weird look when he leaned in and took a deep breath.

“Can I help you, Jey?” She asked as he straightened up, his eyes flitting back and forth between her and Roman before a smug smile stretched across his face.

“So, y'all finally fucked, huh?” He stated, Roman promptly choked on his drink while Lyra felt her blood rush to her face as she gave Jey’s arm a punch. “C'mon, his scent’s all over you.”

“That’s not, w-we didn’t,” she scrambled to try and come up with something as Naomi and Jimmy stared at her with raised eyebrows. Roman was still coughing and wheezing in his corner.

“Then how’d you explain them hickies,” Jey shot back, pulling her scarf down to reveal the bite shaped bruises that trailed down into her shirt. Lyra smacked his hand away and hurriedly readjusted her scarf while Naomi gave her an indignant look as if to say why the fuck didn’t you tell me.

“I-we-yknow what, Roman, why don’t you explain, you did this after all,” Lyra huffed, turning the attention across the table to the large Samoan still trying to catch his breath.

“Um, we was just fuckin around last night, nothing happened, it was nothing,” he replied, Lyra fixed him with a piercing glare, but he refused to look at her.

“Damn, is it just me or did it get colder in here,” Jey mumbled as everyone turned back to the food.

Lyra knew she shouldn’t care, it’s not like they were dating or anything, but she couldn’t help clenching her fist under the table as Naomi gave her knee a comforting pat. ———————- Days later, Lyra was still salty. She had successfully managed to ignore him for the past few days despite traveling with him and his family. Occasionally she’d catch him staring at her with a weird look on his face, but she pretended not to notice.

It irked her even more that he never actually tried to talk to her, and she certainly wasn’t going to confront him about him basically saying that their connection, relationship, whatever it was between them, meant nothing to him.

She figured that if he had cared enough he would’ve either apologized or at least tried to make up some bullshit excuse for what he’d said. Instead he seemed mostly content with being ignored, and ignoring her.

She knew she had to move on, why should she sacrifice her happiness and wait around for some idiot who wouldn’t even give her a chance. Besides, she had the perfect opportunity coming up.

They’d arrived in Pittsburgh earlier that day, the Royal Rumble was taking place the next day. Naturally, that meant that everyone would be going out that night.

Lyra knew it’d be the best time to find someone to keep her occupied or at least numb herself with alcohol; either way, she was determined to forget about Roman for a few hours and have a good time.

That, however, was easier said than done. Not only would Roman be accompanying her, Naomi, and the Usos for drinks, but when Lyra stepped out of the shower she began to feel feverish, her senses heightened even more than usual, to the point where she was hyper aware of anything touching her.

She grumbled to herself about it as she pulled on some black panties and a matching bra. Digging through her bag she chose to wear a pair of black jean shorts, and a tank top that had a pentagram design on it.

After she was dressed she downed two Advils, then walked over to join Naomi in front of the mirror to do her makeup. She decided to do brown smokey eyes, winged eyeliner, and finished it off with a bright red lipstick.

“Damn girl, you look real good,” Naomi said, running her eyes over her friend’s reflection as she applied some mascara.

“You look pretty irresistible yourself; planning on getting laid tonight?” Lyra replied with a suggestive smirk; Naomi was dressed in a tight red dress that showed off her gorgeous body, there was no way Jimmy was resisting that.

“You know it babe, not that I don’t love rooming with you, but it’s been two days since Jimmy and I did anything and it’s got us all wound up,” she laughed. “But, damn, the way you look and smell tonight, I’m willing to bet you ain’t going to bed alone. What perfume are you using?”

“I’m not using any perfume, not yet anyways,” she replied, looking a little puzzled. “I’m feeling a little feverish, it could be that?”

“No, no, I’ve never smelled anything like it before, you smell really good,” Naomi mumbled, stepping closer to bury her face in Lyra’s hair and take a big sniff; Lyra blushed and shivered a little as that simple movement made her squeeze her thighs together. “I-oh no, oh girl, um you might not wanna go out tonight.”

“W-what, why?” She nearly whimpered as Naomi pulled away; what the hell is going on with me, she thought to herself.

“Um, I, uh, I think you’re going through your heat, or it’s just starting, I don’t know,” replied Naomi, Lydia’s blush deepened as her eyes grew wide. “But like it probably ain’t a good idea to be around a bunch of hotheaded Alphas and Betas.”

“B-but I thought heats were an omega thing, I’m not even a werewolf,” she protested, wrapping her arms around herself defensively, of course something like this would happen to her.

“I mean I’ve heard of shifters getting their heats too, I think it’s the only time they, you, can give off a mating scent or something; it usually starts in your teens or not at all though, didn’t your parents tell you about this stuff?” Naomi questioned, frowning at the younger girl who looked beyond flustered.

“No, my dad’s human, and my mum doesn’t really talk that kinda stuff with me, hell, she probably thought I wouldn’t even get my heat because I’m only half-shifter,” Lyra said, groaning internally as her friend gave her a sympathetic look; she knew she should stay in, but she also really wanted to get drunk off her ass at that moment. “Yknow what, fuck it, Ima still go, all this does is makes me wanna get even more drunk.”

“Bitch, NO, I can’t let you do that,” Naomi insisted, crossing her arms when Lyra pouted and tried giving her puppy dog eyes. “Don’t do that, I can’t, with a clear conscience, let you go.”

“Buuuuuuut I’ll be with you guys, besides what’s stopping me from going out on my own? I’ll be much safer with you there to keep an eye on me,” Lyra begged. Naomi groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Fine, fine, I guess that’s some good points,” she sighed exasperatedly as Lyra gave her a big smile. “But you’re going to wear one of my jackets, hopefully that’ll mask you scent a little.”

“Yes, mom,” Lyra replied, walking over to Naomi’s bags as the older girl rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror to finish up her makeup. Lyra went through her stuff until she found a black leather jacket that she had been meaning to borrow.

Once they were done, they grabbed their phones, and hid their credit cards, IDs, and keycards in their bras before pulling on some shoes. Naomi wore a pair of tall, black pumps that made her ass look even better than Lyra thought possible, and Lyra wore a pair of black high heeled, thigh high boots.

Finally around 9pm, they headed out of the hotel to meet the men in a club a couple blocks away.

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anyu-blue · 6 years

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