#and its all scratched up. so i can only get up to the theater world before everything freezes and i cant get further

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 5: Relations and Reminisce

“And you said yes?!”

“For the tenth time Ivy, yes.”

“I can’t believe it.” She throws her arms up dramatically. “I thought you were smart. How could you throw away any chance of escape for group therapy?”

I just spent the night in a black hole. Literally all light is gone from my isolated cell except for a tiny floodlight that only projects more spooky shadows on the gloomy walls. I don’t mind some free time to myself but it’s an overabundance I could do without. But today is my first day with Crane’s “experiments” and I hope they will distract me from the dreary lonesome.

“I applaud Calico for her bravery,” Nigma looks up from the crossword puzzle he’s working on. “Crane’s a hard nut to crack but I think she can handle him.”

“But she’s new to Arkham. Callie’s fresh meat for Crane.”

“Guys, guys.” I hold up my hands. “I’ve handled lunatics each day for three years.”

“Yeah, but this is Dr. Crane. The Scarecrow. You’ll never sleep again after he gets through with you.”

“Sleepless nights are a fear of childhood, Nigma. If anything I’m ready to embrace death come what may.”

The pair look at me as if I just announced that all the kittens in the world died. They’re supposed to be the lunatics but they look at me as if I’m just as mad as any other inmate.

“What? I’m well aware of universality. Death is unavoidable to every living thing at every moment of its life.”

Ivy and Nigma don’t appear to have a response and the room stays quiet, that is until slow clapping breaks the silence.

“Quite philosophical, Dr. Prentiss. Perhaps that can be extended further during your testing today.”

Dr. Crane’s voice pierces my thoughts with a chilly imagination. All morning I’ve been worrying about what tests he has planned. Strap me to a chair? Hang me upside-down? And what type of toxin? Air-based? Water-borne?

Ivy senses my discomfort and steps in front to block him. “You’ve stooped low, Crane. Testing on an innocent woman? You’ve got some nerve.” She flicks a few specks of pollen on him and I see Crane’s eyes go wide. “Just watch it. If she dies I may just have to cause a breakout and show them the basement.”

Basement? I know Arkham has a basement but what's so significant about-?

“And I can make sure your babies get tossed in the next compost bin,” Crane replies harshly and grabs my arm to pull me away before Ivy can scratch his eyes out while Nigma just laughs. “How can you even stand to talk to that enviro-mental-whacko?”

“Just because your toxin doesn’t work on her doesn’t give you a reason to be cross,” I answer calmly as we head into the cold, dark hallway. “At least she gives me the time of day, unlike my previous co-workers.”

We enter further into the maze of abandoned hallways and come across what appears to be a room that was used for an operating theater. Although he has no audience I shudder to think of what Crane’s prepared to show off. 

“Step up, please.” Crane gestures to the platform at the center of the room. One with restraints.

“Are you going to-?”

“Yes,” he replies. He knows what I’m thinking. “They will help protect you from hurting yourself. I’ve seen unrestrained patients carry out extreme measures, some including pulling their eyes out or running into the wall.”

I follow his instructions and lean up against the cold concrete. When I look over I see he’s preparing multiple syringes on the table.

“Just how many toxin variations do you have?” I ask with a hint of nervousness.

“Variety brings results. Right now I’m hoping to find a special dose to give to the lunatic who’s been interrupting my associates’ plans.”

The talk of Batman has only grown in the past few days I’ve been here and I can’t say I’m not curious. Rumors say he’s doing the police’s job and actually cleaning out the city’s criminals.

“He’s got you worried,” I say almost tauntingly as the doctor attaches my wrists to the straps.

“Don’t start,” Crane warns. “Soon he will seek out the drugs I’ve hidden and then I will give him an introduction he’ll never forget.” His crystal eyes drift over to face me directly. “I thought you were interested in the science of fear, Dr. Prentiss.”

“Unlike you I’m a psychiatrist with morals. One who doesn’t test toxins on patients. Get back to me when you’re not trying to kill the only justice in this world.”

He hums in response and returns to tightening the straps around my legs. “So you’re on the Batman’s side?”

“I’m on the side of justice, one you are very unfamiliar with. And by the way my interest is focused on death and the fear that revolves around it.”

Crane gets up and walks over to grab the first syringe with child-like giddiness. “We’ll start with one dose so it can filter out of your bloodstream. Then after the antidote kicks in we’ll go onto the next. I’ll administer this one through your brachial artery. Please inform me of any side effects immediately.”

I flinch as the needle pricks my arm and I feel the toxin surge into my blood. While I wait for whatever horrors this will bring, Crane watches with glee as if watching a magic act. There’s no rapid heartbeat or intense breathing like last time. There’s actually less- Oh.

“How do you feel?” Crane asks when he sees my eyes widen.

“I can’t. My feet have gone numb.”

He jots some notes down on some scrap paper and hurries back to administer the antidote. Instantly a cold sensation jolts through me and I can feel my feet again.”

“Do you make one for every dose?”

“Absolutely. In my years of research a way to reverse accidents is always useful.” He waits a few more seconds and decides the antidote has done its job. He holds up another syringe and pierces the needle into my other arm.

“What about now?”

After a few seconds I start to get dizzy. Is my skin supposed to get this hot? And why is it isolated?

“My waist feels warm.”

The doctor’s eyes lift up from his notes and take in my confused expression. “Interesting. Do you know what’s happening?”

“I’m getting a fever?”

Crane smirks and points to my eyes. “Let’s say that your dilated pupils tell enough.”

Does he mean what I think he means? The kind of repulsive side effects that make people’s minds melt into obeying, brainwashed zombies. 

“Are you saying I’m…?” I ask, disgusted.

Crane’s surprised smile says enough. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve never had-?”

“Do not use that word,” I snap and exhale. “No, Dr. Crane. I have not had urges.”

“Fascinating,” he observes as he looks over my pathetic state with wide eyes.

My eyes narrow. “How so?”

“I imagined a woman like you would have been through something by now but then you stated in your profile you are a virgin. Is this perhaps caused by philophobia? Genophobia, maybe?”

His guessing misses its target each time. He really doesn’t know. If it weren’t for the annoying dampness below this would actually be fun. 

“It’s just bugging you, isn’t it? The infamous Scarecrow can’t figure out my fear?”

The cunning doctor leans in with an amused smirk, his lips almost pressing against my ear. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

I can handle death. I can handle fear to some extent. But this? This is an all-new emotion I want to burn and bury in the depths of forgotten embarrassments. Just because I can’t control my own biological response doesn’t mean I can’t keep a clear head. Time to end this twisted game.

“I’ll spare you the trouble. Atychiphobia.”

Crane nods with a look that says he won. “Ah. The fear of failure. I should have expected that. Am I going to receive an explanation to go along with this?”

Fear of failure is a peculiar phobia. No matter how hard I try it always seems to make me second-guess everything. People praise me for my accomplishments at the same time I hate myself for not being perfect.

Now the effects of the failed toxin are replaced by a furrowed brow and clenched fists. Crane must think he’s struck the motherlode-

“It’s ok to be upset.”

That’s him? Did someone just replace Dr. Crane with a real therapist? He puts a hand on my still-shaking shoulder and for some reason part of my rage melts away. My mind can’t decide if I’m angry or depressed.

“I never had a ‘normal’ childhood since my parents sent me to prep school. They always wanted me to be the best at everything. Any time I did less than perfect they would shame me.” I scoff and look to the floor. “My father would yell while my mother ranted about how I disgrace the family name.”

“You obviously come from money,” Crane observes softly.

I shrug, still eyeing the cement floor. “It’s no big secret, really. If you do enough digging you’ll probably find news articles of me in high school winning the Metropolis Genius award with comments from my father about how ‘there’s always room for improvement.’ Money means nothing when it comes to love. Flaunting my parents’ riches never gained me anything but a spot in Metropolis University.”

The doctor nods again, almost appearing empathetic. "I think that's enough experiments for today."

I expect him to write more notes but he never does.

“Aren’t you going to write about how sad my childhood was?” I mock darkly. “Just another excuse to keep me locked up as a ‘crazed inmate.’”

But he just shakes his head. “I know a thing or two about family issues. We’ll keep this off the books, shall we?” 

This is the same person who sprayed me with fear gas?

“How did they die?”

There we are. Right back to picking apart my diagnosis.

My eyes narrow. “You know how. Anyone who watches the news knows.”

“It might be better if you say it-”

“They were killed, ok?” I burst, surprising both Jonathon and myself. “Another statistic to the growing number of casualties in Gotham. Some psychos blew up a bridge and they just happened to be driving on it.”

By now I’m shaking both from the last few effects left from the toxin and the emotional imbalance whirling inside me. If it weren’t for the straps still securing me to the wall  I would be bent over in tears. And that’s what happens when I feel Crane release my limbs from the restraints. My knees buckle and I go forward- But instead of ending up sprawled on the ground Crane catches me. I look up and want to yell at him for getting so close but my mind’s too full to speak, distraught with old memories and broken regrets.

“I can see now why you don’t fear death,” Crane whispers.

“The experience of death becomes more familiar the more you are exposed to it. A death of a family member or a close friend could impact how one sees death. Another instance could be a near-death experience such as a heart attack or car crash, causing possible trauma and a different view of death.” I take a shaky breath. “After my parents died, death became everything to me. I believe that if I walk the line of embracing death then I won’t be scared to do anything.”

Slowly, Crane walks me over to a chair and we both sit down. I’m not shaking so much now and I can actually think. “Maybe part of the reason I left Metropolis is to get a fresh start. Though this isn’t exactly the prime scenario.” I gesture to the dull operating theater.

Crane lets out what I think is an actual laugh. No mockery or sarcastic intention at all. “But you have to admit this is far more exciting. You need to loosen up, Dr. Prentiss.”

“And I suppose the man who dresses up in a burlap mask knows all about stress relief?” I arch a brow. “You don’t strike me as someone who goes clubbing.”

“You don’t seem the type either. Am I right?”

I give an annoyed grunt. “Yes. Social drinking is incredibly overrated and only results in bad decisions and depleted brain cells.”

“Speaking of brain cells-” Dr. Crane pulls out what looks like a mini calendar out of his pocket. “I’m scheduling you for both an MRI and a CT scan to make sure there’s no damage to yours.”

He gathers up his things and gestures for me to exit the theater. 

“All for me?” I gush dramatically as we head back to my ‘private cell.’ “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

Before Crane closes the door he looks through the gate with what appears to be legit concern. “Can’t have a prime mind like yours going to waste, can I?”

#jonathon crane #jonathon crane x reader #dr jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #poison ivy #the riddler #harley quinn #the joker #two face #the penguin #batman #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knigth rises #gotham #gotham tv #cillian murphy

[rebelsofshield]

Favorite moment in each Star Wars movie?

I've been loving these questions lately! Not sure if you're all the same anon or multiple folks, but regardless, I really appreciate them.

Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace

I mean, how can it not be the Duel of the Fates? The music! The ridiculous but fun as hell acrobatic choreography! The drama! I love the Prequel Trilogy when it feels the most operatic and that's definitely the case here.

Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones

Attack of the Clone is my least favorite live action Star Wars film. I think it has some great ideas, but it was rough in 2002 and visually it looks uglier with each passing year. That being said, I still find the arena battle on Geonosis to be fun as hell. There's just something special about throwing these Jedi, droids, flying termite people, giant alien monsters, Mandalorian bounty hunters, and eventually drop ships of clone troopers up against each other in a dusty coliseum that scratches a very special fantasy action itch.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

Ian McDiarmid's delightfully evil performance in Revenge of the Sith is one of my favorite things in all of Star Wars and his triumphant speech that fully transforms the Republic into the fascist Galactic Empire is incredible. Add in John Williams's tragic choral score and Padme Amidala's tearful admittance of democracy's defeat at the hands of authoritarianism and you have movie magic and what might be my favorite moment from the Prequel Trilogy.

Solo: A Star Wars Story

I have the least opinions about Solo: A Star Wars Story of any Star Wars film. It's a solidly fine film that does little to impress or offend for most of its run time. The one area where I really feel the movie spark to life though is the first meeting between Donald Glover's Lando Calrissian and Alden Ehnrenreich's Han Solo over a game of Sabacc. Both actors bring such a fun spark to these characters that feels original but still connected to the long shadow of their original counterparts. It's also the best directed sequence in the film and maybe the only moment that leans into the space crime comedy that Solo seemed desperate to achieve.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

This is maybe an odd choice, but I love the first scene of Rogue One. I find most of this spin off film to be a little bit impersonal and sterile until we get to the big explosive (and admittedly fun) finale, but the opening confrontation between Orson Krennic and Galen Erso is really great. Gareth Edwards shoots it all with a grounded naturalism that feels tense and eerie in a way Star Wars films rarely are and Madds Mikkelson and Ben Mendehlson have such strong, dramatic chemistry. It's a moment that communicates so much about the relationship between these two men with so little and is really the storytelling high point of the film.

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope

It's honestly a testament to how great the last half hour of A New Hope is that despite the fact that I've seen this movie likely more than any other movie in existence, I still find myself on the edge of my seat. Even thinking about the final stretch of Luke flying his X-Wing down the Empire's trench while Vader gains ever closer and closer still gives me chills. I cannot imagine the cheers that must have erupted in theaters across the world in the summer of 1977 when Han makes his surprise last minute rescue. It's just incredible film making on every level and I don't know if it'll ever be surpassed.

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back

Picking a favorite moment in The Empire Strikes Back is such a hard task, but I keep finding myself going back to the brilliant confrontation between Luke and Vader in Cloud City. Not only is it a beautifully shot and choreographed lightsaber duel, but it contains some of the most influential and emotionally devastating character beats in the saga. It's another instance of absolutely peak Star Wars.

Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi

Even with the beyond silly "NO!" dubbed over in the recent releases of Return of the Jedi, Vader's final rejection of Palpatine to rescue his son is still one of the moments of saga that can move me to tears despite having seen it dozens of times. There's just such incredible catharsis in this final reconciliation between father and son and it closes the best arc of the Original Trilogy off in such satisfying faction.

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

I wholeheartedly think that the first thirty minutes or so of The Force Awakens are absolutely masterful filmmaking and arguably the best work of JJ Abrams's directorial career. While the opening battle sequence does a wonderful job of introducing some of the movie's cast, it's really Rey's mostly wordless introduction that felt instantly spellbinding and still wows me to this day. In several gorgeous minutes we learn so much about this lonely woman who scavengers to survive in the wreckage of classic franchise iconography (one of the Sequel Trilogy's many beautifully meta moments) and John Williams's crafts what is easily one of the best Star Wars themes of all time with a tinkling of wonder and mystery.

Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

Like The Empire Strikes Back, picking a single moment that's my favorite in The Last Jedi is incredibly difficult. While there are undeniably rough patches, The Last Jedi has an abundance of absolutely iconic Star Wars scenes. I mean: Paige Tico's sacrifice; the throne room confrontation with Kylo, Rey, and Snoke; Luke and Yoda's discussion about the meaning of the legacy of the Jedi; the Holdo maneuver, Leia and Luke's reunion, the ending shot of Broom Boy. There's so many beats that I find myself wowed by over half a decade after the movie first premiered. But, my favorite has to be Kylo and Luke's Kurosawa inspired duel on the salt plains of Crait. I love the tense, minimalist choreography and stellar performances by Adam Driver and Mark Hamill, but I love the ending reveal the most. It completes Luke's wonderfully complex character arc in truly beautiful fashion.

Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker

It's absolutely the Force Flash Duel. Little competition. Yes, this movie is a mess and it fails to meet imost of its emotional, thematic, or mythological goals, but I think the evolution of Rey and Kylo's connection in the Force expanding into a confrontation that literally spills across space and time is such a smart and inventive idea and to me it feels like the most creatively successful moment in the film. Also it's the only time in the whole trilogy that we see Kylo duel with his mask on? Which feels important even if I'm not sure why.

#Star Wars #asks #ask box #anons #anonymous #commentary #review #reviews

[casspurrjoybell-22]

Dream Eater - Chapter 1 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

A door slams and I hear footsteps running after me down the sidewalk.

"Alex... Alex, wait. It didn't mean anything, okay? Wait."

Max catches up with me and grabs my arm.

I shake him off and keep going.

Up and down the busy, shop-lined street, people stop and stare, like spectators at the theater, enjoying the free show.

Max begins to lose his patience.

"Alex, seriously. You're being a bitch. It's not like you never slept with anyone else."

My boyfriend... scratch that... my ex-boyfriend is making a scene because I just broke up with him over a dream.

I know that sounds stupid but let me explain.

I'm a dream-eater: a kind of low-level incubus, only instead of sexual energy, I feed off the energy of people's dreams.

We're the poor cousins of the demon world.

I'm doubly cursed.

Not only am I a lowly dream-eater but my affinity is for nightmares.

You see, dream-eaters experience a person's dream as we consume its energy.

Which means I have to live out other people's nightmares just to eat.

Max's most recent nightmare was about me finding out he's been sleeping with some other dude named Carl.

Now, sometimes dreams are just dreams, right?

But when he woke up and I asked him who Carl was, I knew that in this case, it was more.

To make matters worse, he then decided to pull out the whole 'You sleep with other people, too' argument.

And now, when I don't respond to his charming entreaties, he brings it up again as he trails behind me past a crowded café, drawing the interested attention of a group of octogenarians dining on the patio outside.

"You know what? Fine. You can sleep around with other people but I can't. I get it. Because for you it's business, isn't it? Well you know what that makes you, Alex? A whore."

He spreads his arms wide and addresses the impromptu audience of his self-made soap opera.

"You hear that, fuckers?" he yells. "Alex Shade is a fucking whore."

I turn around and punch him in the face.

Then I keep walking.

First of all, it isn't true.

I mean yes... I sleep with people.

And it is for business.

But that business isn't sex.

It's dreams.

More specifically, it's nightmares.

The more powerful, the more unpleasant the dream, the more energy it gives me.

So in that way, it's worthwhile to seek out the worst of the worst... the minds so tortured they'll pay anything to be rid of the nightmares making life unlivable and turning sleep into hell.

The downside is... as I said... I have to live the nightmare to absorb its power.

Which is why I figure it's fair that people pay me to rid them of their awful dreams.

It's a living.

Except for the last few months I'd given that up and been perfectly happy to do so.

I'd met Maxwell Craig at a club and we'd connected instantly.

He told me about his nightmares and I listened with understanding and sympathy.

Later, I ate his dreams and he felt better.

Somewhere along the way, I guess I mistook our mutual co-dependence for something more and when I'd seen that latest dream, it had hurt a lot more than I'd expected.

I don't know why it came as a surprise.

I mean, it's not like he ever said he loved me and he's clearly not the long-term type.

Still, even a low-level demon likes to think he's something special to someone.

So much for that.

I walk a few more blocks before slowing my pace.

My physical form tires easily, especially after I've been upset.

Emotions take a lot of energy, after all.

Belatedly, I realize that walking away from Max means I've also walked away from the one, tiny piece of security I had in this world.

I have no job, no home and very little money... but at least I have a plan.

There's a coffee shop across the street with free Wi-Fi advertised in the window and I make my way over and go in.

I dig in the pockets of my jeans and come up with just enough change to buy a small coffee.

The girl behind the register gives me a look as she takes my crumpled dollar and handful of mixed coins.

Clearly, this is the sort of place that expects customers to actually put something in the tip jar.

I give her a crooked smile instead.

I may not be a super-sexy, high-level incubus but I'm damned cute and I know it.

She smiles back uncertainly and hands me my coffee.

Oh well.

My appeal has always been stronger with male humans anyway.

I take my cup of coffee and find a seat near the windows.

After a frustrating struggle connecting to the Wi-Fi, I log into my old profile on the job app I use and update the status to 'active.'

I bill myself as a 'dream doctor' guaranteed to end your nightly torment.

Not the most elegant advert but it seems to work well enough.

Before I finish my coffee, my cell-phone pings with a notification.

A hit and it's close.

I open it and read the note.

Hello,

I'm interested in meeting and discussing your services. Please reply promptly.

Damien Knight

Interesting.

I touch the reply icon and start to type.

Hi, I'm free this afternoon. Where would you like to meet?

I wait and a few seconds later another message pings.

Can you come to my home? The address is 1665 Greenwood Dr.

Hmm.

Usually, I like to meet in public first.

I mean you never know these days. I might be a demon but my physical form can still get murdered as easily as any mortal.

Only instead of whatever happens to humans, my spirit would have to roam around searching for a new vessel.

Probably for years, if not decades.

Been there, done that.

No thanks.

Still, he had good grammar.

That had to count for something, right?

I hesitate, then tap reply again.

Sure. What time?

The answer comes almost immediately.

As soon as possible. I'll be waiting.

Okay... this guy is desperate... hopefully only to be rid of his nightmares.

I stand and toss my empty coffee cup in the trash.

While I'm still on the café's hard-won Wi-Fi, I pull up a map and type in the address.

Two blocks south and one east.

Easy-peasy.

Pocketing my cell-phone, I head back out onto the street.

As I go, I cast one last hopeful wink at the girl behind the counter.

She rolls her eyes.

Sigh.

It's always the normal-looking ones who have the worst dreams, too.

I set a brisk pace up the street.

1665 Greenwood Drive, turns out to be a luxury apartment complex.

Great.

I don't have a real service plan and my cell-phone is useless without Wi-Fi.

Was this a joke or did 'Damien Knight' expect me to let him know I've arrived?

As I search the nearby shopfronts for the ubiquitous Free Internet lure, the tinted glass doors to my left open and a man steps out.

He's tall and athletic, about thirty-five, with pale skin and dark, stylishly cut hair.

He's handsome in a clean-cut, upper-class kind of way.

Not exactly my type but his eyes are deliciously dark and haunted. Definitely my nightmare guy.

"Are you the dream doctor?" he asks, his voice deep and smooth.

I nod.

"That's me."

He looks me up and down like I've come to Fashion Week in an outfit I found at the Goodwill.

He shrugs but holds out his hand.

"Damien Knight. Pleased to meet you."

"Alex... Alexander Shade," I say.

His eyes narrow slightly and I know he's wondering if the name's real.

It is, by the way.

"Well then, Alex. Pease, come inside."

[drewandareview]

Inside Out (2015)

Originally written June 23rd, 2015

I’ve been excited for every Pixar movie that’s come out (yes, every one), but the last Pixar movie that I truly hyped was Up.  Those six years ago on opening weekend, I wore a paperclip necklace with a cut-out image of an arrow--pointing up.  And that display of passion is only scratching the surface of how excited I was.

Inside Out is the first Pixar movie since Up that I’ve hyped that much (I went to the movie theater with my clothes inside out).  Some of my familiar friends have wondered if Inside Out managed to exhilarate me even more than Up did.  But here’s the thing: Up, for a while, hasn’t been my favorite Pixar movie.  It’s probably the one I connected with the most, but there are other Pixar movies I like better for different reasons.  I still loved Up enough to say it entirely lived up to my hype, and Inside Out had a lot to do to emulate the same memorable experience I had watching Up.  But it didn’t have to be a flawless movie to do that.  It didn’t have to be my favorite Pixar movie.

And yet, it was.

It had all the things I loved about traditional Pixar movies.  Above all, there was effort and passion in every part of the process.  When you know enough about good movies (and bad ones), you get a real eye for this, and trust me: This team worked hard to make a great movie.  There was attention to detail everywhere you looked, there were brilliant and beaming story moments that could only result from fine, intricately crafted writing, everything felt like it belonged to one cohesive whole, and the movie itself had all the building blocks of an emotionally fulfilling moviegoing experience.  It also had that edge Pixar movies tend to have with the theme it told--a rather complex and unpopular one.

It even went places a Pixar movie hasn’t quite gone before.  It’s the first Pixar movie to take place in what I consider a fantasy environment.  Other Pixar movies that some might defend as fantasy (Monsters Inc., Brave) have always felt a little too familiar to me for me to feel like I’d been whisked away to another world.  Not even WALL-E really made me feel like I was whisked away to another world.  Inside Out nestled in this intricate, made-up landscape of the human mind that sucked me in like no Pixar movie had done before.  I felt transported in a way I had always hoped to be.  Telling two stories at once (which this movie technically did) was also a bold decision, and while it basically had to happen for this story to work, it’s some new and challenging territory for Pixar.  Seeing them dip their toes into something truly new doesn’t happen as much as you’d think and it’s thrilling for me to witness.

All these facets alone easily bring this movie to my number one spot, but it went beyond that.  I happened to find it the most moving Pixar movie I’ve ever seen.  I’ve heard a lot of people claim that Inside Out didn’t have the same pathos as other previous Pixar flicks have had.  I can see where they’re coming from.  Up touched on the devastation of permanent loss and learning to move on.  Toy Story 3 dealt with the idea of abandonment and death.  Inside Out did not have such a blunt emotional impact.  I would argue, however, that it’s not considered as emotional because its impact was more subtle.  The movie, unlike any other Pixar movie, was not about overcoming a harsh or unsettling obstacle, but arriving at it.  It was about the despair of no longer having the things that made you happy, and the movie didn’t even promote learning to get over it or living with it so much as understanding that moments like this happen.  We lose the things we love, and that’s what life can be sometimes.  It didn’t show all the pain and suffering of living with that obstacle that would easily pull heartstrings.  It let us arrive there and reflect on it.  To those willing to reflect the way I did, it became unbelievably moving.  And I’ve never seen Pixar project a theme with more subtlty.  The theme was simplified to a moment in a character’s arc, but that moment--just by its nature--figuratively and literally had so much depth beneath it.

I’ve never heard a catchier score.  Giacchino scored this one, who is also responsible for the Up theme.  Again, I imagine many people wouldn’t think his work on Inside Out is comparable.  But personally, that theme caught in my head like no Pixar theme ever did--and in a good way.  The theme may not have had as much of a chance to shine in this movie as it could have in a movie like Up (which featured a great silent montage for it to stand out in), but judging the scores outside of their contexts, the one for Inside Out sticks with me more.

I don’t know if there have ever been as many beautiful, awe-inspiring moments in a Pixar movie before.  I’m talking about the moments where you just look at it and feel a simple, stirring wonder within you; where the thing before you captures you completely.  WALL-E’s dance scene filled me with that.  Up’s take-off scene filled me with that.  Inside Out gave me at least four of those moments.

And I literally found myself gawking over single lines of dialogue in this movie.  It was good dialogue, but the voice acting was phenomenal.  I would hear a line and just marvel at its delivery.  There are so many things that can be conveyed just in the way a sentence is said, and more times than I can count did this movie get me grasping at the hidden truths behind single utterances.

The colors were wonderful--the palette they used was something you’d think an artist would conceive if there were no contextual restrictions, just to provide themselves with a cathartic release of chromatic spectacle.

And of course, the characters were great.  All of them were exceptionally created, but I especially liked Joy.  I imagine it’s difficult to not like Joy, but some people I talked to felt she was annoying, mean, or somewhat useless.  I disagree on all these points.  I felt that she was simply too well-meaning and positive a presence to interpret as unlikable, and I feel that her ambition to remain a leader among the emotions was a crucial aspect of the whole story.  And simply, I identified with her.  I’ve felt myself feel the things I imagine she must be feeling, just about every day.  That kind of positivity has been a driving force for as long as I can remember, and to see it given a shape and a voice--it was something special for me.  Let’s just say that the phrase “you’ve got a friend in me” has never felt more relevant.

And trust me, guys, I haven’t even scratched the surface.  I gave you the basics here, but I could talk about this movie for days.  It’s been the only thing I’ve been able to think about since seeing it.  I saw it three times opening weekend and I still want to see it.  It actually worries me how much I like it because I don’t want to think of how long it’ll be until Pixar makes another movie like this.  As of right now, there’s no movies they’re making that I’m hyping like I hyped this one.  I want so badly to see more movies like this, and I’m not sure how it’ll happen.  

Oh, and did I mention I had some contention with this movie?  Yeah, back in Summer of 2010, I had an idea for an “inside the mind” project that went on to become one of my favorite ideas I’ve ever had.  I did all kinds of development for it--and in Summer of 2011, I found out Pixar was doing their own take on that idea.  I knew the consequences of that.  They would plant their flag first, and whatever I managed to pull off would be “afterward”.  There was a chance they would use some of the ideas I wanted to use.  (We actually had completely identical ideas for how to represent and show memories, which was eerie but also flattering.)  While my movie is thankfully so different that I can feel it’s still a warranted story to tell, I’ll always have a somewhat mixed relationship with the movie.  I guess that’s what happens when you have friendly competition with one of your favorite movies.  There’s a lot of feelings here, and I can’t think of a more appropriate movie to have them for.

[the-iyan]

At the Peak

Hi there, this is a story. It's written by the author known as T. Belfry. Tumblr has completely fucked the formatting so mind the odd indentations and messy paragraph placement. For a full reading see my Instagram @Nimnat Hope you enjoy!

I never wanted to be a PI you see. Back in my youth I’d tell you I was born to be a spaceman. But dreams change over time and boom, before you know it, you're applying for your license at the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services Division of Licensing. I suppose it’s because I was a lonely kid. Didn't much care for the other boys you see, not that they cared much for me either. So, the idea of finding people for a living just scratched that itch at the back of my psyche. That and my brief stint as an anarchist where I stalked and spied on certain members of the Floridian legislative branch who shall for now remain unnamed. Made the job more than fulfilling.

I have a very specific style, see the other dicks have it all backwards. We as people go about our days in a nonchalant slow-motion tango. Twisting and spinning into each other's collective lives before disappearing into the fog of ambiguity once more. My fellow private eyes are out here standing in the middle of the dance floor. To me being in public places means to be a public figure. If everyone is focused on you nobody is worrying about who is focusing on them. I’m no spectacle of course, just more laxed and hedonistic. A frowned upon lifestyle which I can use to my advantage.

It’d be advantageous for anyone thinking of joining my profession to have an established set of ethics and conduct. But treat these ethical guides more as a budget than a limit. Pushing yourself to the very limits when necessary. I recommend sitting down and considering these 5 ethical conundrums to get started.

You have not eaten since the day before. Walking through an empty mall on your lunch break you notice in the fountain there is $6.97 in coins, the exact price of your favorite sandwich from the local deli including tax. You also know that money is collected and donated to an Ornithological Research Scholarship. Do you take the money? Why or why not?

During a normal day’s investigation, a bystander asks you for a light as you wait for the bus. They are wearing the garb and headwear of a local cult. Which you also know to be highly abusive and controlling towards its members. One of their beliefs being that smoking is highly corrosive to the soul. And doing so means three weeks of fasting where most perish. Do you deconvert this stranger before their bus arrives? Do you actively refuse your lighter? Do you light their cigarette? Why or why not?

Your subject goes into a public bathroom. After some time, you get up and follow them into the room. But when you walk through the door you see a massive expanse in front of you. The ceiling has vanished and been replaced with a light grey cloud, the humidity is choking. Around you is a world of tiled half walls and chrome circular drains. Showers are everywhere, some in the same stall as a toilet. After exploring for half the day, you find the stall they are using. Their phone just so happens to have fallen underneath the toilet without the subject's knowledge. Do you reach for their phone? Why or why not?

Two separate clients offer you the same amount of money. But you only have time in your calendar to do one. The first client needs you to tail her soon former business partner, ideally as they gamble with company money. This would be for a week in Vegas travel and room paid for. The second client wants proof his longtime girlfriend, former soon-fiancé, is cheating. This is a bus ride away at a local mall/movie theater. The entire job would take a day tops. How do you tell the second client “no” nicely?

The target you have been paid to follow contacts you through mail. They say they know you were hired and are willing to pay you to falsify your report. Inside the envelope is a check for three times the amount that your client gave you. What do you do?

Have you gotten your answers? Because I’ll need your full attention if I am to start this story and you seem a bit distracted. I don’t want you flipping pages back and forth to read these again, okay?

Now you understand my headspace when I’m at work. These issues and paradoxical ethical traps are littered all over my profession! It brings me no great pain but boy is it a pain in my neck. I’ll give you all an example.

It was Valentine's Day. My target was a 23-year-old man. Infidelity was the accusation, and it was my job to witness it. I was not planning to do this particular one, however. See any other year and I’d be in a park dressed in a wicker hat, Hawaiian shirt, and short shorts. But I was still relatively new, and the job had subsequently broken my previous relationship. The wound was still sore after a year, so the topic of romance was touchy at best. But after a mysterious letter in the mail whose contents shall remain private, I had found my schedule open for another job.

Given the choice, always choose public transportation over private. With a car you must be focused and aware of your driving. Splitting your attention between your target and your wheel. Whereas the bus allows you the freedom to be entirely oblivious to the world around you. A privilege I was not given the liberty to utilize.

“’Scuse me sir, have a light?” He was dressed head to toe like a giant rat. I was being accosted by an absurdly large rodent holding an unlit cigarette in my face. At first, I thought I was tripping something fears, but I soon regained agency.

“It’s out of fluid.” I was lying. I don’t carry lighters.

“That’s alright” he was vaguely French from the sound of it. I didn’t like one bit about him. I had to be cautious with what I said to him.

“Do you ever think about how little we actually know ourselves?” He pulled out a lighter and lit the end of his cigarette.

“I’m sorry are you talking to me?” I turned to engage mostly to understand how he planned to smoke that through a smiling mask the size of my torso.

“Yeah like, how much of who we are has no experiential tie to the individual.”

“I don’t know man. Just waiting for my bus so-”

“Just think, the version of you that people care about, and love has absolutely nothing to do with your own ego. It is total sublimation of who you are. Becoming a haze of personality rather out of the monument to personhood you’ve constructed from what you thought was stone.”

“Okay.” I was uncertain as to why this man felt so comfortable around me. But before I could ask him, he raised the cigarette to the mouth of the mask. He took an audibly deep drag, then smoke seeped through the two big teeth. Just then the bus came.

The route was just long enough for me to go over his schedule. The client found tickets reserving movie seats at 12:30pm Feb 14th inside the subjects' jeans. He claimed to be working on this day. So here was my thinking:

I get to Target at 11, buy a new outfit and trash the one I’ve been seen in. Spend time familiarizing myself with the space. The theater is behind the complex so short walking distance.

Grab lunch at 11:30.

Buy movie ticket by 12, choose a seat sufficiently far enough away as to not be seen, but still close enough to get on camera.

Hide in dumpster to watch incoming vehicles unnoticed at 12:15.

But before I got too carried away my mousey companion poofed back into my life.

“Where do you think we are anyway? And I don’t mean where physically but where are we in here?” leaning over my shoulder his furry hand poked the temple of his rat head.

“What the fuck man? Seriously I don’t care!”

“Suit yourself I guess.” He leaned back in his chair leaving me to my peace. Until two seconds later when I had to get off the bus.

The sky was beautiful. A neon blue with paper white clouds. I find that nice days are scant in Florida, so it’s important to soak them in when they do.

Short lived was my soaking, because it was 11:15 and I was still in the clothes I wore that morning.

I ran through the open doors, shoving the empty carts strewn about the entrance. The entire store was both extremely busy and completely empty. Dense pockets of people scattered between aisles. Enclaves of young adults within thick clouds of elderly. Like lilies on a river, they all flowed with a soft current. Moving from apparel, to snacks, to contraceptives, to drinks. What I didn’t know then was that they all were coming to see the same movie as I was.

Black satin shirt, with long billowy sleeves. Blue bell-bottom jeans with brown faux leather dress boots. I couldn’t find any hats, so aviator shades had to make do. This is building an identity. Part of mt process see, I have to be at least noticed. To be seen as a person that is more distinct, and vastly different. So, if I am seen again my face may seem familiar but my personhood and demeanor will be completely foreign. Plausible deniability is the key.

Now I refuse to operate on an empty stomach. So next was lunch. I am a fan of most fruit and recommend it as a stakeout snack. Not pears of course. Pears are the spawn of Satan. For this particular mission I was going to need watermelon spears. Like pickles but sweet and soft. To drink a 2-quart carton of premade Iced Mocha Coconut Latte, and a Piña colada juice blend courtesy of Koala Lemonade. One to hydrate and one to caffeinate. But when I reached for my bladder popping ingredient I was stopped by a decrepit green hand.

Loose skin draped on bone, its nails were black and long. The arm was hairy when chunks of meat weren’t missing from underneath. At moments it wiggled and writhed from underneath with maggots and roaches. It had this horrific scent of mold and rot.

“Excuse me sonny, just didn’t see you there.” Following the arm, I was face to face with an 8-foot-tall green head. He looked like the child of Green Arrow and Guy Fawkes. His hair was almost blackish green. His pupils were black and teeth, the few he had left, matched.

“You all right bud?” I couldn’t speak. He gave me a weird look then walked away.

At 11:45 I was sitting in the men's room of the mall next to the Target; eating my watermelon and siping my drinks from the bag. The air was sour and lemony, poorly hiding crimes against the nose too horrific to fathom. The walls were a dark carpet collage of colors like the floors of old movie theaters. Lavender trim made the whole experience unenjoyable. I would go so far as to say it was the single reason for my anxiety inside that room. Let’s examine the facts I did and maybe you’ll understand.

Walls are not carpeted. It is a waste of material and quite frankly never looks good. So why of all places are they experimenting with interior design as a form of expression (in which the artist has chosen to experiment with the form of expression itself) in a bathroom?

Furthermore, the entire purpose of a bathroom is paradoxical as is! An often-public place in which you have an absolute expectation of privacy. Decorating any space like that is walking a thin line between sanitized cleanliness and warm hospitality. Did the designers of this particular bathroom simply go insane?

Which may explain the choice of carpeting as well. It was dark and murky, with greens and blues speckled between patches of purple. Such a design would camouflage stains and streaks making them harder to clean. The fabric was dense and soft, allowing it to absorb smells like a blackhole.

“That’s it!” my voice bounced from the hard checkered tile and landed in the soft carpeted wall behind Victor in the stall in front of me.

“I’m sorry?” Victor sounds like a mix between Lonny Price and Patton Oswalt.

“What’s your name stranger?” I had slipped my hand under the stall at this point, shaking it, waiting for his hand to do the same.

“I’m Victor? Can I help you?” He didn’t shake my hand, and in fact slapped it back down.

“Well Victor not really. But I think I solved the bathroom.” Victor must have been really engrossed in his task up there because my hands were able to tie his fancy leather shoes together.

“The bathroom?”

“Exactly Vic! The designers must have snapped when they built this place. It’s the only explanation.”

“What designers?”

“No no no my dear Vicar. See that was my first thought so good instinct. But if you think only of the known facts of the case and you come to a-” I had been slowly shimming up the side of his stall this entire conversation. I dropped in.

“-Stunning conclusion.” Victor yelped like a dog and fumbled to shove bags of weed inside his pockets. He had navy knee high pants and a pink polo shirt.

“Don’t tell my dad!” he dropped a wooden board and joints scattered all around our feet.

“Is that weed?” I held out my hand and he kindly put one of his little bags in my hand. I pocketed it then put my arm around him

“Yes.”

“I’m not mad about your weed Vice, but this bathroom was not a mistake. These were the very decisions that broke them. Consider the walls. What better way to subvert your artistic and functional purpose than spit in the face of the form itself? Even the floor itself is speaking to us!” I shoved Victor’s face on the floor with my own. This gave me good emphasis for my point, while allowing me to reach the joints that rolled under the stall.

“It is?” he yelped again.

“It is both part of and explaining the artist's message. At first look the tile is inherently juxtaposed with its counterpart. However, the two have switched conventional roles. As now the walls are carpeted. Yet! The very existence of this contrast is criticized in the tile itself. The black and white motif may seem to be a story of conflict, but with a deeper appreciation for the choice of medium as a mode of expression, then you see it is one of harmony. The black and the white are in fact equals. As both are needed for the checkered pattern itself”

“Who the fuck are you man!?” I had made him visibly uncomfortable by now.

“I’m a cop man” I was lying. Even as a PI, ACAB.

“Shit!” Victor was one of the cuter, but not one of the smarter men I have encountered in the bathroom.

“I’ll need an ID VD.” I opened the stall door because I was starting to feel cramped. Plus, I wanted to give the guy his space.

“I got one in my wallet hold up” he reached for his wallet and pulled out a driver license. Clearly not a PI. I took a picture of it with my phone.

“Date of birth?” I was just fucking with him at this point.

“November 7th?”

“Was that a question?”

“No.”

“What year?”

“1997.”

“Hmm. Well, this all seems to be in order. Well Victor I’m not mad about the weed. I’ll let it slide this once, but for fucks sake man you’re 25. Find a private place to do that.”

“Hey can I have my license back?” he was slowly catching on so I had to make my escape while it was still sociably acceptable to do so.

“I will be keeping that.” I started to slowly walk backwards towards the door.

“You can’t do that?” He attempted to walk after me but stumbled because someone had tied his shoes together earlier. “Wait what’s your badge number!?”

“You’re not too bright, love ya buddy see you around!” I made  haste through the mall because it was already going to be 12:10 when I get the tickets.

The line wrapped itself around the building, wringing out half-drunk movie goers every hour or so. Two hit movies were released that day. The Rōbŏbitch Diary, and Down the Gullet. The first, a historical romance about the extremely raunchy lives of Aristocrats at the turn of the century. The second an aggressive delve into the explicit and experimental sex lives of two college best friends. Both had graphic and unsimulated sex scenes for different reasons. Both were not technically porn for very different reasons. Both pulled surprisingly different demographics.

               Those who came to see Down the Gullet can be best described as a comfortable crowd of sex positive hipsters and post ironic critics. There were frantic discussions of about the ramifications of seeing sex commodity, genuine praise for the film as a meta commentary of its form. Debates on whether the plot was supposed to contain a meta narrative criticizing the current state of for-profit learning.

               The Rōbŏbitch packs were displays of debauchery, filth, and a blatant disregard for public decency. People had tightened and cut their clothes as close as possible, I witnessed swirls of elderly all kissing and groping one another. Hair was dyed and plucked; underwear was pulled over the pants. Sometimes, going so far as to show diaper. The entire scene was unsettling to say the least.

In all fairness. You had your rogue sexual addict with a DtG shirt or a cinema loving Rōbŏbitch intellectual. These were the exceptions that proved the rule.

I was beyond late. Even if I had gotten to the theater when I attended, I’d be maybe 2 people away from the ass of the line. It was Sisyphean waiting in that line, so I plopped myself on one of the benches out front to think. I was given dirty looks from the line every time I took a swig from my carton of coffee. That was good, it means they were focusing on what I was doing and not who I was.

“I don’t think it was such a big deal honestly.” a shadow ate the sun. The coffee spilled out of my mouth when the body of an elderly woman eight miles tall descend. Her sheer black clothes were covered in a thick black cardigan and cut with a leopard print scarf the size of a highway. When she landed, the bench wailed like Giles Corey. A 60ft wave flowed through her winkled tanned skin.

“I was asked to leave 13 minutes in Ruth! All I said to her was I thought she was doing very well at her job, and you just don’t see that from people her- Hold on I’ve got to put you on hold.” I was making my way up her arm, climbing black crochet like a pirate aboard a ship’s sail.

“Can I help you young man?” She was very unhappy, but thankfully offered me her hand to stand on.

“Sorry mam, I’m supposed to be seeing my girl, but she left me for this guitarist. I don’t want to lose her, but the friendship is really eating away at my-”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, could you spare a pen? I need to sign my note to her.” This was a lie.

“I’ll see.” She had no intention of actually giving me a pen.

She dropped me and her wallet on the bench when she started to pretend to look through her purse for a pen. I got to work. Her wallet had a snap fastener the size of a beach ball made of what I can only guess was inch thick tungsten steel. After multiple full body presses, and three mysterious bone cracks, I got the sucker open. The ticket read

THEATER

2

Admit 1 Adult:

The Rōbŏbitch Diary

A7

I couldn’t get the clasp to close before she finished humoring my pen request.

“Don’t have any.” she snatched her wallet from next to me, her ticket fluttered to the ground below. She checked her cash, which I could use as a bed sheet, counted then scoffed. So, I didn’t tell her.

Phase two of my new plan relied on the kindness of youth. I needed a way to get at least somewhat close to the front without pissing too many people off. Bribery would have to be the way.

“Sorry to interrupt but I seem to have forgotten my ticket.” I tapped Rio’s shoulder of a young-looking person three people from the ticket booth.

“Hey man I’m sorry to hear that but we were in the middle of a conversation here.” They were understandably annoyed with me.

“Pardon my abruptness, uh what’s your name?” I shook their hand. Looking in their eye I attempted to form a friendly connection with them. I did not notice their severe lack of left eye until then and they could see the shock in my face.

“Yeah, usually I have an eyepatch, but I didn’t want to deal with people like you calling me a pirate.” already off on a bad foot.

I wanted to point out that they were wearing a kilt and light pink crop top and that the eye patch would weirdly make them look less pirate like.  Or acknowledge how they resembled the child of Audrey Hepburn and Bob Dylan, and that if anything the absence of an eye does them a favor because it made them both beautiful and unique. Maybe even coming back around to explain my shock was simply that I was not expecting someone to be missing an eye and not because I found the sight necessarily shocking. But retrospect allows freedom of thought not action.

“Look I’ll give you each a pre-rolled joint in return for just letting me stand in front of you.”

“Fuck off man.” They turned to their friend who looked nervous at the sight of the rolls.

“Rio, we are running low?” their friend pointed to an almost dry vape pen.

“Fine.” Rio took the joints and let me in front.

Phase three was not entirely thought out, things were getting close because I had 10 minutes before the film was about to start and I hadn’t even gotten in the theater.

“Welcome to Globoflicks, my name is Franklin. Down the Gullet Is currently sold out for the evening how else may I help you?” Franklin was a sad man. His eyes were too weak to pull themselves out of their eyelids. His tongue and mouth barely slung out what mumbled words he spoke.

“High ya Franky, I have a slight snafu. I was wondering if, maybe someone, you for instance, can help me?” He needed a show, and I was willing to give him one.

“What can I help you with?”

“Well, I was actually already in there maybe eight minutes ago and I came out for a smoke,” I pointed to Rio and their acquaintance. “and I already threw away my ticket so if you could just let me back in that’d be great.”

“Ticket must be shown at the door, next.” he tried to wave Rio forward but I blocked his path.

“I can prove it! Here I can tell you the exact theater and seat I was at. Even where it was in relation to the screen!” I don’t know if it was the years of minimum wage or my optimistic pursuit that broke him but his eyes suddenly jolted alive and rolled themselves awake.

“Fine what movie are you seeing?” he started typing something in his little computer.

“The Rōbŏbitch Diary for 12.”

“Can I see an ID?”

“You already checked it the first time!?” this was a lie. But if I feigned frustration, it would be more realistic. Minimum wage workers expect shitty behavior. While unfortunate it does come with advantages.

“Listen sir I have highschoolers with fake ID’s and dressing like old folks to get in either of these movies. So, if I’m helping you out, I’m seeing an ID.” I flashed him Victors ID covering the picture with my thumb.

“I’m sorry Mr. Gwin but I have a Margaret V. purchasing that seat.” his little smile filled with nostalgia for my anarcho-communist days.

“I know that’s her over there,” I sheepishly pointed to the bench woman Margaret. Who was at the time yelling over the phone about not receiving a refund for not saving her ticket. Due to her immense stature and strength the entire building shuttered at her words.

“We have a sugar momma, sugar baby thing going on here. And if you could let me watch the rest of the movie while all of, that, blows over you’d be doing me a real solid.”

Franklin let me in the theater. I had to leave Victor’s ID behind as collateral though. If I didn’t come back to pay for my ticket, we agreed he could call the police and send them to the address. I know what you’re thinking and no, don’t worry. I have not gone back to that theater for various reasons.

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing from there. I had to convince the person whose reserved seat I was sitting in, that I was with the DEA tracking a weed supplier (this was before its legalization mind you). And that I was spying on Rio and their friend who just so happened to be three aisles away from me stoned off their asses. But then the target walked in.

She was smiling when I saw her. Must have just finished laughing actually. Holding on to his arm as if it was the only thing keeping her from blowing away. Her hair was brown and fuzzy, like she had fallen from great heights. The theater was darker now, but I could tell, she was wearing her favorite light pink blouse and jean bell-bottoms. As if someone ripped her right out of the 70’s. A strange cruel coincidence because she wore the same thing when my heart was broken a year ago.

I took what pictures I could to prove I had done my job. But I threw in the towel after an hour of kissing broken up intermediately by mall exploration and occasional double entendre.

I was waiting for the bus by 4pm sharp. I wasn’t quite sure why. I told myself I had enough money now to buy myself a car and just give up this entire process. At the time I was still able to seek formal training as a criminal investigator. Thinking of my possible slip into the dark world of police work I pulled out a joint. I bit the end and started patting myself for a lighter.

“’Scuse me sir, have a light?” He was dressed head to toe like a giant rat. I was being greeted by an absurdly large rodent holding a lighter. At first, I thought I was tripping something fears, but I soon regained agency.

“Still out of fluid.” I shrugged; I was lying. I don’t carry lighters.

“That’s alright” he was vaguely French from the sound of it. I didn’t understand a thing about him. He lit the end for me, and we sat quietly for the bus. I didn’t feel alone.

#writing #short story #creative writing #fiction #nonfiction #slipstream #surreal #absurd #lonelly #When men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go

[lecliss]

Also the fact that Psychonauts 2 comes out in exactly a month is something I cannot perceive. How many years has it BEEN??? It doesn't feel real. In as early as like 30 fucking days or something, you can hold that babey in your hands. Psychonauts 2 REAL!!!!

#one of my firsy video games. i was still a babette playing pc games when i played that. on the fucking PC YALL #i only played pc games as a toddler. until i got that vtech thing and then a ps2 and i played it on the ps2 #the sad thing is ive played the game on the ps2 a million times. but i still have the same disk from back then #and its all scratched up. so i can only get up to the theater world before everything freezes and i cant get further #thats pretty far in the game tho actually. last world before getting into the asylum in fact. #but yeah so ive never personally beat it lol. but i know what happens. ive seen videos. #wasnt the first game getting a remaster???? i dont remember lol #im not gonna be in shape to do anything in august tho with my surgery on the 11th 😔 of course i wont be getting it until sep 8th #so thats an extra week i have to recover. im all better from the wisdom teeth now but the problems now are from the cracked tooth. #not even the broken ones. its the fucking cracked one. #otherwise id be perfectly fine. so maybe like. all i need is three weeks of recovery? idk two teeth you kinda need seems like a longer #recovery than wisdom teeth #and im not even done after that either. so. playing video games is gonna be kinda hard this last part of the year #which sucks since all the good stuff is coming out literally soon. very very soon. #personal

[take-a-sip-chump]

The Tragedy of Quinn Fabray

I had a conversation about Glee with my mom the other day. She hasn’t seen the show since the first season aired, but she brought up a point that interested me. She said that she had always thought of Quinn as the main character, rather than Rachel. I don’t think Quinn should have been the main character of Glee, don’t get me wrong. But it did call into question, why was Quinn’s story so different from the others? I mean, everyone got conflict, everyone had an arc (RIP Matt), but Quinn’s story stood out, it had a different energy that frankly didn’t quite fit the tone and message of Glee.

Glee is a story about love, self-acceptance, and community. This is something we all agree on, despite the fact that the writers somewhat failed to put any of those things into the script for the most part (the actors pulled more than their own weight throughout the series, that’s for sure). What’s in the text gives us another message, one that takes its toll on the story, which is that underdogs always come out on top, and that if you work hard, if you’re talented enough, things will always work out in your favor. Rachel Berry gets the Tony. Mercedes Jones gets the record deal. Kurt and Blaine get… ambiguous theater success? (I’m still not clear on what exactly they do, I think it’s playwriting and acting?) and a child of their own. Sue Sylvester becomes the Vice President of the United States for god’s sake! So why are there certain stories that never see that end? Quinn is an underdog, Quinn works hard, Quinn is unmistakably intelligent, and yet.

Quinn never has a moment, in the many conflicts and terrible things that follow her throughout the story, to even breathe. How can she create success out of thin air, the way the rest of the characters have? She was homeless her sophomore year of high school, she’s been pregnant, she’s been quite literally hit by a truck. How is she meant to come back from that, with only the support of other 15-18 year olds, each having problems of their own? It’s an extremely difficult thing to do, to overcome so much with so little.

And we never see her manage it. Her story ends, and there’s no way to know what the future holds, and yes, maybe it is great success, maybe it’s riches and acclaim and a happy loving family, but probably not. It is more likely that she will live out her life perfectly average, if marginally unhappy. In a story like Glee, a perfectly average life is a failure, an undesirable end. The tragedy of Quinn Fabray’s story is that it is grounded in reality, in a narrative built on fantasy. She is, for all intents and purposes, one of the only characters we see end the story without what she wants, despite all the work she puts in to acquire it.

And what does Quinn Fabray want? Fame? Stardom? Acclaim? These are the things Glee bases success around, and every other member of the main cast strives for it in one way or another. Santana wants to be a star. Mike and Brittany want to be famous dancers. Tina wants to be a beloved vocalist. And Quinn’s desires do not fall in line with this precedent. She doesn’t strive for fame, she doesn’t want NYADA or Broadway or any other over-the-rainbow goal that her friends scratch and claw and bite for. What Quinn wants, more than anything in the world, comes down to two things: to have agency, and to be understood. And yes, in the real world, these things are a tall order. It’s very very rare to find one, let alone both. But in a story where William Schuester gets to help create his very own performing arts school, for Quinn not to find either one feels like a bucket of ice water to the face. It’s a window to the real world in the middle of a cinder block wall built specifically to keep it out.

Quinn is an incredible character, and standing alone her story is phenomenal and poignant. It would have a powerful message about love, loss, and struggle. But within the constraints of Glee, it feels almost… disappointing. Quinn’s story was stifled by the larger narrative it exists in, but it would have thrived if it had the space to. This is not to say there isn’t merit to stories like Glee, where we can pretend for the moment that the world is a just place, and that all who deserve to will get the chance to show everyone just how great they are. But Quinn didn’t belong to that world. She didn’t get the chance to. And that’s exactly what’s so sad.

#quinn fabray #glee #i don’t know if this makes any sense #and if it doesn’t i apologize #i’m not the best at getting my thoughts across #just to reiterate i don’t mean this to shit on the other character’s stories or anything #i just feel like hers didn’t really match their energy #if that makes sense #how tf do people post on here regularly this is so scary #rubbing my two braincells together

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson fic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst/fluff #manny tlou #wlf #washington liberation front #abby anderson / reader #abby/reader

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 2

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: You guys. I can’t thank you enough for the response. It only pushes me harder to create something with the best of my abilities. Each and every one of you who took the time deserve the whole world.

WORDS: 6529 WARNINGS: NONE

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

Again.

Hands to the sides, swinging, letting them be with the natural air’s flow, to the wind that was subtle, yet could break even the tiniest bit of focus. Hair up so tightly, your scalp started to hurt, but that could be ignored. You stretched your neck to the right just to ease that slight discomfort that probably wasn’t there at all, but one you’d put the blame on if the next one goes wrong.

One deep breath in. This shouldn’t be so hard the fifth time.

“Go.”

Sprinting down the dark blue mat, you let the non-existent wind take you. You let your feet fly you high up into the sky. You let your limbs take control over your mind. Closer. Closer. The vault was right in front of you.

Hands up to the ceiling, you pushed your feet hard against the ground, bent over so you could place your weight down onto your arms just as your powdered palms hit the floor, then you were in circles, letting your body flip to its own will, letting it take its place suspended from the surface, then your hands felt the rough exterior of the vault, you pushed yourself further up. One, two flips. Then it was all a blur until your feet landed on the mat.

Just slightly, you almost fell off balance. Just a bit.

But if this were the Olympics it would have costed quite the number of points.

When you opened your eyes, Dick was there coming to you, clapping his hands. You smiled at him and he handed you your water bottle.

“How was it?”

“Really good. You’re getting better.”

You scoffed. “I almost fell at the end.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself.”

You drank the whole bottle and wiped your lips with your sleeve, which you probably shouldn’t have done considering it was covered in both your sweat and powder.

“How old were you when you could do that?” you asked the other gymnast. “Eight? Nine?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t exactly the best at it.”

Your head shaking, you sat yourself on the ground and Dick joined you.

“Last night was too close a call,” you said. “I could have died. Someone else could have died.”

“Trust me. It happens so much more often than you think. To everyone.”

You scratched the back of your neck. “This happens way too fucking much with me.”

“I know it feels that way, but even Bruce makes a wrong move every once in a while.”

That was different. He gets shot almost once a month. Man’s lucky to be alive at all without a sped-up healing factor or Jason’s Lazarus enhanced body system.

Then Dick reached over to grab your hand. “We have each other’s backs. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He squeezed your hand, and something in you wasn’t exactly sure if you should believe in yourself to protect him, no matter how much you wanted to. But his hand was warm, reassuring. Only that could make you believe in him just a bit more than you believed in yourself.

The only other acrobat in the family. He knew your struggles. You knew his. Dick certainly was going to be there for you just as he always had been with your training. If not for him, you’d still be struggling to swing around poles.

So you just took in his little words that always kept pushing you forward. You held his hand back.

“You really don’t think I’m the worst fighter in the family?”

He snorted. “Is that what you really think of yourself?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re not. Come on, don’t say that. And don’t blame yourself. I saw you drawing on your sketchbook this mornin-“

“Dick, you did not-“ you growled.

“You have talent. You were raised as a gymnast but you have the heart of an artist. I can tell. You should practice more often. Don’t punish yourself for not being the best at the same things as everyone else.”

Then Dick started pulling you up. “Come on. Let’s watch Anchorman to cheer you up.”

Chuckling as you swept your hair back, you both left the gym and went straight for the theater room.

You weren’t exactly sure if you could point out when you fell in love with him. With what words he’d said that pushed you to do better, with what training session that placed you one step closer to being as good as he was, with what look in his eye that tickled your soul. You just knew it was with all of them, gradually adding up. At the end, it was far too late to turn back.

-----

Bruce Wayne looked exceptionally handsome to say the least.

And it wasn’t exactly to your cause or fault. You based the painting off of a photograph he’d given you from a few years ago, a portrait taken from his office to place in the Wayne Enterprises website Tim had built. Save for the fact that you took too long with his fairly recognizable angular jaw, everything went smoothly. His hair was swept back, quite longer than the length it was of today. A few grey strands near his ears, ones that couldn’t be seen if you didn’t look too long. His eyes, a bright, beautiful shining blue had two little dots of white near the iris where the light had reflected.

You managed to hide his jaw with a few stubbles of hair near his chin, which didn’t exactly do as much cover as you’d hoped, since Bruce didn’t want a full beard. But with the angles and the shadows, the tanned beige that was his skin looking perfect against your imaginary brightness. He looked towards the left, eyebrows up as if watching something that delighted him. A black suit and a red tie over what could be seen on his chest, he looked like the other old Waynes in the hallways of the manor, stuck to the walls for the past decades without motion, though his had the perfectly placed taste of modernity and charm.

That was the biggest one you had to lug into the manor. Bright and early that morning, you got all of Bruce’s commissioned works and brought them to the foyer. Two portraits, one of him and the other of Thomas and Martha. And the last one being a painting of Wayne Manor. You had them standing by the staircase, where Bruce should come down to by now before he heads for work.

You sat on the bottom step on the stairs and waited, arms on your knees. No one was up yet, or had come down for breakfast.

And you were still so tired. Not until four am that morning, you finally had your minute shed of sleep, until you had to wake up less than two hours after that, then you rushed here. Resting your chin on your hand, you closed your eyes, let the buzz on your head lull you to sleep.

“Mornin’ pretty bird.”

Not exactly with a grunt, but with the slightest hit of annoyance, you opened your eyes. Jason wasn’t shirtless, at least. So you thankfully you didn’t have to suffocate at the sight of chest. Still, he was sweaty and fresh from the gym. His hair was a bit damp, shirt stuck to his skin like perfectly molded clay. And of course, his cheeky little grin whenever he teased you.

“Hi,” you said, then you yawned.

“You here to hand these paintings to Bruce?”

“Yeah.” You chose to stand up, brush off the tiredness and force yourself to talk. “What do you think?”

He stepped back, eyed all three of them with his lips flattened into a light pout. You stood beside him and watched how his expression didn’t change, not even when he leaned in to look at the details on Bruce’s face.

“Bruce has an age spot near his mouth.”

“He does?”

“Yeah. And his nose is a little crooked from a recent injury.”

You just scoffed. “Well, sorry I haven’t been around lately to notice.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” He placed his hands into his pockets. “They’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“Thomas’s eyes look uneven-“

“Come on, man, give me a break,” you snorted.

Jason laughed. “I’m serious.”

Eyes rolling over and your arms hugging your chest, you cocked your hip to the side.

Jason’s eyebrow raised when he laid eyes on the manor painting, and it was amusing to watch him, someone who actually had a handful of criticisms and wasn’t afraid to lay it on you.

The only one who has never bought a painting from you, showered you in compliments almost everyday, or spoiled you with unnecessary babying. Jason didn’t exactly look unimpressed. In fact, you knew he had an interest in the classics, especially books and art. So he knew what he was talking about. And really, the spoils were to cushion your trauma, which you didn’t exactly ask for, so it was refreshing.

In fact…

If there was anyone who didn’t treat you any differently before and after the incident, someone who still looked at you the same and didn’t make you feel like a burden to make feel better, it was Jason.

And you appreciated that.

So all he gave you was a pat on your shoulder, then he tightened his duffel bag on his arm.

“Well, I’m off. Good luck, pretty bird.”

You just nodded at him as he headed out the manor’s foyer. His arm was up, waving at you, then you looked away before you caught yourself and your lingering eyes on his stomach, where his long coat had parted open, where his shirt so slightly raised up.

You agreed to coming to the manor solely for the fact that it was the only available time for both parties.

You agreed to that, totally without a fresh-from-the-gym Jason Todd in mind.

Yes.

Totally.

Keeping your wandering head in check, you heard loudening footsteps coming from above. A large man in a suit fixing his blue tie swiftly made his way down the steps.

“Great. You’re here.”

“Mornin’ Bruce.”

He gave you a peck on the cheek when he reached the bottom step. “Take your look.”

Eyes wide and grin inescapable, Bruce went over to the three paintings you had laid out. A satisfied hum, (or was it a grunt?) when he leaned over to look at his own portrait, at all the little details Jason had mentioned. Then a smirk crept up at the painting of his parents, his mother especially. The beautiful brunette, probably more beautiful than anyone else who’s ever lived in this manor, had on a flowy white dress, hair up in curls much like a 1920s flapper girl. Then his father, Thomas, an eerie mirror image to his son’s face and gloomy expression. He was on a lounge chair with his fingers over one another. Martha had on a smile, Thomas did not. Bruce looked satisfied.

Then he was full on amused when he laid eyes on all the little details you managed to capture with your painting of Wayne Manor. It’s castle-like structure. Incredible gothic architecture with little gargoyles and angels on the ledges. Then there were the uprooting vines on its groundwork’s sides. The green moss forming over its walls. Windows tinted black. Towers on each corner rising almost four stories high. You might as well have accepted a commission from the Queen to paint fucking Windsor Castle. It far more difficult than Wayne Tower or Times Square or any skyscraper there was.

That’s why you were particularly proud of that one.

“Outstanding as usual, Y/N. You’ve gotten even better over the past few months.”

You just shrugged. “Thank you.”

“Have you decided to go on with the auction?”

Ah. The auction. No, you haven’t pondered long on it. No, you still weren’t so sure if you should. Yes, you’d like that money.

“I don’t know Bruce…”

He fixed his suit. “These can go for a few thousands. Easy. And a portion goes to that charity you wanted-“

“The Children’s Burn Unit.”

“Yeah. That one. It’s amazing as it is.”

“I’ll think more about it. Thank you, Bruce.”

“The money will be sent over to your account. I have to head to the office now. Thank you.”

A hug and a kiss, then Bruce put on his winter coat left the building out into the snow. You went over to the first portrait to take it off from the easel.

You could take a cab back, or ask Alfred to send a driver for you, which you weren’t sure if you should. Though you were dead tired and wanted every bit of sleep you could get, that limo just seemed a lot more comfortable than a smelly taxi. Maybe if you asked now you could-

“Hey, Y/N.”

You froze.

“Let me help.”

Hair dancing on his head as he floated down the stairs, Dick rushed over to your side and started helping you with loosening the easel’s grip on the canvas. Everything happened so quickly you swore you heard something short circuit in your cerebellum and you couldn’t lift a finger when he set you aside.

Then you cartoonishly shook your head, then coughed a bit of a laugh. “Dick, it’s okay-“

Dick smiled, then handed the canvas over to you while he folded up the easel. He looked fresh out of the shower. Hair swept back now that he was still, skin looking radiant and tan, mouth up in his award-winning smile. He brushed his hair back as he went on to the second easel. You took care of the third one.

“Where you headed to this morning?” you asked.

“Nowhere. I knew you were coming over today. You didn’t forget our movie date, did you?”

Coughing out the speck of lint that you breathed in when you inhaled too quickly, you fumbled with the easel, hoping they wouldn’t fall off from your arms, then you just settled them against the wall along with the other stuff you had laid out. Breathe in. Then out. Arms on your side, you (far too casually) sighed. “Of course not!”

When he’d finished with the cleaning, Dick went over to you, smiling, staring straight into your eyes. And you were undeniably unmoving. You just hoped your eyes, cheeks, and most probably your trembling mouth wouldn’t be speaking to him in your place.

“I..” you swallowed. “What are we watching?”

“There’s Something About Mary.”

“Oh,” you sounded intrigued. “I love that movie.”

“You okay watching it again?”

Of course. Of course. Of course. Of course. I’d watch fucking Shrek ten times over if it was with you.

“Sure.”

You went with him up the stairs, laughing, chatting. You couldn’t stop watching Dick’s bright little simper and the way he’d look at you with his head down. It was one of these moments, definitely. You didn’t know when, what day or hour. But you knew it was because of the way he’d look at you, the way that had helped get you to reach this point of no return.

When he helped you train, flip vaults, leap in the air, hold your hand as you swung around poles and did cartwheels, when he trained you the same way he was trained, an acrobat’s way of fighting. All those hours in the grounds, rewarded with a night of movies and popcorn.

When you lost your leg, you lost all that. You lost a part of you had treasured so much overtime. He tried making it up by being there when you painted, told you how great your paintings were, buying them when he didn’t need to.

It wasn’t the same. Nothing was ever the same. But you’d take any time with him over anything.

Never mind how you didn’t stick around in his head when you weren’t in the room anymore the same way he was practically glued to yours.

A rush of cold air unexpectedly gusted against you when you stepped into the theater room. The aircon had been turned on, for quite a while it seems. Two seats propped down on the center of the second row, where you both usually sit on. Two bags of popcorn on them, with your favorite drink sitting on the arm rest. The movie was on pause on the title screen.

Dick had prepared everything for you before you even got to the manor.

“Are we celebrating or something?”

You tried to ignore the fluttering that was happening, at the sweetness, kindness of his looks. Though saying it was kindness would be more fitting than sweet. You plopped down onto your seat and settled yourself in. Dick took the one next to you, with a wide-open grin you wanted to watch even more than the movie.

“Play.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

.

His friends say stop whining,

They've had enough of that.

His friends would say stop pining,

There's others girls to look at.

They've tried to set him up with Tiffany and Indigo,

But there's something about Mary that they don't know.

.

Your lips up your cheeks looked quite pleased, though you hadn’t an idea if your eyes were doing the same. They were glued to the screen, but your hands wouldn’t stop twiddling with the same piece of popcorn on your fingers. You weren’t nervous, as was the same with any other time you hung out with Dick, but again, you wanted to be cautious.

And it was going to be even more difficult to be just that when nothing has ever felt softer, more serene, more exciting than any other time with him. Dick was here, just mere inches away from you. The time you had, how much you used to enjoy just talking to him over anything. His lame jokes that make you laugh to this day, his compassion.

You just wanted to lean into his shoulder and stay there for the rest of the movie. For the rest of the day. For the rest of the week. Dick made you feel like you could spend every day with him and never get tired of anything he does or says. Like you were in an amusement park. A day of excitement. You could scream your heart out and let every voice inside you be heard. The days seemed brighter, the nights seemed prettier. Everything. The whole world just lit up when Dick was there.

And most of all, you could be yourself and he’ll make you feel like there’s nothing about you you’ll ever have to change.

Like you can be the worst at something and he would be there, helping you up, training you to do better, telling you how much of your effort won't go unnoticed and how you let your mind wander with his words and…

People look at you, at him, and think you fell for him for his looks.

It wasn’t that at all.

Dick laughed when Ben Stiller had his penis caught in his zipper, and you laughed along, pretending to know what was going on, but with the side of your eye, you were staring at him, at his eyes, at how the blue popped out when it was lit up by the bright white light of the screen.

It wasn’t just his looks.

It was all of him.

But you let things be. You never made a move. Neither did he.  

You already lost time with him after the incident, and more so were you going to lose him when he was about to get married. Even just as friends, as nothing more than that, you wouldn’t trade what you had, those training sessions and movie marathons, over anything. When he had Kory, everything about him was going to be wiped out of your life forever.

But he was here now, as much as you hated how things came to be, how much he had to get hurt in the process just so you could get back what you had with him. You hated it. But there was no changing it now. He was here. For as long as you hoped.

So you finally ate that first piece of popcorn. You set your own mind’s countless thoughts to that one corner they’ve grown accustomed to hiding in. You watched the movie. You laughed when you had to. Everything was as it was all those years ago. There was no pretending that maybe he was going to see you the same way you saw him, because however he saw you now, whatever was going on no matter how platonic, you were content. It made you happy enough.

Hair on your skin standing up in the air, Dick leaned in to whisper something in your ear.

“This dog fight’s the most 2000’s thing I’ve seen.”

You laughed, “You sure it isn’t the outfits?”

You turned your head over, which proved to be a big mistake because his face was so dangerously close to yours. Your smile faltered. You were staring at him so stupidly still, you swore you just wanted to bury your head into the pile of popcorn and die.

But again with your muscles and nerves defying your head, because you didn’t even back away.

Dick smiled at you.

Then he looked down, and you realized he was looking at your hand. Suddenly every bit of flesh in your body warmed to the touch, your skin burned but in the most delicate, elusive scorch you could still pick out, yet it wouldn’t hurt your senses. Dick took your hand and held it so tightly, his thumb resting between your fingers, then he swayed it around to bring you comfort.

You wished it wasn’t as casual as it actually was, yet it brought that wonderful little rush up the veins on your neck, your nerves calmed. Everything was okay. Nothing felt better.

“I’m glad we get to spend time again.”

You couldn’t bear to look at his face anymore. Your hand was loose, it refused to return his tight hold in fear of him letting go or of anything being too much. You turned to your lap, watched your feet sway about. Eventually, Dick let go, but you were going to remember that feeling on your skin, how his palms rubbed against you and how nicely he seemed to fit within the spaces of your fingers.

An hour or so passed, you were quiet. You didn’t say anything and neither did he outside the little remarks and the laughs, or even his feet brushing against your shoe. Everything felt like the eminence and the little snaps and sparks that were so nice to hear when you sat a few feet away from a fireplace.

His shoulder was so close to your head. You swore you could count the inches with your own fingers. Just a little. Just a bit. The slightest push and you’d be against him. He’d be holding you. Dick suddenly shifted in his seat and he was even closer to your cheek. Fingers on the arm rests, you were already so close to touching. Half your attention was to the screen and the other was that pull that made you want to just fall into him, never to go away.

But of course, you didn’t.

When the movie ended, Dick stood up and patted your shoulder. Your bowls of popcorn were long finished, so were your drinks. You watched him get up, stretch his arms.

“Thank you,” you said to him. An eyebrow of his rose to his forehead. “Why thank me?”

You shrugged. “You prepared all this.”

“Don’t sweat it. We should do this again. Tell me when you're coming over next.”

And at that, you wanted to tell yourself you should come over more often, do what you can to be at his side, actually work to pursue him, to spend as much time with him as humanely possible. Doesn’t matter if he actually does fall in love with you or not. For your own sake.

But to say you even had hope left was a lie. You don’t. Never had since years ago. It wouldn’t matter if you came by every week or none at all. Nothing was going to change. Just that little moment of happiness that won't ever last. Moments like these.

You’ve spent too much time pretending, hoping, wishing things would go your way, until eventually you reached that point where you weren’t sure what was your way was anymore.

So you weren’t exactly thrilled at the thought of getting to be with him more often, just like you weren’t so ecstatic when Dick told you he was permanently moving back in. Because if anything, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you were too burnt out and have gone through the worst, most agonizingly frustrating mountains of yearning and pining that no matter what he did that could hurt or reject you, without his intentions, you wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised. If you were to do anything beyond that, it would only worsen the pain.

All those years, and you never told Dick how you felt. You never wanted to tell him. You never felt the need to.

And as if the world did it on purpose, in came the whole reason why that thought continues to be even with Kory out of the picture.

A beautiful head of red hair peaked in from the theater’s entry way. “Hey, you two.”

Dick waved at her. “Hey Babs.”

Yeah. Holding on was your own little way of self-torture. Babs came in. “Am I late for the party?”

“Yeah. Movie just finished.”

You stood up from your seat, finally, then dusted off your pants. “Hi, Babs.”

“You staying over for the day, Y/N?”

“Not really.”

The three of you stepped out of the little theater, walking behind Dick and Babs like a friend who couldn’t walk beside her other two friends because the sidewalk was too narrow.

“Dick, I need your help over at the cave.”

“Sure. Right now?”

“Yes. That okay?”

Dick looked over to you. “Y/N-“

“I should head home,” you said. “Or go up to Tim.”

“Tim?”

“Yeah. He told me to stop by his room when I deliver Bruce’s paintings.”

“Oh.”

Smiling at him even with what little time you had eventually came to an end, you walked up to the stairs and waved. “I’ll see you.”

“See you.” You lingered your gaze, and Dick returned that gaze at you up the steps as he made his own way down to the library with Babs. One last smile, then he was out of sight.

Nothing new. Nothing you weren’t already used to.

Things are less painful when you weren’t pining after him anymore.

It was sad how easily you shrugged that off. As you went down the bedroom halls, feet lightly pattering onto the red carpet, you knocked three times on Tim’s door. A grunt. Then you peaked inside.

Tim must have been working all night, because he definitely looked like he just got into bed a few hours ago, and it was still well in the morning. Hair was a complete mess. Body slumped onto the mattress like a carcass. His mouth was wide open and leaking with drool. Nose all scrunched up from being smushed into the pillow. He was half-awake, because one eye was slightly open and staring right at you. When you closed the door, you heard him grunt again.

“You alright there, Tim?”

He closed his eyes and ignored you, and you just laughed at how dark his under eyes were and how completely exhausted he looked.

But he was undeniably adorable. You went over and got a pillow, playfully hitting his head.

“Stooooop,” he groaned.

“It’s almost nine in the morning. Aren’t you heading to the office?”

“I just got home from the office.”

“Shit.” You sat on the bed beside him, then you reached over to fix his hair. He started to tense, but he didn’t brush you off.

“Stay at home for once. Just a day. Give yourself a break,” you said. Tim opened one eye again, then he groaned.

You started taking your shoes off. This asswipe was going to need you here to make sure he doesn’t drown himself in a tub off coffee again just to pull himself off the bed, so you were going to make sure he doesn’t leave.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until afternoon,” he yawned.

For some ungodly reason, an image of Jason’s abs flashed into the back most corner of your head like a fucking projector. Only for the shortest spilt second, and still it was long enough that you’d notice it. You immediately brushed it off.

“I just thought we’d get it over with for the day.”

He turned his head over to bury it against the pillow to drown out the light coming in from the window. You walked over and pulled the curtains to a close, as with the other ones, until his room was dim enough for him to actually get some sleep.

Tim’s desk was an absolute mess, and he probably didn’t notice how his laptop was so close to falling over the edge, with half of it sticking out of the table. You closed and placed it all the way back against the wall, then the mounds of paperwork he’d piled over the surface that was blowing up all over the place. You didn’t care if he was going to rant on about touching his stuff. You placed everything into a neat pile, set them at the side where it was all easily seen, then you went over the drawers to start fixing them one by one, because even with them closed, there were still pieces of paper sticking out of them like a bomb had gone off inside the wood.

He was snoring now. Audibly snoring. You looked back at him and tried not to laugh.

Then you went back to the drawers.

You hadn’t an idea what to expect, or that you should be expecting anything at all.

But whatever those expectations were, none of them were could come in the slightest bit as close to what you found on the bottom most drawer, where more pieces of paper were inside, though these definitely had been ripped out of a sketchpad. Your sketchpad.

Even when you hadn’t expected it, it didn’t exactly surprise you.

You opened the drawer and found dozens, if not hundreds of drawings and sketches, all made by your hand. The one on top, of course, was the most recent one you’d given him, from the night at the office with them sitting on the railings together. It was slightly crumpled, which meant Tim had brought it with him around before placing it in the pile.

Then you went over the next ones, ones you don’t even remember sketching until then. There was one from that trip to the country, when you and Tim went out for a drive and you drew the skyline and the mountains, which he asked for when you got home. Then there was one when he asked you to draw a bird that had flown into his room. It took you minutes, probably the worst, most rushed out sketch you’ve done. But it was a bird. You could tell it was a bird.

You were smiling through it all, going over the sketches that meant so little to you back then, something you would have otherwise thrown in the trash when you were done. Everything was still neatly folded and piled, unlike everything else in his desk.

Another of the Watchtower that one time with an emergency and you all had to rush up there to help, then there was one of him being a goof, sleeping on the lounge chair that you’d done over a few quick minutes before he eventually wakes up and catches you. One of Ace. One of Bruce.

Drawings you don’t even remember doing.

But what really caught your breath was at the bottommost pile of sketches, ones you were sure you didn’t draw yourself.

Because no matter how long you’ve been drawing faces, or how many people you’ve sketched even when they just pass by you in the street or in the subway. No matter how good you’ve gotten over time or how people tell you to keep going, you’ve never in your life drawn a portrait of yourself.

And there, hidden amongst the other pieces of paper, though distinct from the kind of paper you had from your sketchpad, were several sketches of you.

And it undeniably wasn’t from your hand. These were sloppier. The hand didn’t seem so steady. Haven’t been drawing for long. At least as long as you did.

But they were all of you.

You sitting on the chair by the fireplace. You in your old suit. You painting in front of an easel. You with the family. You sitting on the stairs.

And there were quite a few with just your face. Looking at the side, looking straight at him. Smiling from ear to ear like you were listening and seeing something that amused you so much. These were more recent, as the details got better. They weren’t as good as yours, but they were good enough that anyone would be able to recognize the way your eyes smiled just as brightly as your lips.

It was embarrassing, because you never liked the idea of yourself as a subject for your own work.

But you knew. You just knew.

Tim drew these himself.

And it might be because he wanted to learn how to draw as good as you can to have more in common, because he wanted to draw you the way you drew him and return the favor. It might be because he wanted to be closer to you and your passion, have a taste of that world with you in it just to feel like you were in the same dimension as him, close that gap where he couldn’t touch.

It might be because he wanted to keep you in his memories and make those memories into something he could hold and look at, just as you would with him and everyone else you loved.

Or it might be to show you how much he’d paid so much attention to the littlest details on your face, memorized them, kept them at the back of his mind he’d so easily recall, show you how much those details meant to him and how he wouldn’t let even one slip away from his gaze.

Something in you was pulling, tugging, and it didn’t exactly hurt as much as it was wonderfully buzzing. You placed everything back into the drawer and breathed in.

One deep breath.

Then you stood up, pulled on the little sofa chair he had on the side of his bed, then sat on it to face him. The lights were dim, and everything was quiet around you.

Smiling as you stared at him with his pillow all drenched with his drool, his snores getting louder each minute, you pulled out a little sketchpad from your pocket and a pencil.

Then you started with the outline of his face, half of it stuck into the pillow, then his hair that was all spread out and sticking to the air.

He was beautiful. So cute. Handsome far beyond average. No different from his brothers, from Bruce.

If there was one thing you realized when painting Bruce’s face, his eyes particularly,

It was that Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were all an eerie splitting image of him, never mind how not all of them were even blood-related.

Brothers.

It was sweet to think about, with them, Steph, Cass, Duke, all having each other’s backs with them being just that. You and Babs just kind of sat in with the Waynes, as some kind of extension to their bond, but not exactly to their kind of level to be considered brothers.

You weren’t pursuing Dick. You haven’t for years. And if he was asking you to come over, spend time with him alone, give you that little bit of hope you’ve long said goodbye to, you weren’t exactly sure what to think.

Because you were afraid that if anything was ever going to move forward, you wouldn’t be able to control how it ends. The fall would be greater than anything you’ve ever had to go through in your life. Because if in any way, Dick would be yours, the pain you’ve had for so many years will turn out for the worst. You’ll lose him and actually lose him. And Dick was so easy to lose, so easy to be stolen away from you, like he could just slip and move on, and you’d be stuck there, in the same place as you were today.

Dick scared you, and it wasn’t in any other way than for that reason.

Tim was security, comfort, relief, and home. The kind you could come home to after a long day and fall into a little bubble of just you. Nothing could ever possibly happen to you, or put you in danger when you were in his arms.

His arms. One of the best things to draw, in fact. They were lean and strong, and they were reaching up the headboard, one over his head and one under the pillow. You kept sketching out his body formed under the thin sheet of the blanket over him, then you skipped out on the bed and everything else.

You ripped out the drawing and placed it on the desk for him to find in the morning.

This might be the start of that little push you needed to move forward.

That push you needed to start choosing him.

Again.

You were still unsure, with all that history you thought you’d left behind, but you were, in fact, sure that Tim loved you more than anything you’ll ever come to understand.

You sat on the edge of the bed. He stopped snoring. His mouth was closed now and he was sleeping peacefully, though not as deeply.

You reached over and unlatched your prosthetic leg, slipped it off from your knee and set it aside against the bed.

Then you lied down on the mattress, shifting and inching closer to face him directly. You could feel his breath, hot but light. You were smiling with your faces so close together, at the sight of his eyelashes so peacefully resting on his cheek and his lips stagnant and unmoving, though his nose would occasionally twitch like a bunny’s and his chest was lightly rising.

You moved even closer to him until he was barely three inches away from your face.

When you delicately brushed your finger down his cheek, Tim’s one eye fluttered open. You smiled. He smirked back.

Your hand stayed on his face, then just as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his arm reach over your waist, staying there until you awoke in each other’s arms.

 -----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: WADDUP HOES. HOPE U LIKED THIS CHAPTER CUZ IT’S ABOUT TO GET EVEN MORE CHAOTIC

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@spaceservicestation​

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #reader insert #batfam #batfamily reader insert #dc comics #batman #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

[larrythefloridaman]

Y'all like your deities with or without the shell?

Under the readmore is aaaaaaaaall color god observations and musings based on them, because I am studying to become the world's Premiere Chromatheologian and RGB Understander so under the cut is pretty much Oops! All Spoilers! up to the most recent episode of season 3.

Apparently Universal Color God Attributes:

Damage to their domain hurts them, but fixing the issue, or lashing out by using their powers destructively, can help them to repair the damage.

If they sustain enough damage, it can temporarily paralyze them and send them into a strengthened but 'exposed' state (chartreuse's spirit activation in the last fight of 19) and further damage after that will activate a failsafe, which is unique by domain but seemingly designed to give them the chance to balance things, but can get… very out of hand or backfire depending on circumstances. (see: cobalt’s failsafe sending mark's universe into a never-ending apocalyptic war because word of the cure for death became too widespread for the killing urge failsafe to affectively balance anything because every side could simply revive their fallen.)

Chartreuse's failsafe is something of a stopped time bubble quarantine where processes that require the passing of time cannot complete, allowing her the time to wear down the offending party to beat them to death or plan around finishing them.

Cobalt's is inciting war, the casualties serving to balance the scale. I'm not sure we know Crimson's yet- he's never taken enough direct damage without doing damage to compensate in order to trigger it, although i dont remember season one well enough to recall if any of the universe stuff in it tracks with the pattern bc season one is a bit fucky

Connected in a fashion that allows them to simply Sense the overall status of the others to some extent, although they don't know Why theyre in the state theyre in without asking (chartreuse [and by extension, folk, presumably on her information] confronting crimson via crimsonaut for pretending to be dead, Cobalt confronting both his siblings about how they are handling their duties improperly but not knowing about Folk. He knew about the constants deaths because hes a death god, duh, but he didnt use their names like crimson did, possibly implying they're erased upon death so thoroughly that only crimson and the constants can really recall a shattered constants' existence, not even the other guardians.)

Abilities of the guardians can be replicated by mortals through three apparent methods- through machines (dimensional bus, the time machine, presumably J0hn's part in Sephiroth's resurrection,) simply through advanced enough individual skill (Home MD curing death, potentially Dantoinette's universe portal travel, maybe Genwun's sped up time bubble that evolved them into Genfour? although that could very well have just been an illusion and theyre just like, a fuckin theater kid that was doing pretend character development for the Bit or something given GenFive turned out to be a zoroark) or through stealing some of the power of the relevant god (Dr. Order stealing Chartreuse's power, Dani maybe having stolen some of Crimson's when she beat his ass. Dani's one woman universal travel is like, wicked ambiguous)

Cobalt:

Can seemingly perceive or act through any living material. (The Tree. Cobalt instructed Larry to slap his hand on that tree, that shit glowed and he had a new deal tattoo without Cobalt ever having been physically present)

Can influence the resurrected by giving them a killing urge. Represented by an aberrant brainwave and a ringing in the undead's heads. This doesnt appear to be direct control- as the Grunk could clearly restrain himself from killing people that genuinely didn't deserve it (like nightly and cha cha, who WERE grunk event targets but not fatally so. Nagito was a crimson thing so it really doesn't count here. God poor grunk his life really is just a constant plaything in the hands of the gods huh) and Sephiroth very much had personal motivation to want to kill Folk. failsafe activates this ability on the scale of war.

Deals. The extent of what Cobalt can do with these is unclear but Iggy's god powers were taken from him as his part in the deal so what he can take isn't limited to physical things or things obviously related to his domain.

Weaknesses:

Deals. While this ability is impressive his preference for making deals for those that offend against his domain is potentially very exploitable- Larry's knowledge of the cure for death is, if word of it were to ever get out beyond Larry, wildly dangerous for this dimension, so technically the safest thing for the iron-fisted cobalt to do would be to nip the problem in the bud and get rid of him. But, fascinatingly, that wasn't even put on the table, the first thing Cobalt does is threaten J0hn, prompting Larry to make a deal. While Cobalt enforces death, he also doesn't like unnecessary death, and Larry demonstrably knows how to keep a secret for the good of the world even at great cost to himself and Cobalt is aware of this- easily clarifying to Larry the aberrant thing endangering the universe wasn't his timeloop business. So while he's clearly not letting his resurrection fuckery go unpunished, he's being pretty merciful when he doesn't have to be and from a strictly, brutally pragmatic perspective probably shouldn't be.

His control over the undead manifests as a ringing and an aberrant brainwave trackable by J0hn's equipment, and could probably therefore be accounted for and circumvented? J0hn has, wisely, largely sworn off fucking with people's brains after the sephiroth fiasco went So Wrong, So Very Wrong, Oh God Oh Fuck Someone Cool Almost Died, but if he hadn't, and if J0hn let his dislike for authority and keeping Larry safe outweigh reason like he let safety, spite and comedic value outweigh good ethical sense when reprogramming sephiroth, in theory Mr. 'hacked a time machine for breakfast?' could. y'know. probably do it. what is a god's authority to an anarchist, what better to challenge life and death than the cold and eternal machine, you get the point its a fun scenario

Olive Garden Breadsticks and Small Cute Dogs, apparently

Chartreuse's:

Time Clones: taps into parallel timelines to retrieve alternate versions of herself to utilize.

Time Travel: what it says on the tin. Travel to the past creates painful splits in the prime timeline, but through careful action and traveling back into the past, these can be weaved into a time loop. A split from the timeline is a wound, and a successful timeloop is the surgical scar it can become with attentive care, to use a medical metaphor. Carefully closed and healing. Keeping Folk here is essentially akin to chartreuse pulling out her stitches on the initial incision.

Time Stopping: creates a space wherein things that take time to complete cannot complete, where things can move, but everything within is in a perfect unchanging stasis until the bubble drops. This is the form her failsafe takes.

Timeline Creation: can create timelines from scratch.

Can fuse alternate timeline versions of the same individual to allow them to coexist. (Ryan's confirmed in the discord that Dantoinette experienced both failures in 20, because Chartreuse fused the two instances of her to save the post-raid instance from fading. Could... theoretically do this to Folk and save herself the pain, but while Folk and Therapuppy are the same person, there's seven years and untold amounts of difference deriving from the time and circumstance between them and the inherent cognitive dissonances that would result from attempting that would be wicked fucked up to inflict, and that's assuming there isn't some reason that it wouldn't be possible anyway. while the two Danis had like. A day or so's difference between them, so she could be safely fused with the only dissonant thing being that she remembers both being too slow to prevent order's time escape and beginning to dissipate post-raid, AND losing that fight to her pre-raid. RIP Dani, that perfectionism must be kicking her ass)

Weaknesses:

Unwilling to use her powers destructively in her pursuit of domain repair and thereby much easier to damage to the point of paralyzing her, making her particularly vulnerable to Power Theft

Morally Optimistic. At one point in 19, she briefly justifies Crimson's shitty evil actions to herself after experiencing for herself how Wack the kerfuffleverse is firsthand, ("and all he did was kill a couple people!" Chartreuse. Honey.) and when she fights Crimsonaut she seems to actually believe for a second that he's actually worried about her when Crimson asks if she's okay after he beats her. Additionally, as D+, she concerns herself with trying to understand doctor order's motive, and after Larry defeats Order, he makes a point of confirming she feels no remorse before making his request for what Chartreuse does with her, and appeals to the idea of letting Order fulfill her desire to be a god in a way which isn't a problem for anyone and Chartreuse is more than happy to oblige under these conditions after what Larry's done for everybody. Then immediately threatens to evaporate him for playfully teasing her about having a crush on folk. Fucked up a little bit

Crimson's:

Universe Shifting: Travel between universes.

Universe Correction: appears to replace an aberrant individual with the 'correct' version of themselves for that universe, presumably sending them back to their own. (Mario from super mario was universe corrected, but still seemingly exists in wario form as evidenced by smashup kerfuffle, and was simply temporarily replaced with his corrected universe counterpart. But like. The dimensional bus system is still active crimbo doing the Put That Thing Back Where It Came From Or So Help Me routine aint gonna work if they can come back with a shrug and bus fare. you're fighting the symptoms without treating the problem)

Universal Constants:

Three individuals per universe that serve as the pillars which stabilize said universe, created by absorbing red orbs Crimson creates. Becoming a constant grants power, but also makes the constant fragile, and death wipes them from the face of the multiverse, only crimson, those he's possessed and the other constants seemingly able to recall they ever existed, although some physical evidence is still left behind (Larry's record of Nagito's death, which is just as redacted as everything else relating to him but still is very much something Larry has. Kind of a Voidfish adventurezone type beat ironically enough? Taako really has seen all this shit before no wonder he peaced tf out)

To counterbalance the weaknesses the constants have, they have a sort of spidey-sense to alert them to danger, and an intrinsic bonded connection to their fellow constants, and additionally, Crimson apparently doesn't suffer any pain from the death of constants or the structural instability of a universe.

Possession: what it says on the tin! Seemingly can only be done with permission to living things- none of crimson's direct hosts seem to have entered that agreement unwillingly, Valentine lost a bet, Hamburger and Crimsonaut have been by all evidence intentional allies to Crimson- but electronics are fair game, as seen with The Guy's suit. Kinda curious how that rule applies to bitches that are half and half, like J0hn or the clonebot gang, as its unclear whether The Guy's suit was yoinkable without permission because it was mechanical or because its not sentient. could go either way but if it's the former that's potentially very frightening

Fusion: Two individuals from alternate universes can be fused into one shared body which can take on aspects of either depending on which is currently in control. (possibly allows someone who traveled into a given universe to become a fixed resident there without it being an issue for Crimson, whose job is to prevent interdimensional travel?) Monday Mark and possibly T.O.M. are our main examples.

Corruption:

Unpleasant As Hell and can even kill you instead of changing you if you cant handle it.

turns the corrupted individual into a twisted exaggeration of themself, allows them supernatural control over their shape, and makes them very difficult- if not impossible by traditional means- to kill, based on Garfield.

Subjects them to control by Crimson, but can be exorcised of this influence just like crimson's direct hosts can, although the supernatural changes to their physiology are seemingly permanent, judging from Shantae.

Notable Weaknesses:

Exorcism can be performed to free a possessed or corrupted individual of Crimson's influence. Its unclear how exorcism works/is learned in CPUK, but confirmed exorcists: dantoinette and yung papaya's snake dad, confirmed non-exorcists: folk

The universal constant orbs are physical objects so they are Very Stealable and they grant a power boost so theres literally an Incentive to beat his ass for anybody who wants to be strong and either doesnt know or doesn't care about the whole 'getting erased when you die' part

Crimson has lots of tools to create pawns, but all of them have drawbacks. Corruption could kill a potential pawn, possession generally seems to require permission, and he has no control over the constants' choices and actions

Manipulative bitch's highest stat is charisma and it shows. This motherfucker is selling snake oil. If he was mortal rather than a Whole Entire God he'd make an excellent ineffectual saturday morning cartoon supervillain and i think everyone, including him, would be happier for it, ngl

Something interesting ive realized that likely wasnt fully intentional, is that a lot of Dr. Order's creations, considering her motive, can kind of be sorted by a color god it appears to be a crude attempt at mimicking the abilities of. My Grunk is a poorly executed resurrection, the clonebot gang vs chartreuse's timeclones (this one deserves special mention because Chartreuse used this shitty attempted mimicry to her advantage with D+, very smart and ironic play, excellent job Treusy,) spirits are somewhat similar to universal constant orbs (orbs which can be absorbed to grant power, but which have physical repercussions- key differences being that spirits require activation and grow stronger while attuning to a user without being used, and having far less severe drawbacks, taking a heavy toll on the body, but only once they've worn off and without the risk of wiping yourself from the face of existence,) and she also augmented Perfect Spriteman and Larry, which kind of track as crude imitations of Crimson's corruption!

Garfield was an acerbic cat who loved food and hated mondays, now its an actively malicious ever-hungry amorphous entity whose only weakness is monday and whose only consistency in form is 'cat-like.'

Shantae was (to my extremely limited understanding of shantae,) a friendly heroic type who had to introduce herself often, and she became something akin to a biblically accurate angel that can *only* introduce herself.

The Grunks a tough but sweet and supportive single dad with stage presence and a tendency to fly off the handle when he or his family are slighted, and now he gets so hype in the audience when his son does well that he bursts into flames and ascends and we get random grunk events along with the associated murder charges when he gets mad and the target sucks enough that he doesn't hold himself back from killing them.

Perfect Spriteman and Larry fit the trend of exaggeration of already present traits- Spriteman fucking loves sprite and became something that only thinks about sprite, and Larry the Florida Man, characterized from minute one by unpredictability and who spent his first matches in the series pre-shapeshifter transformation staying alive keeping stocks for Shockingly Long even despite getting seventh, became literally physically random as well as developing the ability to regenerate, albeit with the ability to feel pain normally very much intact, unlike Garfield just... Soaking up damage like its nothing in his pursuit of Jon. The fact that Arbuckle legit defeated Garfield, even temporarily, is terrifyingly impressive honestly that dude is fucking built different for being so chronically bland

i dont think they're actually corrupted in any meaningful way we have to worry about, to be fully clear, Spriteman was cured with fucking antacids, i simply think they could be a fucked up attempt at making something that kind of seems like it from a functional standpoint, from the wannabe god doctor that brought us green clones whose only fundamental association with time was accelerated aging and who thought an actively rotting corpse thats just reanimated enough that it can throw hands was as good as curing death

#cpu kerfuffle #cpuk cobalt #cpuk chartreuse #cpuk crimson #im like. 80% all this info is correct but im not feeling up to rewatching matches to doublecheck rn ngl asdsfgfghgfhfgsdf #will probably edit with fixes if im misremembering smthn later

[bikerjongho]

stradivarius in flames | kim hongjoong

genre: supernatural, action

character: violin demon hunter!hongjoong

description: Hongjoong is a demon hunter that specifically fights and kills demons trapped inside violins, and now he’s tasked with destroying a multi-million dollar Stradivarius violin.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of a gun, fire, demons

author’s note: inspired by this post. and hold onto your horses @scriptura-delirus​ >:)

The train that was taking Hongjoong to the orchestra concert was late. And dressed to the nine's in a black suit, buzzed hair flat and elegant, and gun tucked neatly in his coat pocket, Hongjoong couldn't have been angrier. He had a violin to steal and burn.

Hongjoong was slated to have arrived at the concert venue an hour before the concert. Now, with twenty minutes past the beginning of the concert and still a few more miles to go due to an accident on the tracks, it was an understatement to say that he felt robbed by the train's service. Never in his life had he had a more important job to do.

Had this been a normal violin, had this been a normal demon, Hongjoong would have dropped the gig as he sat. But this was no ordinary violin, and this was no ordinary demon. A Stradivarius violin, one of only hundreds made and made by what connoisseurs say was the greatest violin maker of all time, Antonio Stradivari, was Hongjoong's target for this night. Worth millions, any violin made by Stradivari was heavily coveted and admired. Hongjoong had to make sure this one burned in flame.

And the demon that had implanted itself into this violin, while not much different than other demons that inhabited violins, was worrisome on its own purely by its ability to get its demon hands on a Stradivarius. He had a theory that demons favored violins because Satan's instrument was violin.

Hongjoong didn't know how these demons managed to inhabit violins and cause trouble. But the simple fact was that they did, and Hongjoong was there to stop them.

He had been in the business of banishing demons from violins for years. The actual banishment of the demon was easy enough - he just had to throw the violin into a fire. The hard part was actually obtaining the violin.

And sometimes, even that part was easy. Over his years at this job, Hongjoong found that demons preferred to inhabit smaller violins. Thus, he would appear at elementary schools to steal and destroy tiny and monstrous violins from orchestra rooms. Sometimes he stole violas. Less often he stole cellos and basses because they were too large and bulky for a demon to ever inhabit. Hongjoong was grateful for their preference, their liking to Satan. It would be nearly impossible to steal a bass at any time of the day or night.

But most of the time, stealing violins was a painful and difficult job. He no longer felt regret as he stole stringed instruments from homes, from venues, from schools, because of the damage the demon worried him more than a sad violinist ever could. Nonetheless, it was still painful to watch students sob over their stolen violin. Many times, he stole them at night when the demons were most active, silently breaking in and swiping the violin before anyone could notice. But all the same, he had his fair share of chases, fights, and prices placed on his head.

If demons were left in the violins, their energies and mischief would disrupt the living world. Hongjoong knew of people that had lost family members from these violin demons, which motivated him to keep burning violins on days he hated his job. And although he himself had never lost any family members from these demons, every day he walked on a tightrope, afraid he was one step away from slipping and losing someone he loved.

Hongjoong had his balance, at least for tonight. But as the train slowly moved closer to the Stradivarius, he couldn't ignore the knot that was forming in the center of his chest.

In the meantime, Hongjoong mapped out a plan in his brain for nabbing the violin. Even if it was a Stradivarius, it would have been infinitely easier to steal while it sat unused in its case before the performance. The fact that it was now being played and security guards made sure no one else could get into the theater to see the performance was yet another hurdle for Hongjoong to jump over. He silently cursed the accident that had prolonged his ride.

Alongside the security guards, the demons tended to act up the most when the violin was being played. What mischief it did exactly varied from demon to demon, but black mist and objects moving on their own accord were a staple of violin demons. Hongjoong tried not to think about how impossible this task would be, even if the violin wasn't a Stradivarius. Though, he did have a few tricks up his sleeve - it came with being rather practiced at magic and the police of all things supernatural.

Hongjoong had a few sets of magic marbles lined in his coat pockets. To the unobservant eye, they looked like regular marbles, but upon closer inspection they shimmered with magic. If Hongjoong threw one onto the floor, the magic inside it opened. Some created roaring flames, while some were able to transport him a couple hundred feet from where he stood. Others created smoke, and others slowed time. He didn't have any time ones, those were harder to come by, but the other three he had in full stock and was fairly certain he'd use them for this case.

Hongjoong mulled more in his seat about the marbles and his plan on getting the Stradivarius while the rest of the passengers on the train chatted merrily to each other, their thoughts free of demonic violins and magic marbles.

His thoughts were just pulling together into a ridiculous, yet perhaps doable plan, as the train slowed and stopped before honking its loud whistle as an arrival. Hongjoong stood up immediately and felt around for the concert ticket in his pocket. It was still there, and that was his way in. He hoped they'd let him into the performance even if he was late, but he was also capable of breaking glass and violating a few security rules. He hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

At last, Hongjoong was inside the concert venue, sweaty and tired after running continuously to reach it. He had considered using one of the magic balls to transport him to the venue faster while he lost his lungs running, but since the concert had started already, it didn't matter. He had already lost enough time.

His sweating and panting came in handy when he reached one of the workers that collected tickets. "I'm so sorry, my train was late," he gasped and handed over his ticket. "Pray that I can still watch the remainder of the concert?"

"It's no problem," said the worker, not unkindly, and led him to the entrance to the audience. Hongjoong adjusted the gun in his coat. He doubted he would need to use it, but he had it for protection. He was smirking, but gave a kind smile to the worker as she turned to let him into the auditorium.

As soon as he was let into the auditorium, he was hit with the repulsive and pungent scent of demon that he had grown so accustomed to. The black demon mist hung over the auditorium like a terrible omen. He was relieved to see that nothing else seemed disturbed, and no one else could smell hell itself or see the mist in the air. Everyone was too focused on the violinist that was playing her heart out on her awful violin.

Hongjoong had selected a seat directly above the violinist, just in case he had to watch the performance. The violinist's golden dress shimmered while she played, and to Hongjoong's horror, the demon was quite visible from the violin's f-holes. He had to get down to the stage immediately, even if it was going to cause a ruckus, even if it was going to scar everyone in the theater, even if the violinist was playing beautifully on a legendary violin.

One moment, he was sitting as a relaxed patron, watching the violinist perform. The next, he had swung himself over the safety railing and landed on the stage, smoke magic ball coming just before him and coating everything near with smoke and hiding Hongjoong.

"I'm sorry," Hongjoong whispered to the soloist underneath the screaming and gasps that had ensued from the crowd before kicking her feet out from under her and yanking the violin out of her hands. The bow clattered to the floor as the violinist screamed as she fell, but Hongjoong didn't need it.

And then he ran. He ran, carrying the violin that was worth more than his life and could pay off all of his debts tenfold. He ran off of the stage and into the backstage, where he quickly found an exit door after zooming by workers that were too startled to try and stop him. The screaming and thundering of multiple people close behind him made his heart jolt and his hands work faster. He thrusted open the door, and then the demon began hissing and screeching.

It would not stop hissing and growling, so Hongjoong held the violin close to his chest and pressed hard. He felt the wood crack and the bridge fall off, which quieted the demon. A shot rang out from behind him, making him run even faster into the night. He struggled in his pockets for the marble he needed, then threw it to the ground.

The transport marble - Hongjoong slipped away from the crowd of security guards without a trace, walking through the wavy air it created before it threw him a couple hundred feet forward. He could still hear and see the guards if he looked closely from where he had moved, but they'd never find him from here. Humans couldn't move that fast. And while Hongjoong was human, he had danced and gambled the line of supernatural for years. The screaming demon inside the Stradivarius he was holding was proof of that.

Even if Hongjoong was out of sight from the security officers, there was still a lot of running to be done. After all, the fire he was to create couldn't give away his location.

So Hongjoong ran. He ran through the forest, letting brambles and sticks scratch himself and the violin and his coat and his shoes and his pants while he ripped off the tuning pegs of the violin. Something about tearing apart the violin, breaking it and making it unplayable helped silence and weaken the demon. He pitched the pegs onto the ground as he ran and kept running, his legs burning like he had dropped a fire magic marble inside of them.

At last, Hongjoong couldn't hear the security guards anymore. He squeezed the violin against his body to crack it a bit more one last time to silence the demon's useless whining before pulling out a fire magic marble and throwing it onto the ground.

An inferno erupted from where the ball was, and Hongjoong was quick to toss the Stradivarius into the fire. Upon contact with it, the demon screamed turned to black steam steaming from the violin, and the violin's golden body turned black as the fire ate. The fire danced in Hongjoong's expressionless eyes as he watched the flames lick up the priceless wood and the demon that had tried to make a home in it. He had seen this exact scenario more times than he could count, but this one was different. The Stradivarius was an artifact, a treasure to the musical world, and he had destroyed it.

But the demon was a treasure from hell, sent to destroy and cause havoc on Earth. The orchestral snobs would simply have to get over their million dollar loss. As the flames licked up the last of the violin, Hongjoong gave a small smile. He was good at his job, he knew it, and the power that came with destroying demons was addicting. To know that he had the power of destroying otherworldly creatures in the blink of an eye made some deep and innate hunger blossom in the core of his stomach. The fire licked at the fiery strings in the flames and casted hellish figures on his skin. He savored this moment, for it would go away soon.

At the sudden noise of shouts, Hongjoong took one last look at the flames and took off, once again running but free from his task. It was evil, it felt evil, to ruin such a priceless artifact and to be a felon and menace, even if it was to destroy a demon.

But the feeling it gave Hongjoong ate at him like flames to kerosene. He'd never stop.

#prism.nw #ateezlovenet #ateez #hongjoong #Kim hongjoong #Hongjoong fic #ateez fic #action #adventure #supernatural #supernatural ateez #supernatural hongjoong #ateez drabble #Hongjoong drabble #ateez blurbs #Hongjoong blurbs #ateez scenario #ateez imagines #Hongjoong imagines #f: ateez #f: hongjoong #anne's writing

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.19 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has been through a lot in his short time in Backwater, but there's always the Dorothy option.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Dorothy Option’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. But they still changed and there wasn’t a damn thing Stretch could do about it. He never could.

After Red cut him loose from the shop for the day, walking across the main street to the movie theater was the same, but the breeze cutting through the sweltering heat was different. A couple days ago, Stretch would have eagerly lifted his face into it, let it dry the sweat rolling from his skull and basked in the cooling effect.

Today it was a reminder that summer was actually ending, and autumn was creeping in one slow step at a time. He’d always liked the fall season since they came to the surface, there was no such thing in the Underground. But now that he knew what was coming with the end of the harvest season, it only made him a little sad. It wouldn’t be too long until the scarecrow pole in all the fields was empty.

Stretch paused outside the theater, looking back towards the shop and past it, to the forest behind it. He was too far away to hear the rustling leaves, still green and vibrant, untouched thus far by the changing season. He could still hear it somehow, like a leftover echo, the memory of that sound loud in his head as he turned back to the theater, the constant chatter of leaves scratching inside his skull.

The sound cut off like a stopped tape recorder as the door swung shut behind him. Igor was right inside, looking a lot like an out of work funeral director in his threadbare suit. He looked up from where he was sweeping dandruffy bits of popcorn into a pile and wordlessly went behind the counter to scoop out two cartons of fresher stuff. The dilapidated marquee over the concession stand had only one title on it. ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

“weren’t you playing this flick just a couple weeks ago?” Stretch asked curiously, handing over a fiver.

“Popular movie around here,” Igor told him, tonelessly. Yeah, okay, movies about Kansas and great farming fields, and wonderous unknown worlds where danger lurked. Wasn’t hard to see how people around Backwater could form a parallel to that, hell, there was probably a shrine to Judy Garland in every house on the street, set up with offerings of corn and tiny water buckets.

He looked down at the popcorn cartons that were sitting on the counter, the smell of fresh melted butter rising, and asked abruptly, “can i get a box of raisinets, too?”

Igor nodded and took back the single bill he’d laid down, the box of candy rattling loudly as he set it on the countertop.

Stretch took it and the popcorn and headed into the theater. What was that about, he wondered. He didn’t even like raisins. Maybe he’d take them back for Red.

The theater was empty, without so much as an abandoned soda cup in the aisles and the floor still swept entirely clean. So much for people loving this movie. Stretch sat down in the far back row with his popcorn and candy to wait.

Right on schedule, the lights went low, the MGM logo came up, and then with a swell of music Kansas appeared in a grainy sepia.

He’d seen the Wizard of Oz before coming to Backwater. The first time he’d seen it, they were still in the Underground and it was hard not to make the odd mental comparisons when they came to the surface. Now that he was here in this town, Stretch related to Dorothy more than ever. A stranger in a strange land, sure, but the scarecrow sidekick was pretty damn specific. Would Edgar Allen even know what the yellow brick road was? He was pretty sure the scarecrow in his life didn’t get out of his fields much, if ever.

Never going anywhere, never really living. He sat out there in fields with corn and crows for company, guardian and prison as one. Stretch wondered if that was as sad as his mind kept trying to make it or was he putting his own pathos on an anthropomorphic personification of a scarecrow. Maybe Edgar Allen was perfectly happy with his lot in life. Hell, maybe he was looking forward to the harvest season and a chance to rest without the corn chattering to him all the time, it was possible.

Thinking that made him feel a little better about the situation and Stretch sank back into his chair and munched on another buttery handful of popcorn.

He was so absorbed in the movie that at first, he didn’t notice the seat next to him was no longer empty. A blood-streaked hand reaching towards the other carton of popcorn was his first clue and Stretch bit back a yelp, soul hammering in his ribcage as he inwardly cursed himself for being so jumpy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this before, loads of times now, it was what he bought the second carton for.

“hey, there,” Stretch said softly to his ghostly companion. “sorry it’s been a few days.”

“That’s all right,” Doris told him, her faint voice barely audible over the strains of ‘We’re off to see the Wizard.

The Tin Man was lamenting his lack of heart by the time Doris spoke again, tentatively and filled with quiet apology. “I’m very sorry, I feel as if I should know your name, but…”

Oh. Stretch closed his sockets briefly. Damn it, Red warned him about this, to not be surprised if she didn’t remember him. He didn’t allow the faint sting of hurt to show. It wasn’t her fault, it was entirely the fault of whoever had blown away part of her head and left her here to haunt a lonely, dilapidated old theater until it was time for her to go wherever ghosts did when they moved on.

Whoever it was that did this to her, stole her life and left her mostly alone in death, Stretch hoped they felt that sin clawing its way up their back long after they went to the hereafter.

“it’s okay, doris,” he said as gently as he could while Judy Garland danced across the screen, “it’s stretch, like a rubber band.”

“Yes! Stretch!” she laughed delightedly. She clapped her gloved hands together like a child. “Yes, that’s it. It was on the tip of my tongue when I saw you brought me popcorn, but I couldn’t quite shake it loose.”

No surprise there, half the time she didn’t have much tongue left.

She leaned in over her carton to take a deep, ghostly breath and twin streamers of blood ran from her nostrils. His appetite for popcorn faded and Stretch fumbled out the box of raisinets. The cheap milk chocolate barely masked the taste of the raisins and he grimaced, chewing gamely even though the texture always made him think of eating bugs. Dirt-flavored bugs in chocolate, who the hell came up with this so-called treat and were they appropriately punished for it. He could only hope.

They sat together in silence, watching the movie, and by the time the trio made it to the Emerald City, Stretch was squirming in his seat. Doris’s appearance broke the distracting spell of the movie and now his thoughts were wandering back to that morning and Edge’s sudden appearance in the store with so much worry on his pale face. Then there was that soft, unexpected kiss, so sweet against his cheekbone, a punctuation mark on the end of a silent paragraph and maybe he needed someone else to give it a read.

“doris, can i ask you something?”

She turned to him, the ruin of her head solidifying into a pretty young woman as she tilted it curiously. “Of course.”

“it’s kinda a long story.”

She folded her gloved hands primly into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

And that was her real tragedy, wasn’t it. She was tied to this crumbling old theater, unable to go where she needed to. He didn’t know what happened to ghosts once the building they were tied to was gone. But this place was on its last legs and if it closed, the cushions of empty seats rotting away and the silver screen silent, where did she go? He hoped it was someplace nice, a place where she could rest and always be beautiful, without bringing along the gory remains of her last minutes of life.

But they were working on his issues right now. “it’s about a guy.”

Doris brightened visibly and literally, going briefly more solid. “That Edge person you were speaking of before? The other skeleton.”

“yeah,” Stretch said, relieved. He hadn’t been sure how to bring up what they’d talked about before without making her feel bad for not remembering. “see, it’s like this—"

Doris sat and listened as he talked, as enthralled as she’d been when watching the movie. It was like last time when he’d came to ask her about Edgar Allen; she never flickered when she gave him the full weight of her attention.

It might be bad for the theater to have so many empty seats in the house, but it was good for people with the bad manners to talk over the movie. Stretch told her everything, didn’t hold back a thing. About meeting Edge in Red’s living room and his attempted lamp-ocide, about their impromptu lunch at Mama’s. About his brief starring role as little orange biking hood when he ventured to their cabin in the woods, about Frisk. The only thing he didn’t mention was the whole ‘me from another universe’ thing. That was a lot for even him to bend his mind around and his was still in one piece. Doris never interrupted, listened all the way to the end, until Stretch was nearly hoarse as he said, "…so what do you think?"

"Hmm. He certainly sounds charming, in a rude sort of way. My, it makes me think of Pride and Prejudice," she laughed softly. "Although your Mister Darcy showed his true nature far sooner in your tale.”

Thinking of Edge’s hips in a pair of those tight old-school trousers while he danced a waltz was not at all helping the situation and Stretch shoved that thought deep into a mental closet for later.

“but what should i do? he confuses me so much i don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt around him.” He slid down in the chair until his skull was resting on the back. “and then there’s red to think about, he’s done so much for me. he says he’s not worried about his brother, but…” Stretch trailed off and held up his empty hands.

She nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t want to stir up trouble in their family, especially since it seems they already have some rough waters.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, tiredly. He knew something about stormy weather in a sibling relationship. The last thing he wanted to do to Red and Edge was bring in rainclouds of his own.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said at last. “Tell him what you’re feeling. It seems to me he’d listen to you and he wouldn’t…” Doris’s mouth moved but her words faded. Her pretty visage changed gruesomely, a full show of her shattered face and skull, the fragile bits of bone littered across one shoulder while blood filled the ruin of her eye socket.

Stretch swallowed hard and didn’t look away, waiting until she slowly returned to appearance of a lovely young woman who was finishing triumphantly, “…and who knows what will come of it after that!”

Okay, well, half an advice was better than none and he sure wasn’t gonna ask her to repeat herself.

So. Talk to him. Right. Not bad advice, maybe a little generic, but then, Doris didn’t know about his past history when it came to relationships. She also didn’t know that Backwater wasn’t a permanent assignment for him. He wasn’t too sure about bringing that up, not when it affected her, too. Maybe it would be better to let her forget him when he was gone; with her memory, she might not even realize what she was missing aside from the occasional wistful thought about a spare carton of popcorn.

But she wasn’t wrong, either. Much as he wanted to continue skipping through his life of avoidance, there was only one way he was going to get any real answers. Maybe it was time to figure out exactly where he and Edge stood. His sense of balance in life was pretty damn shaky as it was, and Backwater seemed to treat the laws of reality as more like suggestions. Why would the laws of gravity be any different?

Plus, there was another mystery Stretch was looking to unravel and he was already working on a plan for that. He owed some gratitude to a bony skeleton dragon in the woods and Stretch wasn’t keen on owing debts.

Doris folded her hands into her lap primly. “So? What are you going to do?”

“eh,” Stretch let out a little laugh, “something stupid.”

“Oh.” Doris pursed her lips. “Is it safe?”

“nope,” Stretch said cheerfully and poured himself out another handful of chocolate pseudo-bugs. “but i’ve stayed alive so far. may as well press my luck.”

On the screen, Dorothy was repeating her most famous line and he had to agree, there was no place like home. His only problem with it was that he was starting to get a little fuzzy on where exactly that was.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

[babyybitchhhwrites]

Aizawa x Reader 18+

Title: Easy Come

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 4914 

Warnings: established relationship, 69 position, oral sex, cunnilingus, anal fingering, competitive sex 

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26674393

♥♥♥♥

Peaceful evenings at home with Shouta were the best. It was easily the highlight of your week and had been for the last year since you’d started dating. He was such a busy man that just finding the time to be together was often difficult but, somehow or another, the both of you made it work. There wasn’t a single thing in the world you’d trade this time for and you suspected he was in full agreement with that sentiment. He hadn’t come right out and said as much but he may as well have.

The tranquility in his demeanor when it was just you two was impossible to miss and such a stark difference from how he was in public that you couldn’t help wondering how many other people knew this side of him. You had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t many. Although a good man through and through, Shouta didn’t exactly have a reputation for being easy to get on friendly terms with. A tough nut to crack would likely be a good metaphor but you cherished that part of him more than you could put into words. It just made the soft spoken endearments and late night cuddles all the more meaningful. Of all the potential partners he could have chosen, he’d picked you and that had to count for something.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” 

You thought about that for a moment. “Surprise me.”

Issuing a good natured scoff, Shouta picks up the remote from the nightstand and turns on the TV. 

You could hear him clicking through multiple screens to pull up an almost endless list of movies that were available at just the touch of a finger while you finished getting ready for bed in the attached bathroom. His apartment was starting to feel more like home than yours did and a smile touches your face when you looked down at where your toothbrushes were nestled together in the same holder. That something so small and insignificant could hold so much weight still took you by surprise even now but you were slowly getting used to it. He’d been very open about wanting you to make a space for yourself once the relationship reached the point of being serious whereas you’d had plenty of lingering reservations. Past hangups and all that.

But you were both slowly moving forward together as a couple and you felt good about the future. Everything seemed to be falling into place one piece at a time, against all odds and, perhaps, your better judgement. Only time would truly tell if what you had was meant to last though and you were determined to enjoy every possible moment with him that you could.

Finishing up at the sink, you pull a fluffy headband over your forehead to keep the hair off your face before switching off the light. Shouta glances up from the TV when you step into the bedroom. You catch the corner of his mouth hitching with what could only be amusement and it lights a mischievous spark in your chest as you cross over to climb up on the bed. 

“What’s that look for?” You tease, scooting close to give him a peck on his stubbly cheek. 

“Don’t make me say it. You know what that headband does to me.” 

“Maybe that was my intention.” 

A snort of mirth rumbles out of him as he reaches over to first tweak one of the plush cat ears sticking up off the top of your head and then further back so he can pinch at a loose strand of hair. Absently curling it around his finger, Shouta turns his attention back to the glowing screen against the wall. You sigh in contentment and lean into the firm weight of his body, listening to the click-click-click coming from the TV as he scrolls through the list. You’re positive that this has to be pretty close to what heaven feels like. 

“Are you sure you don’t have any preference?” He asks at length. “Action, horror, romcom. Anything stand out?” 

Thoughtfully humming, you regard the screen in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Maybe something light?” 

“Romcom it is then.”

Your lips curl at the put upon tone in his voice, knowing full well he enjoys those kinds of movies more than he’d ever admit. He’d taken you to the theater on one of your first dates and you’d been surprised at his choice of film, initially writing it off as one made in deference to what you liked rather than what he liked. But then it kept happening, over and over again. You’d seen every romantic comedy blockbuster in the last year and then some, his inclination for that particular genre delighting you to no end. It was such an unexpected surprise but one that made perfect sense in retrospect. Shouta was a true romantic at heart even if he didn’t outwardly look it, after all. 

“How about this one?” He says, nudging his shoulder to get your attention.

“Oooh, a classic. Good choice.” You sit up and wiggle over to your pillow as he selects the title and starts it up. 

Setting aside the remote, Shouta reaches over onto the nightstand to turn off the light. The both of you settle in and get comfortable, snuggling close to each other with his arm curled over your shoulders and your cheek resting on his chest. It’s the perfect way to spend a Friday night with the promise of the weekend looming just on the horizon and, try as you might, you can’t shake the feeling of being genuinely happy. It was hard sometimes but so, so worth it at the end of the day.

You don’t make it very far into the movie before the close proximity with him overrides your wish to simply relax though. It’s near impossible to keep your mind out of the gutter when the clean, soapy smell of him is surrounding you like this, invading your nostrils and leaving a vaguely reminiscent taste of him on your tongue. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breast just under your cheek serves as a silent reminder of the densely packed muscle his lithe frame carries. With it comes the memory of how it feels to have those same muscles heaving against you, driving into your body and working you over right to the breaking point. 

The desire you harbor for Shouta had not waned at all in the last year. If anything it had only gotten stronger. Just lying next to him in bed was enough to make you want him and you squirm, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to stave off the growing heat there. But it’s no use. Your urges are simply too strong where he’s concerned and you can feel yourself starting to get wet, particularly when the steamy sex scene with the leading actress’s soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend starts up on screen. Shouta had taken you in similar fashion down in the apartment complex's laundry room late one night when you’d first started staying over for extended periods at a time and the thought alone is enough to make you ache. 

He shifts beside you the third time you start to squirm, a wave of pleasant tingles erupting across your skin when he tightens his hold around your shoulders and pins you against his side. He’s strong enough to crush you in his arms if he felt so inclined and it makes your breath come a little faster. A little harder. The notion of letting this scratch go unitched doesn’t even cross your mind as you grasp at the plain black t-shirt he’d put on for bed, tilting your pelvis forward to discreetly grind into his thigh. You had to have him.

“Don’t tell me this is getting you riled up, kitten.” Shouta murmurs, the reverberation from his deep voice making your head feel like it’s vibrating. “If you’d wanted something a bit more explicit, all you had to do was say so.”

“No … this is fine.” You quietly assure him. The somewhat breathless quality of your words makes a shudder race up your spine and you arch, stretching your legs out to wind them around his. If you could get any closer you’d be on top of him by now and you can’t quite convince yourself that it would be such a bad thing. 

Noising a muted sound of agreement, Shouta obligingly angles his body away from the TV and towards you. The rough pads of his calloused fingers give you a brief squeeze before tracing lazy circles into the meat of your upper arm. You tilt your head back to peer into his face, a mere hair's breadth from yours, and for a small eternity it's as if you’re simply passing the same oxygen back and forth. Every exhale feeds into the next inhale, his breath mingling with yours until you can’t be sure who's is whose anymore. Then, finally, he closes the distance. 

His lips are slightly dry against yours, they always are, but it’s nothing a quick swipe of his tongue won’t fix. The second kiss is more demanding than the last and you all but melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him the access he seeks. A needy moan tries to claw its way up your throat when he slips into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth for a taste only to pull out a regretfully short moment later. You try to follow him, eager to give yourself over, but Shouta’s attention drops to the spot between you two instead.

“What’s got you so worked up tonight?” He brings the arm that’s not wrapped around you forward, giving your breast an idle squeeze through the thin cotton of your shirt, and you keen.

“You. It’s always you.”

“Is that so?” He says with a mirthful snort. Adjusting his hand, Shouta brushes his thumb over the pebbling peak of your nipple in taunting slow motion until you whine. “Am I really that good or am I just lucky? What do you think, kitten?”

“Both.” You croak, jutting your chest towards him for better access. “I love what you do to me and that makes you lucky.” 

“Can’t argue that.”

A genuine smile graces his face, highlighted by the glow from the TV. You’ve completely forgotten about the movie by now, its low chatter mere background noise as you focus in on Shouta and how he makes you feel. His hooded gaze is still locked on your chest and you watch with bated breath when he delicately takes your nipple between his fingers, rolling the bud to stiff attention. The resulting friction makes your pussy clench and tingling warmth spreads throughout your body to set every nerve ending on fire. You draw a slow breath to try and ground yourself. It doesn’t work but, to be fair, you hadn’t really expected it to. 

Shouta looks up at the sound though and you exchange a long look with one another. Keeping his eyes on your face, he pulls at your top until it's bunched under your chin and your nipples immediately start to pucker in the open air. Moaning softly, you watch as he dips his head to catch one of the meaty nubs in his mouth and suckle. He starts off slow and gentle but gradually increases the suction he’s applying until you finally gasp and writhe against him. 

He comes up off your tit with a dull pop. The quiet breath he lets out fans across spit lathered skin, making your nipple pucker all over again and even stiffer than before. You seeth and blindly reach behind him to worm your hand into his dark plaid boxers. Pausing long enough to give his ass an encouraging squeeze, digging your nails in for good measure, you work your way towards the front of his body so you can grasp the half hard length between his legs. Wiry pubic hair tickles your knuckles as you subduedly pump at him, teasing him to full arousal while he idly flicks at your nipple with his index finger. Despite the thrumming arousal pumping through your system, it seems neither of you is in a hurry to rush this and you can’t say you have any complaints about that.

“Was it the sex scene in the laundry room?” He husks after a long moment. 

“It certainly didn’t help.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should revisit that later. You might have an unrealized kink for having your pussy ate on top of a washing machine, sweetheart.” 

You outright laugh at that. “ I think I just like having you go down on me period. The setting doesn’t really matter.”

Issuing a low, rumbling growl, Shouta drops his arm to worm his fingers between your pliant thighs and possessively cup your pussy in his hand. “Is that what you want? Want me to eat you out until you’re screaming and begging me to stop?” 

Your breath hitches with a little gasp. “God, yes …”

He takes a moment to grind the heel of his palm into the apex of your slit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you desperate for more. Then, too quick for you to react, he rolls over onto his back and drags you on top of him so that you’re half sprawled out across his chest. Your pulse jumps at suddenly finding yourself nose to nose and you brace your palms on his firm pecs, intending to give him some breathing room. Shouta is fast though, much faster than you, and he brings his hands up to catch your cheeks before you can retreat. He pulls you into another deep kiss, the stubble on his chin abrasively scratching your skin in the process. You shudder at the dominant gesture, feeling your cunt gush more sticky slick to coat your labia as you moan wantonly into his mouth. His ability to drive you wild was as profound as it was unfair. You’d have to make sure to pay him back for this later.

“Turn around.” He grunts upon pulling back just enough to speak. “And pants off.” 

A sharp swat to your ass has you practically vibrating with eager excitement as you carefully stand up on the bed and start shimmying your sleep shorts down your hips. Shouta watches you with nothing short of barefaced interest, his hands coming up to caress the soft skin of your legs where they’re bracketing his ribs. One foot at a time, you cautiously step out of your bottoms and toss them over the edge of the bed before turning to face the TV. You glance back over your shoulder with a sly grin, giving your behind a taunting little shake. 

“Like this?”

He snorts. “Come here before I decide to punish you, kitten. You already know exactly how unpleasant I can make this for you.” 

Your pussy tightens at the playful threat which ultimately only succeeds in exciting you all the more. You’d rather not endure another one of Shouta’s infamous edging sessions though and you lower yourself down onto your knees, fighting back the anxious flutter in the pit of your gut that always accompanies this particular position. No matter how many times you do it, shoving your ass in your boyfriend's face will probably never not be an awkward experience. 

It’s clear as day that Shouta doesn’t mind it one bit though and he loops his arms under your thighs so he can take your waist in hand and guide you into place. The fact he actually pulls you closer doesn’t come as a surprise and you wait with bated breath for him to deem your positioning satisfactory. You start slightly just a moment later at the tickle of his coarse hair on your inner thigh, unable to shake the feeling that he’s nose deep in your pussy like this. It’s a bit embarrassing but somehow thrilling at the same time. A real conundrum.

“There.” He says at last, stilling behind you, and you shudder at the sensation of his breath on your skin. “Remember what you asked for, kitten. I won’t stop until you’re screaming.”

“You would’ve done that anyway, whether I’d asked for it or not …”

He chuckles faintly in response. “That’s true.” 

You start to smile, that undeniable spark of genuine happiness making itself known again. But then you feel him lean close and your mouth warbles, dropping open with a silent groan instead as you brace for the first expert stroke of Shouta’s tongue. It doesn’t come right away though and he takes his time merely nuzzling into you, placing wayward kisses along your puffy slit and taking deep breaths of your scent. A slow moving tremor works its way up your spine, causing you to shake and clench your pussy in anticipation. The suspense alone was enough to make you start begging.

But Shouta knows exactly how to tease you to vibrating fever pitch and giving him any more ammunition to work with would just be inviting one of his drawn out games so you stay silent, biting down on your lip when you can feel the word ‘please’ bubbling to life inside your throat. He’s as aware of the underlying tension as you are and he grunts against your cunt. Dragging his palms up the backs of your thighs, he reaches up to squeeze the doughy soft flesh of your ass and spread your cheeks apart, baring you fully to the room. You whimper, unable to hold back such an instinctive sound when you’re totally exposed like this, and Shouta’s lips curl against your labia. 

Apparently pleased with that, he presses his lips to the center of your slit and kisses you. The ministrations of his mouth are hungry and demanding, the friction of his facial hair against your petal soft folds leaving a burning trail in its wake while he works you open. You sway slightly on your knees, eyes slipping shut as you bask the sensation. 

His tongue emerges a brief moment later and you give your hips an encouraging wiggle when it slips and slides through your wet cunt lips in search of your entrance. He takes his time just circling the rim, lapping up the accumulated slick and swallowing the taste of you before delving in deeper. Your muscles contract at the slimy intrusion, fluttering in delight, and you teeter forward to brace your hands on his sharp hip bones so that you can better present yourself to him. A rumbling groan rises up behind you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy, and you twitch in pleasure. 

“Mmm … that feels good, Shouta. Do you like how I taste that much?” 

You receive an incoherent grumble in response and it makes you smile. 

Cracking your eyes open, you glance down at the straining tent in his boxers. Knowing you could never leave him hanging like that, you lift your hand to tug at the cotton. Inch by excruciating inch, you push it lower until his hard cock pops up into the air with an enthusiastic bounce. He tenses underneath you, just enough for you to notice, and you tuck the elastic waistband under his balls before taking him in hand. A slow pump is all you reward him with at first but then, as if sensing your intentions, he withdraws his tongue from your body in favor of licking his way down to your clit. Your grip on him eagerly tightens and you rear back, grinding your pussy on his face. 

The resulting grunt of pleasure goes straight to your head and you do it again. Dragging your cunt across his mouth and no doubt smearing your arousal on his skin, you give Shouta’s cock another tug that makes the foreskin bunch at the tip. He issues a rumbled warning and pulls back just enough to speak.

“Watch yourself, kitten. We can still do this the hard way.”

With that ominous reminder, he dives back in. Shoving his face so deep into your cunt that it's a wonder he doesn’t suffocate, Shouta works the meat of your labia open again and his tongue darts out to lash at your clit. You go ramrod stiff on top of him, twitching and shaking like a leaf at the sharp starbursts of pleasure that shoot through your nerves. It’s enough to make you freeze up, so overwhelmed by the sensation that you almost overlook the very obvious challenge he’s presented you with. 

You’ve played this particular game with him more times than you could count though and, through sheer force of will alone, you start to pump him in earnest now. It takes a staggering amount of concerted effort to do it but if it's another round of who-can-successfully-distract-who he was looking for then that’s what he’d get. 

Lowering yourself so that you can lie down on top of him, you angle Shouta’s cock towards your mouth and seal your lips around the head. Your free hand travels further south, curling around and cupping his balls so that you can massage them. He was particularly sensitive in this area and, just as expected, the muscles in his legs jump at the first gentle squeeze. You feel real proud of yourself for all of five seconds before he retaliates by closing his mouth on your clit and sucking. Hard.

You come up off his dick with a half strangled squeal, futilely trying to squeeze your thighs together and shut him out. It’s a losing battle though and Shouta merely tightens his elbows around your hips so that he can hold you in place no matter how much you squirm. A shock of static electricity zaps up your spine and you arch so hard that something in your lower back pops. The damp presence of reflexive tears wetting your lash line manages to ground you somewhat and, with a haggard gulp of air, you take his stiff cock into your mouth again. 

Swallowing him as far as you can in this position, you start bobbing your head and laving the underside of him with your tongue while your hand pumps at the base where you can’t quite reach. He lets up on your clit long enough to groan appreciatively and flex his hips off the bed to meet you halfway. Bending his knobby knees towards the ceiling to accommodate the awkward angle, Shouta begins thrusting into your mouth enthusiastically enough to make his balls bounce and a tinge of victory lights up inside your chest.  

It’s regretfully short lived though and you stiffen when his fingers abruptly find your slit. He wastes no time pushing one inside, giving the searching digit a taunting wiggle for good measure, and you moan around his cock. The sudden pressure on your upper wall has you clenching around him as the tension in your gut doubles and then triples. You know it's only a matter of moments until you reach the breaking point if he keeps that up but, much to your surprise, he pulls out after a prolonged beat. 

Confusion curls at the back of your mind but he’s still fucking your mouth and you can’t think straight. The drool spilling out around his cock and running down your chin is particularly distracting. All you can seem to do is wordlessly noise your bewilderment and dig your nails into his flexing hip, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say.

You get your answer soon enough in the form of that same finger, sticky with arousal, finding the pucker of your asshole. Squawking wetly in surprise, you jerk against him but Shouta hold’s fast. With one hand pulling your cheek to the side, the other applies just the right amount of pressure at the center of your entrance to sink inside your body. You freeze, feeling the muscles clench and flutter around the intrusion, but this is not the first time you’ve had your ass penetrated and it offers only a cursory amount of resistance. Your eyes start to water again, rolling towards the back of your head, and Shouta stills underneath you with his dick rammed as deep into your mouth as he can reach. 

A small eternity seems to pass and then you feel the ring of muscle give way. Once the first joint makes it through, the rest follow suit easily enough and Shouta wiggles his finger into you straight down to the knuckle. You groan in perverse pleasure, rocking forward on your knees, but the only place you can go is further down on his cock. You’re thoroughly trapped between two equally unrelenting forces like this and you can’t quite shake the impression of being a spit roasted pig. Damn him. What a devious bastard.

“That seems to have gotten your attention.” He groans, very softly, and the sensation of his lips brushing against your cunt makes you jolt. Allowing himself a strained chuckle at your expense, Shouta nuzzles into you again and your body responds with a warning tremor that he doesn’t miss. “Maybe I should start using your ass more often. You seem to like it.”

You gurgle noisily in response, struggling to swallow around the girth shoved in your mouth. 

He seems to take that as an agreement and tilts his head, slowly dragging the flat of his tongue across your throbbing clit. You shake so hard that your eyes rattle about inside their sockets but there’s nothing you can do to turn the tables now. He’s got you completely at his mercy and he was just as aware of that as you were. 

With his finger plugging your ass, Shouta takes a leisurely pace to eating you out and it very nearly drives you insane. It quickly becomes apparent that he intends to drag this out for as long as possible, which he was adept at even under the best of circumstances but it was particularly torturous in this case. Your clenching muscles gave you away and any time he felt you starting to tighten around him, he’d merely shift his attention to kissing the outer portion of your pussy until the tension began to fade. You were toeing the line of release for such an extended period of time that it actually started to hurt and you whine around him, trying to pull yourself up off his cock. He wouldn’t permit that either though and merely tightened his arms around you or jutted his pelvis up higher as needed. It was maddening in the best possible way. 

It seemed as if hours had gone by in this fashion before he finally spoke up again. “Are you ready to cum, kitten?” 

“Rrmmhrm.” 

“Are you going to scream for me?” 

“Rrmh!” You jerkily nod your head, fingers fisting in the sheets. 

“You’ll have to try hard if you want me to hear it while you have my cock in your mouth.” 

Groaning, you weakly jut your pelvis back against his face, urging him to finish you already. Shouta quietly chuckles, sounding more like a moan than a genuine laugh. 

He tilts his head then, slotting his mouth over your clit, and you let out a muffled wail when his tongue drags across the swollen nub with real intent this time. Every inch of your body shakes in rapidly mounting tension, the sheer force of it almost too much to bear. He holds you tight as you quake on top of him though, your chest heaving frantically against his stomach, but he won’t let up this time. Now he wants you to cum and you’re entirely helpless to stop it even if you’d wanted to. It takes everything you have to keep breathing through your nose as starbursts erupt across your vision and, before you even realize it’s happening, you tip over the edge. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you wail around his cock. A fresh wave of drool dribbles out of your mouth as you struggle to keep your jaw open while you ride out the cresting waves of ecstasy, realizing in some far off, dreamy way that the ball gag training was really paying off now. It’s a hysterical thought to have when your mind and body were being overwhelmed with a flood of dopamine but you don’t even have the wherewithal to find it funny. You were soaring on cloud nine, somewhere far above the physical constraints of your body, and you’re only vaguely aware of your asshole sporadically squeezing his finger when you start to come back some moments later. It was the sort of transcendental orgasm you’d only ever experienced with Shouta. 

You were positive that no one else could ever hope to take you to such dizzying heights as this and you go limp on top of him with a frazzled sigh.

After a long beat, when he’s sure you’ve milked your release for all its worth, he slowly eases his hips back down to the bed. You gratefully spit his cock out, watching it bob and glisten wetly in the dim light from the TV while you try to steady your breathing. He gives you another moment or two before idly tapping his fingers against the meat of your ass. 

“That didn’t exactly sound like screaming to me, kitten.” He says quietly, the sly note in his voice not escaping your notice. “I think we might have to give that another go.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #hero academia #boku no hero academia #self insert bullshit #my writing

[swampythesweetsketch]

 Fun idea I had this morning but I want to share with you guys for fun.

NSR GUARDIAN ANIMAL AU

Gist of AU is that someone/something is born with a tiny, magical animal that accompanies them.

Think Golden Compass but everything gets a animal, and the animals also act as magical instruments.

Imma call these creatures "Notels".

Qwasa energy is the lifeblood of these creatures, of which means the world is rampant with energy. Drawback is that the city's blackouts are caused by a lack of artists openly preforming for the energy to freely flow.(Unknown to NSR)

NSR are the major power to Vinyl City due to their rare instance of multiple/being bigger than average Notels.

Buildings have Notels that act as protector to their home (confined to that one space). They stay until the home is demolished, they will continue to exist to supply their home(s) with energy until they are exhausted of all musical resources.

Security bots have their own Notels, but the animals are smaller, chibi versions that focus their energy on keeping their mechanical holders charged at all times. They can hop onto other bots if their initial bot is destroyed in combat and will scurry off to new energy sources if there is no other bots around.

Human(oid) figures have more normal sized Notels that turn into various instruments that match up to their talents. They can also turn into other objects, but Notels are more music focused.

Non-music Notels are often referred as Nolls.

TIME TO HOP TO THE CAST AND PLOT

Bunk Bed Junction!

The two are still a band, but their sewers becomes a underground cavern that has old scriptures that depicts the more open, free flowing energy of Notels. They wish to join NSR in hopes of opening up the freedom of performance to other artists.

Pretty much like the OG B2J, but their focus is changed a bit to help Notels become stronger beings to help Vinyl City climb out of the black outs.

As Vinyl City keeps getting the blackouts and music tastes have all become selective, many Notels have started disappearing due to their respective genres starting to die out in the EDM dominate city.

Mayday's Notel is a rat! A smart creature that came to her in early age, it turns into her guitar. It stays perched in her hair and loves the food from Aunty, as to why B2J are regulars.

Aunty's Noll is a octopus, that turns its tentacles into various cooking utensils. I thought you might like to know.

Zuke's Notel ia Ellie! The little alligator uses their back scales as Zuke's drums and fangs as drumsticks! Ellie is still an integral support character as she and Zukes share the only braincell in the group.

Kill, who pops in after DJSS, has a armadillo Noll that turns into his phone.

First Artist, DJ Subatomic Supernova.

The first NSR artist they face off against is DJ Subatomic Supernova. His Notel is a dog, a nod to Laika, the first animal to ever orbit the Earth.

The Notel is made of pure Qwasa, with rings around its tail that turn into the scratch discs DJSS uses with a custom turntable. These rings will always burn up and become compact Qwasa stars that fizzle out over time. These stars are the main energy source for Club Planetarium.

The dog is massive, about the same size as DJSS. It's breed is best described as a greyhound.

Second Artist, Sayu.

She herself is a Notel!!! Kura Kura Stream Hun was once a interactive hologram theater that fell under, and Sayu was once a little fish Notel that swam around the building. When the place went under, she was alone for years.

It wasn't until the new NSR kids found Sayu and evolved their idea of reviving their old favorite building into a giant aquarium for Sayu to preform. And in debut of her inclusion to the NSR artists, Sayu evolved into the mermaid you see today!

The kiddos do have their own Notels that work as the aquatic buddies to Sayu!

Tila writes Sayu's lyrics and the beta singer of all the mermaid's song. She's the only one in the four creators that has a Notel. That is a vibrant green-red beta fish that turns into a small microphone for Tila to sing into.

Remi is the artist of the group, his Noll is a sunfish that uses its body as a drawing surface. When drawn on with a new design, it will swim around Sayu and act as a "magical transformation" of sorts.

Dodo is the choreographer for Sayu, teaching her the moves for her shows. His Nolls are mossballs. Tiny little things that act as the tail in Dodo's routines to help Sayu understand the whole of her dancing!

Sofa, the editor, has eel nolls that work in the background with him to navigate the theater and control lighting and setting for Sayu's preformance. He's the one with the strongest Nolls as their energy helps fluctuate the surroundings.

Third Artist, Yinu!

Her district is unique as she is a classical prodigy that seems to be the only other genre kept actively alive in Vinyl City.

Her Notel is a gosling, who uses their feathers as piano keys. The keys break apart over time as Yinu and her Notel are not fully grown, so she does most of her preformances with a physical piano until then.

Her mother's Noll is a spider, who uses their webs to create iron bars to trap B2J.

During Yinu's last stand in battle, her piano is broken already, so she and her Notel work together. But her Notel is near exhausted of feathers and has to stop when B2J reach her. They stay to help Yinu calm down and wait for her mother to shrink back down. They leave when the mother and daughter play the broken piano, helping Yinu's Notel regain energy.

Fourth Artist, 1010!

Neon J has a Moose Noll. I’m not sorry. It shrunk a bit since he became a cyborg to help charge his body. Back then it had to rely on tricking Neon J to sleep with soft lullabies to tune out the war going on, but now it can choose to stop feeding him its energy to force him to sleep.

White/Rin has a tiny wolf Notel that turns into a long microphone stand, he uses it for solos. Other than that, its a little wolf puppy that chases Rin around to keep him charged.

Red/Zimelu has a cockatiel Notel that turns into a microphone/drumstick combo. A single long, thin stick that Zim can sing into to generate a flat disc that sharpens into a circular saw, the handle acting as... the handle. 

The cockatiel loves perching on his arm and nibble his ascot.

Yellow/Haym has a rabbit Noll! It has a reaaaalllyy fluffy tail that pop off into pompoms! Haym loves using them to boost the moral of his team! When not in use, it lays in the faux ascot of Haym’s- he really had a hoodie hood for his rabbit to stay in!

Blue/Purl-Hew has a Snake Noll that extends it’s tail into a thread-thin whip. He uses it to grab his teammates out of danger. The snake loops around his neck and has constant yawns since Purl-Hew doesn’t exert a lot of energy outside of work.

Green/Eloni has a Cat Notel! It turns itself into cat ears headphones with a little microphones. When not doing anything else, it lops in the circle on Eloni’s head and cat naps there. He has trouble keeping his head straight sometimes, but he can never remove his precious chunk. 💚

When B2J crash their party, Mayday is terrified of Eloni’s cat and Purl-Hew’s snake cause she thinks they might eat her rat (Who she has gone to call Chebbar. Like Cheddar, but with a B).

When 1010 are nearly destroyed, all the Notels/Nells freak out in hopes of repairing their respective boys, but this only makes things work as they are what cause 1010 to ultimately explode.

When Neon J comes to the scene- atop 1010 limousine. No matter where I fight whether near or far- I bleed in the name of NSR-

When Neon J comes to the scene, he and his MEGA MOOSE NOLL (who turns into a rapier with many disfigured blades that hut out like antlers.

The Mother Machine that keeps spawning 1010′s new bodies has its own Noll that is respectively a doe. All of 1010′s Notels/Nolls rush to their protection. Moose dad and Deer mom are PISSED.

All the Notels and Nolls cling to their beaten owners after the fight, the doe keeps close to Neon J when the Mother Machine is destroyed.

Fourth Artist, Eve.

Eve has two Nolls, peacocks that are pink and white respectively. They turn into her masks or Humor and Tragedy.

When one is used, the other uses its feathers to construct large arms and hands that chase B2J around. When they swap, all hands and arms melt into puddles that can still cause damage if stepped in. They evaporate after a little bit.

The peacocks steal Eve and try to run into the white void when she’s defeated, pecking Zuke when he catches up to them and talks to Eve. They eventually deescalates the tension and pet them while they talk.

They follow B2J outside the studio in order to combine their feathers into a key that unlocks the gate to NSR tower.

Final Artist, Tatiana.

Tatiana has a Noll, a steel gray hummingbird. It looks dead a majority of the time. It may look rejuvenated one second, but the next it will look drained of all life. Tatiana refuses to acknowledge her Noll’s problem.

When B2J encounters Tatiana, they battle with their music which seems to revive the Noll. That catches Mayday’s attention.

Mayday goes in to shame Tatiana for neglecting her Noll’s need for Rock, revealing B2J’s motive for auditioning in the first place. 

To save the Notals, dying form the lack of their genre being played and oppressing artists that don’t fall in line of EDM.

Tatiana is caught off guard by the revelation, but listening to Mayday’s complaint, she turns her Noll into the clock hand blades she battles with. Using the rock music played by B2J to fuel her Noll’s power.

Mayday and Zuke are forced to drop their Rock solo and battle with EDM mixed with their tunes. The combination boosting their power enough to  overcome Tatiana ‘s attack.

As the battle concludes, the clock tower releases Tatiana’s guitar, who reveals to a phoenix Notel that has been supplying the tower with the majority of its power since Tatiana abandoned her old persona, Kul Fyra.

Kliff comes into the scene, and using Tatiana’s weakened Notel and Noll against her, takes control of them to grab the last bit of power from NSR.

All the defeated artists call in to see Tatiana, beaten. It is there that everyone is then told how the lack of genres have been killing off the Notels and causing the blackouts. But Tatiana refuses the idea... then her Noll collapses. 

Mayday and Zuke rush to the Noll’s aid and play their music for the poor thing. Kliff chews Tatiana out for not seeing the obvious. He misses the hypocrisy in his speech, as he only idolizes Rock as the definitive music genre of Vinyl City.

During their fight, Kliff uses his Noll to control the tower’s system and the satellite starts to fall.

The finale continues as normal, the districts are returned to their respective Artists, and Tatiana puts the call out for artists of all genres to come to the Grand Qwasa to preform like never before.

Kliff, seeing a error in his ways a little too late, gives back Tatiana’s Notels and leaves his own Noll behind with her.

Lyrics screamed, horns blasted, drums punctured, string snapped.

The blow of musical energy surges the Grand Qwasa as the whole city glows in a light long missed as every single artist plays their heart out. 

But it works, the tower transforms with the help of its Noll (a metronome) and flings the satellite back into orbit.

Mayday is given Tatiana’s offer to join NSR and refuses, and instead is gifted her Notel.

Tatiana’s Noll is fully revived and reveals to be another phoenix, still steel gray but it’s body burning brighter than ever before.

The announcement is made to restructure NSR, and in so, Vinyl City is opened alive once more to revived and brand new Notels.

ANNNNNNNNDDDD that’s the end! Thanks for reading my rambling of a AU that doesn’t change a lot but was fun to make! 

Byyyeeeeeee!!!!!!!

#nsr #No Straight Roads #AU #Notels and Nolls

[shintorikhazumi]

Sleeping Beau-

A/N: Happy Birthday Leoooooooo

I KNOW I’M OVER A MONTH LATE I’M SORRY ;-;

MAKING IT A TWO(?)-SHOT SO THAT CONGRATS ON YOUR GRADES TOO YEY! (Also because It was getting too damn long)

k. that’s all from me. Sorry for the meh quality and sorry in advance for all the mistakes and plotholes. I’m getting rusty. Forgotten how to write.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

[Okay, how about a Mayakuro "remake" of seeping beauty? Where Claudine is all like "Tendo Maya give me that sword, I can do this shit myself" and wasn't in a coma like sleep but that it was just a rumour or something. ...she'd be so confused for a minute, no one told her that the princess would have that much of an attitude.]- Was the request, hihi.

“Sleeping Beau-”

“A princess... in a tower, oh so far away from me. This dear princess, deep in slumber, oh how much I long to see...”

“... Is this because you want to use her as reference for your new play?” A certain brunette mumbled through a mouthful of food she’d managed to smuggle in while on duty.

“Dame Aijo... It’s not like that.”

“I thought I heard you ask that vendor girl earlier for the location because you had plans to visit.”

“Shut up, Karen!” The bespectacled playwright frowned, scribbling down her latest line. “And how do you even know about that?” Junna narrowed her eyes at the knight who merely shrugged. Junna clicked her tongue, turning back to her sheets of paper. “I’m just a little curious, is all!” She defended, mumbling incoherent complaints to herself.

“But Miss Junna, the last time you used actual people as references for your script, you got scolded by Hikari.” Karen reminded, resting her head in her palm as she watched Junna jot down more lines, more notes for her newest work.

“Th-that was only because she didn’t like how I stared at you or Mahiru for too long! I couldn’t help it! I have to study my subjects intently to fully grasp their characters and way of life, and embody-” She was going off on a tangent, and Karen couldn’t help but giggle.

“So you are thinking of her as a reference.” Karen grinned smugly.

“Karen!”

“Now, now. What’s all the fuss about?” A voice called from the other side of the room, catching the occupant’s attention. The pair froze in place, minds registering the identity of the newcomer.

“Your highness!” Junna greeted first, immediately straightening up as she and Karen offered their respects in deep bows to the tall figure, regal and proud, stood at the doorway of the study.

The Royal Princess, Tendou Maya, in her full glory, sauntered into the room, not forgetting to shut the door behind her, before taking a seat on Junna’s desk- much to the latter’s chagrin- and immediately destroyed her image of poise and elegance as she hid behind closed doors.

“Finally.” Maya sighed, gazing out at Junna’s balcony, seeing the bright blue sky and the rustles of trees as the wind’s whistling was heard through open windows. “I thought they’d never end.” She huffed, jumping back onto her feet as she walked about the room.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” Junna addressed their new companion once more, surprised at the sudden visit. Usually Maya would inform her beforehand if she was planning on dropping by. “Did you run away from more noble meetings?”

Maya smiled at her in an amused manner that had Junna feeling a little irritated. “Can’t a student come see her Tutor at any given time should she have any queries in mind?” Maya asked sweetly, picking up a random book from a nearby shelf and flipping through its pages.

Junna stared, trying to read the woman’s expression and actions. She couldn’t. Groaning, Junna replied, “First of all, you are no longer my student. You’ve learned all you’ve needed to from me, finished all your course work two years ago. Secondly, do you even have anything to ask that I can answer that you don’t already know?”

Maya kept smiling at her mysteriously. “How are you?- is a valid question that you can answer and I don’t already know?”

“Don’t be cheeky, Your highness.” Junna rolled her eyes, getting back to her script on her desk.

“My, the genius scholar, the Kingdom’s royal tutor, can’t answer one of the simplest questions?” Maya faux-gasped. “Whatever shall we do? Find a new one?” She continued to tease.

Junna frowned, feeling a headache coming on. “Maya, you really don’t want me to dive into a long discussion on how that question could actually be one of the most difficult to answer.”

As if to remind the pair of her presence, Karen agreed enthusiastically, nodding her head at the same time. “You wouldn’t want to get bored, your highness. One time, Miss Junna tried to explain to me why I could buy five sacks of rice in the next town over for the price of only three in the capital, and I still don’t get it.” She chuckled sheepishly, scratching her head in confusion.

“Um, Dame Aijo, that’s a little different. You might be somewhat slow-”

“Oh, how interesting!” Maya clapped, playing along with Karen. Turning to Junna who had just flinched, she directed another question. “How can that be, teacher?” She asked innocently.

Junna grimaced, really not up to the task of having to play Maya’s little games today. Regaining her composure, Junna cleared her throat. “Okay, for what purpose have you actually come to see me, Princess?” She asked, hoping for a reasonable answer.

“To see my good old friend and catch up on life?” Maya tried.

Junna deadpanned. “Like hell that’s true. You haven’t visited me in three months. Each time you’ve visited before that, it was to either ask me to hide you from marriage interviews, sneak into a play, escape whatever duties you found tedious, or snack on baumkuchen secretly with Karen over here.”

“Baumkuchen is good for the soul.”

“Not for your figure.” Though she said that, Junna frowned as she remembered the time she was chewed out by the etiquette tutor for allowing Maya to eat ‘junk’ outside of mealtime; allowed her to eat more than her designated and controlled portions.

Despite knowing how nobles liked to keep up appearances, Junna hardly found it necessary to impose such a diet on the princess with how active she was anyway. Also, as someone with lists and lists of responsibilities to cater throughout the day, she worried if it was even enough, what they fed the poor girl.

What if she simply collapsed one day?

“You don’t mean that.” Maya smirked at her, propping up her face in her hands on Junna’s desk.

Junna’s frown deepened. A splash of color appeared on her face that she quickly hid behind her manuscript. “I suppose not.” She admitted quietly.

Maya laughed freely, stepping back to allow her friend some breathing room. She went over to Karen to strike up some more amusing conversation maybe.

“So what kind of whimsical fairy tale has Miss Junna tried to string together this time?” She asked Karen.

Junna choked on air as she turned to glare at the cause of her stress today. “Why would you like to know?”

If the princess claimed she wanted to take part in another one of her productions, Junna would have to discourage her from doing so. She used to be pleased to have Maya on board, sometimes even pleading her because of her talent and potential for the stage- she was very clearly loved by its goddess. However, Junna had quickly learned that a Royal should not be placed under that kind of spotlight.

They were already on a high enough pedestal that was better tailored to people of their caliber; worlds and worlds beyond even the most talented actors, the brightest stars.

When His Majesty’s second wife,  the queen consort, had heard of these activities, she had hounded Junna, and her fiance Nana- the director and owner of the theater- to cease any production that would ‘taint’ the Royal Princess’s image and only serve as distraction from her duties that were of greater significance.

Such as trying to succeed the throne.

It wasn’t only for her sake that she had to turn Maya away from the stage that called to her like a siren from the sea. It would be better for that sailor to keep away and stay alive all together. After all, mermaids were temptingly beautiful, but they devoured the life of those drawn to them.

So would it be for Tendou Maya.

“There’s just been this rumor circling about, princess.” Junna heard Karen begin, looking over at the pair who shared amicable smiles as they conversed.

Should she halt this topic?

“And this rumor is...?”

“Oh, just how there’s this weird, abandoned, palace-like thingy in the forest just by the border to that terrible west kingdom.”

Junna watched as Maya seemed to perk up, not liking the interest that was apparent on her face.

“They say there’s a princess there!”

“My! A princess!”

“They said she’s been sleeping there for a while!” Karen continued to share without much thought, Maya nodding enthusiastically and clinging onto every word. An action Junna did not like. “And that she’ll never wake up. Poor princess. Can’t they bring her to a clinic or something?”

“Ohoh? I suppose that would be the usual course of action.” Maya replied, going along with Karen’s storytelling. “What else do you know?” Maya asked, hoping to fish out some more information, no doubt.

Junna had to stop her already burning hunger from getting even bigger.

“Nothing else that you should hear of.” She cut the conversation off with a tap of her pen. “Anyway, it’s all just a rumor.” Junna stated. “It’s not as though there is proof of an actual structure suddenly being there in the western forests, nor is there any certainty about a princess residing in deep slumber there.”

Maya flashed her an evil grin, walking over to her table again, standing right in front of her once more.

“But there isn’t any proof that it doesn’t exist either, right?” She whispered to Junna with a glint in her eyes that only spelled trouble.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, Maya. The kingdom will absolutely have my head if they learn that I’ve somehow placed ideas in yours.” She sighed, rolling up her papers and smacking Maya on the head lightly. The princess simply laughed in amusement.

“Worry not, my good friend. I’ve taken your kind words into consideration.”

Junna stared at her, still skeptical. Knowing Maya, ‘consideration’ was just that. Consideration. And, most likely, Maya was considering going against Junna’s warning.

Really, she could only hope for the best, and pray that Maya wouldn’t do whatever her pretty little head had clearly already planned.

‘No, no.’ Junna shook her head. She should trust Maya. She was an adult, responsible, and a royal. She knew her duties, and she knew what was right. Maya was an intelligent woman. She wouldn’t just thoughtlessly go out in search of the existence of some baseless tale. Yes. Junna shouldn’t have anything to worry about.

She looked over at the princess still casually conversing with Karen, all cheers and smiles coming from the pair. The knight continued to entertain Maya with more and more trivial details regarding the stories of that hidden castle in the woods, and the shine in Maya’s eyes that Junna usually associated with her excitement and craving for adventure only became brighter and brighter.

This was worrisome.

Junna bit her lip, anxiety growing more and more as she tried to convince herself that everything would be just fine.

Okay, okay. Even if Maya would, hypothetically, try to go off in search of this ‘mystery princess’, there were many guards posted about the castle anyway.

She couldn’t escape and do anything, right?

No, in the first place, she wouldn’t do anything. Right?

Right?

//-//-//-//-//

She shouldn’t be doing this. She knows it deep down.

Should her parents catch wind of her plans, she could either be disowned or forever locked away in her own tower.

Regardless, these threats of consequence could not hope to quell her hungered curiosity. Maya couldn’t sit still after hearing such a tale- an adventure outside the walls of the palace. One that was much like the stories she had only ‘played’ thus far.

This time, it was real.

And so did the princess sneak out into the dead of the night.

“Come now, Samson.” A lone horse’s whinny shook the silent air, Maya feeling her heart pound at the thrill of game she had begun to play. A game of life. “Shhhh. Be silent, my boy. We must be discreet.” She whispered, stroking the silky mane of her stallion, hoping it would soothe him.

It seemed to have worked and Maya sighed in temporary relief.

Looking ahead into the darkness of the courtyard, she surveyed the area ahead in attempts to check for any possible dangers. Finding none, she took one final look behind her to ensure that she was not being followed.

Good. The coast was clear.

Addressing her loyal companion, Maya took the reins and commanded forward. “Shall we?” She smiled as she got a little huff. “Hyah!” She exclaimed, loud enough only for their ears to pick up.

She cantered Samson over the currently-empty courtyard, out the back, having known a secret pathway through the castle gardens to get onto the streets without passing the main gate where guards were usually posted, and rarely left.

She should really advise their knights on how to better their security. People could get in through places besides the gate.

...or people could sneak out.

She could.

But maybe... not now.

Stepping onto the cobblestone pavement, she grinned. So far, so perfect.

Catching sight of the palace gate, she giggled as she saw a guard stretching in the distance, probably yawning from drowsiness during night duty.

Yes, she should indeed talk to her father in the future. Or not.

“Fools.”

//-//

Into the dense forest, they ran. Galloping hooves braving a weather that was somehow stormy. The air and the scenery was somehow eerie. Darkened clouds and thorny paths had so soon greeted them as Maya traversed towards the direction Karen had pointed out.

The location of a hidden tower.

From what Junna and Karen had shared in terms of the rumors they’d heard about it, they said a princess from the neighboring kingdom had been born twenty or so years ago. She had been blessed by three fairies, and cursed by a witch, Maleficent- was her name, apparently.

The girl was to prick her finger on a spindle of a spinning wheel, and then she’d sleep on death’s bed inevitably.

That was how it had gone.

Maya was a believer in the magic of the world. After all, the members of the royal family were some of the few who had been gifted with its wonder.

She wouldn’t call them miraculous, but she had undeniable strength that far exceeded many of their best male knights, as well as healing abilities that could get rid of smaller cuts, and halt excessive bleeding.

This proved useful as Maya made her way through the thick brush, feeling the sharp of thorns on occasion as she went deeper into the forest.

After a good hour or so of searching, Maya had found herself at the base of what she had presumed was the ‘palace’ from the rumors. Tall-standing and surrounded by thorns, with an eerie air that only added more fearsome layers to its image shrouded in darkness, Maya deliberated continuing on her little adventure.

Should it hold terrors far greater than she had initially accounted for, this curiosity trip would very easily end up with chaos and sorrow in an entire kingdom.

However, should rumors stay as rumors...

Maya laughed at her own foolishness as she dismounted Samson, tying him to a nearby tree.

“Let’s hope I don’t die, my boy.” She stroked her trusted steed as he nuzzled against her hand. “I’ll be back.”

//-//-//-//-//

Another cough exited her mouth, particles of dust shrouding her vision. Clearing away a cobweb with her hand, Maya found the first open door to any room she’s passed by thus far. A long winding stairwell sat inside, steps that snaked their way to the top of a tower invited Maya to take them and uncover the secrets they might lead to.

Maya took one step. Then another. And another.

Half-way to the top, she had found another door. Right away, she knew it was different from all the other wooden entrances she’d encountered so far. Besides the odd glow that seemed to be coming from within, it had an equally strange inscription carved into its wood.

With a light push, the door flew open, revealing a spinning wheel. The glow she had initially taken note of didn’t come from the room, apparently. But neither was it from the spinning wheel itself.

Maya focused her eyes on one part of the machinery, seeing the spindle sparkle alluringly, almost invitingly.

“What a dangerous-looking contraption.” She murmured, stepping closer. Sharp. It was sharp, she observed, the closer she got. “What if... someone got hurt?” In a trance like state, her body continued to close the distance between herself and the seemingly glowing piece of furniture. Her eyes remained fixated on its eerie shine. “...How tragic... would that be...”

Stopping just inches shy of the spindle, Maya’s breath stilled. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, almost as if Maya had forgotten the whole tale she had just been told, her hand lifted up, reaching for the spindle-

...when a creak suddenly caught her attention. As though a spell had been broken, Maya blinked, quickly pulling her hand away and looking up towards the source of the noise. She saw another door, one that was slightly open, leading into more darkness, revealing none of what possibly lay beyond it.

Her heart beat fast at the thought of either being caught by someone from her kingdom, or by an entirely different entity- a monster or ghoul perhaps? Either way, the dangers the options presented was not to her liking.

Still, this did little to douse the fire that was her thrill-seeking curiosity, and thus, she went after it: the dark and beyond.

She took careful steps, pushing the door to widen its opening in hopes that the strange light from the previous room would help to illuminate this new one. The hinged wood budged with an echoing creak, one that made Maya flinch, still wary of alerting any possible inhabitants of the palace.

Upon entering the room, Maya’s eyes fluttered about the dim surrounding, scanning over the surprisingly dusted furnishings, and well-kept room.

How strange.

For a place that supposedly only had a sleeping individual of a few years already, to be this clean... Was this also due to the effects of magic?

Her gaze continued to travel, hopping from one thing to another. She took careful, quiet steps about the room as she surveyed it, searching for a better source of light at the same time.

Coming to a curtained wall, she pulled the fabrics apart, hoping a window was present there. Smiling victoriously at her correct assumption, she allowed the natural evening light to flutter into the room and illuminate it as she turned around to see things more clearly.

And clearly she saw. Eyes widening, they came to rest upon a figure glowing under the elegant light of the moon. A sleeping beauty, resting. The princess of the rumors. Maya gazed upon her face, mind blanking and unable to tear her gaze away.

Her cheeks were somehow still a gorgeous apple-red despite supposedly having lack of nutrition due to her lengthy slumber- should the rumors hold any truth- albeit somewhat hollowed out. She had long lashes, and was fair-skinned. What drew Maya in the most in that moment was the glow of golden hair. Silky, fluffy, seemingly magical.

“Absolutely beautiful.”

Maya, outside of her conscious control, reached out to touch it- much like she’d almost done to the needle before. However, unlike that earlier attraction, this one was... different.

The pull of danger was as a hypnotic, malicious trance. Despite the dread coursing through your veins, the fear pounding in one’s heart, you could not step away. On the other hand, this allure was gentle, soft. She was not as a moth to a flame, nor a sailor to the siren’s song.

This was a hand held out, beckoning her for a life-changing dance as her fate entwined with whoever it was that lay upon satin sheets in an abandoned castle.

Maya flinched once her skin made contact with silken gold, before relaxing, enjoying their soft feel. Holding a few strands that slipped through her fingertips, she brought it to her lips placing a kiss on them.

Her heart beat painfully in her chest, but she did not think it was in any way unpleasant. Her eyes scanned over Sleeping Beauty’s features once more, resting upon slightly paled lips somehow growing larger and larger in her view.

Oh.

Maya had been drawing closer.

And Maya was about to kiss the lady.

Breath stilling in her lungs, Maya pulled her senses together, shaking her head as she berated herself for even considering such a distasteful course of action- throwing herself upon someone without the least bit of consent.

She’d seen many beautiful faces in her lifetime, she’d flirted with some too- much to Junna and her parents’ chagrin. But never had she felt as... captured as she was in this moment; never had Maya been filled with a strong urge to know who this person was, to have the pleasure of being acquainted with someone such as this.

She had never felt the desire to steal a kiss from someone she’d just met, and hoped that maybe... they’d kiss back.

Eyes widening, Maya slapped her hands against both sides of her face; the feeling of the warmth of her cheeks grounded her back in the reality of the moment as she attempted to take a step back and recollect herself-

And suddenly she found herself looking up at the ceiling and into precious garnets with a flame-like passion burning within them as she was pinned down to the mattress by their glare and their owner’s physical strength.

A lovely owner, might she add.

“Who. Are.  You.”

Maya blinked.

‘Even her voice is lovely.’-She thought, despite the venom in its tone. Whether Maya’s heart was picking up speed due to fright or something else, she didn’t know. Her mind was a jumbled mess of being dumbfounded and starstruck at the beauty presented to her, her subconscious’ warnings that she was currently in danger, and confusion towards this predicament she had found herself in.

“I said, Who are you.” Maya’s fair lady repeated, shaking her by the collar for emphasis that she was not to be joked with, and that Maya should answer seriously if she wanted to make it out of this situation in one piece.

Did she, however?

Maya wondered if she had some sort of odd preferences deep down that despite her apprehensions and surprise, she couldn’t help but feel merry and excited in her position, laying beneath some unknown gorgeous woman who was angered and threatening.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face as she replied, “Why, I’m Maya. And you?” She hoped it at least looked charming, like the one she usually used on all the pretty village girls as their faces soon turned red and flustered.

She didn’t expect to get a growl instead... or should she have?

“Are you one of her servants?” The blonde interrogated, not answering Maya’s own question as she searched Maya’s eyes for any motives of deception and dishonesty.

“Her?” Maya cocked her head to the side curiously. “Who might you be referring to, my dear?” She asked, somehow still hoping to charm or tease the woman with a subtle pet name that only went ignored.

Golden brows scrunched up further, fangs baring more obviously for Maya to admire as the woman answered her question. “Maleficent, obviously!”

“Maleficent?” Now where had Maya heard of that before...

Apparently, this strange beauty had taken it upon herself to fill Maya in on the details, as she released her from her grip, pushing her away and onto the sheets as she got up to pace the room in clear vexation and rage from just the thought of whoever this ‘Maleficent’ person was. Just her name was enough to rile her up, it seemed, and Maya’s suspicious and intruding presence was now quickly forgotten as her newly-awakened companion went off on a raged rant.

“She who has locked me up for who knows how long. With the silly prophesy that I’d prick my finger on a spindle and fall asleep for many years.” She explained, pausing in her steps to give Maya a look. “That one.”

Maya still didn’t quite follow. It all did sound so familiar.

“I beg your pardon?”

The lady didn’t seem to have heard Maya as she continued on her fiery tirade. “Who in their right mind, when being told the exact misfortune that would serve as their demise, go with it? Certainly not I!”

“I see...?” Maya had now assumed a more comfortable sitting position atop the room’s mattress, watching the woman in front of her continue to grumble and pace about.

“Avoiding that damned curse was nothing of a challenge- it was trivial, even.” She sighed, biting her nail in annoyance. “But there’s an entirely different issue at hand!” She exclaimed, stomping her foot down as she crossed her arms and looked to Maya, as if asking her to tell her what it was.

Maya had no clue whatsoever.

She heard her companion click her tongue in disappointment at the lack of response, and that somehow stung for Maya.

Maya was quickly enlightened once more by the things she had no clue about.

“I can’t leave the building for some reason. Each time I’ve tried, it was as though I’d entered a never-ending maze.” She huffed. “And even if I got passed that, I’ve discovered that she sends a dragon to check up on me from time to time. The timing is sporadic so I can’t even plan a definite schedule of escape. Maybe if I had my sword, though...” She mumbled the last bits to herself. “Maybe it would be a different story.”

Maya watched the troubled girl continue with her mental acrobatics and murmuring, still bewildered by the sudden outburst of emotions and quickly growing pile of information that she was still trying to process bit by bit. She reviewed the story she had heard in her memory to the best of her abilities, somehow feeling that something was off with the tale she had just been told.

Something clicked, and she snapped her fingers in realization, as she got up from her seat and walked over to the perplexed lady.

“Excuse me-”

“What.” The response was biting and cold.

Maya flinched, but prepared an unbothered smile as she tried to strike up a coherent conversation with this girl.

“I’m sorry, but... I just wanted to confirm something.”

The blonde only raised her brow, telling Maya silently to go on.

Maya suddenly felt nervous, and nervous wasn’t really something she thought she was capable of feeling, not with all her background and training. However, under the scrutiny of those intense eyes, she felt her throat dry as she struggled to use her words.“Um, so...” She began, feeling the urge to rub at the back of her neck to ease her sudden anxiety. “You said you couldn’t find a way to leave?” She finally got out lamely.

“Yes, that’s what I said. Weren’t you listening?” Was the fiery response that confirmed Maya’s confusion.

“I... I see.” Maya stuttered. She cursed at the fact that she did. Still, she had to continue on with this conversation in order to understand what was nagging at her. “I see, but...”

“But?”

Maya pointed towards the way she came in, the door still wide open and with that odd glow from the needle in the previous room she’d passed to arrive in this one. “The exit is right there, milady.” She stated slowly, clearly, hoping the other woman would get her message.

“...”

“...milady?”

She received an angered glare, feeling her collar grasped once more as Maya was pulled to meet the woman eye to eye. “What foolishness are you spouting?” She questioned, thrusting a finger in the direction Maya had pointed at. “That is clearly a wall.”

Maya blinked, tilting her head in confusion. No, no. She was clearly not blind, was she? She was sure that she wasn’t dreaming either- that she was in the right state of mind. So why...

Instead of trying to explain things, or understand through words, Maya decided to figure things out the easier way. She pried the other woman’s hands away and made her way towards the door. She felt the heated gaze on her back as she stood in front of the open frame. Looking back once, she nodded.

And she walked right through the door.

Staring at the lady through the passage, she wondered why she wasn’t being followed, why there was no ‘I hadn’t noticed that there’, or any similar words.

All she heard was an awed, “How did you do that?”, and her lagging brain clicked. Oh.

Maya came back in, multiple possibilities and reasons now running through her mind as to why this girl could not see the clearly placed exit. Right, this place was covered in magic. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? Maya put on her smile once more, approaching the girl as she took her by the hand and led her closer to the door. “I’m telling you, milady. There’s nothing here.”

She still looked at Maya skeptically, clearly in doubt.

“Milady, do you believe in magic?”

She received a deadpanned look, and she realized it wasn’t the smartest question to ask someone who had been locked up in a tower, guarded by a dragon, and cursed to suffer eternal slumber by the touch of one tiny needle.

“Apologies, of course you do.”

Maya watched the blonde sigh, as she nodded, looking at Maya with a calmer demeanor as she stated what they now thought they both knew. “So there’s a door there, and I simply can’t see it because I’m probably under some type of illusion spell.”

Maya hummed her agreement, and admired the way her companion’s face lit up in relief and a joy she didn’t think she’d ever see replace the grouchy expression that seemed to be forever set in place.

“Well.” Maya’s sleeping beauty smiled at her, unknowingly making her heart skip a beat. Maya wondered what that was about.

“Well?” Maya parroted, clearing her throat after a minor crack in her voice.

“Now that we know that this wall is but an illusion... I guess I feel like a fool for not trying to figure that out any sooner.” The woman laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she turned to look about her room. “I suppose it’s time for me to leave this musty old building and claim my freedom.” She grinned. “I wonder if I can find anything of use here that I can take with me.”

Huh. She was leaving.

Somehow Maya didn’t like the sound of that.

She couldn’t leave. Not when they hadn’t even had a proper conversation yet.

To where would she go? Would it be to a place where Maya could find her, or seek her out? Maya felt compelled to stay with her, or have her stay with Maya. Maybe they could go back to Maya’s kingdom together... and then she could get to know her more. Maya... wanted-needed to get to know her more. Even if she didn’t know why that was herself.

Right, Maya still didn’t know her name. Where was she from? Why was she... Maya needed to ask. Maya needed to know.

Clearing her throat once more, she reached out for the girl.

“So, I was wondering-”

“It was nice knowing you, thank you for showing me the way out.” Were the words that interrupted her plans.

‘Wait, no. Not yet. Where are you going?’

“Now I must be off-”Maya’s panicked hands were too late in catching the girl as she tried to exit the room, “Oof-What the...” but instead found herself hitting a hard barrier and falling onto her back.

Hmm?

“Hmm? What... happened...” Maya asked, quickly kneeling to check on her fallen companion.

The woman rubbed her forehead, a red spot marking the area that probably hurt the most. “That’s what I’m asking.” She quickly turned to glare at Maya, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You.” She angrily spat. “You lied to me.”

“Wha- I did no such thing!” Maya felt compelled to defend herself, getting up from her spot and hastily walking in and out of the doorway, as if that would prove some point. “See?”

“I don’t see!” The blonde exclaimed, crossing her arms as she sat on the floor. “You really are one of Maleficent’s henchmen! What, did she send you here to make a fool of me? Is she watching from somewhere? Is this some kind of sick entertainment for her?” She madly questioned, standing up and jamming a finger into Maya’s chest, forcing her back.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not!” Maya countered, her own volume raising.

“Then who are you?!” The woman screeched at her, pinning her against the wall- except that it wasn’t a wall for Maya, and she promptly fell through into the other room and onto the cold hard floor.

“Ouch... that hurt...” Maya groaned as she got up, running her fingers against the back of her head gently to soothe the sharp pain there.

She looked up to see the girl on the other side of the entryway banging her fists against a barrier Maya could not visualize, but the other could not deal away with, apparently.

“Who are you?” She was asked again. “Who are you?! If you aren’t one of those people who have thrown me in here, how did you find me? How did you know of this place? Why are you here?! Tell me!”

Maya silently watched her continue to yell in fury, continually slamming her hands desperately against the ‘open door’.

“Were you here to toy with my sanity? To give me false hope that I’d finally get be able to be free?”

Each question was accentuated by a hard thumping sound as she beat against the wall.

“Did you leave already?! Figures you would! You didn’t even try to prove me wrong!”

Maya considered the option of exiting the place, no longer willing to tolerate the manner with which she had been treated the entire time. She considered it.

She considered no longer having to deal with this clearly crazed woman. She did not know what came over her when she thought that she was the least bit attractive.

She considered getting up. She got up.

She considered turning away. Maya did.

She considered finally walking out of the room...

-until she heard it.

The tiniest sniffle, so small she could have missed it if it weren’t for the sudden complete quiet after all the loud noise.

“...I just thought I’d finally be able to find my way home...Wherever home is...”

A pang shot through her heart as she turned back around, eyes falling upon a forlorn face that was quick to be covered in tears. If that wasn’t enough to drive an emotional knife through her chest, the lady beyond the wall began to wail helplessly in what Maya could only describe as pure, unadulterated pain.

“WHY AM I HERE?! WHAT DID I EVEN DO TO DESERVE THIS?! WHO EVEN AM I?! WHY ME?!” The girl sobbed. “Damn you, Maleficent! Damn you, dragon, damn this stupid tower, damn it all!”

Maya watched the girl slump against the clear barrier, falling to her knees as her poundings returned in weak waves and slaps against the wall, until she ended up curling on the floor, quietly sniffling and well-worn.

Maya approached the door once more, wanting to reach out, but not knowing what to say. She crouched down, mouth opening and closing until her voice eventually came out.

“I... I’m still here.” She spoke softly. There was no response. “Can you hear me?” Nothing still.

Maya bit her lip nervously. If she tried to go back in, would she be walking straight into death’s clutches? Would she get beat up? Even if she escaped later, how was she to explain what happened once she returned home?

Maya needed to think... wait, but did she have the time? She didn’t have all night to do whatever it was she came here to do. She needed to be out by sunrise and well on her way home. Wait... home? What home? Where was she? Why did she need to go home? Why was she here in the first place? Where was here?

“What am I...”

She felt a sharp pain in her head. Was it from the fall? Maya suddenly felt dizzy, her head began to spin and ache as she fell to the ground. She cursed the throbbing in her head. Maybe she could try healing it with magic. Maybe that would assuage the pain.

Healing? Magic?

What...

Maya shook her head. She didn’t have the time to think about all these things that were suddenly confusing her. She just had to do what she needed to.

Her hand took on a golden glow that almost seemed foreign to her. She didn’t know what it was, but somehow her body told her she should do it, that she could.

Shakily raising her hand up in a struggle, she managed to touch her head, and suddenly, along with a blindingly bright glow that filled the room, she felt clarity and many thoughts flowing in, as the pain melted away into nothingness along with the light.

Maya blinked, suddenly remembering so many things that she didn’t even know she’d forgotten. “...The princess. I’m... a princess. I’m Tendou Maya and I’m here to... I wanted to find out about a princess- the princess!” In panic, she turned to the lady she had been with all this time, her story earlier now registering in Maya’s mind and associating with the tall tale Junna and Karen had spoken about.

Maleficent... a tower... magic... a spindle and a curse.

Maya whipped her head about to see that the needle was no longer glowing to her. It looked like any old spinning wheel, sat in a room.

It was like an enchantment had been lifted off of Maya, and she saw with clearer eyes what was going on.

When had it settled? Was it the moment she entered this forsaken castle? Was it when she had laid eyes on the cursed contraption? Maya did not know.

All she knew was that she needed to help set free this woman that was most probably the princess from the rumors that may as well not be rumors. But how?

Well, it didn’t matter right now. Maya just needed to take some course of action to temporarily ease the situation. She could figure out the rest later. Soon. She did not know how long she’d been here in the tower, nor did she have a way of telling how much time she had left before needing to leave except through the window she’d opened in the other room. If she had to go in anyway, she may as well explain things to the captive princess inside.

Maya swallowed thickly, wondering what she should do now. The princess still lay across the way. Should she simply step over her and enter like that? Or should she move her out of the way first. Either option would probably get her beat, but Maya didn’t need to think about that right now... maybe if she held her in place to prevent her from attacking once she notices Maya’s presence?

Nodding to herself, Maya crept closer to the open door, knelt down on one knee, bracing her arms for the weight.

She needed to do it smootly and quickly, before there was any time for the other woman to register what was going on.

Three... two... one...

“Wha-!”

Maya slipped her hands and arms under the princess’ weight and hurriedly carried her up and over to lay her down on the bed before she could react.

“You!” Wide eyes regarded Maya with shock as she pinned the other princess down by her wrists, hoping that she couldn’t break free. “Why are you back?! What more are you going to do to me?! Are you- Get off me! Get off!”

“Wait! Wait! I need you to listen to me for a moment! Please!”

“Why should I, you rascal- what are you doing to me-mmpghhmm! Mmmmphhh!!!”

Maya had managed to hold down both the other woman’s wrists with only one of her hands, while she used her free one to cover her mouth, hoping to silence her, if only for a bit.

“PLEASE JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE.” Maya shouted sternly, shocking them both by the power and force in her voice. She felt worse as she noticed the still-present tear stains on her cheeks. They stared at one another in complete silence, until Maya regained her thought process. “Please. Listen. I’ll tell you all I know. But please listen first.”

The girl still looked shocked, but nodded.

Maya nodded back, pondering her next words. “If I... release you. Will you promise to stay silent and behaved, and let me explain everything?”

She watched the girl slowly nod once more.

Maya looked at her doubtfully.

“You won’t attack me?”

Another nod.

“...okay. I’ll let go now.”

To be safe, she first took her hand away from the girl’s mouth, receiving a disgusted glare.

“Leather tastes awful.”

“You promised to stay silent.”

“You promised to release me.”

Maya felt her brows furrow, feeling the slightest bit annoyed.

“Do not attack me.” She warned, slowly releasing the woman’s hands. “I swear, do not attack me. Do not.” She chanted, hands finally completely off.  “I’m telling you, I swear. Do not-”

And once more, she found herself pinned against the cushions, only this time, she was face first into them.

“I SWEAR TO GOD-”

“Tell me who you are and why you are here!” Was demanded of her. “And don’t try anything strange.” Maya could probably find a clever way to weasel her way out, but she knew if she raised any more suspicion by being untruthful or vague, she’d get nowhere in negotiating and explaining with this person.

Sighing her usual pride away, she asked a single question first.

“Will you believe what I’m about to tell you?”

After all, there would be no point if she didn’t.

“Yes.” The answer was quick, and Maya was genuinely surprised.

“R-really?!”

Genuinely surprised.

“Just spit it out. No funny business either.”

Maya actually felt elated as she did her best to nod in her position.

“Okay, I will tell you. My name really is Maya.”

“Maya. Maya what?”

“T-Tendou Maya.” She answered, before adding, “I’m a princess from the nearby kingdom, and I came here to confirm a rumor.”

Suddenly she felt herself released. Easing up into a sitting position, she turned to look at an oddly nervous face.

“... Are you serious about the princess bit... Tendou Maya?”

A tingle ran through her spine at the sound of her name rolling off those insanely gorgeous lips that she was suddenly so conscious of once more, almost forgetting to respond.

“Y-yes. Yes. I promise. No lies here.”

She was given a once-over, before the other party looked away and whispered a quiet ‘sorry’.

Why... was it so cute.

“So we can be civil.” Maya quipped, lightly teasing.

“Shut up.” The woman huffed. “And so? What rumor, p-princess?” Maya was asked carefully, snapping her out of any unnecessary thoughts.

Right. Maya inhaled deeply, breathing out a question in return to first confirm something. “Do you know how old you are?” She asked.

Her companion looked at her confusedly, before nodding. “If my guess is right, and that Maleficent visits every year or so to see if I still exist... then I know I am roughly twenty years old from the time I was taken away at six. But what does that have to do with what you’re saying?”

Maya nodded to herself, now a little more sure, and hoping that these rumors actually held some kind of truth to them. She looked seriously into confused eyes, ready to explain.

“If that is so then... the rumor was that a princess had been asleep in a castle in the woods for many years. I... came here to investigate.”

“Princess?” The girl echoed. “Me?” She asked again, pointing a finger to herself.

Maya nodded.

“What?”

“If the rumors hold any weight to them, then...”

“But really, a princess?” The girl continued to be skeptical, and Maya was becoming just as confused as she was.

“Wait, don’t you know that? But...” Digging through her memory, Maya was so sure that... “But you knew that you were supposed to prick your finger and fall asleep, didn’t you? Why wouldn’t you know that you’re a princess...”

Two confused ladies sat on a bed, staring at each other in utter confusion.

“I was raised in a cottage in the woods by three aunts. They just happened to warn me about something odd like this. And they told me that if I ever came across a Maleficent person, I should try my best to get away...”

“But how did you end up here?” Maya was now so very lost.

“I honestly do not know.” The blonde shrugged. “I woke up one day in the room with the needle, somehow felt angry that I fell into the stupid situation I was trying to avoid... and I remember walking away from it. Next thing I know, I’ve already grown up in... this place.” She shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing towards the whole room. Maya suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

“Pff- what?”

“What?” The look on the other woman’s face told Maya that she was slightly offended with Maya’s reaction.

“No, I just... Your tale sounded like it should have been much more dramatic than that. But then you just... walked away. From what was essentially your life’s bane.” Maya giggled, laughed in disbelief, combing a hand through her hair. “I can’t... I can’t believe you.” She said, looking the girl in the eyes in amusement.

“How rude... after I believed every word you said.” She grumbled.

“Except that you are possibly a princess?”

“...No one would believe that.”

“And you believe that I am?”

She received a shrug. “Best be safe than sorry. If you ever go back to your little kingdom and report that you were manhandled by a random prisoner in the forest, I might be free from this prison, but moving straight into another. Though that doesn’t sound so bad if it means I have company.”

“Pfff.. ahahahha. What are you saying?” She broke out into laughter, wiping tears away from her eyes, feeling more and more relieved by the second.

Everything felt so surreal to Maya. It all felt peaceful and settled, like she wasn’t just adventuring in a dangerous area; like she hadn’t just been under- and fighting against- the effects of a spell that was distorting her mind; as though she wasn’t just wrestling for life with the woman now seated calmly across from her.

A woman she still didn’t know, but felt like she should.

“And so?” Maya said, finally calming down.

“So? So what?”

Maya felt a familiar giddy smile playing over her lips once more.

“You told me what was essentially your life story, so how about you finally tell me your name next?”

“My name?”

“Yes. Your full name, if possible.” Maya said with a bat of her lashes that earned her an eye roll.

“Right, how about no.”

Maya felt her lips fall into a pout. “But why? Isn’t it only fair that I get your name in exchange for my own?”

“All is fair in love and war, whether you get my name or not.” The woman shrugged, returning a grin of her own.

Maya liked that. The grin, and the mention of love.

Love... huh.

As Maya continued to get hung over on those words, she heard a cock crow in the distance, reality immediately sinking in as she looked in the direction of the window only to be greeted by the thin orange line of the morning horizon.

‘No!’

“I-I have to go!” She sprung up to her feet, panic in her voice as she looked around the room hastily for anything she may have dropped of hers. Finding all her things secure, her gaze finally landed on the lonely smile on the face of the woman she had strangely become attached to- so much so that she didn’t want to leave. She gasped, realizing what she’d said wrong. “I-I mean... we- we have to-”

“I suppose this is goodbye.” The other woman said quietly in a tone that was a far cry from her earlier fierceness. “We both know I can’t leave. Not unless we figure out how I could.” She spoke, eyes trailing towards the door only Maya could see. Her voice was small, insecure. It was sorrowful. It hurt.

But it didn’t have to, Maya realized.

She coughed a few times, approaching the foot of the bed, kneeling by the seated maiden. She hesitantly offered her hands up, pleased when the response of the woman was to place her own in Maya’s.

Maya took in a deep breath to counter the unexpected anxiousness growing within her.

Lifting her gaze up, her words came out in a mere whisper. “M-May I... come see you again?”

Maya watched her eyes express the widest range of emotions she’d ever seen from a person. Shock, embarrassment, warmth, fondness, gratefulness...

They were beautiful.

Even the small drops of tears that had begun to form at the tips of her long lashes, beautiful.

Her current smile and bout of gentle laughter, beautiful.

The way she sniffled, and the fresh trail of tears that rewrote the story of the prior stains on her face- so beautiful.

The way her golden hair framed her face, stray tresses sticking to her slightly sweaty skin- beautiful.

Maya stared at beauty itself, and was left in awe.

“Only if you bring me a better meal than stale bread and uncooked potatoes.” She chuckled through her sniffling.

Maya felt her heart flutter erratically, barely managing a playful response. “Any requests?”

“... Tuna.” Was the near inaudible reply, coupled with a shy tint on her companion’s cheeks.  

“May I inquire as to why?” Maya asked, feeling her stupid grin widening so much, it ached.

“...I just like it...”

Just who was this adorably shy creature, and how could Maya make her even happier.

“Understood. I will acquire for you only the best.” Maya smiled, the pads of her thumbs running circles over the smooth skin of the other princess’ hands.

Another crow of the rooster made her grip those hands lightly, the sting in her chest coming back.

“I s-suppose I’ll see you again later.” Maya said, looking down at their joined hands, avoiding the other’s gaze as she stood up.

As she began to pull away, she felt a light tug. Looking up, she met bashful garnets searching her eyes, and quivering lips that were trying to communicate something.

“Yes?” Maya gently prompted, squeezing her hands lightly.

“Claude. For now... you can call me... Claude...J-just so that... when you come back...” Claude trailed off, averting her gaze shyly- rather endearingly, might Maya add.

“Claude.” Maya smiled, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “I will come back.”

She relished the blush blooming across ‘Claude’s’ face, pocketing it in a memory to be recalled multiple times throughout her everyday, no doubt.

“I will definitely bring you home. I’ll figure out a way.”

Maya cupped her face, wiping the few tears that had escaped away as she rested her forehead against Claude’s.

“I will definitely bring you home, free.”

A/N: I clearly strayed from theme. Sorry. Ah. ;-; sorry, this was no-good ;-; Sorry Leooooooo, hope you liked it even a littleeeeee.

~Shintori Khazumi

#mayakuro #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revstar #starira #fanfic #saijou claudine #tendou maya #aijo karen #hoshimi junna #parody #sleeping beauty