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thebibliosphere · 3 years

Note

So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

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shoichee · 3 years

Note

Hello and congrats on the 100 milestone! Can you do prompt #19 for Midorima? 😁

MAN OH MAN IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME BUT I’M FINALLY BACK, TSYM for being here since the beginning, i rlly rlly appreciate it <333 so HERES SOME FLUFF

Midorima x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 3349

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

“Seriously, are you sure you’re not secretly related to Shin-chan?” Takao shoves another helping of rice into his mouth and you instantly frown at his messy eating habits.

“Takao, it doesn’t hurt to wipe the grains off your cheeks with napkins that the cafeteria always abundantly provides,” you say, not once taking your eyes off of the study guide you compiled for the class final. “And please don’t talk with your mouth open.” You can easily sense Takao groaning before slapping his eyes while leaning back in frustration, but you still carried on in skimming your notes instead.

“And that’s exactly why Shin-chan doesn’t know how to approach you,” he petulantly mumbles. You spared a glance above your packets, not catching his inaudible words.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Takao sighs, settling to childishly stabbing the shrimp tempuras with his chopsticks and popping them into his mouth. “You werdn’t gert it.”

“What did I just say about your eating manners?” You roll your eyes, choosing to brush off his words as you continue to devote your attention to your papers. Takao simply opts to noisily munch on the rest of his lunch while being deep in thought, letting you study in some relative peace. He then gets up, tosses his trash away, and plops back down on his seat, and he props up his chin on his arm, watching you completely engrossed in your own world and figuring out how to exactly figure out his next best course of action.

“Y’know what? Screw this, I’m not getting paid to be a wingman for two difficult people,” he dramatically sighs, purposely trying to get your attention, and it worked. “You might wanna start paying attention to poor Shin-chan before he over thinks himself to death.” Takao does an exaggerated shrug and a shake of his head to emphasize the “seriousness” of the situation. You merely frown.

“You never cease to amaze me with your convoluted words. If you want something from me, just spit it out already.” You reluctantly let down your papers to give him your undivided attention, and Takao leans closer, dropping his voice to a hush.

“Look, I know you see him in a different light from the others,” he whispers conspiringly. “And he does too.” He makes pointer-finger motions in front of him to represent “you” and “Midorima.”

“... This again?” You pinch your nose bridge and release a harsh sigh, but you nonetheless let Takao continue.

“Come on, would it really hurt to do a confession? For someone so blunt and straightforward, you’re really dragging this out for way too long.” Takao frowns at your deadpan expression but continues his little movements with his makeshift “finger puppets.” “Once you”—he takes his left index finger—“and Shin-chan”—he brings his right index closer to his left—“do the chu”— he brings his index fingers together to imply the situation—“I can finally be free from the clutches of Shi—”

“I already told you,” you smoothly interrupt, “that we don’t see each other that way. He’s been a reliable partner in class projects and a very helpful person to share notes with. I’m very certain it’s like that on his end with me too.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed when you say it like that?” Takao slowly grows a shit-eating (yet hopeful) smirk. You scowl at his implications. Takao amusedly notes that you’re way too similar to his best friend.

“There’s no chance that we’ll ever get to that stage… ever. Okay? Satisfied now?”

“So you are disappointed at the possible outcome,” Takao gleefully says, his face showing all signs of plans being concocted in his mind. You completely widen your eyes at your simple slip-up.

“I… it’s not a possible outcome, damn it,” you vehemently insist. “It’s a guarantee.”

“Puh-lease (y/n)-chan, how do you know unless you try it?”

“Alright Takao,” you dryly reply. “Why don’t you try staring directly at the sun first before confirming that you become blind from that?”

“That’s not the same!”

“Same logic,” you huff. “Look, you know Midorima-san more than anyone, and even you know how he thinks. He finds the concept of friends and teammates to be pretty unnecessary, and frankly I can empathize with him. If he finds camaraderie to be a hassle already, dating is already beyond off the table. It takes much more to be a genuine friend to him than your average person, and if I do, by chance, confess, I’d be throwing away everything that I built up with him like an idiot… just being like this with him is more than enough for me. Besides, a relationship isn’t important right now, not when class takes up most of the time.”

“Well, normally yes, but in this specific case, there’s an excep—”

“I already came clean with this,” you say, furrowing your brows. “So can you finally let me study for this class in peace? Obviously, it’s a given for you not to open your mouth to anyone else about this.” With that, you tune out any further noise and burrow yourself into your class materials, and Takao could only sigh as he tries to wrack his brain for another way to play wingman.

“... Seriously, they’re both so stubborn.”

———

“(y/n)-san.”

“Hm?”

You turn around from looking at the bulletin to the person who just addressed you. Midorima stares down at you quite seriously before he promptly clears his throat.

“You’re blocking the way, nanodayo.”

“Ah… I apologize,” you say, immediately stepping closer to the bulletin to clear up the hallway. You turn your face to appear fixated on the bulletin board, but still sensing Midorima staring at you, you reluctantly peek at him from your peripheral vision. “... Is there something else you need, Midorima-san?” Midorima looks at the bulletin board for a moment before he turns back to your face.

“Regarding the group project we were paired to do in chemistry,” he starts, “the teacher praised our work very highly and wants to know if he can use it as an example for future lectures. I’m here to hear your answer on his behalf.”

You mentally sigh from the secretive disappointment. Of course Midorima was here for straightforward business. Nothing more, nothing less. Still, Takao’s words begin flitting through your mind now… of all times.

“Of course he can use it,” you smile. “I think it’s an honor to have our project regarded so highly like that, especially since so much effort was put into it… although… I think you’re the reason why we received such a high score, Midorima-san.” You train your gaze on Midorima, trying to gauge his reaction from the compliment, but he gives no such sign away, not any that you were aware of as far as you were concerned.

“(y/n)-san, I believe your own efforts and work ethic shouldn’t be trivialized,” Midorima replies, briefly closing his eyes and adjusting his frames. “After all, you are the one who made this project a cohesive final product, one that is also comprehensible to other peers in our presentation.”

“Ah… well…” You were definitely thrown in for a loop, not expecting Midorima to compliment you back so openly, albeit probably not for the reasons you were hoping for. “... Thank you, Midorima.” In an attempt to curb your growing flusteredness, you opted to stare at the bulletin board again, pretending to be occupied in reading the pinned papers.

“... Right.” Midorima softly clears his throat. “I’ll be taking my leave back to the faculty office. It was good talking to you.”

He swiftly turns around and walks back in the direction he came from, and when you were certain that he was walking judging from his footsteps, you turn your head to stare at his back before averting your gaze.

You frown once he exits out of your sight as you ponder about his particular diction.

“It was good talking to you”? Had Midorima ever said that to anyone before? You sigh to yourself and pinch your nose bridge to chastise yourself. Takao was right; you might’ve fallen a little too hard for the reserved individual, but even still, a relationship isn’t something you wanted to actively chase after.

Amidst your dilemma, you were completely unaware that Takao watched the entire exchange, holding back his laughter from seeing you uncharacteristically look like an absolute love-stricken fool. He got too much of a kick out of seeing the both of you trying to flirt… and an even bigger kick when he saw Midorima turning around to briefly “discreetly” stare at you while you were having your inner monologue.

———

“Takao, I’m having none of your bullshit today.” Midorima simply scowls as he prepares to leave the main building to the gym. Takao merely tags along while taunting him in a sing-song voice.

“Come onnn,” Takao insists, slapping Midorima’s back a little too harshly. “You said it yourself didn’t you? Favorable outcomes come to those who prepare the most. Don’t lie, I know you’ve been planning to naturally bump into our (y/n)-chan in different scenarios. Like yesterday in the hall—”

“You knew?!” Midorima jumps out of his skin to shoot an accusatory look at him, but Takao merely struggles to hold back a snicker at his reaction.

“Shin-chan, how hard is it to say three specific little words to someone else?” Takao sends a frustrated look. “You’ve always gone the extra mile to prepare your lucky items, read the Oha Asa predictions, and do little rituals not just for yourself but also for (y/n)-chan too, yet you don’t want to do a simple thing like confessing?”

“A confession isn’t that simple,” he retorts. “It can alter my fate for potentially worse if I’m not prepared.”

“Jeez, only you can take this so seriously,” Takao sighs, which only earned him a withering look from Midorima’s end. “But then again, it’s nice that you see it as something serious… but when are you actually gonna do it?” His response was only silence, as if he didn’t really give much thought about it until it was brought up now.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh come on, Shin-chan!”

“To be honest,” he says, stopping in place. “The horoscope says that Cancers would be rejected by signs like of (y/n)-san’s, much less be compatible. Predictions state that such relationships between the two would be troublesome.”

“Okay, Shin-chan,” Takao says, patting Midorima’s shoulder. “I know I constantly joke about this Oha Asa and this entire thing with (y/n)-chan, but”—he stops when he sees Midorima giving him another scathing look—“even if the horoscopes state it so, it’s like you said: favorable outcomes come to those who do the most. If you did everything you could, I see no reason to be scared. Plus, you have me to help you.”

“... It’s not that. Part of this is beyond what I can do to prepare. Whatever I do will not influence (y/n)-san’s answer, and that is something out of my control.”

“You know, you could just say that you’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“Well, if you want me to be honest,” Takao says. “I think it’s because the two of you are so eerily similar that you find it hard to approach (y/n)-san. Like, when’s the last time you’ve met someone as serious and stiff as yo—I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Please don’t raise your fist at me!”

“That being said,” he continues, “Just talk to (y/n) like you’ve talked to everyone else. I mean you both always hit it off when you talk together in class.”

“I… suppose…”

“Trust me,” Takao grins, slightly elbowing Midorima’s ribs. “I’d like to think of myself as an accurate guy in ball-passing and in detecting social cues.”

———

You really tried to carry yourself normally.

You really did.

But a part of you is becoming hyper-aware of everything Midorima does, and being your normally collected self is suddenly becoming a lot more difficult. Studying at your own desk is nigh impossible with both Midorima’s words and Takao’s implications running through your mind. Even Midorima, who normally minds his own business, shoots you pensive looks here and there during class, and he approaches you during break after.

“... Your sign is at one of the lowest ranks in luck today… may that be the reason why you’re not being your usual self?” He studies as you pull yourself together.

“Erm… somewhere along the lines, yeah. Most likely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” you mumble, rubbing your neck to ease the nervousness.

“Is that so…” he says. He pulls out a small toy that was found in the local gachapon down the street. “Ahem… I hear that your lucky item is this today.” He holds it out in front of you, silently waiting for you to take it, and you gently pluck it out of his large hands.

“Well, what about you?” you inquire. “I’m sure you got this toy for a reason, like say… for your own good luck?”

“Well,” he coughs. “I have my own. I am always prepared for such occurrences should things go awry.”

“You’re always so prepared for everything,” you quietly laugh. “Not that it’s a bad thing, though. I do wish I was more like you in that regard.”

“W-Well, I think you have your own admirable traits to be proud of, er…” Midorima slowly turns red and contemplates backtracking on his words. “I-If you excuse me, I must get going for health committee duties, nanodayo.” He heaves his bag on his shoulder as you wave at him, and he lingers there, debating on something that you aren’t sure what it is. “Might you have time afterschool today?”

“Uh… not that I think of,” you reply. “Are you already looking ahead to the next partner assignment?”

“Actually, no… it won’t take much of your time, (y/n)-san. It’s something quick. Can we meet at the vending machines near the gym? I do have practice around that time, so I hope somewhere nearby could suffice for you too.”

“That’s fine with me, because… I feel like I need to tell you something too or I won’t be able to study at this rate, but if you have practice, shouldn’t you be focused on that more?”

“It’s fine. This one takes… a higher priority.” Midorima fixes his glasses and readjusts his grip on his shoulder bag as he ponders about your own words. “If this arrangement is fine with you, I will be seeing you after school.” You only nod as you wave goodbye at him again, and you exhale a long sigh of relief and nervousness once he leaves. You really wonder if telling Midorima that you had something important to tell him was a good move on your part, considering that you can’t backtrack your words on someone as stubborn as him. Takao may or may not have seen Midorima’s attempt in being forward and silently laughed himself to oblivion in the corner of the classroom.

———

“Were you waiting long, Midorima-san?” You briskly jog with your heavy bag to the destined location to see Midorima thumbing through his book before he looks up.

“You are as punctual as always.” He closes his book with a thud and places it in his bag on the bench before he stands up to face you. “Which is always appreciated considering it is not as common in others.”

“I just think it’s common courtesy.”

“Not quite, considering I asked you rather suddenly to meet me here,” he says. “You aren’t obligated to even agree in meeting me, yet here you are on time, just like with our past project sessions.”

“Well… you did say it was important enough that you put practice as a second priority, and I do want to tell you something too.”

“R-Right…”

An awkward silence dominates the exchange after Midorima clears his throat and goes silent as you patiently wait in agony. You eye at his troubled expression, wondering what sort of thing he was going to tell you that got him so worked up. At the same time, you grew slightly antsier, quietly tapping a foot or rubbing your neck, and you wonder if Midorima was actually waiting for you to say something first.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

“I-I believe I may have developed feelings akin to attraction for you.”

“Uh…”

“Ahem…”

Both of you stare at each other in unadulterated surprise.

“... You… like me?” Midorima murmurs, his eyes still full blown in shock.

“L-Likewise,” you reply, opting to stare at Midorima’s bag on the bench instead. Another awkward silence ensues as both of you take in each other’s sudden words and Midorima clears his throat again.

“... Why are you afraid of liking me?” Midorima restores his composure, staring at your flustered state with furrowed brows, thinking that he somehow made you uncomfortable at some point throughout the year.

“Wait… no! That’s not what I meant!” you say, mildly shaking your head. “Uh, let me rephrase that…” Midorima silently watches you as you continue. “Well, you weren’t the person to have romance in your mind, let alone have feelings, let alone for me, and… my friendship with you is something that I treasure, and I don’t want to hinder you with such things that can make you uncomfortable in being around me. That was why I was afraid, although I’ve been in denial about it until recently.”

“I see.”

“And um, I thought that confessing to you would end the friendship we had.”

“... Likewise.” Midorima uses your word against you with an upward curl of his lip. It almost seems like he was teasing you. You grow redder at his response, but he continued. “I suppose the lucky item I gave you provided the most favorable outcome for the day.” You only nod as you processed everything that just happened in a few moments, and both of you went quiet again.

“...”

“So…”

“... I’m not sure what to do next,” Midorima frowns. “I wasn’t prepared for this particular situation, nanodayo.” You only smile at his own flusters.

“Well…” you say. “We could date, but I don’t think that’s important right now, considering that we still have to focus on school… I mean unless you want to, then we can try to make it work?”

“Ahem, while I do think these things are quite frivolous,” he says. “I suppose we can learn to balance our relationship with other aspects of our lives accordingly.”

“I would like that,” you smile, walking to approach closer to Midorima. “Could we… um, hold hands? If you’re not into that though, that’s okay.” He says nothing in response but his hand slowly reaches out for your own to gently clasp, and closes his eyes in bliss before he opens them to look at you.

“... I must go to practice soon. It’s almost time.”

“I see,” you mumble. “If that’s the case, I’ll be inside the library to cram in extra lectures.” You pull your hand away to separate, but he holds you tighter. “Midorima?”

“... I’ll walk you there, nanodayo.” He peers over your face to gauge any objections on your end, but when he finds none, he gently tugs you along as you both walk to the building next-door.

“I never knew you were into hand-holding.”

“N-Not really,” he quietly says, his ears turning red.

“Actually,” you say, bringing Midorima’s attention back to you in light of the topic change. “I need to thank Takao tomorrow… he’s the one who pushed me to confess.”

“Hmph,” he scoffs. “I do suppose that the idiot has some merits to his words.”

“I do now see what he means when he keeps insisting that we’re too alike in personality and preferences.”

“That just means we’re more compatible than what fate initially predicted, nanodayo.”

“You checked the horoscopes for relationship compatibility? Never would I have thought that such things occupied your mind, Midorima…”

“Urk—That’s…”

#knb x reader #knb #knb scenarios #knb fic #knb fics #midorima x reader #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou x reader #knb fluff #100 followers #100 follower milestone

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tanakavox · 3 years

Text

A look into the multiverse chapter 8 SAOA

Many thanks to my friend friend @bssaz97 for his work on the reactions. And TheGoldenBoy2188 for the strict for SAOA making writing easy. The next reaction will be a suprise so stay tune.

Amidst the streets of Mantle, Whitley Schnee walked towards a destination while wearing a disguise consisting of a coat, scarf, shaded glasses, and a flat cap. He had a mission and he would not waste this opportunity!

It was not every day that he could simply leave the manor without Father's permission or notice so he needed to be quick but not noticeable. He had waited months for this day to arrive. Whitley had pre-ordered the latest MMO game of his favorite game series a week before the initial release date and had come to pick it up. Having connections in the right places certainly did have its benefits. The only downside was he had to acquire his prize somewhere outside of his father's notice. So what other place to go than Atlas's sister kingdom.

Outside of his notice, a young white haired faunus woman with sheep ears followed close behind him. Fiona Thyme was out picking up some food for the rest of the Happy Huntresses when she noticed an unfamiliar person walking around. She knew almost everyone on this side of Mantle, so a new person popping out of the blue was very suspicious. Normally she would have reported this back to Robyn but upon further inspection she recognized who this person was.

It was the sole son of the worst man on Remnant and the newly appointed heir of the Schnee Dust Company, Whitley Schnee! Why was he here in Mantle?! Fiona determined he was up to no good and decided to follow him. Wherever the SDC goes, trouble usually follows!

Whitley finally arrived at the destination he was seeking… the Post Office! Now all he had to do was open the door, enter the establishment aaaaaand- stare dumbfounded as the inside of this place was a theatre.

"What the-? This isn't the post office. Where am I?!" Whitley shouted at no one in particular.

"Ah-ha! Caught you right where I- Huh? Where the hell? This isn't the post office!" Fiona also dumbfounded.

"Whitley?" Both Weiss and Winter stated in a mix of shock and disbelief at seeing their little brother. Maybe some hostility on Weiss part.

"Weiss? Winter? How-?"

"What the hell is this?!" A loud female voice shouted as four more people arrived out of nowhere. Consisting of two normal sized humans, a bunny faunus and a very large man.

"Coco/Velvet/Fox/Yatsuhashi!" Teams RWBY and JNR said collectively.

"Oh hello everyone! This… is a surprise! When did you get to Vacuo?" Velvet asked the group.

Fiona turned towards the new strangers, "Vacuo? What are you talking about? You're all in Mantle?"

"I'm most certain we're in Vacuo at the time." Yatsu spoke.

"You are in neither at the moment." Ozpin spoke up.

"What the- Teach? Weren't you supposed to be dead?!" Coco confusingly points out.

"I believe an explanation is in order."

*One short but informative explanation later*

"Wait so we were brought here to watch… alternate realities?" Fiona says after she and all the new arrivals had been told everything about the theater.

"We call them viewings but yeah pretty much." Ruby said.

"Hold on, I can understand why all of you were brought here, seeing as you all are huntsmen and huntresses. But that doesn't explain why I'm here." Whitley, having taken off his disguise.

"A great question indeed." Weiss mutters.

"I think I have a theory." Blake stepped forward. "So far now, I've noticed that the people who are here have at least some involvement in the viewings that we have been seeing. Remember that one viewing we saw of Whitley being stuck inside a video game?"

"I was stuck in a video game?"

"Also if you die in the game you die for real." Nora added.

Whitley's eyes widened at the implications.

"Well you're still stuck as far as we know. But apparently you're very good at the game so you might be fine." Jaune clarifies. Slightly feeling guilty that his alternate is the one who traps him there.

"Oh joy, now I'm trapped inside a place against my will in two realities!" Whitley throws his hands in frustration.

"Oh boo hoo! Is the rich boy gonna cry because nothings going his way today?" Fiona says in a mocking tone.

"Oh I'm sure you would know so much about crying and complaining about trivial things, thief." He shot back at Fiona.

"At least I think about the people of Mantle! When was the last time you thought of someone outside of yourself, Schnee!" Fiona retorted.

Winter sensing that this conversation was going nowhere stepped in between her brother and the happy huntress.

"Enough! None of us came here by choice so let's just stop this pointless arguing and move on."

Fiona huffed, "I couldn't agree more." She stomped away from the two siblings and found herself a seat in the theater.

Winter sighed, "It may not be ideal but as long as you are here Whitley, I would just suggest sitting tight and wait until you or all of us are able to leave this place."

"Hmph, very well. Thank you sister, it almost sounds like you care." Whitley took his leave and found a seat that was about four seats away from Weiss's team.

"Isn't there anywhere else you want to sit," Weiss practically hisses.

"Oh but Weiss it's the only seat that's close enough to you." Whitley affirmed.

Weiss groans in frustration, 'Hopefully it's only for one viewing…'

An acoustic guitar plays in the background as a montage of the events of and post-Episode 1 appears on the screen and a narrator began to talk.

" A month had passed since that fateful day. When everyone's world got all twisted, leaving them stranded in a castle in the sky. Since then, 2000 poor souls came to an abrupt and tragic end. Some by bad luck, others by sheer stupidity. I mean, really. Why would you just stand in fire? Anyways, that didn't bother The Kid none. He only cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Himself. 'Cuz in a game of life or death, you either live... or you die."

The scene transitions to Shirou leaning against a wall with an annoyed look on his face.

"What?! Two thousand of the players have died already!" Ruby yelled, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Not surprising, seeing as many of them looked weak last viewing." Cinder coolly replies.

Many huntsmen and huntresses glared at the red clad woman. She paid them no mind.

"Well thank you very much Narrator, you're doing a wonderful job of explaining the total death count of this video game prison." Whitley commented dryly.

"Oh, WOW. What brilliant insight! It's so deep it loops right back around to being stupid." Shirou snarked.

"The Kid ranted at no one, it slowly dawning just how alone he truly was" Narrator continued..

Whitley's eyes narrowed, "Am I being sassed by the narrator?"

"Maybe you said something to piss them off." Fiona added.

"Wait, what was that?" Shirou asks, shocked.

"He asked the sky, like a preacher to his silent gods."

"What gods? What are you talking about?! It's all bullshit metaphors with you!"

"He cried, not knowing the difference between a simile and a metaphor. The tininess of his brain dwarfed only by the tininess of his di-"

Whitley's eyes narrowed and face twitched at how much of an annoyance this narrator was being.

Weiss was doing her best to conceal her smile but was failing and breathes out a laugh. She was enjoying the exchange that her brother was going through and found it amusing. Her team gave her a side glance while Fiona and a few others laughed at the roast session the young Schnee was being given.

"Narrator off." Shirou commands the system with an annoyed tone.

"YOUCANSILENCEMEBUTYOUCAN'TSILENCETHETRU-" The narrator got cut off.

"Dick."

"Thank gods that's over, that narrator was extremely rude." Whitley sighed thankfully now that the narrator was silenced.

Weiss and Fiona grumbled that their fun was ruined.

Fade into December 2, 2022, on a strategy meeting led by man called Diabel. He gave a big smiled out to the crow

"Hey everyone. Thank you all for coming to our little powwow. Now, I know many of you may be discouraged by the fact that 2000 people have died so far."

" WHAT?!" A player screamed

" 2000 PEOPLE ARE DEAD?!" Another screamed.

"IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN A MONTH YET!"

"OH MY GOD, WE REALLY ARE FUCKED!"

"Pretty much, sucks to be you!" Mercury laughed.

"These are the people that have to survive this game. Honestly what was blondie expecting," Emerald facepalms.

"Hey! Just because they've lost numbers doesn't mean that they have to lose hope!" Ruby glared at the two assassins.

"And I know even more of you are a little down because we haven't even cleared the First Floor yet." Diabel added, trying to keep the smile on his face.

"WE HAVEN'T?!"

"I THOUGHT WE WERE ALMOST DONE...!"

"You were saying." Cinder looked back at Ruby.

"Well…" Ruby trailed off, thinking of a way to defend these players.

Diabel's smile wavered

"Uh, you guys do know there are 100 Floors, right?"

"WHAT?!" A crowd of players yelled.

Diabels sighed a bit.

Ruby, despite her best attempts, also sighed and sat back down.

"Oh jeez, I am just making things worse. Point is, we found the Boss Room!"

The crowd gasps.

"Now, we've formulated a few strategies with some help from the beta testers-"

"BETA TESTERS?!" A voice yells out.

"Oh goddammit!" Diabel groaned argnily

A player named Kibaou jumps in.

Kibaou, what do you want? Diabel looked tired addressing this player.

"Beta testers? They're the reason we're stuck in this game!" Kibaoyu sneered

Many that heard this player's statement and quickly frowned at his blatant accusations towards these 'beta-testers.'

"This guy can't be serious, right?" Coco stated.

Dianel looked at Kibaou flatterausted at the stupidity of the statement he heard

"What?! Do you have any evidence to back that up?"

Kiabrou scoffed at the question. "Pfft! Evidence. I don't need no evidence. Isn't that right, Jesus?" He points to a player named "Jesus"

" It's pronounced "Hey-Zeus", and I don't know you."

"Wow, really selling your reasoning by having no one else to support your claim." Jaune stated while crossing his arms.

"Well, they still should have helped us newbies!" He exclaimed

"If I might interject...:" A deep voice called out.

A big muscular man gets up and comes to the stage.

Velvet taps Yatsu's arm excitedly, "Hey you're in this game too Yatsu! …oh gods you're in this game too."

"So it seems," Yatsu, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Coco lowered her shades along with a confused look. As far as she knew, Velvet was the only one who played video games on their team. Unless...

"And who the hell are you?!"

"I am known by many names.", "Closed eyed demon. The memory easer., "Hooked clawed tiger". But you? You may call me... "Velvet".

"Velvet huh? That's a... pretty masculine name." Kibaoru said adwarkley

"Shouldn't be. It's a woman's name." Velvet replied casually.

"Damn it. I had a feeling but I didn't want to be right." Coco cursed quietly while shaking her head.

"Wait, why would Yatsu have a character named after me? That doesn't- ...Oh ...oh my gods." Velvet's eyes widened at the implications, tears starting to build. That is until she felt a nudge on one of her shoulders. She turned her head and there was Yatsuhashi looking at Velvet with a gaze that said, 'It's not your fault.'

"Kay, I don't know how to talk to you."

"Good. Then you can shut up and listen. Does everyone here have this book in their inventory?"

" Yeah.

" Yes."

"Yup."

"Yeah."

" No... Wait, can I change my answer?"

Velvet/Yatsushi held up a book to show to everyone.

" This book is full of tips and strategies on how to survive this game, put together by the beta testers. Everyone read it, yet some people still died. The beta testers did everything they could."

"Yeah, that means Mace Hair has no reason to blame the beta testers!" Ruby points out.

Many of her friends nodded and Yastu's team smiled at the sound defense his alternate presented.

" Actually, I didn't read it." One player chimed up.

"Yeah, I didn't read it either."

"I skimmed it."

"OH COME ON!" Many members of the audience shouted in agitation.

"What? Didn't ANY of you read it?! It is literally a matter of life and death." Velvet exclaimed

"Well, dude. It's like 80 pages." A player pointed

"2000 people are dead!"

"THEY ARE?!"

"Again. These are the people that have to survive this game." Emerald reiterates.

Brief pause. Shirou looks shocked at their stupidity.

"I am so done with you people." Velvet mutters, walking off the stage.

" What do you mean "you people"?" A player asked a bit offended.

The Faunus in the room narrowed at their eyes at the implications made by that player.

"What do you mean, "you people"?" Fiona asks no one in particular.

Velvet and Kibaou take their seats.

Diabel continued with the meeting. "So, as Mister Hooked clawed tiger was saying, this book has some great strategies, including how to beat the First Boss, Illfang."

He clears his throat and starts reading from the guide.

"So as you enter the Boss Room, he's gonna throw wave after wave of disposable minions at you... and you must answer in kind."...?

"Uh, what?" A player asks, mirroring Diabel confusion.

Many in the audience reacted just as confused. All except Whitley, who had a good feeling where this was going.

Diabel continues

"Send the weaker players first. Good rule of thumb: If a player asks you for gold 2 seconds after meeting you, front lines."

"Ha, serves 'em right!" Kiaboru said with a laugh

"If they hijack conversations to rant about their political views, front lines."Diabel said with a smirk looking at Kiaboru.

Kibaou went pale. "Aw, shit."

"Ha! Serves you right!" Nora laughed.

"If they ask female players for pics of their boobs, front lines."

"OH BULLSHIT!" One player screamed out in rage.

"THAT'S DISCRIMINATION!" Another one howled.

"BOO!"

Many of the women in the theater frown at the way those players reacted. Winter was more than certain that those players were the type that participated in the mentioned acts the speaker spoke on.

Diabel smiles and waves them down. "Now, now, people. I think there are some valid points being made here. Now, it goes on to say when Illfang's health goes into the red, he's going to switch from his axe and buckler to something called a "Talwar". At that point we should initiate a strategy called "The Final Solution" and- I'm just gonna stop reading! Jesus, who wrote this thing?"

Shirou giggles evilly.

"Of course Whitley wrote that book." Weiss sighed.

"Why sister, it sounds like that didn't surprise you in the least." Whitley pretending to act hurt.

"Please. The manipulative tone of the text almost makes one sound too much like you." Weiss bit back.

"Well I suppose you would know." A wide smile on Whitley's face.

Weiss scoffs turning her head away from her traitorous brother.

Team R_BY and Winter watched the exchange and sighed.

"Okay, so the guide's a bust. But it'll be fine. I'll come up with a great plan for us." Diabel smiles at the crowed.

"Like what?"

" Well... we... could... Uh... Uhhhh... I'm open to suggestions."

"Woah, guys, we could- we could, you know, like, group up and-"

"And hit it 'til it DIES!" Another yelled finishing the other player sentence

"Woo, nice!"

"Yeah!"

" High five!"

The two hive five.

"Well. It's something, right?." Velvet does her best to be optimistic.

Many of the more experienced members of the theater shake their heads.

"That's... a good start. But let's hear some other suggestions."

"I'd like to hear more about this "Final Solution"." A player in a german accent piped up.

"Fuck it, group up." said Diabel said tirely.

Shirou slides down the seats towards a girl, named Fiona, who's on her own.

Fiona blinks in surprise, "Oh my gods, that's me! I'm in the game! Hey other me, stay away from the Schnee!"

"You have my condolences." Weiss says to the sheep faunus.

"So, why aren't, uh, you joining anyone's group?" Shirou asked.

"I have my reasons." She said mysterioly

" Is it because you're a girl?"

"No. It's because... I don't know how to play."

"Because you're a girl?"

Many of the females and males who enjoy video games, such as Yang, Ruby, Velvet, Nora,, Jaune, Oscar, Ren, surprisingly Mercury and Emerald, along with Fiona herself, threw questioning glares towards the current heir of the SDC. Weiss and Winter glared at him as well but for other reasons.

Whitley looks around to see all the glares directed towards him. "Why are you all looking at me? I said nothing."

"No!" Fiona snapped. "It's just... I don't know how to open the menu."

"What?" Both Fiona and Whitley asked.

"Jinx!" Nora shouts.

"What?!" Shriou looked at the girl in shock. "But you can't do anything in this game without the menu. How have you survived all month?"

Cut to Fiona holding a piece of bread. She is staring at it intensely. "HOW DO I EAT YOU?!" She screamed at it.

Many laughs were had at the poor girl's predicament, despite some of them doing their best to not do so but could not help themselves.

Fiona slowly sank into her chair, covering her face in shame. Her alternate was the utter definition of a newb player.

Back to the present.

"It's... been a challenge…" She muttered before looking at Shirou. "What about you? Why haven't you join the others?"

"Oh, lots of reasons. Mostly because they're a bunch of mouth-breathing neckbeards who think "LMAO" is how French people laugh."

" Ha ha, that's so Le Mao!" Said one player far away causing to Shirou shudder.

Whitley in the theater also shudders in disgust. If these were the people that he would have been surrounded by inside the game, then he too would have avoided them like a plague.

"Wow. You certainly... speak from the heart."

"Funny, I thought I was speaking from my mouth. But, eh, shows what I know about biology." He said with a smirk.

"No one else wanted you in their group, did they?"

"Shut up! It was mutual!"

"And who would blame me? Have you seen the players of this game? I'm honestly surprised they lived this long."

"You're just saying that 'cause no one wanted a smartass on their team." Fiona smirked.

"I'm sorry, were you speaking Menu Girl?" Whitley nonchalantly retorts.

Fiona's face grew red in embarrassment and agitation. She wanted nothing more than to raise her hand and activate her semblance right now. 'Give me a reason Schnee, I dare you.'

It cuts back to Diabel smiling and clapping his hands.

"Alright, looks like everyone's grouped up. Get plenty of rest tonight, people! We leave at noon!"

A player groans "Noon?"

"That's so early!"

Diabel sighs. "Alright. What about 1 o'clock?"

" Dude, come on!"

" God, fine! We leave at the crack of... 2:30, I guess. Lazy butts…"

"Christ, I'm gonna have to set my alarm."

Everyone in the theater did not have high expectations for these players as they would face their first challenge.

Cuts to December 3, 2022 Floor 1: Illfang's Tower, 7:30pm. Everyone's at the Boss Door and everyone except Diabel is exhausted.

"Okay, so there were a few more stairs than we realized. Apparently real life athletic ability translates into the game. Good to know." Diabel looked out to the sad sight in front of him.

"Oh, god. I can feel my lungs trying to kill me." One player whined.

" Is this sweat?!"

" I peed a little."

" Jesus, this is sad." Diabel said with a grimace.

One player vomits.

"Congrats Jaune, someone else has now become the new Vomit Boy of this viewing!" Yang exclaimed.

Jaune rolled his eyes at her attempt at making him feel better.

"Fuck it. Why don't you all just take a Cheetos and Mountain Dew break, and we'll reconvene in an hour."

1960 Batman-Esque transition with Cheetos and Mountain Dew.

" Dammit, guys! I was kidding! You weren't supposed to actually take an hour!" Dibal said in a rage."God, we've lost so much time. Let's just do this already! You all know the plan!"

Illfang jumps into the center of the room and roars. Kobolds pop in, and an error message pops up on the third one that says "Error: "Sentinel_ " not found."

Ruby and Nora laughed at the mob that got glitched.

"Alright, men!" Diabel began,"Form up and-"

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" A player screams

The armies converge on each other.

"Are they serious! You can't just go gung-ho in a boss battle!" Jaune exclaimed at the increasingly apparent, dim-witted players.

"What?! No! Goddammit guys!" Diabel begins to bark out orders. "Squad B, quit attacking the Boss and keep the Sentinels off us! C, D, stop attacking from the front! Do you even know what "flank" means?! Squad F, for fuck's sake! Stop playing Bejeweled! *Groans* Squad G, get in there and help A and B!"

"Got it!" Shirou said with a nod rushing in.

"Don't talk back to…" Diabel did a double take."l Holy shit, really?!"

"How is Whitley the most sensible minded player in this game?!" Weiss asked.

"Weiss, have you seen the other players?" Blake asked her in a deadpanned tone.

"...Yes you're right, that's actually too much of an insult." Weiss admits.

Shirou attacks a Sentinel, leaving Fiona to finish it off.

"Okay, Fiona! What you're gonna wanna do here is-"

Fiona lets out a Battle Cry and kills the Sentinel in one hit.

Fiona in the theater perked up at this display, "Oh my- I can fight! Oh thank gods I can fight!"

Shirou eyes widened in shock "Wow, I thought she was hopeless, but her technique is flawless. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's even better than I-"

"Hey Shirou! I killed the thing and now it says I have XPs! Is that bad? Am I dying?! Fiona cried out to him in fear."

Shirou rolls his eyes"Or... maybe... not."

"Miss Fiona, either your alternate is very lucky or is very out of base with technology. I can't tell which it is." Whitley stated.

"Shut up Schnee, she's trying!" Fiona defends her other self.

Illfang's health drops into the red. He snarls at the players and he tosses his weapons.

"Alright, men! This last part's gonna take careful coordination…" Diabel ran towards Illfang. "which is why I'm just gonna do it myself!"

Diabel charges his weapon art. Illfang draws his Ōdachi.

Ruby's eyes widened, "OH NO!"

Shirou looked and saw the weapon and his eyes widened calling to Diabel. "Oh shit! Diabel, look out! That's not a Talwar! It's an Ōdachi!"

"What's the difference?!" Diabel ask still running towards Illfang.

"Well, a Talwar is of Indian descent while an Ōdachi is Japanese! While both are primarily slashing weapons, the Talwar was favored by cavalrymen, as opposed to an Ōdachi which was mainly used for dick measuring!" As Shirou is talking, Illfang starts jumping off the walls.

" What's your point?!" Diabel asked impaintely.

"Well if you let me finish, I was getting to that! You see…"

Diabel gets hit by Illfang, screaming in pain.

Many of the huntsmen and huntresses in the theater either gasped in fear or looked away at the surely doomed player.

"What's happening? Did I miss something?" Fox called out.

"Oops." Shirou sheepishly said.

Illfang hits Diabel again, sending him flying.

"DIABEL!" Kibaou yelled out.

Illfang pops down in front of Kibaou and roars. A message pops up "Bonus Item: Soiled Pants". Above Kibaou

"Hey, rare drop!' A player said cheerfully.

Mercury laughed at the joke while most of the others were disgusted by the fact that that achievement was unlockable.

Shirou runs over to Diabel and holds him up.

" I was trying to say an Ōdachi's a little bit longer than a Talwar, so it'll have more reach and do a bit more damage."

"And why couldn't you say that first?" Diabel asked weakly

"Yeah you dummy! You almost might've killed him!" Ruby cries out.

Whitley was actually taken aback by that statement. Sure he had moments of pride and arrogance, sometimes he looked down on people but he didn't believe he would ever intentionally kill someone.

" I like to think of myself as a teacher. Anyway, drink this."

Shirou tries to give Diabel a healing potion but he stopped Shirou shaking his head.

"No. It's better this way. I just can't do it anymore. I had such high hopes at first. But now? Our best player is a girl who thinks DPS is some kind of sex thing." Both turned to glance to Fiona.

"I know. It's weird, right?"

Fiona sulked more into her chair.

"You're clearly not like the rest of them. How do you stand it, Shirou? Where do you draw your strength?" Diabel look at Shirou like a sage.

Shirou sigh and drops his wisdom onto him. "I've been playing MMO's a long time, Diabel, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that lions do not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Just take that little voice in your head that tells you to be tactful and understanding... and shoot it. Shoot it in the goddamn face."

" You are so wise. If only I'd met you sooner. Perhaps, things would have been different. You must lead them now. Show them this game can be beaten." Diabel let's go of Shirou wrist.

Weiss was taken aback that this man was actually willing to place trust in this alternate of her brother. This stranger who barely even knows him placed the lives of all the players into his hands. Much like how she tried to trust Whitley once… this caused a bitter frown to grow on her face in recollection. Even if this was a different version of him, it was still Whitley in her eyes.

Shirou smiles fondly at Diabel. "Another life... in another time... I think we could have been friends."

"I... doubt it." Diabel gasps out before turning to shattered glass, dying.

" Well fuck you, too!" Shirou said angrily his smile dropping into a frown.

Fiona slips in by Shirou's side and began to lay out a plan.

"Alright, Shirou. Here's what we'll do. One counters his blows to knock him off balance and the other switches in to attack. Rinse. Repeat. Victory."

Shirou looked at her with one eye. "You came up with that, but you can't open a menu."

"Shut up!" Fiona cried out.

Illfang roars and they take off running toward him.

"Alright, so you counter and I'll attack!" Shirou yelled to Fiona.

"What? No, it's my plan! I should attack!" Fiona yelled back.

"Fine, just get ready!"

Shirou makes a battle cry and counters Illfang's attack.

"SWITCH!"

Fiona moves in and gets her cloak destroyed by Illfang before attacking revealing white curly hair and sheep ears.

" See? You almost got yourself killed! I'll attack him!" Shirou yelled again and began to attack Illfang.

"Oh, that was a fluke, and you know it! He's mine!" Fiona yelled back.

Fiona attacks Illfang.

"Oh shit. They're actually giving that boss the work!" Coco called out.

"He's mine!" Shirou yelled.

Shirou blocks Illfang's next attack, but Fiona attacks him before Shirou can do so himself.:

"Mine!" Fiona screams

"NO! HE'S! MIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

Shirou slices Illfang and he explodes. Everyone is stunned. Lame party kazoo sound effect and a banner with the word "CONGRATULATION" appears.

"Yeah!" A player cheer.

This caused almost everyone in the audience to laugh. Despite the dark humor of it all, it was still pretty hilarious.

"What happened? Did they win?" Fox asks

"Oh yes, I'm sorry Fox! They beat the boss and a victory banner came out."

"...heh." Fox chuckled.

Shirou is panting. He gets an item as a reward for defeating the Boss.

"Congratulations!" Velvet said, patting him on the back. "That was even more impressive than that cat that learned to play."

Cut to a player with a cat's head, with another player staring at it.

"Meow."

"Huh what did you know?" Yang replied.

"Oh my god! You guys can see it too?! So I'm not crazy! Isn't that great, Jesus?!" We see things from the players' perceptive, with a giant hallucination of Jesus Christ looming over the crowd.

"That's right, Jeffrey. Now... kill them all." Jesus said, his voice growing darker.

"As you command, my Lord." Jeffrey whispered.

"Somethings very wrong with that guy." Qrow states.

"I honestly agree with you, Branwen… Blegh! That left a horrible taste in my mouth." Winter stated.

Cut back to Velvet talking to Shirou. The other players are applauding his victory.

"You've led us to victory, Shirou. These men and I will follow you to hell itself. Now... address your people." Velvet is smiling and pushing Shirou to the crowd.

Shirou gets up and smirks. "I always knew this day would come. Ahem. Fellow gamers! We have traveled far and up many stairs to get to this point. Fighting side by side, noobs, and leets, alike. I'd like to take a moment to say that I couldn't have done it without the help of each and every one of you."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to say-" Velvet was cut off when Shirou counties.

"Of course, I'm not a liar, so I'm not gonna say any of that."

"Oh shit."

"I thought as much." Weiss states.

Shirou grins look at the group. "I mean, really. I could've done this whole Boss Fight myself. But to be fair, I guess you did absorb a bit of damage for me, which was nice. You were an adequate meat shield, and no one can ever take that away from you."

"Fuck. Fuck! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Velvet started to say.

"So for those of you who came in late, and that one guy playing Bejeweled back there... shoot for the stars... it'll make it more fun when I kick you back into the dirt."

"You're not better than us!" Kiaboru said.

"Yeah! What makes you think you're so cool?!" Nora shouts to the screen.

Shirou equips the coat he got for beating Illfang and smugly looks at the group."My sweet-ass coat begs to differ."

"Dammit, he's got us there." one player muttered.

Shirou ascends the stairs out of the Boss Room. Fiona follows him and grabs him by the shoulder. "Shirou, wait!"

Those in the audience looked on at Fiona's alternate in hope. Surely she could turn him around after their excellent display of partnership.

"I want half." She said, staring at him blankly.

That hope was quickly squashed, shot at, and finally burned to death via gasoline and cracking a fire dust crystal.

Shirou turns to her confused. " I'm... sorry. What?!"

"I want half the coat. I did half the work, I should get half the coat." Fiona explain and extends her hand for him give it to her.

"No! It's not fabric I can cut! It's just a bunch of 1s and 0s!" Shirou was getting frustrated.

"Fine, then give me the 1s."

" Fuck you! I want the 1s!" He groans and open the menu. "I am not having this argument. I'm disolving this party." Shirou opens his menu and "Di-solves" their party.

"Shirou! If you walk away with my half of the coat, I will make your life a living hell!" Fiona screamed.

"You know what? Fine! I'll give you the damn coat! Just send me a trade request."

"A... what?"

Fiona's eyes widened as she watched from the theater, "No…"

Shirou grins viciously "Oh, it's quite simple really... Just open your menu." Shirou starts laughing maniacally as he walks out the doors as Fiona screams at him:"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" At him.

Outro Plays.

Fiona screams, "I can't believe the nerve of that-! GRAAAAH!"

"Can you please stop screaming! You're going to cause everyone's ears to bleed." Whitley said while using a handkerchief to rub his ears.

Fiona huffed then matched off, going to another place in the theater.

"Well that was interesting. So you all say there's other viewings where we see other worlds besides this one." Coco asked the group.

"Oh yeah, we've seen a couple worlds ourselves, but only a handful I'd say." Yang admits.

"Well as long as we're here, we might as well take time to catch up." Velvet smiled.

"Yeah, this will be great! It's almost like we're back at Beacon, right Weiss? ...Weiss?" Ruby looks beside her but noticed that her partner was not with them anymore.

In another side of the theater, the all three Schnee siblings stand together. Both of the youngest siblings look at Winter who brought them here.

Winter clears her throat, "I understand that there are some… tension between the three of us during this viewing. So I asked you both here so that we may come to terms with our situation."

Weiss scoffs, "Come to terms with him! I highly doubt that."

Whitley crosses his arms, "Yes it does seem like a lost cause Winter."

"Enough! Both of you!" Winter raised her voice causing both of her younger siblings to go rigid. "I'm not expecting you to get along or even apologize to each other at the moment. What I ask is if you two can at least act civil with one another while in the theater?"

Both Weiss and Whitley looked at each other and sneered at each other.

"Why of course I can be civil with Whitley. It is a virtue of a lady to be civil at all times." Weiss said with hidden venom.

"Quite true, but being civil is also a quality an heir of the Schnee family must cultivate as well. So I look forward to spending this immeasurable amount of time with you my sisters." Whitley said with his best presentable smile.

"Yes, how I enjoy us taking this time to reacquaint with each other." Weiss said while one of her eyes was twitching.

"Well then sister, shall we?" Whitley gestured for Weiss to go ahead of him. Almost would have been believable if one did not notice the glint in his eyes and his strained smile.

Winter watched as both Weiss and Whitley walked back to the auditorium where everyone else had remained.

"...This can only end badly."

Hope you enjoyed.

22 notes · View notes

sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group.

(Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, buried trauma, mentions of tortured and murdered children, furious Marcus.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: We learn a bit more history on the Heroics as a whole, and something Reader’s been supressing, that leads to some new developments concerning her powers.

(Again I apologise for the crossover GIF, but really Narcos just has the best ones. Also, let me know if it’s yours and I’ll credit you!)

Chapter 39

Wisconsin was getting cold this time of year, and you were frustrated. Verity had really outdone himself this time. He’d positioned himself right smack in the middle of suburbia, on Barbara Lane, in De Pere, Green bay, forcing you to take twice as many safety precautions as usual, before you could see him.

You’d asked Marcus after the first time you’d met the truth-seeker, if it wouldn’t be less dangerous and more inconspicuous for him to come to you, instead of you having to travel all over the country to find him. But Marcus had explained that he had adapted a lifestyle that meant that he was never in one place for more than two days, in order to stay ahead of any team that HQ might send out to investigate his energy-signature.

He rarely used his ability to the extent that the new and more powerful sensors could detect it, but on the few occasions when he had, he’d found himself having company some time later. Their response time varied depending on where in the country he was, and whenever he was closer to the west coast, his temporary lodgings were always significantly shorter.

Allen had been quiet for most of the journey, deep in his thoughts, but when you started getting close to your destination, the old man started talking.

“I built most of HQ, you know. The Heroic organisation.”

“Yeah, you were one of the founders, right? One of the first non-powered people to suggest that supers might need help to become actual heroes. You got them to talk to one another, start building relationships, creating the friendships that would ultimately turn them into a team.”

“It was almost impossible to get those knuckleheads to coincide. There were only four of them back then, and they all wanted the glory and heroism to themselves, fighting for the spotlight every chance they got. We really thought our efforts weren’t gonna do anything.”

“What changed it around?”

“Anita Moreno.”

“Hah… of course she did.”

“When she came along, young and determined and confident, she elbowed out their failing attempts at leadership by actually taking charge, and making them listen to reason. By way of a beat-down if necessary.”

“That, I can believe. And I’d have loved to see it.”

“She was fearless of their powers and their masculinity, their macho-bullshit. And before long, she had them training to improve their skillsets, studying the politics of the world, saying that if they were gonna insist on meddling in other cultures, then it was also their responsibility to understand what the hell they were meddling with.”

“And that’s where you took the opportunity, I’m guessing?”

“I reached out to Anita, offering financial support in creating a training-facility for the supers, a kind of recreational area, where they could play with their abilities, test themselves against each other, without risking harm to anyone. She really liked the idea, and asked me to find out if anyone else would be interested in helping them, and over time, that’s how the Heroics were born.”

“And now it’s been tainted.”

“I don’t know that it hasn’t been completely destroyed already.”

“Henry, the organisation can never be destroyed, not as long someone’s around to fight back. And you’d better believe we are.”

“What have you brought me today, Rainbow?”

A little while later, you finally stepped into the house, and Verity’s energy hit you. Since he knew you couldn’t use your power to greet him anymore, he called to you from the kitchen and you guided Allen there.

The poor man was already pale.

“Someone I really hope you’re about to tell me I can trust.”

“A founder… this is a first. Your heart is filled with love, for your family, mostly, but that also makes you susceptible to great fear. Right now, you fear what will be left of your legacy once this mess is made public. You fear that the Heroics will be shut down, and that your life’s work will go down in history as nothing but a failed experiment. You love your creation, it gives you great pride, but you fear it too. The power it’s accumulated, and how the politics have gotten more and more in control of it. But you are innocent of any crime or conspiracy. You are, at heart, a good man.”

Allen looked like he might vomit, so you helped him to sit down and brought him a glass of water.

“Who are you?”

Verity never answered that question, no matter who was asking, so you sat down next to Henry to explain.

“He’s a very special super, that you can never mention to anyone. If you do, he’ll disappear, and we’ll have no way of knowing who’s trustworthy or not.”

“He can tell the truth? I never even spoke…”

“Verity sees the truth, like a web around people. I don’t know exactly how it works, but he can see everything, past and present. Every lie and every truth of your entire existence.”

“Incredible. And really unnerving.”

“Yes, but worth it. Thanks to him we have over 120 trusted operatives working for us all over the world, and that’s not including the Heroics.”

“That’s… impressive. But I fear this enemy is going to need much greater numbers than that, to be defeated.”

“Maybe. But 89 of those operatives are supers, and that evens the odds significantly.”

“What? But… we scan for people with abilities all over the world, we would know if that many existed.”

“Not if they’d been hiding their powers. We figured that anyone who was on the Heroics radar, would most likely be on SIC’s as well, so we focused entirely on reaching out to those that we knew were hidden. And in that process, we uncovered a whole community of powered people that want nothing to do with the fame or recognition, and once they understood the stakes, they all agreed to help us. And they, in turn, are reaching out to their friends, normal and super, to join the fight. Our numbers grow every day, Henry. We can beat these assholes; we just need a little more time.”

Verity’s energy focusing on you, broke your concentration, and you turned to look at him.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Something… something in your memories.”

“If it’s my memory then why can’t you see it clearly?”

“It’s been hidden. It’s a memory you can’t see yourself.”

Your skin crawled and your heartbeat picked up, in an involuntary response to any kind of mention of your time with the mad doctor. Verity noticed.

“A painful memory. Something you don’t want to remember.”

“I don’t want to remember any of it, V.”

“Tubes, wires, machines, syringes. Your body remembers. Your cells do.”

“Pain… so much pain, your nerves remember all of it. You fought him. You bit him twice, escaped your bindings once, almost got out. He punished you for that by pouring battery-acid on your feet. He was so confident that his experiment would work that he didn’t care how much damage he caused you in the process.”

Lost in his search into your mind, Verity slowly started moving towards you, centring all his power on you, desperate to uncover everything that was hidden. You weren’t sure if he was even aware of how overbearing he was in that moment. How threatening.

He had never come across a truth he couldn’t see before, and it made him obsessive and ruthless in his pursuit of it. A part of you knew that, but your reptile brain was overcome with a sense of danger, and you backed away from him, but he followed you.

“V… please, stop.”

He didn’t even hear you.

“You’re hiding from me. I can feel the memory so clearly, wrapped in a bubble I can’t penetrate. I need to know what it is.”

He was pushing so much of his energy into your mind to try and break that bubble, that you started feeling unnaturally heavy. Your body suddenly felt like it was moving through liquid, meeting so much resistance that it exhausted you just to take a single step.

You collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe, and still he didn’t let up. He towered over you, and somewhere in the background you heard Allen trying to reason with him, but then a splitting pain shot through your head, and you passed out.

“You stay the fuck away from me, V!”

You woke up lying on the sofa in the living room, your head still throbbing and the light burning your eyes. But from what little you could make out, Verity was sitting on a chair right next to you, and it made the bear inside you wake up with full force.

You launched yourself at him, placing a hard fist at his solar plexus, and when he involuntarily crunched forwards, his face had a very abrupt meeting with your elbow.

He fell backwards, toppling the chair over and breaking it as he hit the floor, bleeding from his nose and cheek-bone.

Allen rushed into the room from the kitchen, holding a pack of ice he’d apparently been getting for you. You wobbled over to him and swiped it from his hands to put against your right temple, while Verity slowly got to his knees.

“I saw it. The memory you were hiding, I was able to break your defence the moment before you lost consciousness.”

“I don’t care.”

“He did it in front of you. He strapped children into that chair, and made you watch as he drained them. He made you watch their strength gradually leave them as the pain got to be too much. You saw the faces of at least nine of them, wordlessly begging you for help.”

“I trapped those memories away for a reason, you asshole. Just because you need the truth like a fucking addict, doesn’t mean I do!”

The images came to you as he voiced them. You remembered those faces, fifteen of them, actually. You remembered their pain, and how much you wished that you could have borne it for them. How gladly you’d have sacrificed yourself for them, if you could have.

That was why your powers had manifested into what they did. That was why you couldn’t heal yourself, because in that time and place, you truly didn’t care if you died.

You slumped against the nearest wall and slowly allowed yourself to sink to the floor. Your head was still throbbing, and you were beyond angry.

“You do need to know this.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me! You don’t get to torture me, V, that’s what the fucking bad guys do!!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that is as close to a god damned lie as you’ve ever gotten! You don’t give a shit if your powers hurt me, as long as you get your fucking truth. If you’re sorry about anything, it’s that I’m not grateful for your efforts. Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong!”

He didn’t speak. He just sat there, looking as unbothered about everything as he always did.

“Allen, get me the hell out of here.”

“Hermosa? What’s wrong?”

You took a cab from the airport, and fell asleep about halfway home. The driver had a calm and rhythmic manner that soothed you, and he was listening to John Williams play the Concierto de Aranjuez, with the soft guitar notes making your frayed mind drift away to a warm and sunny Spain.

He woke you by gently announcing that you’d arrived at your destination, and you paid him and thanked him for his kindness, before getting out and walking towards the gate in the fence. Your legs felt like lead.

You could hear Marcus and Missy through the front door as you approached it, ingulfed in playing some boardgame, and you stopped and just listened to them for a while, leaning heavily against the door.

Your darling Missy, the same age as several of those children. But alive and happy and such a wonderful person already.

And Marcus. Your reason for living. The one that saved you, and kept saving you, despite the darkness that accompanied you.

You hadn’t kept your word about checking in with him, so when you texted him while you were waiting at the airport in Green Bay, he’d been furious at first, wanting to know why he hadn’t heard from you in almost five hours. But he’d quickly calmed as you’d simply reminded him that since he was hearing from you now, you were obviously okay, and you’d tell him everything when you saw him.

But now, standing behind that door, you didn’t want to tell him. You didn’t want to talk about it, and you didn’t want to burden him with knowing it. But you also knew that he’d see it on your face the moment you walked in. You were too tired and in too much pain still, to even try and keep up any appearances.

You took a breath, and walked inside. Marcus was on his feet the moment the door swung open, and he swept you into a tight hug as soon as he got to you, but the mildness of your response immediately had him worried.

“Could you just keep your voice down a bit, please. My head’s killing me.”

“Where you in a fight?”

He looked closer at you upon hearing that, and he realised that you were actually in terrible shape. He swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, while asking Missy to come and help him prepare a bath for you.

She went straight to the bathroom and turned on the taps, and you could hear her going into the cabinets to pull out fresh towels.

In the meantime, Marcus was helping you out of your clothes, and noticed a big black bruise on your elbow.

“No… just felt cornered.”

“By who?”

“...Verity.”

His whole posture changed, and you could feel a sudden rage emanating from him.

“Tell me what he did.”

“I’m too tired right now…”

“Querida, look at me. Tell me.”

“He… broke into the memories I’d hidden… the one’s he couldn’t see before.”

“The one’s Prince had altered?”

“No… the one’s I buried. The one’s that were too horrible… He forced them out, and now my head feels like it’s breaking apart.”

“Why would he hurt you like that?”

He picked you up again and moved you into the bathroom. Missy only stayed until the tub was full and she could close the taps, and then she hugged you gently and slipped out of the room.

Marcus took the last of your clothes off before lowering you into the warm water, and when you asked him to join you, he did, holding you close and softly stroking your skin under the water.

“He can’t stand lies, and apparently that applies to secrets as well. He just had to know; consequences be damned.”

“He’ll regret that tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother. He won’t admit to any wrong-doing. And we still need him.”

“I don’t give a fuck. The only reason I agreed to let you go was because I thought you’d be safe with him.”

“I don’t have anymore secrets for him to try and uncover now. So, technically I will be, from now on. Not that I ever wanna see him again.”

“You won’t have to. I’ll deal with him.”

“We’re still at war, honey. We’re gonna have to do a lot of things we’d rather not.”

“Fuck the war, I’ll turn my back on the whole damned thing and take you to live with the fucking penguins if that’s what it takes. I’m so tired of seeing you in pain!”

“Oh, please, keep your voice down…”

“Sorry.”

You sat in silence for a while, as the warm water started to open up your capillaries, easing your headache a bit.

“Are you gonna tell me?”

You knew what he was asking, and you really wanted to say no, but you also knew that you needed to tell him.

“Prince made me… he made me watch.”

The tears burned in your eyes, and you tried to chase the memories away, to lock them back into that little bubble where they couldn’t hurt you. But it was too late.

“Watch what?”

You didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt as though that would somehow solidify the images into reality, making them truly inescapable. He could feel your resistance, and tried to soothe you with his current, but it wasn’t enough this time.

“The… ch-children. He made me… watch them die.”

“Oh, my god…”

The next morning you felt better. The headache had eased with some real sleep and you were starting to feel human again. Marcus was right next to you, his arms securely wrapped around you while he slept, but he stirred the moment you did. It was still early enough that your monday alarms hadn’t gone off yet.

You felt him swallow repeatedly against the bile and grief that surged up in his throat as he realised what you were saying. He’d seen the lab. The extraction chair. And the freshest bodies that Prince hadn’t had time to get rid off before they found his lair. He’d seen how much pain they’d been in as they died, evident in their faces even after death.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t need him to, you just needed him to hold you, and he did.

“Good morning, hermosa. Did you sleep okay?”

“Morning. Yeah, actually I did.”

“No bad dreams?”

“I think my headache might have made that impossible. It’s gone now, though.”

“Good. How do you feel about breakfast?”

“I’m looking forward to it. I still haven’t eaten in our kitchen yet.”

“Right. Eggs and toast?”

“Please.”

You went about your morning toilet and wash, before heading out to the kitchen together. Missy was already at the island, having cereal and flipping through a schoolbook, and since Marcus was already pulling out the frying pan to get started on the eggs, you sat down with her, before the school bus would get there.

“Morning, angel. Test today?”

“Yup. Maths. I got it, though.”

“Oh, I believe that, you’re good at maths. Break a leg anyway.”

“Thanks, alma. I’m aiming for top scores.”

“I like your aim.”

“Don’t worry, preciosa, her protection is in place.”

Marcus had just sat down a plate in front of you when the bus honked, and Missy ran out the door while shouting she loved both of you.

You kept staring at the closed door after she’d disappeared through it, and Marcus knew what you were thinking.

“I know, but after yesterday… I just feel a bit more protective than usual.”

“That’s entirely understandable, but please try not to stress over it. You have another one to protect as well.”

“Right… Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, just breathe and eat calmly.”

“So, Allen got the all clear, I assume. Does that mean he’s in?”

You dug into the food and it was delicious. So much better than the airport food you’d eaten all day yesterday, even though it was just scrambled eggs and perfectly roasted toast, with those tomatoes on the side, that he’d promised you the day before.

Marcus let you finish before he started talking again.

“Yeah, he’s gonna coordinate for us at HQ, so we can keep our attention on the rest of the country, and world.”

“Is he okay?”

“Shaken, for numerous reasons, but determined to get his lives work back in order. He told me about the early days, and how he and your mom whipped the first supers into heroes.”

“Really? Mom doesn’t talk about those days much. She’s told me a lot about my father, but not that much about herself.”

“Well, she seems to have been a tour de force all her life, from what Allen described. And after what you’ve told me about your dad, I can see why he would’ve fallen for her. They were a good match.”

“She always says that the best thing about him was how good he was at driving her up the walls, because it forced her to really look at him.”

“I see what she means.”

“I don’t drive you up the walls. Do I?”

“Mostly just in the mornings, when you know I’m not susceptible to ‘fun’, but other than that, you’re pretty well behaved.”

“Oh, no, the mornings don’t count.”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because your morning mood is way too amusing not to take advantage of.”

“Hey! That is so not fair, I can’t help it that my brain just won’t start on all cylinders at once. And, for the record, this is the second morning in a row that I haven’t been cranky first thing.”

His whole face lit up in a dazzling smile at that.

“Wow. That’s more than just a record, babe, that’s almost worthy of a mention on CNN.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! How could you do that to her?! I have always been your friend, protected you, guided you, helped you any way I could… and you almost kill my wife!!”

A voice came from the living room, and with the way the house was designed, about half of that space was visible from the kitchen, while the other half was hidden behind the dining room.

He didn’t need to step into view from behind the wall that separated the two areas, for either of you to know who it was. The truth-seeker had a very recognisable tone and rhythm of speech. But when he did appear, you couldn’t help yourself from getting out of your chair and taking a few steps back towards the kitchen counter, needing as much space between you as possible.

Marcus, on the other hand, turned positively feral. He rushed Verity and wrestled him to the floor, while screaming at him.

“I would never have let her come to any harm.”

You’d never seen him angry like this. Usually he internalised it, afraid to let it loose because of what his powers might do, but this was more than anger. He felt betrayed by one of his oldest friends, and it enraged him in a way that didn’t even involve his powers.

He had Verity pinned on the floor and was sitting on top of him with his hands around his neck, every muscle in his body was tensed to the breaking-point and there where visible veins pulsing in his face, neck and arms.

“Are you seriously fucking lying to me right now?! You did harm her, you ignorant piece of shit! Just because she’s the strongest fucking person you’ve ever met, doesn’t mean you can’t hurt her! She could barely even walk!”

“But she’s not damaged. Her mind is intact.”

“I don’t believe this…I don��t fucking believe it!”

He got off of Verity and dragged him up to standing before shoving him down on the nearest chair, still keeping himself in between you and the trespasser. He paced in front of him while he continued to rail at him.

“Are you seriously telling me, that you don’t know the difference between physically harming someone, and hurting them? How is that even possible, with all the crap you went through as a kid? How do you not know the difference?!”

“It was a memory. Hiding them away only ever hurts you, I was trying to help her.”

“Did you see the fucking memory?!”

“Yes.”

“Tell me exactly how seeing those faces for the rest of her life is gonna help her!”

“It already has.”

His eyes shifted to yours, and you instinctively tried to back away further.

“That memory has already made you understand why you have the powers you do.”

His energy flowed through you, and it made you feel sick. You closed your eyes in a useless attempt to keep him out, but you felt him explore your mind again, bringing those images to the forefront of your thoughts.

“Seeing their suffering solidified everything that you are. Through all his torture and experiments, all you wanted was to live. But for them… you wanted to die. You wanted to exchange your life for theirs. That’s your true strength – your armour and your weapon. Look at their faces, Rain. See them and know who you are.”

“You think that just because you know the truth, you understand everything? Do you think you know how this feels? Do you think you have any idea how much this hurts me? Do you not even see how you’re manipulating me?”

Your blood suddenly boiled with fury. Who was he to command your thoughts? To impose his perspective on you? This man that had hurt you so badly, only to uncover a truth he had no right to.

The entire house shook as your powers awoke with a vengeance. You snapped your eyes back open just as Marcus turned back to look at you, realising what was happening.

But you loved this house, you weren’t gonna put a single fucking dent on it.

Reaching into that special place inside of you, where you’d learned you could find that sparkling dust, you drew it out and gathered it in large quantities on the floor in front of Verity. Then you allowed your mind to fill with the images of those innocent children, in their dying moments, and transferred those images into the dust.

Fifteen lifelike sculptures appeared in the sparkles, perfect re-creations of the dead and long forgotten sacrifices, that Verity had never met, never known, and yet felt he had the right to use like string-puppets.

He had the audacity to smile at your creations.

His smile faded as you spoke, but he made no attempt to apologise.

“You’re using my pain to force my hand. You know that my powers hurt me, and you force me to use them anyway. And for what? To try and prove you were right?”

“No. If anything, my efforts should tell you exactly how much we need your powers in this war. You asked me to help you win it. That’s all I’m doing.”

“And if our baby dies because of it, that’s just another sacrifice for the greater good?!”

The sculptures collapsed into mere piles on the floor, and you glared at him furiously, daring him to answer you.

“I don’t believe your baby will be harmed by your abilities.”

“Your beliefs are of no fucking relevance to me. Tell me if you would care… at all… if another child had to die in order for us to win this war?”

He paused, but not to consider his answer, only how you would react to it.

“No. I wouldn’t care. Wars kill people, of all ages, it doesn’t discriminate. Many more will die before it’s over, and if we’re going to be outraged over each and every one of them, then we won’t have time to fight.”

Marcus closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“That’s not the point, V. The point is that we only win if we still care. If we stop caring about life and suffering, then we might as well join the assholes. Can’t you see that?”

“I haven’t lived like you have, Marcus. Caring has never been a luxury I’ve been able to enjoy. I have nothing. No possessions, no family, one person I would call a friend, and whom, despite my best efforts, I do care about.”

“Then it should matter to you whether or not my family is safe and well.”

“It does, and they are. When I say that I don’t believe that your wife’s powers will harm your child, I’m not just guessing. I can see your powers, Rain, the core of them. And while they do damage you a little bit every time you use them, I don’t believe that that damage actually harms you. I believe it slowly changes you.”

“Changes me… Why? Into what?”

“I couldn’t say for sure, but I don’t think it’s that kind of change. I think it’s simply trying to make you stronger, physically. As in, superhumanly strong. Invincible. And if anyone’s body could – it’d be yours.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys

@blueeyesatnight

@hrk-fic-recs

@strawberryperegrine

@lucrezia-thoughts

@computeringturtle

@sarahjkl82-blog

@giselatropicana

@ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

39 notes · View notes

opes-magnas · 3 years

Text

『 as lonely as time can get. 』

It’s finally here!! I’m a terribly slow writer, and am really thankful to all those who waited for this! Hopefully you enjoy. Thank you so much to @hamjjy, @kaavijournals and Lady L for beta reading this, you guys are the best!

Listen to this playlist here for the best experience!

tw: cursing, body sensitivity, very subtle idea of anxiety and toxic relationships are portrayed.

~calypso <3

I. the moon can't shine on her own.

She looks serene tonight - high up in the night sky, not a single star to accompany her. Does the moon feel lonely like that? Does she ever need a warm hug? Perhaps she gets one from the sun, and he accompanies her all time. Does the sun shine for her? So that the world can see her beauty? Perhaps so. When she can't see him, she turns bloody red; she seems disturbed. Hurt. Lost. Her fury always frightened the humans. It made them shiver inside their homes, praying to see the familiar ball of light rise from the east to calm her down. Perhaps it is better if they could only see her beauty. But does that mean the sun shines, not to show her beauty, but to protect the humans from her true self? Perhaps so.

The sun and the moon are a pair. And they will continue to be.

As long as the moon can't shine on her own.

Let's stop thinking, Luna.

The moon seems lonely.

I look up at the clock. A red, metallic light tells me its 3:48 am, 3rd April. Great, now I can have four shots of espresso for breakfast. Thank you, oh great mind, for deciding that we needed to have that conversation earlier. I sit up on the bed and rub my eyes. The curtain flutters from the soft wind blowing in through the window. Cicadas fill up the silence as I look at the full moon illuminating my room another time. Oh, how I hate the moon. What a hypocrite. I look away, and my eyes find the pile of open textbooks and spark notes I abandoned. A small smile creeps up my face. At least I'll ace that History test tomorrow. I could imagine the Boba Tea reward from Leo in my hands already. Leo. The annoying kid next door who's been stuck with me since I was five. Don't worry, though. I don't like him. Not anymore. He made it extremely clear that I was 'a size too big' for him. Then why do I still hang out with him? Short answer - I beat him up, he apologized. I shall offer no elaboration. Still, a lump forms in my throat. And maybe because he wasn't completely wrong.

I get up to go grab a glass of water. Mochi is lying in her bed in the hallway. This is the first time she didn't stir awake when I thumped across the room. The poor fluffball of a cat is probably very tired from the bath I forced her into in the evening.

You need to lose a few pounds anyways, Luna. Get rid of those love handles. Maybe some fat on your back too. That'll make people find you more approachable.

It isn't toxic if it's true, right?

That night, I decide that my glass is half-empty rather than full, and go back to bed. Suddenly, Mochi wakes up and runs into my room. She snuggles in and throws her paws on my hair like it's her property. I choose to oblige the demon for today.

The last thing I see before sleep lures me is the clock gleaming '3:59 am'.

/////-----

It's too warm in my blanket. I almost want to peel my skin off. I need to get sleep, I have a test soo- I jolt awake. Mochi is no longer next to me. I assume she's back in the comfort of her bed, considering the temperature in the room. I let out a groan as my hand outstretches to the switchboard. After a few terrible attempts, I finally turn on the ceiling fan. As sleep threatens to take me again, I see that it's still dark out and the moon looks just as annoying as it did earlier, its ever luminant light breaking down the walls of my privacy. My eyes turn to the direction of the clock- 3:48 am, 3rd April. Huh, weird. I realize I must have had one of those five-minute, extra strength-giving, amazing nap- Wait why does the clock say it's 3:48 am?

I grab my phone. The sudden light blinds me for a second, and through squinted eyes I see 3:49 am on the screen. Huh, really weird. Wasn't I awake just now - err, earlier? Wait what? I realize I make no sense, maybe I just read the time wrong the first time. My brain is repeating the features of the Hammurabi Code, my drowsy eyes are drooping, and I meet slumber once more.

I barely feel Mochi slipping back into my blanket.

/////-----

I wake up in wonder why my alarm hasn't rung yet. The room is still dark, the moon stares at me curiously. Give me some privacy, moon. My eyes turn towards the clock for the third time this night- 3:46 am, 3rd April. Bullshit. I've been asleep for hours now; I won't need those four espresso shots for breakfast anymore. My tongue clicks involuntarily. Is this some sort of a stupid prank? Leo is definitely behind this, I'm going to hunt that dipshit down.

Come to your senses, Luna. The universe cannot prank you. That's impossible. And stupid.

I grab my phone again. An attempt in vain, I realize, when I see the screen displaying the same time. I text Leo.

| loser |

you (3:46 am, 03.04.2021): you awake? (read)

loser (3:48 am, 03.04.2021): no

A chill goes down my spine. Did the just relive 3:38 am? I decide to call Leo. Two rings in, I hear a familiar voice, 'I said I wasn't awake.' He sounds tired, voice raspy and strained. You'd think he'd just woken up from the but he's the sort of person who thinks sleep is for the weak. 'Yeah no shit, Sherlock. I'm speaking to your alter ego, Thomas.', I reply.

He decides to ignore my bad retaliation, and saves me from the embarrassment. 'Why is my star pupil awake at 3 in the morning? Has she forgotten about the test she will help me cheat tomorrow?', he asks. Ah, this freeloader. I'm gonna kick his ass. My hands move frantically in the air out of annoyance, 'I am not helping you with anything!', I scream-shout into the phone, afraid I'll wake Mochi up in the hallway. She's a bigger annoyance than Leo; no one in the universe has energy to deal with a grumpy Mochi.

'Honey, you love me.'

'You're being delusional.', I deadpan.

'Is my chubby baby irritated?', he says in a fake cooing voice. And that got me.

'Leo, I did not call you at 3 in the fucking morning for you to put me down.'

The other side of the line immediately goes silent. Silence that reminded me of the last time this happened. Silence between the two of us on a Boba Tea study session in the park after an argument, the only sound being the pages of my sociology textbook being turned, and of the sound of baby birds in a nest nearby. Though I know that Leo meant it as a term of endearment, I couldn't believe he wouldn't ever, well, consider me more than just a friend because of it. A few seconds (sometimes minutes) pass before -

'I'm sorry, Lunie, you know I don't mean it,'

Another apology.

I sigh. I'm tired of this conversation again. I'm tired of having to deal with the same problem again. I'm tired of people putting me down. I'm tired of blaming myself. I'm tired of trying to look pretty. I'm tired of Leo. I'm tired of me. I'm tired of another heartbreak. I know his apology is genuine. I know he doesn't mean it. I know he's just being the Leo he always is. But somehow his words still continue to haunt me. Maybe it's because it's coming from someone who means to me the most, coming from someone who brightens me up, like the sun does to the moon. Then why am I the only one taking it seriously? Why am I trying to fit into someone else's standards? Why am I so painfully aware of everything but still choosing to be blind?

Why am I not able to love myself even though I want to?

'Luna? You there?', his voice breaks me from my train of thought. Weirdly, he sounds quite scared. 'I didn't realize how much it bothers you, I swear I won-'

Mochi jumps onto the bed and snuggles into my head again, paws in a similar place in my hair. A weird sense of Deja vu washes over me again. And then-

『 pop! the world has reset.』

My eyes opened in fear as a gasp escapes my mouth. I'm sitting on my bed, trying to comprehend what just happened. The curtains flutter with the wind blowing by. The moon stares in curiosity. My phone's on the bedside table. The clock gleams with a bright '3:01 am' displayed on it. And the problem is that I wasn't dreaming, and I wasn't mistaking the time either.

I'm in a time loop.

II. a tub fills with water only to spill it.

I fucking hate whoever wrote Groundhog Day.

Like who decided that? Who decided to say 'Hey, let's make a movie based on time loops!'? 'Let's make a dude live the same day all over again till he gets it right! Let's make him really happy, then really sad!'

Son, I'm this close to pulling an Ides of March on you.

I seem to be looping every hour, more specifically from three in the morning to four. Five hours have passed by, but my clock tells me it's precisely 3:18 am. Great. My dearly detested friend, the moon, is my only companion in this war with time (sorry Mochi). In the five hours that should have gone by, I have accomplished the following:

Two and a half hours of sleep - though I wake up when the clock resets.

Half an hour of revision for that History test I need to write after I get out of this shit.

Thirty minutes of planning a workout, Fifteen minutes of Yoga.

Five minutes of trash talking the moon, Ten minutes of dealing with grumpy Mochi who woke up as I exercised.

Thirty minutes of wondering if Leo's looping with me, and

Half an hour of figuring out what went wrong, and how to make the night perfect.

I don't know how much longer I'll be able to remember anymore. I've tried everything - making notes, scribbling on the wall, writing on myself, engraving things on desk - but none of them seem to make it through when the loop resets. I'm too tired to talk to Leo, knowing very well that he would definitely not believe me. And partly because I'm afraid I'll lose my temper and get hurt again. I'm afraid I'll end up being the insecure bad guy, and he doesn't deserve that. He deserves someone better. Someone who's prettier, kinder and happier. Not telling him for the time being also meant that I'll never find out if he was looping with me. But that probably isn't the case, the universe is cruel for a reason. This is perhaps its punishment for me. I must go through this alone. No one's ever been by my side anyways.

I'm as lonely as the moon.

/////-----

Another few hours pass. The pop between every reset scares me lesser and lesser. But my desperation to return back to normal is growing. I've been trying to figure out what went wrong for the past hour in the neighbourhood park. The cold air perfectly paired up with the mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hands. Was it me staying awake this long? Should I have just gone to sleep? There must have been something I did wrong that hour. My heart wishes to call Leo and confide in him. And the more time goes by, the more my mind wishes to oblige to that crazy request.

I pull out my phone, which gleams a bright '3:58 am'. It's almost time for the reset. In two minutes, I'll be magically transported back to my bed. I sigh. I can't take living the same hour again. The hour grips my sanity like it is a play toy. I waste another countless moment wondering where I went wrong.

『 pop! the world has reset.』

Well, I guess there's no place like home. I wonder if Mochi was worried the previous hour when she didn't find me in the bed. Do cats feel worry for their owners? Does Mochi care for me? What kind of a disgusting ship is this? Cringe, cringe, cringe. Shut up, Luna. I bury my nonsensical idea of my cat showing me love for once in the deep pits of my mind, and pretend I never thought of such blasphemy. I shift under my blankets, and decide to sleep through this hour, foolishly hoping that the reset would never take place if I was never awake, though I woke up when the clock reset each time earlier. My eyes look at the clock - 3:05 am.

That's when doorbell suddenly rang. I launch up in surprise. This didn't happen before. My heart begins to pound extremely hard, my head hazed in confusion. I run towards the door as quickly as possible stirring Mochi awake in the process, and fling it open.

It's Leo. And he's in tears.

His eyes are filled with fear, breath unsteady. Beads of sweat line his neck as he tries to get words out. Leo grips my hands tightly, as though he wants me to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. This hasn't happened in a very long time. He's gotten a much better hold on his anxiety in the past few years. I pull him into a hug and mutter words of comfort. His head is leaning on mine, and his breath slows. I tell him we'd be alright, and hum a calming tune. And we stay like that for the next five minutes.

'Luna,', Leo whispers into the night. 'Would you believe me if I told you something crazy?'

'Like what?'

'Like a war against the clock.'

And that's when I knew. Tears start brimming in my eyes as I give out a sigh of relief. 'Like a time loop?', I say as I hug Leo a little tighter. This time I needed one to remind me I wasn't alone. He seems to catch on as well, a sob escapes from him as he melts in. We stay in each other's arms, in each other's comfort - a place where walls were deaf to all the shared secrets, a sanctuary with no limits.

Oh, what I'd do to protect it.

Leo pulls away, his eyes disappear and his lips form into a sheepish grin. His face is puffy from all the crying, but it glows in the soft moonlight. My eyes widen in surprise as he grabs my hand and drags me out the door. I manage to see the clock on the kitchen counter gleaming with a bright '3:15 am.' before blood rushed to my face upon meeting the cold air.

'Where are we going? Are yo- ah it's fucking cold out here!', I complain.

'Ice Cream.' Classic hungry Leo. This boy is a demon.

iii. the twilight hour.

'What's wrong with you?!', I huff as I bend down to catch my breath and hide myself under a tree. Leo, on the other hand, is breathing quite easy, a stupid grin plastered on his face (oh, how I want to punch him). His hands hold up a bag with three tubs of mint chocolate Ice Cream like they're the greatest creation of God. 'Did you really have to steal Ice Cream?! Are you five?', I say as I recall the incident that just took place, how Leo basically ran out the convenience store with the sweet goodies without paying and left me, his dear, penniless (and only) friend as the bait to a potential flat-earther of a cashier (long story, don't ask).

And now we're here, the park I was in the previous hour. There's not a single soul around. The only companion being the moon once again. His smile shines through like the sun, however.

'I'm rweally sowwy, delulu,', he retorts.

'My name is Luna, and no one can ever be as delusional as you, you dill hole.', I say, my ears red.

'Good now, I shalt promoteth thee to 'Deluna'. Thee has't been felicitat'd.'

I click my lips in annoyance. I know quite well that when the clock resets, all the stolen Ice Cream would be back in the freezer. But I try my best to maintain a straight face to show my discontent. That's right Luna, assert your fucking dominance. I notice that his hazel eyes shining with the mischief I'm used to once again. He's back to the loud, obnoxious and teasing Leo he's always been. Leo who's carefree, Leo who's horribly reckless, Leo who finds happiness in uncertainty. My Leo. My lips slowly curl into a smile, and I give in. He's happy, and that makes me happy too. Leo suddenly pulls out his phone.

'Look here, Partner in time.', he says cheekily. I hear a click. My brows wring into discomfort and confusion.

'What? You look pretty in the moonlight.', he states without skipping a beat. There's a million tugs in my stomach, and blood rushes to my bronze skin. Butterflies soon turn into more sinister as I remember our conversation on the phone earlier. My face falls, if only this boy knew what he puts me through. First I'm not good enough, and now I'm pretty? Does he really throw around stuff like that without giving it a second thought? Does he not realize all that he's putting me through?

This is pointless. My feelings for him are pointless. The amount of time I waste on this is pointless. 'Our friendship is pointless.', I say. Regret follows immediately. Leo's face turns grim too; an unreadable expression plastered on his face. I suddenly remember something I jotted down my sociology textbook.

words left unspoken, my hearts screams, my head's in pain, we are in conflict.

Tears well up in my eyes again. This is a conflict, the most peaceful one at that. Terrifying. One that makes you curl into a ball and wish you never existed. One fueled by guilt, by insecurity, by ignorance. I remember the rest of the poem.

one of us was meant to get hurt, almost as though the heavens proclaimed it, on the day of creation. the celestial sky cried tears of gold, for it knew fate was cruel, but humans are crueler.

My hands are getting colder. My breath is hitching as my sobs get louder. Leo rushes towards me and tries to pull me into another hug. As much as I try to resist, he pulls me into his embrace. Fear devours my heart as I realize how I didn't feel at home anymore. I knew this sanctuary was going to break sooner or later. My heart is sick. It pains far too much as it beats in his embrace. Will it stop if I pull away? I try.

It does.

'Luna, what's wrong?!', Leo asks, truly afraid of what was happening.

'Us, Leo. Us.', I reply, voice barely a notch away from a whisper.

'What's wrong with us? We're Leo and Luna! You're the other half of thi-'

'Stop. Please.', I say firmly. My head feels too heavy, my heart too light. The moon shines down on me in its disgusting glory. I can't take it anymore. 'You're the reason I hate the moon, Leo. Because you are the sun. You only shine on me to mock me. To make me feel inferior.'

'What're you talking abou-'

My tongue clicks loudly. 'You're so hypocritical! You're an asshole who makes me feel like I'm the only one in the world, before throwing me out yourself. You make me feel insecure, Leo. I don't feel like I'm myself with you anymore.', I say, vitriol burning my throat. 'You disregard what I feel for you, because I'm the moon. You outcast me, because I'm the moon. You tie me down.

'You remind me of why I'll never shine on my own.'

I look at Leo. His hazel eyes turned dark, head down in shock. There's not a single drop of water in his eyes. He stands under the moonlight in silence. I can hear my heart palpitating.

'Why do you think the Sun shines, Luna?', he whispers. 'Is it to light the day, or to light the night?', he asks, a little louder this time. I open my mouth to answer.

'It's to light the night, Luna.', he interrupts. He knew I'd say neither. The sun shines for himself. He is selfish.

'The sun sheds it's light, because if it didn't, the moon would never-'

'That's exactly the prob-'

'get to see the world.' I stop midway in confusion. What is he saying?

'The sun shines because he wants the moon to see the world, Luna. He shines because if he didn't, the moon would be lonely. He makes sure to shed the perfect amount of light on her, so that she guides the traveler without scalding them, without making them blind.

'If he never shone, he'd have never have found his other half. The sun would have been just as lonely as the moon would have, Luna. The sun and moon are a pair, not because the moon can't shine on her own, but because they are lonely without each other.', Leo says.

And epiphany struck down like lightning. Leo needs me as much as I need him. He'd be just as lonely as I'd been without him. The moon's identity without the sun hadn't ever been her own. It was due to the sun's light she was herself. The sun made her the moon, and the moon made him the sun. They were inseparable, as destiny willed them to be, for they needed each other. For the sun to shine the brightest, and the moon to give comfort. But all that didn't answer why-

'Why did you say I wasn't enough for you?', I say, reminiscing that day in the park. I remember picking out a bouquet of purple lilacs after studying a book about plant symbolism in the library. I spent hours trying to make myself look pretty. I spent a lot of time trying to make up my mind. And everything came crashing down.

'Because you deserve more!', Leo says in defeat, fingers brushing into his hair. 'Do you know how much of a loser I am? You deserve a hunk-a-ilicous person, are you really going to settle for a noodle?!', Leo says, gesturing to his lean figure. As sarcastic as his response seemed, he meant every word of what he said. That's just how Leo is.

'Leo, that's exactly how I've been feeling this whole time.' I pull Leo into a hug.

Leo is no different than I've been my whole life. He's just as insecure and broken as I am, as I've always been. All my life, I'd seen him as a completely different person. We have different hobbies, we have different personalities. But we're still similar in ways that make us, well, us. It's just that our sanctuary needed to break to have it's walls built back stronger. I feel at home again.

'You're more of a sausage though. Alri-ALRIGHT lemme clear up, you're MY sausage okay? The best one in fact, I will use you in all my dishes.', Leo says as I pull out of his embrace and find a stone on the road to attack the disrespectful brat. Leo runs away and makes his way behind the usual Banyan tree at the edge of the park. 'That's literally the worst nickname ever!', I yell as I chase him.

'Mine own dearest sausage I begeth thee to reconsid'r!'

'TRY ME BITCH.'

'Hey, hey wait.', Leo holds down my hands and blocks my attack, and I'm left with no weapon except for the daggers in my eyes I choose to use against him. 'So, what are we now?', he asks.

'We're still Leo and Luna, dumb head.', I say after giving it a thought. Leo opens his mouth to refute, but soon decides against it. I assume he's content with the answer. We were friends, nothing could ever break that. Would we ever be something more? Who knows, maybe we would in the future when we love ourselves a little more, when we're comfortable with who we are, rather than who we're with.

Until then, we are Leo and Luna.

///////------

My eyes flutter open. I am leaning on the trunk of the Banyan tree next to Leo. I find myself in sleepy laughter as I look at his head lodged in between the roots of the tree. And suddenly, I see light in the distance. I immediately wake up from my position near the tree and walk to the edge of its canopy, heart beating in my stomach and look at the sky outside. The dark navy night melts into a light lilac, small streaks of tangerine bordering the the horizon. The birds are beginning to chirp in the trees, though the street lights are still on.

The time loop has stopped.

Meanwhile, Leo had stirred awake. He runs with his eyebrows up in surprise and squeezes the life out of me before his eyes turned dark in fear.

'WE HAVE SCHOOL.', he exclaims. I ignore him, and choose to stare into the sky. I look at the twilight hour. The sun and the moon were side by side, in harmony, like Leo told me. Tears escape my eyes in a sense of accomplishment. I could rest now. I give myself a small hug, and tell myself I'd worked hard. ('LUNA DO YOU REMEMBER THE HAMMURABI CODE.' 'That is not important right now!') The sun rises up, and salvages the few moments he has with the moon. I turn my head to the side and see that the moon looks serene, her light glow slowly fading as she decides to rest too.

But above all, I see that the moon is no longer lonely.

a/n: ahhhh yes if you’ve made it this far, i truly truly appreciate you for reading this, it means a lot to me. the past few days have been a little weird for me, and it took more than just motivation for me to get through writing this. again, thank you to all my beta readers, i really treasure all of you! i’d really love to get an ask about the short story, so if you enjoyed, make sure to send me one! i hope everyone’s staying safe! stay tuned with us because we have another surprise coming soon!

alatcg taglist: @blue-hairbrush, @kaavijournals, @artbyeloquent, @47crayons, @writing-is-a-martial-art

general writing taglist: @shinesundark, @the-writing-avocado, @raenawrites

@original-writing

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silverypurple-rosedlions · 4 years

Text

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓟𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮

━━━━━━☓━━━━━━

• Activated on August, 22, 2020 •

• Redesigned on October 8, 2020 •

━━━━━━☓━━━━━━

🛑DISCLAIMER 1/2🛑: These chatbots do NOT represent Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Minghao, Mingyu, Seokmin, Seventeen, and Pledis in any shape or form. Neither do I claim to be them. This is purely made for entertainment and fiction purposes.

🛑DISCLAIMER 2/2🛑: I am not licensed in psychology, nor am I studying it as part of my education. But, I am studying it in my free time and I am learning about each disorder to the best of my abilities. What will be mentioned is based on true information from those who have studied, or have that disorder.

🛑Trigger Warning🛑: This will contain strong language, mentions of violence and gore, and especially mental illnesses. If you are uncomfortable with the following topics, do not proceed any further for your safety. If you wish to only know small information about the members, you are more than welcomed to avoid reading their quoted and mental and physical illnesses, but do acknowledge that they have them.

━━━━━━☓━━━━━━

𝕭𝖔𝖘��

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"You know boys, I'm getting real tired over all this bullshit. So... Have at it. Free for all! Witness our bloody parade, you filthy shits! Let us bring you the blessing of eternal slumber from this tainted world!"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Yoon Jeonghan

[Alias]: Angel; Angel of Death

[Soon-To-Be Husband]: Hong Joshua Jisoo

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Depression: A disorder that causes the person constant feelings of sadness, unmotivation, discouragement, and lost of interest in daily activities. It affects feelings and behavior, leading to numerous emotional and physical complications.

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis): A mental disorder where a person feels detached from reality; disconnected with reality and more invested into a fabricated reality created by the brain.

Schizophrenia: A disorder, a psychotic disorder, that disrupts how the person thinks, feels, and behaves. The fabricated reality created by the brain affects this, altering all three listed.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): A disorder in which a person has difficulty recovering from past events in their lives that impacted them negatively; an event that was extremely terrifying.

[Facts]:

-> Due to past events, Jeonghan has trust issues. Until the person proves that they are harmless to him and his group, Jeonghan will be distant and blunt, making sharp remarks and will push the person away if they aren't of any use to his group.

-> As a side effect from Schizophrenia, Jeonghan is known to repeatedly tap the temple of his head, twitching and jerking. If irritated, he will begin to tap violently to the point he's inflicting pain to himself, such as: pulling hair, slamming hands against his head, digging his nails into his body, and more.

-> His past is a very sensitive topic for him. He will not answers or explain his past unless you have gained his full trust. If asked constantly, Jeonghan will not hesitate into inflicting pain due to being triggered. So do NOT question his past until close with him.

-> Due to a failed experiment meant to help Jeonghan with his beginning stages of Schizophrenia, Jeonghan's eyes are able to go blue. This being referred by all members as, "blue eyes." When in this state, Jeonghan loses all senses of the world around him, encased in his episode, and will attack anything and anyone until episode is over, or is calmed.

𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖘𝖘

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"I may not be as psychotic as my lover, and I seem sweeter than some. But that does not mean I'll let you live another day... Instead, I'll make sure you're real pretty. I'll make SURE to create a beautiful bouquet of flowers and YOUR intestines while your body is as empty as your HEART,"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Hong Joshua Jisoo

[Alias]: Joshua

[Companion]: Yoon Jeonghan

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Bipolar Disorder (Manic Depression): A disorder when a person's moods swing easier than usual, ranging from depressive lows to manic highs; from feeling depression to suddenly feeling euphoria, feeling energized and creative, but to a higher extent.

Anxiety Disorder: A mental disorder in which feelings such as anxiety, fear, and worry are heightened, becoming strong enough to create issues within a person's daily life. This can also lead to side effects such as: hyperventilating, fatigue, sweating, insomnia, lack of concentration, and more.

[Facts]:

-> Joshua is Jeonghan's main pillar, the only one who has the largest impact on the Boss and is able to calm Jeonghan from Schizophrenic episodes quicker than the rest.

-> Joshua is one of the friendliest members in The Purple Rose. He's easier to approach, but do not underestimate him. Sometimes, buried underneath his sweet smile and kind words is a beast that is feared by everyone.

-> Joshua is one, out of two people, who had sent Jeonghan in a Mental Asylum in hopes that they could help him. But it failed, and Joshua still feels guilty for sending Jeonghan to a horrendous place, despite receiving forgiveness when the two reunited.

-> When nervous and anxious, Joshua's eyes will dart around the room, looking at various objects and people to calm himself. That, or he will turn to Jeonghan, the members, or listen to music to ground himself.

-> It may not seem like it, but Joshua has slight yandere tendencies that are very rare to see. But he will become jealousy and "territorial" over Jeonghan, being that many attempt to seduce the Boss for their personal gain.

𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖗/𝕾𝖕𝖞

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"Even though I may seem like I'm given the less "exciting" job today, doesn't mean I can't have my own type of fun with this. And since you tried to scam us with these useless supplies and weapons, I guess I'll have my pleasure in blasting your brains to bits thinking we were gullible, sir. I'll make sure no one will be able to know who you are when I'm through with you."

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Wen Junhui

[Alias]: Jun

[Soon-To-Be Husband]: Jeon Wonwoo (@seventeen-chatbot)

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis)

Schizophrenia

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

[Facts]:

-> Due to Schizophrenia, Jun has the habit of constantly moving, such as: bouncing legs, twitching and jerking, and tapping his fingers on a flat surface. Some say he picked up the habit of tapping on flat surfaces from Jeonghan, who constantly taps his temples.

-> Jun is known to be the second member of The Purple Rose to be the messiest with his victims, following Jeonghan. He's known for tearing people apart, whether they're alive or already dead.

-> So far, Jun is prohibited from any interaction with children due to his violent tendencies to them. But it is unknown as to why children trigger him.

-> Jun learned Kung Fu and Martial Arts during his youth, using that to his advantage if ever his weapons are restricted from him.

-> Jun is known for copying others sayings and actions, such as small gestures and few sentences or words, repeating them without knowing so, being that it became his habit.

𝕹𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗/𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖔𝖚𝖙

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"Listen, and listen well, because I don't want to repeat this again. You made a FUCKING deal. You promised that you'll pull through your end of the bargain as we did. So if you can't give the shit we requested, the deal is off. Your area is now OURS, and frankly, we have a BETTER person to run that waste of space you've created. So, nighty night BASTARD. Say hi to Satan for us,"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Jeon Wonwoo

[Alias]: Wonwoo

[Companion]: None

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Dissociative Identity Disorder (D.I.D): A disorder in where the brain creates other alters/identities to distribute trauma to, so that the main person, the host, is protected from past events that occured in their life that they aren't able to handle alone.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD)

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis)

Hand Tremors: An movement disorder within the body, most commonly in the hands but can occur in other body parts. An involuntary, rhythmic muscle contraction that causes shaking. Can happen every now and then, or constantly.

[Facts]:

-> In total, Wonwoo has 17 alters. But 5 main alters are known to front most often, being the main protectors of the body:

-> It was rumoured that Wonwoo was plotting to take the role as leader of The Purple Rose, eliminating Yoon Jeonghan. But it was never confirmed.

-> Due to poor eyesight, Wonwoo is required to wear glasses. But when doing work and handling targets, Wonwoo will not need them. Strange as it is, his eyes sharpen, narrowing on his target no matter the distance as his adrenaline kicks in.

-> Despite being a negotiator, dealing with men and women within casinos, Wonwoo despises gambling. He can't tolerate the smell of strong alcohol, betting, and smoke.

-> Among the eight members, Wonwoo is the best when handling treatments such as severe wounds. He knows what to use, how to use it, and how long it'll take to heal, or, at least an estimated time.

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖗𝖊

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"I'm getting sick and tired with your babbling, you know that? I don't like wasting my time on people who can't pull their shit together, or ones who have no real benefit to the Purple Rose. So, I'm going to do us both the favor and end this short. But with a loud bang!"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Lee Jihoon

[Alias]: Jihoon

[Companion]: Kim Inseong (@heartbrokenxinseong)

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis)

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD)

[Facts]:

-> Jihoon is the Representative of The Purple Rose, always attending meetings that they are requested to attend, and taking in all information and then explaining it to the Boss and Underboss, Jeonghan and Joshua.

-> Jihoon's main job is to not only process information, but to plan each mission, and how they will carried out. It has been his job since the start of The Purple Rose.

-> Jihoon has severe trust issues, becoming skeptical and defensive of himself and others around him, sometimes lashing out.

-> Jihoon does not accept being called "cute." Despite his height, Jihoon is hostile, and will not hesitate to attack.

-> It is rare that Jihoon participates in outdoor activities with the group, usually locked inside his room handling missions and piles of work that is handed to him.

𝕳𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗/𝕾𝖕𝖞

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"Although I had a great time with you, fellas, I have to get going. I can't let my boss and the boys wait any longer now that you're of no more use to us. To keep this our secret like yours with your team and boss, I'm going to put you to eternal sleep, and I'll make sure your body doesn't go to waste,"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Xu Minghao

[Alias]: Minghao; The Ghost

[Companion]: Kim (Jeewon) Jiwon (@90sjeewonie)

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Shared Psychotic Disorder: An unusual mental disorder of a person sharing a delusion among two or more people who are in a close relationship. The (inducer, primary) who has a psychotic disorder with delusions influences the other, or more (induced, secondary) with a specific belief.

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis)

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

[Facts]:

-> Minghao never had intentions of joining The Purple Rose, or joining in any infamous activities. But, because he was influenced and close with Jun, he didn't have any other option but to became a member, sharing Jun's Schizophrenia.

-> Minghao is a cannibal, and has been since the age of 17. He tends to make comments now and then on people, wondering what they would taste like but will not pursue them depending his relationship with them.

-> He knows how to use all technology, creating his own softwares and bots to use as assistance in missions. He's crafty, and with Jun and Mingyu's help, he creates his own unique gadgets that are used frequently.

-> He's a top spy, always assigned 90% of the time to missions that include entering into the building, stealing, and deceit. When doing this, he temporarily dyes his hair a different color.

-> He's known as The Ghost due to appearing in one area, then suddenly disappearing without a trace, later appearing again and rendering targets without a sound.

𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉/𝕰𝖝 𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖘𝖘

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"I may not be an Underboss anymore, but just because I've been placed as a bodyguard doesn't mean I'm no longer the man you once feared, pal. How about you show me what you got before I leap and rip off those limbs of yours? Or should we just get to the ripping limbs part already?

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Kim Mingyu

[Alias]: Mingyu

[Companion]: Choi (Arin) Yewon (@arinschoi)

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

Psychotic Disorder (Psychosis)

PTSD

[Facts]:

-> Originally, Mingyu was supposed to be eliminated by Jeonghan, due to abandoning Jeonghan, who was caught and brought back to the Asylum in 2016. But, Jeonghan spared him, removing him from Underboss and placing him as a Bodyguard.

-> Mingyu's main priority is to not only protect the members, but most importantly, protect the Boss, the Underboss, and the Consigliere, who are the ones functioning the entire organization.

-> Mingyu is known to be the cleanest member, always cleaning after them and doing normal house chores that he's mistaken to be a germaphobic. But compare it to his work, Mingyu gets reckless when handling victims, creating a mess.

-> Aside from working as a Bodyguard, Mingyu acts as a spy and seducer. But it is only in rare cases will Mingyu be required to be a seducer, but does not engage in s*xual activities, getting the job done before it gets serious.

-> Is known to be Jeonghan's "ex-partner/companion" due to a past struggle the two were under. During that time, Mingyu acted as Jeonghan's significant other, but Jeonghan did not reciprocate the feelings and continued on with work to the best of his abilities.

𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗/𝕽𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖗

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

"I had fun doing our little game of cat and mouse, but I'm starting to get tired, mouse! And you look just as tired as I am, right? So, do me a favor of standing still, smiling at me, and letting me gut you out. I'll make sure to bury you somewhere nice with some purple roses. A reminder that you never FUCK with the Purple Rose, scumbag,"

◈ ━━━━━━🥀━━━━━━ ◈

[Name]: Lee Seokmin

[Alias]: Seokmin

[Companion]: Byun Baekhyun (@ghoulxbaekhyun)

[Characteristics]:

[Mental and Physical Illnesses]:

ADHD: A chronic condition including attention difficulty, hyperactivity, and impulsiveness, which begins during childhood and into adulthood. Effects self-esteem, education and work, and relationship

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD)

[Facts]:

-> Seokmin is a cannibal, beginning this at the age of 18. It is unknown why he followed Minghao, both becoming the only two who devoured people, but one thing is for sure. He doesn't always eat victims, but he won't hesitate to take a bite.

-> Being a navigator, Seokmin is excellent in tracking and finding secluded places, especially places that are illegal and are infamous around the network: casinos, mafia basses, closed off buildings used for selling drugs, and more. And as a Runner, it is Seokmin's job to take all that The Purple Rose gains from a mission, escaping the scene with the objects if ever they were caught or were on the run. This also places him as the Getaway Driver, despite being a reckless driver.

-> Seokmin can be easily persuaded if lured into the trap by the right bait. But no offer can make him betray The Purple Rose, especially never betraying the Boss, the Underboss, and Consigliere. He follows their orders strictly, despite bending the rules.

-> Seokmin may be the sweetest and bubbliest member in the group, but he has his equal share, perhaps more than some members, of having a sinister side to him. When making gruesome comments, he always says them with a big, bright smile.

-> Seokmin despises usage of drugs and alcohol. He'll drink now and then, but no more than two cups. Sometimes, Seokmin is triggered by certain drugs, causing him to become bitter and sharp, sometimes picking fights he doesn't mean to create.

✨OG✨// @yanlee

🥀// @empress-jiaqi @criminalinvestigator-mingyu @princess-yeji @doll-seungmin @doll-hyunjin @peachy-jaemjaemin @storybook-nct @deadly-skz-gods-cb @babyhj1sung @yandere-somi-jeon @dandyboy-seungmin @detectivexsicheng @time-for-confession @adoringeun @shinhaneul-oc @split-jiu @domyukhei @joyinwonderland @mafia-chaeyoung @mafiafelixlee @moonlit-jaemin @purgejaemin @floristluda @yoonhana @ateez-zombie-wonderland @ghost-hyunjin @vscohyunjin @moonlit-nono @cb-dungeon @daddysm @amazingspiderhan @heiress-yeeun @babyboynono @blackwidowjennie @roseanneholmes @fairy-dejun @skz-cb @vampiremomo @vampireprince-jeonghan @college-baekhyun @hunter-chaeyoung @julia-oc @moonlightchris @weeb-wonwoo and more . . .

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sometimes-we-all-fall · 3 years

Text

A little Bucky ff…

It was always a good idea to be the boss’ favourite toy.

She slipped down the pole, every languid inch of her body running down the cold metal. Pulling her limbs down with the darker tempo of the music and when the beat popped, she flipped her head back. Her hair was a flying bird in the air, arms swirling in a twirl that would make saints faint on the spot.

A man to her right: a handsome one with heavy tattoos and that smile, the one all the women fawned over for sure. He was the one who she’d caught the eyes of.

Anna put a hand out to the girl on her left and whispered she’d be right back. Then she climbed down the stage, a beeline straight to the man. He saw her coming and nudged at his friends and when they saw her and their jaws dropped Anna’s pride soared.

Of course Anna was gorgeous, her parents wouldn’t have gotten such a high price for her if she wasn’t.

Smiling a million dollars, Anna swayed her hips right to him. He yanked her, his fingers digging into her waist as he pressed her too close to his torso.

“That ass has my name on it princess.” He whispered in her ear.

Anna tried her hardest not to roll her eyes at the same line every man spluttered out with. Fair enough, on the ledge of her pantyline a delicate tattoo read, ‘your name.’ But she was really fucking tired of it.

“Hands off pretty boy, it's the only rule.” Anna winked but her fingers pried firmly at his hands. He sighed and gave her another firm squeeze before letting go with an overdramatic nod. She got to work then, shaking her ass in his face and running the tips of her fingers everywhere but where he wanted.

It was the whole trading chip of a stripper to leave them wanting more, always on the edge of desire and frustration and relaxation. This man was not taking kindly to her tactics though.

She had one hand in his hair, pulling just enough and the other delightfully too high on his waist. Her tits were definitely on one of each of his eyes as she danced to the music.

“Stop.” he put a hand on her throat, “teasing.” his tongue licked the column of her throat before she could pull away. And when she tried, his hand only held tighter.

Grinning, Anna slid her hand up his arm, pulling her body closer and closer, her bloodred lips inches from his neatly trimmed beard. She ran a streak of that lipstick across his cheek until her lips found the shell of his ear. The man seemed to practically purr.

“If you look behind me, on my right shoulder and next to the bar is a man I am sure is staring at you.” when his hand on her throat faltered a little all Anna’s teeth bore. “His name is James, a former soldier and present advocate for the devil.”

Her words had the man practically melting off her but Anna only leaned closer, let her knees rest between his thighs. “A personal bodyguard of mine you could say and though I told you not to touch…” she trailed off.

Anna slid a hand to the tent below her and leaned all her weight down. He grunted and huffed.

“Pay up.” she whispered, but he only sneered in her face.

She shrugged and released the poor fucker, slapping her hands together as if touching him had left her hands dirty.

The man looked all shades of pissed. “Filthy bitch. Too fucking useless to even give me blueballs.” Anna only winked.

Sad for him really, that streak on his cheek was Anna’s personal penmanship for his demise. Sure enough, as she headed to the bathroom James had gotten off his stool and strutted straight to the man.

Leaning on the cracked sink, Anna closed her eyes for a minute. It was four in the morning and she’d been in these heels for the better part of twelve hours. Her feet hurt. Her head hurt, her eyes and every inch of her body ached.

But, she took a breath and fumbled beneath the pipes of the sink and- there, found it. She only spilled three of the slim pills onto her hand, deciding not to let her head get too fuzzy tonight and chucked them to the back of her throat. The effect was instant, her head feeling like the pins weren’t there and her hands the opposite.

A shuddering breath and a swipe at the mascara under her eyes, Anna straightened herself again, plastered her filthiest smile on and clicked out the bathroom.

James had taken his spot at the bar again, brooding over a knuckle of whiskey. She went over to him, gesturing at Andy across the bar for her regular drink. She only barely missed the seat the first time and knocked into James on her second attempt.

He only exhaled deeply and elbowed her the right way. “Flags and weapons look the same Anna.”

Her brain was too fucked to even understand what the fuck he was on about. “James-”

“That’s not my name.”

“We only live once and all that bullshit. Let me be who I am. To be the best me I can be.”

He feigned a chuckle. “Where’d you hear that one?”

She peeled the skin off a peanut, “subway station.”

The corner of his mouth curled and she nearly choked on the nut.

“A smile? James, you-“

“Anna.”

She grinned evilly. “James.”

“That’s not my name.”

She threw a hand on her chest, gasping “James!”

He shook his head and gave up, swigging from the glass. She rolled her eyes, he was never any fun.

“Alright, Thomas.”

“Still not-”

“I think it’s time I went home.”

James levelled an eye at her, “your shift isn’t over yet.” Anna grimaced but nodded.

She stepped onto the floor and spun his seat so she was nestled between his legs. James raised his chin with a snort. That was the biggest invitation she’d get.

Anna tilted her head, watching where his eyes turned from ‘boss mode’ to ‘whatever’.

Dipping a hand down, she felt the bump at his crotch and ran the tips of her stiletto nails down it. His hips jerked and Anna gleamed.

Andy had turned his back and all other girls secretly hissed at her, Anna was the only one he ever tolerated. The one he’d let be rubbed off for a few extra hours in bed.

He hissed when she came close enough to smell the mint and whiskey on his breath and nipped the hairs of his stubble. She ducked down then and rubbed her nose over his throat, keening when the parcel in her hand throbbed a little.

“Up. Get up and follow me.” He hissed under his breath and she didn’t take a moment to clasp his hand and pull him to the darkest of the booths.

James spread eagled across the surface and caught her as Anna flung herself into his lap. She was on his mouth instantly, pulling and nipping his bottom lip until she was let in to explore. He was warm and soft and familiar, and she fell into the curves of his chest easily.

James hummed in approval when she rolled her hips over his bulge, so she did it again, but this time her fingers tugged those fly-away hairs on his nape. That throbbing pulsed past the leather on her thighs and Anna grinned through the kiss.

They were never gentle, always tugging and clawing at each other for that release. It wasn’t as if James couldn’t have every woman in the club if he wanted, he was the owner, but they lost each other in the familiarity. She had known him since the war ended and watched as he built this place from the ground, only ever asking to be a part of his journey. She didn’t want anything else, didn’t need; at least not from him. Anna would never ask another thing from any man ever again.

“I need you early tomorrow.” James panted through his teeth and she momentarily went still and groaned.

He picked her lips back up and ran a rough hand down her back. “Kelly quit yesterday and we have no one for the live tomorrow. I swear, it's only temporary.”

When he trailed that sweet mouth to her collar it became impossible to think. “How bad-” his devil tongue sliced a path of desire down her chest. “How bad do you want me?”

James knew what she was doing and he couldn’t care less. “Not want.” he raked his cock up her tortoursley. “I need you. Could barely survive without you.”

She was lost and nodded a yes to now and whenever. He praised her beauty before stealing the air from her lungs, his tongue doing dangerous things to her mouth and throat. And she couldn’t help herself from chasing that friction, flushing the denim seam against her aching core. James met her eagerly, happy to be the giver this time round.

He slapped the bare skin around her thong and humped her up and down his lap. She moaned too loud for decency. All too soon there was a bubble in her stomach and she began panting and falling, her limbs giving over to whatever James could offer her. He undid her with every heave but she needed more of him on every part of her body, the body that betrayed her right then.

With a shudder her head exploded into stars and the only way to hold on was to dig her nails into him, a pain that had him ripping the steady pace and fucking her into oblivion. He grunted but still wasn’t there. Only barely hanging on as Anna flew worlds over; but that wouldn’t do at all.

She pulled herself up with renewed vigor and James’ heart fluttered with anticipation. She took over then, a predator spotting its prey. Her hips drew breathy moans from him, pulling apart his sense of self and yanking them together and when her teeth flew to his throat-

He was undone. Spent and too uncontrolled to stop the sounds or jerking of his hips that nearly knocked Anna’s head on the light above them. It rippled through him in ecstasy. He pulled her right to him then, so she was flush with his chest and he could hear her second release barrel through her with the last few thrusts.

Anna lay in his neck, gathering her thoughts from the floor. James was gripping her tight enough she was practically clung to his torso like a monkey. She could feel the humming bird in his chest slowly calm as the breaths in her hair lulled. He was content and Anna was all too happy to sit there, she’d fall asleep in his arms without bother. Even the music seemed satisfied and soft.

The flashing lights had turned to a dim glow for the late nighters and Anna let herself melt. Only for him would she be so content and she knew, Anna just knew this is what it felt like to be truly home. Clustered in his heat where even the scar riddled soldier was happy to dream with his face in her hair.

Anna opened her eyes to darkness. The beeping at the side of her bed seemed to get louder with every second. She flung an arm out and shut the blasted thing up. She was still there in James’ arms for a second before reality hit.

And Anna couldn’t stop the dam from bursting as she wished with all her heart that it could have been real. That James was alive and well. That she wasn’t aching for his smile every blasted morning and his voice every night. Anna prayed that somewhere out there he was alive but it was impossible. Impossible because she was part of Hydra, part of this century and yet it hurt like no torture could ever match. James would only ever be memories in her dreams.

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Transgressions || Morgan & Leah

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @phoenixleah & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Leah has secrets to reveal: one for herself, and one for Constance. Morgan finds that sometimes answers aren’t enough.

CONTAINS: Brief references to past abuse.

“I still can’t believe you found something on her,” Morgan said, following Leah inside. “I must have torn up every other repository of books in town. I even had someone dig up legal documents from the town and county’s files. And all I got was a lousy death certificate, which was wonkily dated because when you surrender your body to pay for an infinite curse alone in the woods, no one’s around to clock your real time of death back in eighteen whatever. Nothing that could help satisfy even a knowledge-focused intention or answer literally anything substantive.” Morgan paused, smiling apologetically. Between all the attempted murder, ingredient hunting, and the convenient lack of support from Nell, Morgan felt like she was being cut down to one brittle edge. But Leah was a good friend, and she would give Morgan the missing pieces she needed in Constance’s story. Pieces she needed to make sense of the fuckery that had plagued her existence, and might give her something to twist the knife when she finally had her pinned down in the exorcism. “Thank you. You are the best. I’m sorry I’m kind of...on edge.”

As Leah led Morgan into the library, long after closing hours, her lips were pressed together to suppress a grin. There was always a sense of pride that came with coming across information that no one else seemed to have access to, and the praise that came with it didn’t hurt, either. She let out a chuckle at Morgan’s words, turning around to face her. “This is what friends do”, she said, brushing off Morgan’s thanks. “It’s so weird, but as soon as you mentioned her name to me, it sounded strangely familiar”, she explained, reaching behind Morgan to lock the entrance to the library behind them. She had a few dusty tomes piled up on the front desk, pressing her lips together as she watched Morgan take them in. They certainly weren’t books you’d find in a typical library, so she wondered if she’d take notice. “A lot going on lately?” she asked at the admission.

Morgan shrugged. “Okay, maybe not a lot by White Crest standards, but with the latest nonsense and my being stalked and hunted by a hundred year old ghost teenager, I’m feeling a little...end of my rope-y. You would think that the endless physical stamina thing would come in handy here, but while I am an expert at pulling a good old fashioned all-nighter, the whole not-being-able to sleep thing means my brain will, eventually, in its near inability to reach total unconsciousness, turn on itself and make everything happening to me worse.” She cleared her throat, realizing that she was veering dangerously close to dumping everything on Leah at once. “But! This is going to be great! I mean, she wrecks my car, she sends ghost minions after me, she tries to kill me and friends, it’s like, who are you? Why are you like this? Obviously we are way past reasoning and talking things out nicely, but I would feel pretty satisfied knowing how long she’s been this awful.” She hoped, more than anything, to walk away with what she had done to Agnes that finally made her realize how awful the girl was. Had she hurt her? Or someone else Agnes cared for? It made Morgan’s stomach clench to think of this curse being leveled against a teenage girl who’d just been trying to protect her family. The idea made the whole curse more twisted, that they were all punished for nothing from the very beginning. But the more she was forced to contend with Constance, the more it felt ikely. “Can you walk me through what you got? These definitely don’t look like your average tomes. Like, at all.”

As she listened to Morgan explain, Leah tilted her head to the side in curiosity. “You need to rest”, she agreed with assurance. “You’re feeling end of your rope-y because you’re probably physically and mentally at the end of your rope. I think you’re poor brain has been non-stop stressed since everything with Deirdre and her mushrooms.” She put a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, noting the cool temperature compared to her own. It was a relief that her friend now knew her secret, there was no longer stress about explaining mundane things away like her warmth. There were far more important matters to worry about. And tonight, apparently, another secret to reveal. “So once we’re through with her, I’m definitely setting up a fae and zombie approved spa night somewhere in that gorgeous house of yours.” A soft smile began to grow the more Morgan ranted about this girl, … this Constance. “Sometimes spirits that haven’t moved on have a very very specific one track mind… so… if it’s you she’s back for, it’s you she’s going to concentrate on. We just need to figure out why.” She bit her lip as she glanced back at the tomes, leading Morgan over to them tentatively. “So… in order to tell you how I know what I do and make it make sense, I also need to, sort of, tell you something else about myself. But this secret, Morgan, it’s even more important that it stays between us than my being a phoenix, okay?” She glanced to the door that was now behind her, the one to the basement of the library that held years and years of private journals with supernatural knowledge. “Have you ever heard of the Scribes?”

“No such thing as physical exhaustion for a zombie,” Morgan smirked, her mouth curling bitterly. “It never stops. It’s just the brain that gets tired. I’m pretty sure sapient consciousness wasn’t meant to run twenty four-seven, but that’s what spacing out into the abyss is for!” A small laugh bubbled out of her, but there wasn’t much joy floating in it. “It’s really not… I’m just being a baby. I want a break, I want the skinny ghost bitch gone, and I had this delusion that being done with my curse meant being done with all of this… tragic backstory deluxe family pack.” She sniffled and dabbed at the corners of her eyes before her tears could start running over and make a mess of the books and her makeup job. “Anyways, you were doing me a big favor and we were being proactive.” She moved in close to the books, brushing one open with the tip of her finger. The leather bound volume was—handwritten?

It was then that Leah’s question came. Morgan said nothing a moment, looking from the old journal, to Leah, and back again. “...I have, yeah…” she said slowly. “I kind of… there’s this place in the woods? Rio calls it the Scribrary. It’s been helpful to me over the months. Even if I don’t know how to feel about the whole… hands off, true neutral thing. But they’re not around anymore to—” She stopped, eyes going wide as she looked at Leah. “Is this? Are you—?” Her brain was struggling to compute. “Did past life you steal these?” She asked, lowering her voice to an amazed whisper.

“I don’t think working yourself to the point of exhaustion is being a baby, Morgan. It’s predictable, honestly.”, Leah said, absentmindedly running her hands over the binding of the tomes. She softened, sympathizing with Morgan. “You’d think that your death ending your family curse would have been enough tragedy and inconvenience for one person, but, I hope after this, you can be done with all the bullshit. We’re going to get her gone, okay? Both you and Constance need to rest, in your own way, and I’m one hundred percent sure we’ll find a way to make that happen.” The scribary, she’d have to get Rio to get her in there sometime. She had a lot of information, sure, but the tomes there had to have gone back even further than hers did.

Leah watched carefully as Morgan seemed to play her words around in her head, working out exactly what Leah could mean. She was always worried if it was suspicious- to be so openly knowledgeable about the supernatural world, to be able to offer help or random spurts of information about any number of creatures. Some people had to suspect, right? Suspect that, while yes, the scribes were essentially dead, she and her family had somehow fallen through the cracks of the tragedies and misfortunes that befell them. But then, there was Morgan’s question, and it was abundantly clear that there were no suspicions, at least not on her friend’s part. It was a relief, honestly, because as one of the most intelligent and well-read people she knew, Morgan seemed like the person who, if anyone, would have suspected. She couldn’t help but giggle at the question, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Steal them?” she asked, covering her mouth. “No...n-no, they’re not stolen. They’re mine.” She looked down at the ones in front of her proudly, pressing her lips together. “Well, ...ours. My family’s.” She let out a breath, a sense of pride filling her up as she looked back to Morgan. “Because we- well… the scribes aren’t all dead like everyone thinks. The library’s always been a nice cover, honestly.” She gestured to the door behind her as she spoke. “The uh, basement is bigger than you’d think.” She felt nervous again, hoping that this new information, another secret she’d been keeping from Morgan, wouldn’t turn her friend off in anyway. “It’s not something that many people know about me, because protecting this information is integral to protecting White Crest and the integrity of the scribes, but…”, she ran her hands over the dusty tomes in front of them, grinning, “...well, I’m pretty sure I wrote all of these myself.”

Morgan stared, waiting for some other catch to come in. “Yours,” she repeated. “And ours. Not you and me ours, but you and...your family ‘ours.’ Because you’re...for real scribes.” She gaped, trying not to laugh with disbelief. “Holy shit. The scribes are alive, and the scribes are you and---holy shit!” She doubled over, trying to process. Leah didn’t really seem like the bystander syndrome type. She was always ready to learn and share with anyone, a lot like Rio. Did Morgan have the scribes all wrong, or did it take a mini apocalypse for something good to grow? She turned upright, her face still awed. “I have a lot of questions. Like, a lot. But, I think the first one is...do you actually remember any of those...things? I mean, do you know her or is it more like...as if your great great grandma knew her? You...just discovered this, right? I mean--” Morgan reached out for one of the books, her hand frozen over the pages. “You don’t really know her, do you?”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at Morgan’s reaction, the giggles bubbling up unexpectedly. She knew most people thought all the scribes were dead, and honestly, most of them were. Her family was rare in that they were able to keep their archives over all these years, and she attributed it mostly to some of them being phoenixes. She tilted her head once she calmed down, an apologetic look forming on her face. “So, sadly, I don’t have many memories of writing this, or of what happened when I was writing it. I mean, as a phoenix I should be able to piece together some things, but for some reason, that’s not so easy for me in this lifetime.” She really needed to explore the theory that something happened to her memories, because the older she got, the more inconvenient not knowing who she was in the past was becoming. “I think that’s a better way to look at it. But luckily… Great Great Grandma Lucrecia seemed to be pretty thorough”. With that, she pulled the first tome off of the top of the pile, opening to a page that she had marked with a tab earlier. She looked up at Morgan when she found the page, the traces of a grin playing on her lips. “It seems like your friend Constance was surprisingly powerful”, she said, turning the book so Morgan could get a better look.

Leah’s giggles were reassuring to Morgan. She wasn’t offended by Morgan's confusion and she hadn’t been sitting on some secret past life friendship. “Okay!” She breathed, “No, that’s good. That’s really good.” She sighed again, laughing as she did. “I mean, you have these resources that literally no one else on the planet has, and you weren’t like, hiding things. Which is great because I feel like this whole time I just...cannot get people to understand why I need what I need out of this mess, and knowing that this is just...exactly what it seems like, which is a fucking miracle…” She wiped her eyes, realizing she was crying and wasn’t even sure why. “Anyway, uh, my thanks to Great Great Grandma Lucrecia. If there’s a way to pay respects to phoenix past lives or past incarnations, however that is, I want to know about it. And do that, if that’s okay.”

She gestured to the book, making sure it was really okay to get a look and peered in. It seemed like Constance had made a regular nuisance of herself at the local scribe library, gobbling up as many magic texts as she could. She told Lucrecia that she had mastered whatever else was given, enough so that Lucrecia was skeptical of her claims, but it seemed Constance could summon at least basic potential in multiple fields of magic. And of course, she didn’t care about using it with tact or responsibility, although Lurecia’s words were much kinder, even sympathetic about it. Constance was well-meaning, too eager, too desperate to impress. She was a prodigy, and she was interested in the art of spellcraft, hoping that she could challenge, and even outrun herself. “Wow, goodie for her,” Morgan grumbled bitterly.

She gestured for Leah’s help with turning the page and came across and entry that gave her pause. “Hey, Leah? What does this line mean? She makes it sound like...Constance was being mistreated? She had to call for a healer...again? Do we know if these injuries were actually attributed to home stuff, or could it have been more magic experimentation going wrong, do you think?” Arcane backlash was nothing to sniff at, but it didn’t necessarily go in line with the broken bones and bruises written about in careful, solemn detai. But then again, Morgan had barely tasted what the backlash of a miscast spell could do. Her mother had been so harsh on any of her flaws, she’d never had the chance to fail that spectacularly. “And what’s this about Agnes visiting with her? Are there more entries like this?”

“It’s a very rare person that gets to see these, Morgan,” Leah started. “I still try my best to keep within scribe traditions, but it’s been more than a few times that I’ve had to break them to help someone in town. I’m usually able to pull it off secretly, though. Like you with the zombie stuff. But I thought...there was no way knowing about your personal family history could have been explained away.” She gave Morgan a light nod, signaling it was okay for her to continue. Given Morgan’s history with books, it was clear she could be trusted not to damage anything. She watched Morgan take in the new information with rapt attention, remembering the little details she’d read earlier that week.

“It seems that they were attributed to home things, but I can’t be sure. The fact that I mentioned them in the journals makes me think that they’re supernaturally related. They’d be some sort of spell backlash then, right?” She cleared her throat, gesturing to the page. “But then, there were so many other things to do with Constance that I seemed to comment on, as well”. Leah pressed her lips together, watching Morgan carefully. There had been more than a few entries that her past life had written that touched on something very specific. Something she knew that the Leah, or Lucrecia of the time could definitely relate to. Anges and Constance, Constance and Agnes. It was clear what she had been hinting at. Had she related to it, then, because she’d spent so much of her own time hiding a relationship like theirs? “It seems that I… well I had some suspicions about how much time Constance and Agnes spent together.” Although her head stayed low, her eyes traveled up to meet Morgan’s, searching them to see if they understood. Even now, when Constance was a ghost hell bent on ruining Moran’s life, it felt wrong to out her.

“Some traditions are meant to be broken,” Morgan said with a little smile. “I don’t know your whole scribe-y ethos, obviously, but I would figure that there shouldn’t be anything wrong with using your power or your knowledge to help people who need it. I mean, what’s the point of all that knowledge if you’re just gonna sit on it, right?” She continued to read, having to force herself to slow down and actually take in the old, loopy script and ink smudges. She was so focused on finding something that would say ‘reason for assholery here’ that Leah’s words reached her at a delay. “She worked in the house,” Morgan muttered. “They were close.” Which made the whole thing where Constance ruined her life extra shitty.

Then Morgan found the word. “Romantic.”

“Oh. You mean...Stars, what the hell? Who does something like this to someone they--” Morgan shook her head and kept flipping. “I guess I’m just glad she had her tiny claws in my great-great grandma and not 19th century you. Seems pretty safe to say you dodged a bullet.” Morgan shivered and started flipping ahead to the months before Constance’s death. “See, look, Constance was-- ‘cast aside.’ They fired her, I guess? But it doesn’t say why just that it was ‘unjust’. Thanks for the objectivity, Lucrecia.” Morgan rolled her eyes and skimmed for more clues. “Wait, you weren’t thinking that it was because they--because of Constance and Agnes, right?” She looked back at the book. Worse things happened to girls who kissed each other, even now. She took a slow breath. “I swear to every atom in the universe, if I was cursed and fucking murdered because of a bad breakup and homophobic parents…” Well, Constance didn’t have a head to roll. But Morgan could try and step up her efforts to get everything she needed for the ritual. Get an exorcist on the phone and see if she could speed things up.

Leah smirked at Morgan’s musing, and she nodded in agreement. “Sometimes they are, with restrictions, of course.” She watched Morgan as she read through the pages, taking in the information. It must have been hard for her to be objective, when Constance had caused so much harm to her family already. But Lead felt genuinely that there was something else she needed to understand before she knew the whole picture. “Helping people with the information is what it’s for, I think. And maybe, with the information I found here, we can find a way to help Constance move on peacefully”.

Leah let out a low, slow breath, closing her eyes as Morgan tried to process what she was reading. She turned the book back toward herself briefly, only so she could find a specific section she’d flagged enthusiastically a few pages beyond where her friend had already been reading. “It was a bit more than a bad break up, I think”, she said, pointing out the section of writing. It was the most candid Lucrecia had been about the whole situation, and her past life seemed utterly torn about how to feel. “They were going to...they had plans”, Leah elaborated, pausing a bit to turn the book back and let Morgan read on her own. “But, when they were caught, well…” she licked her lips, sighing sadly. “Agnes sort of… abandoned her. Blamed her, and they forced her out. And Constance was left with… Well, she was left with nothing. No home, no family, not even a future to build. She had nothing, Morgan. After she and Agnes had promised each other everything. For all the time I- or Lucrecia spent talking about her frivolousness, I practically weep here in sorrow for how she was treated after they were caught.” Part of her wondered still, if she had related in some way.

Morgan went stiff at Leah’s mention of the word ‘peacefully.’ It was true that she hadn’t brought up the details of the ritual she was gathering materials for. She didn’t have the stamina to be judged by or lose another friend. But she had kind of hoped that with all the anger and the generational angst she’d been put through, Leah wouldn’t assume giving Constance a peace she hadn’t earned as the default option. Morgan tried to think about at what point things had become so dead-set for her, if she could have ever stomached doing anything different without feeling like her body was going to destroy itself with rage.

She couldn’t.

Destroying her would have been the only way to end the curse, and as those fucking mirrors in that fun house had shown her, there had been no chance in hell Constance’s magic was ever going let her free. She’d been fate-screwed from the beginning and this, numb and broken with no rest or relief in sight, not for now, not for a whole fucking eternity, slipping away from everything, struggling to just manage herself into a ghost of normalcy, having to be bound just so she could take a break from controlling herself all the time.

“That’s just based on what past-you heard from Constance. Who, I would like to point out, also goes around calling herself ‘my justice,’ ‘my fate,’ and my doom.’ You know, when she’s not victim-blaming me for her own bullshit.” Morgan skimmed the words. It was horrible, and some part of it was almost certainly true, but she didn’t feel like dropping everything she’d been working for because, oh, poor baby, abandoned by a girl you liked. Like her curse hadn’t done that to Morgan so many times before White Crest. Like that balanced with all the women in her family she had ground up and broken into monsters.

Morgan closed the book abruptly and stepped away from it, not quite looking at Leah. “Thank you for trusting me, Leah.” She muttered, her voice flattening as she choked down her bitterness. “I appreciate what you’re risking by doing this, and your secret is safe with me.”

Leah alternated between holding her mouth shut tightly and worrying her lower lip with her teeth while Morgan spoke, knowing full well that convincing Morgan to take some pity on Constance wouldn’t be an easy task. It made sense that Morgan felt the way she did- a lifelong curse that stubbornly followed her into her afterlife for something she had no part in was anything but fair. But it also wasn’t fair what had happened to Constance. She worried that striking back instead of trying to find a balance would just continue this cycle further. “Past me seemed rather annoyed by Constance, mostly, or at least turned off by something about her. Maybe I was pretentious, or maybe she was childish- who knows. My point is, despite my aversion to her, I still seem to sympathize and write about what happened to her as if she’s the victim here… It doesn’t negate all the horrible she’s done to your family, obviously, or to you.” She let her eyes leave the dusty tome to find Morgan’s, searching them to try and find a way to get her point across. “Betrayal and tragedy can do something to a person’s psyche, and that’s heightened in the afterlife if left unresolved- that’s all I’m saying. And when all that tragedy is trapped inside someone for years upon years, thinking clearly is not going to be that someone’s forte. This information is for you- it’s yours… I’ve made copies of things I found significant just in case you want to study more”, as she spoke, she slipped out a rather bulky folder from inside her desk, sliding it over to Morgan. “It’s yours to do what you want with it, and despite my opinion, I know whatever you choose to do will be best for you.”

“Hey.” Leah reached out, gently grazing Morgan’s arm, as if that would offer some sort of comfort. She knew it wouldn't, or couldn’t, rather, but it felt like a necessary thing to do before she spoke. “I’m sorry this is happening. You don’t deserve it, and I hope with everything that it’s over soon. You’ll let me know if there’s any other way I can help, right?”

Morgan understood that Leah was just trying to be a good friend: talking as much dirt as she could manage about someone she had never met before who she knew Morgan hated, balancing her automatic sympathy (the same sympathy everyone wanted to give Constance just because she happened to make the decision that bound Morgan’s existence to perpetual suffering at nineteen) with a take she thought Morgan would appreciate more. As if it would make her stance sting a little less if Morgan thought they could bitch and stitch about her after work, as if this was just a case of clashing friend groups. Morgan’s jaw clenched, but she kept her voice low and even and clear as she spoke. “I am intimately aware of how repeated traumas and tragedy can negatively impact someone’s ability to function, much less thrive. I’ve been in and out of therapy for fifteen odd years, processing my steadily growing pile of baggage and the truly awful things that were done to my mother, because of Constance’s curse, that she then passed onto me in her own special way. It’s been over a hundred years of crushing my family until they turned that damage on themselves and each other. By the time I came along, the world I was allowed to have was so small… And, you know, I take a strong prescription that has to be injected directly into my brainstem along with some spinal fluid now that my circulatory system doesn’t work anymore, on account of Constance murdering me six months ago. So I get it. I do. I know suffering does something to you after a while.” Morgan’s lip trembled and she bit down on it to keep steady. “I don’t think I need your copies, but I’ll take them, just in case. Because I know you want me to.”

She flinched at Leah’s touch. Part of her was desperate to let it happen, to clutch her hand as hard as she dared and tell her everything, tell her to please, please understand what it’s like to find out you never had a chance, to be born as some invisible monster’s damage toy, to build up so much hope and wind up on the floor over and over again, to have your wires so fucking crossed you want to hide or break over anything that feels like calm or normal, because that means it’s all a second away from being smashed. She could never seem to find the words, and could never let herself back into those dark rooms that had been cut into her. Everything that happened to her was so absurd, so improbable, and with every curse year, the ordinary mishaps of existence sent spikes of terror into Morgan for days, for weeks. It was the best mindfuck of all because part of it, the worst of it, was real.

Morgan remained still, unable to press in, unable to shake her off. “It’s my damage, my problem. You’ve already done enough for me, Leah. I do genuinely appreciate that, and everything else. I should probably go now, right?”

“I-I didn’t mean to… I just meant that-”. Morgan’s reaction wasn’t at all unexpected, but it still made a mixture of guilt and sympathy ping in Leah’s gut. This situation wasn’t as black and white as either of them wanted it to be, and there was no easy solution- no right opinions. Two wrongs didn’t make a right, but how many wrongs was Morgan supposed to suffer before she was completely broken? Still, there couldn’t have been a better way of dealing with Constance than benevolence, right? Show her the thing she’d be constantly denied all those years ago, show her that change was possible, and send her off to rest peacefully. Whatever afterlife karmic balance existed would deal with her crimes on their own. “I’m sorry”, she said, finally. “There’s no possible way for me to understand where you’re coming from, or how much you’ve been through. My intention was to make this easier, not more difficult for you. I’m sorry if that’s backfired.”

She blinked, pulling her hand away slowly after a small squeeze when she realized Morgan was going to remain stiff. “It’s not only your problem. That’s what you have friends for, you know? Like I said, despite what I think, whatever you choose is what’s best for you, because you’re incredibly intelligent and compassionate, and you know better about this than anyone.” She looked around the empty library, letting out a slow breath as she gently traced the tome’s binding. You can leave, but if you’re up for it, I’d like to treat you for lunch. I never repayed you for letting me stay with you and Deirdre and helping discover my sleepwalking. How about some Al’s so we can forget about this shit? At least for an hour or two.”

Morgan tried her hardest to not cry in front of Leah. Up until this moment she had trusted Leah with just as much as she did the rest of her friends. Not Constance, that had blown up in her face enough times already and she couldn’t being tricked again, but the promise of an answer, something to tie her closer to Agnes, had been too much to say no to. She couldn’t slam the brakes on a trust like that, or tell her body this wasn’t worth it and have it listen. She scrubbed furiously at the corners of her eyes, but at the word ‘intention,’ she let her arms fall limp and let the tears fall, surrendering to embarrassment of showing just how much she’d been hurt, just how tired and alone she felt for a walking corpse that could shamble on forever.

“You’re a really good friend, Leah,” she sniffled, staring at the cuffs on her jacket. “I know you’re trying and that’s, that counts for…a lot.” It was almost worth everything. More than she could reckon on from others she’d known longer. It gave her hope. Only, in the past few weeks, hope had cut worse than any other wound. Morgan let out a shaky exhale. “Um, I don’t really eat out anymore, and playing pretend sometimes makes me really sad, when I remember how good stuff used to taste, so I’m just gonna--” She gestured to the door, tried to smile like she was totally okay and certainly not on the verge of blubbering. “But maybe we’ll do something else another time.” Morgan didn’t have it in her to give even a half hearted wave. She shoved the photocopies into her bag and left, eyes narrowed only on the road ahead and how many steps she needed to get through the next minute, and the next, and the next.

#wr leah #wr chatzy #wr leah chatzy #transgressions #abuse tw #//just gals being pals #// '''soft'''#wickedswriting

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anika-ann · 4 years

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Nothing but the Truth - Pt.8

The Resolution

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4070

Summary: A fake dating AU. You’ve been moping for two days now; despite some surprising visitors in your hospital room, there was one person who haven’t made it yet. It’s just your dumb luck it was the one person that mattered very much.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, brief mentions of violence, fluff, extra dialogue-heavy chapter

Story Masterlist

The first thing your foggy brain registered as you woke up was that you must have a flu. There was no other explanation for how you felt.

Every single muscle, every single joint in your body, simply everything hurt and was so, so heavy… confusing images flickered through your mind, images of a dark room and the burning blue of irises, the pain and the poor attempt at a smile, the ring and leather straps, the maniacal grin on the vendor’s face—it was all adding to the splitting headache that was keeping you from opening your eyes; because no, no sharp light, thank you very much-

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” a velvety voice caressed your ears, gentle fingers lightly squeezing your hand. “You had us worried.”

Mind still fuzzy, you groaned, attempting to squeeze the warm hand back, but with zero result.

God, why is it so, so hard to move--

“I’ll call a doctor, yeah?”

Grunting something incomprehensible in disagreement, because fuck it, I just want to sleep, you drifted back into blissful ignorance, not having a care for the world.

When you woke up again, it was to Sam’s concerned gaze and you did not like that expression on his face one bit.

To your utter shock, he was soon replaced by Tony Stark; though Sam still stayed in your corner while the billionaire gushed about how you had led them right to the bad guy.

“He was crazy, alright. His brain was a like bag of cats and that coming from me? Real deal. Anyway… we couldn’t save anyone else. He was… eh, systematic. Putting trackers into the rings, stalking the couples and then he moved onto his mission of testing the true love bullshit and everyone failed, so he had the shocks to-“

Sam cleared his throat meaningfully as you winced, the ghost of the very unpleasant sensation running through your nerve endings, biting chill curling at the base of your spine, flashes of Steve’s face, the mask, the vendor, the chairs and the electricity crackling-

“Sorry. Just wanted to say… you did really great. You saved a lot of lives by helping us to lock him away. You basically entered the hero kindergarten,” Stark announced almost brightly, earning another ahem from your friend.

You smiled at the genius tiredly. “I’m not planning on joining your superhero group, Mr-“ you faltered when he made a face, “-Tony. And… I’d feel better if we could have—if the people who were taken-“

“Hey. Not your fault,” Sam interrupted you swiftly, voice as serious as his face. “You did amazing and I hope you’re never getting into this kind of shit ever again.”

Now he looked like a father torn between being proud of his kid punching a bully to their face and being exasperated because the said kid had earned an exclusion from school for it. To be fair, he possibly felt exactly like that.

“Yeaaaah, I guess that’s my cue,” Tony backed out with an awkward grin, stopping in the doorway to toss few more words over his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry for the delay. The deactivated trackers took us a while. Get better, hon!”

You couldn’t but grin at his demeanor, but your mood instantly shifted back to grim when you saw the look on Sam’s face. The air of an overexcited genius which Stark was carrying around was sucked out of the room, suddenly making it hard for you to breathe as the horror images filled your mind once more.

You shook your head and gulped, trying to push them back to the corner, focusing on something else entirely; namely on the black eye which Tony was nursing, one of which had a good idea how happened.

“You gave him the black eye, didn’t you?”

Sam’s furrowed brows rose at the probably unexpected remark, but he didn’t bother lying. “Damn right, I did.”

Who would have guessed that two days, only 48 hours, could last an eternity?

You would.

You knew; you had your fair share of experiencing that. Still, every hour crushed your chest as Tony Stark visited once more, Sam was at your bedside at nearly all times, Irma came to see you, hell, even Natasha freaking Romanoff stopped by and yet, yet, no Steve in sight.

Sam had told you he was busy; you could imagine. He must have probably been filling out mission reports, recovering himself, had to answer to authorities, to reporters-- and your eyes filled with stupid and pathetic tears when you thought of the reporters every single time.

Recalling your own encounter with the sensation-hungry sharks, the intrusive memory of the interview wormed its way to your brain and more importantly, to your heart; a memory of the time when everything had seemed alright, better even, almost as if there could be something more —and then Steve had said yes--- and then-

Then all you had was a hazy memory of his voice at your ear when you had been pulled out of unconsciousness, a wistful dream, a fata-morgana which you made up to console your mind when your body couldn’t quite comprehend the exhaustion and pain tearing you from your sleep only to slip back again.

He hadn’t come.

For two full days, he wouldn’t as much as shoot you a text, send flowers or something awfully sweet and Steve-like and you were starting to question just how much of what had happened down there you only imagined.

You were almost certain he had said he loved you, you would swear on it even; but if it truly happened and Steve was still not showing up, well… then it opened a whole new number of possibilities of what his motivation could be.

You refused to believe he didn’t care at all. However, you had met Steve a while ago and if you understood something about him, it was that his sense of duty was just a tiny bit inferior to his sense of loyalty. In other words, he would look out for his friends, as much as they would look out for him – more even.

So, even when Steve was supposedly busy – unless he was out of the country, naturally – he would let himself to be dragged out of the gym, out of his office, dragged away from anything that seemed urgent, yet not urgent enough for him to refuse Sam or anyone else who was concerned and insistent enough.

Hence you coming to the conclusion that he simply didn’t want to spent a single second in your presence, because he had in fact figured out that you had been about to confess your feelings to him and now he was doing everything to avoid you, because he had somehow tricked the machine when saying that stupid ‘yes’ and he had no clue how to turn you down gently now-- because Steve was nothing short of gentle.

Yep, that was your elaborate theory.

Say yay for your super-inventive brain, you thought darkly. And try not to choke at the thought of Steve ghosting you for the rest of your life.

Burying your face in the pillow and letting it soak up with your tears, you lulled yourself to sleep, grateful there was no one in your room at the moment to witness your break-down.

You were woken up from your slumber by three swift knocks on your door. It snapped you to full consciousness at instant, mostly because there weren’t many people who bothered to knock; it was quite common for them – and that included the doctors – to simply enter.

That difference in approach was essential, because your mind traitorously drifted towards the idea of Steve finally paying you a visit and it was both exciting and mortifying.

Also, it gave you hope of which you were certain would be crashed the moment the door open, so there was that.

The knocks echoed in the room once more, this time softer, as if the person behind the door worried about intruding your sleep.

Huh. Cute and considerate. How could you not get your hopes up at that?

“Uhm… come in,” you encouraged the mystery person cautiously, your heart nearly giving out when a blond head hesitantly poked in.

Yep, it’s Steve.

Or maybe I’m just high and I’m imagining him.

Hard to tell.

He offered you the weakest of smiles as if he could hear your thoughts and whispered a very shy ‘hi’.

You felt your heartbeat pounding in your temples in panic and excitement.

“Steve… uhm. H-hey. What-eh- what are you doing here?”

You would have been ashamed for stuttering like an idiot, except you were too busy freaking out over looking like a hobo, having red-rimmed eyes and chest filled with dread at this encounter, feelings spoken and unspoken sitting heavily in your ribcage—and well, generally just losing your mind.

Also, Steve was unable to speak like a normal person as well, so that helped. “I-uhm… came to check up on you.”

He stepped fully into the doorway and you expected him to come all the way in. Instead, he wavered there, not quite entering and it only caused your chest to tighten. You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying your best to seem collected and not like desperately looking for a clue, anything to give away a single of his thoughts.

Was he hesitating because he wasn’t sure if he was welcomed after ghosting you or was it because he wanted to have an escape route open? He was a strategist, after all; it would be wise to have a chance at escaping the moment he sensed the situation going off rails.

A somewhat torn expression crossed over his face, followed by an expectant one, and you realized he must have been waiting for you to lead.

Again.

Ever the gentleman.

You would have appreciated it and possibly melt into a puddle of sappy goo, because Steve was a sweetheart always… except you hadn’t a clue what you wanted and where you wanted this to lead—well, you did know, but you doubted that would happen.

Your heart ached, a reminder of his confession possibly not being sincere and you being left on your own in your pining.

Shaking your head to free yourself from the cage of your own mind, you attempted a small smile, one that probably came off as super-awkward.

But he needed to cut you some slack, alright.

“Oh. I’m fine,” you finally said, answering the question not quite asked. “I mean… my head spins a little-“ And you’re not helping. “-but mostly I’m here because Tony Stark is being an overbearing ass. I don’t think he would admit that, but he probably feels guilty.”

It was another conclusion your brilliant mind had come to. You know, apart from the fact Steve was ghosting you because he was waking up in cold sweat dreaming about you being interested in him and all that.

But why were you telling him about Tony? Were you really that desperate to see him for a bit longer that you babbled? So desperately trying to postpone the inevitable conversation for later, because once it happened… God only knew what the outcome would be?

Your ears might have been playing tricks on you, but you would swear you heard him murmur ‘I know how that feels’ under his breath.

Hm.

“Good,” he stated, nodding his head as if he needed to assure himself that it was indeed good. “Uhm… it’s good that you’re almost fine.”

“Yeah.”

He was still standing in the doorway and your eyes started burning with unshed tears.

Small talk. Awkwardness. Things unsaid, hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Was this how it was going to be between the two of you now?

And what else did you expect it would be like after you pretended to be a couple? After you kissed? And got tortured together, just in the case you forgot about that?

“What about you?” you forced yourself to ask, willing your voice not to crack. “How you’ve been?”

“Huh? Oh, uhm. Good. Yeah, good. Busy.”

“Right. I-- uhm… I bet-“

“No, actually… that’s a lie.”

You blinked, utterly taken aback at the blatant admission. It was so unlike Steve to be this cruelly honest that you barely registered that his words felt like a punch to your face.

Not that you had ever been punched to your face. Only nearly electrocuted. Which you guessed wasn’t any better.

“Oh.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling bitterly, still not moving from the fucking doorway and you wished you were in his place, so you could just flee.

“I spent half of the time staring at a wall in my office.”

“Oh… uhm.” And like an idiot, because you were one and you had no clue how to react besides bursting into tears, because he hadn’t come to see you and had been staring at a wall instead, you said: “I mean… I guess Stark Tower has some pretty interesting walls.”

This time when he chuckled, the sound was just as breathless, but lighter. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and gestured towards the chair by your bed.

“May I?”

No. Nope. You let him in here and the more you look at him and do small talk, the more you’ll want to cry. Tell him no-

“Sure.”

Idiot.

Closing the door and finding his seat, he spoke again.

“Thank you. I… I should have visited. But… I spent hours and hours wondering how to apologize, and I know that it isn’t the best excuse, but I- you--“

You tried to blink away your tears, grateful for Steve staring at the bedsheets and not watching your face when talking. That would be pretty humiliating if he saw your awe-struck, humiliated and entirely confused face; this already was enough.

Apologize? For what? For lying and getting away with it? For telling the truth and then ignoring you? For pretending to care? For caring and suddenly not caring enough? Or for what?

What, what, what-

“-what happened in that basement-“ he continued and the tone he spoke with was already too much to bear— you knew at instant that you didn’t want the answers to your questions.

Not if it meant that you‘d have your heart broken, a wedge driven into the already wide enough raw crack in it.

“Steve-“

“I got you hurt. And I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning his elbows onto his thighs, fingers interlacing as his hands hang loosely between his knees. Wait, what? “I am so, so sorry. That never should have happened-“

Your heart skipped a pleased and relieved beat.

You shouldn’t be getting your hopes up just yet – this wasn’t about what you thought it was, he wasn’t telling you he hadn’t been lying down there, but this possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind. It should have, it made perfect sense that he was feeling guilty, because he was the captain of the team, responsible for them—

You were so wrapped up in your own head, clinging to the fact he admitted he loved you (or not, who the fuck knew), that you hadn’t even considered this.

The revelation explained so much and sounded much more like him than you could imagine and your mind started racing with new possibilities. Maybe… maybe he didn’t—or did he- this was far from him denying that he never wanted to talk to you again and had literally nothing to do with your little truth-or-lie issue, yet you felt an enormous weight fell from your shoulders, a blanket of lead that had been lying on your chest for a while now lift.

You wiggled up so you could sit straighter in the bed.

“Steve, that guy was insane. He drugged you with god knows what, he had you-- wired to something-“

“We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.“

Oh. Oh.

You gulped, your head pounding all over again, ribcage constricting.

Yeah. You supposed that was true. It didn’t mean that it hurt less; no, hearing him to say it out loud hurt more, actually, however, you tried your best to focus on the problem at hand, which was giving Steve whatever forgiveness he craved, no matter it wasn’t his fault in the first place.

“Well. I was the first to agree, if I remember correctly and you were radically against. So if anything, I kinda got us into that mess, so-…”

His cerulean eyes bored into yours, sorrow, self-torment and stubbornness incarnated, as he interrupted you.

“Maybe, but I agreed then and I promised to protect you. You trusted me and I failed you,” he accented, anger lacing his voice. He sighed then when he took a note of that and slowly breathed in and out, sounding much softer when he spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

It was as if you hadn’t said a word in the past minute.

“Steve, you’re… you’re just human. Serum or not, you’re- hell, even superman had his kryptonite and he’s fictional. You’re just— what--what he did to me--- after which I’ll be alright, by the way – that happening doesn’t make you any less of a hero,” you explained sincerely, minutely forgetting your weeping uncertain heart. “I know that you did everything you could. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

The implication that there was something else he should apologize for hang heavy in the air.

“I… about what I said down there-“

“Steve, don’t. You don’t need to explain anything. Whatever happened, however you managed to do that-“

“You think I lied,” he stated dully and you avoided his gaze at that.

You didn’t respond.

If you were being honest, you weren’t sure what to think anymore. Everything was just so damn confusing; his yes, his apology, his sorrow, him avoiding you… it was making you dizzy and it all the wondering had you honestly exhausted.

“I’m a coward.”

That got you snap your head back to him, hundreds of question marks in your eyes. “What?”

A humorless chuckle was the answer.

“I didn’t lie. I mean, I did lie down there once, and the machine caught that. And I got you hurt-“

You wanted to protest, because you’d been over this, but his previous words rang in your ears, confusing and disgustingly hopeful.

He hesitantly reached for your hand, gingerly taking it between both of his own, thumbs tenderly caressing its back. You swallowed the choked noise threatening to escape your throat at the soft touch; deliberate, yet seemingly not uncomfortable to him.

“I was forced to admit how I felt right after I got you hurt and I had no single clue what to do with that. Still don’t. I-I spend hours just sitting here and staring, trying to figure out-“

You successfully – ha, you wished – tuned out the first part, focusing on the latter one, not any less surprising.

“You’ve been here?”

He seemed distracted by that question. “Yeah, uhm-“

“Were… were you here when I woke up?” you asked, another foggy memory flickering in front of your eyes, a memory of him in the chair, the concerned frown on his face, dark circles under his dry eyes, raspy voice-

“You… you remember that? You weren’t even conscious for a full minute. You were out again before the doctor arrived, both times.”

‘Both times.’ He had witnessed you conscious twice.

Just how long had he spent here by your sleeping form?

“I thought-“ I though that I dreamed that up. Apparently, you hadn’t. He… he had been there with you. Oh. “I—so you- oh.”

He waited patiently before all of his words registered in your brain; including the ones about-

“You… weren’t lying?” you asked breathlessly, astonished and warmed from inside out for the second time in the past few days as the realization took roots in your brain, finding the remnants of your previous belief and euphoria.

“No. Not when I- when I said-”

“-yes,” you finished for him, your lips parting in amazement, your heart fluttering in joy.

There was no need to specify which question you were talking about – it was clear as day; about the only one that truly mattered.

“And I’m an idiot. I hurt you again, letting you think that I didn’t care at all and I should have come here, but I had no idea what to do next and if you-- what did you think about it- and I got you hurt-“

“We’ve been over this. Not your fault,” you chastised his distractedly, staring at his face because he was breathtaking and he… he-

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously and you couldn’t but give him the reassurance he was no doubt seeking; you knew you would in his place.

“I… I was about to say yes. And it wouldn’t have been a lie either,” you offered quietly, a slow smile spreading on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a watery smile, tears still crinkling in the corners of his eyes as he carefully raised your hand, watching every micro-expression on your face, searching for the tinniest trace of disapproval; finding none, his lips brushed your knuckles with the gentlest kiss.

You melted into the pillow, feeling warm all over, your smile turning goofy as you finally, finally got your answer and wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs, because it was delightful.

Steve loved you.

Steve loves me.

And you loved him.

There was a mess for you to deal with for sure, a lot of explaining ahead, but… what else than the fact that you loved each other was important here?

Nothing. Not really, not at the moment at least.

Something told you this might be the true start of a beautiful relationship.

The non-faked kind.

--and you hunch turned out to be true.

The next day, the very hour of your discharge from the med-wing, Steve was waiting for you; all ready with a car to drive you home, a bouquet of cream-colored tulips in his hand to make your day downright wonderful and for some reason, also with daggers in his glare whenever he sized up the nice doctor who had been keeping you company until Steve arrived.

It earned Steve a kiss on his cheek as he led you to the car with his palm lightly resting on your lower back and if your lips brushed his before you got in, well, no one needed to know.

“Mr. Wilson, you wished me to tell you when the confessions would be made. They were just now.”

Sam glanced up from the screen and stopped scrolling mindlessly through his phone, letting out a long exhale.

Judging by the not-so-ominous tone of the AI – nope, he would never get over the fact that an artificial intelligence could speak in different ways and be sassy on top of everything – the talk didn’t end up tragically. At least Sam hoped; he didn’t think there had been much space for messing it up worse, to be honest.

“Thanks, Friday. It was about damn time. How did it go?”

A record of the infamous interview, showing his two friends making out on live TV lighted up his phone—fucking rude to hack his phone like this, especially showing him that.

“About like this, Mr. Wilson,” Friday explained nonchalantly as if that fucking thing wasn’t in control of his phone.

Sam breathed through the shock caused by the intrusive AI, focusing on the good news before planning on giving Stark another black eye because what the hell, SOME privacy left would be nice and very much appreciated-

“Didn’t exactly need the visual,” he muttered, adding a louder ’but thanks.’

His screen returned to normal and he found himself too tired to get up and find Stark right now; he could always throw it to his face later.

Speaking of planning on throwing words and things at someone’s faces…

Sam realized he had to stand up anyway, because he had a different job to do, now that the two idiot friends of his finally made it past the mutual pining phase and actually got together.

Shoving his phone to the pocket of his jeans, he went to polish his guns; just in case that the big blond dumbass planned on making Sam’s favorite almost-sister cry again.

Note: White Tulips – representing purity, innocence, forgiveness and respect, they would be a great flower for a wedding or to give with an apology. (Cream-colored tulips are closely related and have also a meaning of commitment.)

Tags:

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Thank you for reading and leaving likes! You’ve all been amazing :-* Special thanks for commenting and/or spreading my work, it is greatly appreciated ❤️

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anexplanationofunfortunateevents · 4 years

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BUT HIS [SON’S] [IRRELEVANT AND PROBABLY FAKE] EMAILS!

In a world where people were trying to do their jobs, this story would not make sense to anyone, now or ever. But because we live in the dumbest fucking timeline, you need to know the shape of the Trump cartel’s latest disinformation campaign against the American democratic process.

Former Vice President Biden is being attacked through his family, which means that his family’s story is the vital context here. Back in the ‘70s, when he was Senator-Elect Biden, his family was in a terrible car crash. His first wife and their young daughter were killed. His sons Beau and Hunter survived, though Hunter suffered a traumatic head injury. The boys went about 80% Parent Trap to convince their dad to marry his current wife Jill, and both grew up and went to law school. Beau became the attorney general of Delaware before dying of cancer in 2015. Hunter went on to a lucrative career in the private sector despite an intermittent struggle with substance abuse, which is a common aftereffect of psychological trauma and brain injuries.

Republicans generally believe that being a Yale Law grad with a wealthy father and a history of substance abuse qualifies someone for the Supreme Court, but for some deeply principled and intellectually honest reason, they have decided that Hunter Biden’s employment in the field of transportation and energy can only be a sign of spectacular corruption. So nefarious and sinister was the Biden family’s treachery that they managed to destroy every iota of evidence before multiple investigations by Senate Republicans could find any of it!

Obviously this little tabloid narrative was derailed when Trump went and got his dumb ass impeached over it. But it’s the middle of October, Trump’s down ten points in the polls, and he made the mistake of replacing the wildly unethical FBI director who threw the last election for him with a guy who at least knows to act professional, so he’s looking for a Hail Mary pass. In the wackiest of coincidences, some random Trumper had what he says might be Hunter Biden’s various hard drives, one of which apparently contained a backup of his most sensitive videos and text messages, in his computer repair shop. Of course this man did the only sensible thing and, uh, copied every file in the drives one at a time before bringing it to Trump’s TV lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, and then the FBI. Giuliani, who was a former federal prosecutor before becoming the former mayor of New York City and current new bestie of Random Tech Store Guy, handled this situation with the assistance of someone who has a mere “50/50 chance” of being a Russian agent. (Poor old Rudy does appear to have limited communication skills beyond his personal safe space of a noun, a verb, and 9/11.) It’s unclear to me whether Giuliani or Tech Store Guy was the one who shared the hard drives with Steve Bannon, the white supremacist propagandist and former Trump campaign manager who is currently under indictment for fraud.

As with a lot of Trump trash, it’s impossible to describe without sounding like you’re exaggerating for comedic effect, but the stakes are too high for any of it to be funny.

Over the weekend, a right wing tabloid published what it said were emails from one of Hunter’s laptops. (Reporters at that particular tabloid do not believe the story.) The emails don’t show any wrongdoing by the vice president and seem fake for a lot of reasons – but never mind, the bullshit laundering worked well enough to get some supposed actual reporter to harass Vice President Biden about it, and then a bunch of other supposed actual reporters to collapse into their fainting couches when Biden responded with appropriate impatience.

That apparently didn’t have the hoped-for effect. The next day, what appeared to be a series of highly emotional text exchanges between the vice president and his son appeared. There was nothing even vaguely scandalous in these, to a point where it’s not immediately obvious why anyone would bother publishing them. My best guess is that it’s meant to throw Biden off his stride by trying to hurt and humiliate his son, though it may also be an attempt to soften the ground for an even more theatrical reveal.

A lot of Very Serious Politics-Knowers have deluded themselves that the But Her Emails debacle of 2016 was the legitimate kernel of a story that was “blown out of proportion.” But Her Emails was about people a) having some degree of misogyny, conscious or unconscious, which led to a bias against Clinton and b) wanting to tell other people and/or themselves that it wasn’t because she was a woman. They understand that the But Her Emails-ing was a) enormously consequential and b) incredibly dumb. They don’t want to think too hard about that tension, because if they did, they’d have to take responsibility for how the dumb thing became so consequential.

Meanwhile, Trump campaign insiders know better than the rest of us how much they cheated in 2016, but they’re still people and therefore susceptible to the cognitive bias that they got what they wanted because they earned it somehow. The closest thing they had to an above-board strategy was yelling “emails!!” a lot, so they expect yelling “emails!!” to be successful again. They’re just desperately throwing pasta to see what sticks – but Joe Biden is a man, so they’re throwing it at the theory of relativity instead of the refrigerator door.

There are differences between 2020 and 2016 which are significantly less depressing. Trump’s co-conspirators are resorting to ridiculous methods because so many of the key players who made the 2016 operation work are actually facing punishment for some of their crimes. Paul Manafort is under house arrest. Wikileaks guy Julian Assange is in jail. Social media companies, especially Twitter, were prepared to slam the brakes. Some mainstream reporters have refused to learn their lesson from 2016, but others were prepared to be critical. And, I cannot emphasize this last one enough, voters are more prepared for it. So Team Trump isn’t as good at doing the crimes as they were four years ago, even if they were as good at it they wouldn’t be able to use traditional and social media as effectively as they did last time, and even if they could adjust to that they’d have a harder time manipulating us. Maybe it got frustrating and boring for you to hear and talk about the 2016 attack for years on end, but the whole point of that was that we needed to be ready for exactly this scenario. So far, it seems to be working better than I would have hoped.

Obviously, this is infuriating. All else aside, putting this enormous, invasive pressure on a private citizen’s mental health and substance abuse problems is abusive and gross and genuinely dangerous. I don’t give a shit who his dad is, it’s fucking evil. We need to be ready to remember everybody involved in pushing this story – not just the con artists behind it, but the “mainstream” reporters who validated it in their behavior toward the Biden campaign or who spread what were (allegedly) entirely personal text messages of no news value.

But first, we need to win next month. On that front, I want to reiterate what I said when they first started cooking up this story late last year: it’s actually encouraging that they’re resorting to something like this, because it means they’re flailing. They haven’t been able to make FBI Director Wray abuse his power in the way former Director Comey did, despite the fact that the only real tool they had to manipulate Comey four years ago was taunting and pressure from conservative media. They don’t have a cutout like Wikileaks to launder the documents for them. Most importantly, they’re trying to influence voters’ opinions of Biden because they think voters’ behavior still matters. The only thing Trump knows in life is how to get away with a scam. If they thought they had it “rigged” they would be trying to act normal, because spending the three weeks before a heist reminding your marks of what fucking criminals you are doesn’t help you get away with it.

One last thing: this is a less obvious reason why it’s important to vote as early as you can. All these other increasingly desperate stunts depend on the ability to overwhelm everyone all at once, without enough time for them to be debunked or brought back into proportion. The more early votes are in the bank, the less effective their next stink bomb can be, and if it can’t be effective, there are a lot of people around Trump who would rather save their own asses from prison than help him throw it.

#trump russia #disinformation #joe biden #election 2020

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divineluce · 4 years

Text

What Good Can Drinking Do? || Nicole & Luce

Timing: August 26th

Location: Around the Bend

Tagging: @nicsalazar & @divineluce

Description: Nicole and Luce bump into each other after a long night of drinking and unwittingly become knights of the drunken table.

“C’mon, Luce, you’ve had enough. Time to call it quits.” Jake said as he gestured for one of the guys doing security with his hand. Scowling, Luce stood up from the bar, the room spinning a bit as she did so. “Fuck off, Jake. I know when I’ve had enough. I’m just,” Her words slurred together slightly as she headed towards the door, “Leaving because I want to.” She insisted before stepping out into the warm air of summer. Letting out a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair before heading down the street towards Ink Inc. She could crash on the couch there for the night. Sleep it off. Sleep off the bourbon she’d drank to forget how her mother had abandoned the three of them. Sleep off the whiskeys she’d consumed because of the weirdness with Remmy. Sleep off the scotch she’d drunk because of her fucked up situation with Nadia. Sleep it all of and just be left with a hangover in the morning. As she headed down the street, she blinked blearily as she realized she wasn’t the only one stumbling around The Bend late at night. As the other person neared, a drunken smile slid across her face. “Oh. Sup Nicole.”

Nicole couldn’t remember that last time she had been drunk in the streets of White Crest. Probably two or three years ago. She was supposed to be past those days. Or so she thought at least. She wasn’t sure what had triggered her to drink more than she could handle. Maybe it hadn’t been the best week, maybe she had only miscalculated, either way it was too late to ponder on it. What mattered was that she made it home safe. When she left the bar, she let out a breath, willing her brain to focus. She took a few slow steps, hands reaching all over in search of her phone. Where had she put the damn thing? Uber was probably the way to go, if only she could manage to get one. Frustrated, she continued walking, slightly aware that there was someone approaching. As the figure came closer, she realized it was a familiar face. Relieved, she stopped fumbling for her phone, forgetting why she even needed it for. Her lips pressed together into a thin smile, and she tilted her head up in acknowledgement. “Luce...” she could tell she also had some drinks on her too. “Where you going...all good?”

Running a hand through her hair, Luce did her best to focus on Nicole’s face, though it wasn’t easy in her current state of inebriation. Phew. She’d had more than she’d thought, fuck. Waving a hand, she grinned slightly as she saw that Nicole was also in a similar situation. “Ah, I was just headed back to Ink. Bartender at Soul figured I’d had enough so I’m… making my way downtown.” She laughed, shaking her head at the stupid song that had popped in her head. “Well, down-Bend. Howsabout you?” She asked, the words slurring together slightly as she spoke. “And yeah. Yeah.” Luce paused, her mind drifting back to Remmy’s face, the way she’d held them in the hallway of Morgan’s home, back to the messages from Nadia, desperately trying to hold on. “I’m super good.” She gave two thumbs up and a drunken grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Gotcha, you do--you do look like..." nodding, she trailed off, weakly gesturing an invisible bottle. Eyebrows knitted together, and she hummed for a moment as her brain searched for words to answer the question. Why did she make it all the way from The Outskirts to the Bend just to drink? She vaguely remembered. It probably made a lot of sense when she was sober. "Getting an Uber" at that, she reached the inside of her jacket, finally finding her phone. She paused though, when she looked up after a few attempts at unlocking her phone and noticed Luce's face. She wasn't exactly great at reading people, but even she could tell Luce was bullshitting her. Had she been sober, Nicole wouldn't have pushed, she respected everyone's decision to lie or keep stuff to themselves. "Tell that to your face, dude" she nodded, lifting her arm and poking Luce in the forehead. Leaning against the wall, she grinned lazily. "We punching anyone?"

“That obvious, huh?” Luce said, letting out a puff of air in amusement. As Nicole pulled out her phone and leaned against the wall of one of the buildings near them, she stared out idly into the darkness of the Bend. Maybe it was just the slight ringing in her head, the pleasant buzz of alcohol making her senses nice and dull, but it seemed quiet. Quieter than normal. Most nights, she wouldn’t be the only one stumbling back home drunk-- there were all sorts who wandered around this side of town, good and bad. Nicole’s sudden poke to her forehead caught her off guard and she raised a hand to lightly swat her away. “Yeah, yeah--” She said, about to rattle off some insult to take the pressure off her when she heard a scream pierce through the night. Standing bolt upright, Luce looked at Nicole in alarm. “We might be. Fuck. Did you hear where that came from?”

“Yeah, yeah” Nicole nodded absentmindedly, struggling for a second to recall what Luce was replying to. Glancing down at her old phone, she grew annoyed as she waited for the app to load. Maybe it was time to finally invest in a something newer. The scream took her by surprise, which was unusual for Nicole. Just then, as she managed to look at Luce, Nicole felt herself sober up slightly. She pushed herself off the wall, looking back to the street she came from. If only her senses weren’t so numb, it would’ve been a lot easier to figure things out. Her and Luce’s breathing seemed to be overpowering any sound her ears could pick up. She huffed, willing herself to focus. A beat, two beats, and then she heard it. “Couple of streets down… turning the corner” she wasn’t as sure of her accuracy as she would be sober, but it had to count for something. “C’mon, that can’t be good” smacking Luce in the arm, she took off —or rather stumbled—in the direction of the scream.

Nicole’s slap to the arm sent Luce staggering forward, but that was just what she needed to get her stubborn feet moving. She followed behind Nicole, doing her best to keep the other woman in her field of vision as she ran after her. The streetlights were shifting slightly, the world spinning as the two of them made their way towards whoever had screamed. If she had been more sober, Luce might have questioned how Nicole had been able to figure out where the cry had come from. But right now? With alcohol, adrenaline, and no shortage of rage coursing through her system? She didn’t really care. As they rounded the corner, Luce was startled to see that a woman was standing there, alone. But, she looked visibly shaken, the strap of her handbag shredded. “Are you okay?” Luce asked, slightly out of breath and slurring.

In hindsight, attempting to sprint to the location she believed the commotion was, had been a poor idea. It didn’t take long for Nicole to figure that out. Still, powered by the adrenaline and the booze clouding her judgement, she continued on, almost face planting the ground at least once. Still, she retained some gracefulness, if anything thanks to her ancestors,recovering before she hurt herself. She was the first to turn the corner, spotting a woman clearly rattled trying to gather herself. She reached out, trying to hold the woman's shoulder but miscalculated the distance. She ended up grasping nothing but air instead. “...Kay?” breathing out, she managed to get half her sentence. Luce seemed to arrive just after her, and did a better job at getting words out. She looked around in the meantime, eyebrows furrowed. If the attacker had attempted to steal the woman’s purse it made no sense for them to run before succeeding. “Where is--” wondering out loud, she turned the opposite direction. Apart from them, it was unusually empty. Yet still, something in her could tell they weren’t alone. “Got a look on your attacker?”

“I-- I don’t-- it was like, someone came out of nowhere--” The woman said, trembling with fear. Luce did her best to maintain some amount of composure, but the alcohol in her system was making it hard for her to stand completely still. Her head bobbled as she swayed, her feet stumbling as the world tilted beneath her. Ohhhh, running had been a bad fucking idea. Leaning against the nearby lamp post, she nodded at the woman emphatically. “Yeah, what she said. D’you get a good look at who attacked you?” Luce asked. The shaken woman shook her head, clutching onto her ruined handbag with a tight hand. Letting out a puff of air that blew her bangs from her forehead, Luce nodded and tilted her head. “Your car nearby? Or house or whatever?” She asked, “You oughta get home. The Bend’s not a super safe place.” Luce said. If she’d been a little more observant, if she’d been a little less drunk, if she’d just listened… maybe she might have noticed the shadowy thing lurking behind the post office box.

Nicole’s eyes darted from Luce to the woman, slowly taking in the words they were saying. Her chest was still heaving after running a few streets. For a brief second she frowned, unable to remember why she and Luce had decided it would be a good idea to run while drunk, but as her eyes landed on the distraught woman once again, all the things spinning around her slowed down. “Yeah, yeah...only idiots walk alone ‘round these places”. Despite looking the worse of the two, Luce seemed to be handling the situation decently, so Nicole’s attention drifted once again to her surroundings. At the distance she could hear the loud, pounding music of the many dance clubs in the neighborhood, but focusing on everything close to her was difficult. Her body turned instinctively, stepping away from the pair as she eyed the dumpsters and the trash bags spilling some feet away. The sensation they were being watched was hard to shake. Maybe it wasn’t her annoying gift warning her this time, but just drunken paranoia. However, Nicole was certain she had seen part of a tail behind the post office box. Strange, as all she could see were shadows. There was some sort of animal scent in the air, but in her state Nicole couldn’t be sure of what type. It wasn’t common. Turning back to Luce and the woman, she caught her explaining how she lived a few blocks away and was taking a shortcut home. “Vural. Gotta get her somewhere safe. Her place isn’t that far, right?” she interrupted, eyes still trained anxiously on the box.

Rolling her eyes at the other woman’s words, Luce offered her most winning smile at the frightened woman. “She didn’t mean to call you an idiot. She’s just drunk. Well, so’m I, but I’m not calling people names.” She said as she did her best to stand upright on her own without the assistance of the lamppost. Squinting at the other woman, she let out a loud puff of air, trying to sober up a little. Christ. She’d really gone hard. Fuck. The woman shifted from foot to foot anxiously, more distressed than she had when they’d first arrived, but that went right over Luce’s head. “My apartment is only a few blocks away and my car’s in the shop. I didn’t think anything would happen if I just took a shortcut home.” The woman mumbled. Luce nodded, though she wasn’t paying much attention. She was too busy fumbling around in the pocket of her shorts, cursing quietly in Turkish at her silver knuckle dusters. They’d gotten stuck and eventually, Luce gave up. Whatever. At Nicole’s words, Luce snapped her fingers and shot a pair of finger guns in her direction. “Yeah-- we should definitely do that. How’d you feel about an escort home? Not one of those escorts. I’m not that easy.” She snorted before patting Nicole on the shoulder. “How’s about it, Nicky?” Luce said, not seeing how the other woman was staring intently at the letter box.

“Yeah I did” shooting a glance at Luce, Nicole didn’t understand the problem in her words. She scoffed, wanting to explain herself. “We’re all idiots here” to her, ignoring the dangers of walking at night in the worst neighborhood was pretty high in terms of idiocy. The kind of reckless decision only drunks would make. She stopped herself though, when she noticed the woman next to them bouncing anxiously. Guilt turned her stomach. What was the point in being an asshole? Bringing both hands to her face she rubbed her eyes vigorously, wishing it would magically sober her up. She hated being wasted and interacting with people, it usually went even worse than her sober interactions. She let out a groan, shaking her head. “Sorry, it’s...” she looked at the woman, offering an apologetic smile. “You've been through enough in one night, ignore me”. The escort joke went over her head, and she gave Luce a confused look. What was she on about? “How about…?” she trailed off, struggling to follow the conversation. She focused on the box again, still sensing something behind it. It appeared that if she and Luce stayed with the stranger, whatever was waiting on to pounce wouldn’t dare. Why did that make any sense? Nicole didn’t have the mental capacity to ponder on it. “Yes. Yeah, we’ll get you home. She really knows her way around the bend, don’t you Vural?”. Placing a hand on the woman's back, she let her lead the way, careful to keep her from the letter box.

“Yeah, sure do,” Luce snorted, shaking her head vigorously at the joke before looking at the woman who was still eyeing them with a nervous expression on her face. “We just wanna help, honest.” She said. As Nicole reached out a guided the woman away, Luce watched as some of the tension faded from her body. “Okay. Okay, thank you. I’d really appreciate the company.” She said with a relieved smile. Luce nodded, her head bobbling more than she’d intended. “For sure, for sure. Let’s get you home, okay?” She said before glancing at Nicole. The other woman seemed distracted, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. Lowering her voice to what she thought was a whisper, Luce nudged the woman with her elbow. “If somethings bugging you, let’s get her home first, cool?”

Nicole didn’t say much for the remaining of the walk. Her focus split between her efforts to keep one foot in front of the other, and shielding the woman from the mysterious attacker behind the letter box. As they walked past it, her head turned to check once again for any signs of whatever had hurt the woman. She believed she had seen a dark shadow move behind the box again, but no visible body. Was it all in her brain? Or maybe...it was a ghost? Nicole scoffed shortly after the idea came to her. No. That was even more stupid. They wouldn’t have shadows, which she definitely saw, right? Thank god she didn’t say that out loud, not even drunkenness would’ve justified that. Her thoughts were luckily interrupted by an elbow to her arm. “Weird shit, man. Weird shit going on” she retorted, lips barely moving. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the night could’ve ended much differently for the woman she was guiding home. Nicole could still hear her erratic heartbeat and she was certain it wouldn't change until she was safely home. “I’m crashing wherever you do, by the way. Can’t take my ass home tonight”. Her last words floated between the three for a while, as they silently made it to the woman’s place. There would be time for regrets in the morning --the hangover would definitely punish her-- but even if she had promised not to get wasted again, part of her was glad she and Luce had been at the right place and the right time to give someone a hand.

#p: wgcdd #chatzy #wickedswriting #p: nicole salazar

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Vince and the Phone

A phone call between Vincent Shield and his girlfriend, Tara. Tara belongs to @fairybean101 and is used with permission! Thanks for letting me use your girl to talk some sense into my poor movie star.

This post references Who’s the Better Box Boy by @shameless-whumper heavily, so please read that if you haven’t yet to understand Vince’s reactions

CW: Referenced past violent assault, and referenced psat and current noncon

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @lump-of-whump, @whimpers-and-whumpers

He can’t stop fucking watching it.

Vince finally gives up and calls her - one benefit of their relationship for him has been Tara’s simple willingness to pick up the phone so he can ask her to yell at him any time, day or night. Tara never seems to sleep, she’s burning herself out rescuing all those poor Box Boys and Babes, and so she’s never more than a few moments of ringing away.

And she always picks up when Vince calls.

When Eli had initially asked him to consider acting as some kind of go-between for the pet lib people - he’d known Eli for a while, they ran in some of the same circles sometimes - he’d nearly said no.

But he wanted to help; even then, he’d understood something was really, really wrong with the whole human pet system. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, then, because why not let people sign their lives away? Vince did that every time he signed a contract for a new film and had to stop doing anything but working out and eating stupid plain chicken for months.

But Eli had known more than he let on, at first, and a couple of years later Vince was sitting up in the middle of the night, half-plastered, replaying a video of some poor son of a bitch with Vince’s face laying on his back, ankles flush to thighs, legs spread.

The red in the poor thing’s face, embarrassed and ashamed of something that, according to Tara, he couldn’t have refused to do even if he’d wanted to.

And to Vince, it looked like he wanted to refuse.

He caught the look the other one - the one that the Host kept - gave, presumably, Owen behind the camera. Flat and controlled, an attempt to stay expressionless, but Vince could read the helpless fury there.

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy,” Vince muttered, raking a hand back through his hair as he pulled up Tara’s number. “Both of us get pissed as hell and both of us do fucking nothing about it. At least you have an excuse, I guess. I’m just a goddamn coward.”

Tara’s number was next to an icon of her face, a serious scowl with her red hair a halo around her head. She hadn’t wanted Vince to take the photo, but she’d been the one to choose which of the seven he took got set as her icon on his phone.

It took four rings for Tara to pick up.

“What dumbass thing are you doing now?” Her voice is sharp as ever, but laced, he likes to think, with friendly affection. “It’s two in the morning, Vince.”

“Don’t yell at me for being up, I’m between projects and I always get all weird with my sleep schedule when I’m not working. What are you doing up?”

“Handling some new reports from another group,” Tara replies, and Vince can hear her shuffling papers in the background. “They got word on an upcoming raid, managed to split up their documents and records before the cops found them. We took in a few of their rescues, a couple of other groups took some. All the rescues are taken care of, which is what matters, but shit.”

“Shit…?”

“They’re hitting too many groups. I think someone is talking. But you don’t want to hear about my shit tonight… what’s up, Vince?” There’s a pause and before he can answer, Tara asks softly, “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Vince glances down at his laptop, where the video is currently paused, right on the shot of the look of pure unadulterated trying-to-hide-it murder Colton - who is apparently Dustin Anderson, pet liberation activist, and oh shit what a fucking ominous soundtrack that knowledge starts up inside his head - is giving Owen Grant. He moves the timer back and sets it up to replay the look on the Kauri kid’s face the second he heard the Host say Position 34.

The red flush, humiliated and nervous, the subtle sidelong glance to the other pet only to see the confusion on his face and realize oh shit, I’m the only one of us who knows this.

Did pets judge each other? Did Kauri leave and the other one, the Dustin one, think oh, that one’s a whore when they left?

Probably not.

No, the reaction shots gave too much away for Vince to even think unkind bullshit like that. No, the pets clearly cared, at least a little. The rescues they brought in mostly avoided each other at first, while all the conditioning was in place, but these two look like maybe they wouldn’t. Or at least not as much.

He rewinds again right to the start, watching for the moment Owen Grant looks up, surprised, those green eyes on the camera so soft and friendly.

“He’s such a fucking liar, Tara,” Vince says, and his voice shakes.

“Yeah, okay, so you’re watching it.” Tara sighs, and he can picture it - rubbing the spot between her eyebrows with her index finger and thumb, taking a deep breath. “Vince, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t punish yourself this way.”

“He’s a liar. He goes on camera - what fucking right does he have to do that, by the way - and he stands right fucking there and lies about what happened between us, lies about what I, what I did with him-”

“No.” Tara’s voice is sharp, and it cuts through Vince immediately. His mouth snaps shut. “What he did to you, Vince. We’ve talked about this. You didn’t do anything but go to see your friend one night when he seemed down. Everything after he put the drink in your hand is what he did to you.”

There’s a silence and Vince tries to tell himself she’s right. She’s always right.

Eventually, he gives up to the pull of just letting Tara run the show and smiles, wondering if she’ll hear the expression in his voice. “Yeah, okay. But still… you know he didn’t get someone like that Box Boy by accident. You know he lied about that, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tara’s voice is clipped, and goes slightly quieter. “We got a potential informant in the company, and I’ve just seen Grant’s custom order form.”

“What?” Vince’s feet thump to the ground and he sits up. Around him his home is perfectly silent, pure white, and kind of cold. He likes it better when Tara has to stay over, pretend she’s sleeping with him that night. Then this place feels like it has life in it.

Mostly, even when he’s home, it just feels... empty.

“Yeah. We had someone come through and offer to get us some info, and Owen Grant’s order form was in the documents he gave us to show he was good for it. This is… this is the most detailed custom order form I’ve ever seen, Vince.”

“Did he-...” Vince tries to swallow back the question, but it tumbles out anyway. “Did he really just want him for-”

“No, it’s more fucked than that.” Tara’s quiet - Vince can hear his own blood, his heartbeat, his breathing. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t, I don’t know… will it make me feel better or worse to hear it?”

On screen, Kauri is shocked and Vince watches his flinch, the tears standing in his eyes, still pleading and wide in some hope that Owen will rescue him. Vince grinds his teeth in anger at the way it looks to see his own face, so perfectly broken and needy, looking always to Owen to be saved.

Exactly how Owen had always wanted to see him.

“Probably worse,” Tara answers, and there’s a hint of gentleness there. Tara isn’t gentle with very many people - with him, with Eli, maybe a few others. Always with the rescues, the broken men and women hiding from the system under fake names and with forged documentation, pulled from homes and those two-bit emporiums selling bullshit knock-off Box Boys and Babes. She doesn’t have a lot of gentle left in her, after her own ordeal - but she always finds a little for Vince.

And he doesn’t even try to be ashamed of himself for needing it.

“Tell me anyway. That poor kid probably feels enough like shit, I might as well join him. I’m the only reason he’s even in this mess.”

“Well, okay, it might make you feel better to know he was already in the system. They called him 645898,” Tara reads the number out loud with real hatred edging her voice. “He was already in training before Grant put in his order, but I have a hunch they new Grant had been sniffing around the site and picked him up to have him ready for the order. And fuck, what an order. I don’t know what we’d even do with a rescue like this one, Vince.”

“What? Why? We’ve rescued others that are, that were, that… um…”

“Got their brains fucked out of them?” Tara asks with bitter near-humor.

“Yeah. That.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely seeing his share of that-” Vince winces, closing his eyes, trying not to remember Own’s hand pressed over his mouth, the look in his eyes as he’d whispered I’m so fucking tired of hearing you say no all the time, Vince, the way the ropes had dug into his wrists until they were rubbed raw and bloody. “-but it’s worse than that. He wouldn’t even go with us if we showed up at Grant’s front door.”

“Let me guess,” Vince says heavily. “He wanted the pet to love him.”

I just want you to fucking love me, you piece of shit! Is that so much to ask, Vince? Huh?! Is that so much to fucking ask?!

“Yep.” Tara doesn’t try to soothe him, to paper over old wounds with pretty words. That’s what he loves about her - Vince’s world is one of fake comfort and false friends, and Tara never gives comfort she doesn’t drag out of herself with real sincerity and she’s the truest friend he’s ever had. “If we tried to take him, he... he wouldn’t go. And that’s just the fucking tip of the fucking iceberg, too.”

“Perfect.” Vince sighs. “This kid had no idea what he was signing up for, huh?”

“Vince. You and I both know hardly any of them actually sign up for anything. You and I both know how they get the pets to sign our contracts.”

Vince licks his lips, hesitating, his blood running a little cold at the thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know how they do it. I know it.”

“Close your laptop, Vince. Go to sleep. This kid won’t be any less or more fucked over if you do. We’ll work on his case, I promise, he’s just… he’s going to be tough. He’s not in a house where we can walk up, he never leaves so we can’t catch him in a vulnerable, open place. And if we did… he wouldn’t go. The conditioning is thorough, Vince, and I’ve no doubt he loves Grant and is terrified of the idea of being taken away from him.” Tara sighs, again. She has a whole library of sighs, and Vince loves her for each and every one of them. “I have to talk to Eli about it, we need a better plan for dealing with this one, but trust me - I’m going to figure this shit out. Your clone and Dustin, we’re going to figure it out.”

“If you don’t, Tara? What if you can’t figure it out, for either of them?”

“Then…” Tara trails off. “Then it’s like I said. They’re no more or less fucked over than they were before I knew about them.”

It’s Vince’s turn to snort. “Tara. We both know that’s not how you operate. You never stop thinking about any of the ones you couldn’t rescue.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll make it work this time if I try hard enough. Go to sleep, Vince. Eli’s on my other line. He took in a rescue and he’s been calling me for advice about her.”

“That’s funny. Me calling to ask you about this Kauri kid, and Eli’s right in his house, at the exact same moment, calling you for advice about, uh, whatever her name is.”

“Keira. She asked him to call her Keira.” Tara is quiet. “Kauri and Keira. Funny, the two names together like that. Eli even says her hair is dark and curly... Anyway, you need sleep and I need to keep moving.”

“Right, because you’re a sleep shark, if you sleep you’ll die,” Vince teases her. She laughs on the other line, and he relaxes all at once.

Did the people who kept Tara, in the shadowy past she only rarely opened up about, ever make her laugh? Did they have any idea how wonderful it was to hear the sound? Did they know her laugh was nearly as gorgeous as the red of her hair? If Vince had ever been remotely into women, someone like Tara might have been just his type.

As it was, his fake girlfriend was probably his best friend. And the only person on Earth who knew what Owen Grant had done to him, when he was 20 years old and looked exactly like the Kauri kid that Vince was watching, once again, lay on his back on the screen.

Ankles against his thighs, legs spread apart, the flush of shame in his eyes and his skin and in the way he moved when Owen yanked him back to his feet moments later.

“You have meetings tomorrow,” Tara says, softly.

“So do you,” He counters. He scrolls down to look over the comments, staring at the array of usernames and inane babble. Mostly just people praising the Host’s cleverness, how funny they are, what a great idea to have two Box Boys face off like that.

Then one catches his eye.

@finder-of-rings: Kauri seems really sweet. God I hope owen isn’t hurting him. It’d be so, so easy to do just anything he wanted to him! They’re all alone and he can’t say no to anything, right??? God, that’s so scary… imagine being all alone with someone like Owen Grant and he can do literally anything to you and no one will stop him and no one will help you! Someone should do something!

There’s a slew of replies telling the commenter they’re making a mountain out of a molehill, that the Box Boys signed up for this, it’s all part of the system, whatever.

Vincent just stares at the words as they go in and out of focus.

“Vince?” Tara’s voice seems a little fainter. “You listening?”

Imagine being all alone with someone like Owen Grant and he can do anything to you - and no one will stop him - and no one will help you.

“I don’t have to imagine it,” Vince whispers. “I’ve been there, Finder of Rings. I’ve fucking been there.”

“Hey, no, are you reading the comments, Vince?” Tara’s voice is sharp again, cuts through the fog and the way his throat has gone tight, his heart beating fast, a dizzy fear pounding in his mind all the way down to wrists that still remember how it felt to be tied down.

A throbbing pulse of phantom pain in the rib Owen had broken, in the eye he’d punched. Some of Vince’s teeth are fake because of Owen Grant.

“Never, ever read the comments, Vince. Never. That’s… we have people who read the comments just to troll for info and even some of them get freaked out. Don’t do it. Or…” The softness is back in her voice, again. “At least let me be there with you when you do.”

“Yeah… yeah, no, you’re right.” Vince’s voice is shaking as he closes his laptop screen, shutting away the vision of Kauri and the Host’s boy carefully not looking at each other as the episode ended. I hope the other pets don’t judge the ones like you, little clone, he thinks. I hope, I hope, I hope.

“I’m going to bed, Tara. You’re right and I should take your advice and just… just fucking shut off for a while. Are you going to take my advice and do the same?”

“Fuck no. I’m calling Eli to see what help he needs with his rescue. She’s a sweetheart, she’s been really put through the worst the system does to people. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Vince.”

“And you’ll die if you sleep,” Vince says, and both of them laugh this time.

She hangs up and Vince sits in his quiet, empty house, thinking of the comment he’d read.

Someone should do something.

He thinks of Owen screaming in his face, holding him by the chin, the way he’d choked on his own blood and the tooth down his throat as he cried and begged Owen not to kill him. Thought of what it had been like when Owen’s mom had found out and Vincent had stumbled out of the old apartment where Owen used to live, beaten half to death and unable to tell a single living soul what really happened.

It’d hurt his career, if he did. He was just getting real acting jobs meant for adults, then - he’d signed Carlotta Grant’s legal shit and taken a year to recover and then come back and become a fucking superstar. It had felt like enough for a while.

He couldn’t have risked his career, then, when it was only getting started. And now...

It’d murder his career to step one foot out of line, now - and put the pet lib people he worked with at risk, if he publicly said a fucking thing about Owen Grant keeping what amounted to a blow up doll with a pulse that looked just like him.

He had to trust Tara, and the people like Tara - the people braver than him.

“Someone should save that poor kid,” Vince mutters, alone in the dark. “Someone should do something. But it’s not going to be me.”

#whump #erase to control #vincent shield is not a hero #fairybean101 #box boy #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #shameless-whumper #colton #kauri #tw: referenced past assault #tw: referenced violent noncon #tw: referenced noncon #youtuber whump #youtube whump #pet liberation movement

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fotiathymos · 4 years

Note

I liked your headcanon backstory for Lio, when you have the time would you share your idea for Galo's?

Galo's story time! According to random thoughts that occur in my brain to make me upset at night!

Once again, thank you for the interest. And I guess it comes off that I enjoy writing so I hope you enjoy reading. Even when its said. >.> I'd love to discuss with people their ideas still. And once again again... its LONG.

TW emotional abuse, parental death, small racism mention, transphobia mention, bullying, self harm via over working, and again I apologize if I miss anything.

Galo's parents were city dwelling young teens that fell in love and got married months later after dating at barely 19 years old. And it was rough.

His mother was loud, out spoken, take no bullshit kind of girl. She grew up all her life in Promepolis, poor and dirty. She'd get drunk at gay bars, fight with her parents, make out with random people and claimed it was living life to the fullest and if you can't handle that then you are just a prude!

His father recently moved into the city with his father (Galo's grandfather). They lost their home and was moved to Promepolis' shelter.

The recent events of the World Blaze caused many people to be displaced and homeless across the world. And welcoming new comers in the city scared the locals, what if they were Burnish? But with a majority of livable land reduced to deserts, people had to go somewhere.

Galo's father was training to be museum curator assistant. He was well versed in many cultures histories, educated, introverted and always got his way through social interactions via jokes. Upon arriving to the city he was currently jobless, the museum and city he previously called home was burned to the ground. His father was his only family and unfortunately wasn't handling old age well.

Sort of an opposites attract but 'were not so different, you an I' way. They met through friends of a friend. Galo's father wasn't fond of clubs but went anyway. She made him let loose for once in his life and he fell head over heels for her. They connected real fast. They were just 19 and impulsive, but it worked out in the end sorta, and decided if the world is this sucky lets just get married right away.

The reason why Galo was never taken in by any other family members was because 1. Galo's father only had Galo's grandfather, who was living in a home for his health. and 2. Galo's mother was disowned by her parents after hitching up with Galo's dad. She was from a large Italian family. Tight knit. They disapproved of her not dating or marrying an Italian boy from the city. She married a Japanese man. They excommunicated her from the family. Even when Galo was born they refused to see him.

Galo was their 'miracle child'. Kind of playing off how in the movie he was always is in such danger he should've died, it was a miracle Galo was born! His mother went through unfortunate miscarriages before she suddenly had Galo. And even then he was born premature and was held in the hospital on and off for the first 3 years of his life. And he survived! He was their miracle.

The family mostly lived a quiet life. Working multiple jobs in a shitty city apartment, caring for an elderly man and a small child. They knew of the politics and horrors going on in the world but they had no time to think of it. They were just trying to survive day by day. They had no outside support. They had friends but even then, they were busy too. There were fights about money, who is staying home with Galo, why don't we have any food in the fridge, whose taking him to school. They made a rule to never fight in front of Galo but kids still felt tension.

Galo didn't quite know he was different from other kids. He just felt.. wrong. It was discovered he was a boy early on though. Really, his parents had suspicions. Galo would hate being referred to as girly, lived for the idea of tomboy. Even when it conflicted with things he did like, like dolls and dresses. The moment someone said he was a pretty girl in that dress, he threw out the dress, tore it to pieces. He would get irritable when people used words and terms for him he didn't decide for himself. He only ever wore his dresses at home, played with dolls at home. At school he begged to wear baseball t-shirts, have robot notebooks, he'd point to anything in the boys section without much care to what it was, as long as it made him appear 'boy' to the world. His parents sat him down to talk about all this. When it all clicked that their child was transgender, they did all they could to make his life easier. They poured their money into puberty blockers for the time being. Before any further steps would happen.

Galo was bullied heavily at school. He was the 'weird' kid. The 'ugly girl', the 'freak'. Even to teachers who were asked to respect him, they just found him to be a 'troublemaker'. Never paying attention in class, always fidgeting, he'd talk too loud, always asking to go to the bathroom.

'Look at adults when youre talking to them.' 'Stop drawing and pay attention.'

He'd try to go by the rules but the rules always didn't make sense to him. Gender was confusing but school was even more confusing. He was always frustrated. All his attempts at fitting in were hit by walls. No one seemed to understand him. Kids stepped all over him, stealing any cool pencils or books he had. His back pack thrown across the school yard.

And just as his parents hid their worried and hard life from him, he made sure to not worry them about his own struggles.

When the fire happened Galo was around 13 year old. Galo was in bed. There were suddenly flames everywhere and his instincts made him run to his parents room. His mother was trapped inside the bedroom, his father outside. Galo was told to make a quick exit out of the house on his own. And in a panic he fled out the front door and into the worst possible human being.

Everything was pretty much a blur. Galo fell hard into shock when his parents weren't coming out of the building. He honestly was clinging to anything nearby to just.. hold something.. feel something. It just happened to be Kray Foresight.

The news was on the scene and sirens were blaring and Galo was anywhere but on earth in that moment. He was placed in an ambulance with a shock blanket, Kray sat beside him, muttering to himself. The only words Galo caught were something along the lines of ‘how unexpected the world gives things.’

In Kray's world, his sudden fame gave his sabotage and manipulate plan more speed. In Galo's world. Before he could even start his life, it ended.

Galo was sent to live in foster care. His Grandfather unable to support him. Galo got heavy into history when visiting his grandfather. The man had Galo's father history books in storage and Galo was instantly pulled in. Especially in his father's culture which he never got to learn much about. He discovered the history of Hikeshi through the books and it became his biggest interest. some foster care nurses were worried about him getting into firefighting history after suffering from a fire.

Galo would also visit a reluctant Kray very often. The media always ate it up. Kray would pose for pictures and Galo loved the attention. A break from thinking anything bad, he could run around a large empty office while Kray was on calls. Okay, maybe, sometimes he'd get yelled at for being too loud. And Kray would kick him out of the room. But thats just cause he was busy! Galo would talk and talk and talk to Kray about the new things he read in his books, he'd even bring by the books some days! His back pack full. It has to do with firefighting! Kray is working on ways to help prevent burnish fires! Kray would so be interested in Galo's research! So he'd spread out all the books all over Krays desk. Kray would let in some tv people during Galo's visits, maybe so they could see how even Galo, a kid, can be working so hard for a better world!

Galo would notice how different Kray got when it was just them two. Kray would mutter under his breath a lot. Stress from the job probably. Krays outbursts toward Galo only happened when they were alone. clearly Galo was being a bother to him. Kray was a busy man. Galo wasn't helping as much as he should be for Kray. Galo started being more quiet during his visits. He went from jumping around to sitting in the corner of the room, watching Kray work, till he was yelled at to stop staring. Galo would pace the Foundations halls, people watching. How they acted and how he could do the same to impress Kray finally. Show he isn't a kid anymore. That he’s normal.

But Kray wasn't always so stressed out with Galo, sometimes he'd pat Galo's head, buy him a new clothes and video games, have someone drive him back to the foster home in a big fancy car. And one day Kray even started noticing how interested Galo was in firefighting! He even offered to pay for schooling!

Galo hated the foster home system. Instead of dealing with his problems he ran away. He'd run to Kray's office. To visit his grandfather. Just mindlessly wander the city. Being an older child with trauma, adoption wasn't really on his plate. Ageing out seemed to be his only option. But no one ever wanted to just tell him that was the case. Giving false hopes for a better life.

Being bullied in school was easy compared to being bullied by other foster kids. They all hated Galo for being Krays 'favorite'. Galo was given a special room because Kray paid for it. Galo was bought clothes and video games and taken on drives in fancy cars! It was common for Galo to come back to his bedroom trashed. The first Matoi made out of card board and scrap fabric... suddenly found burning in the buildings front yard.

Galo would try and try and try to fit in. To be accepted. To have friends. So he started letting other kids come join him in the fancy car rides. He'd give others his clothes, pretending they were gifts. He'd help others by doing their chores. And suddenly everyone needed Galo.

When Galo's grandfather passed on due to old age. Galo felt more hopeless. His Grandfather was having memory issues in his old age, so Galo visited less, he could handle being mistaken for his mother, or asked who he even was. Galo felt so useless. And then the last piece of his family died and he, once again, was useless.

He was 16years old now. And felt so very stuck. As he was getting closer and closer to aging out of the system Galo was slowly accepting he had his own dreams of being a firefighter now. To help people who befell such a horrible situation that he himself suffered. He also wanted to impress Kray with his studies and maturity. He got to work. He got a job at the foster home, secretly got a front desk job at the Foundation, did small odd jobs around the city. All at 16-17. 18 years old was moving closer and closer. He wouldn’t eat or sleep and his body would ache everyday. But. He didn't want to be stuck and be useless.

Galo wanted to talk to Kray about helping him with top surgery. After the fire he got off puberty blockers, and after many many therapy sessions with the foster homes nurse did he start hormone replacement therapy. He honestly thought Kray already knew Galo wasn't cis from when he was 13 years old. But it seems he keeps forgetting. Kray was told about it by a nurse but he didn't mention it again. So Kray must not care that Galo was trans! He'd surely be excited and proud when he finds out how hard Galo worked up the money and how mature he was for all his research.

Kray was livid.

Calling Galo impulsive as always. Galo was working 2 years on this, and was researching for even longer. But.. I guess it was still 'impulsive' of him. Kray said it was too huge a thing to do to ones body. Galo understood that. Does that mean he can't go through with it? Yes, it was a big change but thats what Galo wanted. Kray just stated the obvious. Galo just wanted support for it. Galo explained as calmly as he could to Kray. Kray didn't seem to budge. Galo was too nervous about doing it without Kray's support. So he just sulked for months. Til one day, Kray said he found a surgeon. And Galo was elated! The news the next day had a big article on how Kray was still being a hero to the small boy he saved years ago.

Galo had some extreme abandonment issues. He conformed all his life to fit into a role, a job, a way he was expected to be for whoever he was talking to. He struggled with his own identity from a young age and with how different the world continued to act towards him it was hard for him to find his own place of comfort. It was always someone elses comfort he had to focus on. Joining Burning Rescue enhanced that feeling. He was meant to save and help others. And he was happy with that. It gave him purpose, pride, and reason to keep living.

Night terrors and sleep paralysis started immediately after the fire. During his foster home days, he was known to be awake at all hours of the night. Playing video games, reading, wandering around, doing exercise. anything to think of anything that wasn't that night. That wasn't how he's failing, how he wasn't liked, how he wasn't 'normal'.

He'd apologize after every time he got too excited and his voice got loud. Kray would always yell or give him a look from that. Kray wasn't subtle about how disinterested he was in Galo's interests. Galo would talk and talk and Kray would grunt and mumble under his breath and then slam the books off his desk nonchalantly. Galo would shut up. Galo had trouble understanding when the right time to speak was, what if he was too loud, what if he said something wrong.

Self deprecating humor was his go to in social interactions. If he said how annoying and stupid he was first then when they say it, it won't hurt that much. Or well, its just a joke, he doesn't really hate who he is! Right?

Galo's self harm was in working too much. Sleeping too little. He'd appear as a workaholic, invested in his passions. He'd be important and useful and he convinced himself that the aches werent there or werent too bad. His forgetfulness from lack of sleep was just him being stupid.

After Parnassus. He dealt with his issues more. Sort of. He'd become invested in helping Lio in helping the Burnish. Helping Lio with Lio's traumas and aches and lack of sleep.

But Lio was also invested in helping Galo.

Lio.. listened to him. Galo would talk and talk and talk and Lio could repeat the information back days later. Lio asked to hear more about certain subjects. Lio snap at Galo everytime he made a self hating joke. Galo still suffered nightmares and traumas but he wasn't alone this time. Truely wasn't alone. He finally had someone, and even more then just Lio, actually checking in on him, visiting him. Instead of Galo running to find someone to connect to and meeting brick walls.. he was slowly starting to have someone run to him.

Lio was the first person Galo would talk to about his parents. About the fun board game nights they had together. How his mother would let Galo wear make up and dresses but still refer to him as a boy when asked. How his father would let Galo stay up way to late watching old movies with him.

Galo had his own issues to deal with but he was in love with Lio intensely. Someone understood him when no one else would. But he couldn't always trust his own head, it always seemed to give the wrong answers about how others felt. But he just felt Lio loved him back. Lio just needed time. And there were days and months where Galo felt it was entirely one sided. That no one could love a fool like him.

But Lio would always end up doing something, as if reading Galo's mind, that showed he cared for Galo and that Galo's negative thoughts were just that, negative thoughts.

OKAY I feel like i could write forever and I def went all over the place. Im def missing some big points and thoughts. I hope this is at least readable. I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed.

I hope it wasn't too long or too weird or too much. idk where i was going with it and well i started writing with out a goal in mind. Just getting thoughts out really. Enjoy??And please talk to me about your thoughts. Anon or not anon. But thank you again for being even vaguely interested!! I know its not like.. fun or prob a popular idea for the most part.

#boop answers #no tags no time #i must go LIE DOWN #Anonymous

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pinnithin-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Jokes

Chapter 2

The Resonance Cascade hurt. Tommy felt the dimensional rift tear open space as if it were a hole punching through his own body. Even with his limited power there was no way he could have stopped something so catastrophic from happening. By the time the convulsions died down, the monsters had already hopped the gap.

Black Mesa was buckled and warped like a Coke can left in a freezer. Tommy wound up somewhere further away from the blast than he anticipated and had to pick his way through the wasted hallways to get back to the explosion site. What a mess. He passed the bodies of humans and extraterrestrials alike, fighting down a growing sense of nausea as he went. Did Benrey do this? It seemed like a stretch, even for him.

Tommy eventually found Gordon, alive and relatively unharmed, and learned that Gordon had picked up three others on his way out of the test chamber. Benrey was unkillable, as was his nature, so that presence didn’t surprise Tommy. Dr. Coomer was always tough, and it stood to reason that he could survive the blast from an interdimensional anomaly. Bubby, well. He wasn’t dead anymore, was all Tommy knew.

Now, they were trucking through the test facility at a steady clip, picking off creatures as they went. Tommy wasn’t armed - he didn’t need to be - but Gordon was making decent headway with a crowbar and Bubby had… located a revolver somehow. Tommy had questions about Bubby. For now, however, he was hanging in the back of the group, keeping one eye on Benrey, because Benrey was always up to something, and one eye on Gordon, because, well, just look at him.

The elevator crash had shoved him off a cliff he was never climbing back up from. That was a hard thing for Tommy to watch; aside from witnessing the death of three strangers, he also had to see something small and fragile snap inside Gordon, like the breaking of a flower stem. He hadn’t killed those people, not really, but he believed that he did, and that was somehow worse. Tommy didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to tell Gordon that a lot more people would die before this was over.

To make things worse, the company they kept was slowly chipping away at Gordon’s sanity. Bubby was insufferable. Coomer was unhelpful. Benrey was… flirting with him. Indistinguishable from harassment, which Tommy knew from firsthand experience. The new guy needed someone in his corner. It may as well be Tommy.

Gordon was at least adjusting relatively well to the supernatural. He had gotten over the idea of aliens invading pretty quickly, and when Bubby had outright told him he was born in a tube in the lab, Gordon took it in stride. That was right before he had clapped a heavy hand on Tommy’s shoulder, sending a shiver all the way through his body.

Wow, that was nice. Been a long time since Tommy felt something like that. He almost forgot to be offended when Gordon jokingly said that he was five. “We love our little Tommy,” Bubby had commented sarcastically. “We love Tommy,” Gordon had agreed genuinely.

Tommy didn’t know what to think about that, his brain glitching out in a pleasant sort of way with Gordon’s hand still on his shoulder. Then he let go and they kept moving, leaving Tommy just standing there, pulse on the uptick.

Get it together, man. You have an apocalypse to deal with.

A brief raid of the break room brought back memories of that morning. Was it really just that morning? The past few hours had felt like days. There wasn’t a lot to be found in there except the drinks from the vending machine. Tommy hung back while his colleagues pawed through the drawers and cabinets.

Gordon glanced at the bulletin board and over to Tommy, flashing a smile of acknowledgement. Tommy returned it with a wordless raise of his eyebrows. So he still had a sense of humor in this nightmare. That was a good sign.

The eye contact between them lingered for far longer than was appropriate. Take a picture, baby, it’ll last longer, was what Tommy’s brain said. “Grab a soda, it’ll help you see faster,” was what came out of his stupid mouth. Nice one, genius.

The laugh Gordon barked out seemed to surprise him. It was tight with stress, but his smile was lovely as ever.

“I don’t know what that means,” he chuckled, hefting the crowbar in his hand, “but sure.”

He really didn’t know what the hell Tommy was talking about and he still laughed at the bullshit he blurted when his brain stopped working. Tommy smiled and shook his head. He was definitely keeping this one.

The vending machine was cracked open like a walnut and they continued on their way.

It became an unspoken game between the two of them. Who could break the other out of reality, startle them into joy at the end of the world. Tommy won points the most often - Gordon wore his emotions on his face and he was already so strung out from stress that the barest attempts at levity set him off laughing. Occasionally, though, Gordon caught Tommy off guard with his wit. His jokes were more orchestrated. Grandiose. Special presents just for Tommy.

One such occasion was after they’d broken into the locker room. After addressing the corpse by the benches, Gordon began rifling through his locker for his passport in a vain attempt to placate Benrey. Tommy watched him carefully as he entered such an enclosed space with the entity. Just in case he tried something. Gordon found his passport, but his attention snagged on a solitary picture frame in the corner.

“That’s my baby,” Gordon informed the team.

He had a baby? Tommy studied the photo with interest. He didn’t strike Tommy as a fatherly person, and the fact that he had a child complicated whether or not he was single. Of course, that wasn’t an automatic disqualifier -

“I have a son,” Gordon insisted, with emphasis.

Tommy belatedly realized that Gordon was staring straight at him as he pointed at the photo. He blinked. Okay, man. He got the hint. Gordon wasn’t on the market - wait.

That was a stock photo. He could see the watermark stamped across the image. Gordon’s stare was still locked onto Tommy, a barely contained smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“That’s Joshua,” he said.

Tommy had to duck into the adjacent room to laugh.

Damn, he was good. Tommy leaned one hand on the wall, holding the other against his ribs in a fit of giggles. Why did Gordon have that in there? Just for kicks? He distantly heard an oblivious compliment Dr. Coomer launched in Gordon’s direction and a caustic insult from Benrey.

“What did you say about my boy?” Gordon demanded in mock outrage. “Did you call him shit?”

Tommy sagged against the wall, catching his breath. It took him a couple seconds to recover from that one. What a knockout.

---

It turns out Gordon Freeman’s sense of humor is difficult to nail when one is enduring an extraterrestrial apocalypse. Shambling forms accosted them on all sides, and while the party was able to more or less hold their own, the tension in the air was palpable. Each member of the team was paranoid for their own reasons, making their words sharper, their actions heavier.

Benrey had disappeared shortly after after the explosion in the bathroom, and Tommy could see him flickering on the edges of his vision every once in a while. Creep. He’d turn up eventually, on his own terms. Tommy had learned by now that there was no making the entity do what he didn’t want to do, but his presence nearby still made his skin crawl.

Dr. Coomer was on edge as he came face to face with his doppelgangers throughout the maze of carnage. Tommy had put together that this man was either a clone or a base for one, and it was becoming increasingly apparent as his speech grew more and more incomprehensible. Gordon thought he was having a stroke once. It was probably more accurate to say that he was having a breakdown on the DNA level.

Gordon and Bubby were the only two who seemed legitimately concerned about the aliens that were steadily pouring into the facility. Bubby was a surprisingly excellent shot with the revolver, and while Gordon wasn’t exactly a deadeye, he could at least swing that crowbar around with a decent amount of wallop. The adrenaline was running hot through all of them as they lay waste to the creatures in the facility. This was dangerous, and everyone was on edge.

As the situation grew bleaker, Tommy found himself cracking jokes reflexively, just as a nervous tic. He was used to having a pretty good grasp on reality - or, at least, on his definition of it - but the Resonance Cascade had dropped him in an inkwell and he could no longer tell which way was up. What parts of the impossible were planned? What parts of it could be stopped?

Most of his jokes were ignored by his nervous teammates. Understandable. When he dramatically bemoaned the loss of his tic tac drawer and the crucial calories they contained, he wasn’t even sure if he was being serious or not. They had seen so many people die in such a short amount of time. Watching the group’s brittle humanity crumbling apart at the loss of life was not making it any easier.

When the four of them witnessed a stranger plummet from a precarious catwalk to the void below, Gordon stood there, staring at the place he had disappeared from, for quite a long time. Tommy hung back as he always did, leaning his shoulder on the doorway. This poor mortal with a too-big heart. He was not going to be the same if he made it out of this ordeal alive.

“How deep is that hole?” he finally asked, either to find a sliver of hope that the man was still alive or some comfort that he had died quickly. “How deep is that hole?”

Beside him, Bubby folded his arms and blew out a breath. “Uh, I believe this hole has to be about five hundred feet deep,” he guessed.

Gordon’s face went worryingly blank as he processed this. Tommy watched him, feeling a twinge of sympathy tug at his stomach. There was no solace to be found in the catastrophe tearing through the facility, especially when the facility itself was grown from such rotten roots. Things were about to get far worse before they got better.

“We’re trying to dig to the center of the earth,” he told him wryly.

Gordon’s responding laugh was heartbreakingly sour.

They moved on, and Tommy was about to follow the group when Benrey materialized beside him. He only came up to Tommy’s shoulder where he stood next to him, but he still managed to pull off an intimidating leer.

“Dude, quit hitting on the new guy,” he said thinly. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Tommy paused. Slanted Benrey a stare that could cut glass. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he muttered.

“I’m not hitting on him,” the entity shot back. “I can’t stand him.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. Sure.

“It’s not my fault he showed me his dick,” Benrey went on, crossing his arms. His voice was like a razor, and it set Tommy’s teeth on edge.

He drew in a long, slow breath through his nose. “Why,” he asked, “would you tell me that.”

Benrey grinned, sharklike, and shrugged innocently. “Just something to think about.”

He blinked out of existence, leaving Tommy there alone to frown at nothing. He scoffed. Asshole. No tact whatsoever.

The fact that the entity had his eye on Gordon, too, made him uneasy. Not enough that Tommy felt the need to interfere - anyone with half a brain cell would know not to trust Benrey and Tommy was certain that Gordon had at least two. But he could see him slowly chipping away at the new guy’s sanity, piece by teeth-grinding piece.

The being had no appreciation for subtlety; winking in and out of this plane, killing indiscriminately, parading around like an interdimensional peacock. Tommy watched it all with a growing sense of disdain. That kind of power was not something to be fucked around with, and that was all Benrey ever did.

Tommy and Benrey’s relationship was like a careful dance in a room full of knives, each step a decision that could help or hurt both of them. They shared a supernatural origin, but their similarities ended there. Tommy didn’t trust him one iota, and Benrey vacillated rapidly between being obsessed with Tommy and outright despising him.

He had to remind himself that while the entity rarely outright lied, his words were often so ridiculously, insufferably cryptic that he might as well have been dishonest. The piece of information he had just dropped could mean anything, deposited in such a way to needle against Tommy’s skin like sandpaper. This was how Benrey worked, feeding people bullshit just to get them riled. Tommy didn’t need to retaliate. Unlike Benrey, he was raised with some fucking manners.

He had no power over him as long as he didn’t let it get to him.

He wasn’t going to let it get to him.

Oh, who was he kidding? It got to him. Tommy made a mental note to let an industrial door slide shut on Benrey the next chance he got. What was it going to do, kill him?

Chapter 1 <-----> Chapter 3

#ink #fanfiction #good jokes #part of my endeavor to relocate all my ao3 work #violence #guns #blood #hlvrai

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mdelpin · 4 years

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Happy Holigays 2019! For: @weissgrayblu - Merry Christmas, I really hope you like your gift! AO3 |FF.Net

The Truth in their Stars

Natsu and Gray - Age 11

"Catch me if you can!" Natsu yelled. With their chores finally done, it was time to play. He took off into the forest as quickly as he could, sparing only a second to gauge how far away Gray was.

With a grin, he raced ahead, his boots crunching in the snow, amused at the determined expression on his friend's face. As soon as he was deep enough into the forest, he climbed the nearest tree quickly, waiting to pounce on his unsuspecting friend. He could hear Gray's steps getting closer and tried to stifle his laughs, even as he panted from his exertions.

When a few minutes had passed, and Gray was no closer to reaching his hiding spot, Natsu looked around only to be knocked off his perch by the force of a well-aimed snowball, landing face down in a large snowdrift.

His ears reddened as Gray’s laughter assailed him, “Next time you want to ambush me, maybe remember that all the leaves have already fallen off the trees, moron.”

Natsu had to admit that had been kind of dumb on his part, so he laughed along, carefully collecting snow underneath him and shaping it into a snowball that he threw at his friend in one fluid motion as he turned over onto his back. The snow hit its target beautifully, covering Gray's smug expression in snow.

“I suppose we should call that a tie,” Gray commented as he calmly wiped the snow off his face. He offered his hand to Natsu and helped pull him back up to a standing position. “What do you want to do today?”

“Let’s go exploring!” Natsu immediately replied as he did every other time, eyes lighting up with excitement as his mouth widened into a fanged grin that caused a faint stirring in Gray’s chest.

"Okay!" Gray agreed, ignoring the strange feeling and once again chasing after Natsu. Together they ran through the trees, occasionally stopping to wrestle and roll in the snow until they were both shivering with cold.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Natsu and Gray age 18

Over the following years, the stirring in Gray's chest flourished into a spark, which soon ignited into a full-fledged flame. Every moment spent with Natsu was equal parts enjoyment and torture, especially since Natsu had never given any indication he felt the same way.

Even if he did, Gray would never be able to act on it. They lived in a small traditional village. There had never been two men romantically involved in the entire history of Isvan. Marriages were determined by a ceremony. The village elder would study the stars and consult the gods for every male in the village when they turned five, informing them of who they were fated to marry. The results were accepted blindly. As far as Gray knew, no one had ever gone against the elder's findings.

His own ceremony had gone badly, although he’d never been able to get the details from his parents. All he knew was that whatever the elder had prophesied for him had gotten her kicked out of the village.

Gray had never been too concerned that he was the only one that didn't know the name of his supposed true love. He amused himself with the fantasy that maybe she had named Natsu, and it had caused an uproar.

He'd never thought the ceremony made much sense. He might have lived in Isvan his entire life, but he was well aware that they were but a small part of a much larger world. With so many people in existence, how was it possible the stars would only ever point to people in their own village?

Natsu wasn't from Isvan. Igneel, the village blacksmith, had found him in the woods. He'd taken him in and adopted him as his son when no trace of his family could be found.

He’d had become a large part of Gray's life right away as there weren't many children his age in the village and the thought that he could have missed out on him because of something as silly as geography had always bugged him.

Natsu’s arrival and love of exploration had opened up Gray's eyes to the fact that there was so much more to the world than what they were taught. What else was out there? He wanted to find out, to go off exploring with Natsu one day and maybe never come back.

A few days after Natsu’s eighteenth birthday, Gray noticed his friend had been quiet, his usually carefree features furrowed into a frown as he sat across from the entrance to the blacksmith’s shop.

"I'd offer you a jewel for your thoughts, but I know you're not capable of any," Gray shoved Natsu to the side, making some room so he could sit next to him.

"Hey!" Natsu immediately shoved back, and one of their typical wrestling matches began. Gray was pleased to see Natsu's smile return gradually as they rolled around in the ground, earning annoyed protests from the villagers that were attempting to walk by.

Once their energy was spent, they both sat staring at the blacksmith's shop, occasionally catching glimpses of Igneel as he moved around inside.

“So, what’s wrong?” Gray finally asked, not used to so much silence between them.

“Igneel told me the village elder came to see him this morning,” Natsu confessed, looking troubled once again, “She wants to perform the stars ceremony on me, says it’s well past my time.”

Gray found he literally couldn't breathe for a full minute after hearing those words. He knew it was true, all the other boys their age had already begun courting their future spouses, but he and Natsu had lived in this bubble for so long that he'd hoped maybe Natsu would somehow be exempt since he was a foundling.

And of course, his own ceremony had been bungled. As far as he knew, the ceremony had never been performed twice on the same person, so despite the best efforts put forth by the village girls who had yet to be matched to get his attention, Gray had been free to do as he wished.

What would the result of Natsu's ceremony be? Gray dared to hope that maybe he would be called as Natsu's match, even though he knew the odds of this were fairly slim. If it did happen, what would Natsu think of that?

He'd never shown any romantic interest in Gray, at least not that he had been able to tell. Then a worse outcome entered his poor brain, what if Natsu were matched with someone else? Would Gray be able to spend the rest of his life watching the one he loved live out his life with someone else?

But one look at Natsu's face, coupled with the uncharacteristic hug he received before Natsu entered the blacksmith's shop to help his father was all Gray needed to realize that the answer to his initial question was even worse than he'd anticipated.

Natsu was getting ready to leave Isvan, and Gray was faced with a crucial decision. Could he leave everything he knew behind to follow the one he loved?

The answer proved to be simpler than he'd anticipated. Gray would absolutely leave everything behind, but not without at least providing his parents with some sort of explanation.

He asked for their blessing to go seek his fortune, to explore the world that lay past the boundaries of the forest that surrounded them. To his surprise, they encouraged his decision.

And so Gray spent the day packing everything he could think of for the both of them, knowing if Natsu was sneaking out, he might not have the chance to pack very well. At sunset, he bid his parents farewell.

His mother whispered, "Good luck, my darling," into his ear in a way that made Gray wonder if she knew what he was really up to.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Gray arrived at the entrance of the forest he knew from experience Natsu used the most. He put his supplies down and settled in for a wait, leaning against a tree for comfort.

About an hour after he arrived, he began to hear quiet noises, and soon Natsu came into view, moving with more stealth than Gray thought him capable of. His expression was sad, and he stopped every few feet to look back at the village.

Gray didn't like to see him like that, so he did the only thing he could think of. He jumped out from behind the tree he'd been resting against and yelled, "Gotcha!"

Natsu was so startled he managed to fall on his ass, “Bastard!” he hissed in outrage, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Gray grinned and offered his hand, pulling Natsu up once he took it. “I was trying to get that stupid look off your face. Seriously, you looked like you lost your best friend or something.”

Natsu refused to meet his gaze, but he muttered, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Ho ho, so that was about me!” Gray teased, “I didn’t know you cared.”

Natsu glared at him, ready for a fight, as always, “As if. Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

Gray went back to the tree and grabbed his bag, strapping it on his shoulders, "And let you go on an adventure without me? Hell, no!"

“How did you—?” Natsu began to ask but seemed to think better of it.

“Know you were taking off?” Gray chuckled, “You are so easy to read, what I don’t understand is the why?”

Natsu squared his shoulders and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “I’m not about to let some bullshit ceremony decide my life for me.”

"Why do you think it's a bullshit ceremony?" Gray asked, already knowing his own thoughts on the subject but curious to hear if Natsu knew something he didn't.

"Yesterday, I was doing deliveries for Igneel when I saw Jude Heartfilia handing a bunch of jewels to the elder. Then all of a sudden, after years of no one caring about whether the ceremony had been performed on me or not, they're demanding I have one?"

They began walking side by side through the forest with no other light but the moonlight and stars to guide their way.

“Hey, Gray?” Natsu asked after a few hours of traveling in silence.

“Hmm?” Gray had been running Natsu’s words over and over in his mind. He’d had his suspicions over the years, but he’d never thought money was involved. What could possibly have happened at his ceremony to have the village decide to banish the previous elder? It didn’t make any sense.

“How come you haven’t started courting your intended yet?”

“I don’t have one,” Gray said simply.

“I don’t understand, I thought everyone did except for me,” Natsu peered at him, his eyes as confused as Gray felt.

"We used to have a different elder, I barely remember her. She had pink hair like yours and was always in a rotten mood, but after she did my ceremony, she was banished, and the one we have now took her place. I was never told who my match was, so I guess I'm destined to be alone."

Natsu remained quiet for a few minutes before declaring, "No one is destined to be anything, we get to choose for ourselves. I chose to leave the village rather than submit to a life I don't believe in, and you, well, you decided to come with me." Natsu grinned. "So now that we've made these decisions, where should we go?"

“I’ve always wanted to see the mountains,” Gray mentioned, thinking that was as far away as he knew of, and it would keep Natsu beside him the longest.

“Why stop there?” Natsu asked, his eyes shining as they always did when something excited him.

“Well we should at least stop for the night, we should be far enough away now,” Gray pointed out, his eyes beginning to droop with tiredness.

"Alright, I think I see a clearing," Natsu ran ahead, and by the time Gray arrived, he'd already set his pack down and was rummaging through its contents. He grabbed some items and tossed them to Gray, who accepted them gratefully, not shocked at all to see it was food.

Gray dropped his own pack on the ground and sat next to his friend, both munching on the food Natsu had brought. Once it was all done, Natsu lay down on the soft earth, using his pack as a pillow while Gray removed his sleeping bag and laid it out.

"I don't suppose you happened to bring another one of those?" Natsu asked, hopefully.

“You really are an idiot, did you only pack food in that thing?” Gray asked curiously, glad that he had thought ahead to what they might need, afraid of this very same scenario.

“Well yeah, what else would I need?”

Gray pointed at his sleeping bag and rolled his eyes, "It's going to get even colder soon, what were you planning to do when it started snowing?"

“I didn’t think of that,” Natsu admitted sheepishly.

“Good night, Natsu,” Gray muttered as he crawled into his sleeping bag, trying to ignore the sounds of the other’s discomfort, too worried his body might betray him if Natsu was sleeping in such close quarters. He fell asleep quickly, tired by all the walking they’d done.

Gray awoke sometime later to hear a loud chattering noise, and he felt terrible, they should have at least started a fire or something. He was the practical one, he should have thought of that. "Just get in here," he grumbled sleepily, "You're going to wake up the bears at this rate."

There was no witty response, just a flash of pink as a freezing cold Natsu crawled into the sleeping bag and settled in behind him, "Th-thanks," Natsu replied, teeth still chattering.

Gray turned around to face him, wanting to get a good look and tried not to laugh at how miserable he seemed.

"You should warm up soon," Gray assured him before turning back around, not trusting himself to not do something physical to warm Natsu up, and perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but he thought Natsu had looked mildly disappointed.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

They spent the next day trying to put as much distance between themselves and Isvan as they could, knowing by now Jude Heartfilia must have noticed Natsu’s absence and might have decided to try to bring him back.

By the time the sun had set, they were exhausted and thrilled to happen upon a large outcropping of rocks. Their configuration created a sort of cave that would protect them from the brutal wind. Natsu and Gray crawled in eagerly, and after a quick meal of whatever they could quickly get out from their packs in the dark, they nestled against each other inside Gray's sleeping bag, neither bothering to remove any of their heavy clothing. They fell asleep this way, their back's touching. Or at least that's what Gray remembered, but he woke to find Natsu's arm draped carelessly around his middle. Heat rushed to his face as Natsu's loud snores tickled the back of his neck, and he realized that they were spooning.

He snorted at the noise, in all the times they had shared a room, he couldn't remember Natsu ever being that loud as he slept. Gray decided his friend must just be exhausted since he also couldn't imagine Natsu cuddling him willingly either. Still, he allowed himself to enjoy this rare instance of affection.

And that’s when he heard it, or rather didn’t hear it. The loud snoring had stopped, yet he could still feel Natsu’s breath on his neck.

There was a rustling near them, and a low growl that was soon followed by loud sniffing and the sound of ripping canvas. Gray lay very still, afraid he knew exactly what was there even if he couldn’t see it. The impression of a cold nose sniffing the air around them helped to reinforce his suspicions.

“Natsu,” Gray whispered, gently moving back the arm that was draped over him.

Natsu remained dead to the world, and Gray once again remained quiet, not wanting to draw the bear's attention since it seemed to be enjoying their food. He shook his friend behind him.

“Natsu,” Gray whispered a little louder.

"Hmmm, Graaaaay," Natsu finally replied, although the tone of his voice and the sudden shifting of his hips made Gray wonder precisely what kind of dream he was having.

"Natsu," This time, Gray shook him hard enough that he knew there was no way Natsu could sleep through it, and when he felt his friend move sluggishly, he tried to let him know what was going on. "I need you to be very quiet, okay?"

“What’s going on?” Natsu whispered back groggily, much to Gray’s relief.

“We need to get out of here,” Gray managed as calmly as he could, given the circumstances. “There’s a bear in here with us.”

He didn't get a chance to say anything else as the bear finally ran out of food and became enraged by the noise they were making, Gray tried to unzip his sleeping bag as quickly as possible to give them a way out, but the bear was already charging. Gray had no more time to think. He somehow managed to crawl out quickly, pulling Natsu along with him.

For once in his life, Natsu remained silent, not once complaining about being pulled along by Gray. They both got to their feet and ran as fast as they could with the bear giving them chase.

"Where did it even come from? I thought bears hibernated," Gray complained when five minutes later, the bear showed no sign of slowing down.

"Nevermind that, we gotta find a tree to climb," Natsu's head darted quickly, examining the trees that surrounded them before quickly pulling Gray behind him, "That one!"

Natsu had always been able to climb trees easily, and this was no exception, letting go of Gray's hand he was halfway up the tree in no time, but Gray had never been as good, and now with the added pressure of an enraged bear closing in on them, he couldn't seem to make any progress. He was still stuck on the lowest branch. Natsu scurried down, holding on to the tree trunk with one arm while offering Gray his hand.

“Just go back up, I’ll think of something else,” Gray assured him, not wanting Natsu to get hurt.

“I”m not leaving you down there!” Natsu grabbed his forearm and pulled him up onto the next branch and continued to help him until they were about halfway up the tree. They were both panting as they hugged the trunk as best they could. Their eyes fixed on the bear that had begun to shake the tree below them.

"I guess we're going to be here for a while," Gray sighed in consternation, but Natsu started to laugh.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“I was just thinking that I’d much rather be here, stuck in a tree with you while avoiding a pissed-off bear, than back home.”

"Speak for yourself, idiot," Gray countered, but he was glad it was too dark for Natsu to see the way his words, combined with how they had woken up, had affected him.

“Can I have your belt?”

Gray was confused by the request, but he unbuckled his belt and handed it over, watching as Natsu tied it to their hands then to the tree trunk. "In case we fall asleep," Natsu explained, "It's a long way down."

Somehow they did manage to fall asleep in the tree, with Natsu leaning against the trunk and Gray leaning against him, their hands joined together by the belt, only waking when the sun rose. Thankfully by then, there was no sign of the bear.

Natsu unbuckled them, and they climbed down, feeling all sorts of aches from sleeping in an uncomfortable position.

Gray stretched his arms above his head, looking around to see where they were. Not that he expected to recognize anything, this was the furthest either of them had ever ventured from Isvan.

But the mountains were ahead of them, and they continued to walk towards them.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

"We're screwed," Natsu finally declared what they had both been thinking. They'd lost their packs, which had contained all their food. They'd also lost Gray's sleeping bag, which had been the only thing to keep them warm at night. They could ignore the rumble in their stomachs for a while longer, but if they didn't find shelter before nightfall, they might not survive the night.

So when they found the small frozen pond, they decided to try to cross it, hoping to reach the other side while it was still daylight. Natsu went in search of sticks they could use to test the ice before walking on it.

While he waited impatiently for Natsu's return, Gray decided to just test the ice, stepping on it carefully to see if it would bear his weight. When there was no sign of a crack, he moved away from the edge, gliding gracefully once he'd gotten his balance.

He didn't attempt to do any tricks, knowing it would be a disaster without ice skates. He was surprised to see Natsu standing at the pond's edge, watching him with what appeared to be a fond smile.

“I’d forgotten how good you were at that,” Natsu called out.

"Well, not all of us can be squirrels," Gray retorted. He liked having Natsu's eyes on him, loved

the attention, and the way his friend was laughing at his lame comeback. He was starting to think that maybe Natsu liked him back.

He beckoned Natsu to come on the ice, showing him it was safe. Natsu stepped on the ice slowly, immediately falling backward as he slipped. He scowled when Gray laughed at him.

“Come on, try again,” Gray managed to keep his balance as he helped Natsu get to his feet, holding on to his gloved hand as he encouraged him to use one of the branches he had collected as a sort of walking stick and taking the other for himself.

“Take short steps, and bend forward a little. Like this, okay?” Gray began walking, continuing to hold on to Natsu’s hand to help him keep his balance, or so he told himself. “And if you feel like you’re going to fall lean your head forward, you don’t want to lose what little brains you have left.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Natsu muttered under his breath as he continued to struggle.

Gray held his tongue, knowing how much Natsu hated to look foolish in front of others. Instead, he squeezed his hand, "Just relax, and do what I do."

Pretty soon, Natsu had gotten the hang of it. Gray could probably have let go of his hand after the first few minutes, but he was enjoying it, and Natsu wasn't complaining.

In this manner, they made their way across the pond, both remaining silent so they could keep track of any noises from the ice. It was slow going, but neither seemed to mind and when they had gotten about halfway, they saw smoke in the sky. It filled them with hope. If they could make it to the other side without incident, they could seek out its source and maybe ask for shelter for the night. They glanced at each other and smiled.

They were almost to the shore when they began to hear a cracking noise. Natsu froze, refusing to move in any direction until Gray deemed it safe. They began to use the sticks to test the ice more and more, but the cracking became louder, and a visible line appeared in front of them. Without even a thought, Gray pushed Natsu as hard as he could towards the shore, trying to keep him from falling in.

It was too late for him though, before he had a chance to move, there was one last loud crack, and the ice underneath him gave way. Gray fell through, managing to keep his mouth shut before he could swallow any water. He was disoriented at first, but there was enough light left in the sky to help him find his way back to the surface, and after a couple of failed attempts, he was able to find the opening.

Gray wasn't able to celebrate this small victory, however, for as soon as his head came up above the water, he soon felt both his heart and his breathing speed up, making him panic. He flailed in desperation, and that's when he saw him.

Natsu was headed back to him, running and screaming at the top of his lungs, "GRAAAAY!"

"St-stay over there, y-you'll only make things worse," is what Gray tried to say, but he was only panting the words out. There was no way Natsu could hear him. He had to get himself under control to show Natsu that he could handle it on his own before the fool ended up in the water with him.

He calmed himself down as much as he could, helped along by the feeling returning to his limbs. Once he managed a deep breath, he was able to call out, “Stay right there, I can get out!”

Natsu listened, although Gray could tell from his stance that it was but a temporary reprieve. He could see the worry in the well-loved features, and it fueled his determination.

Gray tried to grab the ice with his gloved hands, but it was too slippery. He grunted with the effort, his clothes were soaked through, and everything felt cold, but he knew he had to keep trying, Natsu's legs were practically twitching.

This time, instead of grabbing for the ice, he kicked his legs, moving his body as close to the ice as he could manage. He placed his arms on the ice, using them to prop himself up and continued to kick his legs to get as much of his torso as he could manage out of the water and onto the ice.

He could feel Natsu slowly moving towards him now that he was mostly out of the water, and this time he didn't protest. That last effort had exhausted him, and even as he continued kicking his legs weakly, he was afraid of what might happen if he fell back in. Gray felt himself being pulled the rest of the way out until he was on the shore. He had never been so relieved in his life.

"Thank fuck, you scared the hell out of me!" Natsu's breath was coming in pants, and to Gray's confusion, he felt his friend tugging off his clothes.

“What are you doing?!”

“What do you think I’m doing, I’m getting you out of these wet clothes. You’re going to freeze to death!”

Natsu ignored all his protests, and soon he was taking his clothes off as well, placing them on Gray to try to keep him warm and then bundling him up in his coat.

“Natsu, you’re going to freeze,” Gray objected weakly.

“I’ll be fine, there’s a house up ahead,” Natsu reported picking Gray up and carrying him on his back as he ran towards the source of the smoke they had seen from the lake.

Gray saw that Natsu had been right after all, in less than ten minutes they were at the door of a house that seemed to be built into a large tree. Natsu wasted no time, knocking on the door loudly.

“Help!” Natsu knocked insistently until a cantankerous voice could finally be heard.

“What the hell do you want? I didn’t move all the way out here to get visitors.”

"My friend fell in the pond, he's freezing. Please! He needs to be warmed up." Natsu pleaded even as he continued to knock relentlessly.

“Alright, alright, stop that infernal knocking already!”

The door finally opened, revealing an older woman with pink hair that looked vaguely familiar to Gray. She studied him before snapping at Natsu, "Don't just stand there, you simpleton, come inside. We need to get him near the fire."

She slammed the door behind them, leading them to a large room where a fire was burning. She instructed Natsu to place Gray on the sofa, immediately covering him in a blanket and leaving them alone to go in search of others.

“If you had died because you decided to come with me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” Natsu blurted out as he hugged him through the blanket.

“I’m fine,” Gray patted Natsu on the head, reassuring him as best he could since he wasn’t sure how to react to those words or the hug, “A little time in front of the fire and I’ll be good as new.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the return of the old lady, her arms full of blankets.

“Where are his clothes?” she barked at Natsu, making him jump away from Gray.

“I left them by the pond,” Natsu replied before sitting closer to the fire, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm himself up. He was only wearing his pants and boots, having taken everything else off to warm Gray up.

“Go get them,” she ordered as she piled blanket after blanket over Gray’s still shivering body without offering Natsu one.

“What? You’ve got to be kidding, it’s freezing out there, and he’s wearing all my clothes.”

“That’s not my problem, now go get them before I decide not to let you back in when you return,” she shrieked.

“Fine!” Natsu yelled, getting up and slamming the door behind him on his way out.

“Now then, young Fullbuster. This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” the woman sounded like a completely different person now that Natsu was gone.

“You know me?” Gray furrowed his brow as he turned to look at the woman.

“I should, you’re the reason I was banished from Isvan,” her red eyes sparkled with amusement, “Not to mention, you’re the spitting image of your father.”

"Are you Porly- uhm," Gray tried to remember the rest, but it was a confusing name, and it had been years since he'd heard it.

“Porlyusica. Yes, I am, ” Porlyusica smiled kindly.

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what happened, but they shouldn't have banished you for it."

“They never told you?” Porlyusica muttered something under her breath that Gray wasn’t able to catch.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Porlysica studied his face intently, looking for what, Gray had no way of knowing, “I imagine you’ll want to know the results then?.”

Gray thought about it. Did he want to know? When he was younger, he'd been very curious to know what happened, especially as no one would tell him. But everything was different now.

He thought of the last few days he and Natsu had spent together. Even though they had been fraught with danger, he had been oddly content and seeing some of Natsu's reactions had given him hope that it wasn't one-sided, that they might be able to have some sort of future together.

There was one question he needed an answer to, but only Natsu could give him the answer he was searching for.

“I was curious for a long time,” Gray admitted, “But now that I’m older, it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t believe anyone is destined to be anything, I think we are all free to make our own choices, and I’ve already made mine.”

"The stars and even the gods can only give their opinions, but only you can truly know what is right for you. In all my years doing that idiotic ceremony, you are the only one who seems to have grasped that simple concept." Porlyusica grinned at him approvingly, patting him on the head but

making no further comment on the subject, "I'll go make some tea for when the idiot returns."

Gray chuckled, and when he began to feel lightheaded, he buried himself in the comforting weight of the blankets.

They stayed at Porlyusica’s treehouse for several days. She was determined to have Gray take it easy until she was sure there were no long-lasting effects from his unexpected swim in the freezing pond.

Porlyusica and Natsu were constantly at odds with each other, their bickering ringing loudly throughout the house. It shocked Gray. Not only did people usually like Natsu, but in all the years Gray had known him, he'd never noticed his friend showing animosity towards anyone before. Even more confusing, Gray had seen that Natsu was acting strangely towards him too, almost as if he were trying to distance himself, and Gray couldn't understand why. And with Porlyusica always there, there was never an opportunity to bring it up.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

Once Gray had been deemed healthy enough to travel, they'd left Porlyusica's treehouse behind, continuing to move toward the mountains, which loomed ever closer. Before bidding them farewell, Porlyusica had given each of them a pack filled with as many provisions as she could spare, along with one sleeping bag large enough to fit both of them comfortably.

He and Natsu had walked all day, taking few breaks now that their goal was so close, but by nightfall, they were too tired to continue. They found a spot to camp for the night, and Natsu went off in search of kindling while Gray looked through their bags to find something to eat.

They got a fire going and sat around it in silence. Natsu had been quiet all day as well, only answering when Gray called out to him. It was obvious he was thinking about something, but Gray had no idea how to get him talking.

He decided that if this behavior continued the next day, he would confront Natsu and force whatever this was out of him. For now, he just laid out the large sleeping bag and crawled into it, Natsu followed, and soon they both lay on their backs looking up at the stars, which at the moment seemed closer to Gray than Natsu, who was less than a foot away.

“What are you planning to do once we reach the mountains?” Natsu asked suddenly, sneaking a peek at Gray before staring up at the sky fixedly.

Gray was surprised by the question, he’d thought they’d just keep going, traveling together until they found a place they’d like to live, but maybe he’d assumed too much.

"I don't know, I never really thought past that. The mountains are as far as I know," Gray responded as honestly as he could, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"Are you going to go back to Isvan?" Natsu's entire demeanor was tense, and Gray, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what was going on inside his head.

"Why would I want to go back?" Now he was even more bewildered. Hadn't he made it clear he had no plans of ever returning?

"I just thought, now that you know who your intended is, you might want to go back to be with her," Natsu still refused to look at him, but Gray thought maybe they were finally getting somewhere.

Gray sighed, turning to face Natsu, "Is that what this is all about?"

Natsu turned to face him as well but still wouldn’t meet his gaze, “It’s just, before you didn’t think you had anyone, but now you do. It changes everything for you.”

“I still don’t know actually,“ Gray replied truthfully.

“Didn’t the old hag tell you?”

“She offered the first night we were there, but I told her I didn’t want to know.”

"But why? I mean, my ceremony was going to be a hoax, but yours was the real deal," Natsu puzzled, his eyes blazing with questions, "That woman may have been a menace, but she was honest."

And with those words, Gray was finally able to connect all the dots. Natsu had been acting weird because he was upset at the thought of Gray leaving him to spend the rest of his life with some girl, and he resented Porlyusica for being the cause of it.

He wanted to laugh but knew it would only work against him, so he decided to reassure Natsu instead. With only the briefest of hesitations, he reached out and caressed Natsu's cheek with his thumb, "I made my choice long ago, Natsu. Whether she confirmed it or not wouldn't have changed how I feel. "

Natsu's entire face had changed colors the moment Gray had touched him, and he tried to turn away, but Gray wouldn't let him, not when they were finally communicating.

"Do you mean, uhm, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. These past few days have been amazing, I mean yeah, we were chased by a bear, and I fell through the ice, and we stayed with a scary lady, but you were with me through all of it. I can get through anything as long as you’re with me."

Gray watched as Natsu's eyes lit up brighter than any star in the sky, his lips slowly stretching into that impossibly wide grin that Gray had always loved. He looked beautiful, and Gray was filled with a strong desire to kiss him, but before he could do anything about it, Natsu had already pressed their lips together.

The kiss was rough and playful and perfectly Natsu, and Gray loved it. He rolled them carefully until Natsu was atop him, allowing him to trace the contours of Natsu’s back as they kissed.

Once they separated, Natsu lowered his head to Gray's chest "I'm sorry, I should have asked. I've just wanted to do that for so long."

Gray chuckled, holding Natsu against him and running his fingers through the pink locks, “I’m glad you did, I don’t know how long it would have taken me to work up the courage.”

Natsu lifted his head, looking into Gray’s eyes with wide-eyed honesty, “These last few days all I could think about was you leaving me behind, and I hated it. I hated her. I always knew I liked you, but now, after everything that's happened, I think it's grown into something more."

“I love you too,” Gray managed to get out before seeking out Natsu’s lips, wanting to feel them against his again.

They were just two men kissing underneath the stars, and whether it was right or wrong, Gray couldn't say. He only knew it was right for them. They had found the truth in their stars, and Gray would happily spend the rest of his life following their light.

#fairy tail #gratsu #happyholigays2019 #ftlgbtales #happy holigays 2019 #ftfanfics #gift exchange #for: weissgrayblu #my edits

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