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beewolfwrites · 3 years

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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twenty-Four: And the Rest is Silence

And this is it: the final chapter! It’s been insane, but this is the only fanfiction I've ever finished before, and it wouldn’t have happened without all the support. Thank you so much!! I didn’t think anyone would read this, but seeing everyone’s reactions to each chapter has kept me going :D

I’m sorry for the essay, but I’m aware I didn’t post anything about this in the AIB tag. Yes, there will be a sequel!

I need to read the manga properly before writing it, so I don’t know when the sequel will start. But in the meantime, there’ll be a series of Chishiya one-shots of his perspective, and there’ll even be scenes that weren’t in this fic, plus an original game!

For the full fanfic, you can find it here on AO3.

I’ll also be creating a master list, and I'll post the literature references after this for those who wanted them <3

Once again, thank you so much!! And I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

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By the time Kuina found us again, it was already late afternoon, and even though our visas had extended by ten days after the Witch Hunt game, there was something about the setting of the sun that felt foreboding.

We lit up the furniture shop with candles and changed into the clean clothes we’d collected. Seeing Chishiya wearing ordinary clothes felt strange. Aside from when we’d crossed paths in the Tag game, the entire time I’d known him he’d been wearing swim shorts and flip flops.

Now, he emerged from the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a variegated blue cardigan that suited him perfectly. When his eyes flickered to mine, I realised I’d been staring, and distracted myself with preparing dinner instead. It wasn’t much, especially since all I had was canned goods and a camping stove, but the vegetable stew kept us warm while we curled up in our makeshift living room. As evening turned to night, however, it became obvious that something was missing.

There are no games.

Kuina chewed on her lip, looking out of the window. ‘What d’you think will happen when our visas run out?’

‘It probably has something to do with the Ten of Hearts,’ I told her. ‘Maybe there’s no need for games anymore, since we’ve got all the numbered cards.’

It didn’t bode well for us. If there were no games by the time our visas ran out, there was no chance of us getting out of the Borderlands. At least not alive.

As the night wore on, Kuina was the first to go upstairs. Covering her yawn with her hand, she waved goodnight and winked at me. I tried not to blush. Not that it made a difference, anyway. Chishiya was busying himself over a scrap of paper, and barely reacted when I smushed up by his side.

I frowned at the paper in his hand. ‘Isn’t that...’

‘Ah.’ He held it out so I could see it. ‘I took it from the tagger’s pocket.’ It was a drawing of a circle with squiggly lines, clearly a rushed sketch of something. In the middle of a line, the pen had stabbed a hole straight through.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I have an idea,’ he said, but never elaborated.

Fighting the onset of sleep, I leaned my head against his shoulder, paying no mind to the way he tensed beneath me. The fabric of his cardigan was soft as down and made for a perfect pillow. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

I pushed my face into the fabric, pretending to settle in for the night. ‘Then I’ll just stay here and annoy you until your visa runs out.’

‘I have a feeling that won’t happen any time soon,’ he said, looking out the window.

And that was when I noticed it too. Midnight had passed by only a few minutes ago, yet there were no lasers. Did that mean the Borderlands were at a standstill? Were we stuck here permanently now? I wasn’t aware of how silent I had become, lost in my own thoughts, until Chishiya spoke up.

‘I believe it’s a map.’

My eyes slid to the drawing again. ‘And that hole in the paper, do you think that’s where the others are? The dealers, I mean.’

He shifted uncomfortably and I sat upright, conscious that I might have been unintentionally hurting or bothering him. Looking at the map properly, the lines could represent different interlocking pathways. If the marked place was a hideout of some kind, it couldn’t be in the open streets; there was too big a risk that a player might stumble upon it by accident.

So where...?

As soon as the idea came to mind, the words slipped out of my mouth. ‘The subway....’

He hummed in agreement. ‘I went to the nearest subway station this morning to check it against the real map. It’s a loose fit, but it works.’

I thought back to the second tagger – the crying woman – and how she’d been forced to participate in the game, donning an explosive collar. ‘Maybe if we find the place, we’ll get some answers.’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But I’m curious to see if anything changes within the next few days.’

‘Do you think we’ll hear something soon?’ I asked, yawning into my hand.

‘I believe we will.’ He gave me that same half-smile I had grown so used to. ‘But right now, I think you should go to sleep.’

Chishiya didn’t complain when I crawled into his bed. Like the night before, he kept his distance, but I could’ve sworn at times, when my sleeping became lighter throughout the night, I could feel fingers lightly touching my hair, only to pull back the moment I stirred. Over the next few days, it became the norm, and every night I would curl up on my side of the bed, slipping into calm dreams under the blue light of the window.

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Despite the sunshine washing over the grey of the city, the stairs leading into Minami-Aoyama station descended into darkness. We’d checked and double-checked the drawing against the official subway map several times, but the idea of entering an abandoned station to uncover who knows what wasn’t inviting.

‘Are you sure this is it?’ Kuina asked for the third time.

I looked at the route map hanging over the station entrance, my eyes tracing the shape of the lines. ‘Positive.’

Folding her arms, Kuina went first. I waited for Chishiya to take a small torch from his pocket before following behind. The station was truly submerged in blackness, and if not for Chishiya’s torch, we would have easily become lost. He shone the beam at the paper in his hand, then held it up against each train line.

‘This way,’ he said, and walked towards the edge of the platform.

We hopped down onto the gravel below, using the metal tracks to guide us further into the tunnels. It was disconcerting to see the subway so empty, but with Kuina and Chishiya here, I felt safe somehow.

Several minutes in, Chishiya stopped abruptly, and I almost walked into him. If he reacted at all, I couldn’t see to tell. But he seemed more focused on something else, as he pointed the torch at a door that had been busted open.

‘That must be it.’ Kuina’s voice echoed.

Without hesitation, Chishiya disappeared through the door, leaving Kuina and I in the darkness.

Chishiya?!

I panicked, arms waving as I tried to find something to hold onto. I heard Kuina hiss as we stumbled into each other and bumped elbows. Feeling around for the door frame, we managed to make our way inside, where Chishiya held his torch at us from further away.

‘Hey!’ Kuina snapped. ‘Don’t do that again! You’re the only one with a light here.’

‘Walk faster then,’ he said, waiting impatiently as we jogged over.

He shone the beam in the opposite direction, where it bounced off something. It was still too dark to tell just what, but as we walked forwards, everything became clearer. A structure lay ahead, with tunnels and walkways all leading into a giant room. Overhead, wires were strung across the ceiling, all feeding into the same place. We entered through one of the tunnels, and my heart jumped.

Televisions. They stared, black and empty, in rows and columns up the walls. But what was even more surprising was the setup right in front of us. It was an office, with papers, pen pots and coffee-stained mugs strewn about on desks. It would have looked like any other workplace, if not for the bodies draped in chairs and across the floor.

‘What... is this?’ I crouched to inspect the body of a man in a suit. Judging from its state, he had only died recently, but more importantly, there was a singed hole running through his head. He had been killed by a laser. ‘They’re not the ones in charge of the games.’

Chishiya closely inspected a desk. ‘Evidently not,’ he said, picking up a folded piece of paper and passing it to me. It was filled with numbers, some ticked off. Whoever it had belonged to was keeping track of their visa.

They’re playing games too, I thought. Or at least, they were.

‘So, these guys were the dealers.’ Kuina gingerly held up a sheet of paper with scribbles all over it. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be odds. ‘They were betting on us,’ she said.

A shiver ran along my skin. Of course, they had been watching us this whole time, that was expected. But to place bets on our survival was a whole other story. If the dealers were playing too, there must’ve been a separate system for them to extend their days. Perhaps how many people survived each game had some kind of impact on their visas.

A finger lightly brushed the back of my arm and Chishiya appeared beside me. ‘Momoka’s friend,’ I said, ‘she died right after she told everyone she was a dealer. And the taggers died because we won. I have a feeling their visas depended on whether or not we cleared each game... or maybe how many people didn’t make it.’

From his expression, I knew he had been thinking the same thing. ‘It doesn’t explain why they’re all dead now.’

I glanced around at the stiffened bodies slumped around us. ‘Actually, I have a bad feeling about that too.’

At that moment, a tap of footsteps echoed from the entrance. Chishiya instantly turned off his torch and tugged me into one of the tunnels. Kuina joined us and we hid, waiting. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and two torchlights waved through the darkness. I kept my eyes trained on the tunnel opposite as the footsteps paused.

‘Where is this place?’

‘Who knows?’

With a sigh, I relaxed instantly.

Those two.

It had only been a few days since I had made peace with Arisu and Usagi, but I was glad to see them again. Arisu was cleaned up, his wounds well on the way to healing, while Usagi stared in amazement at the television screens around us.

Chishiya grazed past me as he moved out from under the shadows. ‘You actually found this place,’ he said. ‘As expected from someone I have high hopes for.’

‘We meet again,’ Kuina said, walking around the desks to lean against the wall.

Arisu and Usagi’s eyes scanned the two of them before stopping at me. They looked visibly confused, probably wondering what I was doing with them after I’d told them I wasn’t involved in Chishiya’s setup. In an attempt at diffusing the awkwardness, I smiled and waved.

‘You guys,’ Usagi whispered. Her voice bordered on distrust, not that anyone could blame her.

I couldn’t tell whether Chishiya was trying to make things better or worse when he held up the full deck of cards and smiled. ‘Thanks to you guys, I have all the playing cards with me,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Arisu only looked at him cynically. ‘How did you discover this place?’

Chishiya rooted in his pocket and pulled out the drawing. ‘It took me some time to realise this is actually a map. The route map of the subway.’ He sauntered around the desks. ‘As for what happens when we collect the cards... I thought I would know the answer if I came here.’ His eyes jumped to mine. ‘But there’s something else we discovered instead.’

‘They’re not the gamemasters,’ Arisu said, eyes fixed on the bodies around us.

I stepped over a hand strewn across the floor. ‘カードを集めたので、殺された.’ Because we collected the cards, they were all killed. I struggled for a moment, trying to think of the right words. ‘There must be someone above them.’

Chishiya translated, and Usagi turned to me with worry. ‘But who?’

‘Who knows?’ Chishiya shrugged. ‘They might be aliens... or even God.’

The idea didn’t sound as strange as it should have done. We were in a world where lasers appeared from the sky, and death games were the norm. Even when I first arrived here, I’d wondered whether this was a form of judgement. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

Suddenly, the screens burst into life and white light flooded the room. I jumped, flocking to Chishiya and Kuina’s side.

Have we been caught?

Music reverberated all around us, and the screens displayed all four card suits, along with a message I couldn’t read. It didn’t matter though, as the voice that rang through the speakers was one I remembered well. My stomach dropped.

‘Congratulations to all players!’

The screens blurred until Mira’s wild eyes and subdued smile came into focus. It was now obvious why the Ten of Hearts had taken place at the Beach at the very moment things had fallen apart.

She must’ve been feeding information back, I thought. But back to where?

‘How interesting,’ Chishiya said. Seeking stability, I slipped a hand into his pocket. There was a slight hesitation before his fingers laced around mine.

Mira’s voice shook with a quiet excitement. ‘With the exception of the face cards, you’ve all cleared the numbered games and emerged as victors. It’s a sweet victory, gained by sacrificing so many lives.’ Her expression turned wistful as she stood. ‘I wonder, how many of your comrades have died. Try remembering those who were shot dead with guns.’

A single screen switched to show footage from a miscellaneous game. A group were stood, clutching their guns as they inspected the scatter of bodies across the ground.

They’ve been recording us.

‘And that girl you burned alive.’

A second display opened up, revealing several players watching on as a girl, engulfed in flames, struggled and clawed at her skin and clothes. I held my breath, Niragi’s animalistic cries ringing through my memory.

‘Those struck by lasers, and those that drowned.’

My eyes widened, and I gripped Chishiya’s hand as the inside of the furniture store appeared on-screen. The fractured image of myself flinched, quivering with shock, as the first man and Green Shirt leapt from their seats, only to crumple to the ground, lasers piercing them where they stood.

Chishiya’s fingers squeezed mine, and I gasped, blinking away the image. He must’ve seen it too.

‘Those who’s heads were blown off,’ Mira continued, dreamily. ‘Those comrades of yours, the despair you’ve felt so far, and those dying moments you’ll never forget.’

The screen changed once more, and from the corner of my eye, Arisu winced. Following his gaze, I recognized his partner from the Tag game, his neck exploding around a collar.

I’m so sorry....

Meanwhile, Mira’s expression shifted into pure, childlike delight. ‘Everyone... I’m so touched!’ She held her hand over her heart. ‘All of you players, we’d like to give you a present.’

We?

Chishiya tensed slightly. He had noticed it too. If Mira wasn’t the only gamemaster, just who were the others?

Although Mira couldn’t hear us, Kuina mumbled, ‘Are you returning us to the real world?’

It seemed too good to be true, and sure enough, it was. Mira clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘There will be new games! Let’s play more games together and fight for the face cards this time!’

Aside from Chishiya, everyone sank with disappointment and fear. Just how much more would we have to deal with before we could go home? If we were competing for the face cards, did that mean there were only twelve more games in total, or would there be repeat cards like there were for the numbered ones?

Kuina groaned. ‘New games? You’re kidding.’

‘I don’t dislike the idea,’ Chishiya murmured.

I looked at him, curious. ‘What do you mean?’

His expression was guarded, but before he could reply, Mira’s voice cut in again. ‘The next stage will commence tomorrow at noon. Everyone, let’s have fun together!’

All at once, the screens shut down, leaving us all in the darkness once more. Everything was quiet as we came to terms with what had just happened. It was Arisu who first suggested that we get out of here. Him and Usagi disappeared back through the tunnel, and with one glance at Chishiya and I, Kuina followed.

My fingers were still interlaced with his, hidden within the warmth of his pocket. He was watching me, waiting.

‘These games,’ I said. ‘They’re going to be harder than the others.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Probably.’

‘About what you said before...’ I began. ‘Do you remember that time on the rooftop of the Beach, when I asked you if you were okay, and you told me it shouldn’t matter to me.’

I could see him thinking back. ‘I remember.’

‘What I said then still stands. You might not care about your own life, and I can’t stop you from taking part in these new games.’ I bit my lip, unable to face him as my eyes began tearing up. ‘Perhaps this is selfish of me, but you need to survive. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then....’

He sighed. ‘You cry too much.’ When I looked up, his lips were curled into that same, familiar smile, only this time, there was nothing cruel or condescending there. ‘We should find the others.’

Wiping my eyes with the edge of my sleeve, I finally let go of his hand, following him back out and through the tunnels. As we climbed the steps of the station, emerging into daylight, a series of loud bangs resounded throughout the city. The others were peering up at the skyscrapers towering over us, and the fireworks that burst like flowers against the sunlight.

‘Let’s make a new deal,’ Chishiya said, idly watching the display. ‘I’ll survive, if you return the favour.’

I looked to him, admiring the way his hair shifted in the breeze, and how the reflection of the fireworks danced in his dark eyes.

Let’s go home together.

‘It’s a deal.’

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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ayoitsnic · 3 years

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Platonic! Sam x Reader x Dean

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger Warnings: None? Violence that's pretty typical for Supernatural

Summary: Sam and Dean found out they have a sister. They're very skeptical at first but upon meeting they find out that despite 2 totally different upbringings they have more in common than they expected.

*Disclaimer* I wouldn't normally describe y/n in fics but in this one I did so purposefully to show the similarities between the siblings. I've been told some people are a bit touchy on that.

Oh also this is the first fanfic I've ever written so I'd be happy with constructive criticism.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

'Shit' Y/N thought to herself as she was put through to her dad's voicemail. 'Wait....it said call his son....does that mean...? Wait do I have a brother he never told me about!?' Grabbing a pen and a pad of sticky notes she called again, this time hoping for voicemail so she could write that number down.

'This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.'

She got his voicemail again, quickly scribbling down the number before hanging up and dialing it.

Sam and Dean were just finishing up a ghoul case in Indiana when Dean's phone began ringing in the glove compartment of the Impala. Reaching over from the driver's side Dean quickly found his phone, glancing at the caller ID "Unknown Number?" He questioned out loud. He assumed it was a scam caller, but answered it anyway just in case "Hello?"

"Is this Dean?" A female voice asked, sounding mostly nervous, but also just a teensy bit excited.

"Who's this?" Dean questioned skeptically, causing Sam to look over curiously from the passengers side

"I'm Y/N. I umm....this is gonna sound crazy but I'm your sister." She felt weird saying that. Until 5 minutes ago she was an only child. "I tried calling dad but it went straight to voicemail and said to call you if it was an emergency...I kind of need help.."

Shocked with the idea of possibly having a sister Dean pulled the car over to a screeching halt, putting the hazard lights on. He needed a minute to take that in. He put the phone on speaker so Sam could hear what was being said "No that's impossible. Dad already had one kid we didn't know about. No way he had a second." Dean said, obviously in denial.

"He what?" Y/N asked, a grin spreading across her face. Regardless of the circumstances that prompted this call, she was elated to find out she had more than one sibling

Realizing what he had just said, Dean shook his head "Nevermind. Where are you?" He asked as Sam began to flip through John's journal, looking for any hint that there might've been another Winchester out there. It didn't take long for him to find the missing pages not even halfway through the book. It would seem she was born long before Adam.

"I'm in the Poconos, in Pennsylvania." Y/N responded

"Okay well we're about 10 hours from there. We'll be there in the morning." Dean told her "Text me the address." The phone call ended and Y/N texted him the address. They weren't sure what the emergency was that she had to call their dad for but regardless of whether or not it was their kind of thing, Sam and Dean were definitely gonna haul ass to go meet this mystery woman.

The next day Sam and Dean found themselves in Northeast Pennsylvania before noon hit. When they finally reached their destination they realized that this woman had grown up so differently from them. She lived in one of those fancy gated communities. Well THEY considered it fancy. Y/N was used to it, but then again the bar wasn’t too high with the childhood Sam and Dean had. The houses were big, the yards green, you needed a pass from security to get in, the only thing missing were picket fences.

"Are we sure we aren't walking into a trap?" Sam asked Dean as they stood on the big white porch, ringing the doorbell. "Well if we are, we're certainly prepared." Dean had grabbed holy water and had his gun tucked into the back of his jeans. Sam, a little silver and the Demon killing knife. It wouldn't protect from /everything/ but it'd save them from most of their most common threats.

When Y/N opened the door you could definitely see the family resemblance between her and Sam. She was tall for a woman, standing around 5'10, had light brown, shoulder length hair. Her eyes though, those were a beautiful shade of green like Dean's. It was almost like looking in a mirror for the boys "Hey." She greeted, letting them in

"Which one of you did I speak to on the phone?" She questioned

"That would be me." Dean replied, raising his hand a bit "This is my brother Sam." Sam was still trying to get over the fact that it looked someone took him and hit copy/paste.

"Wow. Dad really got around didn't he?" She commented without thinking. "4 kids, good for him." Just like Adam whom Dean had very briefly mentioned the day before, John Winchester while still her father, wasn't in the picture that often. Sure he seemed like a cool guy the few times a year he would visit but they never really had a proper Father/Daughter connection. She did care about him, but at the end of the end of the day he was just a person she knew she could trust, hence she didn't think twice about making comments like that until she noticed the look on her brothers' faces when she said it. "Sorry, I want thinking when I said that." She quickly apologized, wanting to move on.

Upon entering, the whole house smelled like Palo Santo wood. She found the scent very calming. "Anyways it's a hell of a drive from Indiana. You hungry? I made pie." She offered.

Dean's face lit up at that "What kind?" He asked with a small grin

"Blueberry. It's my mom's recipe." Y/N replied as she motioned for them to sit at the kitchen table. While she took out a knife to serve the pie, Sam had swapped out her utensils for ones they knew were silver.

"So what was so important you felt the need to call us up here?" Sam asked. Y/N could already tell she liked Sam. He gave off good vibes.

Y/N stayed silent for a moment before telling them "My cousin was found dead the other night. He had his throat ripped out. Cops say it was a Mountain Lion but it sounded like something that might interest Dad. Where is he by the way? I tried calling him a few more times and it just kept going straight to voicemail. Doesn't even ring."

Sam and Dean both looked a bit sad as they had to break the news that their father had passed away and had been dead for quite some time now. Upon hearing that, Y/N didn't really react. She wasn't sure how to. Of course she should've felt something because it was her father, but at the same time, as mentioned previously, he wasn't around a lot. He was absent for most of her life just like he was for Sam and Dean's. Sure he was there for the big stuff like birthdays, her high school graduation, or prom night where he let her drive up in the impala, but it was the small stuff she wanted him there for.

"So you know about the whole 'fighting monsters' thing then?" Dean asked as he splashed a small amount of holy water on her leg under the table. Sam kicked him under the table for even mentioning it. What was he thinking!? She didn't even notice the holy water but the question caused Y/N to look at him weird.

"What the hell are you talking about? Mom always said he was a fed." This almost forced Sam to hold in a chuckle.

Despite looks from Sam telling him it was a bad idea to tell her what they really do and that it was probably a vampire that killed her cousin, Dean told her anyway. They already made the mistake of not being totally upfront with Adam. Dean wasn’t making that mistake again "Yeah, okay." She chuckled dryly "You fight monsters. Sure you do." Like any sane person, she thought they were bullshitting. "Next you're gonna tell me you've found bigfoot out something." She said sarcastically

"Actually Bigfoot's one of the few things that isn't real." Dean told her with a smirk

"Tell ya what, you fight monsters?" She motioned towards her two brothers "Prove it. Show me these monsters. Let's go find the 'Vampire' " she said with finger quotations "that killed my cousin."

"Oh no no no." Sam finally spoke up "I was against telling you about what we do to begin with, but I'm drawing the line at having you go out on a hunt. You could really hurt. Or worse, killed."

"What is this, some bullshit male chivalry thing? Do you think women can't do the job?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no that has nothing to do with it." Sam quickly back tracked "It's just that you only found out today that monsters are real, you've never hunted before, and we don't want you getting hurt."

Y/N got quiet for a moment, contemplating how she wanted to respond to that. When she finally spoke, she leaned across the kitchen table and told the boys very calmly, like eerily calmly "He was my family. I'm going and we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice." It was loud and clear, in no uncertain terms that she would do anything for her family. That included killing vampires.

The group went silent again. Sam and Dean exchanged a few glances before Dean relented "Alright fine, but you follow our lead."

"Deal." Y/N nodded

It didn't take long to locate the vamp nest. Only a day or two. In that time Sam had given Y/N a full rundown of everything she'd need to know about Vampires. How they're nocturnal but that doesn't mean they can't wake up during the day, how the whole 'stake through the heart' thing doesn't actually work and you gotta cut the heads off, and how they normally live in groups.

Thankfully it was a small nest, only about 6 or 7 of them. When the 3 of them pulled up to the old, long abandoned Birchwood Resort, Dean popped the trunk revealing their weapons cache. Y/N looked surprised to see all that stuff, peeking over Dean's shoulder to get a better look. "I've never seen so many weapons in one place. That's awesome." She grinned as Dean handed her a machete. Sam looked at Dean, thinking to himself how similar she sounded to him.

"Alright, Sam and I are gonna go in. Stay out here and if you see any of them try to run out just chop the head off." Dean told her

"You're crazy if you expect me to stay out here and miss all the action." Y/N told Dean as she leaned against the side of her dad's car. She didn't care how long the old man had been dead. To her, that would always be his car. NOT Dean's. With a sigh, she looked up to the night sky and ran her fingers through her hair "Alright fine, whatever. You're the master. I'm just the padawan." She shrugged, kind of annoyed but not in the mood to argue. Sam chuckled at the Star Wars reference.

"This place is huge though." Y/N added "It's really easy to get lost in. You might be better off with someone who grew up here and is familiar with the area. I wonder where you could find someone like that." She hinted, as her and her friends would explore this place as teenagers. "I think we'll be okay." Sam declined. They really were set on having her outside. Thinking about it, she could definitely understand the decision. They'd probably see her as a liability.

Once Sam and Dean had found the nest, the massacre began. After killing half the nest Dean found himself pinned under a vamp, his weapon thrown across the room where he could reach it. "Sammy!!!!!" He called out but Sam was busy with 2 vampires of his own.

Outside Y/N had grown bored of waiting for the boys to return. How long did it take to kill a few 'Vampires'? 'Fuck it' she thought to herself 'I'm going in.' And that's exactly what she did. Looking around the place for her brothers she ran into 1 vampire. Too Easy. She cut the head off as it made a move to go after her. Looking at the decapitated head on the ground made her nauseated but she pushed on.

Before long she heard a commotion From inside one of the private cabins. Peeking through a window she saw the bad position they were in. Scared, and sick to her stomach she ran into the cabin. Swinging the machete in her hand she killed the vampire that had Dean pinned. It was a clean cut and came centimeters from Dean's throat.

He got up, grabbing his own machete to help out Sam. After the vamps were dead Y/N averted her gaze, trying to avoid looking at more dead bodies as she caught her breath.

"I thought we told you to wait outside!" Dean told her to which she instantly responded with "And I thought Sam said you guys would be okay on your own but I just had to come and save you. You should be thanking me."

With a sigh Dean nodded "Are you okay?" He asked, just making sure. "I'm fine. I'm covered in blood and I just killed 2 Vampires, but I'm fine." Despite the nausea, she grinned. The whole hunting thing wasn't supposed to be fun, but this was the most excitement she had in a long time. "Alright, I don't know about you guys but I would kill for a shower right now. If you want after that I know a great bar off main street. I could use a stiff drink."

Sam and Dean left 2 days later, having found a case in Virginia. "We are gonna keep in touch, right?" Y/N asked as Sam and Dean put their duffel bags in the Impala

"Of course we are." Dean agreed while Sam added his contact info to her phone. She of course already had Dean's info saved. "You sure you don't wanna come with us?" He asked which caused Y/N to shake her head lightly "As much as I would love to, I have responsibilities up here. Work, family, what's left of a mortgage to pay off...Maybe one day though." She offered a soft smile.

After hugging both boys and telling Dean to drive safe, they took off for Virginia. "Dude," Sam looked over at Dean "I know we were skeptical at first but can we agree she's definitely related to us?"

Dean looked at Sam weird “I don’t see it.”

“You’re kidding right?” Sam asked “Aside from the fact that she’s like a walking replica of me, she makes really good pie; you love pie. You saw how defensive she got when I told her it’d be safer to sty at home while we took care of the vamps. It’s clear she’d do anything for her family. Sound like someone you know? and while we’re on the subject let’s talk about the fact that she’s not a terrible hunter. She’s far from a natural and a little weak stomached, but for someone who’s probably never killed a thing in their life she wasn’t bad.” Sam listed all the different ways she was just like Dean.

“What was the first thing she said when she saw the arsenal he keep in the trunk?” Sam asked his brother who responded with “I dunno. What’d she say?”

“She said ‘That’s awesome. She sounded just like you.” Sam insisted

Dean sat silent for a moment, focusing on the road ahead of them before relenting “Yeah okay when you put it like that she’s definitely related.” He agreed

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x reader #female reader

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shadowsong26fic · 3 years

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Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month (and year. Thank every known deity in the universe.)

...ahem.

Yeah. It’s been a...well, 2020. But it is now officially a new month and year, and time for a Coming Attractions post!

The big news, obviously, is that I actually finished Precipice. \o/ ...well, the first seven arcs, anyway.

As I’ve discussed before, and explained in my very long author’s note at the end of the final chapter on Ao3, the next steps for this AU are a series of seven one-shots which will be released as ‘Preludes,’ covering the six-year timegap before Arc Eight. These mostly deal with Rebels characters (although I’m slightly rethinking one of them because I should probably include Mara Jade in it...), as well as Sidious’ fifth apprentice and possibly Maul.

I’ll also be starting the sequel, entitled either Protectors or Promises (it’s been Protectors for a while, but now I’m waffling? IDK). Anyway, that picks up with arc Eight, Escalation, six years after the end of Precipice. I’ll probably post a preview snippet sometime this month because Why Not.

There will be a hiatus (an actually Planned one this time, lol...). I’m aiming to start posting in April, but we’ll see how things go.

Anyway, moving on to other plans!

Other Star Wars Projects:

our faces like a mirror

I totally planned to start posting that this year <.< On the plus side, I don’t...think the Siege of Mandalore arc (or the stuff from the Mandalorian) really Jossed anything I had planned? Especially given the fact that it’s set from 5 years pre-TPM (I recognize that Lucasfilm has made a timeline decision but given that it’s a stupid-ass timeline decision I have elected to ignore it) to about 5 years post-TPM, so I wasn’t really expecting it to, but it was a vague concern of mine. Anyway, I’ll rewatch to be sure before I post, probably. But, yeah, I’m all the more excited about my girl Bo-Katan now, so hopefully I’ll get some momentum on this.

2021 SWBB:

I finally figured out a general shape of the plot, lol! And I have about...just under 4k of miscellaneous text in this AU (like, actual Story text, not just random notes and scribbles of which I have. A Lot). I need to get another 2k by Sunday, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s going to be in four parts, plus prelude/interludes/coda, because that is the Structure that my brain at like 4AM gave me the other night, lol. While I don’t know the details, I have a general idea of What Happen in parts one, three, and four; except for tying in some Mandalore stuff and making some Decisions about who I want to draw in at various points. Part Two is also up in the air. I know how it needs to end to set up part three, but not so sure about what should actually go in there. Possibly I’ll end up cutting Part Two and just having a three-part story, but eh, we’ll see.

Anyway, I’m having fun with this, especially since I’ve discovered the Plot, so we’ll see how things go from here :)

Other SW Fanfics:

I am...hoping??? to resurrect Distaff and/or the Ventress outline at some point this year, because I’m very fond of those AUs and they deserve some more love. Possibly also another Devoted story. We shall see.

AtLA Fanfic Projects:

As I’ve mentioned a few times over the past few months, I’ve fallen back into this fandom (which was my primary fandom for...like...four to six years????) And I definitely want to write more in it. I’ve already done one AU outline, and I have plans for a couple fulltext fics (...discounting the super-self-indulgent crossover stuff I don’t super plan on sharing outside a very small circle lol). I don’t have much actual, uh, Text on anything yet, but I’m hoping to start posting one or more of those at some point this year, too.

Project One is an Avatar Zuko AU; Aang is around for reasons that do get explained in story; Zuko finds out a couple months before the duel with his father when accidental water or airbending happens (he’s in a sailboat, there’s a storm, I haven’t worked out the details yet). He decides That Clearly Didn’t Happen and proceeds to ignore it...until he manages to accidentally waterbend again when in the infirmary post-duel. At which point he decides he Does Not want to be just...used as a weapon. He figures he has about three and a half years before the comet, he can use that time to figure out what to do next; maybe come back with the comet and Prove his Worth at that point.

He goes to the WAT first, to see what he can figure out about airbending from any texts/mosaics/whatever that are still there; then he heads to the NWT; then he’ll probably pick up Toph because I love their dynamic. He plans to spend a year on each other element (not enough time for mastery but that comet deadline looms large). Obviously, over the course of those three years, his plans change.

And then things get thrown even more off the rails when Aang emerges from the iceberg before Zuko’s year of earthbending is up.

There will be a fair number of OCs hanging around (both to give him someone to talk to at the WAT and I think he’s going to learn from a less-prominent master than Pakku when he gets to the NWT), as well as Iroh trying to find his nephew, and various other familiar faces from the show.

Project Two is about Lu Ten, and a lover he had during the Siege of Ba Sing Se, and what happens to her (and her daughter) after his death. I’ve talked about that one in a little more detail in other posts, I think, hence the comparatively short summary, lol.

Original Stuff:

I am hoping to get more origfic posted this year than I did last year. I’ve got these universes I love exploring, and I feel like they should get more attention, lol.

...I think that about covers it! At the end of last year, I set myself some Goals, which were. Well. 2020 happened, soooo...

Anyway, because I am an Optimist, I’m going to set goals again for this year. And I guess go over how well I did on the ones I had??? A lot of my goals will probably be repeats from last year, because...yeah.

2020 Goals

1. Finish Precipice; complete Arcs 8 and 9 in Protectors/Promises/Precipice II; put out some level of Arc 7.5/Preludes content. I did finish Precipice! I did not do the other things. 2. Write at least 10k of origfic content. Not quite--I ended up with 8,129 words. 3. Start posting OFLAM Nope, that did not happen. 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (i.e., Distaff; Auxiliaries; Phoenix!Verse; one of the BSG fics I keep meaning to go back to if I ever actually sit down and rewatch the series; if I add an actual sequel/companion to Deja Vu… that probably counts…) Did not happen. 5. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added. Nope. 6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind; preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience and actually writing up the main part of Let’s Go Steal a Crossover; but any outline will count. I did put up one AtLA outline, as mentioned before; and I also posted a massive timeline for the Jedi of Valdemar AU, but nothing else. 7. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges. Did complete BB, and one giftfic exchange over the summer. 8. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day; Mother’s Day; Father’s Day; Halloween; New Year’s; etc.) and post on the appropriate day. Did not do the thing.

2021 Goals

1. Post Arcs 8 and 9 in Precipice!Verse as well as at least half of the Preludes stories. 2. Write at least 10k of origfic content. 3. Start posting OFLAM. 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic; preferably Distaff; but Auxiliaries or Phoenix!verse or one of the BSG fics would also count (Serenissima, Other Battlestar, For Sorrow Sung rewrite...) 5. Start posting at least one AtLA fulltext fic. 6. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added. 7. Find a title and set up an archive for Untitled Intrigues Story 8. At least four AU outline installments of some kind, preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience 9. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges. 10. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Halloween, New Year’s, etc.) and post on the appropriate day.

#coming attractions #shadowsong26fic #miscellania

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a-ratt · 5 years

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MLB Fanfic: Sins of the Past Chapter I: Not-so-Normal

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(AO3 Link)

(Chapter List)

Marinette Dupain-Cheng sat alone atop her balcony, knees tucked to her chest and face buried in her arms. Sobs wracked her body as dark clouds rumbled over Paris. The forecasted rainfall hadn’t started yet, but amidst her tears and snot, she could smell the moisture in the air. It was warm. Tense.

She’d been up here for an hour, maybe longer. Her parents hadn’t heard her come in, seeing as she was supposed to be at school. But being in that place… with her? That monster?

Her fingers dragged along her jeans and she curled them into fists. An angry fire burned in the pit of her stomach and she grit her teeth to bar any venomous words from spilling out. That didn’t stop them from pooling in her head, bouncing around her mind as today’s events replayed in her head.

Usually, she was able to endure the entire school day before coming home to vent. Today, however, things had gone farther than ever before.

“What did I tell you? All your friends are mine.”

Lila had cornered her in the classroom during lunch. She’d forgotten her journal, or at least she thought she did. Separated from the others, she found Lila holding it, sifting through the pages. She’d frozen at first, shocked and horrified. Her nemesis had pulled at a few pages, taunting her with a smirk.

“You’ve got one more chance, Marinette. Give up or get lost.”

She’d stood her ground. They were alone, no one would see them. This wasn’t outing her, just reaffirming her stance. She could back down and not rile her up, like Adrien said, but she had to do this. Because the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.

So, she did something, she stood her ground. Then, Lila took her journal and smacked herself in the face.

She remembered staring, stunned, and then hearing her class gasp when they walked in on them. Alya had run over, shoving her aside to get to Lila, who feigned agony as she teared up. Kim and Alix pulled her back while everyone glared. Her ears rang as they bombarded her with crass remarks and demands.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“How could you hurt Lila?”

“What has she ever done to you?”

“I thought you were supposed to be our Everyday Ladybug?”

In the end, it’d been too much to handle and she ran. She pushed them out of the way, barreling down the walkway and the stairs. She left her book bag behind, along with her courage and integrity. She couldn’t handle it anymore.

She didn’t stop running until she was at the bottom of the front steps and a hand grabbed her wrist. She didn’t hear Adrien until he turned her around to face him.

“Marinette, what happened?” He’d held her face, wiping away a tear. Though it was a gentle touch, a chill ran up her spine. “Did something happen?”

She told him everything. The confrontation. The threats, before and now. The lengths Lila was willing to go to make sure she destroyed her. But what did Adrien do? What did he do besides harden his gaze and ask her why she had riled her up. Why had she stood up to Lila? It was only going to get her akumatized.

Marinette dug her nails into her arms, threatening to draw blood. She choked on a sob as her heart cracked again, the love she’d felt now revealing its ugly truth. The obsession she’d held leaving her as its roots ripped themselves out from nearly every facet of her being.

“You’re just another bully, Marinette.”

The hand she’d used to slap him still stung, but the pain felt… good. Right. She clenched her hand and held the burning heat in her palm. Thunder rumbled above her and lightning clapped in the far distance.

She held onto that memory of lost innocence as a drop of rain touched her head. Looking up, she watched the rain fall. It was cold and wet, but she couldn't be bothered to move. Instead, she sat there, face raised to the heavens, as the rain washed her pain away. In the end, she was left cold and empty, the only thing left inside of her hollow heart being a revelation.

"So, this is what happens when good people do nothing…."

In that moment, amidst the calming chaos of the storm, she felt the cold touch of fingertips on the surface of her mind.

“Bonjour, little bug.”

Fifteen Years Later

It was just another normal day in Paris. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the city was bustling. Cars drove past green lights, stopped at reds, and slowed up to yellow ones. Pedestrians walked to and from work, making their way through their daily lives. Meanwhile, kids filtered into their schools, prepared for another day of learning. Well, almost all of them.

One teen, dressed in worn jeans and a baggy hoodie, paced anxiously before the front steps of Collège Françoise Dupont. Her hands were jammed in her pockets and her hood was drawn up, hiding her dark-skinned face as she bounced muttered to herself.

“Nobody’s going to notice you. You’re just the totally normal, new kid.” She stopped and looked up at the front doors. A dozen possible disastrous futures played out in her head and she grimaced. “But what if someone does recognize me?”

She debated her options, balancing the pros and cons. In the end, however, it was the bell that made the decision for her.

The sudden, shrill ringing jump started her fight or flight instincts and, between going home or facing her parents’ wrath, she flew up the stairs to class. She only slowed down when she got inside, finding herself in a large courtyard. Apparently, the second floor was accessible by walkway instead of a whole, walled off stairs and hallway. Weird.

Whipping out her schedule, she checked her room number and then glanced around at the tags next to each door, trying to find a pattern. Figuring it out, she made her way to the right and up the steps, then down the walkway to the room at the far end.

"Adale-"

She barged through the classroom door, cutting off the blonde adult calling attendance. The moment every eye in the room focused on her, she went rigid. The teacher gave her a quick once over before checking the clipboard in his hand and then scanning the classroom.

"Oh, you must be number fourteen." He scribbled something with his pen, then pointed it at an empty seat. "There's an open seat up front for you right there."

Flushed red and unable to get anything besides a meek "merci" out, she scurried over to her seat. The teacher continued calling out names, and those who didn't call present gossiped and snickered. Sitting herself down, she kept her head low and hood up, concealing her burning face.

So far, so terrible. She'd been late, interrupted attendance, and gotten a front row seat, meaning there was no way she was going to go unnoticed now-

"Pst." Someone nudged her left arm. "Hey."

Lifting her head up and glancing past her hood, she looked at the girl next to her. She was a tall, modestly dressed teen, with black hair and blue eyes. One of her hands was held out, offered along with a bright smile.

"Bonjour," she whispered, "I'm Amicia."

She stared at her hand, then at the girl. Caught off-guard, she stared before shifting her attention away awkwardly.

"Kamala." She crossed her arms and propped them on the desk.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the girl's offered hand wilt and her friendly expression turn into one of disappointment.

"Kamala Lavillant-Couffaine?"

Kamala sat up straight. Her neighbor coughed. The class gave mixed reactions of gasps or quiet looks. A second passed as the teacher looked around.

She could hear other kids whispering to each other. Sharing opinions and remarks. The girl next to her elbowed her again and she shot her a glare.

Her neighbor gave her a surprised look. Then gestured at their teacher with a nod. He was about to scribble on his clipboard.

Kamala swallowed. "Um, present!"

She felt her classmates' eyes burning holes in the back of her head. Suddenly, it felt hotter. Stuffier. She was suffocating in her hoodie but taking it off would make her feel even more exposed.

"So, you're Rose and Juleka's?" He looked up from his clipboard and frowned. "Could you take off your hood please? The school doesn't allow anything covering your head on in class."

Before she could argue, he was already moving onto the next student. Her head sank between her shoulders as her classmates gossiped in the background. Without much choice, she drew back her hood and let it fall.

Her brunette hair fell out and the classroom's cool air hit her head. She felt naked. Vulnerable. The girl next to her, Amicia, kept popping up out of the corner of her eye, stealing looks and sharing whispers with their classmates behind them.

"Amicia Lécuyer?"

Her desk partner raised her hand. "Here!"

The teacher gave her a smile and a nod, then scribbled on his clipboard. He moved onto someone else, leaving Kamala to try and ignore the other girl. However, it wasn't long before the other teen was elbowing her again.

"So..." she said quietly, eyes darting between her and the teacher, "your parents are rock stars, right?"

She frowned and turned her head away again. "Yeah."

"Awesome."

"Mmhm."

She crossed her arms and held them over her chest. Amicia seemed to get the clue and pulled back to her side of the desk. They sat together awkwardly while attendance finished up.

"Alright, class." Their teacher stepped back and leaned against his desk. "So… welcome to troisième."

Excited chattering filled the classroom as old friends shared cheers and new kids, like her, shifted anxiously beneath the celebrations.

"Anyways, I should probably introduce myself." Their teacher set down his clipboard and took off his glasses. "My name is Adrien Agreste, and I'll be your homeroom teacher for the year."

Walking out of school felt a whole lot better than walking in. With the day over, she was free to finally escape that hell, where everyone wanted to know here and everyone wanted a piece of her, all for the sake of knowing her parents.

Adjusting the straps of her backpack, Kamala hopped down the school’s front steps. At the curb, a silver SUV was parked, its driver and passenger both waving at her.

“Kamala!” her maman called, arm sticking out the window. “Over here!”

Her mom wiped a hand over her face. “She can see us, Rose.”

Kamala stared at them, red-faced, and sighed before making the rest of the trip to the car. Other teens pouring out of Françoise Dupont looked on in shock and awe. A few of them were whispering while others rummaged in their bags for something to get signed.

Quickening her pace, she scurried to her parents’ car and climbed into the back.

“So, how was school?” Her maman looked over her seat, big blue eyes sparkling with wonder. “Did you have a lot of fun?”

She looked at her, arms crossed and face burning. “It was alright.”

Someone knocked on the window and Kamala’s eye twitched. If it was actually one of her classmates, she was going to ask to get home-schooled again-

“Mon dieu, Adrien!”

Kamala jumped at her maman’s squeal. She had to dig a finger into her ear to try and suppress the ringing in her ear. Looking up, she found her mom giggling and her maman hastily clambering out of the car to hug her teacher.

Unable to process everything at once, she just sat there and stared. Meanwhile, her mom stepped out to join her maman outside, and they both embraced M. Agreste.

“It’s great to see you guys again,” he said, stepping back. “When I saw your daughter’s name on my roster, I thought I might check and see if you were picking her up.”

“Were you expecting us to send a limo?” Her mom laughed and M. Agreste shared it timidly. “Sorry, I know that’s kind of a sore spot for you.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. I mean, I drive myself everywhere now. Sometimes, I take Gorilla with me too.”

“How the turns table.”

He laughed. “Right?”

They shared the laughter again, this time with more fervor. Beside them, her maman bounced on her heels, waiting to speak up. When their laughter died down, M. Agreste turned to her.

“So, you’re going to be teaching our daughter?”

He shrugged. “Technically, I’m just her homeroom teacher, but I’m also teaching science. Well, general sciences.”

The trio of adults continued chatting for a while, catching up and swapping stories, as well as jokes and laughter. Around them, teens and adults alike looked on at the gathered celebrities, which only prompted Kamala to sink lower in her seat, hoping people wouldn’t see her.

She only looked around a few times, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. Most of the school had cleared out, but a chunk of the population had gathered in the front courtyard. Some were taking pictures of her parents and M. Agreste, others were just talking to each other. She noticed a few of her classmates walking around, most just leaving while a few stayed.

Nearby, in the park across the street, she spied her desk partner, that tall girl named Amicia. She had a whole clique with her, laughing with them and stealing glances in her direction, or rather, her parents’ direction. She narrowed her eyes and sat back in her seat, giving a huff of frustration.

“Hey, you know what!” M. Agreste snapped his fingers and she looked out the window at the adults. “I’m having a get-together with Alya and Nino tonight. I know they invited Ivan, Mylène, and Nathaniel. Alix might even show up too.”

Her maman clasped her hands and gasped. “That sounds amazing! We can have a class reunion!”

“I think Kim and Ondine are also off tonight,” her mom said. “We can give them a call and see if they want to show up.”

Her maman dug out her phone from her purse as they considered their old classmates, a few being family friends.

“I wonder if Max is free too. I’ll text him.” Her maman looked up from her phone. “Who else do you want to invite?”

M. Agreste rubbed his chin, then smiled. “You know what, just invite everyone.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #ap fanfic: sins of the past #chapter i: not-so-normal #ml salt #ml angst #marinette dupain-chen #mlb ocs #a ratt's fanfics

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go-events · 4 years

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GO Rom Com Spotlight: @wyvernquill

The amazing @wyvernquill (also WyvernQuill on AO3) has claimed Ruby Sparks to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About Ruby Sparks: Young author Calvin Weir-Fields (Paul Dano), once a literary darling, is having trouble composing his next novel. Following a therapist's advice, Calvin pulls out an old manual typewriter and creates a vivacious, flame-haired woman he dubs Ruby Sparks (Zoe Kazan). Overnight, Ruby leaps from the page into Calvin's home as a real flesh-and-blood woman. And, what's more, she's unaware that she's actually a fictional character and that her actions and feelings are dictated by whatever Calvin writes.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @wyvernquill a little better!

* * *

goromcom: Let’s begin with what Tumblr can tell me about you. You know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #fanart and #illustration". I really admire people who can draw *and* write. Do you enjoy one more than the other?

wyvernquill: Oh, don't ask me to choose between my brain-children! I love both for different reasons, and find some ideas are easier to express in writing, others through drawing; though I also love to combine the two by illustrating my fics or writing something based on some random thing I sketched during class. (I'm also a very quick artist, while my fics tend to balloon out of proportion - so "doing a quick illustration in an hour" and "writing a 102k epic" are two very different and really rather incomparable experiences!)

goromcom: Oh goodness, yes. Two very different creative outlets! But for now, let’s talk about writing. You chose to adapt Ruby Sparks as your rom com. Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

wyvernquill: Cards on the table? I never heard of this movie before. I got very close to writing the fic without having seen it once, and only watched it a week or so ago. (And even then... it's not a *bad* movie, but, personally, I didn't grow attached to the characters at all. Just didn't really appeal to my tastes, I guess.) So, why Ruby Sparks?

Well, I made a List, capital L for significance. In the 12 hours before claims, I researched the plots of every single movie up for claiming - most of which I never heard of, clearly I don't watch enough romcoms - and categorised them into "absolutely not" "mmmmmaybe?" and "possibly", making my way through IMDB short descriptions and Wikipedia pages until the List was down to the top 10; most of which were movies I'd seen or at least heard of - except Ruby Sparks, which I chose for the simple reason that I'd ALREADY written an "accidental" AU of it.

The premise was exactly the same as roughly 3k of unfinished Doctor Who fic I scribbled together and never published, even though I was quite fond of it. I figured I could re-use my favourite elements of that fic, work off the base premise rather than the movie itself, and see where writing takes me.

goromcom: That is quite a ride! I’m a big proponent of re-introducing or recycling ideas or material that you find compelling but weren’t quite able to use before! It’s like, eco-awareness for your mind. :)

Given your history with this movie, this might be an odd question, but: What's your favorite moment of your movie, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

wyvernquill: For reasons already outlined above, this isn't really based directly on any scene of the movie, but I think Aziraphale writing his idea of a "perfect husband" (and a progressively more thinly-veiled self-insert as the main character) will be a delight!

I greatly enjoy having the subjective perception of POV characters and objective reality be comically different - "I'm an excellent cook," he said, scraping the burned remnants of what could really no longer be called an omelette onto a plate - so I think I'll have some fun there. Maybe Aziraphale will defend his Artistic Vision (And Not Wish Fulfillment At All Shut Up) to someone? I'm not sure yet.

goromcom: I have a feeling I know the answer, but let me ask it anyway. Do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

wyvernquill: Bigger changes, definitely. I might pluck an idea or two from the movie - and, surprisingly, the rough progression of events was pretty close to what I planned anyway - but it'll be rather different. (See next answer - I might well take more from Mary Shelley than from Ruby Sparks!)

Also, I'm still a bit undecided on this, but I might actually have Aziraphale publish some of his writing about Crowley from the start, something which doesn't happen in the movie until the very end.

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

wyvernquill: Well, the moral of the movie was more or less that Writer Guy--no, I don't even remember his name!--has to overcome his controlling half-neurotic nature so he can be happy both among his more easy-going family and with the freespirited Ruby. Instead, I intend to have Aziraphale struggling a la Modern Prometheus (what does it mean to create life, to play God, to have a Creature that thinks for itself?), creating a subplot that is more overtly philosophical and thought-provoking, with a hint of religiosity - the essence of what GO is to me.(Meaning the final conflict will not be Writer Guy warping Ruby into a helpless parody of herself, but instead Aziraphale growing afraid of Crowley, who's beginning to show traits he never wrote for him, attempting to "erase" him again before he loses control entirely... but it all ends happily, don't worry! ;))

goromcom: Those are some pretty interesting ideas you’re playing with! I’m looking forward to reading it. But let’s not give too much away, and move on to my last question. I am blatantly stealing this from The Good Place: The Podcast, but here goes: Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

wyvernquill: Oh, the temptation to talk about my four darling cats is Real(tm)... but instead, I want to give a little shout-out to the absolutely fantasticamazingbrilliant teacher at my university who offered a course on fanfic and fandom studies this past term, and who is letting me write my term paper on the Ineffable Fandom!!!

She's the best, lots of fun to discuss with, and research for the paper - deadline in two weeks, I've not yet started writing it, let's hope I get it finished speedily! - is an absolute delight.

(The only difficulty will be staying within the page limit... there's just so much to write about with this wonderful fandom.)

Her course was the highlight of my week, and fan studies (unsurprisingly!) turned out to be a field that really interests me. So thank you so much, Ms Fanfic Teacher, I'm very grateful for... just about everything!!! ^-^ <3

goromcom: That sounds like a fantastic class and an even better teacher. You have to admire the people who go that extra mile to inspire and lift up their students, and get them actually excited about learning.

And you know what else is going to be fantastic? The GO adaptation of Ruby Sparks, coming soon!

#goromcom #goromcom spotlight #good omens #wyvernquill #ruby sparks

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hysterialevi · 4 years

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Red Dead Rising | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: 12 YEARS BEFORE RDR2 - Greed, money, and larceny. These are the only things Arthur has ever known; the only things he’s ever been taught. But when Dutch decides to hit a town called Harlow, what started out as nothing more than a plan to rob the local bank ends up igniting the events that lead to RDR2, and a 24 year-old Arthur is forced to confront his morality while the gang faces a terrifying enemy of their own making.

Point of view: third-person

This story is also on AO3 and Wattpad

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Author’s note: Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. It was really late when I finished this and I don’t have the energy to review it lol. Hope you enjoy regardless though :)

TWO MONTHS LATER

APRIL, 1887

INDIGO PEAK

Scribbling down a few more lines into his journal, Arthur added some last-minute touches to his sketch of Indigo Peak, doin’ his absolute best to capture what was in front of him.

There was a whole array of purple mountains just sitting in front of this camp. They all sat in a majestic, uneven line right above the horizon and towered over a gathering of evergreen trees, separating the sky from the wildlife that lived in the fields and meadows below.

The white sun also hovered above the mountains in a thick blanket of blue-tinted clouds, and provided the landscape with an abundance of rays. They passed through the space between the summits like something out of a painting, and touched the ground in a scattered pattern, giving the grass a dotted look.

It was extraordinarily beautiful, in Arthur’s opinion. He had seen nature’s beauty many times before, but... it was just one of those things that never got old.

Unfortunately for him however, he absolutely despised his drawing.

“Dammit...” Arthur muttered, smudging some of the graphite out.

How did people do this? Arthur originally got the idea to try it from Thomas who was constantly sketching away in his own journal, but the man made it look so easy. His “doodles” were always so detailed and lifelike, and in the meantime, Arthur’s looked like someone drew them in the midst of an earthquake. Or, at least, that was how he saw it.

The young outlaw let out an annoyed sigh and shut the journal closed, deciding to take a break for now as he relaxed on a nearby tree stump.

He was planning to visit Mary, anyway. The woman sent him a letter not too long ago, and apparently, she was in the region with her family. They were attending the wedding of one of her cousins and were staying at a farm that her grandparents owned, just outside of Harlow. Arthur figured he may as well stop by and say hello before they left.

He just hoped he could avoid Mr. Gillis.

None of the people in Mary’s family really liked him to begin with, but that man was an absolute menace whenever Arthur was around. The young outlaw didn’t know what the hell it would take to please Robert, but the fact that the one person who wanted him dead was the father of his fiancée worried him, to say the least.

Arthur understood Robert’s concerns about letting his daughter marry someone who was a criminal -- any good father would -- but at the same time, he thought he had more than proved himself during his time with Mary.

Arthur never put her in danger, or allowed her to get involved with the gang’s activities. He kept her well away from anything Dutch or Hosea did, and even promised to leave that life behind once he and Mary finally tied the knot. There was also the fact that little Jamie seemed to enjoy having Arthur nearby.

He just didn’t know what else he could do to show Robert that he would be a good husband. Maybe he thought Arthur wouldn’t keep his promise? Or that he was too incompetent?

Well, whatever the case was, Arthur had a bad feeling that Robert was going to be more of a headache than he originally expected. He assumed the man would’ve warmed up to him by now -- the wedding wasn’t too far away, after all -- but that obviously hadn’t happened yet.

He supposed he would just have to keep trying. Mary always told Arthur to have hope, but the young man wasn’t so sure that’d be enough anymore. Mr. Gillis was probably the most stubborn man he’d ever met in his life, and if things didn’t work out between the two of them -- well, that was a bridge they’d have to cross when they got to it.

Arthur just prayed he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that.

Breaking the silence, the sound of people arguing suddenly drew Arthur’s attention away from the landscape and cut off his train of thought, leading him to see what all the commotion was about.

It looked like Thomas and Mac were currently stuck in a spat about something at the moment, and the latter seemed to cling to his companion while he strode around camp, desperate to get away from the quarrel.

“--I’m just saying,” Mac reiterated, “we can’t wait forever!”

“And we won’t,” Thomas replied, clearly vexed. “But we need to be careful.”

The two of them came to a halt, carrying on with their argument not too far away from where Arthur was.

“C’mon, Mac. We’ve been robbing stuff with Hosea for nearly a year now. You know how this works. We make a plan, we wait, and when the time comes, we strike. It’s always the same.”

The other man crossed his arms. “Yeah, but we ain’t never robbed a bank before!”

Thomas placed his hands on his hips. “All the more reason to make sure we do this right. We only have one chance to pull this off, Mac. You understand that? One chance. Ain’t no way we can come back from this if we fail.”

Mac let out a sigh, still not convinced.

“It’s been two months, Thomas. How much longer are we gonna wait?”

Moreau leaned against a tree, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“And what happens if the law finds out we’re here? We gonna move camp again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what about Shaw? Has he made any progress with Farley?”

“I don’t--!” Thomas took a breath, calming himself down. “...I don’t know.”

Arthur jumped into the conversation before the two of them could argue any further and glanced over his shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

“Hey, uh... you boys alright?” He called out.

Thomas dismissed the question, evidently just wanting to walk away from this.

“We’re fine, Arthur,” he answered, his tone saying otherwise. “Just... a tad anxious about the upcoming robbery.”

Mac scoffed. “If it ever comes.”

That caused Moreau to snap somewhat. “Yeah, well, you got any better ideas, Callander? Maybe you think we should just run up to the bank and shoot our way through the front door? In broad daylight. Oh, and while we’re at it, we could say hello to Sheriff Farley on the way back to camp! Maybe stay at his place for a cup of tea.”

“You know what, Frenchy,” Mac fired back, “you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Why Hosea even bothers puttin’ up with your bullshit is beyond me. He shoulda left you in New Aubertin as far as I’m concerned.”

“My bullshit?” Thomas repeated. “If I recall correctly, it’s always me who’s cleanin’ up after you and Davey! Like that hell y’all raised back in Mercy when Hosea first found you.”

“Oh, you’re really gonna pull that one out now--”

“--Gentlemen!”

Bringing the dispute to an abrupt halt, a guttural voice suddenly cut Mac and Thomas off right before things started to get heated, causing everyone to fall silent as a third party joined the scene.

Sauntering in their direction, Dutch casually walked up to the pair of outlaws with an amused grin on his face as he took a long drag on his cigar, chuckling at their behavior.

“You know, gentlemen, while I do appreciate a good ol’ fashioned fight like no other man alive...” he breathed out a puff of smoke, “...I’d rather you saved the killin’ for Farley’s boys. We got enough of a storm comin’ our way as is.”

Thomas sighed wearily. “Sorry, Dutch. It’s just... folk are gettin’ restless. We been sittin’ on this bank robbery for two months now, and Shaw has yet to give us the all-clear. Some are worried that we’re never gonna pull this off.”

Dutch smiled, pointing with his cigar. “Now, listen to me son, if there’s anything you’re gonna learn from your time with me, it’s that losin’ faith never did no one any good. This robbery is going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon. In fact, I actually received a letter from Benjamin yesterday evening. He thinks we can make our move at any minute now..”

Mac’s expression lit up with a newfound interest. “What? Really? When?”

The other man didn’t promise anything just yet. “I don’t know, but I’m planning to pay him a visit in Harlow. We’ll speak to him face-to-face, and see when we can get things rolling.”

Arthur picked up on that. “We?”

Dutch turned to him. “Yes. I need you to come with me too, Arthur. Apparently, Ben’s got a job for you to do. He asked for you specifically.”

Well, it looked like Arthur wasn’t going to see Mary as soon as he thought. The young man concealed his disappointment. “...Alright, I guess.”

“Good. Then you and I will take a trip down to Harlow, see what Benjamin wants, and in the meantime...” Dutch brought his gaze to Thomas and Mac, “make sure the camp stays in one piece while we’re away, would you?”

Thomas nodded. “Things’ll be fine when you get back.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Dutch put out his cigar and headed for the horses, beckoning Arthur. “Come on, son. We got a job to do.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Arthur removed himself from the tree stump and followed Dutch at a brisk pace, sticking close-by while Thomas and Mac returned to their business.

It looked like the two of them had calmed down by now, and to finish things off, they exchanged some final words before parting ways for the afternoon.

“Hey...” Mac murmured apologetically, “sorry for, um... what I said back there. Y’know I didn’t mean it.”

Thomas let out a fatigued breath. “...Sure. I know.”

The hot-tempered outlaw threw in a quick offer. “...Wanna head down to the saloon later?”

Thomas repeated his answer, although a bit more relaxed this time. “Sure.”

Arthur grinned at the sight and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He supposed he and Marston weren’t the only ones who had a relationship like that.

There was no doubt that the little boy drove Arthur insane sometimes, but deep down, the young man knew he could never really hurt John. The kid was like a baby brother to him, after all. Dutch and Hosea pretty much raised them like siblings, and underneath all the havoc, Arthur couldn’t deny that he loved Marston.

He just wished he could get some alone time once in a while. Lord knew John loved getting attention.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt any plans you had,” Dutch suddenly remarked, bringing Arthur back to the task at hand. “I know I dragged you into this rather quickly.”

Arthur decided to be honest with him. “Well, I was gonna visit Mary, actually. She’s in the region right now, and wanted to see me before she left. But it’s like you said, we got a job to do first.”

Dutch approached Belle-Dame, unhitching her from the post. “Mary’s in Harlow?”

“Not Harlow,” he corrected. “On a farm outside of it. She’s stayin’ there with her father and grandparents.”

“Ah. Well, tell you what -- we’ll just have a short chat with Benjamin, hear what updates he’s got for us, and afterwards, you can go on and see Mary. Sound good?”

Arthur mounted Abitha, readying himself for the ride. “Sounds good.”

Dutch smiled at him, climbing on top of his own horse. “Thank you for bein’ patient with me, Arthur. I know this process has been long, but we are gonna do this. We just gotta push a little bit more, and soon, that bank’ll be ours to pillage. Now, c’mon. Harlow awaits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE GALLOWS, HARLOW

Falling with a sudden drop, the criminal collapsed beneath the gallows’ surface and dangled morbidly in the air, causing the noose’s rope to go taut while the crowd watched in both horror and fascination.

Harlow was normally a peaceful town, and even prided itself on having such a low crime rate, but recently, things had changed for the worse... and everyone could feel it.

No one knew exactly where this feeling came from or why it was appearing so suddenly, but for the past couple of months, a peculiar sense of dread loomed over the town like a dark cloud that just wouldn’t leave.

There were more thefts, more break-ins, more fights... and even more murders. The people of Harlow were either vanishing or dying one-by-one, and as a result, the entire town was on edge. Though, no one was quite as stressed as their beloved sheriff, Ronan Farley.

The man had the population of a small city depending on him. Harlow always looked to him for answers whenever things went wrong, and normally, he was able to provide.

With everything that was going on though, the sheriff was at a loss for words. Ronan truly had no idea why the town’s overall safety had deteriorated so quickly, and the possibilities of what could’ve been at the heart of all this made him shudder.

Farley had been dealing with outlaws for long enough to know that crimes like this didn’t just fall out of the sky. There was something bigger going on here. Something lurking in the shadows... but he couldn’t act on pure speculation alone.

If Ronan was going to get to the bottom of Harlow’s turbulent situation, he’d have to hope that the people responsible would expose themselves eventually. His hands were full enough as is, and without any proper evidence to conduct a thorough search, there was really nothing more he could do.

Farley’s hands were tied.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

SHERIFF’S OFFICE

“That’s the third execution this week...” Deputy Leighton said with a discouraged sigh, gazing out the window. “What is happening to this town?”

Ronan removed his hat and placed it down on the desk, offering some reassurance to his friend.

“Keep it together, Andrew,” he reminded the young lawman. “This ain’t the first time we’ve dealt with this.”

“True,” the deputy conceded, “but lately, it just feels like... the wind’s shifted in Harlow. Like our luck’s run out. There are more criminals hangin’ from the gallows than there are bounties on our wall, and this idea that we can’t do our job as lawmen anymore is startin’ to propagate.”

Andrew took a seat at the desk, leaning back in exhaustion. “...Everything’s just a mess.”

Andrew Leighton was the youngest out of the four deputies, and also happened to be the newest, apart from Deputy Shaw. He had only been working with Ronan for about six months, whereas Buchanan and Sommer had been at the sheriff’s side for a couple of years.

Andrew was twenty-one years old, and in contrast to his fellow lawmen, carried a slightly more gullible demeanor to him, often making him a target.

He wasn’t naive, necessarily. Andrew had seen more than his fair share of violence in the past, but he had also been blessed with the curse of wanting to believe the best in people. He tried to maintain the idea that no man was truly evil, and that good nature was reflected in his appearance.

Leighton had a clean-shaven face, a pair of kind blue eyes, and a head of short blond hair that he always kept in a neat style. He wore a slate-blue Classic Frock coat on top of a white shirt and black vest, and adorned a black Paragon Town hat to go with his boots.

Sheriff Farley, on the other hand, sported a much rougher temperament. The hardy man had loose and short brown hair, a full beard, and a noticeably wounded look in his eyes. He was only in his late-thirties, but had a few extra wrinkles creasing his face due to all the stress and lack of sleep.

Ronan’s usual attire consisted of a somewhat weathered Gaucho hat, a dark-brown duster coat, and a scarlet-red vest that he wore on top of an opened white shirt. His boots were nothing fancy and bore no sort of design, but they were sturdy enough... sort of like the people he worked so hard to protect.

Gazing blankly at the empty jail cells, Andrew decided to put professionalism aside for a moment and posed a more colloquial question to Ronan, hoping to get his honest opinion.

“Hey, sheriff...” he said, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Andrew softened his voice a bit, not wanting to announce their conversation to anyone in the vicinity.

“...What d’you think is really goin’ on in Harlow?”

Ronan paused at the vagueness of the question, not entirely sure what Andrew was getting at.

“What do you mean?”

The deputy took a second to clarify. “The deaths, the disappearances, the sudden lack in morale... Harlow’s had its rough patches, sure, but nothing quite like this. You think it’s all just a coincidence?”

The sheriff didn’t crack his shell just yet. “Coincidence or not, we’ll get through it.”

Andrew didn’t buy it. “...With all respect, Ronan, I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not that dense. I’m sure you out of all people can sense something’s wrong in Harlow. Something that... we might not be ready for.”

Ronan took a seat across from Leighton, hoping to relax for just a second.

“It ain’t our job to speculate, Andrew. When there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it. But we can’t go searchin’ for trouble when we don’t even know what to look for.”

“I know,” the deputy agreed, “it’s just... I hate this feeling, y’know? This feeling of sittin’ around, not being able to help the folk ‘round here. Everyone’s worried that we’ve got a rough road ahead of us, and they expect us to solve all their problems, but... we can’t even do anything without solid proof. I suppose I just wish I could do more.”

Ronan leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“You’ve got a good heart, Leighton, but we’re the last people this town needs to be gettin’ paranoid. Stay vigilant, and remember to use your head. If anything does happen to Harlow, it’s gonna need all of us to protect it.”

Andrew nodded in reassurance, deciding to drop the subject for now. “...You’re right, you’re right. I can’t go startin’ trouble when there might not even be any. I gotta keep my head on my shoulders. It’s just... it’s difficult when you don’t actually have a target to shoot at yet. But... you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

The deputy stood up from his seat and headed for the door, leaving Farley to his thoughts.

“...Anyway, thanks for listenin’ to me ramble, sheriff. I didn’t mean to put all that on you. You’re a rock for more people than you realize. I just hope I can repay you someday.”

Ronan’s expression remained flat, but it was still clear to Andrew that he appreciated the remark.

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.”

Opening the door with a firm pull, the deputy wasted no time in getting back to work and headed out into the open, only to stop in his tracks when he found someone blocking the doorway.

It was a woman. She was about ten years older than Andrew, and a head of black hair that had been tied into a loose bun.

The dress she was wearing appeared rather simple in terms of design, but it still carried an elegant shape regardless. The upper part was a soft shade of white, and the bottom had been dyed mahogany brown. As a way to top it all off though, the woman had also tied a yellow scarf around her neck, and let most of it hang off her back like a miniature cape.

The young deputy recognized her immediately upon seeing her, and gave her a brief greeting.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Farley.”

The woman smiled in response. “Hello, Mr. Leighton.”

Allowing Mrs. Farley to step in first, Andrew waited off to the side until she was in the office before finally making his way out, shutting the door closed behind him.

As for Ronan, the man got up from his desk almost as soon as he saw his wife and approached her, concerned about what she might be doing here.

“Annabelle? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly, sensing her husband’s uneasiness. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been home much lately.”

Annabelle glanced out the window, lowering her head in fear as a grim expression spread across her face.

“I... heard about the execution today. That’s the third one this week, isn’t it? Or is it the fourth?” She let out a sigh. “I can never keep up. The days seem to blur together now with all these hangings. Are you... doin’ okay, Ronan? All of this pressure can’t be easy on you.”

Ronan sat on the desk’s surface, sliding a hand down his face.

“I’ll be honest, Annabelle. I’m... I’m worried.”

Annabelle stepped in front of him and gently held his hand, rubbing it in a comforting manner.

“Worried? About what?”

The sheriff gestured to the door. “Well, Andrew was talkin’ about this just before you came in, but... he feels like Harlow’s luck has run out. As if our time as a safe hamlet is over. And I’m inclined to agree with him.”

That sparked Annabelle’s interest. “Really? Why? Has somethin’ happened?”

Ronan shook his head. “Nothing in particular, but it don’t take a genius to see that Elijah, Curtis, and Suzanna’s murders are connected. Accordin’ to the evidence we found, they were three separate cases with three different killers -- and we hanged all of ‘em -- but... something just doesn’t feel right. Even after all that chaos, it feels incomplete.”

Annabelle took on a more steadfast tone. “Well, what do you think is happening? Forget the evidence. Forget what people are saying. What does your gut tell you?”

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

“...I think there’s more goin’ on here than we can see. I think somethin’ big is coming our way. I dunno what, or how, or even when... but I believe the true killer is still out there. The murders just seemed too similar. Too easy to solve. It all felt contrived to me, and I believe Harlow won’t be safe so long as the real murderer is still roamin’ about. I believe it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

The woman furrowed her brows in anxiety, mindlessly tightening her grip.

“...You’re frightening me, Ronan.”

The man snapped out of his suspicions for the time being and put them aside, bringing a loving hand up to Annabelle’s face.

“I’m... I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to scare you. Things have just been tense around Harlow these past couple of months. I guess I needed to get that off my chest more than I realized. But don’t you worry. I’ll be home tonight. Before you go to bed.

Annabelle beamed at that, afterwards pecking a kiss on Ronan’s cheek. “Good. I miss you.”

The sheriff chuckled softly at that. “I miss you too.”

Mrs. Farley took a step back, still grinning from their conversation. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’m sure you have many things to attend to. Just... be careful, okay? Harlow needs you now more than ever. And so do I.”

Ronan nodded firmly. “I will. The same goes for you.”

“Of course.”

Annabelle wandered closer to the door, offering some last-minute advice to the troubled sheriff before she left.

“These are strange times, Ronan. The only way we’re gonna get through them is with each other. Don’t forget that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE BLUE BRONCO SALOON, HARLOW

Sitting on top of a barrel, Arthur avidly sketched in silence while Dutch slowly paced around in boredom as the two of them stayed patiently behind Harlow’s saloon, waiting for Benjamin to turn up.

It had been quite a long time ever since Arthur last saw Ben. The man visited their camp occasionally to keep Dutch updated on things, but Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he and Ben actually sat down together and just... talked.

He wondered what he looked like now. What he was doing. How he was getting on.

Sure, Ben wasn’t always the nicest man, or even the most righteous, but as strange as it sounded, that was one of the reasons why Arthur liked him. To him, it made Ben seem to more genuine.

He may not have always been the most eloquent with his words, and sometimes he straight-up tried to avoid people, but Arthur knew that deep down, Ben never worried about hiding behind some sort of pretense.

He said what he meant, and he meant what he said, so there was never any doubt whenever Benjamin expressed his thoughts. Ironically though, he was the one Dutch chose to act as somebody else.

Arthur didn’t know why Dutch thought he’d be the best person to work as a mole. Ben never struck him as somebody to go undercover like this, but despite Arthur’s concerns, Dutch seemed to have no skepticism surrounding Benjamin’s capabilities. According to him, he was the “perfect” man for the job.

Arthur just hoped everything would turn out okay. The gang had worked so hard and for so long to get this robbery done, that for something to go wrong now would’ve been a major setback.

The folks back at camp were nervous enough about robbing a bank for the first time, and Arthur didn’t even wanna think about the chaos that would ensue if their plan failed.

It was like Thomas said. They only had once chance to get this right, and there was no room for impulse. They needed to focus.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, cowboy?” Dutch asked, making Arthur pause mid-sketch.

“Drawing.” The boy answered simply.

His companion smirked. “Oh? Drawing what?”

Arthur shrugged. “...Things.”

“That so? What kinda things?”

The young man gestured aimlessly at their surroundings, admittedly somewhat shy to talk about it. “Y’know, stuff. That we see. Horses, people, trees.”

Dutch chortled humorously at that. “Oh, okay.”

Arthur sighed. “Look, it ain’t nothin’ fancy, alright? I just do it when I’m bored.”

The other man’s grin only grew wider at his annoyance. “Well, please, don’t let me disturb you. Carry on with drawing your... ‘things.”

The young outlaw mentally groaned to himself, returning to his work.

Just before he could start sketching again however, a third person walked into the scene, causing both of them to divert their attention.

“Gentlemen.” Benjamin Shaw greeted flatly, strolling in their direction.

Benjamin was a scraggly-looking man with sunken cheeks due to his growing addiction to alcohol, and displayed a collection of small scars on his face, the most prominent one being a thin, horizontal gash that sat just above his left brow.

As for his hair, it was chocolate-colored and reached long enough to touch his shoulders. In terms of style though, the strands were rather tangled and messy, and his facial hair wasn’t anymore tame.

Benjamin had nothing more than a prickly layer of scruff sticking to his jawline, but there was a slim gap in his mustache from another scar that sliced downwards across his mouth.

On the topic of clothes though -- at the moment, Benjamin was wearing a black Collar Overshirt with a hickory-colored leather jacket that made his badge stand out like a beacon in the night, and he adorned a dark pair of trousers as well as some Sleeked Riding boots to match the Stalker hat that he always wore.

Overall, he looked pretty much the same compared to when Arthur last saw him, and that made the young man happy.

“There you are!” Dutch replied excitedly. “How the hell are you, my boy?”

Benjamin didn’t appear to return the enthusiasm. If anything, he looked exhausted.

“I feel like shit and I look like shit, but I got some information you might be interested in, Dutch. Though, it ain’t all good news, I’m afraid.”

Dutch’s expression dimmed instantly at the news. “Straight to the point, I see. Very well, then. What is it?”

Benjamin lowered his voice. “Well, the good news is I think we’ll be able to hit the bank soon. Ronan and his deputies trust me. It took some convincing, believe me, but they finally see me as one of their own.”

“Extremely well done, Ben. I knew you was the right feller for this job. When do you think we’ll be able to rob the bank?”

The “deputy” thought for a minute. “Give me... one more week. I’ll be able to get things rollin’ by then.”

Dutch switched to a more serious tone. “Just one more week? Are you certain? We don’t wanna rush this.”

Benjamin insisted. “I’m certain. I’ve got the whole town on edge with a string of recent crimes, and tensions are startin’ to build. Now is the time to do this. If we wait too long, this may not work.”

The other man nodded in understanding. “Okay, then. I trust your judgement. One more week and then we’ll finally hit this goddamn bank. I’ll let the people back at camp know. Now... what’s the bad news?”

Shaw leaned in a bit more, making sure that no one else could hear them.

“I did some investigatin’ into Sheriff Farley, and it turns out, that ain’t even the man’s real name.”

“What?” Dutch questioned, taken aback. “Then what the hell is it?”

Benjamin was quiet for a second, almost like he was worried to see his friend’s reaction.

“O’Driscoll.”

Arthur’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re shittin’ me. The sheriff of this town is an O’Driscoll?”

“Not just any O’Driscoll,” Ben clarified. “He’s Colm’s older brother.”

Dutch’s face scrunched into a glower. “How d’you know this?”

“I overheard Ronan and his wife talkin’ about it,” Benjamin explained. “Apparently, he changed his name to ‘Farley’ many years ago ‘cause he didn’t wanna be associated with the O’Driscolls no more. Sounds to me like he and Colm didn’t get along.”

“So, he’s not working with the gang?” Arthur asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Ronan’s got a strong hatred for outlaws. I highly doubt he’d ever work with them.”

“Still,” Dutch added, “it’s something to think about. When we first arrived at New Aubertin, Thomas told me there had been rumors of the O’Driscolls being in this region. If Colm’s got any affection left for his brother, and he finds out what we’re doing -- we need to be extra careful from here on out.”

“Agreed.”

“Well,” Dutch said, heading back to his horse, “I’m gonna return to camp. Let ‘em know about the plan. In the meantime, Arthur will help you out with that job you mentioned. Stay safe, you two. And keep a low profile. We’re this close to robbin’ that bank. We ain’t botching it now.”

Taking his leave, Dutch removed himself from the saloon’s vicinity and rode back to camp like a bat out of hell, eager to deliver the good news to the gang as the sun steadily began to set.

Meanwhile, Arthur stayed behind with Benjamin and simply remained seated on his barrel while the other man found a comfortable spot next to him, leaning against the saloon’s wall in a casual manner.

“So...” Arthur began, “what was that job you had for me?”

Ben took off his hat, wiping some of the sweat off his forehead. “There was no job.”

The young man raised a brow. “What? So why’d you ask Dutch to bring me here?”

“Because you’re one of the few people I like to talk to, and I need a break from this mess.” Benjamin quickly lit a cigarette, offering one to Arthur. “Anyway... how’ve you been? Things goin’ good at camp?”

Arthur took the cigarette and waited for Ben to light it, continuing the conversation. “As good as they can be. I’m plannin’ to visit Mary later. Apparently, she’s in the region.”

The other man’s face sagged with obvious disapproval. “Ms. Gillis is here?”

“Yes. You mean to tell me you still don’t like her?”

Benjamin put out the match. “It ain’t that simple, Arthur. Mary’s a sweet girl -- I ain’t suggestin’ otherwise. I just don’t know how serious she is about marrying you.”

Arthur couldn’t deny that he struck a nerve. “What do you mean by that? She said yes, didn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but how long before that dusty, old shithead father of hers gets in the way? You really think he'll have no influence on Mary? He’s already tryin’ to put your head on a pike as it is.”

The young man let out a cloud of smoke. “Mary loves me, Ben. And I love her. Nothing’s separatin’ us. Besides, what her father does ain’t her fault. I really don’t understand why you and Grimshaw dislike her so much. ”

Benjamin sighed in defeat. “We’re just lookin’ out for you, Arthur. You’re a good man. Much better than a lot of us. We don’t wanna see you get hurt. But... if you trust her, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I did too. Just don’t expect me to weclome her with open arms anytime soon.”

Arthur picked up on Benjamin’s agitated tone, suddenly worried about his friend’s well-being. This wasn’t just about Mary... was it?

“Hey...” he said, speaking more softly, “r’you good, Ben? I mean, you’ve always been an angry bastard, but you seem especially irritated today. What’s goin’ on?”

Thinking to himself for a moment, the deputy remained quiet and ignored Arthur’s question as he thought about what to say next, clearly conflicted about something.

It was unusual for Ben to be so reserved. He wasn’t a social butterfly by any means, but... even then, this sort of behavior was odd for him. Normally, he’d crack a joke or two -- maybe throw in a hint of sarcasm here and there, but today, he was completely serious.

It made Arthur suspect that this whole job was having more of a toll on Benjamin than anyone in the gang truly understood. Dutch did kind of force him into this, after all, and Arthur really had no idea what sort of experiences Ben was going through in order to get the gang where they were now.

Arthur just hoped that Ben wasn’t angry with him personally. It was no secret that Dutch favored the young man over anyone else in the gang, and part of Arthur couldn’t help but feel as if that was what got him out of doing this job, despite the fact that Hosea originally planned to send him or Thomas.

Just what was going on?

“...Y’know what, Arthur,” Benjamin finally said, sounding far more drained than before, “I won’t lie to you. These past two months with Ronan and his men... they’ve opened my eyes to some things. Things that... that make me question everything I’ve done in my life.”

Arthur turned to face him. “What d’you mean?”

Shaw looked at him with a guilt-ridden gaze, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“...I’ve done some terrible stuff throughout the years, Arthur. Stuff that even you don’t know about. I’ve hurt people like it was nothing, killed others for the sake of money, and even turned my back on a few folks who loved me just like you and Dutch do. But... after workin’ with Farley, I’m not sure that’s the man I wanna be anymore.”

Arthur quirked a brow at the statement. “Wait, are you sayin’ you wanna become a lawman for real?”

“Not a lawman,” Ben corrected, “but I dunno if I’m gonna be returning to the gang after this robbery. I’m thinkin’ of maybe going my own way. Starting a different life with the money we take, while I still have the chance. I’m... I’m sorry, Arthur. I probably should’ve said something sooner.”

The young man protested. “You can’t leave, Ben. We need you in this gang. Not only are you one of the best people we’ve had, you’re also my friend. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Benjamin flipped the subject to him. “And what about you? You’re gonna be a husband soon, Arthur. Possibly even be a father someday. You can’t stay in this life forever. It’s gotta be left behind eventually if you wanna be there for your family.”

Arthur felt admittedly somewhat cornered by the response.

“I-I know. And I’ll leave it behind when the time comes, but I still owe it to Dutch to stick with him throughout this whole thing. He saved my life. Yours, too. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Yeah, but my life wasn’t worth savin’ when he first found me. I wanna make sure that it is before I go.”

Somewhat overwhelmed by Benjamin’s sudden confession, Arthur gave the man nothing but a concerned gaze in response and simply sat there with a cigarette in his hand, watching the smoke dance from its tip as it slowly burned away.

Meanwhile, Benjamin threw his to the ground and swiftly stubbed it out with his boot, marking the end of their conversation.

“Do me a favor, Arthur,” he said before returning to his work. “Don’t become the same man I was. When the time comes, make sure you do what’s right.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to take that advice. “It ain’t always that easy, Ben.”

“I never said it would be easy,” he countered. “In fact, it’s probably gonna be a goddamned nightmare before any of this blows over... but it’ll be worth it. So long as you do the right thing. Remember that.”

With that being said, Benjamin walked off into the busier parts of town just as more people started pouring out of the different establishments around Harlow, ready to go back home for the evening.

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder, saying one last goodbye.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur. Lord only knows what the future holds.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story #rdr2 prequel #rdr2 oc

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gb-fics · 4 years

Text

1st Advent

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: This is the first part of an Advent calendar fanfic. There will be a new chapter up every Sunday until Christmas. I hope you enjoy! (^-^)

Shou was staring at the entrance door angrily.

His date was running late. By 15 minutes now. Shou had ordered a coffee. Once he finished, he was going to leave.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place. But when his friend had told him he knew someone who knew someone who had a friend who would be just perfect for Shou, he had given in. Because Shou had a hard time meeting someone, he had been ready to cling to even the last straw. Moreover, the fact that he was supposed to meet with a man had made him curious. Shou was even worse at meeting men than he was at meeting women. Maybe, just maybe, it could be fun, he had thought.

By now he was just angry at himself for getting his hopes up. He was angry at himself for putting on nice clothes and being desperate enough to let himself be set up for a stupid blind date. He was angry at his date for running late. He was angry at his friend for suggesting a place like this café that was too fancy with the tinted windows, the black leather seats and the waiters in the black button-downs. He was angry that the entire plan was so tacky – his date was supposed to bring a rose so Shou would recognize him. A rose, for fuck’s sake. Shou didn’t even especially like flowers.

And most of all he was angry that even now he didn’t dare to put down the sunglasses he wore, although the lights in here were incredible dim and he was hardly able to see what was going on behind the counter, although he had chosen the corner seat right next to it – farthest away from the entrance. Because even now he thought that his date might still show up and Shou didn’t want to make a bad impression. He cared enough to not want to scare the guy off with his bare face immediately. Although it was a guy who made him wait beyond time and someone who was cheesy enough to bring a rose. Shou should have more dignity than that, but he didn’t. He really, really wanted to date someone. Christmas, especially, was a lonely time of year.

The entrance door swung open.

Shou shifted in his seat to get a good look at the person entering. It was a guy alright, but something about him was off. Even in the heavy winter coat, his posture looked familiar somehow. He strolled into the café like he was ready to pick a fight with anyone – the furniture, if necessary.

Instinctively, Shou sunk deeper into his seat, so he wouldn’t spot him. What the hell was Kyan Yutaka doing at a place like this? The café seemed too fancy for Shou, but it definitely seemed too fancy for Yutaka.

Without paying attention to anyone, Yutaka walked over to the counter, where the coffee was brewed and started talking to the waiter. He was using his hands a lot while he did. The waiter laughed. Shou could not understand what they were talking about, but he heard the laughter clearly. It pissed him off even more, if possible.

Of course, Yutaka got along with the waiter as soon as he entered the room. Of course, he made strangers laugh as easily as that. He would never sit around sulking like Shou did now. Yutaka would never wait for a date that wasn’t on time. Because for him, it wasn’t difficult to meet someone. He got along with people so well - they were practically waiting in line to date him. Sometimes, Shou hated him for that. He wished life would be as easy for him as it was for Yutaka.

He watched on as the waiter now handed over a pen to Yutaka and he leaned forward to scribble something down. Probably his phone number or something, so he could stay in touch with his new best friend. He hadn’t even taken his jacket off yet and had already been more social than Shou in the last 15 minutes sitting here.

He really wondered what Yutaka was doing here, though. He didn’t live around this area. But then, this café seemed like the kind of place that was frequented by people who had too much money and liked to feel extra while drinking a simple cup of coffee that costed them a fortune. Maybe, someone from the industry had recommended the café to Yutaka. He had a lot of friends in the scene, after all.

Now, Yutaka finally turned around. In front of himself he held up a white napkin.

It had the drawing of a rose on it.

It wasn’t a very good drawing, completely without colour, but Shou still figured out what it meant. It meant someone had fucked up things quite badly.

He sunk even deeper into his seat, lifting his hand to cover the lower half of his face that wasn’t hidden by the sunglasses already.

How had this misunderstanding been possible? Sure, this a friend’s-friend’s-friend-thing never worked out, but Yutaka and him were in the same band. Someone should have known.

If he was lucky, Yutaka would not notice him, assume his date had already left, because he had been late and leave as well. Shou would never mention this incident to anyone and it could be completely forgotten. It didn’t have to get awkward. No one had to know.

Yutaka looked around the room, spotted Shou and walked directly towards him.

For a moment, Shou considered just ducking under the table, but now that Yutaka had already seen him, it would only look suspicious. He raised his hand in an awkward greeting.

“Shou”, Yutaka said.

He was grinning lightly.

“Yutaka”, Shou said. “It’s surprising to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Nice try”, Yutaka said. “I’m here as your date, but I guess that is cancelled now.”

Still holding the napkin in his hand, he unzipped his jacket.

“Why are you carrying that?”, Shou asked and pointed towards the napkin.

Yutaka put it onto the smooth black surface of the table between them and grinned even wider.

“Ah, you see, I ran out of time to buy an actual rose, so I made a drawing instead.”

Shou furrowed his brow. That was so typical for Yutaka, he almost wanted to scream. If he had been a stranger and this had been an actual date, Shou would have hated him for not being on time and then pulling off this. Or he would have found it charming. Somehow, most people seemed to find Yutaka charming.

“No, I mean, why a rose in the first place?”, Shou continued playing dumb.

He figured that if he was just stubborn enough, he could convince Yutaka he was not here, because he had been desperate enough to agree to a blind date. A date, that moreover turned out to be such a disappointment right at the beginning.

“You know very well”, Yutaka said still cheerfully and put his jacket onto the seat next to himself, before sitting down opposite to Shou with his back towards the entrance door. “You are the only single, male musician at this place, so I figure you were supposed to be my date. That elderly lady over there by the window sure isn’t, and neither is the lovey-dovey couple. So, quit acting clueless.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”, Shou insisted. “I just came here to drink a coffee. If you were supposed to date a guy here, maybe he already left, because you were running late.”

“Nah, I’m on time”, Yutaka said and looked at his wrist. He was not wearing a watch. “We were supposed to meet at 3:15 pm.”

“It was 3 pm”, Shou said and crossed the arms in front of his chest.

Yutaka threw back his head and laughed.

“See?”, he said. “Got you.”

“I really don’t know how they messed it up like that”, Shou huffed. “It should be obvious we know each other.”

Yutaka was still smiling. Shou found it a little unsettling, that he didn’t seem to be bothered by the situation at all. Shou himself didn’t feel exactly bothered that he wasn’t going to have a date now. He rather felt embarrassed, although he could not really explain why. Yutaka was in the same position as him. He had also been out on a blind date. With another man. He didn’t seem embarrassed about it at all, though.

“Stuff like that happens”, Yutaka said with a slight shrug. “Too many people involved. They probably wanted to keep our names out of it, and that’s the result.”

The waiter appeared next to them, placing the coffee Shou had ordered earlier in front of him.

“Thank you”, Shou mumbled.

Yutaka raised his eyebrows at him.

“You were late”, Shou defended himself.

“Anything for you?”, the waiter asked.

“What would you recommend?”, Yutaka asked with the brightest smile.

“The cappuccino is great”, the waiter said.

“A cappuccino then”, Yutaka confirmed. “And does it come with one of those small cookies? Because I love those.”

The waiter chuckled.

Shou glared at him.

“I’ll get it for you immediately”, the waiter promised and left.

Instead of glaring at him, Shou now glared at Yutaka.

“Do you have to flirt with the waiter?”, he asked.

“I didn’t flirt”, Yutaka said. “I was being friendly. You should try that sometime, too.”

“I said thank you, when he gave me the coffee!”, Shou defended himself.

Yutaka shook his head. He was smirking.

“You are polite. It’s not the same as being friendly”, he lectured.

“Oh, shut up”, Shou mumbled and ripped open the condensed milk to pour it into his coffee. He watched the colour change to a light caramel. The sugar he left untouched.

“Also, you should take off the sunglasses, you look like a fool”, Yutaka said. “It’s fucking dark in here. Can you even see me? What do you think you are? A Rockstar?”

“I am a Rockstar”, Shou said, but took off the sunglasses anyway.

There was no point in hiding his face. Yutaka knew what he looked like without makeup after all.

“Barely so”, Yutaka said.

Shou folded the sunglasses and put them aside.

“It’s still so dark in here. What’s up with the light in this place? Why would anyone recommend it even?”, he sighed.

“You took off the sunglasses already?”, Yutaka asked and reached across the table to shove his hand right into Shou’s face. His fingers felt cold from walking outside. “It’s too dark, I can’t see from here.”

Chuckling Shou pushed his hand aside. Yutaka was close to poking his eye.

“I guess when they suggested this place, they misunderstood the meaning of the expression Blind Date”, Shou joked.

Yutaka snorted half-heartedly at the bad joke.

“Or maybe they thought we were more likely to hook up, if I couldn’t see your face.”

“Ha ha”, Shou said dryly.

“Here you go”, the waiter interrupted them suddenly, placing a cup in front of Yutaka.

Shou noted that he had waited for his coffee way longer than Yutaka.

“Looks perfect”, Yutaka said.

Shou huffed after the waiter as he left.

“See, what friendliness can cause?”, Yutaka asked.

He had two cookies on his saucer.

“I just hate you so much sometimes”, Shou said and took a sip from his own coffee. It was strong and bitter in spite of the added milk.

There was a moment of silence in which Yutaka ate the first cookie.

Shou shuffled on his seat awkwardly. He felt highly uncomfortable. Not because this had originally been meant as a date. Not because he minded spending time with Yutaka – they were friends after all. The reason why Shou felt uncomfortable and embarrassed was that neither of them had known.

Yutaka took a sip of his cappuccino and placed the cup back onto the saucer. It caused a loud clinging noise.

“So, you are gay”, he finally said. “That explains why you are so bad at dating women.”

Shou swallowed. His throat felt too tight and too dry.

“Bi”, he said.

“Oh”, Yutaka said quietly and took another sip from his cup.

Some of the milk foam remained sticking to his upper lip and he licked. The whole process took him so long, the silence seemed to stretch out between them endlessly.

“So, you are bad at dating women and men”, he concluded.

“Oi!”, Shou said, but couldn’t deny he had a point.

He was bad both at dating women and men.

“What about you?”, he shot back, trying to move the focus away from himself. “You never mentioned liking guys.”

Yutaka stared at him blankly. The complete lack of any expression unsettled Shou extremely. He had no idea what Yutaka was thinking.

“I introduced you to several of my boyfriends, you are aware of that, right?”, he finally assured.

Shou swallowed again. His throat still felt dry.

He took another big gulp from his coffee. It didn’t help. It still tasted too bitter.

Of course, Yutaka had introduced him to a few men he had been close with for a while, who used to hang around their office a lot for some reason and after a few weeks disappeared without further explanation.

“I thought you were just close friends”, Shou said lamely.

Out loud, the words sounded even more stupid than they had in his head.

“Are you sure you are bisexual?”, Yutaka assured. “Because it sounds like you are actually too stupid to be.”

Shou crossed the arms in front of his chest. Lowered them. Crossed them again. He really didn’t know what to do with his arms.

Maybe a part of him had known. Maybe he had ignored it. Because if he acknowledged those guys as Yutaka’s boyfriends, he might – just might – have felt a tiny pang of jealousy. And if he felt that, he would need to wonder why that was. And then he would have to get in touch with his own feelings, and he didn’t have the time for that, nor the energy. He didn’t want things to get complicated. He wanted to get his work done.

“You could have been more direct about it”, Shou said sulkily.

“I thought you knew. You know I dated one of our staff members once, right? You told me to stop hanging out with him and I assumed you thought it would be unprofessional. I assumed you knew.”

Shou shrugged defensively.

He remembered that guy. He remembered Yutaka joking away their coffee breaks with him. He remembered feeling jealous.

“I didn’t like his face, that’s all”, he said shortly.

Yutaka shook his head once more.

Shou lowered his arms again and put his hands onto the table. His coffee was growing cold by now.

“You should pay more attention to the people around you”, Yutaka said. “You are ignorant. You only focus on work.”

“You didn’t notice anything either”, Shou went for an attack himself.

“Well, I had my assumptions”, Yutaka said. “But I thought I was wrong. You didn’t say anything, although there were plenty of opportunities to come out to me.”

Yutaka wasn’t raising his voice, but Shou still had the feeling they were fighting.

“Like when? When would have been a good time to tell you?”, Shou asked aggressively, although he was also keeping his voice down.

“Oh, I don’t know”, Yutaka said. “When I introduced you to my boyfriends for example. That would have been a good time to tell me.”

Shou snorted angrily.

“Do the others know? About you?”, he asked.

He didn’t have to explain his question any further.

Yutaka rolled his eyes. The only indication that he was seriously annoyed was the smile that had faded from his face. He didn’t frown, but he wasn’t looking exactly cheerful either. Shou thought that he had never seen Yutaka this angry before.

“Of course, they know”, he said. “Jun and Kenji are not idiots. They listen to me when I tell them something.”

“But they are not …?”

Shou made a vague gesture with his hand. He was suddenly very insecure about how much he really knew about his bandmembers. Maybe he should have been paying a little more attention. Over the years, he had been very busy to look into the other direction and keep away from any emotional involvement. He had not wanted to be distracted from work by anything.

“God no”, Yutaka sighed. “You really have no clue what’s going on around you.”

To keep his hands busy, Shou reached for the napkin still lying on the table. He twisted it in his hands, tearing the paper apart easily.

“So, you never …?” He broke off again. “You and Kenji spend a lot of time together.”

The smile found its way back onto Yutaka’s face.

“Kenji is not my type”, he said.

Shou sighed deeply.

He kept ripping off small pieces of the napkin. The white bits on the black table surface looked like he was trying to make it snow.

“Honestly? I think Kenji is everyone’s type, somehow. Even if he is not your type, you still can’t help appreciating.”

Yutaka laughed quietly. It was a surprised laugh; one that had not been intended to break through.

“I get what you mean”, he admitted, now eyeing Shou with sudden interest. “But I’m really not into tall, handsome, muscular men.”

Shou snorted.

“Who is, right?”, he asked. “I mean, tall, handsome, muscular. Eww.”

Yutaka chuckled again.

“I like it better when a guy is my height”, he said. “And somewhat, you know, helpless. I guess that’s why they thought you might be my type.”

“I’m not helpless”, Shou said.

He was surprised how harsh his voice sounded. His hands were still tearing up the napkin. He wasn’t sure if he was protesting against being helpless, or rather against possibly being Yutaka’s type.

“You are not”, Yutaka confirmed.

Shou felt relieved. And also, a little offended.

“But I get why people would think that”, Yutaka carried on. “You always seem lost. Like you could need guidance.”

“I don’t need guidance, either”, Shou said.

“I know”, Yutaka said seriously. “It’s me, who would always follow your lead, isn’t it?”

Shou looked up in surprise and shrugged.

Yutaka was speaking gently now and he didn’t know what to do with it. He felt like maybe he needed to clarify things between them, that it would never, ever happen, whatever Yutaka was thinking about right now. But then, pointing it out would be stupid, because Shou wasn’t vain enough to believe for even a second that was really what Yutaka was thinking of. He probably just wanted to be nice.

“Could you please stop that?”, Yutaka finally said and reached out to cup Shou’s hand.

He hadn’t realized his hands were still busy with tearing up the napkin. The table looked like a complete mess already. Yutaka’s hand was warm by now.

“You are making me anxious”, Yutaka finished.

Shou had never thought there was anything in the world that could possibly make Kyan Yutaka feel anxious.

Yutaka pulled back his hand.

The sudden touch had surprised Shou, but it hadn’t felt all that bad. It had felt natural, most of all. Not like a date who suddenly touched your hand and caused your heartbeat to quicken. It had felt like the touch of a friend who had touched him a million times already without ever thinking about it. Weirdly enough, it made Shou feel calmer instantly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, he said and pushed the remains of the napkin together to form a small pile.

For a moment, Shou just stared at it.

“Can I ask you something? Why did you come here today? To this date?”

He had been wondering about it since Yutaka had approached him. He surely didn’t need to rely on his friends to get a date.

Yutaka shrugged.

“I like dating. It’s fun. And when my friend told me they knew someone who would be just my type, I thought it might be fun, too. Why not give it a try? But what about you? I never thought you’d be the kind of person to agree to this. Too much social anxiety to go on a date with a stranger or whatever.”

Shou drummed a short rhythm on the table plate with his fingers.

“I have a hard time finding someone who’d date me”, he pressed out. “Especially men. I don’t know how to approach them. I thought …”

He broke off. He didn’t want to admit to what he had thought. It was pathetic.

“I know, it’s not easy to find someone with the same preferences. Especially, when you want the information to stay private”, Yutaka confirmed.

Then he laughed as if a funny thought had just hit him.

“I could forward you to some of my ex-boyfriends, though, if you’d like.”

Shou winced.

“Please, no”, he said. “I hated all of them.”

“I thought you didn’t pay attention to them”, Yutaka observed.

Shou smiled apologetic instead of answering.

Yutaka smirked, but he tried not to let it show.

“I really wonder why your friends tried to set you up with me, though”, Shou said, just to say anything at all. “What made them think we would be a match?”

“Really?”, Yutaka assured and raised his eyebrows. “I think they were quite right about that choice. We are friends for a reason after all. We like the same stuff. We have the same sense of humour. If we really had met for the first time today, I’m sure we would have hit it off.”

Shou shifted his body, suddenly feeling uncomfortable again. He hadn’t even realized he had begun to relax, but now he was all tense again.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility of what could have been between him and Yutaka. Or what could be. He didn’t want complicated feelings and having to waste his time … thinking about stuff. He wanted it to stay just like it had always been. Yutaka completely out of reach and Shou ignoring his feelings. It had worked out nicely so far. Hadn’t it?

“I guess”, he admitted shyly. “But we are bandmembers. They should really have been aware of that.”

“Yes”, Yutaka agreed. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you will find someone.”

“Yeah”, Shou said vaguely and rubbed his face absent-mindedly.

Then he took up his cup of coffee and emptied it with large gulps. It was almost cold already and tasted awful.

He put the cup back onto the saucer.

“So, we are good?”, he confirmed finally. “Nothing between us has changed?”

“Of course not, idiot”, Yutaka said.

Shou nodded with relief.

He wanted everything between them to stay exactly like it had been before. He would not look at Yutaka differently now, just because he knew that technically – just technically – it was possible for them to be more than friends. And surely, Yutaka wouldn’t view him any different, either. Their relationship had not changed at all, just because it suddenly had another option to it.

“Okay, because dating is clearly not an option”, Shou clarified, talking over his own thoughts.

“I agree”, Yutaka said and pushed his empty cup towards the middle of the table to signal he was ready to go as well. “Nothing will change.”

Then he paused his motion as if a thought had hit him suddenly and stopped him short. His hand was still touching the cup.

“But if you ever need to talk, you know”, Yutaka said hesitantly. “I mean, you didn’t tell any of us. But you can. We are your friends.”

Shou swallowed. Suddenly, his stomach felt very funny.

“You don’t mean to tell the others, do you?”, he assured.

Yutaka finally pulled back his hand, resting it in his lap instead. He looked confused.

“You don’t want Jun and Kenji to know?”, he made sure. “They are good guys, you know? They don’t care whom you have sex with. Or – in your case – what kind of porn you watch.”

“Oi!”, Shou said and kicked out under the table. He hit the leg of Yutaka’s seat, watching him jolt a little. “I’m just embarrassed, that’s all.”

Yutaka raised his eyebrows at him. He wore his teasing expression, not the pitying one. The atmosphere felt somewhat lighter already.

“Embarrassed for liking guys?”, he asked.

“Embarrassed for having ended up on a date with an idiot like yourself”, Shou corrected.

Yutaka chuckled. Shou expected him to deliver a smooth comeback, but he didn’t. Instead he got up and smiled.

“We’ll keep it between us”, he promised and grabbed for his coat. “Everything will stay the same.”

Then he put on the coat, but he did not walk away from the table first and moved too much in general. One of the sleeves brushed across the table surface, destroying Shou’s heap of napkin pieces. The white paper remains tumbled all over the table and fell off at the sides.

“Everything will stay the same”, Shou repeated under his breath to assure himself that it was true.

He glanced at the area around them that now looked like the first Christmas snow had fallen already. It looked like a mess.

#to be continued #Golden Bomber #Kiryuuin Shou #Kyan Yutaka #kirikyan #fanfiction #fanfic

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qwertythepopstarian08 · 5 years

Text

JSAB Steampunk AU Fanfic- That’s Not Your Brother

A gift fic for @just-steams-and-shapes .

Both of the muns of that blog pretty much shattered my heart with angst, so I decided to return the favor.

Also, Happy Fresh Friday!

((Once again, I must say that Feeling Blue is on temporary hiatus. I know how I want the story to end, and I WILL FINISH EVENTUALLY, but at the moment, I have no motivation to continue the story... sorry for the wait.))

Description: Belle comes home to find a Deceora in place of her brother. However, it doesn’t want to hurt her, and it seems oddly familiar...

Warnings for SLIGHT BODY HORROR and canon-typical violence.

Luce’s arm hurt.

It’d been aching all day, from his elbow to his wrist, ever since that accursed Deceora sunk its fangs into him the night before. It’d managed to get in through the window, out for blood and indiscriminately raiding houses. Judging by the amount of carnage done to the foliage outside, it’d run amok for awhile, although no other shapes had been harmed, at least not as much as him.

It’d managed to tear into his arm with its fangs before he managed to subdue it. A few swipes and a devastating bite to the wrist left him reeling, and even now, hours later and running on painkillers, he was feeling the effects.

He’d tried bandaging it, but eventually, the adhesives had just caused more irritation, and the wound needed to breathe, lest it get infected. So the most damaged areas were in full view, looking like shattered glass sticking out of his arm, an obvious allure for a nosy older sister.

He hissed under his breath as Belle prodded at his forearm, looking up to see her sticking her tongue out. She had her lucky wrench in hand, and her outfit was stained with motor oil. She’d dragged herself away from her work to mess with him. How sweet.

“That’s gonna leave a gnarly scar, bro.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face, her purple eyes narrowing. “Next time, just call me for help… facin’ a Deceora’s no walk in the park…”

Luce recoiled, drawing his arm back as his sister reached to poke at it again. His horns lowered, the heart rate monitor in place of his eye starting to quicken in pace, showing his annoyance.

“I shattered it, didn’t I?” He reached for a pen, hoping that he could at least distract himself by drawing up some blueprints; he was thinking of weapons, feeling quite destructive at the moment. “Having an arm cannon comes in handy…” He scowled when he heard Belle chuckle, adding as an afterthought, “No pun intended.”

Belle shot back, “Whatever you say, dork.”

All she got in response was a flustered grumble. Luce’s voice sounded a bit shriller than usual, but Belle amounted that to his irritation, not to mention the pain he was in.

The purple cyclops rolled her eye, one of her cybernetic arms reaching up to brush her hair out of her face again. It was quite messy, and a plain ponytail wasn’t cutting it anymore… she didn’t care much about fashion, but as an inventor who worked around gears and moving parts, she couldn’t afford to risk getting her hair caught.

“Y’know what… I think I’ll go out to town… buy some hair products.” She ran a hand through the purple locks, huffing. “Something’s gotta tame the beast.”

She stood, folding her main pair of arms. Luce didn’t look up at her, his heart monitor slowing to a steady, calm beat as he fell back into focus with his work. A twinge of annoyance hit Belle’s core, but it was quickly encompassed as she watched her brother sketch, a small part of herself marvelling at his intuitive ability.

He was only twelve, nearing thirteen in the coming months. It was a wonder that a kid his age knew how to competently work some of the machinery he lived around, let alone create blueprints for it.

He had to learn quickly, though… without parents to properly teach him, the two of them had picked up quite a few skills just to survive...

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, Belle started towards the door, momentarily pausing to run through her list of errands. She glanced over her shoulder, looking over Luce, who was too absorbed in his sketching to pay her much mind.

For once, her schedule was clear, aside from her personal quest. She’d be home soon, and she doubted Luce could get himself into any trouble like this… the likelihood of a second Deceora attack was slim, anyway.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Luce,” she called. She added with a chuckle, “Don’t get yourself shattered.”

He waved halfheartedly, one of his horns flicking up in acknowledgement. He really seemed to be absorbed in his work. Rolling her eye once more, Belle departed, trusting that her brother would be safe…

~~~

As the minutes passed, Luce found it progressively harder to focus. The once minor stinging in his arm had developed into shooting, burning pain, which pulsed with his heartbeat, as if his veins were pumping acid instead of blood.

He forced himself to ignore it, at least for a while. He was being productive this way, having churned out five whole blueprints in the hour. They were a bit messy, given the pain in his arm, but he was proud of himself, having finally found a way to effectively distract himself.

However, as the time ticked past, the minutes rolling into hours… the pain had become pure agony, and he finally tore his eyes away from the paper to glance at his arm.

He was willing to bet that it’d started bleeding again, given how high his blood pressure was. His nerves were shot, and as his gaze darted from the blueprints to his forearm, he jolted in shock, catching a flash of greenish blue among the pink flesh.

“What… in Paradise?” He turned his arm around slowly, trying to see if the blighted color was a trick of the light. However, instead of going away, the hue only seemed to spread, forming in rough patches around the wounds. “What.”

Luce’s eyes glistened with a confused light, his horns drooping slightly as he stood, dropping his pencil.

“Where’s the mirror?” He paced almost aimlessly, beginning to feel a deep, paranoid fear. “Where’s the Treeangle-blighted mirror?!”

The lagoon tint had begun to infect more of his arm, spreading like a rash up to his shoulder. It burned, and Luce found himself scratching at the afflicted areas, becoming increasingly irritated as his mind buzzed with frantic thoughts.

His claws felt sharper than normal. He was unsteady on his feet… These seemingly minor realizations drilled themselves into his head, and he was unsure when he started to hyperventilate, his balance becoming skewed.

Luce staggered around the house, his mind reeling, each step sending a shockwave of pain through his form. He was terrified to look, but he had to see what was happening to him. He nearly tripped, locating a sizable mirror as he limped into the bathroom, looking himself over in the reflective glass.

His eyes widened, his heart rate nearly flatlining as he forced himself to stifle a shriek.

“Shards…” He hissed under his breath. His eye was flickering between a sickly lagoon and a frenetic pink. Luce choked, laughing nervously, “This is bad… this is real bad…”

He wanted to scream, but he was afraid of his own voice, unsure where his imagination ended and the real change began.

Luce backed away, trying to steady his breathing. He smiled, although an anxious ache made itself known in his core as he realized… how sharp his teeth looked.

“A’right… You’re fine,” he assured himself. “We’re good… everything’s okay…”

He winced, hearing a loud, resounding crack sound from within himself, nearly forcing him to his knees. His legs really, really hurt… It was clear that he wouldn’t be standing upright for long…

Growling, he shook his head, returning his gaze to his reflection. In just a few minutes… he looked less like a shape and more like… a Deceora…

“You’re okay,” he repeated, snarling. His horns flicked backwards, a growl spilling from his maw as he shook his head, finding it progressively harder to focus. His heart rate quickened, the monitor over his bad eye starting to beep loudly as his core lurched. He ground out his mantra, forcing himself to stay awake, “Nothing. Is. Wrong.”

A sudden, acidic agony roared from the young shape’s core, and he heard himself shriek, his eyes going wide as he instinctively clutched at his chest. His cybernetic hand flew up to cover his mouth, and he shuddered, terrified.

He coughed violently, flinching as lagoon corruption came away on his hand. There was no denying it. That Deceora had cursed him as soon as it sunk its fangs into his arm. Belle was right; he never should have tried to handle things himself… he was just a little kid.

“E-e-everything…. Everything is… is f-fine…” He hugged himself, trying not to focus on what was happening. His voice was a whisper. Anything above a quiet rasp, and he’d be able to hear the growl in his tone. He wanted to tear the corruption out, but it’d already reached his core… all he could do was hope he could fight it off. “It’s…. O-o-o-okay… i-it’s okay…”

It was getting harder to speak… oh honey butter biscuits, his face was a Tree-forsaken muzzle.

“You… you’rrreeee….” He trailed off with a whimpering croon, shaking his head. “Hhh.. you’rreee… o-okayyy… Yo….Rrrr...o-kayyyyyy…”

Tears rolled down his face, and Luce gave one last, defeated scream, hoping dearly that someone, anyone would hear him. For all he knew, he’d lose his mind and hurt someone… if no one came to shatter him now…

But with his current luck… what were the odds of that?

~~~

Three hours later, the door creaked open. Belle peered inside, looking around in hopes of seeing her little brother waiting for her, as he normally did. A small part of her expected to see him still sitting at that desk, scribbling away at blueprints. Maybe he actually tried to build something for once and set the house on fire.

As she pictured the possible outcomes, she couldn’t help but grin, wondering what amusing predicament her baby brother could’ve gotten himself mixed up in today.

However, when she entered the house, she was greeted with complete, eerie silence. The lights were all out… the curtains were closed. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw the darkness, her greeting dying on her tongue as her eye darted around, trying to find a reason for the seemingly abandoned state of the house.

She hoped that Luce was merely asleep on the couch or something, that he’d decided to be responsible for once and turn out the lights when he left the room. The chances of that were slim to none, and Belle’s anxiety whispered in the back of her mind, sending her into an instant panic.

“Luce?” she called cautiously. She heard her own voice echo through the building, and when there was no answer, she found herself worrying even more. She walked towards the kitchen, concern riddling her features. “Luce? Where are ya, you little demon child?”

Not even his nickname stirred a response. Belle growled to herself, picking up her lucky wrench. If Luce was just tricking her, she’d clock him in the horns for it… and if he wasn’t, she had a feeling she’d have to fight someone.

He’d just been injured, and it was obvious that he was still in pain. If any rogue or feral shapes had broken in, he wouldn’t stand a chance... Belle started off towards the workshop, hissing under her breath.

“This better not be a prank…” As she inched towards the entrance, she heard a sudden crash, her eye lighting up in tentative hope. “I’m warning you…”

She weighed the odds. On one hand, that sound could’ve been Luce trying to hide, what with the little trouble-maker he was. She had poked fun at him earlier, and he was known for getting petty revenge. It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that he was planning to scare her, just to send her flying into a tizzy over nothing. He wasn’t evil by a longshot, despite Belle’s constant prodding, but he lived up to his nickname as the “demon child.”

Belle felt her smile threaten to return, but she shook her head.

Nonetheless, the other possibility send fear rushing through her, quickly eclipsing all humor. It was rare to see a Deceora this far away from the Corrosive Valley or the Badlands… the odds of it coming with a pack were slim, but it was still possible.

Shattering the first creature would just summon the pack, if they were in the area. And in his current state… Luce would’ve been instantly incapacitated… shattered. Belle steeled herself for what she might see, be it shards or her brother. She’d dealt with loss before, and while she never wanted to lose another loved one, she prepared herself for the worst.

“A’right… I’m givin’ ya five seconds to show yourself…” she yelled.

She heard the scrabbling of claws against tile, and she twitched, trying to restrain herself from charging. It was a Deceora alright.

“One… two… aw, blight it… FIVE!”

Belle let out a battle cry, rushing through the entrance in an attempt to startle the monster. Her eye was blurred from the tears that she’d been holding back, but she kept swinging, suddenly glad to have extra arms. If that thing tried to come at her from behind, she’d knock it silly.

She heard a gutteral shriek ring out as one of her fists met scales, and she reeled, her eye snapping open. The Deceora was quite small for its kind, looking pathetic compared to the monster that had attacked the night before. Perhaps the first creature had been its mother. Chances were, this small, unassuming monster had wandered to their home, searching for its fallen parent. It was too young to fight properly, but a single good swipe from those wicked claws could knock out any shape, even if the intent wasn’t to kill.

In any other occasion, Belle might’ve spared it, knowing what it was like to lose a parent, but now that it entered her home, now that it had possibly killed her brother, all mercy flew out the window.

She narrowed her eye, rage filling her heart. It was hard to focus on the thing, her gaze darting around in search of any sign of her brother. The Deceoras were merciless hunters. It was likely that, if he was in shards, they’d either been devoured or trambled, leaving no traces behind.

Even if this one was unwilling to fight, its instincts would have driven it to feed as soon as the blood was spilled. Luce was as good as dead.

“I know ya can’t understand me…” Belle snarled. She lowered her wrench towards the monster’s snout, her tone venomous. “So I’m giving you five seconds to clear out before I shatter you. Limb. By. Limb.”

It suddenly squeaked and reeled back, nearly tripping over its own legs. It was definitely young and probably hadn’t ventured into civilization before, unable to properly maneuver on a smooth, tiled surface.

It stumbled, the spikes around its head drooping as it stared up at her, almost sad. Belle knew better than to falter, her voice ringing out as a threatening yell as she grew more frantic.

“I don’t care that you’re a baby, I’ll shatter you like you did to my brother!”

At that, the Deceora seemed to understand, if only through the aggression in Belle’s tone. It backed away, drawing in on itself, a small, rumbling whimper echoing from its core. Belle had never seen a Deceora whimper, even when injured. They were natural killers, and they never showed weakness. However, this creature didn’t seem like it wanted to fight at all...even to defend itself… It was truly at her mercy.

She grinned, despite herself. A malicious, vindictive urge welled up in her heart, and she advanced, a wicked sneer spreading across her face. She raised the wrench again. While she was sure she had other, quicker means to dispose of this thing, she wanted to cause it just as much pain as it’d caused her brother. Slowly.

“You probably won’t even fight back, eh?” She chuckled as the monster suddenly squeaked, frantic. “Good. That makes it easier for me.”

She swung. Metal met bone as the wrench made contact with the Deceora’s plated back. It was sent flying, shards bursting from the impact as it hit a wall. It scrambled to stand, a constant, pitiful whimper pouring from its jaws. It refused to run, however, staring up at Belle with those melancholy, distressed eyes.

Belle approached it again, laughing almost madly.

“Not so tough now, huh?” She reveled in the fear that blossomed in the monster’s gaze as she held her makeshift weapon high, preparing to strike. “That’s what you get for SHATTERING MY BROTHER!”

This time, the wrench came down upon the monster’s back, near the base of its neck. It crumpled, a hissing screech ripping from its throat as it covered its head, panicking. Dusty shards sprayed from the bludgeon wound, and parts of its shell were dented and cracked.

Still, it refused to attack… it almost seemed to be pleading her to stop.

“Hhhh….” Its breaths were ragged with pain. It tried to make itself seem small, terrified. “Nnnooooo. Noooo… mrrrrrr….”

Belle relented. She could let it go with a warning, but it’d likely just return when it was old enough to fight. She raised her hand again, scowling.

The helpless Deceora cowered, shaking its head as if in disbelief. Startlingly, tears flowed from its eyes, and as it looked up at Belle, she thought she saw a flicker of pink in its foggy, soulless gaze.

She faltered, glancing at its arms. One of its forelegs was cracked rather severely, from the elbow to the wrist. Belle was sure she hadn’t hit it there. She’d only gotten two good swings, and both had cracked against its shell. That wound was strikingly familiar, looking quite recent...

Shaking her head, she prepared to land a final blow, tiring of toying with the monster. If it kept screaming, it’d alert the rest of the pack… and she’d learn just how threatening a group of protective monsters could be.

“Enough playin’ around…” She squeezed her eye shut. Something felt very wrong. “T-time to die…”

However, as she readied herself, she heard a frantic, hissing squeak that made her stop in her tracks.

The Deceora suddenly shrieked, shaking its head in a frenetic attempt to stop her. Its stubby tail was tucked between its legs in its fear, and its entire form was quivering.

“Nooo… mrrr….. No morrreee!”

Belle backed away, watching it. That was the most sentient display of fear she’d ever seen from a feral. She expected it to go down fighting, but in seconds, any fight that it may have put up dissolved into pathetic whimpers.

Its flailing, panicked state reminded her of a child’s tantrum, and the more it screamed, the less guttural its cries sounded.

“Mowww!” it cried. It let out a sharp exhale, shuddering. “Hhhhh…. hhhhuuurrrrt.”

“What?” she deadpanned. She glared down at the creature, waiting for some sort of response. It probably couldn’t comprehend speech, but she supposed that this particular Deceora had more than a few surprises up its sleeve, and perhaps sentience was one of them.

Its teary eyes glimmered with tentative hope as its attacker faltered. Squealing, it sat up on its haunches, wincing a few times as its cracked shell protested. It looked up at Belle, its eyes continuing to flicker with that too-familiar pink hue, which was slowly encompassing the lagoon shade.

It squeaked, trying to form words, “... E-Eeellllee….” It shook its head, trying again. Its maw clicked and rattled with the effort, the gaps between its fangs producing an odd, whistling sound. Its lack of intelligibility frustrated it, and it hissed, “Eeellee…….it meeee...”

Belle tilted her head, backing away. She cautiously placed her wrench down, folding her arms. Something about the sound the thing was making was unsettling, and she felt a paranoid, upsetting fear beginning to settle in her core. It was almost… dare she say...familiar.

“What… what are you trying to say?” she questioned softly. The gruff, threatening tone had dropped from her voice completely. She was filled with a curious, almost fearful collection of thoughts, her mind buzzing. “Are you trying to speak to me?”

The Deceora whimpered, pointing at her with a shaky claw. Belle instinctively flinched, grabbing for her wrench. The thing just cowered, squealing. It drew back, shuddering as it attempted to speak again.

“E-e-elle…” It perked up as it pronounced something coherent, hesitantly pointing at the purple shape. “Elle… Elle!”

Belle’s eye went wide, and she faltered. “Me?”

The Deceora nodded wildly, trotting towards her. Before she could react, it slumped its entire weight against her leg, wrapping its lanky arms around her in a haphazard embrace. Belle nearly kicked it in reflexive action, only stopping herself when she heard the affectionate purr that rumbled from the thing’s core.

This wasn’t an attack… it was a hug. This creature trusted her, even after she attacked it. Not only was it unwilling to harm her; it was fully willing to risk its life to show her… something...

“M… meeee… Luuucccceee…” Its words were slurred, laced with hisses. “Luucceee...Elle… brr-rrooww… brrrrooootheeer….” It trailed off with a mournful croon, its spikes curving downwards.

Belle looked down at it in trepidation. Its eyes had started to glow a solid pink, its voice slowly losing the gravelly tone.

“Are you… are you trying to say… my name?”

It nodded, then tried again. “Luce… me…” It covered its face, wiping away its tears. “Ssscared…. Hurrrrtsss…”

Those few words made Belle choke on her breath. Without further warning, she reached down and picked up the strange Deceora, placing it… him… on the work table.

Voice breaking, she addressed it. “What… what are you?” She forced herself not to cry, her mind coming to a terrifying conclusion. “Why can you understand me?”

He pawed at some blueprints, trying to make the connection between Belle’s brother and himself. As he looked over the papers, his eyes welled up with tears again, and a whimper spilled from his maw. He looked up at the purple shape, holding a blueprint in his jaws as he frantically pointed at himself. Belle shook her head, her mind reeling as she tried to process everything.

Somehow, this was her brother. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt tears welling up again, her expression set in a tight frown. She’d heard tales of shapes mutating into Deceora-like beasts, but in all cases, they lost their minds and became part of the pack. Luce was still conscious, still trying to speak to her, to convince her not to harm him. He didn’t even lash out… and yet, she nearly killed him in a fit of vengeful rage.

As she failed to respond, the Deceora grew frantic, tears falling from his eyes. His jaws clattered as he gave a rattling hiss, pawing at where his name had been scrawled upon the blueprints, until his claws tore through.

“It… me! Yrrr… brro...brroothheerrr…” He whimpered, eyes shining. “Luuuccee…”

Belle snapped out of her trance, backing away a bit as she looked over the beast. He was unrecognizable, save for the pink hue in his gaze. While his form was monstrous, his body language was frustratingly familiar, obviously that of a sentient child… not a predatory beast. He was so frantic, trying to communicate his identity, but the words scrambled, leaving only a guttural hiss, which only aggravated and distressed him further.

No matter how much Belle tried to convince herself otherwise, there was no denying it; the Deceora sitting before her was her brother.

“No. You don’t need to convince me anymore… I know it’s you, Luce.” Her voice shook as she looked him over, feeling quite guilty for attacking him. He hadn’t even put up a fight to defend himself. He was willing to die instead of harm his sister. “How… how did this happen?”

The creature whined, its horns drooping. It held up its injured arm, showing off the bite marks that lined its flesh. The wounds looked fresh, and if Belle looked close, there was still pink blood among the green ooze that dripped from the cracks.

“I… don’t… know…it jussst… hh-hurts...”

Belle shook her head, growling. “That’s not an answer, Luce! Why are you... Why is my baby brother a Deceora?!”

Luce squeaked, then looked down at his arm. The corruption seemed to be centered around the wound. There was no doubt in his mind that the bite had changed him… somehow.

“A-afterrrr...Yoouu… leave. A-arm h-hurt. Change… into this.” He seemed to be getting used to his new mouth, although his words were still labored. He looked down, ashamed of himself. “M-m-monster…”

Tears finally spilled from Belle’s eyes, and she pulled Luce into a hug, hearing his shaky, rasping breaths. A deep, instinctive fear welled up as she heard the Deceora hiss, although her sisterly love overtook that, her embrace only tightening as she realized that… no matter what form he took, this was her brother, and he’d never hurt her.

She pulled away, finding it hard to look him in the eye, not wanting to see his sentient, deep sadness within those predatory orbs. She didn’t want to see her brother staring through her, unable to communicate. It hurt to see him like this...

“Are you okay?” She instantly winced. Of course he wasn’t okay. He turned into a Tree-blighted Deceora. She sheepishly added, “Sorry… standard question.”

Luce huffed, his tail tapping against the desk as he allowed himself to laugh, his chuckles sounding like staccato growls. As soon as he laughed, however, his eyes went wide. He instantly covered his mouth with a paw, whimpering.

“Not… scare… you…” He whimpered. “I… sound scary… monster...”

Belle sighed, rubbing her temples as her horns drooped.

“You’re not a monster, Luce. Stop saying that.”

He looked away, his voice airy. “You said… it…” He growled slightly as a twinge of pain raced through is back. “Said… I hurt…. Someone.”

Belle followed the Deceora’s gaze to the bloodied wrench on the counter, feeling a swell of guilt settling in her core. Robotically, she reached for the tool, turning it around in her hand. Luce winced, that pitiful whimper beginning to spill from his jaws again. The purple shape faltered, her eye narrowing. Her gaze softened, and she tossed the wrench in the nearest trash bin.

“There.” She folded her arms. Luce tilted his head, perplexed as to why she’d throw away her favorite tool. She scoffed, a tiny grin starting to quirk at the edges of her mouth. “Anything used to hurt my baby bro is trash, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hearing this, the Deceora’s tail started to wag, rapping against the metal table in a series of rhythmic thumps. Frustrated, Luce turned and hissed, trying to stop the newfound appendage. Nothing worked, and he pouted, looking quite silly. Belle watched, stifling a chuckle; this was her brother, alright.

She suddenly reached for Luce, picking him up before he could protest. He was the same weight, perhaps a tiny bit lighter from the energy burned in his change, as well as the shards he was missing. He whimpered, afraid of being dropped, but Belle just chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m not lettin’ you go again, ya dork.” Her second pair of arms reached to better hold Luce, and he grumbled, his lanky arms dangling. “I see what happens when I leave ya alone… ya go and turn into a Hue-forsaken Deceora, of all the things.”

Luce huffed, and Belle grinned, glad to see him returning to his normal, snarky self. She carried him to the kitchen, dropping him rather unceremoniously onto the tiled floor. The drop wasn’t high enough to hurt him, but he squealed, scrambling to his feet as he was deposited.

“What… that for?” He hissed, arching up. “Rrrr…”

His Deceora instincts seemed to be shining through a bit, yet Belle found herself uncaring of the threat, her back turned to him as she started to search through the cabinets for anything suitable for a predatory animal. Luce would normally eat a bagel or something. In his current state, Belle wouldn’t be surprised if he requested the souls of the innocent, just to mess with her.

“I’m getting you something to eat, ya demon child.” She chuckled, looking over the refrigerator door to see the Deceora snarling at her, his maw agape. “You don’t scare me. I fought off far larger threats before, and you couldn’t even raise a claw to me.”

He halfheartedly swiped at the air, grumbling. He was, admittedly, quite famished. He wasn’t sure if that was to be attributed to the energy lost in his transformation or just the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. Judging by how empty his stomach was, it was probably both.

He perked up at the smell of steak, tilting his head as Belle grabbed a plate of the rarest meat she could find, undoubtedly the unwanted leftovers from one of her attempts at cooking. While she was a wizard in the engineering field, the same couldn’t be said for her culinary skills.

She set the plate down in front of Luce, who growled softly, pawing at it.

“You need a fork, or…?”

He shook his head, grinning with rows of deadly fangs. Belle raised her hands in surrender, before turning back to grab a half-eaten muffin. Of course, the little snack was pushed all the way back, and so she had to take a minute to dig through old cartons of juice and milk, not caring as she heard tearing sounds around her.

When she looked back, the steak was already in shreds, the Deceora just looking hungrier from the appetizer. He hissed, his eyes flaring a predatory lagoon as he announced his dissatisfaction, arching up a bit.

Belle winced, her eye going wide as she whispered, “Luce?”

The action reminded her of normal Deceora behavior, and for a moment, she thought that he’d finally lost control of himself. Deceoras were prone to tearing their prey into shreds, decimating them like land-borne piranhas. A twinge of worry hit Belle, and she backed up slightly.

However, just as soon as he’d snapped, Luce seemed to regain his senses.

He seemed to notice what he’d done, whimpering slightly and turning away.

Belle’s expression softened, and she kneeled, looking into his eyes. His magenta gaze was fearful, even now, and he drew in on himself a bit, whimpering.

“Not… okay… can’t think…” He held his head, his eyes flickering between lagoon and pink. He couldn’t decide what urge to act on; the will to flee or to lash out.“Don’t want… to be… monster…”

“You’re not a monster-”

Luce cut her off with a sudden, guttural hiss. Belle reflexively flinched, her eye glimmering with fear as she momentarily forgot who she was looking at. The fear in his sister’s gaze only made Luce cover his face, his form shaking with raspy sobs.

“Don’t want… to hurt you…” He whimpered, his breaths labored. “Can’t control… it...wantsss to hurt you…”

Belle pulled him into another hug, and he squealed, flailing. He rested his head on her shoulder, shuddering violently.

“I… scared…” His voice faltered, dissolving into wordless whimpers and sad purrs. “Rrrr….”

Belle sighed. “I know… I’m scared, too…” She looked away. “Don’t worry… I’ll find a way to fix this… we’ll find a way, together.”

Luce crooned dejectedly. “No… I monster… forever.”

“You… you say that as if you haven’t always been… my little monster…” Belle hugged him tightly, her breaths shaky. “I promise I’ll reverse this… somehow. As long as you have your memories, I won’t give up on you.”

Luce let out a low trill, huffing in disbelief. In all the cases he’d heard of shapes becoming feral, none of them had reverted to normal, even after their ultimate deaths. Then again, none of them had retained their minds, either…

“I’m not giving up on you, Luce… just because you’re a Deceora on the outside doesn’t mean you are on the inside. No measly bite is gonna change that, got it?”

Luce pulled away, averting his gaze. Belle huffed indignantly, narrowing her eye.

“You fought off Deceoras before like nobody’s business. Are you really going to let the least threatening one of them all take you down?”

That got her a laugh. The creature’s horns flicked up, and he glanced at her, tilting his head incredulously.

“Me..?”

Belle grinned shakily.

“Who else, ya dork?” She crossed her arms. “Now, what are ya, a cowardly Deceora… or the best baby bro in the universe?”

Luce finally faltered, turning around. His horns folded back, and he gave a non-threatening growl, pouncing into Belle’s embrace. He shook, although he didn’t seem as distressed as before, having been convinced.

Belle stood, holding Luce for what felt like an eternity. She could hear his heartbeat, and from where she stood, she spotted a few broken pieces of metal under the table. Realizing what the metal was, she put the Deceora down, sighing.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that for awhile, I’ve gotta make ya some new cybernetic enhancements… your old ones don’t fit anymore, eh?”

Luce perked up, his stubby tail wagging. He trilled in excitement, following Belle to the workshop.

While this was in no way the best situation, they had each other, just like always. And as long as they held on, kept trusting each other and clinging to hope, they’d get through anything… they always did.

#jsab #just shapes and beats #jsab au #steampunk au #luce #belle #Other people's OCs #Oh Look a Story Thing #gift #au #deceora #fresh friday #blixer #new game

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hydrospanners · 5 years

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a writing year in review: 2k18 edition

So I’m taking a minute to look back at all the writing I did this year and it has been a pretty spotty year for fanfic for me. Lots of long, blank spaces between weird surges of productivity. But! I did a lot of work on my original projects and also the boring adult responsibilities in my life (I changed jobs three times!!! I changed my name!!! I started going to therapy!!!!) and I pushed out some fic I really liked this year in spite of all that so, all things considered, I’m calling this one a win.

Without further ado, here is the breakdown of all the fic I’ve written this year plus a sad breakdown all of the geriatric WIPs looking at me with their big sad eyes, crossing their fingers for 2019. Hiding most of it under a cut because the rankings and WIP snippets got long.

2k18's Publication Stats for Fun & Profit:

This year I published 16 fanfics, all but one for SWTOR. 10 were brand new, started and finished in 2018, and 6 were old WIPS that have been marinating for Force only knows how long. That number is down from the 29 fics I published in 2017, but close to the 14 I published in 2016. 2015 was only 3 fics and 2014 was only 2. I have a total of 64 works published on AO3.

This year I published 34559 words for an average of about 2160 words per fic. This is extremely above my overall average of about 930 words per fic with a combined total of 59569 words published since I started posting fic publicly back in 2014.

So the number of fics may be lower this year but the number of words total and the average words in the fics I did publish went up! Please enjoy a review of the shit people liked most according to AO3 and then the stuff I personally liked most because I'm allowed to like my own writing, sue me.

2k18's Most Read Fics:

1. spoonful of sugar: Everyone gets sick sometimes; even big damn heroes. These are vignettes about the Jedi Knight's crew getting sick, getting treated, and getting better. (SWTOR)

I started writing this one when I got really sick during the summer of 2017 and I finally finished it this year! There's another part that I cut because it got way out of control that I'd like to one day add back in as a second chapter but I am okay with calling this one complete and maybe never doing that. This one is a nice combo of funny and a little bit sweet that I think is refreshing, like a cold, fruity drink on a hot summer's day. Here is my very favorite line from this whole fic because it is so delightfully dumb:

“Scourge,” Rhese tries and fails to sound as though he has some degree of command over his own voice right now. “Get off my dick.”

2. filling the table: They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. (SWTOR)

I think I started this one all the way back in like 2014 or 2015. I can't remember now but it was a long time ago and this piece of shit has morphed a million times since then. I must have rewritten the ending about a million times.

I really wanted to capture the desperation of the Balmorran Resistance while I was doing the character work with this, the sense of limited resources and hard living, and I am pretty happy with the result. I'm also pretty happy with the characterization work here, the little snippets they are both revealing to each other and the bigger snippets they aren't. I'm still not entirely happy with the white spaces in this one. I feel like I was a little too sparse and there are lots of places that don't flow if you don't already know what isn't being said, but I am more or less happy with this one! Here is my favorite bit because of the doublespeak foreshadowing their future relationship that was definitely on purpose:

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

3. take back what the kingdom stole: Alliance Commander Nirea Velaran has always had a talent for burning bridges. When Theron comes to her after Nathema to pay for his sins, she finds herself wondering whether some bridges can't be repaired. (SWTOR)

Hey look! Something I started and finished in the same calendar year!! This one grew out of a very stupid joke that I ended up not even making until the end of the fic. At first I wanted to draw that bit, but I got frustrated with my lacking artistic talent so I wrote it instead and it turned into one of my fave things I've written. It has nice scenery and character growth and intimate friendships that have a real impact on their emotional lives! Hurt feelings aren't just for romance fam!! Anyway here's my favorite bit because it's one of the most Rea moments I've ever written:

He shoved her off his shoulder none-too-gently, scowling as he looked skyward, as if searching for another fleet of hostile ships to arrive and grant him the sweet release of death. When none came, he settled for another hearty gulp of whiskey. He had to be halfway to knackered by now. “You’re insufferable,” he grumbled.

“I know.” She smiled a smile that felt damn near genuine and collapsed back against the grass, swinging her legs out over the crevasse.

“I don’t even feel bad about all this anymore.” Theron complained. “You deserve it.”

Rea only laughed. A real laugh, all the way up from her belly, and it felt so fucking good.

Theron looked at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, suspicious and too clever by half. “Fuck,” he swore, shaking his head. “You just mindfucked me, didn’t you?”

2k18 Author’s Choice:

1. when the wicked play. After witnessing his first real lightsaber duel, Doc reflects on the contradictions of what the Jedi are supposed to be and the realities of fighting a war. (SWTOR)

This might be one of my very favorite things I've written ever. In case it wasn't clear by now, I am pretty preoccupied with making myself feel the weight of the violence and uncertainty and war that plagues you in this game. It all feels so clean and sanitary in the game because it's a game, but it's something I always want to explore and make visceral in the stories I tell about the game. I am also obsessed with Jedi and the mythos and conflicting ideas that must surround them inside the story's universe. This was a fun way to marry the two and do a bit of character work at the same time. I'm also pretty proud of this one structurally, with how contained and bookended it is. [high fives self] Anyway here's my favorite part because it's some of the only action I've written that feels like it captures the brutal urgency of how I imagine actual lightsaber combat and also says a little bit about my girl Rea via the way she fights:

Rea is little more than a blur of blue light as she collides with the Sith across the field, her sabers swinging too fast for Doc’s eyes to track. She’s hammering her enemy from every side, pushing him back and back and back. Her assault is savage and relentless and there is nothing like grace or elegance in any of it. It isn’t beautiful; it’s violence. Ugly, brutal violence.

The whole thing is over in less than a minute.

Blue meets red meets blue meets blue meets blue meets red and then the Sith’s head is hitting the floor with a muffled thump. It happens so abruptly Doc doesn’t even realize it’s ended until the rest of the body collapses a heartbeat later.

2. shadows settle on the place that you left. In the wake of her father’s death, Nyria Ryder tries to reconcile the man she knew with the shadow he left hanging over her. (Mass Effect: Andromeda)

Look! Something that isn't SWTOR! (The only thing I wrote this year that wasn't for SWTOR.) I have a whole bunch of feelings about Alec Ryder and had a really good time porting Rea over to this game and seeing the ways his presence in her life altered who she is and the ways that it didn't. Also I have a lot of feelings about SAM. This is probably peak self-indulgence but I still feel like this is some efficient sketching of Nyria's character and Alec's and their particular relationship and I'm pretty proud of it. Also I'm always a slut for complicated familial relationships. Here is my favorite bit because it's such a nice illustration of who Ria is and an important turning point for her character:

She decided to be kinder to SAM than the universe had been to her. He was her brother, just as much as Rhys, and she was all he had. She would have to make sure herself was enough.

“He believed in us both,” she told him what he needed to hear, even though it wasn’t true. Then she made a promise she could not keep, because she knew he needed that too: “You and me are going to figure this thing out. Just you watch. We’re gonna make Alec proud.”

All the same stuff I said above applies here still. Glad we can all agree this one was nice.

State of the WIPs

Just for fun I did a dive into my WIP folder to see what I'm setting myself up for in 2019! Only it wasn't very fun at all because there is so much really old stuff in here!!!!!! Good luck to future me because past me really left you with the bag girl! Good luck carrying the weight of hopes and dreams and stories unfulfilled!!

I have a total of 48 fics in progress right now. The fandom breakdown is as follows, ranked from the most to the least: Star Wars: The Old Republic (35), Dragon Age (8), Mass Effect: Andromeda (4), Fallout 4 (1). And because I'm a masochist, I looked at the dates on all this shit too. Here's the breakdown of what year all of these things were started:

2014: 4 fics

2015: 9 fics

2016: 15 fics

2017: 11 fics

2018: 9 fics

That sound you hear is me sobbing in the distance. 2014!!! What the fuck!!!!! I am gonna finish those four fics this year if it kills me. We aren't living like this anymore. Please enjoy some samples from the WIP folder with absolutely no context:

“You carry sleeping pills in your pocket?”

“For my wife. Maybe you’ve met her? About this high--” Doc raised his hand half a foot over his own head “--brown hair, blue eyes, great ass.”

Ignoring the commentary on his sister’s figure and the extreme overestimation of her height, Rhese nodded. “I may have seen her around.”

“Well if you see her again, you tell her to come home. Her family’s worried.”

Do you hear that Rea? Your family is worried. Rhese wondered if she could feel their concern, their anguish. Was she searching for them as they searched for her? She’d always been good at hiding, but she’d never vanished completely before. A hole in the Force where her warm, fervent energy should have been.

He felt cold. Really alone for the first time in his life. Careful what you wish for, Liss had always said. You might just get it.

Ossus is important.

Rea feels it when she falls out of hyperspace, that shift, that tug of something just behind her navel. The familiar weight of destiny, settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach. It leaves her breathless, white-knuckled and gripping the shuttle’s controls, her skin prickling under the cold caress of dread.

She wasn’t expecting this story to have a happy ending—a colony of Jedi on the eve of war? she’s danced that dance enough times to know the steps by now—but she wasn’t expecting anything so bad as the draw of destiny.

Fate has never been anything but cruel to her. Feeling it here, now? This is going to be worse than she imagined.

This is how you deal with failure.

You just do.

You get up in the morning and brush your teeth. You train until your legs wobble beneath you. You choke down your nutripaste and ask Simms about his niece. You congratulate Tarinik on her promotion. You laugh too loud at Vortena’s shit jokes. And when Beniko’s eyes follow a little too close, you blow her a kiss like it doesn’t matter at all.

You keep moving forward because standing still will kill you. Because life is a race and if you slow down for even a second, death will catch up.

Nirea Velaran is not ready to die.

She is not maleficarum, but she is changed. Something is awake inside her now, and the whispers are louder each time she touches the Fade. Sweet, coaxing whispers full of promises. Some of them sound like her mother.

Take care of your brother, Niria. You’re all he’s got.

In the morning, Qarric wakes with a pounding head and an empty sleeve. He never asks, but he watches her more sharply, reprimands her more often, demands more of her in training.

When she is fourteen, blade tucked into the top of her worn boot, he gives her a warning. “You aren’t as strong as you think,” he says. “No one is.”

“Is it much farther?” Ria jabbed the bladed end of her stave--a fancy enchanted thing Vivienne had insisted on--into the sodden ground and squinted through the trees, praying for a glimpse of the promised coast. The air smelled of salt and death and the sea, but she hadn’t seen a single crashing wave yet.

“A few more miles yet,” Blackwall answered irritably. Ria had elected to blame the weather for his foul mood. “Same as it was five minutes ago, Your Worship.”

“And five minutes before that,” Varric added.

“Conditions are much safer inside the ship, Nyria.”

“Didn’t come all the way out here to be safe, SAM.” Another rock plinked hollowly against the wall of the prefab. “We came to see new planets and shit. That’s what I’m doing.”

“There is not much to see at night.”

“Not much to see during the day either. Sure as hell nothing worth dying for.” She huffed a bitter not-quite-laugh.

She spoke before he could even open his mouth to ask the question. “You’re overthinking it, little brother.”

“We’re twins,” he said, mostly out of habit. “And I’m taller.”

“Your hair is taller.”

“This is serious, Nyria.”

“So is your hair.” She reached out almost absent-mindedly to ruffle it, eyes still fixed on her omni-tool, but he dodged out of the way.

#long post #idk what else to tag this as #so long 2k18!!!!#you were a bitch of a year and i hated you!!!!!#good vibes & righteous anger for 2k19!!

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kawaiilikat1994 · 6 years

Text

Common Ground

*heavy breathing* Okay, this is the first IT fanfic I’ve ever done, so hhhhhhhhh enjoy? {roughly 2400 words}

@darth-stetter

Chapter One: 38 Days

“Just 38 days,” I told myself as I walked towards the front doors to Derry High School. “38 days until I'm free from this hell hole.” It was our first day back to school after spring break. Kids littered the front lawn, some hanging out in the shade of the trees, some playing catch. Then there were the unlucky few being mercilessly bullied. I ignored them all, though; I didn't have any real friends. It wasn't because I was some socially awkward loser hated by everyone. I just didn't like people enough to invest that much time and energy into a relationship. Despite my general apathetic nature attitude towards people, there were a few people who considered themselves my friend, even if the extent of our relationship was smoking pot and the occasional under-age drinking.

I kept to myself as I followed my normal morning routine: visit my locker, get my English books, grab an apple from the cafeteria, and wait outside the room 'til class started. I was pretty zoned out as I ate through my apple until Gretta, the junior's worst bully walked past.

“Slut!” she yelled before shoving another junior, Bev, into the nearby lockers. There was a loud clank as Bev's bony body slammed against the wall of metal. “Off to suck another dick in the bathroom?” Gretta sneered as her friends snickered beside her.

“Shut the fuck up, you ugly toad.” Gretta and her friends all turned to face me, but the look on my face told them not to mess with me.

“Whatever,” she muttered before pulling her friends away.

“Thank-” Bev started.

“I didn't do it for you,” I interrupted her. “I just hate that stupid bitch.”

“Language.” I turned to my English teacher, Mr. Wilson, who was unlocking the door. “I'd hate to write you up this close to graduation.” I didn't reply, and when I looked back Bev had disappeared. The bell didn't ring for another three minutes, but I was used to being the first kid to class. I took my usual seat in the back left corner and watched as the rest of the class slowly filed in. Mr. Wilson was halfway through roll call when the last student, Vic, walked in.

“Mr. Criss, so nice of you to join us,” Mr. Wilson sarcastically greeted him. He continued with roll as Vic made his way to the last available desk, which happened to be the one next to mine. When Mr. Wilson finished, her sat down his clipboard and leaned back on his desk. “Okay, everyone, listen up. This year the teachers got together and decided to do something different for your senior projects. In each class you'' be paired up with someone and given your task. For this class each pair will be given a historic novel to dissect.” He continued talking as he walked around the room, handing out syllabuses. “This breaks down every task I want you to do, as well as how many points you can earn for each part. Please be aware these stories will not be short or easy; this will be your classwork for the rest of the year.” I quickly scanned the syllabus as most of the class let out a groan. Mr. Wilson clapped his hands together to regain our focus. “Rows 2, 4, and 6: look to your left and say hi to your new partner.”

I gave Vic a once over and said, “Could be worse.” He smirked and gave me a nod. I really didn't mind being paired with Vic. He wasn't the dumbest kid in class, and he kept to himself, too, meaning I didn't find him as annoying as my other classmates. Mr. Wilson held up his clipboard and began assigning each pair a novel.

“Last but not least,” he said, “Vic and April: you get The Great Gatsby.” I let out a sigh and slumped my shoulders. On the one hand, the project should be easy since I'd already the book. “On the other hand, I'd read it at least a dozen times, so I knew I'd be bored out of my mind.

“Fitzgerald, he's not so bad,” said Vic.

“You've read it before?”

“Not this book,” he answered. “I read The Beautiful and the Damned. It was pretty good.”

“No, Lauren,” Mr. Wilson snapped. “You can't switch partners because you think Ivan is gross.” Vic and I both snickered under our breath.

“So what's your phone number?” he asked.

“U-um, what?”

“What's your phone number?” he slowly repeated like I was stupid. “I was thinking we could work on this after school, so I need a way to get a hold of you.”

“Oh, right,” I laughed, mentally face palming. I quickly scribbled my name and number on a piece of paper, but I didn't give it to him right away. “Trade, mine for yours.” Vic quickly copied me, and we traded slips of paper. “It, uh, would be best if we made plans in person, or I called you instead.” Vic's brows came together in confusion, and I quickly looked down. “Just... don't call me. My dad would get super pissed.” That seemed to be a good enough explanation, and he didn't press the issue. We spent the rest of class going over the syllabus and dividing the responsibilities. Before we knew it, the bell rand, signaling the end of class. We quickly made plans to meet up after school before going our separate ways.

In my next class, Calculus, the teacher gave the same speech as before. “Now, I understand this whole 'group project' concept is a little harder to apply to mathematics,” Dr. Harper explained, “so that's why I've turned this into a tutoring project. I've split the class into two groups: those with the higher grades and those who... could use some help. Your final grade will be determined by Person A's ability to increase Person B's final grade.” I was annoyed by this proposal; it meant I'd actually have to be patient with someone. Dr. Harper began calling out the pairs, and my ears perked up when I heard my name. “April Brembly and Patrick Hockstetter.” My face fell into my hands. It was no secret that Patrick had the worst grade in class. Whether it was because he was dumb or just didn't care, I had no idea, but it didn't help that he only attended class half the time. I jumped as Patrick plopped into the desk next to mine, his long legs knocking into mine.

“April,” he said, slowly drawing my name out as he gave me a devious smile. I tried to smile back, but it probably looked like I was wincing. “Oh c'mon, this'll be fun.”

“Look, let's get one thing straight,” I replied with a serious look. “I'm not failing this class because you decided to fuck around.” His head dipped back as he laughed, and I smacked the back of his hand. “I'm not kidding! Don't screw this up for me.” He suddenly grew very serious and gave me a salute.

“Yes sir!” I rolled my eyes as he laughed again. “Lighten up, April. It's not like you won't graduate, even if we failed this class.”

“That's not the point, I snapped. “How did you even make it to this class, anyways?”

“I'm pretty sure the other teachers passed me just so they wouldn't have me in class again,” Patrick answered. “I had Mrs. Tremblay for Algebra three times. I think she started pulling her hair our because of me.” He smiled triumphantly, and I simply shook my head.

“You're awful.”

“Thanks.” He stretched out even more, placing a leg in front and behind my desk, trapping my own in place.

“Do you mind?” I asked, my voice dripping with attitude.

“Not at all,” he answered with that damned smile. I rolled my eyes again and took my assignment sheet from Dr. Harper.

“Great, derivatives,” I sighed. “Does this even look familiar to you? I'm pretty sure you slept through the only class you bothered to show up for.”

“You been keeping tabs on me”? he asked with a wink.

“No,” I blurted, but I could feel my face heating up. He just laughed and leaned forward to read the assignment sheet. His face was so close to my shoulder I could feel his breath running down my arm. I shivered as goosebumps popped up on my skin, and he responded by draping his arm around the back of my chair.

“So, teacher,” he purred in a low voice, “work your magic on me.” I avoided eye contact for the next thirty minutes as I went over all the notes I had. Honestly, I had no idea if he was listening to me at all, but I still rambled on because it was the only way to distract myself from his intense stare. When I finished talking, I held out my pencil and turned the paper towards him. H eyes the sheet for a few seconds before looking back at me.

“What's in it for me?”

“Are you serious?” I groaned.

“You think I give a shit about my grades?” he laughed. “I'm not doing this unless I get something out of it.” His eyes drifted down to my chest, and I casually draped my hand over my cleavage.

“Like what?” I snapped. His fingers brushed against my bare leg, and I jerked away. “Something reasonable.”

“Make out with me,” he answered, staring straight into my eyes.

“First of all-”

“Every day.”

“W-what?” I blurted, wide-eyed.

“You don't make out with me, I don't do the work.” My mind raced as I struggled to think of something to say, and he smiled like a predator looking at cornered prey. “I need the motivation,” he added with a shrug. How bad do you wanna pass?” We silently stared each other down; he knew I couldn't afford to fail.

“Just kissing?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said unconvincingly. After what felt like an eternity the lunch bell rang. Patrick followed me out of the room and draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a curt tone, quickly shrugging his arm off.

“Going to meet Henry,” he answered, I remembered Henry's locker was a few down from mine and felt my face heat up again, embarrassed that I thought he was following me on purpose. “You should come hang with us.”

“I'm good, thanks,” I quickly answered. We walked around the corner, and I could instantly feel Henry's gaze on us. My stomach twisted into knots. The infamous bully never paid me any attention.

“C'mon,” Patrick urged as I stopped at my locker. “It beats eating alone.”

“I like eating alone,” I argued. I felt his arm snaking around my waist, and I smacked his hand away.

“I'll give you a free baggie after school,” he coaxed. I glanced up and watched him mimic smoking a joint. My lips began to twist into a smile, and I quickly looked away.

“What do you even do during lunch?” I asked.

“Smoke in Belch's car.”

“Got any menthols?” I closed my locker and looked up again, finding a cocky smile on his face.

“Always.”

“Dude, c'mon!” Henry barked a few feet away. Patrick cupped my shoulder and steered me in his friends' direction. “What's this?” Henry asked, motioning to me.

“April, my new... friend.” I didn't like the sinister tone in his voice, but I smiled anyways.

“You cool?” Henry asked, speaking to me directly.

“I guess,” I casually replied. He looked me and up and down before huffing.

“Let's go.” He led us out of the school and over to student parking where Belch's blue Trans-Am was waiting.

“Ladies first,” Belch said as he held the driver's seat forward. I climbed into the backseat, followed by Patrick and Vic. Henry took the passenger's seat and Belch the driver's. Everyone was quiet as the cigarettes were pulled out and lit up. I took a long drag off the one Patrick gave me, closing my eyes when the wave of nicotine hit me.

“So what's the deal with you two?” Henry finally asked, eyeing Patrick and I in the rear view mirror.

“School project,” I answered before Patrick had a chance to say anything stupid. “Uh, speaking of, I'm gonna be late to the library after school today,” I told Vic. Patrick's hand slid over my thigh, and I clamped my legs together to keep from moving further north.

“Wait, you're partners with Patrick and Vic?” Henry asked.

“What's with the third degree?” I asked back, not bothering to hide my agitation.

“So my mom's gonna be at work all night,” Belch spoke up. “We'll have the whole place to ourselves.”

“April, you down?” Patrick offered.

“Who the fuck said you could invite her?” Henry barked.

“Well, we were gonna work on our project,” Vic added, “So if she just comes with-”

“Whatever,” Henry huffed.

“If you're gonna be a whiny bitch about it, I just won't go,” I threw at him. The other boys stared at me wide-eyed as Henry spun around in his seat.

“What did you say, bitch?!”

“You suddenly can't hear?” I replied, not backing down.

Henry's grip on his headrest tightened as he snarled, “Don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“Then stop treating me like shit!” I snapped. The car was silent as we stared each other down.

“Then prove you're not,” he finally said before slumping back in his seat. Patrick wrapped his arm around my shoulders, as if to comfort me, and I rolled my eyes. Henry was the first to finish his cigarette, and even though he didn't say anything, everyone knew he was impatiently waiting on us to finish. I quickly puffed on my cigarette and tossed it out the window after his. Patrick was the next to finish, followed by Belch, and eventually Vic.

“Meet here after school,” Henry said before getting out of the car. He looked back at me and added, “We'll leave your ass here if you're late.” He didn't wait for the rest of us to exit the car before walking away.

#bowers gang imagine #henry bowers imagine #vic criss imagine #belch huggins imagine #patrick hockstetter imagine #bowers gang x oc

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neighbourskid · 4 years

Text

Future?

(original date: 06 May 2017)

People keep asking me what I want to do with my degree, why I’m studying English and Art History. I’ve been asked this question so many times, I lost count. When I was in grammar school, people asked me what I wanted to do afterwards, what I wanted to study. When I was in secondary school, people urged me to go look at jobs so I could go into an apprenticeship afterwards. Other people urged me to go to grammar school. In the end, I repeated a grade so I could go to grammar school without having to do the entry exam. Why? Because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Or too many ideas. When I was in primary school, my best friend wanted to be a marine biologist. I had no real interest in marine biology. Nevertheless, in primary school I wanted to be a marine biologist when I grew up.

See, I never really thought about myself much when I was a child. I didn’t live much into the future, I always lived in the moment. Of course, I looked forward to things. Like seeing my dad again the next weekend. Or that holiday that we were planning for a while now. Or going to the swimming pool next summer.

I remember my mom telling me once that she always thought I would be too dependent on my brother. My brother and me, we’re pretty close, I think. We weren’t the “typical” siblings that fight a lot because they are siblings. Of course, we had our rows, but I think most of the time we’ve been kind to each other. I think what played a lot into that, is that we’re only 18 months apart. We were the same height for a while and some people even thought we were twins. We also shared a lot of interests, I guess. Our parents never forced me into this typical girl role. Of course, when I was four, I think, my godfather gave me a doll for Christmas. I burst into tears upon seeing it. The next year he got me police cars. My mom and I always had our fights over clothes, but she never really forced me to wear dresses or exceedingly girly things, if I didn’t want to.

Our parents treated my brother and me pretty much the same. When my brother got a gameboy for Christmas that one year, I got one as well. I wasn’t forced into liking super girly things, and I don’t think my brother was forced into being super manly. I’m sure, if I were interested in STEM fields (or good at them anyway), my parents would support me in studying in them. I’m sure if my brother would’ve wanted to, I don’t know, be a professional dancer? They would have supported him.

I never really thought much about what I wanted to be when I grew up, though. My brother knew very early on that he wanted to make games and now, several years later, he studies game design. He’s there.

People keep asking me what I want to do with my degree, and honestly? I have no fucking idea. When I graduated secondary school I went to grammar school because I didn’t know what I wanted to do in my life, who I wanted to be. When I graduated grammar school, I tried working for a year, because I didn’t really know what to study yet. I was unemployed for the better bit of a year. I’ve started studying English at university last summer. I am in my second semester now and in one month it’s already finished again. I have 4 semesters left getting my Bachelor at this university. What I want to do with my degree? Not the faintest idea.

Okay, well, that is not quite true. I know what I would like to do with my life, and I suppose my English degree is only helping me achieve that. But it’s not an obvious final destination for that degree. My peers will become teachers or work in advertising, PR, as linguists or do research. Me? I have seemingly unachievable dreams.

When I was in 6th grade, I wanted to be a mangaka, I wanted to draw mangas for a living. I even had the presentation we had to have about jobs about mangakas. My teacher criticized that it was a somewhat invented job (joke’s on you, Mrs W, every job was invented at some point). I soon dropped that dream because I found out just how little life mangakas have once they’ve managed to produce something worthwhile. At the same time that I got into mangas, I also got into fan created stuff related to that. I scrolled through pages beyond pages of fanart, I read some good and a lot of really crappy fanfics, and when that wasn’t enough anymore, little me, who had no computer at that point, started to handwrite fanfiction myself. Handwrite. On paper. Or when we weren’t at home, I wrote them in unsent text messages on my crappy old phone that didn’t have a note application yet. I still have a box full of pages scribbled full with ideas and stories I wrote when I was probably about twelve.

I’ve been writing stories for nearly ten years now. I started in German but from 8th grade on, I wrote in English as well, and once I was in grammar school, English was the only language I wrote in. That’s why I’m studying English. I want to improve my English. Make it flawless. Exercise that muscle, write as much and as often as I can. If I could be a writer, I would take it in a heartbeat. It’s not easy and not something you can study at university, but at least I can study something to help me with my writing.

What I tell when people ask me what I want to do with my degree? Sometimes that, sometimes not, because it’s not all of it. I don’t know if being a writer is the one thing that I want. Especially, what kind of writer do I want to be? That question ties into one of my other dreams.

This might be obvious, but I love movies. I absolutely love going to the cinema, I love the experience of it, sitting in a room with a handful of strangers (sadly, nowadays it isn’t more), experiencing the same thing and leaving the cinema, not as strangers, but as a collective, as a group, as people who have something in common, who have experienced something together. I love that. But I also enjoy watching movies alone at home. I do it all the time. I love watching tv series. Getting into that excitement of what will happen next. Of course, I always whine about how I have to wait a week when I’m caught up with a show and can’t just binge-watch through it all, but it’s actually a very good feeling. You get to think about it for a while and then (hopefully) get the answers to your questions. What I love about the cinematic media, is that it can make you think. It can give you questions, make you reevaluate opinions you had, thoughts you had, knowledge you thought you possessed. Movies have done so much for me. I’ve learned so much about myself through movies and tv shows. I come out of the cinema inspired, ready to go and change the world. I watch interviews or panels from conventions, I hear actors and directors and writers tell stories about their work in the film industry, about their experiences, their life and I… I feel so inspired by that. These wonderful, beautiful, intelligent people create worlds out of thin air, out of nothing, and kids, teenagers, adults, so many different people see these movies and get inspired, they are touched by it. That is so beautiful!

I am so often inspired by movies and I see what they have done for me and I…. I want to give that back. To pay that forward. I know that there are a lot of kids out there who are like me, who find themselves in movies, and I would like to give this back to them. To create things that inspire them. Make a movie that will change their life. That’s what I want. I want to inspire people. Give back to them what the film industry has given me.

Do I want to be an actor? I don’t know. Maybe. I’d have to try it out. I don’t… I don’t actually really care that much what I’d do, I just know I would want it to be there. I would happily bring cast and crew coffee every morning if it meant I would be part of something bigger, something that will someday inspire someone to do great things.

Right now I feel like going into screenwriting would be my number one choice. It has film and writing combined. It also helps that my brain usually comes up with story ideas in cinematic from rather than written. It’s hard writing a scene in a book when your brain supplies things like “establishing shot backed with lord of the rings style music” when you can’t actually write music into your book. So yeah, I think screenwriting is my choice at the moment.

Why I don’t tell that to people when they ask me what I want to do with my English degree? Because they look at you like you’re a crazy nutcase or a poor child with a dream that will never come true. I know, I live in a small ass country not even close to where I want to be. I know I still have a long way to go. But why look at me like I’m mad? Didn’t you ever have dreams? Did you not want to go out there and change the world? I can not and will not believe that your dream has always been sitting in a stinking office from 9 to 5, typing numbers into a computer and whining about how crappy the coffee in the cafeteria is. If it is, then good for you and your mediocre life. If you gave up on your dream? That sucks, man, and I’m sorry. But please stop shitting on my dream.

I’ve always been a dreamer and I will never not be one. So what do you care if my dream seems unachievable? It’s not your dream. What do you care if I fly too close to the sun? It’s my own damn problem if I fall, not yours.

So please, I ask you kindly, if you feel like asking me what I want to do with my English degree with that wonderful undertone that screams ‘you should’ve chosen some other degree’? Fuck off.

#blog post #import from old blog #personal #rant #future

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