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maddestzoomer · 4 years

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beautiful sunrises

request from anon - Hi! Can I please request a oneshot Robin x fem! reader where robin loves sunrises and the reader doesn't? And maybe like, could you make it so Robin comes out to the reader as having a crush on her? Just something crazy soft. Thanks!

summary - robin wakes the reader up so the two of them can experience a beautiful sunrise together. in doing so, the two of them have a needed conversation.

warnings - there’s some slight referenced homophobia and some slight cursing, but other than that, this is just a super soft story!

word count - 1.5k

a.n. - i really enjoyed writing this story, and i hope whoever requested this enjoys reading it! let me know your thoughts on this story, if you have any :)

Robin had always loved sunrises. That's nice, but you loved to sleep. Plus, to you, they looked the same every day anyways.

The two of you had shared a room in an uncomfortably small apartment. You have the bed, and Robin has a shitty-blow up mattress- for now, at least. Your grandmother owned the apartment, and allowed for you the two of you to live there.

She had a house of her own to stay in; one you had always found fascinatingly beautiful thanks to its Victorian style and dark color scheme.

Robin had recently been kicked out of her mother's home for reasons she absolutely refused to say- causing her to show up at your door one night with puffy eyes, a red nose, and a bag of clothes. You, of course, immediately welcomed her with open arms.

The two of you had only lived together for a week so far, and if you're being completely honest with yourself, you loved having her around. She could cook, she had an amazing taste in tunes, and she somehow enjoyed cleaning. Not only that, but she never failed to make you smile.

The only problem was those goddamn sunrises.

"C'mon, Y/N, it's beautiful out!" Robin said, pulling back the dark curtains that kept your room comfortably safe from the brightness outside. "I promise, it's totally worth looking at."

You softly groaned in response, turning over slowly.

Even though your head ached from whatever stupid thing you'd done the night before, even though your blankets were the softest things you'd ever felt over your eyes, you looked up from your comfortable mountain of pillows and out of the window she held open for you.

"C'monnnn, get up, Sleeping Beauty." Robin said with a beautifully bright smile. The fact anyone could manage to be so beautiful this early in the morning simply astounded you.

Playfully, you roll your eyes. Robin had picked up the habit of calling you 'Sleeping Beauty', a nickname you surprisingly didn't hate. In fact, the first time she called you Sleeping Beauty, a soft blush dusted your cheeks and your stomach twisted in knots.

"I made coffee with cinnamon, just the way you like." She said, now closing the curtain. "Come drink a cup outside with me."

You sighed deeply, throwing your blanket from your body before swinging your legs over the side of your bed. Yawning, you rub your eyes.

"What time is it even anyway?" You question, standing up. Your feet were greeted with cold wooden floors, flooring that never failed to send a shiver up your spine.

"6:02." Robin replied, running a hand through her hair. If you had it your way, you'd get another solid three hours before even contemplating getting up. But there was something special about Robin, something that made you want to get up and just be with her.

"You're not gonna regret this." She said with a smile before leaving the room, likely to go slip on some shoes.

Once alone, you stretched and threw on a Hawkins High sweater-shirt, then slipping on a pair of black flip-flops.

You walked from your room, each step being announced by your flip-flop making a soft smacking sound on your heel.

There Robin stood, two cups of coffee in her hand and a small smirk pulling at her lips.

You smiled a small moment, running a hand through your locks. "You never fail to amaze." You said as you took your cup from her. Robin could make an absolutely amazing cup of coffee, and she knew it.

"Why, thank you." Robin chirped, opening the door for the two of you to walk out of.

Thankfully, your apartment was settled on the first floor, which meant you didn't have to walk up and down stairs every day to get home.

Robin led the way, heading towards the back door.

There's something so strange about the fact you now have Robin living with you. Just a week ago, the summer was gearing up to be hot, boring, and lonely.

Now, while it may still be hot, it definitely won't be boring or lonely. And you were thankful for that- even if you didn't know how to express it.

Soon, the two of you walk outside, being greeted with a warm breeze that hugged your skin and messed your hair.

You took a seat on the stairs, Robin joining next to you.

The both of you remained silent as you gazed up at the sky.

It truly was stunning. Vibrantly pink and orange clouds were visible, with a beautiful fluffiness you almost couldn't comprehend. The sun itself was only just beginning to make an appearence from behind the clouds, allowing for hazy rays of pure shine to jet out in seemingly random pockets of beauty.

The air was sweet now with the smell of lilacs and grass, making lovlieness swirl around in your lungs and mind.

Robin, however, wasn't looking at the sunrise. She couldn't help from staring at you- at the way your eyes were glossed over with vibrant pinks and oranges, at the way your lips parted slightly in awe of what was before you, at the way your hair was an absolutely gorgeous mess.- and you noticed this.

Looking to her with a small smile, you raise an eyebrow. "I thought the whole reason we came out here was to watch the sun rise."

"Yeah..." But I'm watching something even more beautiful than any sunrise I've ever seen before, Robin thought. "But I just like seeing your reaction. It's cute." She said. Fuck- was adding the word 'cute' too much? Fuck.

Softly, you blush, looking away and down to your cup of coffee. Cute. A simple word, one you never paid much mind to. You had been called cute before. In fact, you used to dislike the word 'cute' because of how childish it sounded. But now- due to it falling from her lips- it couldn't help from buzzing around your in mind.

"Umm... Y/N?" Robin softly asked. She noticed the blush on your cheeks, and felt the need to say something. She looked to the sky, seeing more soft pastel pinks and oranges than before. Already, she felt a lump growing in her throat.

"Hmm?" You softly hummed, looking over to her. Her change of tone was somewhat concerning. It felt like the tone people took up when they had something bad to say.

"I uhh... I wanted to tell you why my mom kicked me out." She said. She still wouldn't look at you, which made anxiety begin to brew in the pit of your stomach. Why wouldn't she look at you? Why was her voice in that tone? Why was her freckled skin growing pale?

"Oh? Alright." You said with a small smile. "But umm, Rob, you don't have to. Like- not unless you're absolutely sure you want to."

Your words of comfort drew a small, unsure smile to Robin's lips. Would you hate her after this? Fuck...

"Well, Y/N..." She took a deep breath in, one that made her chest dramatically rise and fall. "I was writing a letter for someone really special to me that just spoke about how much I like them and how beautiful and smart and funny I think they are-" She said quietly, cutting herself off from rambling. She could feel her pulse pumping under her skin- in the back of her throat.

You tried your best not to frown, not to express the million questions you had swarming around your brain. Who was this someone? You weren't jealous- no. You weren't about to even let yourself think you were jealous... But still, envy found a way to grown tight vines around your mind.

Robin's jaw clenched as her gaze dropped from the sky and to the uncut flowing grass below. "My mom found the letter and..." She wet her lips "and she made me tell her who it was about." She murmured softly. Her grip on her mug was growing considerably tighter.

She went silent for a few moments.

"It was about you, Y/N." She finally choked out. "I-It was about you."

You frowned in confusion, along with a bit of shock. "Me?" You repeated. Maybe you're just misunderstanding what she's saying-

Robin brought her dark blue eyes to your own and nodded. "I like you. I like you a lot." She said softly. Her insides were squirming. God- what was the expression you had on your face? Horror? Disgust? Hatred?

A smile pulled to your lips, one that absolutely radiant- one that took Robin's breath away for a moment. There wasn't anything except for absolute joy and... maybe even love in your eyes.

Taking her hand into your own, you gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I like you too, Robin."

#robin x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #stranger things #my writing #my concept #thanks for the request!#maya hawke #maya hawke x reader

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years

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Red is A Beautiful Colour

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: original

Prompt: phantom pain

TWs: blood (not detailed), torture (not detailed), captivity

******

Red. It was a terrible colour, one that Seera couldn't stand, physically or mentally. There was a time it was her favourite colour. It brought joy and an overwhelming sense of self, of indulgence. It was bliss and beauty. Red was tasty. But now...red was pain. And it was forced in front of her eyes everyday.

Yesterday was an older woman. She was dressed in rags just like all of the others thrown just out of Seera's reach. The woman was tolerable. She had a blood disease, would have made Seera sick.

Today was different. Today was a young man, though he could have been a boy. He might have looked to be 16 if it weren't for the mass swelling on his face. His lips were cracked, blood oozing out. Knees were bruised. Arms were traced with streaks of red from sharp blades. Whoever he was, the boy was young and he didn't deserve to be used as a...whatever Seera's captor's goal was. The boy was crying now; from the pain no doubt. Or maybe he was only afraid of Seera. There was no reason to be scared of her, she couldn't get anywhere. Whether it was from the weakness at not having a proper meal in days, almost a week, or because of the chain, she could never reach the daily lessons that the people who captured her threw in her room.

It was funny; how Seera's captor thought he could ease the creature out of her if he made her feel guilty. He didn't realize she was used to the cries and pleas of her prey. What he was doing made her feel more awful about her him than it did herself. By the time she was done feeding, she had the power to make her victims forget any trauma they felt at the initial attack and during the process. She could wipe away any dizziness they felt at losing a little of their red life essence. Now, when they were thrown at her feet, beaten nearly to death...that's when she knew she wasn't a monster at all.

The door was opening. She watched the boy in front of her flinch, then tremble some more. So he is more scared of then than me. Good to know.

"How do you feel?"

Seera rolled her eyes. It was the scientist. She shouldn't have expected anyone different. The scientist was always the first familiar person to visit her. He had to get his reports, see if his precious project was making any progress. "My teeth feel like hell," she said.

"Which ones?"

"The ones you wear around your neck."

The scientist hummed, jotted something down on his notepad. Seera was so sick of seeing those yellow pages. "And you, boy? Has she made any advances on you?" Seera watched as the boy tensed. He didn't say anything. "Has she made any advances on you?" the scientist repeated, being sure to enunciate if only to encourage an answer from the boy, who was now making every effort to scoot closer to Seera. Interesting, she thought.

"N-no," the boy muttered. "She hasn't, but I- but I am on her." The scientist didn't seem to hear the last part. Or if he did, he didn't care.

"Do you see this?" Seera laughed, or as much as she could with the pangs of pain shooting through her gums. There were no teeth anymore; they pulled them out. Why did it hurt so badly? "He prefers a death from a fangless vampire than a death delivered by your kind. Look what you guys have done to him." She lifted her chin, raked her eyes over the scientist's body. "I think it's time for a self-evaluation, no?"

Again, he wrote more on his pad of paper. Seera sighed. How stupid could a scientist be? Weren't they supposed to be the smartest bunch of humans? This young boy seemed more intelligent than the fifty-some year old man in front of her.

"So phantom pains," the scientist said. "Nothing else? Are you hungry? Maybe feeling a change of mentality?" The latest of the suggestions was the most obnoxious. It was the entirety of the scientist's experiment with Seera. His theory was that if he could make Seera feel bad for being a vampire, for preying on her natural prey, then maybe she could adjust to being a human. Part of this theory, of course, also involved de-fanging his captive. And here they were. Seera didn't feel bad for feeding. She only felt bad when seeing red because it made her nonexistent teeth hurt more than the chains she was stuck in 24/7.

"My teeth feel like hell," Seera repeated. Fascinatingly enough, the boy was now grasping her shoulder, trying to hold his beaten self up. "And I guess I could add that I couldn't stand if I wanted to." While the scientist jotted this note down, she whisperer to the boy, "Open the wound on your arm. Lift it to my lips when you're done." He obeyed, but waited until the scientist was done speaking since he'd started up again.

With the same investigative voice, the scientist asked, "Weak how, exactly? Do your limbs feel heavy, brain fuzzy? Describe your weakness to me."

"Let's see. My legs feel like there's lead attached to them. Maybe because there is. Perhaps you should take the chain off." She smiled even though the scientist didn't find it funny. "In all seriousness, they are heavy. And my heart," Seera held a hand to her chest. "Oh, right. I don't have one." She cackled as the man began scribbling out what he'd begun writing on his report. "My chest feels empty. I'm hungry. I-"

"-We gave you food."

"I don't eat bread."

He looked to his paper and scrunched his brows. "A moment, please. You're saying more than I can process." You are truly remarkable, smart one.

The boy lifted his arm. Shakily, but he managed to get it far enough that Seera was able to grasp it herself and lick the red streak. She hummed at the taste. Her absent teeth stung even greater, but she didn't mind. Seera felt like she could fly. She told the boy, "Are you sure you want this?"

"They'll kill me more terribly," he said with the barest of a nod.

Seera didn't usually kill her prey, but the boy was right. If she didn't kill him, the people that captured the two of them would, and he'd already been beaten to the point of crawling. If they had no use for him, if he didn't work for the scientist's purpose, then he didn't have a purpose at all.

She nodded. "Okay. I can make you sleep after some time. Would you like that?" He nodded. While the scientist was still writing, Seera pressed her lips to the open wound on the boy's arm and sucked as if her lips captured a straw. A growl rumbled through her as the blood coated her tongue and throat. The pain in her gums was gone and she could swear she felt fangs in the empty spaces once again. It was then that she eased the boy to rest while she finished taking his life. A part of her broke at the crime, but another assured her she was doing the right thing. She wasn't a monster, but everyone in that lab was.

Seera leaned the boy against the wall before standing. With one small kick of a leg, the chain burst away, then the other as she kicked with the opposite foot. It didn't take the scientist even a second to look up with frightened eyes. "How-" His eyes traveled to the drained boy. He dropped his pen and pad of paper."He-" Seera allowed herself a smirk while the scientist soiled himself.

"You may keep your souvenirs," she said and took a couple of steps closer to the man who held her captive. "I have new ones." She touched the teeth around the scientist's neck then smiled widely at him. Before he could yell for the guards, Seera sunk her teeth into the skin of his neck. She didn't bother putting him to sleep.

Red was a beautiful colour once again.

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 5 years

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Hidden Gems of the Silver Screen (And, to a Lesser Extent, the Telly)

It can’t have escaped your notice that the majority of my more recent posts (and fuck knows I’m not posting regularly at the moment) are about movies and TV. The reason for that is pretty simple: 2019 has, surprisingly, yielded some great movies and TV... and also some really torrid shite. On the one hand, films like Ma, Brightburn and The Perfection continue to breathe new life into the horror genre. On the other hand, sci-fi as a cinematic and televised thing continues to ignore its actual audience in favour of sniffing its own farts in a sound-proof chamber designed specifically for next-level virtue-signalling. One thing I will say about the dreck of 2019 is that it’s interesting dreck, at least so far. Another Life, for example, isn’t just bad: it’s mind-bogglingly, fascinatingly bad, as though someone set out to make the worst TV series imaginable and accidentally created a portal to another dimension made entirely of crap.

With all the amazingly wonderful and transifxingly terrible visual media on offer lately, it’s easy to forget that there’s a rich repository of films and TV series from just a few years ago that you’ve probably never watched. You see if you, like me, are a snooty, card-carrying member of the elitist intelligentsia, you probably missed films and TV series that looked dumb as soup on the surface on the grounds that they weren’t worth your time. Luckily for you, I’ve dived nose-first into the detritus of our dying culture, so you don’t have to, and I’ve ferreted out the diamonds from the pig-swill. Without further ado, I’d therefore like to present my list Easily Overlooked Gems.

1. Mandy The phrase “Nicholas Cage stars in a sword-and-sorcery rape/revenge thriller” does not inspire confidence. It’s therefore easy to ignore Mandy and the promptly forget it ever existed. Which is a shame, because it’s kind of a work of genius. The plot is exactly what you’d expect: a cult kidnaps, rapes and kills Cage’s girlfriend, Mandy, and Cage sets out on a mission of revenge culminating in a blood-bath. The nature of the revenge quest is what puts a sting in the film’s tail- or tale, if you’re feeling puntastic. You see, a lot of the bad guys exist in a constant hallucinatory haze after taking a drug that sent them mad after one dose. In order to fight on their level, Cage has to take a dose too. As a result, the world around him slowly but surely transforms into a nightmare landscape that looks like a cross between a D&D illustration and the cover of a heavy metal album and his grubby, personal mission of fury takes on the unmistakable resonance of a Conan-esque hero’s quest. By the end of the film, you have to wonder if Cage has actually slipped into some sort of alternate dimension or if he’s just lost his game-pieces completely. In places, it’s nearly as painful to watch as Landmine Goes Click (crikey, there’s one for the history buffs) but it looks and feels like Beyond the Black Rainbow. Worth your attention just because of how weird it is. I give it a solid four-out-five decapitated rapists.

2. Baby Driver Nothing about Baby Driver suggested it would be a good film: the way it was advertised as a car-chase movie trying to be cute; the stupid title; the fact that it came and went through cinemas like a fart in the night. Which is a shame, because it’s secretly brilliant. It’s a highly stylised crime film populated with the archest archetypes money can buy (to the point where some of the dialogue has a weirdly beat-poetic feel to it). It’s saturated colour palette and off-beat affect actually have something of a full-colour Jim Jarmusch flick about them. The hook, of course, is that the lead character (only ever referred to as Baby, because he’s got a punchably youthful face) has tinnitus and therefore has to listen to music constantly to drown at the buzzing in his head. The practical upshot of this is that a) every single scene is overlayed with surprisingly great and situationally appropriate music and b) he goes through life like he’s always dancing, so his way of moving lends to the film’s easy-going sense of flow. It also explains where his preternatural driving skills come from (I mean, not really, but within the context of the plot): he’s used to sliding effortlessly into patterns and rhythms because of the music thing. All of this could make a terrible film, of course, but execution is everything and, to everyone’s surprise, especially mine, this flick was executed with an astonishing level of panache. I rate it ten out of ten grizzly motor way pile ups.

3. Nightflyers It’s not just films that get overlooked as the tide of culture washes back and forth, like a great big sea of effluent. TV series also vanish unduly into the dustbin of history. Case in point, the criminally underappreciated Nighrflyers: Netflix pre-Another Life sci-fi offering that was actually good. It’s a pretty classic set-up: a group of mismatched wing-nuts on a spaceship, all of whom have secrets that that will threaten to tear them apart while they try to make contact with an alien life-form. What elevates Nightflyers is just how fuck-uped the cast are. There’s an angry British psychic whose spent his whole life in captivity in case he goes full Scanners on somebody’s head, a guy who only ever appears as a hologram for reasons too twisted to explain here, his evil mother whose uploaded her mind to the ship’s computer and gone batshit crazy, a genetic superbeing and a hacker who can send her mind into computers via a dodgy implant and who may or may not be drifting out of touch with the human condition. It’s great. 6 and half billion out of 7 billion monkeys, boiling in the void.

4. Hardcore Henry No, I don’t know who thought that title was a good idea either, but the point is that Hardcore Henry has no motherfucking right to kick as much arse as it does. It was clearly made on a budget that would embarrass a Youtube shampoo commercial, but it just flat-out rocks. Shot entirely in first-person, it follows the adventures of a mute cyborg as he seeks revenge against the bastard psychic entrepreneur who first built him then tried to kill him. Along the way, his main ally is a dude who keeps dying and coming back to life in a series of identical bodies but with radically different personalities and haircuts (this is eventually explained, but I’m not going to spoil it for you). It’s premise is demented, it’s surprisingly well-choreographed and its soundtrack is an aphrodisiac for your ears. Also, Tim Roth is in it, so that’s just yer seal of quality right there. It came out to a lot of fanfare and many, many cinema trailers back in the day and was then promptly forgotten about as soon as it launched. So I’m dragging it kicking and screaming back into the limelight. It’s on Netflix right now, so go watch it. I rate it a solid 11 out of 15 creepy duplicates of Tim Roth.

5. Upgrade Another lesser-known film about a cyborg. Unlike Henry, however, this cyborg’s life doesn’t so much ‘rock’ as ‘suck balls’. He gets crippled and then ends up with a sentient computer chip in his head that allows him to remote-control his own body despite not having a working spine anymore. Naturally, his experimental tech attracts the attention of some unsavoury characters and he and his brain-chip have to work together to figure out what’s going on, often through a series of ultra-violent, gory fight-scenes that horrify the protagonist himself. Of course, all might be well, except that the head-chip is a homicidal little shit that clearly has its own agenda. I give it at least 0000 0111 out of 0000 1001 painstakingly restored vintage kill-bots.

6. The Tick The Tick isn’t as overlooked as everything else on this list, especially since there have been a couple of previous televised incarnations of the franchise to lay the groundwork. However, I still feel like the modern iteration doesn’t quite get the love it deserves, so I’m throwing it out here. Following the adventures a mad, amnesiac and possibly stupid superhero and his neurotic sidekick, The Tick explores a world where superheroes aren’t the paragons of good from classic comics, the corrupt psychotics of The Boys or Watchmen, or the eternally struggling, walking moral life-lessons of modern cinema. Instead, they’re just ordinary people operating at various levels of competence/incompetence and mental illness and working within a bureaucratic, wildly inefficient framework. That might not sound like a recipe for a successful TV series, but it really is. Drawing out the mundane, human side of heroes and villains against the backdrop of cataclysmic, civilisation-threatening events makes for infinitely compelling and very, very funny viewing. It’s kind of doing for the superhero genre what Futurama did for sci-fi a few years back. It’s also where the phrase and/or popular song ‘seven billion monkeys boiling in the void’ comes from. My rating is four out of five sapient, homosexual boats (which will make sense when you watch it).

7. The Void Amid the high-budget horror extravaganzas of recent years, it’s easy to forget about the void, which feels like the best story H.P. Lovecraft never wrote and looks like David Chronenberg tried to adapt a Heironimous Bosch painting... in the ‘80s. The actual plot concerns a group of people getting trapped in a hospital by murderous cultists and discovering dark secrets and, arguably, a whole other dimension in its basement. You’re not exactly there for the plot though: The Void is a mood-piece and an exercise in visual FX craftsmanship. You’re there to drink in the atmosphere and see what each new cosmic horror looks like. I am delighted to award it ten out of ten unspeakable whisperers in the darkness. That’s enough for two barbershop quartets, an emcee and a supporting act.

8. Happy Death Day It’s Groundhog Day but as a horror film starring a really annoying lass in her late teens has to keep dying horribly until she learns to stop being such a terrible person... and also kill her murderer with a little help from her newly-minted, non-cunty friend. There’s a sequel that I haven’t seen yet, but the original is a low-key, oft-overlooked delight. I give it 9 out of 11 suspiciously similar corpses.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #films #tv shows #movies #Mandy #Baby Driver #Nightflyers #The Tick #The Void #Tick #happy death day #Upgrade

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misora-reiki · 5 years

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Caligula EPISODE: Mizuguchi Marie ~The World She Saw~

Tune 0: Prologue

Part 2: Recollections of the Past ~Mizuguchi Marie

Masterpost

Previous Part

Things came up so I couldn’t update this for quite some time, but I’m back with part 2! Once again, please support Caligula by purchasing a copy of the novel for yourself and get a copy of Overdose if you can!

…Why.

She felt like she was in the middle of darkness for an eternity, it moaned like it was some kind of curse.

(What’s this even?)

This was a curse where no one can hear her.

Because her body won’t listen to what she told it. Forget her voice, she couldn’t even move a finger.

(Damn it… You gotta be kidding me!)

She lost the will to spew poison in the black swirling vortex.

(No way, is this some kind of divine punishment? Stupid. Are you an idiot!? After all, such a stupid thing, it’s impossible… Isn’t it strange!? Why! Why, I’m…I’m!!)

She wanted to vomit.

Again and again.

However, her empty internal organs just caused her body to go through convolutions, with the increasing nausea that doesn’t disappear at all.

This was aggravating. There wasn’t any kind of resistance against this absurdity, a just aggravation.

(First off, what’s this place?)

She remembered up until she fell from the pedestrian overpass. But, the next moment, she was in this darkness unable to move.

(Because of them…)

In the darkness, she had no sense of time. Days, months, perhaps even years may have passed.

If she could lose herself, maybe it would be a little easier. But, no matter how long she waited, there were no such signs of that happening. However, she didn’t think it would kill her more. Within her, grudge boiled up, this vortex of resentment was her life’s obsession.

(If it’s not them…!)

At that moment.

In the darkness, she appeared.

“I found you! You, are you Wicked?”

Because it happened so suddenly, it took her a moment to notice the strange figure.

“μ…”

Pure white twin-tails, pure white costume.

The speech composition software character which sings user inputted data. It was the appearance of μ, the virtual idol.

“…Eh, I didn’t know. Demons have an appearance like this.”

Until then, none of her cursing was to make a sound, but her voice came out smoothly.

“That’s wrong. I’m not a demon, I’m μ!”

“You’re an idiot, huh?”

She spat out, clicking her tongue.

(If she’s not a demon, then I don’t know why she would have this kind of sparkly appearance.)

Even humans aren’t idiots to that extent. She was a veteran to the many techniques of coaxing and pressing, knowing that if she took the invitation, she would ruin herself, she wouldn’t be so easily ensnared.

Fascinatingly, she doesn’t resist and gives in.

So, demons are truly more beautiful than angels. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be logical.

“…So? What do you want from me? In any case, why do you even know my name?”

“I’m looking for the Doll-Ps who used to entertain people together with me!”

“Haa?”

“I want you to make a lot of songs!”

“What a joke. No way.”

Certainly, she made a lot of songs, wrote lyrics, and made μ sing it.

But, being ordered by someone else was something she’d refuse.

“Don’t say something like that, please? Please?

“Shut up.”

“I really need songs that attract a lot of people. Come with me to Mobius, please! This way!”

“Mobius…?”

As Marie tilted her head at the unfamiliar word, the demon nodded with a smile without any cloudiness.

“There’s nothing bad there; it’s a gentle world filled with happiness. A place where all your wishes can come true.”

She wasn’t an idiot, but her thoughts sprung out of her mouth unintentionally.

“Anything?”

“That’s right, anything.”

“I’ve heard of that story. You’ll grant three of my wishes that I say, right?”

“You have three wishes?”

Staring puzzled as the demon tilted her head and laughed.

“Three, four as well! Making wishes come true is easy.”

This thing definitely was a demon. Or perhaps a fairy that likes causing mischief by innocently doing bad things.

(Ridiculous.)

There’s no way it could be something like this.

(Who’s finally gone mad? Me.)

This thing, it had to be an illusion produced by her repressed brain.

(But…this was just right for killing time)

Even if it’s just an illusion, it must have been a long time since she was able to talk to someone else. Anyway, she wanted to annoy the carefree face in front of her a little bit.

Since she was imprisoned in this place for such a long time.

“That kind of thing, there’s no way you can.”

“I can, it’s true.”

μ said this, with a friendly laugh.

(Annoying.)

Even the illusion I created defies me.

“Hmm, yeah, that’s totally true.”

μ tilted her head in that annoying gesture.

“Hey, what will get you to believe me?”

“Shut up.”

“But I want you to come to Mobius.”

“You’re a stubborn bitch!” [She doesn’t actually say bitch, but in terms of English context, you know, same feel. It’s harsh.]

She flinched when that curse was thrown out in such a violent way. But,

“But, umm…please.”

She didn’t give up. She refused to back down.

“If it’s as you say, then prove it.

“Prove it…?”

“You can say whatever you like with your mouth. If you request something of someone else, you should first show your sincerity. Before I give my wish, show me what you can do.

Let’s see…first, give me a body with no physical defects that can move freely. In this kind of place, if I’m trapped and can’t move, well, it’s not worth considering.”

“Eh? Are you okay with that?”

The demon extended its beautiful hand and laughed.

“You can already stand and walk – look.”

As she said that, she took the girl’s hand.

(My hands…exist.)

In this darkness where she had nothing but her thoughts, she faintly made out her thin pale hand.

(It’s my hand.)

When she put force into her fingers, she could feel the same force against μ. When she kicked in the darkness, she felt the sensation of falling forward, and in a panic, μ tried to support her.

The parts that overlapped where soft, like a fluffy warm sensation.

(What’s with this sickening feeling!)

μ unintentionally let out a huge laugh, that was quickly swallowed by the space.

Then, μ started to worry about the chance that she had offended the girl.

(Being in this place is already more than I can take.)

Being in hell would be better than here.

“Hey, you said you’d believe me!”

The demon had a smile as she laughed.

That’s why the girl laughed as well.

“…Alright then. I’ll believe you.”

“Really? Well.”

“Yeah. I’ll go with you to Mobius… It’s a promise. Right?”

Next Part (TBU)

#caligula #caligula effect #caligula overdose #カリギュラ #caligula episode #mizuguchi marie the world she saw #turtle speed translations

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livingthroughchoices-blog · 6 years

Text

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 8: A Waltz to Remember)

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Author’s notes: Hey guys! Sorry for the late hour, as I told that lovely anon who asked when the next chapter was coming, school has been crazy! But better late than never! As with the previous chapter, thanks to everyone for reading (and especially to those of you who comment, you keep me going!) and a huge thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat and @notoriouscs for asking me to tag them! I hope y’all like it!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5206

Maxwell had come into Drake’s room earlier than he would’ve liked.

“What are you doing here?” Drake groaned, still half asleep.

“I just wanted to hang out.”

“Hang out?! I hate you right now.”

“Aw, come on! I feel like I almost didn’t see you yesterday... I’m sorry, by the way, about the Savannah thing...”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” replied Drake hurriedly, eager to change the subject, “it’s water under the bridge.”

“Drake, I’m serious.” Maxwell did look serious, uncharacteristically so, as he looked Drake directly in the eye. “I’m really sorry. If it makes you feel any better I’m sure wherever she is, she’s doing okay.”

“Well, you can’t know that but thanks for trying anyway,” Drake sighed and sat up on his bed.

“I’m glad Riley went after you.”

“Actually...” Drake hesitated, “so am I.”

“Oh really?” Maxwell held back a smile. “That’s interesting. If I remember correctly you didn’t even want her to come here in the first place.”

“Can you blame me?! She seemed so...” Drake struggled to explain or even remember why he hadn’t wanted Riley here, but it seemed like he’d thought so years ago. “But now she’s so...”

He looked down at his hands, searching for words that could define what he thought about her now without going overboard, but his brain appeared to be stuck on “amazing”. He chose to make a helpless hand gesture instead, hoping Maxwell wouldn’t dwell on his non-phrases.

Of course, Maxwell preferred to dwell on something else.

“So I guess what you’re saying is... I was... right?” His delighted grin only grew as he saw Drake’s horrified expression. “Admit I have good ideas, come on, say it.”

“I will not.”

“Pleeease?”

“Fine, you had one good idea.”

“Nope, it has to be ideas, plural. As in, including Club Sub.”

“Don’t do this to me,” said Drake weakly.

“Do it, or I’ll tell Riley and Hana about that time you danced to Hayley Rose on the table at a Beaumont Bash.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I have video.”

“You have good – nay – great ideas, Maxwell,” said Drake solemnly.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Maxwell clapped him in the back and sat down beside him. “I saw you talking to Lady Kiara yesterday, what’s going on there?”

“Nothing’s going on!”

“Drake, remember what I said the other day, not everyone–”

“Wants chocolate, I know, but it’s not just that. I... guess I’m not sure how much I like Lady Kiara as a person, y’know? I mean, she’s fine, she’s always nice to me but I don’t feel as comfortable around her; not like I feel with A– Uh, w-with you, or Liam.” He cleared his throat.

Maxwell wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “Drake, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get the hell out so I can get ready for the stupid ball.”

“Sure!” said Maxwell with his usual enthusiasm, still looking pleased. “See you there!”

Drake was left to ponder the fact that he’d almost said “Addams” just then.

After trying and failing to clear his mind in the shower, he decided to allow himself a few minutes to think about that before moving on.

Dude, why are you so freaked out? You feel comfortable with Addams, well, duh! She wore you down! She’s always around, being annoying with her stupid teasing, and her nosiness, and her wanting to help people and cheer them up, and wanting to make sure you were okay yesterday...

He’d put his shirt on inside out.

There was a knock on his door for the second time that day.

“Uh, come in.” He hurriedly put his shirt on right as Liam came into his room.

“Oh, hey, man.”

“Hi, Drake.”

“What’s up? I barely saw you yesterday.”

“Yes and, in fact, that is what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“I noticed you spent quite some time with Lady Riley yesterday.”

“Oh. Um, yeah I, uh, I guess I did.” Drake rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilty for no good reason.

“Well, I just wanted to thank you.”

“Listen, Liam, I– Wait, thank me?”

“Yes, of course, I know you don’t approve of her, but I appreciate you watching out for her and keeping her entertained while I fulfill my duties.”

“Right, sure. You’re,” Drake swallowed, “welcome. And I don’t disapprove of her anymore, you know? I actually think she’d make a decent enough queen.” He felt his mouth grimace of its own accord when he said that, but Liam didn’t appear to notice.

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Liam’s eyes were dreamy and a small smile lit up his face. “I just wish I could spend more time with her.”

“Yeah, well, duty first and all that.”

“Yes... but it shouldn’t be. Drake, you’ve made up my mind. From tomorrow’s event on, I have resolved to spend as much time with Lady Riley as I can get away with without slighting the other suitors,” he said giddily.

“Great. That is a-a great idea, Liam. I’m glad you decided that. So glad! I won’t even have to keep spending time with her, ha ha. Well, this has been great, but I think I’m gonna take a walk. See you at the dance, buddy!”

Drake hurried out of his room like he was being chased.

After exploring the chateau, followed by a long walk filled with nothing but silence occasionally interrupted by the sounds of nature, Drake was feeling much better.

Damn, this place is not good for me.

He looked at his phone and cursed under his breath; he needed to get back for the stupid ball. As he walked, he got a text from Bastien saying, “Bought photos back. Still working on culprit. Talk to you soon, Bastien.”

He texted back, “Great news! I’ll see you tomorrow. And you don’t have to sign your texts.”

He felt his phone vibrate, “Got it, thanks, Bastien.”

He chuckled as he pocketed it before entering the ballroom.

He automatically walked to the table farthest from the dance floor; he knew Olivia well enough by now. He was followed by a frantic usher, intent on showing him his seat. The usher seemed like he might cry if Drake didn’t let him show him the seating chart, so he turned and heard him say exactly what he knew he would: he was in the very back of the ballroom.

He slumped down in a chair. He knew this was coming every time, more so when Olivia was involved, and yet it still stung. Mostly because sitting here severely undercut his ability to enjoy himself. The food would be inedible – if they even served him any – and the company would be–

Addams is coming to my table.

Her snowy gown sparkled in the soft light of the ballroom, and yet it didn’t outshine her; if anything, she looked even more luminous by comparison. He was pretty sure his mouth was open, so he carefully arranged it into a casual smirk.

Damn, if she doesn’t look amazing.

Oh, and Hana’s here, too.

He definitely wasn’t going to get hung up on the fact that it took him a full minute to register that Hana, an objectively beautiful woman, was even there.

“Welcome to the table of exiles.”

Riley grinned. “Drake? I’m actually glad to see you.” He managed to avoid saying something in disbelief, but it was a close call. “And here I was worried that we’d be stuck with some stuffy nobles.” He smirked more widely and pulled out the chair next to him for her.

"It’s probably meant to be an even bigger slight that we’re with a commoner,” sighed Hana. Drake had almost forgotten she was there.

And what a lovely reminder.

He looked fixedly at his empty plate but out of the corner of his eye caught Riley shooting Hana a disapproving look.

She sat down next to him and put her hand on his arm, which was resting on the table. “Well, Olivia really missed the mark this time.”

Drake tried to control his smile, but it was futile. “Thanks, Addams. That actually means something, coming from you.”

They held each other’s gaze until Hana’s chair scraped the floor as she pulled it out. They both turned to look at her.

“Drake, you don’t seem bothered at all to be seated in the back.” She seemed to be trying to make small talk to make up for her earlier blunder. Drake decided to let it slide.

“What can I say? After enough years of being treated like this, you build up a thick skin.”

Or at least you pretend to.

“Besides, back here? Out of the spotlight? At least we can relax.” He turned to look at Riley at this last part with a playful smile, which she returned.

Waiters had started bringing the food out and the room was suddenly filled with delicious smells that were wafting from the bowls they were carrying. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but his mouth was watering already.

Too bad we won’t even get to try it.

As if hearing his thoughts, Hana said, “The food looks amazing. I hope they serve us soon! I’m starving!”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” he informed her. “Where we’re seated, we’ll be the last to eat. If there’s even any left by the time they get to us.”

“But... the lobster bisque... do you really think we’ll go hungry?” Hana pouted.

Riley, who had looked outraged when he explained they were likely not eating, got a determined look on her face. “Not if I can help it. This can’t be too different from hailing a New York taxi.”

She winked at them before getting up and approaching a passing waiter jerkily. “Hey... Please, I’m about to faint.” She put her arms on the waiter’s chest, as if she couldn’t support her weight. “I need food.”

Drake caught on to what she was doing and instinctively got up from his chair. Hana was watching fascinatingly.

“I haven’t eaten all day, I...” Riley slowly crumpled backwards. Drake yelled, “Hey!” louder than he intended and threw himself forward, catching her just before she hit the ground.

Riley kept going, like a pro, “Please... food...”

The waiter looked like she was about to faint herself and hastily dropped a single bowl of bisque on their table, scurrying away before any of these crazy nobles had a chance to pull anything else.

Drake was still holding Riley. He was suddenly very aware that he could smell her sweet, fresh perfume, and that his arms, surrounding her torso, were pressing them close together. He cleared his throat and helped her to her feet.

He pulled her chair out for her and then sat down. “I can’t believe that actually worked, Addams.” He shook his head with a smile. “Just... warn me before you take a dive. Next time I might not catch you.”

She gave him a charming smile with twinkling eyes. “Oh, Drake. You know I like to keep you on your toes.”

He chuckled.

That she does.

“Well, let’s examine out riches! One piping hot bowl of lobster bisque to split three ways?” Hana passed them each a spoon.

“Let’s dig in!” Riley did a little excited dance, at which Drake rolled his eyes.

They all dipped their spoons in at the same time. The bisque was incredibly flavorful and still pleasantly warm. It was perfect for this cold weather.

Drake said what they were all thinking, “This is actually really good.”

“I’m in lobster heaven,” Hana moaned in delight.

“Solid work, Addams,” said Drake, high fiving her. She returned it so enthusiastically his hand stung, but he still grinned at her.

“Yes! Thank you, Riley! We’d be lost without you!” Hana touched Riley’s forearm and the latter put her hand over hers.

“Aw thanks guys. I’m sure the rest of the food will show up soon, anyway...”

“In the meantime, we could play a game!” Hana proposed eagerly.

“Do we have to?”

“Oh, come on, Drake, don’t be such a bummer!” Riley pushed him playfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m outnumbered. So what’s the game?”

“Two truths and a lie?” said Hana hopefully.

“I don’t know it.”

“Really? You never went to summer camp or something like that?” asked Riley. “Wait, don’t answer that, you can use it for the game. It’s really simple: you tell us two truths and one lie about yourself and then we have to guess which is the lie.”

“Got it. You start, Hana.”

“Oh, um, okay. I am an award-winning horseback rider, I am an award-winning painter and I am an award-winning skater.”

Drake and Riley turned to look at each other and burst out laughing.

“Seriously?!” Riley asked between laughs. “That’s impossible! You’re an award-winning everything! Are you sure you remembered to lie?”

Hana giggled, “I’m not! I did tell a lie! Now, guess.”

Drake and Riley’s laughs subsided and they looked at each other thoughtfully.

“I’ve seen you skate and I’m pretty sure there has to be a freaking move named after you so that’s not a lie... I’m gonna say you’re not a horseback rider, because painting seems more... you,” Drake guessed.

“Drake, Drake, Drake,” said Riley, mimicking Drake’s pitying head shakes from yesterday, “that’s where you’re wrong. You, my friend, are underestimating Hana. I think you are a skater and a horseback rider.”

“Ding, ding, ding! Riley’s right!”

Drake groaned while Riley cheered.

“Come on, Drake, painting is clearly a more recreational activity! I was obviously not allowed to practice it as much.”

“Right... obviously.”

“Okay, your turn,” Hana chirped.

“Wait! Before we go on: Drake, how would you feel about making things more interesting?” Riley arched an eyebrow at him.

“Triple or nothing?”

“You know it.”

“Two out of three of Hana’s.”

“Yep. And you’re already losing.”

Drake glared at her. “All right, here we go. I used to be scared of clowns...” Riley sniggered at this. “Used to,” Drake emphasized. “I was a Boy Scout and... my first concert was Hayley Rose.”

“What!” Riley snorted.

“Shut up,” Drake said, laughing along with her.

“Well that’s definitely true. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it weren’t. For the record, no judgment here.”

“Nor from me,” piped up Hana. “Mainly because... I don’t know her music.” They laughed harder then, and Riley promised to show her the best Hayley Rose songs and tell her the grisly details of her life.

“Right, so I don’t think you were ever scared of clowns, Drake. I can’t imagine you not being cynical even as a child,” shrugged Hana.

“Once again, I am the best at this game. Clearly Drake didn’t use to be afraid of clowns... he never stopped!” said Riley dramatically. “You were never a Boy Scout.”

Drake sighed, “As much as it pains me to say this... Addams is right. About the second part, I’m not afraid of clowns anymore.”

“Sure you’re not,” Riley replied with a sly smile.

“Your turn, wise guy,” said Drake.

“Okay, here goes. My favorite food is sushi, I went to a Hayley Rose concert too, and I had never been outside the US before this.”

“Easy, you’d never left the US.”

Riley gave Drake a curious look. “And why do you say that?”

He shrugged, “I know how hard it can be to travel for us commoners.”

“I disagree. I think Riley is very cultured.”

“Oh, ‘cause a commoner can’t be cultured?”

“Drake, that’s not what I–”

“Okaaay, what’s your guess, Hana?” Riley interrupted, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I don’t think your favorite food is sushi.”

“But it is! Sorry, Hana, Drake’s right. This is my first time out of the US!”

“Oh! Well, I never would have guessed, you’ve handled it really well...”

Drake let the conversation fade out until it was Hana’s turn again. After a few more turns, Hana had beat them both, but Drake had beat Riley, which was all that mattered.

“Quadruple or nothing, Drake.”

Drake laughed and before he could answer, Hana let out a sigh, “Wow... the service here is terrible.”

“All by design,” he replied. As soon as he’d stopped laughing, his hunger had caught up with him... and it brought his temper along.

“Even if it’s on purpose, at least it’s not the worst service I’ve had,” started Hana.

“You’ve had worse service than this?” asked Riley, her eyes bugging out.

“Believe it or not, I’ve been to a wedding where food wasn’t served until midnight. They got hideously behind schedule and decided to do an open call for speeches before dinner. It took hours!”

“Oh, heavens!” exclaimed Drake in a high-pitched voice. He knew that was unnecessarily rude, but she started it with the whole commoner thing and he was hungry; personally, he felt he was doing an admirable job of keeping it together.

Riley disagreed. She shot him a reproachful look, “Drake.”

He chose to ignore her. “I can tell you a real horror story. Let’s set the scene. Casual get-together. Lots of people I don’t know, but that’s fine. There’s a bar, man’s true best friend. So I figure I’ll grab a drink. I go up to the bar, and they’re out of whiskey!” He looked at them both in turn, trying to convey the horror.

Riley rolled her eyes. “Drake, I could use some whiskey now.”

She might have been referring to how stupid his story was, but Drake decided to take it as agreement. "Now you’re speaking my language. But these dinners usually only come with some fancy wine and champagne.”

“And I have a feeling that we’d be lucky to even get water at this point,” frowned Hana.

“It’s too bad we probably won’t see a real drink at dinner. From what I’ve seen, Olivia’s got quite a stash,” shared Drake, remembering the cavernous cellar he’d found before taking his walk outside.

“From what you’ve seen?” Hana raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I did some exploring, and I happened to stumble across her wine cellar.”

“Really?” Riley’s eyes widened; she seemed excited by the idea.

Encouraged, Drake continued, “Yeah. It’s pretty impressive, actually, and not a bad place to get away from all of this for awhile.” Before his brain caught up with his mouth, he found himself saying, “Why don’t you join me there for a drink tonight, Addams? If you’re not afraid of sneaking out after hours...”

As Riley opened her mouth to answer, a waiter dropped off two more bowls of bisque. Despite her silence, Drake didn’t think she was the type to back down from a challenge, or so he hoped.

I have a bad feeling about this. If she says no, it’s gonna suck, and if she says yes... Whatever, I’m doing this for Liam after all, keeping her entertained and all that stuff he said. Plus, he said he’s gonna spend more time with her starting tomorrow so this is the last time I gotta do this.

He suddenly didn’t feel that hungry anymore.

“There’s no lobster in my bowl. It’s just... bisque. This is the saddest soup I’ve ever seen.” Hana sounded almost like she pitied the food.

For once, Drake wholeheartedly agreed, “I’m not usually one to complain about free food, but this is ice cold compared to what we had earlier. Which means Olivia did this on purpose.”

He had a few more spoonfuls before deciding he really couldn’t stomach any more. “At least we got to have a taste of the real meal, thanks to Riley’s quick thinking!” He shook her shoulder affectionately.

Riley slapped his hand away and took a bow. “And we know that Olivia’s intentionally screwing with us.”

As if summoned, Olivia’s voice came high and clear from the dance floor; Drake tuned out most of her little speech, but the gist was it was time for the waltz.

Hana looked devastated. “But we haven’t finished eating!

Drake grimaced sympathetically. If there’s something he could bond over, it was disliking Olivia Nevrakis. “I don’t think she cares.”

“Well...” Riley stood up and extended both arms towards Drake and Hana, respectively, “let’s do this.”

Hana grabbed her hand, looking a lot happier than before, and stood up. When Drake didn’t do the same, she asked, “Aren’t you joining us, Drake?”

At that moment, Drake couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to know that stupid waltz.

Who the hell am I right now?

“Waltzing isn’t my thing. I’ll be here with the... food,” he finished awkwardly. Riley shrugged, frowning a little, while Hana waved goodbye before heading to the dance floor.

Hana went off to dance with some lord Drake couldn’t place, and Riley paired up with Maxwell. He supposed at this point, he shouldn’t be surprised that Riley went through the waltz practically flawlessly, in spite of it being her first time dancing it. He still shook his head in astonishment. Is she good at everything?

The waltz was over sooner than he’d expected. The music lulled and there was a noise – softer than a gasp, more like a collective intake of breath. He searched the dance floor for the cause of the noise and saw Olivia kissing Liam. Before he even knew what he was doing – or why, for that matter – he had found Riley’s face in the crowd. She looked stricken. Other than that, she didn’t react much, but it was enough.

He stormed out.

How dare Liam do this?! How does he go from being all googly-eyed over Addams, to fucking her over like this? He keeps going on about duty, but I doubt his duties include exchanging spit with fucking Chucky over there. How do you even choose Olivia over Addams anyway? It’s a no-brainer.

He realized his body had taken him to his room while his mind was busy railing against Liam. He snatched a bottle of whiskey from his bag and went down to the wine cellar.

After pouring himself a drink and taking a few sips, he’d calmed down enough to recognize that Liam had almost definitely not initiated or even encouraged the kiss. It wasn’t really his fault... for the most part. Yet he still felt irritated.

That face she made... I guess I don’t want Addams to be disappointed. She deserves better.

He heard footsteps coming downstairs.

Speak of the Devil.

His stomach did a weird flip.

It’s probably ‘cause I didn’t end up eating much.

Riley poked her head around the corner. She saw him and grinned, that mischievous look in her eyes, and walked the rest of the way down.

“There you are, Addams. I was beginning to think you didn’t have the guts to show. Y’know, breaking the rules, out after curfew and all that.”

For a second, she looked like she was going to say something snarky, her hand on her hip; then she dropped it and softened her smile. “Actually, I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

It was like Drake got the wind knocked out of him.

Who says that? Is that what friends say?

He felt the stupidest grin spread across his face. “Aw, come on, Addams. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Riley smirked, “Now that I’d like to see.”

Drake tried not to think about how close she’d already come to seeing it and changed the subject, “So, what’re you drinking?”

“What’ve you got?”

“Nothing yet. It seems like Olivia has a very extensive collection of fine Cordonian wines. I’m no expert, but from the names I recognize, nothing in here’s under a thousand dollars!”

Riley got that rule-breaking twinkle in her eyes again, “You want to drink Olivia’s wine? Pass me a bottle! She’s got so many bottles here, she’ll probably never even notice!”

As much as Drake loved that idea, and loved that she came up with it, he didn’t want her to get in trouble. Olivia was already unpleasant to her, to say the least. “Before you pop something open, I also brought a bottle of whiskey down for myself... but I’d share it with you. So pick your poison.”

Riley didn’t hesitate, “Whiskey.”

Drake nodded approvingly and poured her and himself a glass. They were about to clink glasses when Riley said, “Wait, we have to make eye contact, otherwise it’s 7 years of bad sex.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t make the rules.”

“You literally just did.”

“Fine, if you wanna risk it that’s on you, but I’m gonna look you in the eye, got it?”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” grumbled Drake. “This is stupid, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for saving your sex life.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses while looking fixedly into each other’s eyes, both smiling at first. They gradually got serious and the silence seemed to become loaded. Drake was the first to look away.

“So,” said Riley a little awkwardly. “You came down to the wine cellar to drink whiskey? Doesn’t that seem a little silly?”

Drake shrugged, “I came down here to get a little commoner time by myself where I don’t have to bow and kiss hands for a few minutes.”

“Drake, if you hate the nobility so much, why do you stick around?”

Funnily enough, no one had ever asked him that question. He stalled, “It must seem ridiculous to you.”

Riley put her hand on her hip. “To be honest, it seems like you complain a lot for getting a free ride.”

Drake’s mouth dropped. He knew a lot of people thought that, hell, some even said it to his face, but they did it to hurt him, not because they were being honest.

“That’s...” He laughed a little, “I guess that’s kind of true... I would’ve left a long time ago, but Liam needs me. I know he’s got nobles and courtiers all around him, but most of them would stab him in the back if they thought they could profit from it. I’ve seen so many underhanded moves that I don’t trust any of them anymore.” He remembered the stupid tabloid pictures and the practically nonexistent likelihood that they were being sold by a stranger. “And these are from our friends! And this latest one...”

“What happened?” Riley asked, concern lacing her voice.

I need to learn to shut up. Especially around Addams.

“I... I’m not sure I should tell you. It’s still being resolved.”

“You’re always saying I need to watch out... it’d be nice to actually know what for.”

Again, she hit the nail on the head. It was only fair. “You remember Liam’s bachelor party?”

“Of course.”

“We found out that someone close to us that night was trying to sell pictures to the tabloids.”

Riley’s eyes widened, incredulous. “But who? Who would do that?”

Drake frowned. “We haven’t tracked down the source yet, but I just got a message from Bastien that we were able to buy the photos back before they were printed.”

Riley tilted her head. “Call me crazy, but I don’t remember anything scandalous happening...”

“You know how the tabloids are.” Drake shook his head. “A picture with a drink in his hand, and suddenly the crown prince of Cordonia is on a drunken rager. And then there’s pictures of the two of you together.”

“What? But we weren’t...” Riley trailed off, blushing.

“The two of you were talking, and he was clearly interested in you. That’s enough for them to speculate on. What was the headline the tabloid was going to run? ‘Prince Liam’s Drunken Fling Before the Ring!’”

Riley put her hand over her mouth. “And you have no idea who would do this?”

“Not really. There are a lot of people who would be desperate for those photos... I just hope it wasn’t one of the guys. The pictures they had... Those would’ve been hard to take unless that person were someone close to us...”

If anything good was going to come out of this mess, he was relieved that Riley was probably going to be more cautious. She said, “Drake, I’ll watch out.” And touched his arm reassuringly.

“Good. Money and power make people do crazy things, Addams. I just don’t want to see you get hurt because of it,” he said earnestly.

She gave him a soft smile, touched that he cared, “Drake...”

“I mean, sometimes, I look at you... and I see this wide-eyed baby deer who just stumbled into the hunter’s campsite.” He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing with everything that could go wrong.

He was interrupted by Riley saying, “A baby deer? So you think I’m cute?” She gave him a teasing smile.

The honest answer was yes, he’d literally thought that yesterday, but he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. His brain jammed, “That’s not what I... er...”

Riley bit her lip to keep from laughing as she paced in front of him, “My, my, seems like for once you’re speechless.”

“Your unique talent, Addams, seems to be putting me in my place.”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

Drake laughed loudly. When she joined in, the sound of her laughter sobered him up and he looked at her with intensity. “What is it about you? You’re so frustrating, but...”

“But?”

I keep coming back. I want more.

He was terrified.

He shook his head, “Forget it. How about a toast, instead?” He raised his glass towards her.

“What’re we toasting to?”

He thought about it. How could he explain what this little getaway – their last one – meant to him without saying something stupid? “To the moments in between.”

“Huh?”

“All the nobles think about are the big events. The grand balls, the press appearances, the banquets...” He thought about Liam and his face fell for a split second. He used to spend moments like this with him a lot more often. He couldn’t help but feel that, despite all of his wealth and upbringing, he was missing out on a lot.

“They don’t even realize that the moments that matter the most are all the ones they’re missing. Moments like right now, just the two of us and some cheap whiskey. The ones that really mean something.” It was too late to take it back, but he didn’t want to be presumptuous; for all he knew, she had nothing better to do or just wanted whiskey. “At least, it means something to me, anyway.”

She was much closer than he’d realized. She looked up at him and said, so sincerely, “Drake, it means something to me too.”

Wordlessly, they raised they glasses and clinked them. This time looking each other in the eye not because of superstition, but because they wanted to.

As they brought their respective glasses to their lips, Drake said, “To the moments in between.”

They finished their drink and Drake looked at his phone. He should go. He was glad he’d made their last moment in between a good one, at least.

“Now, it’s getting late, and I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Riley gave him a small smile, “That’s so thoughtful of you.”

“I’m a gentleman, even if not one by birth.” He bowed at her and smiled back. “G’night, Addams.”

“Good night, Drake.”

#trr #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #pb #fanfic #ch 8 #the marshmallow chronicles #b99 reference again bc it's amazing and Bastien gives me Holt vibes #long post

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feelingsdusk-writes · 6 years

Text

Runes and all kinds of things

Chapter 1

It's a sound that penetrates the fog first. At first it comes as if from afar, muffled and without a discernible pattern, then the sound gradually develops into a constant beep and it's volume grows until it becomes an annoyance that forces him to make the effort to pry his eyelids open to localize its source.

Waking up to the discovery of an E.T. tube inside his throat is not a situation Stiles is eager to experience ever again. Period. He thinks the only reason he doesn't start gagging and choking on it immediately is that the action requires an energy that he can't spare right now because he needs it to keep himself awake... Or another valid explanation would be that he’s doped to his ears, since his vision is fuzzy around the edges (or everywhere really) and he knows that’s not normal by any means.

He absently identifies the source of the constant beep as an electrocardiograph that he wishes would stop because it feels as if each beep is steadily rising in volume towards perforating his eardrums, but the machine is too far away to reach it and he can't muster the will to raise his arm anyway. Speaking of said arm, there's an I.V. drip tube connected to it if the bags he's spotted are any indication, and he really doesn’t want to look where it's hooked into his arm. He hates needles even more than he hates hospitals and that's saying something, because every time he has to step into one (and especially anywhere near the psychiatric ward), he feels the anxiety building inside him slowly but steadily, until he thinks he won't be able to breathe.

It's really, really, good that he's stoned right now, or an anxiety attack would be rearing its ugly head at the thought of being stuck here with, by the looks of it, no possibility of leaving any time soon.

Something twitches in his hand, averting his line of thought. There’s a hand grasping his loosely and it takes a titanic effort to will his eyes to look in that direction. His heart constricts at the sight of his father’s haggard appearance, all worry lines and sunken eyes with a dark purple under them that speaks of many sleepless nights. His hair looks a little bit matted too and his clothes rumpled even if mostly clean. There's a little coffee stain on his dad's left breast and a plastic cup is halfway squeezed in the hand that isn't grasping Stiles'. How many days have passed?

Try as he might, he can’t even begin to guess... and to be honest, he doesn't give a damn right now. He's alive, his dad's alive, and Gerard is not. That's all he cares about right now.

He's not in denial or in shock. He remembers the second of stupefaction right after being shot, then feeling nothing as he fought for the gun, then the jarring surge of white-hot pain after shooting Gerard and after everything (including, as he guesses now, his adrenaline) came crashing down. He remembers the dark satisfaction of seeing Gerard's wide unseeing eyes and his prone body as a pool of blood formed fascinatingly quick under the old man's head. He remembers that the tiles had felt incredibly cold when he fell after his legs couldn't stand his own weight anymore, but also how they had warmed up barely a moment after. He remembers laying on the Argent's kitchen floor with Allison pressing on his wound with that pale pink rag that was turning red stupidly fast and he couldn't stop looking at it for some reason he can't understand now, his own pool of blood growing significantly slower than Gerard's but steadily so. He remembers so many things of those traumatizing moments, so many crystal clear details, but he just doesn't care about anything of that right now.

And that’s a good thing because if he starts to dwell on the things that have happened on the last few days he may entertain the idea of killing Scott… Well, maybe not that... if only for the sake of old times.

His dad must have felt him stir because he wakes up with a start, almost choking with the sharp intake of air he takes in relief when he sees his son awake and cognizant. Has Stiles woken up before and he doesn't remember it? John squeezes his hand and Stiles tries to squeeze back when he notices the small tremor that makes his dad's free hand shake when he reaches to pull his own fringe back before letting it rest on Stiles' forehead. The sight makes his stomach clench. Nothing can make this moment worse.

“Werewolves, Stiles?”

He starts choking with the E.T. tube almost instantly and the next thing he knows nurses are rushing in to pull it out, though it seems that they debate putting him under again for precious moments in which Stiles just hates everything.

He’s going to kill Scott.

Afterwards, he gives his father the truth he wants. Part of him is relieved at finally being able to do so, to be open about everything and not having to spew more lies and defections than actual words. The other part of him, the one that has endured for the sake of keeping his only remaining family safe, is terrified to the core of the consequences this will bring.

——–

So it seems to more or less have gone like the following, and excuse him if he's not in the mood to feel charitable or understanding about the whole thing at the moment.

Apparently while Stiles had been busy busting his ass with Scott’s control issues, being traumatized by having to watch the kanima kill somebody, saving a very vocally ungrateful Derek from drowning while said kanima tried to kill them, helping keep Scott’s grades at least on a passing level apart from not letting his own drop and dealing with his father’s distrustfulness and disappointment; Scott had gone behind his back to make a deal with the devil himself for whatever reasons he had thought to justify his betrayal (maybe getting back on Allison’s good graces or finding a cure, who knows?) at the moment, if he even thought about the whole situation in those terms, the self-centered oblivious little shit. But, moving on, if he understood Scott's ramblings well (and there's a possibility of him misinterpreting them, he was, after all, losing a lot of blood and going into shock), he had a plan that involved using Derek or something like that? And a failsafe in case everything else failed?

Obviously it hadn't worked, whatever the plan was. Gerard, of course, had decades on Scott (and to be honest Scott isn’t the sharpest tool in the box to begin with, even when the Allison factor isn't fogging his brain up) and when the moment of truth had come and Derek had been a no-show (probably because he had suspected something was fishy), he had turned the tables on him so fast that Scott had to hightail to avoid being cut in two.

Literally.

(Case in point: Laura.)

Afterwards, while Scott was panicking and thinking of a way to salvage the situation, Gerard had crept back to his basement like a bad Disney villain to continue having his fun with Stiles and to try to convince him to lure Derek to him (which still blows his mind, because he has made his dislike of their pack pretty clear even if he's stupid and grudgingly continues to help), only to find out that Stiles had been a busy little bee and had let Erica and Boyd out of their bindings. Both had tried to help but had ended up leaving Stiles to face the music alone (thanks a lot, dynamic duo, may you get fleas and stomach worms for that) and in the middle of the scuffle with grandpa, Allison herself had appeared. Of course, that was after listening in, hidden in some dark cranny, to the mandatory villain speech where the man had quite stupidly revealed all his secrets. She was understandably shocked about what was revealed (especially the part about her mom), but thankfully it changed her mind and she was therefore opposed to the idea of killing slash harming Stiles, which, awesome, less problems for him.

More fighting plus more yelling plus more guns plus china breaking plus a stupid stunt to help Allison equals a nearly dying Stiles and splattered walls that will need to be repainted. He really doesn't envy Mr. Argent the task of cleaning his own father's brains and probably some pieces of the cranium too from the adjacent cupboards. Or all that blood either, because Stiles bets that getting it from in between the tiles is going to be a bitch.

(He might be acting and feeling entirely too flippant about the whole thing, but the alternative leads to a much darker path that he'd prefer to avoid, thank you very much.)

Anyways, the icing on the cake that was already a shitshow was Scott appearing after Stiles had blown Gerard brains out (with his own gun, oh, the irony, so satisfying) with a what are you doing here?! followed by a what have you done?! after seeing Gerard’s body. Never mind that Stiles had a hole of his own in his stomach, apparently that wasn’t noteworthy? Ironies of all ironies, Allison had been the one that had finally shaken herself out of shock and remembered to call for an ambulance while Scott, after finally realizing the state he was in, had a stress induced panic attack.

Seriously, the irony, he can't stress that enough.

Derek was nowhere to be seen, Erica and Boyd were gone, Scott was having technical difficulties and Allison, try as she might (and hell, was she trying, Stiles will give her that), knew nothing of first aid, so Stiles was sure his future, if there was any, was very dark and was trying not to think that things couldn’t be worst than they already were to avoid jinxing it. So who chose to slink from the shadows at that same exact moment?

Peter.

Fuck his life.

Peter had effectively shut off Scott (by rendering him unconscious, which, yeah, he has to admit that seeing him drop like a sack of potatoes was extremely satisfying and a relief to his ears at the moment) plus snarked Allison down into some sort of compromise before Stiles could even blink, and then proceeded to sassily keep him alive long enough for his father and the ambulance to arrive.

Fuck it twice.

And before almost theatrically crawling back to the shadows from whence he came (conveniently before his father’s appearance and Scott’s return to the land of the awakened) he had proceeded to declare Stiles in his debt in the most roundabout way he could possibly find.

Where was a Molotov cocktail when you needed it?

To date, he still doesn’t know what happened with Jackson. So long as he doesn’t give them any more trouble, he doesn’t care.

—–

They get interrupted by the staff's visit, which is almost a relief for Stiles, because his throat is smarting a bit and the ice chips are only helping so much.

Stiles' main doctor is a partially white-haired blond man with a wrinkled face whose warm features and even warmer voice make him instantly comfortable, which is inexplicably surprising for him given his overall stance on hospitals and doctors. It may be helping that the man doesn't treat him like a kid or tries to keep things from him (that Stiles can tell anyway) when he explains what's going to happen in the near future and in the long run regarding his injury.

Apparently he’s been very lucky. When he struggled with Gerard he must have altered the path of the shot the man was trying to make or something because no major organs were punctured. His stomach was dangerously close to being ruptured but thankfully it wasn't, or he would have died before any help could arrive. The bullet tore only fat and muscle but since he had continued struggling for control of the gun afterwards, he had aggravated it significantly. It had been a point-blank shot that had gone through and through (apparently his dad had recovered the bullet on the Argent's stove) and it had left a stippling tattoo apart from burning him. All in all, the highest risk would had been the blood loss and the infection, except he went into shock and wouldn't stop thrashing by the time he had arrived at the hospital. He had to be sedated and then intubated when he stopped breathing. The E.T. tube had been scheduled to be taken out today regardless of whether he woke or not, because he seemed to be breathing well on his own. They'll be monitoring that just in case and Stiles is instructed to call the nurses if he has any trouble breathing again.

When the doctor leaves, they remain silent for a bit, mulling over all the information. Stiles’ father clears his throat a couple of times before telling him in no uncertain terms (hands, no, everything still trembling because the thought of having nearly lost Stiles too makes him feel sick, terrifies him) that the one that has to do the protecting there is him and after giving him a hug that nearly hurts, he also wastes no time in giving him a month’s worth of punishment for the lying and the going behind his back. Stiles doesn’t bother arguing because it will get him nowhere and because he’s too exhausted to make any good points. Never mind that they both know that Stiles wouldn't be able to go out with his injury anyway, so this punishment is as fake as they make it, a token one. His father frowns at that, because normally Stiles would argue against it anyway, just for the sake of it. John sighs and kisses him on the forehead, like he used to do before everything started going to hell, the sickness and his mom’s death and the alcohol and the long working hours and suddenly everything crashes on Stiles and he has to bite his lip to avoid babbling like a baby.

Of course Scott chooses that moment to appear at the door and to announce himself with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

Stiles promptly tells him to leave and not come back.

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#runes and all kinds of things #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf #steter

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spiral-of-berries · 6 years

Text

You can run away with me anytime you want

A03: Here!

Story Rating: T

Pairing: Amedot, mentioned jaspearl

Summary: A new neighbor moves in, Amethyst falls over a fence, stars are gazed at, makeouts are had, and everything turns out alright. Overall, it's a pretty good summer.

Tags: Human AU

When the new neighbors moved in, Amethyst couldn’t help but notice her.

Well, she’d noticed the dog first. Cute lil’ orange pup, tail wagging and tongue out. That dog had brought a grin to her face the moment she saw it rounding the corner with a zucchini, or maybe a cucumber in its mouth, running up to her and depositing it at Amethyst's feet like some grand prize. Amethyst had laughed out loud, picking up the (definitely) zucchini and giving the pup a hearty pat on the head.

Then she’d charged around the corner, huffing as she ran.

“Pumpkin!” The girl yelled, skidding to a stop on bare feet. “Don’t just run off like that, silly dog--” She looked up, and she and Amethyst locked eyes. “Oh! Hi, I’m sorry, I’m Peridot, I think we’re neighbors…?” Oh no. Oh no.

She was so cute!

Peridot kneeled down to gather up the dog, which was good because Amethyst needed some time to restart her brain. Peridot was wearing these adorable watermelon-patterned shorts, and christ her thighs--! Amethyst kept her eyes on Peridot’s face, which was at least somewhat more acceptable to stare at. The round glasses were a cute look on her.

“Yeah, yeah-- you guys just moved in, right? I saw the trucks last week. I think I met your… sister…?” Amethyst trailed off, not sure who the growly girl with the eyepatch had actually been.

Peridot made a face and stuck out her tongue.

“I apologize for whatever Sarah said or did. It’s nice to meet you, uhm--”

“Amethyst! Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Peridot smiled, a little crookedly.

“Well, it’ nice to meet you. I’ll see you around! You can keep the zucchini. You should probably wash it, though.” Peridot added, standing up. Pumpkin licked her hand, and Peridot smiled fondly down at the dog.

“Yeah,” Amethyst said, “See you around.”

“Jaaaaasppeeeeerr,” Amethyst whined, “the new neighbor is hot!”

“Didn’t know you liked eyepatches.” Jasper deadpanned, her eyes on her book. Amethyst hadn’t even known that people actually read those stupid cold war spy books until she’d moved in with her estranged sister.

“No,” Amethyst said, rolling her eyes, “she has a hot sister! And a cute dog!”

“Is that where that spaniel lives? Nice dog. Gave me a zucchini.”

“Me too, actually. Anyways, this is a crisis! ” Amethyst declared gravely.

“How so?” Jasper asked, flipping a page in her book.

“‘Cause I wanna bone her! And I’m gonna see her, like, every day ‘til school starts again! How is this not a crisis!”

“You are nineteen years old. I’m sure you can muster up the will to ask her on a date.” Jasper said plainly.

Amethyst plopped down on the couch.

“Jasper, I feel like you aren’t taking my girl emergency seriously.”

“What gives you that impression.” Jasper said, raising an eyebrow. Amethyst gently kicked her. Jasper rolled her eyes.

“Just go talk to her tomorrow. I can usually hear that dog out there, she’s probably there with ‘em.”

“So, what, I should go creep on her over the fence?” Amethyst asked.

“Make conversation with her about her weird vegetable bearing dog or something and let me read my book in peace.”

Amethyst made a hmmph noise, but found herself smiling anyways.

“Maybe I will. You want anything from the fridge?” She called as she got up. It was too damn hot, and needed a soda. Maybe a popsicle.

Jasper shook her head, and Amethyst left her sister in peace.

A couple days later, Amethyst was considering the best way to blow up an old toilet she had found without getting the cops called or bringing down Jasper’s wrath upon her. Firecrackers obviously wouldn’t be strong enough, but she might actually burn down her house if she tried to stuff the thing full of actual fireworks. Maybe Bismuth would help her haul it to a field later?

Oh, hey, there was that dog again, barking up a storm. Jasper’s advice floated through her head, and, throwing caution to the wind, Amethyst hauled herself up onto one of the lower horizontal beams of the fence, so that she was hanging halfway over the top. Pumpkin ran to greet her, and Amethyst dangled one arm down for the dog to sniff.

Then she looked up and. Peridot was gardening, kneeled down in the dirt and tugging up small plants with a spade.

In a bikini.

Fuck.

She glanced up as Pumpkin stopped barking, and Amethyst felt her whole face heat up.

“Hey,” She said, as if she wasn’t staring at her over a fence. “I heard your dog.”

Peridot laughed and stood up, brushing dirt off of her knees. Amethyst made a valiant effort at not starting. Peridot walked over and crouched to pet Pumpkin, who sat down and panted happily.

“Yeah, he hates it when I weed the garden. I think he’s scared of the hand spade. Why is that?” She directed the last bit at the dog as she scratched behind his ears.

“Watcha growin’?” Amethyst asked, considering whether leaning down to pat the dog more would make her overbalance.

“Y’know, corn, tomatoes, greenbeans.” Peridot shrugged. Amethyst glanced back at the garden patch.

“And zucchini?” She asked. Peridot’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, there’s some zucchini growing. I didn’t plant it, I think some must have just gotten left over from the last owners. It’s sort of a pain, but no use wasting a plant, I always say!” She gave a nasal little laugh that shouldn’t have made Amethyst blush.

“Is it just you that takes care of the garden?” Amethyst asked, trying to not make a total ass of herself.

“Yeah, my sister doesn't like gardening. She’ll probably tear it up once I go back to school.”

Amethyst’s ears perked up at that.

“Oh, where do you go?”

“I go to Empire U, for agricultural studies. Why, do you go to school around here?” Peridot asked, tilting her head a bit.

“I go to Beach City College,” she replied, trying and failing to shrug casually while hanging over the side of a fence. Pumpkin yipped, and Amethyst leaned down a bit more to pet him--

And promptly flipped herself over the fence, tumbling down onto her back and narrowly avoiding squishing both Pumpkin and Peridot.

“Oh--! Shit, are you okay!?” Peridot yelled from where she was now sitting, having stumbled back in the chaos. She scooted over to kneel at Amethyst’s side.

Amethyst groaned and sat up. She looked at Peridot, then to the fascinatingly oblivious pumpkin, then back at Peridot.

She started to giggle, and Peridot laughed with her.

They had chatted for a long while after that.

Peridot and her sister were from a farm town in Illinois, but Peridot’s sister had just gotten a job in Beach City, and it was closer to Peridot’s school anyways. Pumpkin was indeed a spaniel, a gift from Peridot’s ex.

Amethyst had boggled at that-- who got their girlfriend a dog when they didn’t even live together? Peridot had gotten very quiet at that, so Amethyst had changed the subject.

Eventually, the sun started to dip and Peridot’s sister poked her head out the door to tell them to quiet down. Amethyst had climbed back over the fence, promising to see Peridot another day.

That brought them to today, standing in a field. Jasper had vehemently vetoed the toilet, so Amethyst decided on an old-furniture bonfire instead. Bismuth had indeed given a lift and an old cabinet, which Amethyst had demolished with an axe hours beforehand.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Peridot asked, clad in a tank top and shorts, standing a healthy distance away from the pile of splintered wood.

“I do this all the time! Old furniture goes up really well. I remember when we chopped up an old playset, that thing went up like dry newspaper!” Amethyst exclaimed as she piled rocks in a ring along the intended fire pit. “Bis said there wasn’t any varnish or anything on it, so we probably won’t get cancer.”

“What do you mean, probably? ”

Amethyst grinned and exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

“Aw, c’mon. A little cancer never hurt anybody! You’re out in the sun all day anyways, you’re pretty much bound to get it.”

Peridot pouted and crossed her arms.

“It’s too hot to wear clothes while I garden. I’m just being sensible.”

Amethyst bit back a comment about being too hot -- she wasn’t sure if they were, y’know. There yet. But hey, now they were here! Alone, with a (semi) romantic fire. Amethyst had even brought marshmallows. She shoved the last rock into place and stood up, brushing dirt and grit off of her hands. The sun was just starting to set, now. She trotted to the car to fetch the lighter, the kindling, and of course the snacks.

“Do you burn a lot of stuff out here?” Peridot called.

“Nah, usually if I have a bonfire I’ll go to the beach. It’s supposed to be super crowded there tonight though, so I figured we could just use this field.” Really, Bismuth had gently suggested that they use the field in a sort of, don’t you get me in trouble for contributing to your pyromania by setting the beach on fire way. Amethyst was happy to comply.

“Is the beach busy a lot? I haven’t been.”

“It depends on the day and where on the beach. I know some pretty good spots.” Amethyst carefully didn’t mention how many of those spots were technically private property. It wasn’t like Rose and Greg cared anyways, unless they were doing something stupid, like burning massive amounts of shit.

“Can you take me sometime?” Peridot asked, and Amethyst hesitated in stuffing the kindling beneath the woodpile.

“That, uh, sort of sounds like a date, Per.” She laughed nervously, busying herself with the soon-to-be fire.

Peridot was quiet for a long moment. Shit. She’d been pretty sure Peridot was gay. In fact, she was already considering filing an official complaint, because she was pretty sure that it was illegal to wear a flannel like a crop top if you were straight, and Peridot had definitely done that (Amethyst hadn’t ogled her, no siree).

“I, uhm, thought this was a date?” Peridot squeaked, and Amethyst’s heart stopped for at least the third time that evening.

“Oh. Uh.” Amethyst started dumbly at her hands, still holding old newspapers. “Well, uhm, it is now? Is that…?”

“Is that a thing you’d be interested in?” Peridot ventured, “Like. Dating…?”

Holy shit yes , Amethyst’s mind screamed. Somehow, she managed to barely keep her composure.

“Yeah, man. Dating. That sounds pretty fantastic actually.” She said, like someone who didn’t have fireworks going off inside her brain. She crammed another handful of paper into the ple, and clicked the trigger of the fireplace lighter experimentally.

She’d been right, the pile of furniture went up beautifully. She scooted back a few feet, and Peridot sat down beside her.

“That went better than I thought it would,” said Peridot. Amethyst wondered what she was referring to.

As promised, the second date was on the beach. That had played and splashed in the water all day, but as the sun started to set they found themselves sitting on a dock, feet dangling in the water and hands inches away from each other’s.

“I should have brought Pumpkin,” Peridot mused, and Amethyst laughed at the mental image.

“He’d be tracking sand around your house for days, man! All that fur.”

“I’d wash him off with the hose! He likes playing with the hose.”

“I can’t even get all the sand out of my fur, and I have thumbs to operate a shower with. He’d give your sister an aneurysm.” She shook her head wildly for emphasis, and Peridot laughed and shielded herself as salt and sand sprayed from Amethyst’s thick bleached hair.

“Alright, alright, point taken, stop spraying me! Jerk,” She said, with no true malice.

Amethyst pouted anyways.

“I’m just trying to save your dog from a sandy fate!” She declared, voice full of mock offense, “And your house. It’s awful, trying to get all the sand out of the shower afterwards.”

“That’s why I keep my hair short. Less sand vectors.”

Amethyst giggled, and Peridot blushed and grinned.

“Vectors, huh? You’re such a stem major.” Amethyst laughed, gently bumping her with her shoulder. Peridot looked down at her lap. Amethyst looked at the profile of Peridot’s face, drinking in the upturn of her nose and the way her eyelashes looked in the sunset.

“Are you worried about when we go back to school?” Peridot asked, and Amethyst tilted her head.

“Are you?” Amethyst asked in return, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Peridot said, brushing at some sand that was stuck to her thigh. “I mean, I know we aren’t super serious yet or anything, but…”

Amethyst kept her eyes on Peridot, silently encouraging her to go on.

“I don’t know, I mean, you’re really cool and I haven’t dated-- wanted to date someone else in, well, a while, and I just, I just don’t want it to end yet?” Peridot hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.

“I mean,” Amethyst began, faltering a bit, “I think you’re really cool too? And I think you’re cute and I want to get to know you, I mean, it’s not even July . We have time to think about this. I dunno, I usually play this sort of stuff by ear, but maybe, maybe we just see where this goes? Figure out August stuff in August, y’know? Is that… Okay?”

Peridot let her feet dangle over the side of the dock again, but she was still sort of… hunched? Small looking.

Amethyst called out, “Hey.”

Peridot looked over, and Amethyst leaned forward to kiss her.

It was really nice.

The fourth of July was, predictably, also spent on the beach. This time, Amethyst was actually allowed to be on the little stretch of beach that Rose and Greg actually owned, and Peridot had only sort of side eyed her when Greg let them through the gate Amethyst had bypassed last time.

Peridot had been almost uncharacteristically shy around all the others, sticking close to Amethyst's side as they wandered from the volleyball net to the grill to the fire pit. Amethyst just held her hand and attempted to be loud enough for the both of them (and handily succeeded).

Peridot warmed up quickly, though-- Pearl mentioned transport phenomena or some other nebulous concept and Peridot jumped on it like a drowning man on a liferaft, sparking up conversation about molecular transport and scaling and Amethyst wandered off somewhere in the middle for another hotdog, but Peridot and Pearl both seemed to be having fun. Well. ‘Fun.’

Garnet gave her a inscrutable thumbs up, and Amethyst piled more mustard and relish onto her hot dog.

And then it was ten minutes ‘til the fireworks went off, and there was some kind of goddamned conspiracy going on here, because somehow Peridot and Amethyst were the only two on the cliff by the lighthouse, waiting for the show. Usually the joint was packed (well, if you could call the Cool Kids and that anime kid a full crowd). Bismuth and Rose had both suggested that they head up and wait for the rest of the group to catch up, Amethyst was calling shenanigans.

And yet. Somehow the universe had afforded them privacy this Independence day, so Amethyst was ready to declare this the good sort of shenanigans, and that she had a good group of friends, even if their ages did widely differ. Maybe they just wanted her to mack on someone her own age, who knows.

What mattered right now was that Peridot was sort of leaning her head on Amethyst’s shoulder, and she smelled like sunscreen and bonfire smoke, and Amethyst doubted she smelled much better.

Amethyst’s hand found Peridot’s, and they tangled loosely together.

“You sure can’t see many stars around here,” Peridot murmured.

“”S what the fireworks are for,” Amethyst replied, “were there a lot of stars where you lived?”

“No,” Peridot said, “But you could drive a couple hours to where the stars were. It was amazing-- there were so many, you couldn’t see anywhere to fit even one more in.” She sighed longingly.

“I’d love to show it to you,” Peridot whispered, “You’ve shown me so many of, of your places, and it’s only been a month. I want to show the stuff that’s special to me.”

Amethyst squeezed her hand, unsure how to reply. Peridot scooted impossibly closer, nudging her head into the crook of Amethyst’s neck.

“I really, really like you,” Peridot whispered, and Amethyst kissed her temple.

“I really, really like you too.”

Peridot tilted her head up and kissed Amethyst’s nose, and Amethyst grinned widely.

She’d’ve probably appreciated the fireworks more if Peridot’s tongue hadn’t been in her mouth, but hey, who was she to complain?

The summer flew by after that-- spent in days splashing at the beach, hanging out in each others back yards, sometimes to help Amethyst wreck some shit, sometimes to play with Pumpkin sometimes to help Peridot garden.

There were trips to Funland and the boardwalk, nights spent by bonfires, and even a day where Peridot sheepishly turned up at Amethyst’s door with an armful of zucchini. They’d made enough zucchini bread to feed an army, and Amethyst had laughed when Pumpkin turned up at the door with yet another of the vegetables, just like the day they met.

But, all good things had to end, summer especially. Peridot and Amethyst sat on Amethyst’s back porch, eating popsicles and looking up into the sunset sky.

Peridot rested her head on Amethyst’s shoulder, and Amethyst slurped her popsicle directly in Peridot’s ear. Peridot half-heartedly elbowed her in the ribcage. Amethyst gave Peridot a sticky, grape flavored kiss.

“I did the math,” Peridot said. “It’s a five hour trip each way.”

“Fuck that.” Amethyst snorted. “That sucks, man.”

Peridot gave her popsicle a mournful lick, turning so that she didn’t dribble on Amethyst.

“We’ve still got discord! And, y’know, our phones.” Amethyst said, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

“I know,” Peridot mumbled, “I just, I get worried about long distance stuff, what if you find someone else--”

“Peri. You have met, like, all of my friends, and no one's gonna transfer to Beach City of all places. Who am I gonna hook up with? They’re all, like thirty-five and I’m pretty sure Jasper is banging Pearl already anyways. Besides you’re-- you’re unforgettable, man! Irreplaceable. Irrperiplacebale? No, wait--”

Peridot giggled, and Amethyst grinned.

“Dork,” Peridot said around a mouthful of blue raspberry.

“Your dork.” Amethyst said, pleased with herself.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, bathed in orange-gold.

“You really think Pearl’s fucking Jasper?” Peridot asked quizzically, and Amethyst gave an exaggerated shudder.

“I try not to think about it, dude.” At least Jasper seemed happier nowadays. It wasn't her business, she supposed.

Amethyst slid the last of her popsicle off of its stick and into her mouth, sucking on the ice.

“You packed yet?” She asked, and Peridot nodded.

“Sarah can’t wait to get me out of the house, I think. I still have to pack my clothes, but all my room stuff is packed.”

“Sarah is gonna lead a reign of terror over this neighborhood, isn’t she?”

“You’ll have to strike her down.” Peridot sighed dramatically.

Amethyst snorted, and Peridot finished off her popsicle, twiddling absentmindedly with the stick.

“You hear from your roommate yet?”

“Some psych major,” Peridot said, “She seems nice. Said she’s gonna bring a lot of books. Wanna hear my popsicle joke?”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

“What’s the best side of a house to put the porch on?”

“Fuck. The sunny side?”

Peridot giggled.

“No, the outside!”

“Pffft, is that really what it says?” Amethyst asked, playfully grabbing for the stick.

“Yeah! It’s one of the better ones I’ve heard, actually.”

“That’s why I don’t believe you.” Amethyst grabbed for the stick gain, then switched tracks and prodded at Peridot’s sides. The effect was immediate, Peridot let out a yelp of a laugh and curled up defensively.

Amethyst laughed too, kissing her and tasting blue raspberry.

Summer was ending, but they were gonna be fine.

#amedot #steven universe #amethyst su #peridot su #amethyst/peridot #steven universe fanfic #human au #rat's writing #jasper su #squaridot

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samson-is-nosmas-blog · 7 years

Text

Art for me, is a ‘BEAU’tiful object with STORY

It was the first question.

What is art for me?

I thought over to answer this question and I decided to approach to the definition of the art by the people first. Whenever I tried to figure out my own definition, my trial ended up getting totally lost because it’s just so vague. it was just literally like “I don’t know. It’s just fun!” so I really felt frustrated and trapped because I couldn’t describe or explain about what I love. This frustrated feeling also brought me with another pain: I am seriously stupid about what I love. I wanted to deny this painful fact but I barely could. It was logical

I accepted the fact that I lack the experience and own wording for big art world. So, since I couldn’t find the definition of it from the inside of me, I decided to search it outside of me. How the people out there decide and feel about the art? By knowing the answers of this question, I could make my own definition comparing those with people’s view and mine would be precise and clear.

To someone, art is just about sensuous amusement. If you have this view, you can see art as a play. Mostly it comes out of nowhere else but your feelings, inner voice so you feel at ease and pleasurable when you do art. This feelings are rooted in real deep place of our mind, so, I find, it keeps me from activating brain’s logical part and thinking about art. I was kind of lead by the feeling, ‘It’s fun and It’s fascinatingly pretty.’

but I found this view is very fragile because it’s totally centered on my self, especially me feeling pleasure without any worries. But world, and art, is always about interaction so I cannot go with my own totally separated. It’s really suffering if you compromise yourself or your ideas at the first time in particular. First experience is really strong. If it was harsh, the little you might have been suffered A LOT. So you might wanted to keep yourself far away from the world as far as possible. I went through this process too.

So, I can say this pleasurable feeling’s based on the mind of my childhood. particularly, the desire of keeping my childhood untouched. This view has very bright side because this is really pure and innocent energy so I could sometimes found it very special compared with the feelings of people who don’t appreciate or understand arts. But still, I felt a a lack between me and my viewpoint of art.

It was all-the-time fun for me when I made video based on this view. I did what I wanted to, nobody said to me what to do, it was my own world! It was like my little cozy heaven where no one can even touch.

vimeo

This little clip will show you how art was to me at the first place. It’s all-the-time fun but it’s not produced taking other people into account so it’s very fragile and very uncertain. Uncertain, in terms of changing my thoughts to the language or explainable wording to the people. If you walked to me and asked ‘what is this?’ and I could not answer clearly because ‘It was fun’ cannot be a proper answer. So it’s basically not compatible. It’s too self-centered to communicate with.

I have this point of view and worked and literally played with the videos for 6 months with opportunity luckily given to me. But this lucky time had to be finished and I got back to the reality. In my reality, if I keep going like this, I would fall behind and get no support(materially and socially also) my art skill would also die out. Social selection is fatal as much as a natural selection. When I observed myself really objectively, my surrounding is very unfavorable to my video editing life. Unless I reach the certain point, it will not approve my art life.

In realistic way, there were 2 options. One, you go normal life and keep art as your hobby not as a way to achieve your self-realization. The other option, I need to figure out how to keep doing art somehow.

My answer was?

I want to keep doing art.

I decided to keep working because art has something more in it that touches my mind that pulls me really hard besides of the all-the-time-fun element. That something, was very similar to quenching the thirst with water. It satisfies my certain desire I barely understand at the first time. I couldn’t even describe what my desire was at that time and now I know I must have been ignoring that desire for so long that I couldn’t figure out what’s going on inside of my mind. Anyway, that time, at least I knew I need art and chose to keep doing it even though I have to compromise and put my all-the-time fun attitude down. It was very clear I NEED to develop my skills very effectively to prove and be supported by the outside world if I want to become an artist. Outside world means the people. I need to talk to them and find out how they think, why they like or dislike.

So my viewpoint changed. Art is not a pure all-the-time fun play to me anymore but it becomes a product after I think over and over and over again about the outside of my mind. Outside of me is huge and made up of millions, thousands of mechanisms as many as the number of people around the world. The more I comprehend, deeper became the delight of the enlightenment. So after I turns my eyes to the world, how people live became my art topic very naturally. This topic is very powerful source because it can derive people’s sympathy easily. So next step is how to form it in a communicative way. I need to talk to them and find out how they think, why they like or dislike.

This act gave me a wonderfully wide comprehension about the world and it also gave me an important feelings of growth because I learned to extend myself outside of my body and be concerned based on warm heart. It ripened me. It was kind of freedom since I am not locked up in my body anymore. Now, art became a comprehensible form and mature. Art is a message or story of one person.

So, back to back. The question.

What is art for me?

It’s a beautifully cleared one’s thought, transformed to an object has a message in it.

I think it’s a fact that raw materials, thoughts and ideas are way hard to understand by the most of the people. It needs to consider others if artist wants to interact with people, which means it has been compromised to talk to you and the people. The first ideas from the artist were willing to change itself to a normal form to communicate with you. But the first idea is still very alive because the artist, very delicately, changed it to a communicative form so it is still vital after the modification. It’s an alive message talking to you. So the first idea, which was formless, is now becoming a form in a modest way to speak to the people. It has been reproduced as an interacting form now and if you see the fine touch the artist made you will see the beauty.

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