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#but boy golly can i understand where those people were coming from
My History (he/him to she/her)
My transgender experience and my time tumblr, not all that surprisingly, overlap slightly. At the age of 14 I made my first foray into tumblr and met a number of people and accounts who were hugely formative to my early years on the internet. Outside of tumblr I had a mostly average young-teenage social life, perhaps on the shyer and reserved side but not altogether abnormal.
Keeping in this bubble of normalcy was the school where I went and the town where I lived. It was small and semi-rural, and far out of “big cities.” Because of this, my first real contact and understanding of transgender identities came from the internet, tumblr specifically. Now, for those that swear by the “social contagion” of transness, I know how this must appear, but in retrospect I would not really pin tumblr and it’s communities as an “infection vector.”
Rather, it was the Wachowskis.
Love them or hate them (and, golly, has there been a lot of digital ink spilled on that), no one can deny that to the average 14 year old boy, The Matrix is pretty cool. So combine these inspirational directors with a cool cyberpunk movie, some relatively tamed sexuality, and such intrigues as the character Switch (for those that don’t know, Switch was originally intended as a trans character, “switching” genders when entering and leaving the Matrix) and the very concept of trans people was not something I would accidentally forget the name of.
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Of course, there was a whole litany of events and peoples and foundational experiences I could get into, each one contributing to the coming landslide, but I won’t digress about it here. Suffice it to say that I came out as bisexual at 15 and (to a select few) transgender at 16, though I had as yet no notions of transitioning either hormonally or socially.
I was the only trans kid there. At least, as far as I know, and blending into the crowd (no matter the personal discomfort) seemed the path of least resistance for a shy, awkward boy-girl. 
I played around with names and makeup and skirts for a while. The first few times made my heart pound hard and my throat to go dry. It was a mixture of excitement and dread of the wrong person walking in at the wrong time. My friend group, by and large, were supportive though they themselves only ranged from “LGBT Ally” and “maybe bi-curious.” Life was mostly good, though I was quick to notice that clothes and faceful of makeup did little to alter my gangly arms, my nervous twitches, the leg hair that stood out very dark against my pale skin.
When I had first applied the concept of being transgender to myself I saw it as more, well, magical. That I would see my awkward puberty (already be a few years late in coming) be stripped away and that I would simply transfigure into a perfect female form. Of course I knew, rationally, that was not how the process worked but in my daydreams and short stories it was always as simple as that.
As I have learned these last five years, living openly as a trans girl, it was much more difficult. That is not to say I was tricked into it! I was always cognizant of the fact that my dreams were one thing and that to be an out and proud trans woman was very different. What I did think (and this is the concept that I am having second guesses on), was that it was better than testosterone-fueled puberty.
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Looking back, I’d say that I am beyond a doubt happy with the life I lived and that living as transgender has given me a perspective on gender and sexuality that I could not have gotten anywhere else. Yet here we are five years later, I’m approaching my mid-20s and it’s probably about time I start HRT, right?
Well, I’m still terrified by the aging effects of testosterone: wrinkles, body hair, male pattern baldness, etc, I came upon a surprise that I think even you Detransitioners and Gender Criticals would be interested to hear: I’ve found that, for this moment, I am happy with my body.
Now -- I still dress feminine, I throw on makeup whenever my face is splotchy, I keep my hair long because it frames my (admittedly) long face rather well. And, as said before, I think I would rather lose this right arm of mine than get a receding hairline.
When I look at myself in the mirror, however, what I see is (pardon the language) a cute, effeminate twink -- and I’m happy with what I see (for now, not all of us are forever young, right?). Now, looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself I am looking at a girl I see a number of flaws: forehead, shoulders, chest, etc., the usual dysphoric candidates, but last night something amazing happened:
I looked at my reflection and asked myself: what if this was the image of a guy I’m trying to date? Someone who actually doesn’t mind showing off their broad shoulders and flat chest? It sounds droll but it’s true, I fell in love with myself. Well, maybe not in the Narcissus way, but I found myself loving the fact that I looked like a kind of boy!
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So that leads me to today. Ever since the revelation I find that my brain seems to be changing beyond my control. Womanhood? Femininity? Whatever you want to call it, just didn’t seem as important anymore -- it seemed to be leaking out of me bit by bit. All that remains is this sense of masculinity, not the traditional kind, but something male, something boy-ish even, and basking in it gave me more euphoria than ever before.
Going forward, I want to engage with detrans literature, I want to hear the stories of detransistioners and transgender people and everyone in between. I know somewhere out there, my experience can be related to and I hope to find the answer soon -- should I detransition or not?
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The stark contrast between the messages of In Flanders Fields and Dulce Et Decorum Est... how one poem urges the reader to take up the torch of the men who have died and carry on the fight, while the other actively dissuades the reader from war...
“Take up our quarrel with the foe:/To you from failing hands we throw/The torch; be yours to hold it high./If ye break faith with us who die/We will not sleep, though poppies grow/In Flanders fields”
versus
“If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood/Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,/Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud/Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues—/My friend, you would not tell with such high zest/To children ardent for some desperate glory,/The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est/Pro patria mori.”
Just. The change in tone throughout the war. Both of these were written during WWI; IFF in 1915, and DEDE in 1917-1918. Neither poem makes light of loss, but Flanders Fields describes the surroundings of the battles rather than the death and destruction of the soldiers themselves, while Dulce doesn’t bother pulling punches and describes in great detail what happens to soldiers in the trenches. Flanders Fields still had the spirit of the fight, urging new soldiers to take up the torch and continue the work of the dead. By contrast, Dulce downright rejects the spirit of war in the face of the horrors that are brought by war.
For translation, “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” means something to the effect of “It is sweet and just to die for one’s country”.
Reading these poems rly puts existentialism in a new light man. Also one cannot read DEDE and leave without feeling at least a little horrified.
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sugamamacustard · 3 years
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Feral Animal
Pairing:  Alpha! Kentarou Kyoutani x Omega! Reader
Genre: Fluff
Request:  Hi! I love your abo blog! I was wondering if you could write about Alpha!Kyotani with an Omega!Reader, where their first encounter catches everyone by surprise? Like, Reader has a traditionally alpha scent (like burning/smokey wood) and can usually get away with being mistaken as an alpha at first glance? It’s fine if you’re asks are full or you don’t want to do this but thanks for your time 😊 —Sno
Summary:  You just wanted to get the boys to practice on time. You weren’t prepared to deal with this.  Good thing you had a gaurdian angel- or should we say, dog. 
Author’s Note: I love Kyoutani so much. Like he’s in my top three people I simp for. 
Requests: Open!
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Kentarou Kyoutani
➵ No one gathered in your way when walked down the hall. You smelt strong enough to put them on edge. 
➵ Peoples hackles were constantly raised when you were around, and truthfully, you didn’t know why. 
➵ You were still you. You were still an omega. 
➵ You still ached to reach out for touch, to scent someone, to just have the smallest bit of attention from anyone that wasn’t Iwaizumi.
➵  You and he had met when you were young, and he took to being your personal guardian—since he was a year older than you.
➵  You were thankful for him and his friendship, but that was all it would ever be. You both tried dating in your first year of middle school (Dating being a loose term), but it was obvious you were better off as friends. 
➵ You both still hung out constantly though, and eventually he grew to be an older brother to you.
➵  When you got to high school though, you quickly realized that with Iwaizumi came Oikawa. You had known him just as you had known Iwaizumi, but the other male seemed to keep his distance from you.
➵ It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he was keeping his distance with you. When you and Iwaizumi explained to him there was nothing between the two of you, nor would there ever be, he calmed down. 
➵ The fellow omega (Oikawa is an omega ass bottom change my mind. Unless it comes to requests. Then he’s an alpha for you :D) grew to be close with you as well and if one or the other was being idiotic you stepped in as the shoulder to cry on. 
➵ You were happy for them, truly, but you knew sooner or later you were going to be out of the picture.
➵  They were third years, and you were a second year. They had a relationship that ran deeper than any thing you could offer them.
➵ And that was okay.
➵ Facing the obvious, it’s clear that, because your best friends are those two dorks, you’re into volleyball. Or in the very least, know of it and how to play. Because of this, you’re elected manager.
➵  No more choice. 
➵ You don’t fawn over Oikawa constantly, you can handle Iwaizumi’s outbursts, you were calm with the first years, and you don’t put up with any fan girl’s bullshit. 
➵ You didn’t get the chance to refuse honestly.
➵ “I’m sorry, but unfortunately, Oikawa-Senpai is busy at the moment- “
➵ “Please, just- Let me see him! I won’t be long!” The Alpha pleaded, trying to appease to your sense of empathy. Unfortunately for her, that was dried up before the second girl even looked at you to ask the very same thing. 
➵ You were tired of girls, obviously not getting the hint, trying to confess their undying love to Oikawa every other day. How did they not see he was an Omega? 
➵ Yeah, he had suppressants out the wahzoo but, good golly, his mannerisms were all Omega.  
➵ Apparently this alpha though her and Oikawa would be the ultimate power couple.
➵ “Like I said before, he is busy. Any time you take up is time wasted.” You snorted, turning tail and shutting the gym door, ignoring the screech of anger behind it. You were used to it.
➵  Most times you locked them out, they’d throw a bitch-fit, turn and bad-mouth you to their friends for a few days. 
➵ They’d tease you for your scent—which was a, frankly lovely, pinewood and amber scent—and poke fun at you, saying how ‘you’ll never get an alpha smelling stronger than them” with a sneer. You’ve learned to ignore those types of girls.
➵ What you didn’t expect however, was for her to scream some more, banging on the metal door.
➵  It was ripped open in your moment of shock, making you turn on your heel to face her. 
➵ Her hair, though still relatively upkept, was frizzy with fly-a way’s running out occasionally, but her eyes were what scared you. 
➵ They were constricted to ball point bulbs that were locked onto you, fangs poking out as she snarled at you.
➵ Of course. Because why wouldn’t a feral Alpha be part of your day today?
➵ You growled yourself, trying to reign in your scent but it was getting harder and harder as she stalked closer.
➵ No one else was in the gym, as they were changing in the club room, but you figured you could handle her.
➵ You hoped at least.
➵ She tried pouncing on you, your arms quickly crossing in front of your face to shield yourself, but instead of an angry alpha trying to claw your eyes out, you merely got a gust of wind.
➵   Peeking open an eye—you couldn’t recall closing them, but whatever—you frowned at the face staring back at you.
➵  You hadn’t talked to him, personally, but you knew who he was. Kentarou Kyoutani. 
➵ He was incredibly strong, a worthy advisory, and worst of all…
➵ A ticking time-bomb of an alpha.
➵ He had the resting bitch face to end all resting bitch faces, and the attitude to go with it. He had only said one word to you ever and it was ‘move’. His voice was gruff and angry when he said it, but his eyes softened when you looked up at him. 
➵ He waited patiently for you to gather your things before moving. That was the first, and what you thought, last time you’d ever see the alpha. He entranced you though, so you wouldn’t ever necessarily be opposed to seeing him again. 
➵ Just maybe not in this circumstance.
➵ Kyoutani held the alpha by the collar of her shirt, his lips poked up in a snarl with his canines gleaming dangerously in the sunlight
➵ . Contrary to popular belief, he’d only ever gone feral once in his life. His stepfather, an awful, awful, excuse for an alpha had raised a hand to his Mama.
➵  He refused to let anyone ever raise a hand to omega that day and stuck to his grits with it.
➵  Many people often feared him because of his careful eye and quick reflexes. 
➵ They claimed he was close to going feral because they never cared to admit they were planning on hurting someone. He didn’t care.
➵ At least he didn’t. When he saw you simply turn and close the gym door, he felt his heart skip a beat. 
➵ Maybe it was just the fact that you didn’t relent, or maybe it was the fact that you didn’t care or bend or submiss in the absolute slightest, or maybe it was the waft of the most calming scent he’s ever smelt before.
➵  He knew the other alpha’s scent, as she had practically reeked all over him while asking him for things Oikawa liked before he snapped on her, so this was all you. And he…liked it. 
➵ He hated scents that were too sweet or too ‘exciting’ in a way, but this? This was calming and euphoric all in one and he wanted to straight up bathe in it.  It smelt that good.
➵ He watched the alpha screech, stomping her foot—he could guess she was the very definition of daddy’s girl with her reaction to being told ‘no’—and before he could growl at her to leave, she was forcing open the door and snarling. 
➵ So, he dropped his bag and ran to make sure you were okay. His alpha pawing at him to hurry up. 
➵ He had felt the very same as they day he ran his stepfather out of his life, but this time…This time, he would be sure not to go feral. That would scare you and he couldn’t, wouldn’t risk that.
➵ When he got there, the alpha lunged and he had barely enough time to grab her. You looked shocked to see him, or maybe it was residue from when she broke into the gym, but you didn’t say anything.
➵  He took that as a good sign, turning tail and dragging her to where he dropped his bag. He grabbed it quickly, instead dropping her and rushing back to the gym.
➵  You closed the door behind him, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa quickly locking it. In the time, between Kyoutani dragging out the feral alpha you had the chance to text Iwaizumi, sending choppy and shaky, but succinct, messages to let him know what was going on.
➵  The rest of the team were on their way anyway, so they merely hurried their steps. When they turned to lock the door, you stopped them, crying for them to just wait for a minute.
➵ Kyoutani had run in seconds after your plea and the door was quickly shut. 
➵ Scents were going insane in the gym, but his was most discernible to you. He smelt scared.
➵  Before anyone had a chance to mention it though, he was turning to you and reaching for your face.
➵ you flinched but that didn’t stop him. His fingers were gentle, more so than you could expect from him, and he was so soft while turning your face to observe the damage. Iwaizumi tried to get close, but he was growled at as you were held to Kyoutani’s chest. 
➵  The team could only watch, flabbergasted, as you were hugged and scented by their mad dog. Even more so when you began laughing and purring, placing your hands around his neck.
➵  You whispered something (They were ‘Thank you’ and appreciation whispers) into his ear, making his shoulders visibly relax. No one could really understand what had happened, but they weren’t sure if they wanted to question it just yet.
➵ Well, most of team didn’t at least.
➵ “Aw, Mad dog-Chan! How do you know our little Chibi-chan?” Oikawa laughed, leaning off Iwaizumi as he spun a volleyball on his pointer finger.  
➵ Kyoutani grunted, abruptly pulling away, only to growl and pull you back when his alpha snarled. “Don’t.”
➵ “Wait- wait, wait. Hold on.” Hanamaki snorted, holding his hands up. “So you, Mad dog, most vicious alpha this side of the equator, just decided fuck it, and chose to not only save an omega you’ve never met, but then hog her? I don’t know, Mattsun, seems kind of sus to me.”
➵ “Very sus.” Matsukawa agreed, snickering. He yelped however, when Kyoutani turned to snarl at him, only for you to hold him back. Matsukawa had never felt more scared for his life in that very moment, and he owed you a whole ass chapel.
➵ It stayed like that for the rest of the practice, with you calming Kyoutani down ever time he needed a ‘time out’ and over time he got much better at controlling his anger.
➵ No one was surprised when you walked in two weeks later, a small, thin leather choker clipped on around your neck with a hand-made moon charm hanging from it.
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everything-person · 3 years
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Then Came You
A/N: This is my contribution to @cshistfic Historical Fic Event. This is my first time diving deep, just submerging myself into research to make sure I got my time period correct and I had a blast. Sometime I had too much fun and thankfully I had @spartanguard to push me off my high horse. Thank you @shireness-says for making this event and running it. Hopefully my entree is worthy enough. This fic is based in the 70’s and is inspired by Disney Pixar’s Cars. This may have up to 3 parts.
Summary: Rookie of the Year race car driver Killian Jones finds himself lost in a forgotten Storybrooke on his way to the finale race of the season. His world and perspective on what he wants gets turned upside down in the small town.
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Where the fuck am I?
was Killian Jones, famous race car driver, first thought as he woke up. Well, first thought after he got over the throbbing pain in his skull. He sat up to see he was laying in a cot. Taking in his immediate surroundings, he realized he was behind bars. His head fell into his hands.
How did I get here?
He recalled being at Pocono in the Piston Cup series finale. He was named Rookie of the Year and was set up to be the first one to win. His only real competition was Ernest “the King'' Triton, Atlantica’s golden boy, who was planning on this being his last season, and Edward Teach, the King's tail biter. They weren’t expecting Killian to come out of nowhere and take the season by storm.
He was set to win it all, ahead by half a lap, checkered flag insight when a tire blew. He struggled but was able to keep control of his car. He could feel his competitors gaining on him as he lost speed. Such events caused a three-way tie, set to be settled in a week in Daytona.
He remembered the interviews asking about him driving without a crew chief; he always had an issue taking orders. The King came walking up to him.
“My man, you are one bad racer. You got more talent in that famous smile of yours than half these dudes got in their whole body but you’re stupid. Let me give you the lowdown: this ain’t a one-man show, young blood. You need to wise up, get yourself a good crew chief and a good team. You ain’t gonna win unless you got stellar people behind you doing their jobs so you can keep being the slammin’ driver you are.”
He thanked him for the advice before they were made to get on stage for the press. That's when Edward Teach decided to try to psyche him out.
“Listen space cadet, that was some fab drifting today. By me. He he he. First one at Daytona gets Atlantica all to themselves. Catch my drift?”
Then he went looking for his team, only to find out from Smee, his truck driver, that he had to make a personal appearance over at his sponsor's tent—Arendelle Chocolates, run by sisters Elsa and Anna Arendelle, most famous for the Apollo Bar.
“A taste that’s out of this world!”
He desperately wanted to get away from his sponsor. He didn’t care for sweets and frankly found most disgusting. He entered the tent to find the other reason he didn’t care for his current sponsor: children all running around with their grubby hands. The sight made him squirm, but Smee reminded him they gave him his big break and it was in his contract. With those inspiring words, he put on a smile, made his way to his sponsor sisters, said a few words that had the tent roaring in cheers before he said goodbye.
“Killian, that was stellar! We are so proud to call you our driver!”
“And we are looking forward to another fab year!”
“Don’t drive like my sister!”
“Yeah, don't drive like my sister!”
He and his crew got on the road not long after that. His crew were in the truck along with his car while he drove just behind them. While his crew pulled off to get some rest, he kept going to be the first at Daytona. But he kept nodding off and got lost.
He remembered pulling out his map to try and find out where he was. He tried to keep his car steady while trying to make out what his map said by moonlight, when he heard sirens. Looking up, he saw the lights of a town. Before he could think about pulling over the sirens were accompanied with sounds of loud popping. He assumed it was the officer firing at him. He tried to dodge the bullets but soon lost control of his car. He ran into quite a few things before gaining control again, only to get caught on something. He gunned it to get free, only to have his car spin out once he was. The last thing he remembered was something crashing into his driver side door effectively stopping his spin out and causing his head to slam into his window; then everything went black.
Groaning, he picked up his head taking another look around. He was on a cot, in a holding cell, in a dusty office. He was taking in the desks and filing cabinets, looking for signs of life, when he heard a voice.
“Well hi,” came an excited, high-pitched voice.
His head snapped back to one of the desks to see a boy he missed sitting just behind it.
“I was wondering when you were gonna wake up.”
Killians faced scrunched up, “What's going on? Why am I here?”
The boy laughed, “Like you don’t know. For being a spaz last night.”
“What's your name, lad?”
“Henry. What's your name?”
“You don’t know my name?” Killian asked, taken aback by the question.
“No; why should I know your name?”
“I’m Killian Jones.” He waited for the moptop boy to put the pieces together
“Killian Jones!” Henry shot up out of his seat as he exclaimed the name before falling back down. “Yeah, not ringing a bell.”
Killian furrowed his eyebrows, “Where am I?”
“Where are you? You’re in Storybrooke, the most rockin’ town on the Potomac River.”
Killian sighed, dropping his head, bringing his hand up rubbing at his forehead. “Great. Just great.”
“Well if you like this place, you should see the rest of the town.”
Killian picked up his head, looking at the brown-eyed boy and spied just behind him the keys to his cage. Focusing back on the boy, he smiled and stood up from his spot on the cot.
“You know, that's a brilliant idea. I’d love to see the rest of your town. If you just let me out of here, we could go cruisin’ the town.” Killian finished his thought as he came leaning against the bars.
“Golly! Really?” Henry sat up straighter with a bright smile that slowly turned into a smirk, “You think you can psyche me out. I’m ten, not stupid.”
“Henry!” a new voice shouted out.
In walked a man sporting a perm and mustache wearing a star at his hip.
“What have you been told about being in here with criminals?”
Henry sighed, “Not without supervision. But he was sleeping.”
The man crossed his arms, letting out a huff, “Well now he’s awake. Want to help me escort him to court?”
The next thing Killian knew, he was in chains and being placed in the back of a cop car. After a short ride, he was hauled out and guided into Town Hall where he was met with shouting and very angry townspeople. He was placed in a chair.
“Oi mate,” Killian looked up at the sheriff, “I gotta skitty. How long is this gonna take?”
The sheriff, Robin read his name tag, crossed his arms, “Do you have a lawyer?”
Killian scoffed, “Aye, but he's probably in Hawaii right now.”
“If the defendant doesn’t have representation, the court will assign one to him.” Robin turned to the crowd behind him bringing his fingers to his lips, letting out a shrieking whistle. “Anyone want to be his lawyer?”
The room went silent.
“I’ll do it,” a familiar voice broke the silence.
Killian turned to see the boy from before trotting up to the gate. Robin quirked an eyebrow at him.
“What? It's not hard.”
“Hmm, alright,” Robin agreed, letting the boy take the seat next to Killian.
Killian looked between the two before landing his gaze on the sheriff.
“Are you serious?”
“Well, our normal defense is at the vet after you clipped his dog last night,” Robin informed him before speaking to the room, “All rise! Honorable Judge Nolan presiding.”
Everyone stood as the sound of a door opening and closing was heard. Heavy footsteps rang out in the silence.
“I want to know who is responsible for wrecking my town. I want his ass on a silver platter. I’m gonna put him in jail until he rots. No, until the jail rots on top of him then I’ll put him in another jail and wait until that one rots. I—”
The man's rants came to a halt as he laid his eyes on the accused. “Get him out of here, sheriff. I want him out of my courtroom and out of my town. Case dismissed; charges dropped.”
Killian let out a breathy laugh, “Woah. You were a better lawyer than I thought, youngblood.”
“Sorry I’m late, Your Honor.”
Killian turned to see a stunning blonde woman come strutting in.
“Bloody hell,” Killian whispered under his breath. He thought the sheriff must’ve found his agent's number and gave him a call. This must be who they sent from his attorney’s office.
As she was walking by, Killian spoke up, “Hello, love. Thank you for coming but we are all set. He’s dropped the charges.”
She stopped and turned to him, her eyes darting to the boy next to him. “What?”
“Aye, we got off lucky. Now all we have to do is speed on down to Florida.”
“Please.”
“I get that a lot. I create feelings in people they themselves don't understand.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well I’m gonna go talk to the judge.”
“Whatever you gotta do, love. Do be careful though. These cats are a bit feral.”
She pursed her lips, nodding before turning her attention to the smiling child next to him, “Hi, Henry.”
“Hello.”
Killian looked at the boy before looking back at the blonde, who had turned to the crowd behind him.
“Morning everyone,” she called out, receiving greetings in response. She turned, eyeing Killian as she did, before she walked up to the judges stand who was intensely looking at his papers.
“David, you're looking well. Your sideburns are—”
“Forget it, Emma. I already dismissed the case,” he said, not looking up at her.
“He endangered most of the town and destroyed half of it. You can’t just let him go.”
“We are better off with him gone.”
Emma huffed, “Alright; you asked for it.”
Emma turned and addressed the room, “I move for an appeal. Robin, if you will help me escort the accused to the Mayor.”
Robin assisted Killian out of the chair. They followed the woman down the hall and up the stairs. Killian would protest but the walk was giving him a great view of the blonde’s ass.
As they came to a door labeled Mayor, Robin leaned over and whispered to Killian, “May the mayor have mercy on your soul.”
Before Killian could question or even look at the man he was being ushered into a black and white room.
“Ms. Swan, why are you barging into my office?” A woman sitting behind the desk in the middle of the office asked, not bothering to look up at the intruders.
“Judge Nolan ruled to dismiss the charges against our drunk driver—”
“I wasn’t drunk,” Killian interrupted.
“And I moved for an appeal. I thought the sooner the better,” Emma continued.
The woman finally looked up to see Emma standing in front of her desk before her eyes darted to Sheriff Robin, and Judge Nolan standing just behind her with Killian standing in between them.
“What are the charges?”
“Reckless driving, reckless endangerment, trespassing, vandalism, and destruction of property.”
“Why did you dismiss the case?” The woman directed the question to Judge Nolan.
He stepped forward standing next to Emma. “Madame Mayor, what happened last night was a terrible occurrence but I believe the longer this man stays, the more trouble will come.”
“Based on what?”
“I know the kind of man he is. I can see it in his eyes. He’s the last thing this town needs.”
“We let this guy walk, it sends a message to every delinquent in town that you can do whatever you want. The town needs to be fixed—they need this,” Emma stated.
“I think the sheriff's station’s reputation will precede this incident. We are fine without him,” Judge Nolan responds.
The mayor turned to Emma. “What do you suggest the sentence should be if I agree to your appeal?”
“Make an example of him. Give him community service, make him fix everything he can that he broke. Whatever he can’t, fine him for; by the looks of his clothes, he can afford it.”
The mayor sat back looking between the man and woman in front of her.
“Sheriff,” she called, “What say you? Should I let this man go to avoid further disturbance, or have him fix the town?”
“Well, I think the town needs renovation more than it needs to avoid trouble. In fact, I think we could benefit from some,” Robin eloquently answered.
The mayor nodded, standing from her seat, “I’m inclined to agree. The accused is sentenced to community service until everything that was damaged from last night's events is fixed and a fine of six hundred dollars for reckless driving and endangerment.”
Killian’s eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead. He went from walking away scot-free to becoming this town’s new handyman along with being fined six hundred dollars.
The mayor took her seat once again stating, “You are all dismissed.”
Emma turned around with a satisfied smile plastered on her face. “Looks like Florida is gonna have to wait.”
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headtothecoast · 4 years
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hogwarts!geraskier au
geralt is a hufflepuff and jaskier is a slytherin if you think otherwise be prepared to catch these hands.  and maybe a lute.
geralt's appearance is very much meant to intimidate and jaskier's is meant to sooth.  however, the sorting hat doesn't care about that.  it cares about intent. jaskier intends to get famous.  geralt intends to help people.
so picture this,
muggleborn jaskier who realizes he can literally enchant people with his music and wants to become famous.  pureblood geralt whose father vesemir separated from their family when he was younger but takes in children that are unwanted in some way, be it birth/magic/social status.
the two meet on the train.  geralt is sitting alone in a cabin and he's quiet and angry as a kid because his family didn't want him and his brothers are off somewhere having fun but he isn't sure he wants to go to hogwarts because he would much rather be at home with roach.  he was scared he wouldn't be good at this whole magic thing, eskel had told him that's why his parents didn't want him so he may as well show up, not get put in a house, and take the train home back to roach.  that's the plan anyways.
at least until he hears a commotion in the hallway of the train and sees two 3rd years holding a 1st year with wants pointed at him and wicked smiles on their faces and it doesn't matter that geralt's never cast a spell he's seen eskel and lambert practice movements and vesemir perform this one often enough around especially vindictive parents that geralt casts such a strong protego he sends the 3rd years flying and the small 1st year is staring at him with the largest eyes he's ever seen and a split lip.
geralt intends to just walk away because the 3rd years don't look like they're coming back and geralt honestly can't believe it worked except the other 1st year sticks his hand out and introduces himself as jaskier the famous musician!  and thanks geralt for helping him and well no he didn't exactly have it under control and my goodness what year are you in because none of the older kids really wanted to help me the sods but you're much nicer than them aren't you and i don't really know how i keep getting myself into those sorts of messes and what magic did you just perform there?  i've never done magic before! didn't know it existed until my parents got a letter and they were more surprised than me i guess by golly you are tall mr. oh my goodness i am so sorry i didn't ask your name, what is your name?
and geralt has a headache as well as a better understanding for why those 3rd years wanted this kid out of their cabin but also it's less lonely in his cabin now that jaskier is sitting next to him jabbering away and fidgeting a little because of the silence and geralt almost forgets he was asked a question but tells jaskier his name and is rewarded with more conversation and praise and if jaskier rubs his wrists where the other kids had grabbed him then geralt ignores it and definitely doesn't hand him a chocolate frog when the trolley comes around and smile a little when jaskier's eyes nearly burst from his head when the frog leaps right out of the box and into his hand.  and then jaskier's sad because he doesn't want to kill the frog and geraaalt isn't that mean, to eat a real frog and geralt doesn't even get to weigh in that it's a fake one before the prefects walk around and remind everyone to change into their robes.
so geralt and jaskier are sitting again except jaskier keeps going on about his robes and then looks speculatively at geralt and asks if he knows anything about hogwarts.  geralt says he has older brothers and sisters that have attended and have been sorted into every house.  when jaskier asks him about the house system geralt tells him everything his brothers had told him, albeit haltingly. gryffindor is for the brave, slytherin for the clever, ravenclaw for the smart and hufflepuff for the loyal.  jaskier asks how the hat determines which one you are and geralt says it reads your mind, talks to you sort of, asks you what you want in life.  jaskier says he wants to be a musician and asks geralt what he wants.  geralt says he wants roach.  jaskier laughs and geralt prepares to be made fun of but jaskier says that's a wild name and asks what roach is and that it's so cool geralt has a horse or a foal because she's so little and goes off for a little bit before seeing the castle in the distance and sobering long enough to ask geralt if he thinks there's a bad house to get put in because he heard one of the older kids talking about slytherins.
geralt thinks for a moment because his brothers and sisters had been in every house.  there were slytherins, gryffindors, ravenclaws, and hufflepuffs all over kaher morhen during the holidays, so many he was sure they could hold class on the estate and hogwarts need not open its doors.  he knows that gryffindors are usually loud and boisterous, that ravenclaws are dedicated and single-minded, that slytherins always have a goal, and that hufflepuffs can always be found next to one of them.  he tells jaskier that none of the houses are bad, that each one is different and that whichever one jaskier gets put in would be lucky to have him.  slytherin just means you know what you want and you're determined more than anything to do it.
and suddenly geralt has his arms full of jaskier who is laughing and thanking him and telling him that he hopes they're in the same house because who wouldn't want to be in the same house as their very best friend.
geralt's eyes go wide because except for his siblings, who don't count, he hasn't ever had a friend.  and maybe from the look on jaskier's face of wide eyes and an unsure smile he thinks neither has he.  so geralt just nods and says even if they're not in the same house, siblings get put in different places all the time so it's not like they wouldn't see each other.
and suddenly they're standing in a hall with long tables and high ceilings and a short stool in the middle of stone floors while the headmistress explains some updates that geralt and jaskier are too nervous to hear but then the sorting hat sings a song about unity and trust and geralt elbows jaskier as if to say i told you so and suddenly he's sitting on the stool and talking to a hat.
another rivia.  how interesting.  you remind me of your father.  geralt sits up straighter at that.  the one thing vesemir had always refused to tell them was his own hogwarts house.  he didn't want to admit to favorites.  yes i can see that you would like that, or that you think you would like to be like your adoptive father.  interesting.  and yet the boy you met on the train earlier - jaskier, now there's a talkative kid if you've ever met one.  and geralt remains mostly silent while the hat deliberates, he doesn't know if he gets to say anything or weigh in on the decision.  of course you get a say.  what house do you prefer?  and geralt draws a blank.  he doesn't know.  supposes he doesn't care but that's not right he does care he just, never saw himself getting this far really.  expected he'd be back home with roach by now and not actually having to pick a house.  so geralt asks the hat which one is your favorite and the hat is surprised.  geralt thinks its laughing on his head and then so much like vesemir before the hat shouts HUFFLEPUFF
and there's clapping when he steps down from the stool and he goes to sit at the table except jaskier hugs him and is smiling and geralt smiles back and says good luck and then he's sitting by kids dressed in yellow and waiting for his friend to sit beneath a hat.
ah.  a muggleborn.  jaskier.  geralt's friend.  you have an interesting mind.  though i'm sure you know that.  surprised you aren't talking my flaps off right now actually given how much i saw you talk in geralt's head.  ah well.  let's see.  you want to be a musician correct?  at the question jaskier startles and peeps a yes, because the hat didn't sound like it was saying things outloud but just in his head and it was a strange feeling and jaskier wanted to ask geralt what the hat said to him except the hat asked him something else which he didn't quite catch but he heard the laughter and then - yes your thoughts are so fast it's hard to keep pace, and i can read minds.  well, given their speed and determination i guess we'll go with SLYTHERIN - the hat shouts and then jaskier is being wisked off to a sea of green.
and when the headmistress looks out over the tables and finishes her welcoming speech she claps her hands and says alright now off with you, arranged seating is only for the sorting ceremony, sit where you like
and geralt barely gets out an oomf before jaskier slams into him talking a mile a minute and geralt just smiles to himself and listens.
*sorry, these are always longer than i mean them to be.  they’re too long to feel like a headcannon and too short to be considered a fic.  
**not sure how/when to add yennifer sorry, maybe she’s a year above them and no one can figure out which house she’s in since she stole an outfit of each color because i wouldn’t put it past her
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theliterarywolf · 3 years
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How was the sequel to Tales from The Hood, a shitshow?
The original Tales from the Hood, while having some campy horror elements, still managed to present its stories and tone competently while still incorporating themes of struggles of black Americans in urban areas. 
Examples: 
A black politician who’s been trying to fight against police corruption gets beaten to death and injected with drugs post-mortem by said corrupt cops to slander his name. The politician returns from the dead to exact vengeance. Obviously this short tackles police brutality and corruption.
A little boy and his mother who are constantly beaten and abused by what he draws and identifies as a ‘monster’ who, it turns out, is the mother’s new boyfriend. The theme here is Domestic Violence and how often people try to brush it under the rug as just a way of life in the community. 
A former klansman-turned senator buys a building called ‘The Dollhouse’ that is of high historical significance to the local black community, despite their wishes and complaints, to serve as the headquarters for his racist campaign to become governor. The house in of itself was where a confederate-supporter, after the loss of the Civil War, decided to murder all of his slaves rather than see them freed. Their restless souls haunted the place until a ‘voodoo woman’ managed to calm their souls and place them into dolls. You can pretty much guess where this is going and the themes.
The final entry centers around a gang-member who, after getting hunted and shot down by rival gang-members, is taken into police custody and is given one last chance for freedom by a doctor’s new, radical behavioral therapy program. Said therapy takes a note right out of A Clockwork Orange and bombards our main character with alternating images of brutal gang-violence and KKK lynchings. After which, he is berated with apparitions of all the people he’s shot and killed; including a little girl who was a victim during one of his drive-by shootings. Of course, this kind of therapy will only be successful if the subject shows some remorse...
And all of this is wrapped in a framing device of three gang-members trying to find some drugs at a funeral-home, even harassing the funeral-director, which turns out to be a portal into hell.
... *deep breath*
I have to do a ‘Read More’ because this post got long. But I implore you guys to read on to see the abyss of insanity and bad directions that were taken in regards to the sequel of this movie. Please.
The sequel decided to throw ALL NUANCE AND TACT out of the window and give us such wonderful stories as: 
A white girl and a black girl are on a road-trip and decide to go to the... ugh... Museum of Negrosity where the owner chastises them on thinking that the uncomfortable racist memorabilia he owns (collections of minstrel show cartoons, golliwog and pickaninny dolls) are things of the past instead of acknowledging them as parts of America’s racist past. And, for some reason, the white girl is obsessed with buying one of the golliwog dolls because she had one when she was little. Anyway, they sneak back in later with the white girl’s brother who happens to be the black girl’s boyfriend, so they can steal one of the dolls. Through hijinks, the doll comes to life and grows to the size of a human being. The brother/boyfriend gets whipped to death, the black girl gets cut in half by a minstrel-colored guillotine, and the white girl... Fucks the giant golliwog doll, gets pregnant, and a few days later, has her stomach torn open as a bunch of baby versions of the doll go flying out everywhere.
Some gang-members track down a former pimp who’s changed his ways to try and shake him down for some owed money. He doesn’t comply, so they kill him but, golly-gee! How are they going to get the money now~? Oh, I know! Hold a scam medium hostage so he can perform a seance to talk to the pimp to find out about the money. But, oh no~ It looks like the medium’s powers decide to actually work this time~ Ooh~
Two douchebags hookup with two hot chicks and, after the world’s worst game of Cards Against Humanity, they decide to roofie the girls so they can record themselves raping them so they can post it to ‘le dark web’. ... Lo’ and behold, the girls turn out to be vampires who were playing 4D chess to rope the two douchebags in so they can use them for their own recording-something-brutal-to-post-online scheme. 
And... The LAST one. Oh my God, the LAST ONE. *deep breath* Okay.
So we follow a black republican councilman who is married to a white woman and they’re expecting a baby after a long line of miscarriages. But the wife is having weird bouts of bad dreams and insomnia. What are the bad dreams about? 
... I need you guys to understand. That I am not shitposting when I type the following words. *deep breath* Okay. 
The wife is being haunted by the ghost of Emmett Till telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have her baby. You know? Emmett Till? The victim of one of the most brutal, horrific murders in America due to one of the most disgusting, vile acts of racism? THAT EMMETT TILL?!
So..! The black councilman is working for a white politician who... I’m just going to put a direct quote from the movie so you can get where they were coming from.
“That man wants to close down ten more voting locations, all of them in black districts!”
Anyway, after a house-call from a doctor who brushes off the dreams as hormones, the councilman hosts a party for the politician who’s running slogan is ‘Let’s take Mississippi back!’ Gee-golly-willickers! Can’t imagine where they were coming from with that one!!
So the party goes on, the politician even congratulating our councilman on his ‘white wife’, but said wife rushes downstairs after having another dream; ranting about ‘that boy from the field has decided to LIVE! And if he lives, our baby’s going to die!’ And she runs outside with a machete to try and kill the ghost of Emmett Till (who, again, very real person and victim of racist brutality). 
So the councilman’s mother and the local voodoo expert drive up and the voodoo expert tells the councilman that Emmett Till is trying to talk to him about the nature of sacrifice. The next day, the wife is talking about how her stomach is getting smaller, but the councilman doesn’t want to hear any of it and calls the doctor again. And, guys..?! If shit hadn’t jumped the rails before?! The train just starts doing cartwheels from here. 
The doctor is suspiciously short-tempered with the politician this time around and he does examine the wife to confirm that her stomach is indeed shrinking. However, when he’s told that the councilman is the father, he storms out and snaps “I don’t work for coloreds!” 
Then the wife runs out of bed and tells the doctor that the councilman isn’t her husband and that he kidnapped and raped her. So both the wife and the doctor drive off and the councilman realizes that the world has somehow gone back to the era of Jim Crow. 
... Oooh my gosh, typing this is making me want to commit toaster-bath but it gets so much worse..!
So, after the voodoo expert comes to chastise the councilman about not ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, he is able to see the ghost of Emmett Till (who was a real person, why is this happening..?!) who is there to tell him that he’s decided that he wants to live. Which means that the world will never see the brutal images of his body at his funeral and that will cause a Butterfly Effect in history that will make it so that the Civil Rights Movement never happened. 
You may be questioning the logistics of this, but don’t worry! The ghosts of the girls killed in the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing in Birmingham come to explain and further berate the councilman about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to him’ and working for a racist politician. 
But wait! There’s more! *whines* I keep crying out to God but he won’t answer...
They’re soon joined by the ghosts of the three Freedom Riders who were killed during the Mississippi Burning Murders, the ghost of Civil Rights Activist Medgar Evers, and DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. 
Not to mention several other unnamed figures who walk up while everyone else starts chanting about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, who look like Rosa Parks and Frederick Douglass, just to name a few. 
... I need a drink. I need a cold, stiff drink. ... Almost done. 
So, in comes the Klan. You know, the white-robed bastards; I hear they have an outreach center a few cities away from me. Sure, fine, whatever. The wife is leading them along with the white politician who hits the councilman’s mother in the face with a baton and Emmett Till stops time just as reinforcements show up to tell the councilman that, in order for everything to go back to normal, he has to join the ranks of those who sacrificed. 
“If what you want is worth us dying for, how come its not worth you dying for?!”
And, at first, the councilman disagrees; even being dragged away by Klansmen. However! It’s his wife angrily spitting in his face that makes him realize that this world isn’t the world he wants to live in. So he runs over to Emmett Till to tell him that he will join him... And then he’s beaten to death, becoming a sacrifice to get the world back to normal. And, once it is, his spirit joins Emmett Till’s and walks off into the great beyond. 
So! Not only did this schlocky, B-movie horror movie sequel decide to use a REAL LIFE VICTIM of racism-driven brutality as a story-device, but it also wants to put forth the message that the people who lost their lives during the Civil Rights Movement? Yeah, they HAD to die! Otherwise the Civil Rights Movement would never have happened~!
You see why I hate the sequel to Tales from the Hood so much? Not even mentioning the terrible framing segments of a racial-profiling robot being told these stories so it knows what ‘criminals’ to go after, but this movie is just a temple of ‘WHY?! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?!?!’
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elamimax · 2 years
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So Venom 2 is out and people are back on their monsterfucking business so I wanted to just... yknow, for no real reason, draw attention to the fact that I wrote a very queer novel with the symbiote concept. 
Penumbra is the story of Max, a troubled individual, struggling through life without really knowing what they're doing or where they're going.
Then, they meet Victoria, someone as attracted to weirdness as she is attractive to it. Victoria is interesting, fun and wonderful and she makes Max feel things. They also meet Penny, an alien Symbiote that binds to their nervous system. Penny is weird, young and full of questions, and as a little bonus, gives Max superpowers.
That’s the short version. The long verison is that it’s an exploration of queerness, transness, and especially how those relate to anxiety and depression, but with a twist and through a very different lens (which is why our protagonist isn’t called “Eddie Brock”). Nonetheless, the influences are obviously there. 
Below is an excerpt from fairly early in the story, before Max goes through some gender explorations of their own, 
“How can I trust you? You’re constantly reading my mind,” Max interjected. It was a good point, even if he said so himself. It was hard to trust someone after an invasion of privacy like that, no matter how well intentioned they were.
To be fair, it said, that does go both ways. I can’t think without you hearing it. I’m just better at turning off the big bad brain pan than you are and just listening. Good golly, is it noisy in here, it quipped. 
“Wait, so this isn’t… hold on, so right now, you’re not strictly speaking talking, you’re just thinking and I’m hearing it?”
I live in your head, it said. “Would you prefer I do this instead?” The voice in his head had come out of his mouth that time. His lips had moved of their own accord and the voice that had come out of his face had been his and not-his. Husky, more in-control than he’d ever been. 
“Fuck, that’s freaky.”
Not doing that again without asking you. I feel gross now. Sorry about that, I just thought it was the best way to show you.
“Well, you sure showed me.”
Heh. I sure did. Hey, I have a request. 
“Oh?” 
Pronouns. I’m figuring out what they mean, how they work. You use he and him, but for others you use she, her, they, that kind of thing. I know instinctively it’s a whole thing, but I don’t think I understand.
“Oh, it’s to differentiate between singular and plural, and genders.”
What’s gender?“Hoo boy. Uh… can you find out by looking around?” 
The voice in his head nodded and fell quiet for a second.
Ew. No thanks. I like the concept of femininity, but no gender for me, thanks.
“So I just… use, like, they and them to refer to you?”Yeah, sounds good.“So, what do I call you?” he asked. “Are you a person? 
If we’re gonna talk, I think I’d like to be able to use a name to refer to you. Even if it’s just to myself, yknow?” 
That’s fair. I don’t have one. Not really. 
The voice paused. Can I look around for one? The question had been very polite, almost formal. Max was about to ask what they meant, and then he realized that they were probably asking him for permission to root around in his head. He didn’t see why not. He couldn’t make sense of most of what went on in there anyway. Someone else having a look couldn’t hurt. Thank you, they said. Then, he heard some ‘hmm’s and ‘oh’s as they seemed to peruse his… thoughts? Memories? 
“Find anything in there? Where are you looking, anyway?” Then he felt something he had never felt before. A small part of his brain… itched. An itch on the inside of his head. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but it was a unique sensation from a place he’d never felt it before.
Right here, the voice said, and there was a kind of smug playfulness in the way they’d spoken. Sorry, little joke. When I first joined you, I got a fairly thorough understanding of how to say things to be understood. But the finer stuff… I don’t have access to the pop-culture background you do. Or didn’t, rather. Goodness gracious, there’s a lot of anime in here. He felt the voice giving him the side-eye.
“Don’t judge me,” Max grumbled. 
Nya~ 
“You monster.”
If you enjoyed that little excerpt, you can read literally the entire book for free here. Have fun!
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makeste · 4 years
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BnHA Chapter 275: YAAAAY but Also AHHHHH
Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all “I’M FIGHTING TOMURA AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME” and set everything on fire. Unlike SOME people, however, it turns out fire is NOT Tomura’s weakness, so he basically just shrugged it off. But before things could progress any further, AFO was all “psst, go get One for All” and Tomura was all “? One for All?” and Endeavor was all “?? One for All?” and Deku and Kacchan, who were listening in on their earpieces, were all “!!!” Having thus realized that Tomura was targeting him, Deku sped off to lead him somewhere away from the civilians... accompanied by his good friend Bakugou “274 chapters of character development have all been leading up to this” Katsuki. Because like hell are you going to have an EPIC BATTLE with the FINAL VILLAIN without him, you damn nerd. Who’s he going to heroically sacrifice himself for if you’re not there?? Hahh!?
Today on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan fly off to battle Tomura after confusing Endeavor into giving them his location (which wasn’t very hard lmao). En route, Deku finally thinks to ask Kacchan why he’s tagging along, and Kacchan is all “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S JUST BECAUSE I WANT REVENGE ON TOMURA, AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL, HOW DARE YOU, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT”, which is super convincing and didn’t make me roll my eyes at all. Anyways so then Tomura shows up and is all “EYO TIME TO KILL YOU NOW” and Deku and Kacchan are all “OH SFFKDFK”, but fortunately Gran shows up to save them in the nick of time, because BnHA is literally the only shounen manga in which grown-ups will see kids trying to lead a battle and be like “lol wtf” and actually try to stop that shit instead of being all “what are your orders, children.” The chapter then ends with the heroes doing EXACTLY WHAT THEY SHOULD BE DOING??Namely, having the guy who can TURN OFF QUIRKS battle the guy with the ultimate death quirk! I’m so proud. But also I swear to god, if Tomura so much as breathes suspiciously in his direction...!! What the fuck. HORIKOSHI.
y’all what in the fresh hell is this bs
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not yet there isn’t son but if you keep trolling like this I can give your nervous system something to actually be nervous about
anyway. this was his comment from last week’s issue of Jump, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s referring to, is the fun part! did he cry because of something he was working on in a chapter that’s coming up? or is he just tired from a combination of stressful mangaka schedule + 2020 in general?? or hell, for all I know he just recently watched Titanic or some shit
(ETA: KILLING AIZAWA SHOUTA WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE CRY OUT OF JOY, THOUGH. RIGHT?!)
anyways I guess it’s time to read and see if I feel like sadly happily crying for two hours afterward
-- oh shit I just realized there are two scanlations out for this?? one from readjump.com, and one from readheroacademia.com. lol now what. uhhh
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lulzes. I guess I’ll go with RHA for now and keep checking back to RJ after each page and I’ll go with whichever translation I liked better
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OUR MILLENNIAL VILLAIN
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or would he actually be gen z. he was already in his twenties when this manga started like six years ago, so I’m going with millennial. but on the cusp though I guess. anyway, he plays video games though is the point
and I see he’s already decided to contradict me and my inane speculations not two panels in! I GUESS I AM JUST A FOOL. that’s really interesting though. I wonder if it’s just Monoma’s quirk that doesn’t take the accumulated “save data” from the people he copies from, then? guh. how many of my AFO/OFA theory notes do I have to scrap now
and there’s a little quirk blurb about Search, which is fairly useless given that we already know how it works (actually in even greater detail than shown here), but at least it comes with a cute little picture of Ragdoll in her hero costume, to make us all sad and stuff
so anyways Tomura who are you looking at?? this was a topic of some contention last week! also why were you only seeing nine people then. Ragdoll had seen everyone in 1-A along with Aizawa and her fellow Pussycats at a minimum, so is this confirmation that Tora and Mandalay and Pixie-Bob are all really dead then, because I CAN AND WILL HUNT DOWN A MAN AND MAKE HIM CRY FOR A GOOD DEAL LONGER THAN TWO HOURS IF THAT’S REALLY THE CASE. was Kouta not traumatized enough already?? LET’S JUST ORPHAN HIM AGAIN WHY NOT THAT’S A GOOD PLAN
(ETA: I really hate that we are still up in the air regarding this? and I mean, sure, why not, we only had like a dozen lady heroes to begin with, so why not just kill off two more of them, offscreen, in one fell swoop??)
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WHAT IS A SHAME. TOMURA. DAMN IT
(ETA: ??)
-- well hello there
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OR MAYBE I WAS NOT A FOOL AT ALL?? lol guys. please do not tell me my hobo husband is flying his vengeful ass over to where Tomura all heedless of the danger because I really do not need that just yet. CAN MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS PLEASE FUCKING TAKE TURNS BEING IN TERRIBLE DANGER INSTEAD OF ALL AT ONCE
sob we’re cutting back to Endeavor and Deku and Kacchan. ACTUALLY THAT’S GOOD THOUGH why am I complaining. I’m just gonna have to get used to the fact that no one is going to truly be safe for the next god knows however many chapters, and make my peace with that. hahaha. yeah right
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lmao Deku. “HEY WHAT’S UP, ME AND MY FELLOW CHILD HERE ARE GONNA LURE SHIGARAKI TOWARDS US, BUT WE’LL EXPLAIN OUR REASONS FOR THAT LATER. IF YOU SEE HIM MAKING ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS PLEASE INFORM US SO AS TO AID US IN THIS PLAN.” Endeavor if you just go along with this I will lose so much respect for you lmao
lol he is trying to argue a bit but then he’s suddenly cutting off. so in hindsight I don’t know why I said “lol”, really. I’M JUST NERVOUS OKAY
btw in the other translation Deku straight up asks if Endeavor can redirect Tomura towards them. “sure no problem bucko, let me just tell the walking apocalypse exactly where he can find you, my two sixteen-year-old interns whose safety I am responsible for. I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t had my fill of crazy ill-thought-out plans with a high risk of death today”
holy --
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okay I have not the SLIGHTEST clue what’s going on here, even after analyzing both scans, except that someone, probably Tomura, either just went CRONCH or just GOT cronched just now lmao. let us read on to find out who was cronched and who did the cronching
the rest of this page is not really much more helpful
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but I am becoming increasingly suspicious that those were in fact Tomura’s new, improved and ridiculously thicc legs doing the cronching as he did a Marvel Superhero Landing from the most RIDICULOUS ANGLE POSSIBLE
LMAO NOW WHAT
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so he just cronched onto the ground and fooshed Endeavor and then went flying off again huh
LMAO AT EVERYTHINNNNNG
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THANK YOU ENJI. HE’LL LURE HIM AWAY. lols WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM WHICH WAY HE WAS HEADED YOU BOOB
he really just fucking hung up on him afterwards too. just, “got it thanks amigo just leave everything to me, [CLICK]”
OH MY GOD
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BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE CONVENIENTLY INTERFERING WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR LITTLE THROWDOWN OF DESTINY HUH. THAT WOULD JUST BE TERRIBLE
-- oh shit
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that’s just. a SLIGHT change in meaning, there. silly me. thinking “get rid of them” meant “get rid of their communications as opposed to FUCKING KILLING THE ONE YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY AFTER. hmm. well that’s not good
(ETA: never have I been so happy that a translation was wrong lmao.)
so now Endeavor’s shouting at everyone else that Tomura is heading southwest and that he has “SUPER REGENARTION” (sic) and is no longer THE SAME THUG HE WAS BEFORE and yeah RHA you have officially won me over, flaws and all. listen up boyos. this ain’t your granddaddy’s Shigaraki Tomura. this one regenars
also “that damn kid...” like why the hell did my son have to go and befriend two protagonists. why is this my life now
AHAHAHAHA
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“MIDORIYA IS IN DANGER...!!” STORY OF THIS MANGA. AHAHA. KACCHAN HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING, KACCHAN. for you two. someone please help me I am both terrified and thrilled beyond all recognition and my body doesn’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions. honestly crying for two hours is starting to sound more and more appealing
oh my god I forgot they didn’t know, though
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fff. Kacchan especially didn’t know, because unlike Deku he doesn’t have random bits of other people’s souls going “heyyyyyyy... transcendent being at 12 o’clock.” what has this kid so bravely and stupidly gone and gotten himself into
look at them go
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damn Deku can you really not float yet?? that’s going to be really inconvenient if that’s the case
(ETA: my boy really would have just straight up died. he would have died so hard.)
OH MY GOD
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NOW YOU WANT TO ASK HIM LMAOOOO. well it’s because of all the character development!! if you must know
THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER BLASTY MCANGERTY
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you’re not as smooth as you think you are, you know. we all know why you actually followed him. but fine, be that way
okay so now he’s giving a real-er answer though
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“understand the situation”, the situation being that your best friend and his secret-trump-card-in-the-battle-against-evil quirk were being targeted by the guy who just obliterated this entire city. got it. you put it quite succinctly
and Deku is all
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and Kacchan is all
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love how he throws that protagonist crack in there too. because we all know that Deku absolutely is the protagonist lol, and so if that part’s obviously not true, we can make some inferences about the rest of what he’s saying too now can’t we
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap
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YOU SURE DO!! and he does with you too!! :) it’s gonna be one big happy reunion! :) :) :) oh gosh golly
OH NO KATSUKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING
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what are you doing to me, I should clarify. please be considerate of my feelings. you can’t just DUMP sudden Kacchan Kamino Angst on me without any warning, you have to let me know in advance so that I can buy some thank you cards
THERE’S MOREEEEE???
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YOU REMEMBER TOO, DON’T YOU DEKU. HE WAS ALL CRYING AND STUFF. IT WAS A LOT. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE NEVER PERSONALLY GOTTEN OVER IT
AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEVER QUITE GOT OVER IT EITHER
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:’)
by the way in the other translation he says “I’ll make up for what I did that day.” so yeah. BOOM. right to the heart. shot of me collapsing to the ground in slow motion
but it’s interesting though that he still can’t admit to having selfless motives yet! even after everything he’s been through and all his character growth! he’s still all GET RID OF THE REFERENCES TO ME CARING ABOUT YOU, WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE HAVE FEELINGS
but even his Kamino feels are notably first and foremost about him feeling responsible for failing All Might. so yeah, buddy. where does that leave you? even your feeble excuses are still rooted in selflessness, JUST GIVE IN AND ADMIT YOU’VE BEEN SECRETLY GIVING A SHIT BEHIND EVERYONE’S BACK. and honestly he might be better off at this point if he didn’t! BUT HE DOES. and that’s that
anyways Deku I sure hope you and your big hero brain can see right through this nonsense
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god. you’re both in so much danger though, do you even have any idea?! of course you fucking don’t. god
HELLO BAKUGOU NARRATION!?!
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well that’s one hell of a rare sight!! all fresh and chock full of shrewd observations about his best rival’s current skillset. ah what a time we’re living in
ooooh
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gonna hold off commentary until I read the next part of this lol
OOOOOH
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goddamn. Horikoshi really went off this week. just a whole chapter’s worth of Stuff Makeste Really Likes, goddamn is it my birthday or what
so do you guys think he’ll be able to keep pace all the way up to 100%? I can see this part being interpreted in two totally different ways if I’m being honest. on the one hand we have the more pessimistic (some would say realistic) view that Bakugou is desperately trying to convince himself that he’s still on the same level as the rival he so desperately wants to surpass, but with the sinking feeling that he’s actually not going to be able to keep up for much longer. and then on the other side of the coin we have the more glass-half-full perspective that he actually is capable of keeping up with him right to the bitter end. that even as Deku grows stronger, he’ll continue to push himself and use that as motivation to keep getting stronger too. that Deku isn’t out of reach; that his goal isn’t out of reach
and I’m not completely sure which way this is leaning myself! I personally would like to lean more towards the second interpretation, because y’all know I love me some rivals. and also because imo one of the most commendable things about Bakugou’s development has been how he hasn’t once been envious of Deku’s strength or of his position as All Might’s chosen heir since he learned about OFA. he hasn’t once shown any kind of resentment towards him for it, or doubted whether or not he deserves it. and as minor a detail as that may seem to some people, I cherish it. and I don’t want that to change! but I guess we shall see
so now we’re getting the clearest shot we’ve had yet of the new AFO holes in Tomura’s palms as he gets ready to combine some more quirks. also! more information about the quirks he has and is using! fucking thank you, where was this last week
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so “radio waves” is clearly going to be used here to disrupt the heroes’ communication, which is a shame for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved given the alternative! the RJ translation is clearly just a hot mess lol. but I still adore that one “I’ll make up for what I did” line though
WOW
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THE DISRESPECT. LOL DID YOU JUST FUCKING KILL HIS ASS
(ETA: I just realized he’s nowhere to be found after this, though, so... did he?? or is he now lying somewhere now all wounded and waiting to be found by one, or, dare I say, two of his sons? ...)
LKDFJLSDKGHOSIDGHOISDflkwejfdfsdklggdflgnfdlgndakgalkgldfdfkwlfwiowelKLDSGKSL:DKGJL:DKFM?G?SGSDLKG?SDFSDF??LKJ@L!
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HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT
HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT
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even if you ask him nicely??! somehow I just can’t help feeling that he probably shouldn’t oblige you, though!?!?!
anyways. THAT AIN’T SAFE. and what the hell is happening in that bottom left corner ahhhhhh
AHHHHHHH
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GRAN DM ME YOUR ADDRESS I WANT TO SEND YOU SOME FLOWERS AND A BASKET OF FRUIT AND CRACKERS AND SOME LITTLE CHEESES AND SAUSAGES
jesus christ it completely slipped my mind that there was one other person currently in the vicinity who knows about OFA. my good sir, maybe you would like to introduce these two dunderfucks to the concept of a “plan.” and maybe you can also find the single shared braincell they apparently dropped and lost somewhere back there in all the city rubble
oh fuck me
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(ETA: does Kacchan look so rattled here because he is being lectured, or because he just saw a vision of his own death and is now having it explained to him just how close he came to being decomposed. you decide! I’ll just sit here and bask in the angst.)
fuck. main character gods were really working overtime here. anyways so how are you all doing this fine Friday afternoon. me, I’m just sitting here wrangling with the knowledge that Tomura’s quirk is even deadlier than I realized, and that my two little boys came within inches of dying horrible deaths just now. but anyways it’s not as humid today as it was yesterday so that’s really nice
anyways so now Gran is continuing to lecture the mayor of Dumb Ideas Town here, along with his friend the deputy mayor who still thinks he outranks the actual mayor
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SHH NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR GRANDPA
-- ohhhh shit son are they mounting a counterattack?? don’t tell me!!
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also is Gran seriously faster than Tomura. that makes no fucking sense, and yet these two are only alive now because of it so I’M SURE NOT GONNA QUESTION IT
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
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AND IS AIZAWA ON HER BACK THOUGH???
AHAHHAHAHAHAHA
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AH, BUT IT AIN’T GONNA WORK THOUGH, IS IT!!! AHAHAHA YESSSSSS
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excellent question sir. the short answer is “they’re idiots”, and the long answer is just a longer version of “they’re idiots” but with some more complicated BakuDeku feels mixed in. I’ll tell you all about it if you just promise me that you’ll actually live through this, all right?
“is he after the two of them?” listen boy if you don’t finally put two and two together after this I’m gonna be fucking beside myself lol. (though honestly, Deku and Kacchan have been targeted by the League so many other times already that he might just simply accept “yeah they’re after them again” without any further explanation)
my dear gentlefolk would you fucking look at how the lord has blessed us on this day
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Aizawa Fucking Shouta and the motherfucking dramatic intro to end all dramatic intros. finally this man gets his moment
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someone please teach me how to cast a force field. teach me how to reach into the manga and slap this man and tell him to stop talking about how everyone’s noble sacrifices to protect him and his eraser quirk have led him to this day and to this one encounter. my guy. my fucking dude. THERE HAD BETTER BE SUBSEQUENT ENCOUNTERS AFTER THIS
NOOOOOOOOOOOO
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ISN’T HE THOUGH??? Tomura I love you sweetie but you better BACK THE FUCK. OFF
well FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY. it’s not like my life revolves around you and your stupid manga anyway!! it’s not like I’m obsessed with it or anything!! I have other hobbies!! well I actually do have other hobbies, so that doesn’t really work as sarcasm, so let’s see though. maybe something more like, “this isn’t by far my favorite out of all my hobbies!!” I don’t spend 80-90% of my free time on any given day either actively or passively daydreaming about this series and writing essays in my head and reading fanfic and scrolling through art on tumblr!! etc.!! whatever!! enjoy your break!! have fun living your life!!
please don’t kill Aizawa
127 notes · View notes
vylequinnewriting · 3 years
Text
Telvan Tale: Whale of a Time
Here’s the first Telvan Tale! (More information can be found here) It’s probably one of the most horrific ones I’ll write so viewer discretion is advised. It’s heavily inspired by a mix of myths around Alcatraz and typical slasher story tropes. Instead of writing of a retelling of the urban legend, I instead chose to write the truth that no one knows. 
Content Rating: Mature
Content Warnings (send me an ask if you think of a tag that should be added): Graphic violence, blood & gore, murder, forced captivity,  cannibalism, death, extensive body horror, war (mentioned), memory loss
Word Count: 2374
Telvan Tale Taglist (ask to be added/removed): 
General Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @ecwrenn
“The best time in my life was when I went to Kromhold.”
“Well golly, that makes me feel great to hear but you don’t look like you're having a whale of a time.” I laugh heartily. Not much I can do for him besides try to lighten the mood. 
“I mean before all the barbed wire and concrete.” He takes his head out of his hands and looks off to the window. I know that look, I invented it. It isn't focused on what’s here or what’s to come, is to look back on what was. He didn’t need to say much past that. He’s told me plenty about him and where we are. His tone is genuine and his gaze is forlorn enough that I can’t help but feel pity for him. 
My friend here talks about Kromhold when it was under a different name. I remember those days but not as clearly as him. This was back when it was a castle open to all instead of a fortress designed to contain and isolate. One could enter for a pittance and in exchange be given a memory worth a lifetime. Decadent foodstuffs lined every street. A friend lurking behind every corner. Every poster, every coat of paint, every leaf was prim and proper. I’s were dotted and T’s were crossed. It was wonderfully, perfectly, saccharine. All thanks to an anonymous benefactor, Bellanaya was able to stay open for years, ensuring at least three generations had seen its glistening walls. That was the past, and all that’s left now is a bitter aftertaste.
“What was your favorite part? Mine was the whale watching. I could catch up with the whole family from right on the beach.” Another jest, but what could I do, tell the truth?
“The teacups.” He nodded, as if to agree with himself. “Definitely the teacups.”
“You always striked me as a coffee person.”
“No, no,” waving his arms like he’s swatting away my witty retort. “The ride. Never could handle most of the others, even the bumper cars would tumble my stomach around like a washing machine. I threw up plenty of times on the trip here. “ He looks out the window and locks eyes with the sky.
Even in the past he wasn’t worth his salt it seems. It’s fair I suppose, the only thing he has to hang onto is me after all. Even his skin looks ready to leave him. Dry and gray, it clung to his bones shivering with shallow, dissonant breaths. He had to look better than this at some point, if he’d been here back in the heyday. The cars were taken out around the 14th year of business. Another 11 before we had to close up shop. Back then his name wouldn’t have mattered, only how much he was willing to spend. They needed it more than he would. But just like everything else, discounts and promotions wouldn’t help what was to come.
He takes a break from his staring match and sighs. “How’d this happen? You were here from when the park was still a park, weren’t you? What happened?” 
I let loose a giggle. Unintentional and all it does is serve to unnerve him. We’ve had this conversation so many times I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of this situation. Despite all the trust I’ve cultivated with him, he has troubling matching eyes with me. Granted, all he can do is look down at me from this position. “You aren’t from around here are you? From the south I bet, beyond the sea and all?” He doesn’t need to answer yes, he’s already talked about the plains where he lived enough for me to guess with certainty. I continue, “The same thing happened to this place that happened everywhere. Money was the only thing keeping us in business. Memories stopped being made and started being sold. Then the war hit the mainland. We were ready to shut down and leave, but that wasn’t an option with the flames licking away at the island. So we stayed. When all was said and done, the Sangreguila came and forced us to stay open. As you can see, the objective was still to give our visitors memories they wouldn’t be able to forget. This time they couldn’t leave.” 
He curls up into a ball at the foot of his cot. “Zastüd didn’t help.” He couldn’t help but shudder and sniffle after uttering those words. For some it was a victory the likes of which no one had seen, and for others it was a loss felt around the world. He fell into the later camp it seems. A shame.
“Wiping a city off the map didn’t do much for international relationships. Not to mention Zastüd was a technological marvel. It was even worse that they couldn’t find out who did it. After everyone was done pointing fingers, they picked a couple patsies to throw in here and tossed the key in the ocean. They wanted to make a place for just the absolute worst society had to offer. People who wanted the world to burn and chose to do so with their own hands. Just like you.” Those words hurt him, but I know he couldn’t redirect his anger at me. I’d been his only friend since he arrived here in Kromhold. 
Gods, I hate that name. Cold and hard, so I guess it's at least truthful. Bellanaya was such a better name. Regardless, Kromhold did it’s best to break him down but he refused. He was innocent, after all. When he’d first arrived he was greeted with a fist to the mouth. Despite his absolutely rancid reputation and overpowering stature, he fell apart at the first sign of a conflict. Being given what was in essence a death sentence didn’t help his confidence either. Those who wanted fights found a whimpering dog. Those who wanted friends found a monster only held back by a tight leash. But then he found me.
I’ve been the only companion this poor boy has known. I’ve given myself the task of helping him throughout this trial. The only way I can is to help him remember. The good times, the bad times, the times in between, they all fade away with a nice rosy pink when you look back on them. It was my Mother who first told me about what I could do. She once had it herself but thought it better to give it to me. “People will always forget about you until they need you,” she said. I’ve always hated that word. Forget. I still took the gift gratefully, it was my Mother’s and to have anything from her was the greatest honor. Even now, that gift is the only thing I have of value. It’s all the boy has needed fortunately. As long as I flash a smile or say some outdated slogan he stays sated for the day. It’s a small price to pay for what he’s done for me. He always forgets the next day or sometimes even right after I’m done speaking but I’ll always start talking to him the next time he asks.
“Oh gawrsh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Best friends don’t hurt best friends right?” I squirmed over and offered a “hand”.
 He looks up and wipes his face. He appears to mull it over but I know his answer. He takes my loose fibers in his claws and mutters, “Friends till the end.” 
I hate being in this position but it’s the only way I’m still here. At least I’m not in the same situation as the other mascots. They usually “enforce” the rules around here along with the standard armed guards. One of the boys on my friend’s block snapped and stabbed one, only to find out it was another prisoner. Warden made sure they stayed in character and kept silent, permanently. The rumor was the Warden wore the suits too, but no one had the fortitude to try and hunt him down after the first incident. The boy came to me that day, crying up a storm. Took ages to calm him down. When he could finally look me in the eye, I didn’t miss the gleam in his eye. It came from a deep, dark place that even he didn’t know he had. Perfect, I thought. 
Many a day and night has passed and that boy has turned into an old man. He’ll still be a boy to me, bright eyed and gentle, not wanting to hurt a fly. This place changed him. It made him rough and broken. This is one of the few days he can speak to me with clarity. Normally, he can’t help but keep looking out that window and hoping for something different. I think it’s high time I gave that to him. This is not the first time I’ve said these words, but I believe it is the first time he’ll hear them. 
“Do you remember your first day here? They needed five men to drag you in. All you could do was scream ‘I’m innocent’. That didn’t matter to them. Everyone in here could be innocent of their crimes but the guards don’t care. Still, they needed five to bring you in, and that wasn’t even with you trying, bud.” 
He looks wide-eyed. Confused, even. Enough to register what I said. That’s all the proof I need to continue. 
“Do you remember the day you met me?” He shakes his head. Words escape him and so does the memory. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just a scratch on the floor and a prayer sitting in between the walls. Forgotten. All I could do was sit, wait and listen. And then you came in. You wanted to never forget. Not Kromhold, but Bellanaya. It was pretty shoddy workmanship but you made a burlap sack into the spitting image of Wilfredo the Whale. You know, me! I scared you half to death the first time I talked but we’ve been friends since then.”
He grinned ear-to-ear. Revealing a row of sharpened, yellow teeth. Not fit for anything but meat. Ironic since all he’s eaten for the past couple of years is gruel.
 “I remember.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“Excuse me?” He’s a bit taken aback. Understandable but unwanted and unnecessary. All I need is a “yes”, not a “yes and”. 
“What would you do if I said I could take you back? To the days where you were free. No man could control you. If they tried, they’d learn why they shouldn’t. You are the only important person to me. I can’t let you rot in this cell.”
“What do you mean you can take me back?” There wasn’t disbelief in his voice, only contemplation. They love it when you play the hero. Thanks for teaching me that lesson, Lecuto. What a wonderful Sister. 
“I can give you back your body, silly. All you need is to put me on your head. Say the magic words, then watch as the magic happens.”
He thought for a second. And then another second. He did not take a third. Years upon years of friendship does that. I waited initially, just to add a sense of suspense. I’d do my Mother wrong if I didn’t have a dramatic flair. 
“What are the magic words?” There was a slight tremble to his voice. He didn’t believe something so incredulous despite my entire existence. Hilarious.
“There aren’t any.”
My body didn’t have much to offer as it was, so I could do little besides spread my fibers. A bit of resistance and they began to slink under the skin. All the natural pathways of his body were too easy to explore, invade, and conquer. He didn’t have much to offer in terms of a protest. Was it shock that I’d betray him so easily or was it a staunch belief that I’d help him? 
It mattered little in the face of what I was presented with. All the juicy goods he’d amassed over the years sitting in front of me like a feast before a king. The first birthday he could remember was light and refreshing in a place like this. Benito, his childhood hound was next to go, rich and flavorful, like his surprisingly long life span. Almost fifteen years, that one. As delicious as they were, they were unimportant. 
Ah, here it is. 
His first kill. The rage. The bloodlust. The emptiness. The overwhelming fear. And finally, hunger. 
He’d never truly been strong, especially when it comes to impulse control. The other piece I’d needed came soon after, about five or so years. Countless bodies scoured those days but none were like the first. He became complacent and slow. He wanted to savor the meal rather than simply consume. When he was caught he had nothing but regret. He said plenty that meant nothing to the Sangreguila. It wasn’t his hands that made the first cut. He wasn’t there to bathe in blood, he merely slipped onto a scene and unsuccessfully tried to make himself scarce. That wasn’t flesh stuck between his teeth, he just so happened to rip into livestock with reckless abandon moments earlier. 
I could tell some didn’t deserve the pain Kromhold had  inflicted upon them. My friend here was not one of those poor souls. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why they didn’t shoot him right then and there. Haven’t they heard the saying “a legend is made when someone hides the truth?” 
When I was done sifting through his head, I drained out all that wasn’t important. I didn’t require much magic to remold his shape back to those years. He still remembered them fondly somewhere deep down. Muscles atrophied by years of misuse and malnutrition now pulsed with power. Legs that trembled with each step stood straight. Teeth that reeked of disease and looked a putrid yellow instead became fierce, white fangs. A perfect weapon to be used by me. I couldn't have wished for a better present. Now only one thing was left.  To leave this prison behind with a trail of terror. 
No one will ever forget me again.
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royalprinceroman · 4 years
Text
Finding My Place [Part 1]
Heya there everyone! Today is a super special day! Today is @availe‘s birthday! Maxi is one of my very best friends, one of the most important people to me in the world so I told her to pick two pairings and I would write a fic about them. I wasn’t sure what the topic would be so I just kinda let the words flow!
This is a bullet fic because writing a whole fic is hard right now with my current state in life so I apologize.
This fic includes (in its entirety not just this part): human AU, Anxceitmus (QPR Remus/Virgil and QPR Deceit/Virgil, Demus is romantic in the ship), Logince, swearing, violence mention, angst, depression, suicidal mentions, fainting, general not taking care of yourself moods, drugs, alcohol, and.... all sides are shown in a positive light, if that matters. It’s an AU anyway.
Devyn = Deceit (That’s also important LOL)
With all that said, please enjoy!
---
Devyn knows a lot of things. He considers himself an expert in some fields but still a jack of all trades in certain situations. However, there is one thing he feels he lacks. No matter how much he thinks about it, researches it, and records the process and its results, the outcome is always the same.
"Remus, you can't just hang up those creepy curtains on the front window!" Virgil calls up the stairs. The man in question cackles and Virgil growls back. "Don't expect your villain laugh to get you out of everything. I already got an earful from the lady next door about it disturbing her kids."
"Ahhh they'll get used to it." Remus says as he walks down the stairs to meet Virgil at the bottom. He stays on the second to the last step, making himself nearly a head taller than Virgil. Without warning, Remus wraps his arms around Virgil's neck and squeezes as a big smile appears on his face. "Oh golly gee, I just love you Virgil."
The black haired boy couldn't prevent the smirk that appears on his face as he leans back and kisses Remus on the cheek. "Mhmhm… love to be a pain in my neck is more accurate."
Both of them laugh before turning to see Devyn standing in the doorway to the kitchen across from the stairs, staring at them intently. 
"Do we have something on our face?" Virgil questions before Remus jumps down and runs to Devyn, almost slapping him with his arms instead of wrapping him in a hug.
"No…" Devyn assures. He leans his head against Remus. The smallest boy fits perfectly under Devyn's arm and Virgil walks over slowly, Devyn reaching and grabbing Virgil's right hand. He brings it to his lips, kissing it gently. 
"I want a kiss!" Remus pouts.Devyn obliges, kissing him on his forehead. Remus feels his cheeks burning red as he hides his face in his partner's chest.
"Is something the matter?" Virgil questions.
"No." Devyn says quickly as a blink of panic passes Virgil's eyes. "I just still have yet to fully understand what I've done in this world to deserve this with both of you." His voice trails off at the end as his gaze fell along the house surrounding them. 
Boxes scattered everywhere, some half empty as they unpacked to live in this new beautiful home. One picture was on the mantle above the fireplace: a shot of all three of them in suits: Devyn in yellow, Virgil in a deep purple, and Remus in a forest green, framed in a brown oak frame. Their wedding day only a month prior. 
"Dee…" Remus says softly as he hugs Devyn tightly. 
Devyn feels himself remembering. He tells the two he wants to take a break while they unpack upstairs. The two agree after giving him more hugs. Devyn sits on the couch in the living room.
xxx
Devyn had just been released from prison two years prior. 
He had been wrongfully charged with murder and had his life turned upside down for over ten years.
Upon release, he met Remus at a local gay bar. He hadn't intended on falling in love with the strange man but it just sort of happened. 
Devyn quickly learned Remus was already in a relationship.
Devastated by this, Devyn cut off all contact with Remus and stopped going to that specific bar all together. 
Drinking his sorrows away at a bar closer to his home, Devyn accepts that his life as a 32 year old gay man meant that he was probably doomed to be alone forever. 
Music started playing and he realizes it was live, playing in the next room over.
He peeked in to see a huge crowd surrounding a stage. Neon purple lights lit up the band. A lead singer with a guitar, a bass player, a drummer, and a… violinist? Wait, what?
The music was beautiful and the singing amazing, but Devyn couldn't tear his eyes away from the violinist. 
Such perfect strokes and form, the melody tore right at Devyn's heart. 
The song finished with a dramatic solo from the violinist and Devyn applauded along with the crowd. 
He listened to the voices around him closely, trying to figure out who they were.
"My gosh they're all so amazing! Virgil knocked it out tonight! How does he play the violin so well??"
"Gotta give props to Roman too! He goes through those low notes to high so easily. Is he even human with that range?"
"Nah nah did you listen to that drum solo? My boy Logan is the most talented by far. The technical details in his playing is just… so damn good."
"But Patton's bass solo was good too! He's come a long way in the short time he's been playing."
"Flight of the Hearts is just an amazing band. They're gonna take the world by storm, I just know it!"
Devyn stared at the band and they signed and took photos with fans at the foot of the stage. He wanted to hear more. 
He noticed a merch table just next to them and wondered over. Two self published CDs were on the table “Dreamer” and “Cyclone” and one of just Virgil's violin creations called "Calming Yourself". 
Devyn never purchased anything faster in his life. 
A bell went off above his head once he purchased it all. 
"Major sale! All CDs plus a shirt!" A voice shouted.
Devyn felt himself wish he wasn't where he was.
Until---
The whole band came over behind the table.
"Hey thanks for your support!"
Devyn recognizes him as the lead singer (Roman?) He was built like a jock, a football player to be specific, but had very soft eyes and a gentle smile.
"Dearheart, there's no reason to yell at him. He looks utterly confused. I told you that bell wasn't the best idea…"
The drummer… Logan right? He was smaller than Roman by over a foot at least. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose (was he wearing those on stage?) and he pushed them up. He had an air of a person who would win on Jeopardy by a mile. Logan had his arm around Roman's waist, pulling him gently back. 
"Thanks for purchasing all of our work! We really appreciate it!"
Another glasses wearer? Oh it's Patton, the bassist. Right, right. He seemed the most genuine and down to earth, at least in this instance. He gestured to take the CDs back.
"Come on everyone let's sign them!" Patton called out to his bandmates.
Roman and Logan returned, holding hands and Roman kissing their entangled fingers.
Devyn wanted what they had, desperately. He felt an emptiness in his heart.
Without realizing it, Devyn had Virgil standing in front of him closer than he would've liked. 
"Can I help you?" Devyn demanded. 
Virgil squinted his eyes and frowned. "What's your name?"
Accusatory voice, mean look… the glare peeking through his long bangs and was that heavy eyeshadow?
"We just wanna sign your stuff! Right… Virgil?"
Patton clearly fell the same unease emanating off of Virgil as Devyn did. The more he stared back at Virgil, the more angry Devyn became. 
"My name is Devyn. What about it?" Harsh tone, spat in anger.
"I knew it. I recognized that scar on your face. How fucking dare you?!" Virgil leaped over the table. "How dare you break my Remus's heart, you bastard?!"
The crowd began chanting. "Fight, fight, fight!" and before he realized it, Devyn was about to punch Virgil before both of them were pulled back. Patton had pulled back Virgil and Devyn realized Roman had grabbed him under his arms with his own.
Security had quickly corralled everyone out of the tiny room, leaving only Devyn with the band. 
Logan stood between the two warring ones. 
"What are you talking about?" Devyn demanded, shaking off Roman, nodding to agree he wouldn't fight. 
"Remus has been so upset since you cut him off. He loved you, you dickhead!" Virgil was basically foaming at the mouth. His eyes were red and filled with tears. "Why? What possessed you to do that to him?" 
Devyn's memory flashed to the last image of Remus he remembered. Smiling brightly at him as he left the bar that night over a month before. Devyn had blocked and deleted his number. Basically ghosted him. 
But…
Remus had been in a relationship, right? Devyn didn't want to force his way in and hurt someone else. 
Devyn looked up to see Patton comforting Virgil in his arms, shhhing him like a small child.
A hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced over.
Roman. 
He had a sad look in his eyes. 
"Allow me to explain, Devyn. I'll start from the beginning. I am Roman, lead singer of "Flight of the Hearts". This is my partner, Logan, our drummer. The one holding our dearest violinist, Virgil, is the wonderful Patton. He is also Virgil's older brother. Virgil's partner is Remus… the man who works at The Half Side of the Full on Center Street. He's also my twin."
Devyn blinked and realized in that moment that Roman was the spitting image of Remus, only taller and a bit more buff. He was also missing Remus's adorable mustache but that was beside the point. 
"I left Remus because he told me about you." Devyn started, glancing at Virgil. "Never mention you by name of course. Just that he had the most amazing boyfriend in the world and I decided I didn't want to break my own heart. So I left him and his perfect life alone. Because who needs a fucked up person like me in his life?!"
Devyn realized he was shouting but he didn't care. He also ignored the tears rolling down his face. His scar around his left eye burning from the salt in his tears. Devyn knew in that moment he'd always be a fuck up somehow. 
"Remus was so important to me. I love him more than anything. Because… he allowed me to forget and move on. I was no longer trapped in my lying, deceitful past. I was able to actually be me."
Devyn turned and shoved past Roman only to stop short of the exit, blocked by a familiar face. 
"Remus…" it barely left Devyn's mouth. 
"I never got to tell you." Remus said. "I was going to tell you I loved you the next day. And I wanted you to meet my boyfriend because we're both poly and you had mentioned in passing you were too. I didn't press it because well… I wasn't sure how much you enjoyed how I am."
Devyn had never seen Remus so calm. It was weird and he didn't like it. He liked his Remus bouncing off the walls, talking about his latest findings on the side of the road; alive or dead. He liked Remus when he tried to make fake blood to put on the windows for Halloween and it ended up being actual animal blood because that's how obsessed Remus was with what he did.
This calm demeanor didn't suit the wacky man at all.
"Like them…? Remus… I adore you. You were so true to yourself in ways I couldn't predict. I love that even though you were pushed away by society for who you are… you didn't let that change you. You refused to live a lie. Something I had done all my life."
Remus crossed the gap between them and in one full motion, pulled Devyn down like a princess, holding him gently in his arms.
"Let me do what I've been holding back for so long." Remus begged.
Devyn nodded and they kissed. It was soft at first, tickling Devyn's upper lip with Remus's rough mustache, before Devyn felt it deepen even further. He didn't want it to stop…
"Geez, brother! Get a room!" Roman blurted which caused the two to pull away.
Devyn licked his lips and Remus did as well, promising more later.
Remus allowed Devyn to stand as they walked back over to the rest of the group. Virgil reintroduced himself and apologized as did Devyn. Remus explained that Virgil is his QPP as Virgil is asexual and quoiromantic. Both were fine having other partners. Devyn joked about the fact that maybe he would fall for Virgil too if Virgil played him the violin more. The group laughed even though Devyn was dead serious.
As it turned out, the band, including Remus, lived together in a rented house just down the street. It wasn't glamorous or anything but enough to keep all of them out of the rain and comfortable.
As they walked in, Virgil asked Devyn about his living conditions and he dodged the question by bringing up food. 
Remus grabbed Devyn's hand and squeezed, asking again.
Devyn admitted to living in a Motel 6. It was all he could afford after being released from jail. His factory job was paying him well now but he had to consider uber fees to get to and from work. The off three days working four was nice too but he had to be careful. He had no savings to fall back on. 
Remus jumped up. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"My past is not something I am proud of." Devyn admitted. "But… it is something I should explain before we get too far into things."
To Be Continued….
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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years
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The Truths Found On Petram Viridios IV (5/5)
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A/N: The last chapter to this fic. It's a long one and I gotta say that I've had a lot of fun with this one. After I post this chapter, I'll be sure to post the masterpost for this fic. And of course it'll be available on ao3 soon enough.
Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
__________
Chapter 5: Adore You
If you had to draw a map to find the way home once you were captivated by the gaze of those trustworthy, soft eyes of his, you would surely run out of ink; pools of blue, unwavering in their affection, drew you in, and you were willing to drown in them. There were facets about them that fascinated you as much as the scales of a butterfly did; they did not shimmer, but they gleamed and sparkled; it's what made you pause and search for a wisp of an acquaintance that very first time you saw him; finding a familiarity that threatened to sweep you away. Why you even found fire in those eyes; it was there in his moments of determination and passion. Oh, how their color shifted with his moods was a type of magic you wanted to spend the rest of your life being mesmerized by. To be sure he wasn't mistaken, he dare not blink; exhibiting the full spectrum of what Billie Eilish described as ocean eyes; he had to be sure. "Y-you do?"
"Yes," you giggled. "I do."
It wouldn't occur to you till later, that he had given you a choice. For instead of the typical proposal question, where it was more asserted, Rick asked in a manner in which there was equal footing; it spoke volumes of the respect he had for you. With shaky hands, he slipped a ring whose stone was as clear and blue as his eyes and cut perfectly like a rose, the band covered in gold vines and silver leaves which weaved together; he made it himself, and if you thought back far enough, you could remember when he was ambiguous about his plans to create a new type of stone. Honestly, you didn't realize it would be for this.
"Gosh," he sniffled. "I-I promised myself that I w-wouldn't cry."
But cry he would; fat, sloppy tears that blinded one's vision. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and fought to regain composure, but lost to the new wave which followed. You gently pried his hands away from his face, softening at his tear-stained cheeks. "It's okay, you can cry if you want to. I already know how tender you are."
Goodness, how long had he wanted to do this? For while it had almost been two years in which he had last attempted to, it might've been on his mind for much longer than that; eating away at his clarity; at the self-confidence that was torn down and repaired daily. You were grateful and proud that this man wanted you; that he finally gathered the courage to ask and do as he intended and wanted. You….you had wanted this to happen, but did he know that? Your ocean of inquisitions thought otherwise.
However, it was time to quiet and quell his despondent thoughts. Your fingers dug into the collar of his sweater; the tang of nervous sweat and something so him which wafted off him made you yearn to bring him closer. The puffiness about his eyes didn't discourage you from pressing a kiss at the corner of them and from his throat came a choked sob and you were surrounded by the sounds of his disbelief; this cacophony was breaking your heart. There had to be something you could do to ease him. "Ricardo," you started, "considering the suddenness of the occasion, should we, in like fashion…my dear honey man, would you like to get married today?"
This new tidbit caught him off guard; so much so that he stopped crying; good. Now, he was the one who was unsure of whether this was real life or a simulation. He ran his fingers through his hair, double-checked his equipment, sprayed himself with water, and completed equations that had taken this earth dimension's leading mathematicians decades to understand. What you thought was odd was when he caught a pigeon, scanned its anatomy, and found it was sound; you were going to have to ask him about it later. "Rick, did you hear me?"
"Y-yes," he focused, "but what d-do you mean today? How?"
You figured he would have easily come to a conclusion, but then again, what do spacemen have to do with the price of bread?
"I mean that we don't have to wait if you don't want to." You slid your palm over his tattoo, memorizing with your fingertips where his skin was slightly raised. "We can just go down to the justice of the peace if you'd like."
"And y-you would be my wife today?"
"Yes," you giggled. "I think that's how it works."
"But what about a-a…"
"A wedding ceremony?" you interrupted. "Well, we can have one later. We can plan it however you want, and invite all our friends. There can be so much celebration that we'll be knocked out for a week. Until then, I just want to make you happy, and I believe the sooner the better. Okay? So, if we're going to do this, just tell me now and I'll go get the proper paperwork."
It never ceased to amaze you how easily he flitted through emotions as though it were the weather, and with vigor, he lifted you up and vibrated with joy. "Boy, golly gee…this really - this really razzes my b-berries! This is…wow, I-I can't believe it."
You couldn't believe his word choice either. "Oh, you better believe it, because now you're stuck with me and I have you all to myself. However, you're going to have to put me down now because the office closes at five. There are a few things I need to do before then."
Letting you down, he happily waved goodbye despite the fact that it wouldn't take long to get what you needed for this impromptu occasion. Though, when you entered your house, you took a moment to think about your father. There were things you still didn't understand, like why he never told you about his friendship with Rick, or why you two never really discussed what he'd do if you got married; if he had been here, maybe you two would have talked about which flowers would look best as centerpieces; like whether roses or mums were cheerful enough or if this really was a good idea; if such an age gap was surmountable. Yet, in a way you felt as though you were honoring him; for your father and your mother had been unconventional and had gotten married without all the showy displays then road tripped a bit before settling here; you were simply following tradition.
Maybe, you didn't have to know about the why's and what-ifs, but focusing on what you could do seemed a whole lot easier to do. You kicked off your sneakers and dashed upstairs. You knew where your important documents were, but you thought that choosing a cute outfit would take a little longer. You wanted a certain vibe, one that would make things easier on him and then it came to you; why not revisit an old favorite; one that reminded you of his eyes; always, forever blue.
When you returned, you found him pacing around. He was deep in thought, and it took a moment for him to notice that you had returned. Almost comically, his eyes widened as he took in your appearance, and he started to cry again. "That's th-the dress. From that one time."
"It sure is."
With a twirl, you flaunted the blue chiffon dress, and felt like a dream; his visible adoration was not lost on you. It was a relief that this time you hadn't taken an hour to fuss or worry that you weren't dressed for the part, and you weren't wearing shoes which would kill your feet, but instead rocked some converse. "These shoes are made for walking and that's just what I'll do."
Unlike you, Zeta-7 wanted to fuss and choose something dressier, but you somehow managed to convince him that his blue button-up would be fine, and no tie was necessary; hidden ray guns were allowed just in case this happened to be the day that the Gromflomites attacked; not even Earth-based military scanners would be able to detect them. Though, you did allow him to fix up his hair, because one, you thought he was quite handsome with it combed back, and two, it's what he felt he needed to do to look the part. "How do I-I look?"
"Like the man I'm going to marry. Are you ready handsome?"
With a nod, he grabbed the folder with all the documents he needed. "Y-you bet."
______________
At the courthouse, the entire security staff grouped together and teased you about your keys; you should've known that you'd face trouble once you went through the metal detector; you had a lot of keychains; they were from the days when you and your father would go shopping together. Like Rick, he liked yard sales and thrift stores; sometimes he'd get grab bags and there would be vintage keychains, and he'd give them to you knowing you'd like them. You were told by one of the older guards that it wasn't natural for a grown woman to have a set of keys that weighed five pounds. Zeta-7 began to worry, but you told him you could handle it, and you figured the guards were bored and had nothing else to do. What you didn't tell them was that the main reason your keys were heavy was that you were carrying two sets; yours and your father's old keys; Rick knew, but he respected your wishes to leave it be.
Despite this, you two made your way to the right office; it only took fifteen minutes of going to lobby after lobby, free coffee, and endless rugs in all this indoor nothingness. And nobody knew better than Rick when it came to how much you hated paperwork, but nonetheless, you went through the painstaking process of signing this and that, wondering why they didn't make it easier for people by asking yes or no questions; this better not become someone's confetti. Rick breezed through it all, and you were slightly jealous that he knew what he was doing, but it was due to the fact that citadel paperwork was a lot more frustrating and difficult; he had to go through stacks of it weekly; poor man. While he sat quietly, you were in-between forms that had to be signed in triplicate and heard the gossip coming from the people who were working in the back of the office. What they didn't know was that their ignorance made you more determined; you'd fought your own expectations, that of others, as well as what seemed right to do long enough and no one, not even death itself was going to stop you from doing this; it was the best thing you could ever do for yourself and for him as well. You breathed a sigh of relief when you and Rick finally signed the marriage certificate; finally, it was done, and he watched rapturously as you set down the pen so that he could kiss you without refrain.
If you hadn't known better, you'd say the world shied away; dissolving into a plane of nothingness as he enveloped you with a strength that was deceptive for a man of his years; he had become a little more confident; it might've taken a few years, but all you knew was that it suited him. Being nurtured and cared for, as well as loved in the right sort of environment did wonders on Zeta-7; so much so, that he could hold the world in the palm of his hand and still manage not to damage it. It wasn't shocking that some found this outward display sweet, and you almost had hope for humankind, but then there was a laugh or two from the back; you made a mental note to consider moving off Earth. No one was going to ruin this moment for him, and relishing the moment, you chased his mouth for a second kiss; you know, to prove your point.
And if you hadn't already been proud of him, what made you even prouder was what he said on the way out. "Please stop laughing at m-my wife. Th-that's very rude."
His wife? Yes, you were his wife now. It's strange how you could wake up and wonder what you should have for breakfast and be here where you were now; in a whole new chapter of your life; wondering what will come next. Confusing yes, but not something to be afraid of; you welcomed this happy transition.
Back at the car, you were still recovering from his earlier outburst; the like which was almost out of character. "Did you see the look on her face? I thought it was going to fall off with how far her jaw dropped. Wasn't it a sight?"
Though, he was busy staring at the ring on his own hand which you had picked out when you two made a stop at a consignment shop earlier. It wasn't that complex like yours, but he loved it. "All I could see was - was you."
"You flirt."
You gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in turn, he laughed a full-on belly laugh; this happy noise was music to your ears. "Gosh, I-I mean it. Y-you, look so pretty today." A bit shyly, he commented. "Blue looks very good on you."
"Thank you. So, how should we celebrate? A trip to the moon perhaps? Going across the universe? Maybe a kaiju fight with Matango? Or watching Spiderman 2? Honestly, I'm game for anything."
You had decent shoes on and didn't care what he wanted to do because you were happy if he was happy. And as though it were just another afternoon, he glowed with happiness when he asked. "Mrs. Sanchez, do you - do you want to go get some ice cream?"
Some things will never change and you didn't mind that. "I'd love to. As the author, L.M. Montgomery once said, 'I guess ice cream is one of those things that are beyond imagination.' And, you know, it's so true. I intend to go all out with the toppings today. It's certainly that kind of occasion."
______
He couldn't seem to want to let go of your hand; as though the world would fall away if he didn't and that this would turn out to be a cruel dream. Still, you humored and spoiled him. As intended, you got all the toppings; Rick thought it was a kids dream come true with the amount of candy you had in your waffle bowl. And since you had enough to share, you took the liberty to feed him. He chatted on; offering charming stories from his band days; unlike other Ricks who were in a rock band called Flesh Curtains, his band had been a jazz and bossa nova trio; the band name had been comprised of a numerical equation; if you had named them you would've called them the Zeta Bytes.
Now, Rick wasn't a messy eater, but during one of his more excitable stories, he spilled a bit on the corner of his mouth. Ready with a napkin, you wiped it away, and couldn't help but laugh at how boyish it was. Giving your hand a squeeze, he absentmindedly brushed his thumb on the back of your hand; adoration coloring his voice. “You're t-t-too good to me.”
"There's no such thing. If anything, I gotta spoil you rotten."
You found no hindrance in his mood and this time he didn't think twice about kissing you then and there as he liked while you were still holding the napkin; fear and shame of public displays of affection being one less thing to worry about now. Who cared if your ice cream was melting, because your heart was melting; his mouth tasted of chocolate and promises. A soft chuckle escaped him as he pulled away; his promise whispered against your lips. "I-I promise I'll be good t-t-to you."
Being loved suited him; it really, really did wonders on his countenance and it made you wonder what else he could now do.
_________
By now you were a little tired, but Ricks contagious energy invigorated your spirits; you bet he could've come up with an invention and completed it today if he stayed this hyped up. Instead, he used that energy to make fresh rolls to go with the leftover acorn squash soup; you hadn't been that hungry, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. And when dinner had been eaten, you helped him with the dishes; nothing you hadn't done before, but his spirit was lighter and more at ease; he even bumped your hip with his as a gesture of playfulness. After cleaning up the kitchen, he decided that he'd like to take a shower and refresh himself and in the meantime, you stepped out into the backyard to enjoy the beauty of the night. In this part of town, despite the light pollution, you could see a fair amount of stars.
You had never studied astronomy, but Rick had shown you in diagrams and in textbooks of their names and explained how they were formed; to him, their complexity was like poetry, and it made them beautiful. You couldn't recite it by memory, but you had a feeling that beyond your current comprehension perhaps there was life amongst those heavenly bodies, despite the heat or deadly gases; if you had learned anything about space, it was that worlds were more along the lines of art and beauty than fields of science which were easily explained. Yet, in the air, where there was a sweet perfume, thick, but intoxicating, only where you were currently mattered; you saw that in the leftmost part of the yard there was jasmine which was currently in bloom; its blanket of flowers reminding you of snow. Hadn't you read of this somewhere before? Maybe.
In the grass near your feet, grasshoppers leaped away, and crickets chirped their songs. And you relished the strong breezes and the song of the night which may consume a melancholic heart if it were searching for tragedies instead of sweet dreams. And it had only been a few hours ago when you had thought that all of which transpired might've been a dream. Though, whatever truths that had come to light in the hours after the simulation, you were glad of them.
In the dark, sights and sounds were heightened and mesmerizing, albeit curious in its own right; if it hadn't been for the sound barrier Rick had on his property, you would've heard the obnoxious sound of the next-door neighbor's TV as they watched infomercials. Still, it was a beautiful night. Sitting on the bench which overlooked the whole yard, you thought of what wonderful things you'd like to share with Rick, and then he found you. For his part, he had changed into something more relaxed; into a light blue button-down that was similar to the one he was wearing earlier, but this one was softer, and it was paired with navy pants; it reminded you of blue pants Rick with his attire, but it was cute and suited him. With him, he had brought over a tray of goodies and you two ate cookies and cakes and drank earl grey under the moonlit night.
The pause in conversation gave allowances for observations. For example, you took a good long look at him as he sipped his tea; admiring how casual he appeared tonight. Without his labcoat or sweater, his identity seemed separate from that of his dimension jumping, scientist self; making way for the person deep inside; the friendly neighbor who won your heart without even trying. He noticed eventually that you had been staring at him, and he broke the silence with his inquiry. "What are y-you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about you cutie. You um….you look really good in those blue pants of yours. Thinking of taking up modeling anytime soon?"
"N-no," he answered with an air of obliviousness that you found endearing. "not unless my next work assignment requires it. Gee, why do you ask?"
"Hmm, it's because you wear your clothes well. I always thought you did, but I don't believe I ever mentioned it."
He ruminated on what you said for a few minutes, before setting down his cup. "Did you - did you always find me attractive?"
"No," you confessed. "but you're the only person I've ever really been attracted to. I…..I always liked the fact that our relationship was built on something more substantial. You see, the more I got to know you, the more irresistible I found you. Though," you winked. "those teeth of yours were always too cute to resist."
This truth of yours made him comfortable enough to relinquish one of his own. "C-can I tell you a secret?"
"It's not much of a secret if you tell me dear, but you can tell me anyway."
Wringing his hands together, he confessed solemnly. "That day y-you tripped on the sidewalk nearby my house, I-I almost decided not to cross the road."
Not cross the road? Hmm, it had been an option. In your mind's eye, you could imagine it; the tall, lanky figure of a man debating against his better judgment on what he ought to do; so close but so far; knowing that he was altering the course of his future and putting yours at risk. Poor man, having to wallow over a moral dilemma like that. "Why is that?"
"Gosh, y-you….I didn't want to take advantage of the situation."
It could've been taken that way, but you never thought so. "So what changed your mind?"
"I thought you were going to cry, and I-I didn't… I didn't want you to suffer anymore. I thought t-to myself, that if I got t-t-to know you, then you wouldn't have to be lonely anymore."
When he said this, you nearly couldn't look at him; not because he knew more than he let on, but because who knows what paths you two would've taken if he hadn't shown up that day. Tears bit at the back of your eyes, and your nails bit into your palms. "Dear, love isn't always a cure for heartache," He tensed up at this, but you knew you had to tell him. You weren't upset because you had guessed as much, but being assured of it cemented the fact. "but I'm sure that without you, without your friendship, I might not be here right now. I think I was depressed, and from time to time I still feel that way. I…I have thought of ways to make my troubles end, ways you might not have been proud of, but you've shown me a better way to live. I think…no, I know that by expanding my horizons, I understand now that there's so much to look forward to, and not to take life for granted. Why," you paused, fighting the tears which threatened to fall. "you reminded me that I gotta make the most of this crazy, unpredictable life, and I'm happy that I'll get to do that with you."
He understood and accepted this answer and gave you a look of adoration and pride; the like that you hoped you'd always remember. And when you two were done with tea, you both took a walk about the garden. The sweet perfume of jasmine intermingled with that of the scent of his soap, and combined with the candor of his speech made this place feel like a well of comfort. He followed behind you as you two spoke, and you were conscious of the fact that with his freshly washed hair brushed back, it made him more appealing. His hands were in want of yours as he matched your pace, and you felt slightly mischievous as you'd skip or teased him to catch you; it wasn't long until he gathered you in his arms and laughed, and you asked without much seriousness for him to let you go, but while he loosened his grip, he didn't let go entirely. "Gosh, y-you make me feel so young. It - it feels so good to have you in my arms."
"Oh, really?" you giggled. "That's great to hear."
Pressing a kiss to your temple, he sighed. "It's unfortunate that I'm so old."
"That's okay. I like you as you are. It goes well with your personality."
"Thank you mi corazón. It feels good to hear that. However, can I-I ask you something?"
"Mhm."
"¿Si hubiera s-sido más joven, habría marcado la diferencia?"
"If you had been younger? I don't know. Possibly," you admitted. "I might've been less reluctant about my feelings at the beginning, but I truly don't know. I'd like to think that I'd still would've fallen for you anyway. You're a wonderful man Ricardo, you don't have to doubt that, anyone can see that. It doesn't matter how old you are, but it's who you are."
"Y-you're right." With reluctance, he allowed his arms to drop to his sides, and he wondered. "It um - it's getting late. Should I-I walk you home?"
Was he forgetting that he didn't have to? Maybe not. Perhaps he needed a sign; one that said that any suggestion of further intimacy was alright. "I thought I was home." you answered, "Don't you want me to stay?"
Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded. "Yes, I-I-I-I do."
"Then it's settled. We'll have a big sleepover," you brightened. "and it'll never have to end. I'll borrow a pair of your pj's and hog all the blankets because I'll get cold."
"And in - in the morning," he added warmly, "w-we can have pancakes."
"Yeah, and watch enough interdimensional cable to make us go blind."
"But I-I might have to work tomorrow."
"Oh. Well, then I guess I'll just have to eat all your snacks until you come back. We might have to take a trip to Costco at some point because they sell these mushroom crisps that are to die for."
Standing under the persimmon tree, he stepped forward and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Y-you can have whatever you want," With a strong arm slipping around your waist, you felt almost shy at the way he smiled protectingly down at you. His warm breath ghosted about your ear, and his voice was above a whisper as he confessed. “because I-I-I finally got you princess and I'm not - I'm not going t-to let you go.”
At the sound of this pet name, you felt a slight warmth rush to your cheeks, but you didn't laugh it off as you had once but agreed with warmth. “You may do as you please, Mr. Sanchez.”
And so he did. Without hesitation, he lifted your chin and brushed your lips with his thumb. His eyes sparkling with humor, promise, and a confidence that was somehow so very appropriate on his face. "I love you. I-I-I always have. From the time I first held your hand, I knew it had to be you. I would've been a fool if I - if I hadn't tried. Even now, it's hard to believe, but it's starting to sink in."
"Me too. It's unbelievable, but it's true and we have the paperwork to prove it."
Leaning down, he pressed a sweet kiss onto your lips. It was so gentle, it was as though you might break if he tried otherwise. Kissing you again, he sighed against your lips. "It's beautiful out t-tonight."
"It is."
Pressing a hand to his cheek, you softened. "But I think I'm ready to call it a night. Why don't we go in?"
Weaving his fingers with yours, he softened. "Okay."
You used to think to yourself and wonder if his house would ever be ready to receive you, but what you now realized was that it had always been ready, and only you had been waiting for it all to catch up; for him to know what he wanted and to be courageous and say; for you to know what you needed, and to accept that being yourself didn't make you any less attractive or unique and that you weren't alone; you had never been alone, for he had always been waiting. His home, why it was always home, but it was always home because he was what grounded you and you were what grounded him. And you felt so married to him then, and everything felt as it should. Nothing had really changed, except for a title, and a promise; for you two were friends as you had always been; him the happy go lucky old man, and you the silly neighbor who met him by accident, but you couldn't deny that you loved him with your entire being and so did he. As promised, he intended to do everything in his power to protect you, even as you two were getting ready for bed. His body seemed to curl around you as to shield you from whatever monsters could be hiding in the dark.
So, when it happened that you rested your head upon his chest and felt the temptation of sleep washing over you, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and confessed softly. "I can't wait to wake up next to you."
Fin
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gothamhell · 4 years
Text
Questions
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Dick Grayson, age 12, was staring in absolute shock and horror at Nightwing, his future self. Really, most of the (young, oh so young) Teen Titans were, the older versions of themselves not even phased in the slightest. If anything, a couple of them were trying to hold back laughter at the reactions of their younger selves.
“What?” Nightwing asked, arching an eyebrow under his domino, “What did I say?”
“You just dropped an F-Bomb!” Younger Dick (Still-Robin Dick) said, throwing his hands up in the air as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You dropped an F-Bomb in our base! In front of us kids!”
“Oh. Whoops.”
“Whoops?! Now I know you can’t be me! I’d never drop an F-Bomb! Speedy might--”
“Hey!”
“But never me!”
“Listen kiddo,” Roy, No-Longer-Speedy Roy, stepped forward with a placating hand gesture, “Things change. We’re all adults now--”
“Even if some of us don’t always act like it...” Donna chimed in.
“We’ve all done our fair share of swearing. In fact, it’s gotten to the point where some of us have swear jars at the various team bases.”
“Like the one we have with Ollie?” Speedy asked quietly, cautiously. He still hadn’t quite put away his bow, still nocked with an arrow.  Roy stiffened, but didn’t otherwise react negatively. Not while the kids were there.
“Yeah,” He said, his voice a bit more dry than it had been before, “Like with him.”
“Shouldn’t we be more worried about that fact that we’re currently talking to our future selves,” Aqualad asked, earning a supportive nod from his older self, “Especially since none of them-- Us? Seem to remember it?”
“We’ll get to that in a sec, Garth,” Younger Wally assured, “But first, I gotta know: How cool is the future?”
“We can’t ask questions about the future!” Wondergirl berated her teammate, “It could destroy it! Although, I am wondering: Do we ever get a boyfriend?”
Okay, this was going from bad to worse way too quickly. Nightwing exchanged a serious look with his younger self (an action that made his sentimental heart ache) and they stepped away from the others, who were trying to keep the peace amongst themselves with varying degrees of success. They accessed the main computer, Nightwing easily bypassing Bruce’s security as Robin watched with wide eyes. Dick realized it’d be about a year before he could do that, probably.
“Alright, sent the signal to the Batcave,” Nightwing said, “Hopefully we can get things under control before the timeline gets thoroughly... Messed up.”
“You were gonna drop another F-Bomb, weren’t you?”
“Habit. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Robin said quietly, adding with a whisper, “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I swear too. I don’t even put money in the jar. Of course, nobody’s around, usually, but still, I do it.”
Dick knew that. He really had be swearing since he was nine, mostly to make the kids that came to the circus laugh and think he was cool and mature, but he toned it down after becoming Robin. He was a role-model, a hero, and he had taken it very seriously. As he got older, though, well, it was much more cathartic to drop a nasty string of curses after stubbing his toe than saying something like “Holy Wooden Tables, that sure did hurt! Golly gee gosh!”.
“So...” Robin began, twisting around in one of the other rolling chairs, “You really don’t remember coming to the past?”
“Nope,” Nightwing replied, fiddling with the battery pack for his escrima sticks, “Probably one of those time masters or whatever wiped our memories of it. Or, your memories, I guess. God, I hate time travel.”
“So, I could ask you questions? And it wouldn’t disrupt the time-stream?”
Nightwing blinked. That was a fair point. He could literally say anything to his younger self, anything, and it would be okay. He used to have a whole list of things he wanted to say, but at that moment, he couldn’t think of any of them.
“Yeah,” Nightwing said after swallowing nothing, “I guess you could. Ask away, boy wonder.”
“The Titans. I know we-- You were working together when you got pulled to the past, but... Do the Teen Titans--”
“Split up?” Nightwing finished, and Robin, brave, lonely Robin, nodded. Nightwing sighed. “Yeah, we... We do. Sorta. The original team splits up, most of us to go on our paths, find our own way. We keep in touch, though. Sorta. It’s been hectic.”
“Oh.” Robin’s voice was quiet, and Dick understood why. For a long time, aside from Batman (and even then, rarely him), he really felt like he only had the Titans. Sure, he had friends at school, but none of them knew about Robin, about being a hero, and the Teen Titans, well... They knew Robin and Dick Grayson, not just one or the other. 
Hearing that he’s gonna lose that... It would’ve devastated him, and it wasn’t even the worst thing that was going to happen to him.
“Do we still work with Bruce?” Robin finally asked, his voice stronger, determined to get through all the questions in his head. Nightwing let out a soft laugh.
“Sometimes. We mostly deal with our city,  Blüdhaven--” Nightwing barely held back a laugh when Robin made a face. “Hey! It’s not that bad. Better than Hub City.”
“Yeah, I guess... But, why did we leave Gotham? Why did we leave Batman and Robin and become Nightwing?”
“That’s... Complicated.”
“Then make it not be.”
Nightwing sat back in his chair and sighed. He wasn’t sure he could uncomplicate it, even years later, but he had to try. For Robin. For the young boy he used to be.
“We... Bruce tried, is trying, his best to be our parent and Batman, but he’s not very good at it. Half the time he’s distant, half the time he’s smothering us, and it only got worse as we got older. We had to get away, learn to be our own person, our own hero. Without Batman.”
“And without the Titans?”
“I... Yeah,” Nightwing said quietly, the half-lie tasted bitter on his tongue, “And without the Titans.”
“... We didn’t want to split up, did we?”
“Yes. No. Both? We-- We knew we had to. We were all getting older, we couldn’t be the Teen Titans anymore, but at the same time...”
“Yeah.” Robin said quietly. “I get it.”
In that moment, more than anything, Dick wanted to look his younger self in the eye and tell him that it was going to suck. That the Rogues and The Antithesis wasn’t the only major problems he was going to come across, that sometimes, even in a room full of people who loved him, he was going to feel so, so alone. He wanted to tell him about Jason and Tim and the new Titans. He wanted to tell him about how life was going to throw everything it had at him until it got hard to even get out of bed sometimes, but that he had to keep going, because people depend on him, hero and civilian alike. 
But he didn’t. He didn’t have to. Dick knew that Robin knew all that already. He had always known, in some small way. It didn’t make it any easier to face, though.
“Hey bird-brains!” Older Roy’s voice cut through the heavy atmosphere, “Batman’s here! Says he and Rip Hunter are gonna help us get home, c’mon!”
Nightwing and Robin looked at each other, and they both smiled in understanding.
“Make sure you pay the swear jar before you leave.” Robin said, getting up to rejoin the others, and Nightwing couldn’t help but laugh, even as he fished the five-dollar bill out of his hidden pocket.
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kyukun · 4 years
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Boyfriend Hotline (OumaSai)
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beTA KOKICHI IS A GIFT AND I AGREE I ALSO WANT TO SEE MORE CONTENT OF THEM. this is a mess but i hope you enjoy :>>
title: Boyfriend Hotline
summary: What can you do when your relatives are coming to visit you and you don't want them to know that you're lonely as fuck? Well, call up your best friend and ask him to be your pretend boyfriend of course!
word count: 1502
~~ prompt starts after cut! ~~
Shuichi hung up in a cold sweat, an immense feeling of panic and dread washing over his entire body the minute he ended the call. Well he was fucked now. 
 Shuichi let out a heavy sigh as his hands covered and slid down his face in agony. His family had called, and usually, he'd be pretty happy about their call but this time was different. They were expecting something from him. They were expecting that he had a date with him when he goes over. 
 Okay so maybe he was a bit guilty of sprinkling a bit of lies every now and then to ease their minds, and maybe he told them he was seeing someone just to make things seem like he wasn't going to sleep in an empty bed every night. 
 He was a young man after all, and it's even sadder that a twenty-three year old like himself still hadn't found love yet. While there was still time to find that love, Shuichi couldn't let down his family. He didn't like lying to them.
 He needed a plan and quick. He started going down the list of people he could ask to be his pretend date, but he could only manage to shorten his list to one person. Kokichi Ouma. Not a very wise choice but he didn't exactly have the luxury to be picky. He went through his contact list and finally landed on Kokichi's number.
 He explained to him his situation and surprisingly, he had agreed to it. Now here he was, sitting outside of Kokichi's apartment waiting for him to meet him outside as the car radio blasted music at a low level. He saw Kokichi swiftly exit his apartment, walking down the stairs and into his car. He inhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself for tonight. Kokichi opened the door and sat inside, buckling himself in. "Heya, Saihara-chan! Sorry if I took too long. Gotta look good for your family." He winked, nudging the slightly flustered male on the side.
 His hands were both placed on the steering wheel while his feet remained stuck on the brakes. "Are… are you sure you're okay with being my pretend date?"
 Kokichi rolled his eyes as Shuichi stared at him with a mix of anxiety and a need for reassurance. He opened the visor mirror and had begun looking at himself to make sure things were still looking good and fresh. "Saihara-chan. The only hetero thing about me is my heterochromia. It's fine, don't worry." Once he got one last look at himself, he slammed the mirror shut and turned back to him.
 "Besides, lots of people have told us we act like a couple anyway so we should be fine."
 Good point.
 "Okay… Should I go over the steps one more time or—"
 "Meet your family, introduce myself, say that I met you at Uni and we've been together for a year, yada yada. I know."
 He smiled with a slight chuckle. Leave it to Kokichi to remember plans. Though, his question was met with sarcasm, he did deliver the correct steps. He could give him that much credit. "Good. And to make it more realistic, we should hold hands and… stuff." God this was embarrassing.
 He didn't know if it was embarrassing because it was Kokichi or that he had never done this before. Either way, it made him want to crawl under a rock and never come out at the mere thought of it. "My, my! Is my dear boyfriend suggesting we be risky in front of his family? Dear golly, I think I might just have a heart attack from these unholy thoughts!" Kokichi teased, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead as he eased himself into the seat with an innocent grin plastered on his lips. 
 Talk about dramatic.
 "N-no! Just suggesting that holding hands should be enough to convince them. Just… no kissing."
 Kokichi laughed as Saihara had begun to drive off, "Whatever you say, sugar bun. No kissing it is." 
 "And stop with the pet names."
 The rest of the drive went well. They had eventually arrived at Saihara's parents' house, to which, went well much to both of their disbelief. They ended up sharing a dinner together as well and asked the usual "meeting my significant other's family" type questions such as: "Where did you guys meet?" and "How long have you been dating?" You know, things they've already gone over.
 Though this brings us to probably the most difficult one that they've asked that neither of them expected. "So, Kokichi, tell us what you like about our son." His dad asked, folding his hands over the dinner table and drawing his eyes towards the mismatched eye colored boy.
 His gold and purple eyes flickered nervously to Shuichi with a blush and then back to his dad. "W-well, everything of course!" He tried his best to laugh it off but this response didn't seem to be satisfactory. "Oh, come on! Be more specific! What were the things that made you fall for him." Shuichi could feel himself grow embarrassed now as well.
 "Dad—"
 "Shu baby, please! We want to know." 
 Kokichi's heart rose the more he thought about it. He had never really thought about what he had felt towards Shuichi. They were friends. Best friends. But… is it wrong of him to think that that's not all they were? In retrospect, he had felt something towards his fake date before but he had tried to discard those feelings deep, deep down. Guess now would be the perfect opportunity to let them back out.
 "Honestly, I'm not quite sure myself. Shumai has always been so nice to me, to everyone. He has such a soft side but he can be withdrawn at times, and that makes me want to only be with him more. His eyes just sparkle when he's around people he loves as though they're the only things that matter to him. And he's got this killer smile that makes me weak in the knees."
 At this point, Kokichi had begun staring at Shuichi, love in his eyes. Shuichi wasn't sure if he was the best actor in the world or if this was all true. He continued, "That heart of gold and insanely smart attitude of his is what draws me in. He understands me more than anyone else in the world." He smiled shyly, a deep red scattering his cheeks. Holy shit he just said that out loud.
 Oh shit.
 Oh fuck.
 That wasn't acting.
 "Wow… that was touching. Shuichi, you're so lucky! Give him a big ol' kiss, hun!" 
 "Uhm, Mrs. Saihara I don't think that's—" Before Kokichi could politely decline, he was cut off by Shuichi who pulled their faces together in a kiss. Shuichi had his hands towards the back of his jaw while the other hand rested on his thigh. His eyes were widened but he slowly had begun easing him into the kiss, eventually kissing back. He wasn't quite sure what had gotten into him but he liked it.
 Shuichi broke away from the kiss, glancing back at both of his parents who were also visibly flustered. "We'll be back." He gripped Kokichi by the hand and carried him away without a word. He took him to the backyard, the smallest amounts of light peeking through the window as the sky above them glistened. "What was that? I thought you said no kisses—"
 "I know what I said. It was just for… It was just to convince them. Sorry if it was a little excessive."
 He frowned. That didn't seem like it was just to convince them. That kiss had feeling. "I don't believe you."
 "Then what you said—Did you mean it?"
 "W-what? No, of course not."
 "I don't believe you." Shuichi smirked, locking eyes with Kokichi's. His eyes really suited him surprisingly. They were really pretty. The golden hue of his left matched his determination and playfulness while the royal purple one had a mystery to it, an alluring one at that. Kokichi gave a half-hearted smile, his face turning red. "Haha, touché."
 "I hope I played the part of your pretend date well, ha… Hopefully it was convincing enough! People have always complimented me on my acting skills." He tried his best to conceal the awkwardness in his tone but to no avail. He had begun twirling his hair in a fit of skittishness. Shuichi could feel his own heart race the more he thought back on the kiss. 
 "Maybe when you go back in… you won't have to pretend to be my date."
 He froze, eyes slowly drifting over to Saihara who had now been blushing himself. He didn't say another word and instead left Kokichi alone, and headed back inside. 
 What the hell?
 What did he mean by that?
 It took a minute for him to process the words until he realized what he had meant.
 Oh.
 Oh.
 So that's what he meant. 
 "You smooth bastard."
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galadrieljones · 4 years
Text
That he may hold me by the hand - Chapter 10
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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason  
Rating: Mature (Adult Themes and Situations, Violence, and Sexual Content)
Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.
Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph
Chapter 10: Was life always this strange?
Albert’s opening at the gallery in St. Denis was a pretty affair. The space was small, but the owner decorated with subtle bouquets of chamomile, and lavender sprays which made the room smell almost as good as the open fields in the Big Valley. Albert drew a well-established following of collectors and debutantes, as well as fellow artists and photographers who had traveled a long way, and who seemed to know him beyond his art and asked him questions about his life and about his mother, too—How have you been since Haverford? Is Cynthia well? Your work has changed so much, Albert. Explain your muse. Arthur had gone with Josiah to the barber for a shave that afternoon and then the tailor where he bought a simple but elegant brown jacket to wear over his white shirt with the French-cut collar. He didn’t want to look too fancy, just put together. Josiah was very good with aesthetics.
“You want to look like a cowboy,” said Josiah. “But not too much like a cowboy. If you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do,” said Arthur, studying himself in the mirror.
“You are more than just a guest tonight, Arthur,” said Josiah. “You’re a muse. People are going to see your face in those photographs. They’re going to want to meet you. Do you have anything prepared?”
“Like what?” said Arthur, straightening his cuff links.
“Like, a backstory? Something interesting to tell about yourself.”
Arthur shrugged. “I reckon I’ll just make some things up as I go along.”
“I thought you were the master conman,” said Josiah.
“That’s Hosea,” said Arthur. “Though I’ll admit, he has taught me a fair bit over the years.”
“I’m sure he has.”
Arthur sighed. “I just don’t want to look like a fool,” he said. “I’d prefer not to be memorable, if we’re being honest, but more than anything, I don’t want to look like a fool.”
Josiah gave him a canny look. “I’m sure you’ll be a hit, dear boy.”
“Albert is the hit,” said Arthur. “I’m just…a nobody. And to be frank, I quite like it that way.”
“Being a nobody?”
“Yeah,” said Arthur, straightening his lapels. “Just being in the background. Not taking point, for once.”
“I believe I understand that,” said Josiah, smiling. “At least when thinking from your point of view.” He stood in front of Arthur in the mirror, helping him with his collar. “You look very good, Mr. Morgan. Almost upstanding.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Arthur. He did not know if he felt upstanding, but he felt better than he had in some time. It was almost enough to make him suspicious of his happiness, a nagging anxiety that he knew best to ignore.
Now, Mary Beth stood in her fanciest dress, holding a glass of champagne and making idle chit chat with a man in a top hat who said that he was from Philadelphia and that he had known Albert from childhood. This man’s name was Delvin Montague, and he was a businessman in town on holiday. He seemed interested in Mary Beth for her broad vocabulary and contradictory disposition as some sort of country bumpkin with a pretty face. She read him easily and on any other day, he would have been a mark. But she was not pickpocketing today. At least not here. Today, she was just an attendee at an art gallery opening for her friend Albert Mason, the nature photographer.
“Excuse me,” said Albert, interrupting them to say hello. He shook Delvin’s hand and after some rote pleasantries, sent him on his way. He then stood by Mary Beth’s side with his hands clasped neatly behind his back. He said to her, “Thank you for coming, Miss Gaskill. I must say, I’m flattered you're here.”
“Over me?” she said, blushing. “Hogwash, but thank you. I ain’t fancy, but I do appreciate the invitation.”
“No hogwash about it,” said Albert, rocking back on his heels as he regarded the room. He was well-groomed that day, very sharp. “Do you think I know any of these fancy people here, really know them?” he went on. “They never gave a shit about me until this day. They are here mostly to make acquaintance with each other, or to worm their way into my connections at the gallery for their own gain. It’s always something under the surface with these people, I assure.”
“Golly,” said Mary Beth, scandalized. “And I thought I lived the gutter life.”
This amused him. “I assure you, everyone here looks glamorous and experienced, Mary Beth, but they’re just…imprints. Of culture, and wealth. There’s nothing inside. Not all of course, but most. I wish I could say I did not used to be one of them.”
“Oh, please,” she said, smiling. She put her hand on his wrist briefly and then hid it away. She was so demure, he thought, but he could tell that she had seen more than she let on. She was not a spring chicken, or a child. She had some telltale roughness around the edges, like Arthur. But she was very pretty, uniquely so with all of her wild freckles. He wanted to photograph her but he thought it would be impolite to ask, as they did not know each other that well. “Ain’t nothing phony about you, Albert. You’re just you. I can tell.”
This made him warm around the rim of his collar. “Well, thank you, Mary Beth.”
“The pictures are good!” said John, coming around out of nowhere with his champagne. He had his hair combed to one side and everything. “I like the ones of Arthur best. I never seen him so…I don’t know. In his element, I guess.”
“Thank you, John,” said Albert. “And thank you for coming. I agree. He’s a good subject.”
“Where the hell is he, anyway?” said John, looking around. The room was bustling. Servants popped in and out with silver trays of champagne. “I saw him just a second ago.”
“He’s over there,” said Albert, nodding toward a corner where they saw Arthur holed up with some wild Frenchman with a pencil mustache. He looked utterly confused.
“He looks like he needs rescuing,” said Mary Beth.          
“Nah,” said John, sipping his champagne. “It’s good for Arthur to be in over his head every once in a while. He needs to…let go. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” said Albert, smiling. “And I agree.” He took his leave then, at the behest of both John and Mary Beth who assured him that they might look out of place but that they were just fine. He crossed the room, shaking hands, making small talk as he went, but never lingering for too long. He was proud of the turnout and even prouder of his work on display. He nosied into Arthur’s conversation and, despite his earlier exchange with John, rescued him. Arthur looked relieved as Albert smiled and seamlessly dismissed the Frenchman who went away to his business, a little tipsy. Arthur was drinking his champagne while Albert lit a cigarette. Together, they stood at the top of the room, surveying all the people—John and Mary Beth standing casually by the window, joking, and it all seemed okay.
“This is some turnout,” said Arthur. “Very good work, Mr. Mason.”
“Thank you,” said Albert, smoking.
They were not entirely sure how to conduct themselves. Publicly, they existed only as friends. Arthur was Albert’s “muse,” of course. That was the romantic vocabulary of artists. But looking at him, anyone would have to agree that, as subject matter, he was objectively interesting. Everything about Arthur, from the way that he looked to the way that he seemed. He was unique—uniquely American was what one of the critics had said. Arthur found this ironic, considering has actual station and his line of work. He was neither swindled by nor too good for the luxury and decadence on display that day. He was a good chameleon, and he knew it. He could fit anywhere, with anyone. It wasn’t a con. It was just his nature.
“What time does this thing end?” said Arthur.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Jesus,” he said.
“You don’t have to stick around,” said Albert. He finished his cigarette, put it out in a nearby ash tray. A man came then to hand him a glass of champagne. “I’ll meet you back at the apartment when it’s over.” He sipped. “Granted, without you here, I’ll die of boredom. So you may be met with a ghost.”
Arthur laughed. “No, sir. I will stay until the end.”
“Perhaps we could corral John and Mary Beth after this. And Mr. Trelawny. It would be fun, I think, to get inordinately drunk with them,” said Albert.
“Well I don’t know about letting John Marston get inordinately drunk in a place of civilized manners,” said Arthur, “nor myself if we’re being honest, but I think a couple drinks would be okay.”
Albert was pleased.
They watched the people go by. Josiah was on the other side of the room making conversation with a very short man wearing a very expensive smoking jacket. He performed a magic trick with a card and a coin and the man looked offended and confused, as if he had just witnessed devil worship.
“Hmm,” said Albert then, something having caught his eye.
“What’s the matter?” said Arthur.
“That man,” said Albert, gesturing to the tall fellow with the light hair, standing with his back to them on the other side of the room. He was looking up at a picture of Arthur and smoking a cigarette with one hand in his jacket pocket. “I don’t recognize him. Do you?”
“Ain’t this thing open to the public?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Albert. “I tried to make them do it, but the owner wouldn’t hear of it. He’s very stuffy that way. The exhibit opens publicly tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe he’s a friend of somebody else’s. Or—”
Albert sighed. “Oh well. I was just wondering. Anyway.”
But Arthur was staring now, at the tall man as the people passed by and in between. He was dressed subtly, blending in, but Arthur could tell that he was not of the same station as the others. He was something else. Arthur squinted, unsure. Then the man turned around, but he did not look at Arthur. It was clear. “Hosea?” he said.
“You know him?” said Albert.
“Yeah, I know him,” said Arthur. “It's just very unexpected. What the hell is he doing here?”
“You said his name is Hosea?”
“Yeah,” said Arthur. He felt his heart sinking, kind of cold, into his gut, as if he had been caught. He handed his glass to Albert, asking if he could hang onto it for him for a minute.
“Of course,” said Albert.
“I’m just—I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Who is he?” said Albert.
Arthur looked at him. He must have seemed a little overwhelmed, as Albert looked genuinely curious now, even a little concerned.
“He’s—can I tell you later?” said Arthur. He placed his hands on Albert’s shoulders. “Please. I’ll tell you everything, Al. I promise. And I will be right back. I ain't going anywhere.”
This took Albert by surprise, the promise. He hadn’t expected this. He was so trusting, so full of patience and calm, nowhere near as bumbling as he had once seemed before they were lovers. He nodded, quietly, and said, “Okay.”
Arthur wanted to kiss him very badly, but instead he just squeezed Albert’s shoulders once. When he turned around, Hosea was gone. “Shit.”
“He went that way,” said Albert. “Toward the stairs.”
“Thank you.”
When he was gone, Mary Beth came over. She seemed to have sensed Albert’s sudden loneliness and she stood by his side with her champagne and said, “Was that Hosea?”
“I believe so,” said Albert, confused, staring after the place where Arthur had disappeared. “It seemed rather urgent.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said, sipping. “Hosea is like a father to Arthur. But it an’t that simple. Don’t worry, Mr. Mason. He wouldn’t be here on business.”
“A father, you say?”
“Sort of,” she said. “They known each other a long time. I think since Arthur was something like fourteen? It ain’t my business, but Hosea is good, Albert. He’s kind of a fuck-up, because ain’t we all. But he’s good inside. He’s a good man. He cares about Arthur.” The way she was smiling, he couldn't help but believe her.
He was grateful. He said, “Thank you, Mary Beth. Would you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Arthur caught up with Hosea right outside the gallery, in some sort of patio. It was open in the middle with plants and vines hanging from the balconies overhead. You could hear the talking from inside and also some music from a gramophone in one of the nearby apartments. The sky above was dark, and the stars were hidden by a thick layer of fog.
“Hosea,” said Arthur. “Hey.”
Hosea stopped, turned around. He had his hands in his pockets. When he saw Arthur, he smiled, but it was strained and distant. Like he was smiling from behind a screen door. “You caught me,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” said Arthur. “You on a job or something?”
“I followed Mary Beth,” said Hosea. He took his hands out of his pockets, studied his knuckles. It was an old habit that Arthur had picked up from him long before. “She left secretively from Shady Belle, and I had a feeling she might be coming to see you.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I wanted to see you,” said Hosea. “To know that you were okay. I was a little worried, that’s all.”
“Of course I’m okay,” said Arthur. He straightened up, felt himself getting sucked back into some sort of cycle he had been avoiding. He was embarrassed and ashamed all of a sudden, as if he had been caught in a lie, but he had not told any lies. “Don’t worry.”
“You’ve been very absent lately,” said Hosea. “Ever since that horrible business with Colm O’Driscoll. Jesus Christ, I don't blame you. I’m sorry, son. I should’ve—I should’ve stopped it. We never really talked about that.”
“It weren’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was,” said Hosea. His smile wilted, saturated in guilt, an intense anger directed at himself. “Even still, you were distant before, Arthur. You have been for some time. I tried to understand, but I never figured it out. I assume now it must have something to do with all this? With that photographer in there. His pictures of you are marvelous. Whatever’s been going on, you should be proud.”
“I am,” said Arthur. “But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say hello?”
Hosea shrugged. He looked older than Arthur remembered, unwell. He coughed into his jacket sleeve, rolled his shoulders back as if he were gathering his courage. “I didn’t tell Dutch where I was going, Arthur. There’s talk around camp that you’re leaving the gang. Dutch is messed up over the rumors, but I’m not here to change your mind. I just wanted to see you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I should’ve told you. I don't know why I didn't. Or, I do know. But it was the wrong choice."
“Don’t be sorry,” said Hosea. He smiled, warmly, like he had used to before things got bad. “Things have changed, Arthur. I want you to find something better for yourself, if it’s in the cards. I never thought it was, but that’s my fault. I was wrong.”
Arthur looked away. He looked at his boots and where they were positioned on the expensive stone tiling of the patio. He found himself unable to contain his guilt and endless sadness now, there, in front of Hosea. Being with Albert had pried something open inside him that he could no longer shut. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Is it the photographer?” said Hosea, serious. “You can tell me, Arthur. I’ll understand.”
“I’m not sure you can.”
“You think I stay with Dutch because of his leadership skills?” said Hosea. He shook his head. “Don’t be a fool. Use that brain of yours, Arthur. I know it’s in there, and I know you hear me when I say that. Do you hear me now?”
“Yes,” said Arthur.
“Good. Now, look at me, son.”
Arthur looked up, tried to look right at him, but he couldn’t. It was like staring into the sun, or something worse. He looked slightly away and stood taller than he had been.
“That man in there," said Hosea, "he has something, something that you can have, too, if you want it. Am I right?"
Arthur nodded, once. He closed his eyes.
“Do you love him?” said Hosea.
Arthur nodded again, his eyes still closed. When he opened them again, they were wet, but he wiped that away quickly and bit it back. “He’s descent.”
“I get it,” said Hosea. He clasped Arthur hard on the shoulder. “Now, go back to the party. I don’t need anymore explanation, Arthur. I just came to make sure you were okay.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome, son."
Hosea smiled, very twinkling. For he had turned it on again, his charm and irresistible nature, that thing that set him apart from all the other conmen Arthur had ever known in his god forsaken life. He said nothing more, not about when they would see each other again. He did not ask Arthur if he would be returning to camp. He just said goodbye, and he walked away. Arthur said goodbye, too. He stood, alone.
Meanwhile, Josiah had been waiting for them to finish their conversation. He was on the other side of the glass double-doors. He hadn’t heard what they were saying, but he was good with reading people, and he could tell more or less what was going on. When Hosea was gone, he came out and put his arm around Arthur's shoulders. Josiah was a tall man. He was just as tall as Arthur and just as wide. Arthur flinched at first, but then he just sort of gave in. “It’s all right,” said Josiah. “Don’t let it get the best of you, dear boy. Let’s go.”
Arthur dried his eyes secretively on the back of his hand. “What do you mean, let it get the best of me?”
“Hosea means well,” said Josiah, casually walking Arthur back to the party. “He always has, but I’ve known you for a very long time, Arthur. I know the effect he has on you. Him and Dutch. Don’t let it get the best of you. That’s all I’m saying. Remember why you’re here, and what you want.”
Arthur looked at him, confused at first, but then verging on thankful as then he looked away at the walls of the hallway that led back to the gallery. They were painted a marvelous white, the walls, so white it almost served to blind him. He recalled his conversation a couple nights before, up in the foothills, Albert's earnestness. His seriousness when he told Arthur that he loved him.
When they got back now, Albert was sitting in a chair outside the door, looking bored. He was still holding a glass of champagne in each hand. This sight of him out there, the artist on display, avoiding his own party, was almost comical. It snapped Arthur back into reality with unrecognizable force.
“What are you doing out here?” said Arthur. “You should be inside, Mr. Mason. Mingling. Or, whatever.”
Albert rose when he saw them, handed Arthur his champagne. “I was waiting for you.”
It was silly, thought Arthur, as he took the glass. Sometimes he still did not understand it. But it was all he needed to hear at the time.
That night, they all went to the saloon. After several shots of whiskey, which John had bought, and Josiah’s drunken magician act involving a rabbit escaping from his hat and jumping up the skirts of a very fancy prostitute who had been chatting idly with Mary Beth at the bar, Albert and Arthur stole away and went upstairs to Albert’s apartment, just for a little while. They went out to the balcony to smoke cigarettes and to sit, simply, beside one another, in the stillness and the quiet of the evening. Together, they regarded the foggy night sky and let their pulses slow and their minds go free.
“Hmm,” said Albert, smoking, inquisitive. He was rumpled, his collar loosened since the party.
“What is it?” said Arthur.
“I can’t tell,” said Albert, “if I’m going to miss this place, or not.”
The question was complicated. Perhaps much more complicated than, up until that night, Arthur had realized. “Me neither,” he said. He asked for a cigarette. Albert lit him one of the end of his own.
"Do you ever miss our days in Arcadia, Arthur?" said Albert.
Arthur thought about it. He took a long drag off the cigarette, flicked the ashes, and put his arm around him. "Not really," he said. "But then again, in some ways, I reckon we never left."
They were both telling the truth as they sat, smoking on the balcony, searching for the moon.
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cat-scarr · 4 years
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BenKai is weird because I'm pretty sure I know what the writers are going for and intend for the pairing. They wanted BenKai to be seen like a bickering old married couple who who eventually smooth out their edges and get softer to each other (as seen in some of the future scenes where they do look like a happy family). But from a fan perspective I'm left wondering why the execution was so terrible. Kai never really stood out as 'Best Girl' material for Ben because she never acted like -
like she wanted to be in enough obvious way (for fans and Ben). Again I think I get it. Maybe the writers were trying to go anime style on us and do some class is Tsundere love interest who is too stubborn to admit her interest. Like I get it. She smiled and blushed when Ben accidently kissed her. Her only complimenting his alien forms is her way of denying admitting anything to Ben’s face. But yeah I’ve seen plenty of anime who did it better. Kai’s problem is that the writers didn’t care to make her a fully fleshed out character with enough depth to stand out as interesting on her own. She’s pretty simple: loves archeology. Furry lover I guess. Not nice to Ben 99% of the time (who is her main source of interaction in the show). Also they kept the dynamic stale but not throwing in softer moments that showed growth from Kai. But instead of getting support/understanding/compassion we got more bickering and mocking. You can say Kai could work because she’s such a blank slate. Which kind of reminds me of my Hunger Games days where I loved the story for its story and characters but some fans were obsessed w/pairings and Gale/Katniss had a following. Gale is better then Kai character depth wise but for the life of me I couldn’t understand why enough people liked such a bland character they could project any personality into. He felt entitled to Katniss. Hated the capitol. Looked down on anyone who wasn’t his family or Katniss. Every Time I read a fanfic his personality changed. I realized some fans didn’t care. They liked shaping his anyway possible because there was so little to define him in the first place. The fact some fans thought he was better for Katniss made me confused since almost every interaction post HG was negative. She went through all this trauma but he acts like a huge jerk to her whenever she cares about someone else or has surviving/protecting loved ones on her mind over romance w/him. Sorry for the rant but it got on my nerve every time Katniss was having a moment contemplating the inhumanity of it all and how likely it is she’s going to die or watch someone she loves die. Then Gale shows up to be all ‘gee golly Katniss pay attention our love triangle problems!’ Got me every time. Boy she’s having a crisis you can’t understand. Don’t push her around like you own her or know better. But yeah terrible relationships w/mains you love is terrible. Doesn’t hurt in omniverse Ben never acts like he wanted to be in love with anyone. Briefly I actually thought he was going to end up alone because that’s what he wanted. =P In the end the writers botched up. Romance isn’t a big deal in Ben 10 and they made Gwevin act like a couple. You think giving Ben a minor healthy romance wouldn’t be that hard but no I guess it was. They failed to make Kai a actual character (They put more effort in Skurd and his relationship w/Ben. Let that sink in) or the 2 invested in each other in likable/healthy ways.
 (I don’t know how much I like that formatting but I felt keeping the numbers was distracting. Anyway…)
I actually haven’t seen the Hunger Games, so I can’t really comment on that. However, I do see where your perspective is coming from in relation to the character dynamic. You bring up an interesting point:
“People liking such a bland character they could project any personality into.”
I feel like that’s what it is. 
I feel like people only like Kai’s character when they step away from the canon presentation of her character. 
When they begin to project their own values - things like being a good representation for Native American people, and appealing to feminist values through ambition and independent success - they see the potential of a character like her, and then believe that is what was attempting to be introduced to the audience through the Omniverse portrayal of Kai. 
While being an ambitious, smart archeologist interested in history, or a strong, independent female who empowers women are good traits, it was not heavily focused on in her actual canon presentation, unfortunately. 
Instead, what was majorly focused on is this “Tsundere” type personality, likely for the reasons you mentioned above. 
Now, just to be clear, I don’t personally think there’ s anything inherently wrong with projecting on characters. I mean this in the sense that writing divergent interpretations of canon characters is, in itself, harmless. Whether it is done out of creative expression or for personal reasons, the point is that those people are still able to make the distinction between the canon portrayal, and their portrayal. 
However, with a character like Kai, the trouble is that, because her canon portrayal is the way it is, when people project on her due to this idea of her “potential” and what she could have been (but wasn’t), she becomes out of character very quickly. At this point, it’s expected that she act like she had on screen. 
When I read a fanfiction, and the author chooses to have her be mean to Ben in inappropriate situations, it’s in character.
Change that, and insist that she is an angel, and now you’re just straight up lying to yourself.
It’s the same thing as insisting that Ben is a “sexist sociopath.” We all (most of us, anyway) know that is a lie. Even the writers would find that ridiculous. It wasn’t their intention in the slightest to consistently give us that impression, but it was their intention to consistently give us the impression that Kai is mean to Ben for whatever reason. That’s undeniable. 
As for Ben and Skurd’s dynamic, while they did end off on a good note, I feel like their dynamic had their own issues. I was always pretty indifferent to Skurd, but @karkalicious769 had brought up a very interesting perspective a little while ago in this post which I have to say that I agree with.
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jay-cult · 5 years
Text
Static and Stars : Prologue
Before a great story is told, one must often understand why.
Two dark figures stopped suddenly in the dimly lit night. The sand at their feet stood still, marking the hour windless. They looked up at the neon sign.
Ed and Edna’s Scrap N Junk
“I can’t believe he didn’t come,” a young, scared-looking girl commented to the other person.
“He couldn’t,” the other woman replied, full red lips moving in a whisper. “He didn’t even want to think about it.”
The smaller girl nodded, and pulled a hood on. The woman followed suit. They kept on guard from any possible security cameras.
“Are you sure this is gonna work?” The girl asked. “I mean….. What if they don’t want him?”
“Don’t worry about it,” the woman answered, taking a step through the gateway. “They were, a long time ago, very good friends of mine… we… are very sure. They wanted to raise a kid, but they were unable to have any. A-anyway. We’ve been over this.”
The girl nodded again, but her light blue eyes looked down in some doubt.
The two walked around the mountains of rubble in the darkness. The woman clung tight to a bundle in her arms. It stayed still.
They finally arrived at the door to a humble-looking trailer. Its light only dimly filled a small space around it. The woman stooped down, placing the bundle at the very foot of the door. It continued to lie still, almost too peaceful.
She slid a note out of her pocket, and placed it right on top. If ever you find the need to reveal the origins of this child, this address is enough for him to find his way, it read. An address was listed. We respectfully ask one thing. There is no need for him to be famous or important. He just needs to be loved, and free. Please do that for us.
The woman reached into a pocket again, and took out a light blue charm that shone with easily reflected light. It was in the shape of a lightning bolt. She placed it by the note, as if to say, he’ll always be a Staticholder.
The two gazed at the thing on the ground. The woman couldn’t draw herself away, until she forced herself to look to the side. Tears found their way to her eyes, then down her cheeks, but she knew she could not even let her own sister see how torn she was. “I’m going to go,” she mumbled. She stumbled away.
“Where are you going?” The girl asked, voice toned with fear, the woman a few steps away already.
The woman lowered her head. She wiped her face with her hands. “Away.”
She bolted up a tower of junk, almost invisible in the cold night. Her hood flew off and her golden hair wove as she ran. Her sorrowful, tear-ridden face was now a little visible in the dark. She reached the top, and leaped off the mound. The air beneath her lit and blue energy began to take shape, the shape of a dragon. It flew away, a sparking light, until it was dark again and the speck was gone.
The girl turned and looked back at the bundle, making her way towards it.
“Oh, you,” she whispered. “Little Staticholder…… a….. little guy.” She didn’t really understand. She didn’t understand why this had to happen.
The bundle stirred now, awakening, but no voice came yet. Little eyes were still shut tight. The young girl crouched down to look at it again. This time she was alone. Confused thoughts raged through her head. She wondered if, for a few moments, she could take it, and she thought maybe she could run away and be free of the future her parents promised her and instead try to make a life with a child- no, that would never work. The idea was insane. She knew it had to be left here. He had to be left here.
Still, she felt an odd connection that was there, even if she had never seen him until these past few hours. Perhaps it was sympathy, or perhaps it was a weirdly quick bond from staring at a sleeping baby, or maybe… it was just an automatic family tie, like as if blood was a path to loving.
“You’re not exactly my blood, are you though,” she said silently. “We still both have something from my parents though, I guess. I-”
The bundle stirred again and eyes screwed as if they were trying so so hard to do something. And then miraculously the eyes opened for the first time she had ever seen.
“....They. They’re like mine,” she breathed in awe. Light blue as if reflecting the lightning that ran always through the Staticholder family’s veins. Man to man to man to the two sisters, and their name would end on their branch.
Her heart twisted and she looked down at the little charm that had been given to the baby. Self-control let go and she knew she had to make herself some connection to him. She reached down to take it in her hands, and then a separate little hand reached out and touched her own. She smiled more sadly than she had ever frowned.
It was over quickly, and she dragged her hand back, and slipped the metallic charm in a pocket.
“Agh, typical. Now I have to figure out how to make sure you get in as soon as possible and I get out of here so I don’t get caught. She just bolted it outta here, and now I have no way home either, huh.” Yeah, sure her sister had quite a lot on her mind with all…. This. But was it really an excuse to just dumbly leave her in this desert? She hadn’t even reached her true potential let alone been able to conjure an energy dragon, how the hell was she going to get out- right. The kid first.
No need to think up a storm of a plan. The girl stood up and banged loudly on the door, immediately scampering away to hide behind a pile of trash.
Silence.
She poked her head out for a second, until suddenly the latch of the door opened. “Hello?” She heard a very tired voice of a woman say. The girl peeked out, and saw someone about 40, which she supposed was surprisingly old to raise a child. “Oh! Oh dear, what’s this? Ed?”
A similar-aged looking man stepped out. “By golly,” he exclaimed. “It seems we have ourselves a dilemma, honey.”
The girl narrowed an eyebrow, slightly confused about the odd way the couple spoke.
“Dilemma? Well, I’d hardly say that’s the word. It doesn’t have to be,” the woman replied. “I mean look at it. What a cute little….” a pause, “guy!”
“There’s a note,” Ed said.
The girl took one last look at the situation and sighed. She supposed she should probably go back to her house before her parents found her out of bed. She quickly snuck away, back through the illuminated sign, and to the road in the desert.
“Yugh. I’m gonna have to walk all on my own now, huh.” She said disappointedly. She began the path down the road in the sharp, cold night.
She pulled back her hood, and began to ponder as people who walk often do. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the charm, moving it about to observe the starlight’s effect on its shiny surface.
A familiar car pulled past, a rare sight in this area especially at this time, and stopped suddenly. The window rolled down and a face poked out. “Rhon? Is that you?” it asked.
“Ah FSM, Irene? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same, and even more relevantly, about you! Get in! Where’re your fancy whozits and whatnot? Can’t you pull yourself around in those?”
“They’re just small remote-control prototypes,” the girl named Rhon mumbled, dragging herself into the surprisingly nice passenger seat. “I’m not making mobiles at twelve-”
“Alright, alright,” Irene said defensively. She rolled up her window and quickly drove on. “Hey, I am taking you to your house ASAP right now. For real what are you doing-”
“I MAY or MAY NOT have went with Lib to take care of the problem, you know the problem where she didn’t have enough to take care of more than herself-”
“SO YOU WENT INTO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE AND KILLED HIM?”
“NO you DIMWIT!” Rhon yelled, and sighed to herself after, rubbing her forehead. “We brought him to the Walkers.”
“Ah, good choice,” Irene said. She seemed to recover easily. “FSM… a twelve year old shouldn’t have to go through this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a child, unlike her,” she said almost in a growl.
The car stayed in silence for a while.
“Sorry,” Rhon said suddenly.
“It’s alright, you’re starting to be a teenager after all, most of them say things like this,” Irene replied coolly.
But it was never this intense or weird between us, Rhon thought.
As if reading her thoughts, Irene piped up and said, “It’s just that this whole situation seems a little… shocking, eh?” She smiled like she knew what she did.
Rhon gave her the most disappointed look. It was an odd situation there in that car with a young girl being more serious and having gone through more than a well-established adult. “Ah, well… how have things been going, I haven’t really talked to you much since this all… happened. How’re you and that noodle boy getting along?”
“Hardly a boy,” Irene smiled. “Ah, he did used to be so young. He was only somewhat older than his apprentice when he was teaching him.”
“Ah, the infamous… did you hear about him?”
“Rumors have been going around,” Irene answered, frowning. “But… he left Chen a long, long time ago. Chen would know nothing now.”
“Wonder why,” Rhon commented.
“Yeah,” Irene said. “The man is crazy. But secretive, and well, he’s just wonderful, and it really is going pretty great with him. I-in fact, I should probably use this chance to tell you.”
Irene just stuttered. Irene never stuttered.
“You may have just had your baby situation. But now you can have real hope with me, I guess-”
“Holy. Shi-”
“YES, okay, I am, I do have a. Situation that I love that I have and I guess that’s just news for you and WOO yes there!” Irene shouted.
Rhon clapped. “Aa, nice! Cool! Wow, that’s new, huh.”
“Yeah,” Irene said.
More happy silence.
“We’re an odd couple, you know that?” the older woman said suddenly. “I mean, how did we even get to be like this, a young kid like you and… a person like me?”
“I dunno,” Rhon shrugged. “I s’pose friendships are just wild like that.”
The care came to a stop by Rhon’s home, but not right in front of it lest her parents wake up. “Ah, thanks for grabbing me outta that desert, the timing was perfect.”
“Yeah, I’m great, I know,” Irene joked. “Now do go get in your house. It’s so damn late ya crazy kid.”
She bolted off and snuck around the front of the house until she reached a window. She took a step onto it and climbed to the top of it, then onto the roof, and then she quickly dove into the window up there. Her room was just as how she had left it that night, thankfully. She dove into her covers, too tired to stare at the “Cyrus Borg: Kid Genius”-and-like posters on her walls for a few minutes before falling back asleep. She grabbed a blue dragon plushie and hugged it to her heart.
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