#i feel like every little grain that i gain in understanding takes me two steps back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kira-fluff · 3 years

Note

Hello! Have you done headcanons for a MC that is a really good artist? Like, that's what she loves and hopes to make a career out of it? (For the RFA, V, And Saeran?) thankyou! Bye bye! \ ^-^ /

a/n: I LOOOVEE this idea! As a passionate artist myself, this one hits home :) As you probably know, I’ve updated my rules, since you specified 2, I will pick 2 from the RFA :) Again, let me know if you’d like to have different characters than the ones I picked! I went for MC instead of Y/n this time. Let me know what you think. Thanks!

Also, this is pre-relationship and it may or may not have turned into a confession headcanon oh gosh

MC is an Artist +Confession bonus

V +bonus confession

As a fellow artist, V would be incredibly proud of you

Even though he might sometimes have trouble saying it

V has always showed actions above his words

You’d quickly gathered this from his lack of communication with the RFA chat and text messages between the two of you in general

But you understood him, in a way

You related to the freedom he felt whenever he expressed himself through his photography

Because you felt that same feelings when you painted

You were incredibly inspired by Beatrix Potter, your memories of her various artworks inspiring you to do the same

You adored nature just as much as V did

Together, you both made a beautiful pair

You wore an adorable flower-patterned, yellow sun dress

A beige sunhat you held to your head with a hand, carrying your brushes and paint palette

Him, dressed smartly in a sweater with khaki pants

V could carry your easel for you, his professional photography bag slung around his shoulder.

You’d laugh, turning around to look at him, the wind blowing in your face, urging him to “Come on!”

V had never thought you more beautiful than the time you’d accidentally tripped into a meadow of freesias, scattering them every which way

You gasped, whipping out your pocket book, etching down the scene before you

After a measurable silence, you looked over at V who had been quiet in taking pictures of you

He keeps many copies of the pictures, putting one in his wallet and other places he’d look frequently just to make him smile

He’d never let others besides himself see them, but they were the most beautiful photos he’d ever taken, and this not just by his standards of your beauty

You sometimes would catch yourself sketching him during your time outside with him, sitting in a quiet pasture

The world’s creatures were your muse, but you couldn’t help yourself from taking every opportunity to capture V’s every expression

And maybe that’s when you realized you were completely and utterly in love with him.

In those quiet times in the meadows, all along you were in love with him.

When you’d caught V taking candids of you, you always would beg him to delete them, which he begrudgingly would, if you really begged him

But.. other than that, you were positive V had no real feelings for you outside of a deep friendship.

That must’ve done it. He knows.

Because suddenly, V had become incredibly distant, flaking out of your naturalist escapades, becoming increasingly difficult to come in contact at all..

it was all pointing to the fact that he had realized how deeply you loved him.

You in turn, pushed away everyone around you.

Rejection hurt. So much. One does not truly understand it until they’ve felt it themselves.

It came to a point where you had no more tears left to cry, you knew he was gone forever.

Your love, your inspiration.

All was gone.

You hadn’t touched a paint brush in months

You’d been skipping meals for a while, beginning to feel more and more fatigue because of it.

It came to the point where all in the RFA (except V) had become so worried about you that they’d sent Jaehee and Yoosung over to check on you

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d checked your phone

Your blinds and curtains had been shut for a subsequent amount of time.

It had been weeks since you’d last changed your clothes, your hair was unkept.

You stopped taking care of yourself completely, emptiness overtaking you.

You had always had a dream of making artwork your career.. but just when your freelance career had begun to take off.. you lost everything.

You couldn’t bring yourself to touch your paints or pocket book. It reminded you too much of him.

You weren’t concerned about money, Rika’s apartment was already paid for and… well, with no real meal expenses, you didn’t feel any real purpose to continue.

You heard a soft knock on the door.

Instead of answering, you groaned, rolling over in your sheets – hoping if you ignored the knocking they’d assumed you weren’t home.

Any last grain of hope you’d had left you a long time ago.

“….MC?”

You slowly sat up in your bed. It was Yoosung.

You instantly felt shame for ignoring them.. and looking, well, like this.

“I’m coming in!” Came a loud shout, causing you to panic.

Damn. Seven must’ve opened the apartment.

Seven was concerned for you, given the surveillance footage, he couldn’t find almost any instances when you’d left your apartment.

Given your apparent closeness, Seven shot a text to Yoosung, Jaehee, and of course, V.

Yoosung and Jaehee replied in agreement and concern, V, however, said something very different.

// V: I’m sorry. I can’t go. >> [sent, 6:08am]

707: I thot the 2 of u were rly close. Did sth happen? >> [sent, 6:09am]

V: I’m selfish. I can’t see her anymore. >> [sent, 6:29am]

707: ? >>

707: > [sent, 6:29am]

read, 6:32am. //

You began to cry, embarrassed and ashamed, as Jaehee and Yoosung called your name throughout your hollow feeling apartment.

Immediate concern covered their faces when they saw you teary eyed in your bed.

“Oh, MC, hey, it’s going to be okay.”, Jaehee immediately held your head in her arms.

She ordered Yoosung to get some food from your local convenience store

From there, she opted to begin cleaning you up.

Jaehee didn’t want to force you to do or say anything, so she never asked questions – unless to ask whether you were comfortable taking a shower or perhaps, eating something later.

You were not opposed to the help, rather, you felt indebted to them, feeling guilty for causing Jaehee, Yoosung, and likely Seven a great amount of trouble.

Jaehee made quick work of stripping your bed sheets, stuffing in the laundry and opening the blinds, cleaning your room and dusting where necessary

A part of her chastised herself for not doing so sooner, but she and the others were afraid that they’d be intruding on your right to take a social media break or something of the sort.

Yoosung came back relatively quickly, a meal in hand, per Jaehee’s request.

He made quick work of making his specialty – an omurice omelette.

Jaehee continued to tidy up, checking up with you when she’d realized the apartment had gotten too silent

You at last stepped out of the shower, your hair taking on a glimmer, as if thanking you for taking care of it at last.

You washed your face, trying to gather your thoughts as your shoved a crew-neck shirt over your head, opting for jeans and slippers as well.

At last coming out of the bathroom, you at last made eye contact with Yoosung and Jaehee you began to cry again.

Without hesitation, they rushed toward you for a hug, hushing you when you’d blubbered, “I’m sorry, thank you, I’m so sorry” in between dry heaves.

After a quick call to Seven from Jaehee, Zen, Jumin and Saeyoung had made their way to your apartment as well.

They each had their piece to share, kind words of encouragement and love.

You were happy by their words, but…

V wasn’t here.

At last gaining confidence through their encouraging words, you ushered them to the large sofas that laid beneath your TV.

Looking down, you said, “I-I’m sure you’re all wondering about V and I..”

You didn’t dare look up when your sniffles began.

You took a deep breath before beginning, “This is nothing to his fault, but….” your lip wobbled, “I believe.. I think he realized that I had completely fallen for him,” you laughed pathetically, “Still am”

Seven began, “MC–”

“I don’t blame him, really, I never intended to tell him… it’s awkward.”

Zen clenched his fist, “That asshole…”

“And my friend” Jumin quickly rebutted.

“P-please! I didn’t tell you this to make you dislike him or anything! I just felt like I owed you all an explanation…”, you begged.

Seven stared at you for a while before saying, “MC… V he’s– I think you should tell him properly.”

Zen, ever the hot-head, stood up shouting, “And get her heart broken all over again?! How heartless can you be!”

You smiled ingenuinely, “He’s right, Zen.”

Before you could change your mind, you picked up your phone, and for what felt like years, you at last dialed V’s number.

On the last ring, you heard sound that the caller had, picked up though there was no sound on the other line.

Jumin and Yoosung ushered everyone out of the room, deciding to take a little stroll outside the apartment complex.

After a moment of silence you started, “…..V?”

You now heard him breathing on the other line.

“V, I know you’re there. Please…” You felt your voice wavering, “P-please… come to my apartment.”, you whispered a final, “please.”

V was silent for what felt like hours before saying, “……..okay.”

You hung up, attempting to mentally prepare yourself for the world of hurt you were about to endure again.

After a long silence in which you’d zoned out, you suddenly heard the door bell ring.

You glanced up. Only V ever used the doorbell.. always had.

You slowly crept toward the door, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

Gently opening the door a crack, you took in V.

It had been a few months, but he looked so different. So…hollow.

You moved for him to come inside, closing the door behind you.

“Um, V, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“You already know my answer.”

You looked up, tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to ignore his statement.

“V… I love you.”

You’d never seen V so taken aback, his whole face grew pale.

“Y-you love me?”

“Have. For a long time.”

You looked down, “You can go now.”

Yet you didn’t hear a sound of movement.

Looking up, V was still standing there, shocked.

At last, you managed to hear the softest whisper, “All this time….”

You leaned in closer, “What?”

“I- I loved you.. I love you. Since we’d first met. I-I thought you didn’t want a thing to do with me. Thought you’d figured out I’d fallen in love, so I distanced myself.. selfishly to try not to get hurt, but I still did. And all this time you felt the same.”

You were now the stunned one.

“Really?”

V gently smiled at you, enveloping you in a tight hug, “Really.”

Jumin +bonus confession

You loved to create stories

Various areas of fiction, watercolor splashing against crisp, white pages

Telling a beautiful story in color

And Jumin adored it.

He adored you.

He admired your deep passion to create and your love for everything.

He couldn’t understand how you could see the beauty in everything around you… for Jumin, he tended to consider things in their degree of usefulness.

For the longest time, his father and those around him had encouraged this mentality

And so, Jumin rarely sought for things that would have no real purpose – his penthouse proved this point by its bare walls – void of artistic charm

It wasn’t until you’d met him through the RFA that you’d immediately brought a force of color into his life

He remembered well the first time you’d come to his apartment

You gently ran your soft fingers against the walls of his penthouse saying, “Mr. Han, I think you need some more color in your house. It looks like a hospital in here!” You turned to him, a playful smile on your face.

The breath was knocked out of him.

God, he could never say no to you. If you’d ask, he’d get you anything you’d ever need.

But he loved that you didn’t appreciate that kind of affection. Jumin knew he immediately ran to gift giving for love because it was the only way he had been shown love throughout his life…. and, it didn’t really mean anything to him.

Still, he desperately wanted to be helpful, so if you were ever in a financial struggle, he’d offer to assist you.

You’d proudly decline, declaring you could do it all yourself. He liked that about you too. Your independence, your kindness.

It didn’t take long for him to realize he had taken to you greatly.

One day when you’d come over for a visit, while petting Elizabeth III, you said, “Hey, Jumin.. have you ever fallen in love before?”

Tension filled the air while Jumin stared at you.

How could MC be so blind.

When it had been a few moments he’d not answered, you awkwardly said, “J-just kidding! I figured you’re probably engaged – that was a stupid question, sorry..”

Jumin was stricken by your sudden uncertainty, but didn’t make anything of it.

“I’m not engaged. Don’t listen to anything my father says regarding that. And to answer your question, I think I might have an idea of what that feels like.”

His eyes bore into yours, but he of course missed the look of sorrow that’d taken over your eyes.

He’d watch you paint all day if he had the time.

He couldn’t understand how you could look at a blank sheet of paper and write something so poetically beautiful and paint a lovely picture to match

It was all a part of his amazement of you.

He could watch you for hours, humming to yourself while you played around with contrast colors for your watercolor pieces

No other art had value quite like your own

He encouraged you at every chance he got, “MC, you should go into the arts.”

“That’s what I want to do! But, Dad says the arts aren’t a realistic job.”, you frowned.

“That may have been true in some outdated decade, but in our world today people are always looking for something hand-made and authentic. When we research our products, we look for items that have a ‘signature’ to them. Trust me, people want your art not only because it is breath-taking.. but because you made it.”

You smiled at that, Jumin was always one to put a rational thought forward for your consideration, something you’d cherished.

“Besides, I think you’d be happy anywhere you can create.”

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug, “Thank you, Ju Ju.”

Staying close friends became increasingly difficult, but Jumin wasn’t going to risk losing his friendship with you because of feelings.

So you surprised him when you began randomly, “Jumin, I think I’m in love with you, okay?”

You made eye contact, doing your best to show you were serious.

As soon as he realized you were authentic in your confession, you turned around and began sprinting, flying open the door to his penthouse

Jumin immediately chased after you, both in a full sprint

You screamed when you heard his breathing and steps behind you and so increased your speed

You had at last reached a dead end, but Jumin was a ways behind you.

You reached for the elevator button, furiously clicking it – thankfully it came on the first ding.

You rushed inside, repeatedly tapping the door-closing button.

You sighed at last when you felt the elevator moving up, gasping for air.

You attempted to continue going up to the highest story, which happened to be 320, grateful that this damn skyscraper had a ton of floors.

You froze when the door came to a stop at floor 13. You panicked, trying to force the doors not to open.

In front of you was a random businessmen, looked slightly peeved at the long wait he must’ve had for the elegant glass elevator.

You apologized, allowing him into the elevator along with a crowd of impatient people, some gorgeous women with a smart suit and long hair, their phone resting on their cheek next to their ear, some more businessmen, glancing anxiously at their watches.

As the elevator climbed to floor 21, a heap of people acknowledged their stop, pressing out of the elevator shaft and onto the busy hallways of what appeared to be the finance department.

You sighed, pressing more buttons to go up higher.

You screeched when you felt a hand on both of your wrists, slamming you into the wall behind you.

Jumin’s eyes were glowing from the slight sweat that was beginning to form on his brow

He looked pissed.

“Don’t. Ever. Run. Away. From me. Again.”

You gazed up at him, a guilty expression clouding your face

“S-sorry..”, you quickly looked away, not bearing to look at the anger in his expression, the way he clenched his jaw and his eyes took on a darker hue… brows knit together. He was really mad.

“You didn’t let me answer.” He said, his voice deep.

He leaned in closer.. you closed your eyes in anticipation.

He breathed a laugh through his nose, resting his forehead on your collarbone and shoulder.

You blushed in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Jumin hugged you tightly, “I love you too, MC.”

Zen

As a fellow artist, Zen was overjoyed to say the least when he found out about your love for singing

Your social media accounts were growing rapidly from your posts of music covers and original songs

You also had a deep love to playing the harp.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to convince your father to let you pay half and he pay the other of the expense of a 200,000 Won pedal harp

But you loved it so much

And so does Zen

He’d definitely insist on doing a collaboration with you

After the recording session and upload, both your following counts grew rapidly

Comments of all types flooded your posts:

OMG!!! ZEN!! BEAUTIFUL ZEN!!

who’s the b*tch next to him?

omg, right?

ew lol

AHHHH I LOVE YOU ZEN!!!

MC looks so cute…

fyp!!

ZEN AND MC WOULD MAKE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE AWEEEE

I agree!! 귀엽다 (cute)

Over the course of your social media endeavor, you’d learned to ignore the ruthless comments of jealous fans

Zen was worried you’d taken them personally so he validated you a lot over the period that the video was a hit

Zen wrote a song about you (which he definitely serenaded you with):

“your passion, my passion one in the same this song – our communicator of my love to you. your smile each day this serenade a simple translator the time we have means so much i wouldn’t spend it any other way.” - radio wave COMMUNICATION by Zen

The song overtook the song charts, making it’s way to the #1 spot in half a day

You’d asked him, “Zen, are you going to make that a single? You are, aren’t you? Right?”

“No, this is something for you and you only”

You smiled at that, but said, “Zen, love like this deserves to be shared. This song will mean something so special to someone else, just like it means something to me. Music, what we do.. it was made to be shared.”

Zen looked at you with stars in his eyes, taking you in a big hug.

You truly were the kindest person he’d ever met.. and he loved you so, so much.

Even though you may not have realized yet what the truth of his feelings were in his serenade, he knew he’d wait for the day in anticipation when he’d finally ask you to be his.

Saeran

Saeran wasn’t personally one for dramatics, but he loved watching you perform

You’d sing for all kinds of musicals – you’d act for a series of plays

He loved it when you’d act in classics like Macbeth or The Phantom of the Opera

It felt like a safe place to forget everything in his life and just watch you

But he hadn’t fallen for you for who you pretended to be, but for who you really are.

You were shy – something he found surprising (but unbelievably adorable) because you were a well-known actress

When you’d first met him, you were walking outside the entrance way of the theater a few hours before your showtime.

You had accidentally tripped and spilled coffee all over some tax forms you had to fill out

You let out a soft, “oh no!”

Saeran had been early for a nice seat (hopefully away from other people) and noticed a woman in a cute over-sized sweater was muttering words under her breath, picking up what seemed to be endless amounts of papers

He quietly walked over and just as softly said, “…need some help..?”

You were surprised at the sudden presence of a stranger

“o-oh! … yes please..”

he smiled, leaning down and picking up stacks of coffee-stained paper

“would you like me to carry them for you?”, he said

“are you– are you sure?” you looked up at him innocently in concern

he answered by gently taking the stack of papers, “where to..?”

“um… i’ll show you..”

he nodded, following you to the backstage area where there was a mirror attached to a dresser, stage makeup covering the top of it.

“you’re an actress?”

you grinned shyly, “everyone’s surprised..”

“n-no, i think it suits you. i was surprised because i’m watching the show tonight.”

“r-really? you’ll watch me?”

he nodded, blushing at your hopeful smile

“i’ll do my best then, if you’ll watch me..”

“good.” he looked away

“i’ll be waiting” you said with a soft smile

“so will i”

yeah you two were literally so adorable.

enjoy my beautifuls

76 notes · View notes

sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

Text

Just Us (Chapter Thirteen: Feel)

←Chapter Twelve

The two of them stood next to the Garrison Captain’s feet, one on each side. The other was being held up by his neck, struggling to break free. Once I opened the door to the café, he was thrown in, face hitting the wooden floor.

“You offered to take the brats a while ago, well here they fucking are. This one caused a huge fight and spilled over all our grain stores for the week.” He pointed at Eren on the ground, both of them glaring at each other. Eren’s gaze made me shiver much more than the wind coming in did. It was the middle of a snow storm and I had no idea how mad Eren made the Captain who was willing to pull them through the wind and the flurries. However, I didn’t question it, seeing how cold the blue-eyed boy was. His nose and cheeks were red and I could hear his teeth chattering. The only thing protecting the girl was a red scarf.

“Yes, I’ll take them.” He then proceeded to shove the others into the café and turn back around, pulling the hood of his thick jacket up. I quickly closed the door, frowning as the snow flurried in, and turned to the three of them. The girl was at Eren’s side, helping him up while the blonde boy was talking to him about how much trouble they’d gotten in. I just looked down at them, trying to hide the pity in my face. The grandfather the boy had, was he one of them? I sighed and took one step towards them so they looked up at me.

“Do you three want anything to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate? Go sit by the fire and take your shoes and socks off before your feet get too wet.” They seemed to be taken aback by my accepting tone. It probably seemed a lot more empty though than when I’d given the bread to the blonde boy, but for the past month, I had no energy to give emotion to society anymore. Every time I tried, it would end in a fury where I had to defend the Scouts. I was tired. That’s why I closed the shop this week, not thinking anyone would come knocking at my door in such a harsh winter.

I looked out at the window again, thinking about how cold they all must be. I was so selfish too, thinking about Levi’s wellbeing in the snow storm. He had a winter coat, but did the Wall Maria refugees all have one? They left on such a nice, warm day in late January, everyone was so surprised that the weather had turned out this way. Maybe it was a sign that what the Scouts were doing was blessed by some higher power. Sometimes we have warm winters, and other times we get no snow at all. We thought this winter was going to be the latter and how wrong we were. A month later, when we were almost to spring, the blizzards hit.

I yawned before putting the chocolate flakes into the milk I’d found. Adding to my tiredness was the amount of nightmares I had while he was gone. I was starting to realize why Levi drank so much tea. I had one with me now as I didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Here you go. Just wait a bit for the chocolate to dissolve.” I handed the three their own mugs and I could instantly tell how they were feeling by the gaze at the milk. Eren was snarling at his milk, his hands shaking. The blonde haired boy seemed to be close to tears, taking his spoon and swirling it around. The girl showed no emotion, just staring at Eren. I assumed it was their personalities. While they sat on the raised brick hearth of the fireplace, I sat on the floor in front of them. It was probably a really pitiful sight, a thin coat over an even thinner, weak looking girl.

“What are your names?” They all looked up at me as I started talking to them, but I was now mimicking the blonde boy, staring at my tea and swirling in some of the last honey stores I had. I couldn’t go a minute without thinking about him it was pitiful. I’d picked at my thumb too and a tiny speck of blood came out.

“Mikasa.”

“Eren.”

“Armin Arlet, Ma’am.” A tiny smile traced your lips, but it dropped easily after a second. The blonde boy was cute.

“Just called me, Eva. Titles don’t matter in a time like this.” I took a sip of the burning liquid, letting my body feel something. It tasted like him. I set it down next to me, not wanting to taste it anymore.

“Miss. Eva, why did Captain Tresus take us to you?” Just like I observed before, Armin was the mouthpiece of the three. His question made me think back to the days I gave them bread. How long ago was that? I’d lost track of time completely while I waited. Back then, you were so naive thinking that Wall Maria falling was the worst thing that could happen to society. It was up there, but this, now, was so depressing. At least after Maria fell, you had Levi with you. So selfish.

“They threatened to kick you out in front of me a long time ago, and I said that they could just send you to me.” Armin and Eren’s eyes both widened, one in fear and the other in anger. Hopefully it wasn’t directed at me.

“We aren’t allowed back?!” Eren gripped is mug harder, some of the liquid splashing over the edge on his hand. When he felt the hot milk tough his hand, he winced, but seemed not to care enough. He just had that rage in his eyes. If he didn’t get that under control, he’d be in much more trouble. I knew first hand.

“They never said that. I’m pretty sure they aren’t allowed to kick minors out, even if you ruined their grain supply,” you directed at Eren. That made whatever he was holding in burst.

“It wasn’t theirs! They were taking the grain from us to eat for themselves all while making fun of the people they sent out to die!” His voice echoed through the empty café and I saw Armin’s eyes fill with silent tears as his friend said that. He didn’t think his grandfather was going to die, but it was a suicide mission they were sent on. I wanted to reach over and pat him on the head or something. Something to tell him that it was going to be alright. Armin and I were in the same boat, stuck waiting for someone to return from the most horrifying thing that has the pleasure of gracing our ears. However, Armin’s grandfather had a much smaller chance of returning. Armin must have known that, seeing his reaction to Eren’s harsh words. I’d heard those types of words too much over the last month and a half that I was numb to them. My calmness probably scared them.

“Would you three like something to eat? I can’t offer much in terms of meat, but I can make some porridge and bread. I suppose my offer to the Captain was for you three to come here and help me make bread for the other refugees, but that’s not an option anymore. Would you like a blanket Armin? You look very cold.”

“U-uh, I…” I smiled down at him, standing up, taking my teacup with you to go make them some porridge. All fake smiles.

“I’ll get you one anyways.” I could tell they were trying to figure out who I was and why I was doing these things for them by the whispers that I heard. I just turned my back to them and let them talk while I started to make porridge on the stove. I gave Armin one of the blankets I’d brought down from my apartment, planning to sleep near the fireplace tonight because my apartment was too cold to bear. He refused it first, but when I went back to put the porridge into bowls, he’d wrapped it around himself, engulfing everything but his face. Eren seemed to be warm enough by the anger boiling inside of his stomach, but soon he settled down and got under the blanket with Armin. Mikasa just held the scarf closer to her, looking at Eren or my back. Her gaze was scarily familiar and you realized it was probably because she shared similar features to Levi, however she seemed to be oriental like the extinct people Mr. Flynn had once talked about.

“Why are you giving us food? Don’t the people here hate us? That’s why they sent them away to fight the Titans.” I spooned some porridge in my mouth, again not caring that I was burning my throat while doing it, and shook my head at Eren.

“Someone I care about left with them too. I don’t hate you, I understand you.” That seemed to set him off again. Something about me, a person who’s in a house and has food, understanding him didn’t sit right in his heart. How could I understand his situation if it looked like I had everything he didn’t? In retrospect, it wasn’t the best thing to say. I understood only a little what he was going through, the orphan and fighting for yourself part, but not the trauma of watching your district be eaten by titans.

“You can never understand us,” he growled, gripping the spoon hard. Okay, this was getting to be over-the-top. I understood why the Garrison might think he was too much. The anger in his eyes only let you see a little bit of what he had inside, and I’m sure that part was terrifying. If this boy got somewhere where he could display this anger, it wouldn’t be a good scene. Was I going to try and be his therapist? Well, I shouldn’t be. Not in the state that I’m in, but of course I was. That’s what the Flynn clan does.

“Well, I’m an orphan, too. I grew up in the Underground. Someone I care for is out there right now with the refugee’s fighting to retake Wall Maria. I’d say we’re pretty similar, minus the titans.” I’d peaked Armin’s interest and his blue eyes shined up at me. He was the type to want to gain information. I could tell he was smart and well-read by the way he talked. Maybe I’d give him a book or two.

“You grew up in the Underground? I’ve never met someone from there. What is it like? If you don’t mind answering…” I almost laughed at his sensitive nature. Normally, I wouldn’t be willing to indulge someone in my past, but today I was feeling open. It was because all four of us were now at a certain lowest point and he looked like he really wanted to know.

“Awful. Damp. Smelly. I lived in an orphanage almost my whole time there. You’d get beat up all the time by people looking for food or money, none of which I had. The man who owned this bakery found me and took me home with other kids in my same situation. I guess I’m giving you food because it’s a habit I’ve developed. Take kids off the street and try to help them see the light. That’s what I thought I was going to do when I saw the Garrison Chief kick you, Eren. Sorry I can’t offer you more.” Eren’s face then morphed into one of guilt. It made me smile lightly, not a real smile, but one that knew what he was thinking. Too quick to judge. I used to be like that too. This therapist thing was really about to happen.

“You know someone in the Scouts?” His tone had changed from before, and now it was the same as Armin’s inquiring one. Was he also a little boy infatuated with Humanity’s suicidal heroes?

“Yes, I do. Haven’t seen or heard from him since they left.” I had to fight down some tears in front of the kids. Every time I thought about it, it made me cry. I didn’t know where Levi was, and there was no possible way he could send a letter with some sign or location. All I knew is that he probably wasn’t dead. I didn’t feel anything but loneliness in my heart, and that was the only indication he was alive. It was ironic that all these negative emotions made me feel comfort and safety.

“I’m joining the Scouts. Next year. I want to kill all of them. All of the titans.” The look was back again, the one that gave you chills. This type of thinking was dangerous, because once he started his plan, he wasn’t going to stop. The anger, if no one quenched it, would continue on. I knew this anger all too well. Was he angry at the titans? Angry at the world? Which was it?

“What are you going to do when all the titans are gone?” I took another drink of tea, regretting feeling the taste when talking about things like this. It just made it harder and harder to focus on the situation at hand.

Eren paused, probably not ever having thought about that possibility. In all honesty, it probably wasn’t a possibility.

‘“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well, you have three years to figure it out before you join the Scouts. I’ve heard the man who trains you is brutal.” Levi had mentioned his name in passing. Keith. He was loud and wasn’t afraid to deal out punishments for the littlest thing. It was a point to break someone so the military could rebuild them in it’s image, and he seemed to be the perfect person for the job. He was also one of the only people who survived long enough in the Survey Corps to be retired to another position.

“Fighting titans isn’t as heroic as you’re making it sound, Eren. While the Scouts… while they really are the ones who will save us, if anyone, they’re also the first to die. They’re the first to see their friends get eaten. The first to… I don’t mean to scare you, sorry,” I said that in response to Armin’s horrified face, “but it’s a big decision to make so young. I’ve seen someone go to the Scouts and never come back, but I know people who’ve been there for years and are still alive. If you have any doubts, then I’d advise you to not go.” Eren was determined, I knew that. There was no way my words were going to change his mind on this. However, I could see the fear behind Armin’s eyes. I wondered if he was being dragged into this by Eren, or if he really wanted to fight back. Maybe it was his grandfather’s possible death that motivated him, but you still felt his fear from across the room. Mikasa looked determined to follow any and everywhere Eren went, so she was gone too. But Armin. Something made me want to save him. Not from the winter cold, but from the fate he was creating for himself by joining the Scouts. Maybe I’d ask Levi to watch over them if he comes back.

No. When he comes back. When. When. When.

“Miss Eva?” I snapped back to the conversation we were having, noticing I’d dropped your spoon on the ground. Hopefully, they didn’t ask me anything.

“I’m sorry, did you ask something?” Armin seemed hesitant to ask again, and it was almost hurting me how timid he was. He shouldn’t be fighting titans.

“We just wanted to know if you knew about the mission to reclaim Wall Maria before…” I sighed, remembering the day Levi left. I thought about it over and over, the way he acted so differently. He was receptive to every touch, even initiating it while I made him some food to take along the way. To me, there was something wrong when I heard that the Scouts would be leaving at night and close to the outer edge of Trost. While he was holding me from behind, his face in my neck, I asked if I could send him off since it was the first expedition of the year. He gripped me harder, almost making me drop the rice from the stove, and rejected it. Even though he seemed to never leave my side in the house, when it was time for him to leave, he promptly let me go on my doorstep and only kissed my forehead. There was no goodbye, no smile, no annoying remark, no last kiss; it almost upset me, the quick change once he made his exodus.

I realized a day later, after finally knowing what he was leaving to do, that he had to act like that to be able to leave. He probably thought that if he kissed me, he would be pulled back in too tight. I blamed myself too, for giving him weeks of regular, domestic bliss, that probably tortured him with every fleeting moment. If only I knew, I would have made it easier for him to leave. I wouldn’t have been so bold with my affections. His apprehension to sleep in my bed made sense now. It wasn’t just because of the connotation, but also because if he woke up on January First, entwined in my warmth, would he be able to throw the covers off and leave me?

“No, I didn’t. I had no idea what I was sending him off to.” This time, I couldn’t hold back the tears that fell into my porridge. The only good thing in this situation was that fact that I gave him all the emotion that I could have. I’d sit in my bed for the first month, listing off the reasons that he didn’t tell me. The obvious, logical one was that I was a security threat. How far back did he know about this plan? That night on the couch, I was delivering bread to the refugees every other day. Did he not tell me because he didn’t want me to feel his hurt? He didn’t want me to tell them? The other one was a reason that had come from my mouth originally.

I’m not going to hold myself back because I’m afraid of what could happen.

If he told me about the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria, would I have acted differently? Would I have been more reserved or would I have intensified my affections because I only had a few weeks left with him? It seemed that he didn’t want to entertain that idea, and left me in some form of naïve domestic bliss.

“You three are much braver than I’ll ever be. I could never hold the responsibility the Scouts have.” I could never keep an operation like that under wraps. I could never listen to a government who sacrifices their people. I wasn’t strong like Levi.

They left a few hours after that, and at some point I turned my attitude around, making them help me with some pastry orders. Eren was hopeless, so I made him run the mixer while Mikasa and Armin helped me assemble and decorate. Mikasa was amazing it at from the start, and I let her dollop on icing without supervision. It seemed like we all accepted that we didn’t want to talk about what was happening outside the bakery, so I asked them about their hobbies and interests. Anything to get our mind off the expedition. Armin liked to read, and I offered him a few books to take with him. Eren didn’t really do anything other than get into fights with some local boys and Mikasa was always the one who saved them. It was fitting for Eren, but I secretly hoped he had some other interest than fighting. Maybe cooking or something. I couldn’t criticize him though, because at that age I was exactly the same.

I was able to find some heavier sweaters for then, stealing some of Ben’s and my older clothes to give to them. The snow had stopped, but it wasn’t going to stop being cold and I didn’t want to see Armin shiver like I had before. Something about how delicate he was made my heart try to warm as I put the coat and blanket around his shoulders. He was already starting to develop a cold and his nose was running.

“Stop giving the kids handouts. Pretty soon you’ll have all the little brats at your door wanting food and clothing.” I glared at the Captain who was sitting warm in his military issued coat. Just like Levi would be.

“You’ve told me that before and nothing happened. I’ll give them what I want.” I could see Eren smirk up at the Captain who was finally getting back what he gave to others. I stood up and put my hands on my hips, ready to chew him out if he said something out of line next.

“It seems helping raggedy kids off the street runs in the family,” he sneered and my hands went into fists.

“It seems that the Garrison picks their officers the same way, Captain.” He didn’t like that I got in the last word, so he wasn’t going to stop his insult.

“How does it feel to support a group who lead thousands of people to their deaths, Eva? If you supported the Garrison half as much as you did the Scouts, maybe your café would still be open.”

“At least I support a group who does something. All I see the Garrison doing is drinking themselves to death on the street. Do you really think you can fight against the titans when they show up?” The kids were just looking back and forth between the two of us as we spouted out insults. My anger was steadily growing as he kept going on about how the Scouts were going to all die outside the walls and how stupid they had become as an organization once Erwin took control.

“That is, if they come back, Eva. Your little love affair might be coming to a close soon.” My eyes widened at his statement, knowing exactly what he was talking about. He, along with others in Trost, had noticed Levi’s presence at the café, and tried to connect the dots themselves. Levi made sure he always walked in the front door during lunch rush, wearing the uniform that I washed the night previous. Still, it made people talk, like they enjoy doing.

“He’s going to die, Eva. You have to know that!” The Captain stuck his face out near mine, a sly smirk on his face.

One day he’s going to die, Eva. If he doesn’t leave you before that.

Scouts die everyday. There’s no guarantee that I’ll come back.

I sent him to the white ground, the blood from his nose painting it red. My knuckles burned, knowing that I hit him incorrectly; not the way Levi taught me. However, the anger I had built up over these past months had given me enough power to send him sprawling. Armin had let out a little shout, but the way that Eren reacted to it made me pause and collect my labored breathing. He was looking at the Captain, a look I’ve never seen before. A look others had probably seen on my face. He was smiling down at the Captain who was struggling to get up, holding a broken nose. My actions fueled the ones I wanted Eren to let go of because I was no different than him. I saw myself in Eren, that’s why I wanted to talk to him, and now here we were displaying the same behaviors I wanted him to stop.

“If you kids need anything else, just come here.” I slammed the door behind me and locked it, knowing the Garrison Captain would want to get inside and give me a piece of his mind.

I went to sit down on the hearth, not tending to the slowly dying fire. I just held my head in my hands and cried, not caring about the blood I could feel popping up around my knuckles. It was better to feel something other than sadness. That was the only good side of this situation.

Three Months After the Start of the Mission to Reclaim Wall Maria

“I talked to Duran recently…” Ben trailed off, de-pitting the other cherries as I was heating up the sugar.

“I think you’re the only one who talks to him still.” A Garrison member held up their coffee cup for a refill and I smiled at him to let him know I was on my way. The Captain hadn’t shown up here since that day.

“Well, I’m the only one who thinks he’s a semi-decent person. He said he’s gotten some free time and might come down to visit. Maybe we could send a note to Catrin, too and get together like we used to.” I laughed at that, more of a scoff, and went to fill the member’s cup up, obliging in their second long conversation before I reverted my face back to its neutral position.

“I didn’t think Duran liked us that much to want to come back. He didn’t leave on a good note.” Ben put the cherries into the pot and I stirred, mashing them to make the filling for tonight’s cherry turnovers.

“You two didn’t leave on a good note, but he said that he’s going to do some intense training soon, so he wants to come visit before he can’t. Since I’m this family’s head, I’m going to invite him. You know he’s going to want to see the apartment and the café.” I gave him a confused look, knowing the Duran that got into a screaming match with me before he stormed off without a goodbye. He hated the café and the apartment. In fact, he screamed that he wasn’t going to come back either, but now he’s asking to visit? He must’ve hit his head.

“I don’t think Duran’s presence will be the best for my mood.” Ben took a deep sigh, not knowing how to help me at this point. Being a good brother, he was trying any and every way to keep me happy and occupied. He also said that Jonas had heard people talking about me on the street, specifically how I seemed depressed, and so Ben had to come and see me because Jonas was still too stubborn. Ben said that to make me laugh, but somehow it made me feel worse.

Even if we fought, if Jonas was hurting as much as I was, I would have visited him. Apparently, a whole childhood of friendship didn’t mean the same thing to him.

“Duran told me something about that too, but I don’t think it would be the best for your mood to tell you.” I took the cherries off the heat and turned to take someone’s order, the fake smile plastered back on my face. Whatever Duran had to say, I was interested in hearing it. It was the most comfortable to live in naivety for the past three months, knowing in my heart that Levi wasn’t dead. It was also easier to be selfish that way. I didn’t want to worry about millions of people, I just wanted to worry about one. It made me feel like a horrible person every night when I wrote in my personal log, but at this point I couldn’t pull self-hate out of the vat of emotion I had inside. The only ones that came out regularly were self-pity, anger, sadness, and maybe the occasional sadistic humor. Everything else was fake. I was putting on a show to the people around me so they would stop asking if I was okay. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want them hearing it from my own mouth.

“I don’t care what he says.” It was short and curt, enough to cut Ben off for a few minutes, frustrated with how I was acting. He was going to end up giving me some sort of lecture on why I should be happy, only for me to blow him off to go shut myself in my apartment before he could drag me to some family dinner. Those were the only times I saw Jonas, and even then we didn’t talk or look at each other.

“Do you not talk to people because you feel they won’t understand you or…?” There it was. I rolled my eyes.

“I just don’t want to talk about my feelings right now.” He put one hand on his hip.

“So when and with who? Everyone here can see you’re dying inside.” Ouch. I went back to making the turnovers.

“I don’t know, Ben. Not now and not with you.” That’s how I knew something was wrong deep down. Ben had to have known too. I told him everything, easily. If it wasn’t Jonas who knew, you could count on Ben. It ranges from my favorite color as a child to the worst thing I’ve ever done to someone. Yet, these feelings seem too scary to tell him. Too raw. They also were quite immoral to say out loud, and I felt that Ben, someone who worked closely with the people the government sent out to kill, would see me differently after I told him. I know he wouldn’t judge me, but there was just something there that didn’t let me, no matter how much he pressed. This may be the only thing I haven’t let Ben in on, and he was probably hurt too… and very concerned.

At night, I’d try to write it out like Levi said, this feeling of needed to keep self-secrecy, but I just didn’t have the words to explain it. I didn’t have the words to explain a lot of things in my log, and most of the entries were not even half a page long. I would detail what happened during the day, which was the same thing over and over, and then I’d write a sentence on how I was feeling. When he came back, I knew he’d be disappointed at how little I’d shown him.

Levi had left a letter the night he left, which I didn’t find till morning. This letter detailed everything that he didn’t tell me about the expedition, and also reassurances of his safety. He also instructed me to write out what happens while he’s gone so I wouldn’t forget him. Everyday I wrote, and everyday I’d read over it and hate the words on the page. I’d imagine him reading it and feeling burdened by what his absence made me feel. That was probably another reason I couldn’t write down what I was truly feeling.

So there it always was, like a rain cloud over my head for three months straight.

Tonight’s entry actually went over a half of a page because I had to elaborate on how Duran and I left each other after Mr. Flynn’s funeral.

Today was the same as yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. Ben came again, trying to get me to talk to him and helping at the café. Mr. Shwiner ordered a latte instead of black coffee, but I didn’t ask why. Ben told me he talked to Duran, remember, my brother. He’s joining some new MP branch and so he has mandatory training, and somehow that willed him to want to come to the place he hates before being locked up in wonderful Mitras. The last time Duran was here was after Mr. Flynn’s funeral and we got into a screaming match in the café. He said he never wanted to see this stupid place again and I slapped him across the face. It doesn’t make sense to me why he wants to come back. I don’t want him to come back. I want you to come back. Yes, that’s it for the day. Hopefully, this will be the last day I write this to you. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll tell you my real name.

Knock. Knock.

I put the pencil and notebook down on my bed, groaning when I heard the knock. I shoved on my slippers walking to the door. Probably some nightwatch or Reeve’s company trying to get me to order more with all the money I don’t have. Either way, they’d end up with my door thrown in their face.

“What do you need this late after dinner?”

He just stood there, staring at me. His hands were in his pockets too, but I could see them twitching, not knowing what to say. I took one good look at his figure, up and down, and then went to slam the door.

“Wait!” His hand caught it, pushing the door back a little bit so I could see his face still.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want anything else. I already put in my order for this month.” My tone was harsher than I expected it to be.

“Eva-” I raised my voice.

“I said I already ordered!” Still, he wouldn’t let me close the door, and I turned my face away from him. Did I feel abandoned? Yes. Was it partly my own fault? Also, yes. This is why I turned away from him, because I didn’t want to face those emotions when all these other ones are building up.

“Eva, I need to come in.” His hand was still flat on the door, making it impossible for me to close it on him. Even if I didn’t want him to come inside, he was going to push his way in. I just walked away from the open door, leaving him to close it as he came in. Still, I had my back turned towards him as I stood in the center of the living room between the two couches.

“Eva, we need to talk.” I crossed my arms, looking over my shoulder slightly to see his face. It shouldn’t look so out of place to have him stand here.

“Say what you need to say then get out.” I cursed myself for letting him hear how shaking my voice was. He knew I was holding in tears.

“Eva, just stop thi-”

“Stop what?” He sighed, just like Ben did this morning, but it was deeper. He was getting ready to yell. I flinched on impact.

“Stop acting like you’re fine!” The silence hung after he yelled. That’s when he knew I was gone. Just like how I have an instinct around Ben, I have one around Jonas as well. When he fights, I fight back. That’s how it’s always been. Now, I was just standing there letting him do this. That’s how drained I was. Yet, I wasn’t drained enough to not try and hurt him back. To expel my emotions in some other way than crying.

“Stop acting like you care.” He laughed after that. Three times.

“Oh, Eva, you know I’m the person who cares the most.” His tone was calm, not sarcastic or dripping with anger like mine was. It made me feel worse.

“It only took you four months.”

“Well, you waited six months for him so I though-” I turned around sharply, my eyes probably wild as I started over at him.

“Leave.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Okay, I’m sorry, that one just slipped out.” My glare was serious. If he was here to talk about Levi, he was going to exit.

“I’m not here to talk to you about your relationship and I know you don’t want my apology. I’m here because I promised you something a long time ago.” That made me intrigued. I don’t remember promising him anything.

“Which is?” He smiled lightly, finally having my attention. I wouldn’t have kicked him out. I would have let him talk either way.

“When we first went to secondary school, that first day, do you remember what happened?”

“I kicked the boy in the side and got reprimanded, yes.”

“And you saved me from getting beat up by the older kids.” Jonas had always gotten into fights from primary to the beginning of secondary. I don’t know if it was because his face looked punchable, but he would always attract upperclassmen boys who wanted to kick him off some sort of high horse they thought he was on. I always felt like I had to help him too, no matter the situation, even if we were probably the smallest kids and would end up in the headmasters office. Still, I didn’t see the relevance of him bringing this up and he could tell he was ringing no bells.

“That day, do you remember what happened that made you kick the boy’s head?” My eyes widened. Oh. We were thinking of two different days. The day he was referring too was…

“I remember yes,” my voice had gotten softer and all the anger had left it. That day had been shoved into the back of my memory for years. This also let Jonas know he was getting to his point.

“You told me that you never wanted to be that person again. The person who said that you wanted to kick the boy’s head until his blood painted your shoes.” You shivered when he repeated your words. You did say that, but after as you were standing outside the headmaster’s office while Ben played your caretaker.

Mr. Flynn said it happened to all of his kids. Once they reach puberty, something in them snaps and the trauma comes flooding back through. He hoped that with the right care, it would never happen to me, and he thought it didn’t, because that was the day I started confining in Ben. At first, I would steal things from the booths or even money from the register, but I would horde them in a box under my bed. I wanted control over the things I had. Ben said he started that way too. Next, I would hurt things smaller than me, giving back the world the pain I suffered. It was a power dynamic. I finally had power over something. It made me understand why older girls would kick my ribs in the Underground alleyways. Finally, months of these behaviors culminated into that day.

He was kicking Jonas on the ground, like the people in the Underground, and the two other boys on his side watched. I ran over, yelling at them with my fists as tight as they would go. I was still small from malnourishment, but I knew how to fight from years of doing it. It was all fine and normal, only throwing insults back and forth, until he called me an Underground rat. They knew where I lived and who my caretaker was. That’s when it all came flooding back. I didn’t want to hurt small things anymore, I wanted to kill that boy who was hurting Jonas and making me feel the way he did. Ben said that it was a form of atonement for the times I was beat up in the Underground and couldn’t do anything. My body atoned for those periods of weakness by taking it all out on this one boy a grade above me.

I can remember the words I spat at him and his friends. I’ll kick you till your blood paints my shoes. I’ll show you who you call an Underground rat. This is the Underground! Are you happy now? Isn’t this what you wanted?! Stop yelling for help, it isn’t coming! It took Jonas and the two other friends to hold me back, as well as a teacher seeing from outside his window. The only saving grace was that no student saw it happen as they had caught Jonas in a corner. Therefore, when those three boys went to their class and said something, no one believed him. I was too small and never spoke. Ben came, took one look at my dilated eyes, and knew right away what happened. The instant he looked at me, the guilt came flooding through. I realized what I did to that boy. I realized what was happening in these past few months. While the headmaster was threatening to throw me out, I cried probably for the first time in front of Jonas.

I made him promise.

“You made me promise that if you were ever starting to go back to how you were in the Underground, that I’d have to stop you before it was too late, and here I am.” I deflated when he said that, because I knew it was completely true. Recollecting the feelings I felt back then, way back then, it felt exactly like now. I felt hopeless, alone, lost. The only difference was that I was waiting for someone to come back and take those emotions away.

“Jonas,” maybe it was a plea for him to stop talking. If he kept going, I’d break.

“You’re going back, Eva. I heard what happened with the Garrison Captain. Even if he deserved it, it’s not like you to break someone’s nose. That coupled with the fact that everyone in Trost is coming up to ask me why you look like you’re always in pain… Eva, I’m still not over what we talked about before, but that doesn’t matter when you’re spiraling back into the girl from the Underground who lets no one care for her. Who only lets one person care for her and when they’re gone she shuts down completely.” I clenched my fists again, feeling exactly like the girl in the school corner that day, but now instead of anger, I was about to collapse.

“What’s wrong? Why do you feel like this? Is it all because of him?” His voice was soft, like it used to be. Those nights when he would comfort me from a nightmare came back into my mind. He would always know the right things to say to make me feel better. He would say the things that didn’t make me feel like I was that helpless girl back in the Underground who had to kill to stay alive. Would that make me feel better now?

“I…” I took a deep breath, trying to give myself a chance. A chance to speak. A chance to feel something other than sadness.

“I…” I looked up at him again, his eyes pleading for me to continue. This was exactly like before. I was afraid to share what I was thinking, knowing how awful it was, just for it to culminate and me trying to kill a boy. I was afraid. I wanted Levi to come back. If he was back, I wouldn’t be afraid of what might happen if he doesn’t come back.

“It’s because of him.” I felt weak when I said that, and it didn’t help that my legs felt like they were about to collapse. Jonas saw this. He saw how I was about to fall over from something and he came over quickly, sitting me down on the couch while he sat on top of the coffee table. His hand was on top of my knee. For once, I wasn’t shying away from human contact. The human contact that I needed because I was reverting back. Yes, I needed Jonas right now. I regretted letting him stay away for so long. Again, I was being selfish. So selfish. What did he think about this contact?

“It’s fine to feel like this about someone you love, Eva.” I was hurting Jonas now, not just me. This is why I didn’t want to share my emotions in the first place. I was burdening him because he had to comfort me about someone he didn’t like. About someone he wanted to be. The fight we had was coming back in my head too. I put my head in my hands, trying to push it back. I was on overdrive.

“Eva, what’s wrong?” His voice stayed soft, regardless of how I was acting. Yet, his eyes were gaining intensity as I seemed to be getting worse.

“Jonas, I’m hurting you.” His grip tightened on my knee just a little bit.

“No you aren’t, Eva. Right now, I’m trying to make sure my best friend is okay. You’re hurting.” With that, I took my hands off of my head and looked up at the ceiling. He called me his best friend. Like before. Best friend. How had I gone months without having Jonas to rely on like I used to? Maybe that was the difference this time. Before when Levi was gone, I confided in Jonas. I told him if I was sad. He knew when I woke up in tears to some nightmare. Now, I had forcibly removed myself from him and from everyone else. I had no one to turn to. Is that why this time hurt so much more?

“I miss him, Jonas, and I want him back. I’m frustrated that the government made him do this, but on the other hand I don’t care about the refugees. I want him to come back. I’m a horrible person. I made bread for them. I handed them soup and talked to them like they were friends. Now here I am, not caring about them, not even one bit. I felt sad when I read what was happening, but was I sad for them, or was I sad that we as a society have gotten to the point that we have to sacrifice thousands of people to survive?” He didn’t move from his seat on the table like he normally would, but as soon as I got that out, it felt a little better. I didn’t mind the small tears that fell on my face, and he just nodded in agreement with what I said. It was just like before.

“I think that’s normal to do when you love someone. You don’t care about the others around them, you care just about them. It’s also good that you recognize your thinking is bad. It would be worse if you felt like that and had no remorse.”

“I think about it sometimes. What you said. I sit up at night and stare at the wall, thinking about in five years, will I be in the exact same spot? Can I wait that long for him? That makes me feel awful too. All he does is fight to protect us, and I’m being selfish. I’m so selfish.” He shook his head and I lowered my head to look at him.

“Eva, you know what you’re feeling is all normal, right? You love him, but can you keep hurting yourself like this for the sake of love? Sorry, I know I told you I wasn’t going to talk about your relationship.” I just shrugged at him and leaned forward to rest my head in my hands again. I wiped off some tears too. It was a miracle I wasn’t sobbing at this point, but maybe before I was sobbing because I had no one to say all of this to.

“Are you saying that still hoping I’ll break up with him and come to you?” I wanted him to say it. Just because he was coming to talk to me as my friend doesn’t mean he was thinking that when standing outside of my door, gaining the courage to knock.

“Right now, I’m thinking about what will make you not feel horrible. Am I considering the possibility of what you said? Yes, but I’ve had four-ish months to work through my feelings.” I nodded, not wanting to push him further.

“Is that all you’ve been feeling this whole time?”

“I have nightmares of him dying. I wake up and my heart is racing, I’m crying, but I know he isn’t dead. Still, it’s scary to see that in front of me every night. I don’t think I’ve slept more than three hours in a night since he left. Then, I tell myself throughout the day to not think about it and serve the customers, but I can’t help it. I’ve started picking at my hands again, even with the lotion. It’s anxiety, I know it is. I’m anxious about his condition, and then I get anxious when I think I’m starting to think about him again because it makes me anxious. It’s a vicious cycle. I only allow myself to think about it completely at night before I go to bed. That’s probably why I have such horrible nightmares about it too.”

“And I wasn’t here, too.” I just nodded, knowing that I’d have to draw that boundary with him once I asked him to stay tonight. He probably came here hoping for it too. I’d have him sleep on the couch like he always does, but I won’t allow him to come in my room.

“I couldn’t tell Ben because… I don’t know, I just felt if I told him things about the refugee’s he’d judge me. I care about them and how many of them make it back, but I care more about Levi and his well being. If only Levi came back, just one person, I’d be happy. It’d be such a smack in the face to the refugee kids and families, but I’d walk around Trost happy. I can’t believe I can say that, especially when I just fed and gave clothing to three refugee kids whose families probably went to fight the titans.” I groaned and lifted my legs up on the couch so I could put my head in between my knees.

“He’s just worried about you, Eva. That’s all. He tells me everyday too, but when he came back today and told me what you said to him, that’s when I knew I had to come here and keep my promise. You told him that you weren’t going to tell him. Not now and not with you. He was just afraid that something awful happened like before.”

“Something awful did happen.” Jonas just nodded, agreeing again with me. He probably thought Levi was the awful thing.

“Thank you for telling me. Thank you for letting me in. Like before. We’re going to go back to before. If not for myself, for you. You need people around you, Eva. It hurts me seeing you walk around Trost with absolutely no life in your eyes. I couldn’t look at you at dinner because I couldn’t face the fact that… It took me four months to realize that my feelings don’t matter when you’re dying inside. If anyone was being selfish, it was me. It took this much for me to realize that, and I apologize.” That made me feel some form of warmth in my heart. For the first time in months. His apology, gaining my friend back, it made me feel something other than sadness. That’s what made the tears flow even heavier, but my head was between my knees so he couldn’t see it. I’d finally started to feel again. It was an indication that I wasn’t reverting back to my inhuman ways. I just nodded and accepted his apology.

“C-can you stay? Tonight?” This made his smile grow even wider. It was just like before. Of course, there would be rules and lines that weren’t able to be crossed now, but I knew he deemed it worth it. I did too.

“Yeah, just give me a better blanket than last time.” His lighthearted voice made me feel a little better. Maybe tonight, I would cry only a little bit for Levi.

“If… I-If I have nightmares, I’ll just - yeah, I’ll just come out here?” It shouldn’t have been a suggestion, but even so he agreed to it, knowing why I said that. I also remembered Levi’s reaction to when I told him what Jonas did to comfort me. It did cross a line from friend to something else in Levi and Jonas’ eyes. It made sense too. We weren’t twelve and the room in my bed that was once there for Jonas had been taken up, or well, will be taken up soon by Levi. I couldn’t let someone else take his spot that easily.

I stood up to go to sleep, knowing that’s what my body wanted. My body also wanted to leave Jonas before I started really crying. It was only a few minutes until the emotion of all the words I said came too. It was always delayed. I’d write my log entry and it would be five minutes until I’d cry. I’d read Levi’s letters over and over again and then a few minutes later, the tears would fall and dampen the paper. I knew the same would happen here, too.

“Goodnight, Jonas.” He smiled up at me again from the couch, having the heavier blanket this time.

“Night, Ev. This feels right, like it should be. Just don’t snore, yeah?” I wasn’t ready to smile at people yet, so I just nodded. That made his smile drop too. It was going to take more than a vague heart-to-heart for me to feel okay again.

“Eva, I know I wasn’t going to say stuff like this bu-” I closed my eyes and cut him off.

“Just say it. Don’t hide things anymore, that’s what got us in this mess.”

“Is it worth being with him if every time he’s away, you fall into a hole so deep you can’t pull yourself out? Is the love worth the pain?” That one hurt and the delayed tears were making their way up. I felt ashamed to close the door without giving him some type of reassuring answer. He knew I was going to cry. The walls were thin and he heard it. He would always hear it. That made me feel worse. I took one step forward and then took that same one back.

Jonas came tonight. Just now. I felt like I had to add that in for you so you didn’t find it annoying when he was back when you come back. I realized that this time was worse because I shut myself out from everyone else. Before, those six months, he was there. No matter how much you might hate it, he’s someone I can talk to. I can freely share my emotions when you’re not there. Do you have someone like that too? Hange? Erwin? I hope you do, because I’ve realized I can’t do this alone. Don’t worry, he’s on the couch and I told him not to come in here either. I have to keep this spot warm for you. If you come back tomorrow, you have to hold me to sleep. No exceptions.

Chapter Fourteen →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x oc #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x you #levi attack on titan #levi aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x oc #aot x reader #Captain Levi #Levi Heichou #levi headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #snk levi

36 notes · View notes

ask-the-riders · 3 years

Text

Liar, Liar

Another flashback sorta thing that I decided to write as a way to explore some different relationship dynamics :P

There's some recently introduced characters (Cobalt and Diamondback), one you already know and love (Othni), and an older one that I decided to revive (Valence), because why not

I'm gonna include some trigger warnings for a little blood, super light gore (if you wanna even call it that), some violence, and implied past abuse

"Does she know, Val?"

Valence ran a hand over his skull and let out a deep sigh, his magenta swirled eye lights constricted in fear as he paced around his living room. Avoiding looking at his companion as much as possible, he sputtered, "I-I don't think so. I wasn't being careless again, I swear!" Leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, the demon arched a single brow, "For our sake, I hope you're telling the truth." He paused, vanishing into thin air and making the skeleton yelp and nearly stumble backwards as he reappeared, blocking his path. Backing Valence into a corner and making sure all possible escape routes were blocked, the demon leaned closer, his vibrant blue eyes becoming brighter as he lowered his voice, "For your sake, I hope you're telling me the truth. If you're lying to me again, I'll find out."

The skeleton stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, his breathing momentarily coming to a halt. Remembering the last time the demon had caught him telling a lie, he nodded, hoping to convey that he understood. Feeling satisfied, the demon hummed, taking a step back as he continued watching his host. It was a while ago that the two of them had made that contract, and while they did occasionally bicker, they were normally on the same wavelength with one another. Val's gaze flickered back toward his kitchen, and as he lowered it to the tile floor, he took in the red liquid that had begun pooling in the spaces between the individual tiles. Part of an arm laid on the floor in the middle of the puddle, and a shape resembling a handprint stained his shirt, the bright crimson a stark contrast against the cream colored fabric. He had another mess to clean up now, and this time, he hadn't even been the one that'd made it.

Turning his back to the demon, he let out a deep breath and slipped into the kitchen, squatting in front of the sink and opening a set of wooden drawers, digging through various cleaning supplies. His companion quietly followed him, completely uncaring as he stepped in the pool of blood and crossed the kitchen, leaving behind a short trail of footprints. Seeing that Othni was, once again, trying to aggravate him, Val frowned, his brow bones becoming knit, "Do you mind? I'm trying to clean here." The demon stole a glance in his direction, a wide, almost manic smile slowly stretching across his face and putting his unnaturally sharp teeth on display, "Oh, I'm not in your way, am I? How rude of me."

Val let out a soft, irritated growl in response, and Othni snorted in amusement, shaking his head. As Val returned to trying to ignore him, he dragged his clawed fingers over the surface of the kitchen table, leaving deep scratches in the wood. Hearing the sound, the skeleton finally shifted his attention back to Othni, immediately scowling as he took notice of the damage that was being done to his table. Careful not to step in the blood, he gave Othni a light shove and hissed, "Stop it, Othni. Can't you see that this is pointless? We made that deal in order to help each other, and you decide to damage my belongings because I'm not paying attention to you?" Othni arched an eyebrow again, quietly daring the skeleton to keep talking. With his mind clouded by anger and frustration, Val did just that, practically sneering at Othni, "You're no better than a spoiled child, I swear."

An image flickered in Othni's mind of a middle aged human with dark, curly locks, scowling at him and shouting words that he couldn't quite make out. As the human lifted a hand and prepared to strike him, Othni's locks of hair that resembled the rounded ears of a big cat laid back flat against his head and he was on Val in an instant, one hand immediately seeking out his neck vertebrae. Feeling himself be lifted up off of the ground and slammed into a wall hard enough to cause a small crack to form in the back of his head, Valence let out a pained and startled yelp, instinctively trying to free himself from Othni's grip. The demon's eyes burned into him as he moved closer, only inches away from Val's face as he growled lowly, "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, monster. If you even so much as think about speaking to me like that again, I'll-"

He was cut off as someone knocked on his front door and called out, "Hey Bandersnatch, are you in there?" Almost as quickly as he'd lifted Val up off of the floor, the demon set him down again and released his neck. His expression had completely shifted, no longer holding even a trace of anger, and he offered another sharp toothed grin to Val, tilting his head and murmuring, "Answer it, Valence. Go see what he wants." The skeleton hesitated, and then upon seeing that Othni had become docile again, he darted to a coat rack, nearly tearing a jacket off of it's peg and tugging it on, zipping it up just enough to hide the handprint that stained his shirt. The demon continued watching him, slinking back into the shadows as Valence made a beeline for the front door and answered it.

Making a face at the other male skeleton that stared back at him, he cleared his throat, "Oh. Hello there, Cobalt. How can I help you?" The skeleton in question eyed him for a moment, "Where were you a couple nights ago, at about this time?" Val blinked in confusion, "...I was here, preparing a dish for Banquet. Why do you care about my whereabouts all of a sudden?" Cobalt's gaze hardened and he stuffed a hand into one of his pockets, "No, you weren't. Try again." Val stared at him, clearly at a loss, "Would you just speak plainly, please? I have a lot on my mind and the last thing I want to do is play this stupid guessing game with you." The shorter of the two continued to watch him, his expression turning suspicious, "Fine. According to Glo, she bumped into you at the store. Said you had a big bag of cat food in your arms, which is odd, even for you. Considering that you don't have any cats, and all."

Valence was frozen for a moment, having been caught off guard. Processing what the other had just said, he regarded him with clear disbelief, "So you think I'm lying about where I was? How do you know Glo wasn't the one lying? Don't tell me that you believe every word that leaves her mouth." Cobalt was unphased, pressing on just as confidently as before, "I take everything she says with a grain of salt. When she does lie, it's usually in a joking manner over something small and unimportant. Seeing you at the store would be a little too random for her to lie about, I think. You, however..." The guard paused, leaning a bit closer and inhaling deeply, "You could lie through your teeth, right here and now, simply for the hell of it. And then there's that disgusting stench you bring everywhere with you."

The taller skeleton furrowed his brow bones, "Since you're so keen on sniffing me like some kind of dog, tell me, Cobalt. What stench do I have, hm? These clothes just came out of the dryer, and I took a shower as soon as I got home a little while ago." Cobalt frowned, narrowing his sockets at the other monster, "You reek of death... To be a little more specific, in case you don't understand that, there's always the faint scent of human blood wafting off of you. Sometimes when you start acting even weirder than normal, there's this gross, rotten fruit kind of smell there, too. Care to explain why you smell like blood?" Valence raised a single brow bone, "I stopped by that new meat place in town and picked up some beef. The butcher was a human, so maybe he cut himself or something while he was working." The guard scowled at him, his tone gaining a much sharper edge than before, "Wrong again. That's a monster shop, run only by monsters, not by humans. And also, cow blood is completely different from human blood. I've smelled both before, and they're really easy to tell apart."

Valence unconsciously took a step back, his gaze darkening as he smirked, his own tone becoming malicious, "Because you've killed countless humans in the war, I know. Did you keep track of how many potentially innocent lives you took, or were you running solely off of mindless bloodlust?" Cobalt was momentarily taken aback, glancing away from Val, "...If it was up to me, I wouldn't have killed any of them. That's not the kind of guy I am." Valence shook his head, choosing to mock the soldier, "Oh, I know. The big bad, evil princess of darkness made you do it, didn't she? How truly awful of her. Does Chimera know what you've done?" Upon hearing his friend's name, Cobalt squared his shoulders and made a sound in confirmation, "Yeah, she knows. I make it a point not to keep secrets from her."

The taller skeleton reached out, his grin condescending as he patted Cobalt's head and cooed, "Awe, how thoughtful of you. I'm glad you're so open with her!" Cobalt growled and slapped his hand away, glaring up at him. As the scent of rotting fruit began to waft out of the house, he hissed, "Listen, Val. You might've gone on a few dates with her, and yeah, she likes you, but I want you to stay away from her. I want you to stay away, and I want you gone." Valence smirked again, "And what'll you do if I stay? Are you going to run that blade of yours through my body and kill me like you did to those humans?" Cobalt faltered, and when words failed him, he summoned his sword and drew it, trying to maintain at least the appearance of being confident, "If that's what it takes to keep you away from Chimera, then yeah, I will. Something about you is off, and every time you're around, all the red flags immediately go up. I don't trust you, not even a little bit. I wouldn't trust you to take care of another person, let alone Chimera. She deserves so much better than lying, manipulative, scheming bastards like you."

Another unseen person made a sound in agreement, "For once, I believe you're right. She does deserve better." Val jerked in surprise, momentarily freezing as a set of glowing green eyes peered at him from the shadows under a tree that sat in his yard. As the demon in the shadows presented himself, he crossed his arms over his chest, calmly approaching the two skeletons. As he drew nearer and nearer, Cobalt made a face, noticing the way the scent of rotting fruit began to rapidly fade away. Recognizing the demon almost immediately, Val scoffed, "Oh, please. The social reject is trying to tell me to stay away from Chimera now, too? Listen, buddy. This has nothing to do with you. It'd be in your best interest if you minded your own business." Diamondback tilted his head, "On the contrary, this has everything to do with me. You can either be a good little brat and get lost, or I'll have to teach you how to listen better. Which will it be?" Valence let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eye lights, "I'm not going anywhere, ok Gramps? This is my house, and this is where I live. Nothing is gonna change that. Not when I've already settled in so well." Without warning, Diamondback warped through the space between them, backing Val further into his house.

As Val tried to slam his front door shut, one of the demon's hands caught it and he hummed, "Please don't make this difficult. I'm really not in the mood to be doing this right now." Struggling with the door and quickly noticing how much stronger the demon was than him, Valence panicked and snapped, "Then why bother?! Just go home already!" Diamondback's body warped beneath the door easily in the form of a shadow, and before Val had any time to process what was happening, a hand gripped the front of his shirt, forcibly dragging him closer. Making sure to expose his fangs as he spoke, Diamondback hissed, "I don't appreciate you taking that tone with me, Valence. Bark one more order at me, and I'll be taking your jaw. Now, you already heard me when I told you to leave, correct?"

The skeleton nodded, and Diamondback continued, "Good. I have another thing I'd like you to do for me, if you'd be so kind." Val nodded his head, his voice much softer than he would've liked, "Y-Yeah, sure. What is it?" Diamondback's bored, slightly annoyed expression shifted, a knowing look in his eyes as he offered Val a small smirk, flashing his fangs at him again, "Tell Othni that he's not very good at hiding. Even if I can't see him, I can smell him, and he smells like shit."

#writing #tw blood #tw light gore #tw mild violence #tw implied abuse #diamondback.exe #othni.exe #cobalt.exe #valence bandersnatch #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au

14 notes · View notes

capri-ramblings · 4 years

Text

Idk if anyone still remembers this but I actually forgot I finished chapter 3 about a week ago and didn't even posted it 🙂 still kinda confusing I think? But I promise, It'll come together soon 😤💖

[ R a p t u r e d ]

Chapter Three

The walls encasing your freedom began to simmer your frustration, and when a spiral staircase immerged from the wooden floorboards right across the room, your hands reflexively balled into fists.

Though when an unfamiliar face greeted you, they uncurled and from where you sat on the chaise beside your only window, your figure hunched over to pull your knees closer to your body. You'd been reacting so defensively lately, it almost felt natural now.

"Did they send you up to finally get rid of me?" Your words were harsh, a deep grating rage lacing each enunciation you spat out and yet the girl seemed unfazed as her lips curled into a small smile.

"I don't think they're that merciful, but Prince Leona has stated multiple times he'd rather you be dead."

"Who are you then?"

"An ally" She answered then rather hastily added, "If you'd allow it."

You scoffed,bitter and dry you almost sounded gruff and nasally.

"Like I allowed to be imprisoned and kept like an animal?"

The girl's expression softened and she gave what seemed to be an understanding nod before she placed both hands behind her back and stood poised before you.

"Boe" She said, "My name is Boe. As in the kind you'd use to hunt with but with an 'E' at the end because my nan felt it was creative." She sounded pleasant, to be honest,she looked decent as well, like a very familiar face you'd seen somewhere and yet nowhere at the same time. She wore her hair in two loose twin braids,her simple beige coloured tunic and short khakis gave her overall soft, feminine looks a rather boyish touch. And when she smiled it was genuinely given.

Despite yourself, Boe's appearance had you feeling a little less hostile and perhaps even a bit more hopeful.

"I made them an offer" You told her and again she nodded her head.

"To kill your brother in exchange for your freedom. Why?"

"Isn't that what they wanted? That bastard killed their beast and the only reason I'm here is because he's traded me off for his glory."

Boe seemed surprised at how you caught onto the situation at hand but you could see how calculative her eyes were. She may have looked pleasant but you weren't foolish enough to trust her, and if she knew your captives then chances are she wasn't just some typical servant running errands. They sent her up to you to talk, which meant they trusted her. And they didn't look like the trusting type.

"He and I aren't related by blood" You told her, scornfully. "It doesn't take much to piece up my being here, and I'll tell you now that he's not coming to save me. Not when he has every village folk singing his glory and the King welcoming him in his halls."

You sounded so dejected, Boe practically felt the heat of rage circulating through the room, but she also sensed sorrow. A sort of grief from the way you hunched yourself over. You've been through a lot, she could see that much.

"Tell me, did you ever believe the story your land has? It's history with the Faefolk and magic?"

You knew little. Simply enough to have your mind wander, but every child was like that, and when it was time to face the world and grow up, the stories you used to cling to before sleeping became just that; Stories.

So, you told Boe you didn't. You told her you knew the land has always been lavish, that it had always been easy to farm and make produce because it's forests were endless and green. It was because it was placed right in the centre of a growing land, wasn't it? Magic felt too foreign to have been a part of it all.

But then she told you of the story of a man planting a seed given to him by a generous Fae, and that the seed grew into a tree and another and another, until it formed a forest so lush and rich with life, people came to the land as a place of salvation. She told you that the Fae was the Mother Goddess Gaia and that she had made a pact with the humans who stayed in her grounds. They were allowed to grow and live as they wanted as long as her generosity was remembered. Thus the human built shrine after shrine in her name, and the land never once withered. Until weeks after your brother slayed the beast.

You sat there facing her,baffled and refused to believe in such a tale so easily, told yourself that no such thing could be possible...

Yet, the tower that kept you had nothing but a single window and a door that only seemed to appear when called. You remember how you tried climbing down through the window and how your makeshift rope snapped and you thought you'd fall to your death but instead you stayed in the air. Frozen.

As your hardened gaze looked to Boe and the faint light of the sun peeked through the window and into the room, you noticed the slight point of her ears and how in that specific lighting her features looked ethereal,as if she was carved out from a completely different mold.

You've seen those features before. A long,long time ago. The brief memory tucked behind the grains of your mind.

You must've laughed because Boe's expression shifted into confusion, and you ran your hands through your hair as a slight colour flickered to life in your eyes.

"You must think I've gone crazy. Wanting to kill my own brother but I've never seen him as family, and I'm sure he feels the same. It's the only thing we have in common."

"You'd really kill him for your freedom?" Boe asked, almost quietly.

You lifted your gaze,heavy and dark but driven with determination.

"Wouldn't you? It sounds selfish and maybe it is but hasn't he done the same to me? Ever since mother died, I was left under his care which meant he'd been shackled to me against his will and now I'm here and he's drinking in the castle." Your voice shifted, breathless and worn. You wanted to stand, to show to her that you weren't as weak as your captives had force you to be. That you meant what you said.

"I don't care about being kind and understanding anymore. I want to be released. I want to take back what I've lost and if that means killing Cyril and appeasing your Princes, so be it."

***

"You could be their Champion" Boe said as she stared you up and down,her gaze flickering with something you couldn't quite put a finger on. But she smiled when her eyes landed on your face, and a slight shade of pink dusted your cheeks. Though you felt it was because she had been nothing but open in her discussion and all you ever did was scowl and kept your distance.

And perhaps,you couldn't really be blamed for any of it given your own situation, but maybe it wasn't too harmful to act a bit more cooperative...

"A champion?" You repeated the words with your brows furrowed and lips down-curled.

Boe nodded her head.

"Faes often keep champions in order to settle certain affairs,like a representative or a tribute on their part without having to physically attend said affairs themselves, and unlike most dealings, this one has the exceptional perk of not being entirely enslaved by the Fae you serve under"

"...You mean if I agreed to being their... Champion? I wouldn't owe them anything?"

You know the tales of giving your thanks to the Gentry, and how such unfortunate humans fell to the mercy of the cunning creatures. A slight shiver ran up the length of your arm, but you fought the urge to look disgruntled, and simply crossed your arms.

Boe's smile widened a fraction.

"Yes, and I can't tell you why such a thing is possible in the first place, not because I don't want to but because I also do not know the reason behind it. It's said that this pact Faes have created with humans is a rare thing and a ritual they hold with great respect. If you so desire to kill your brother and gain your freedom, being the Princes' Champion is perhaps the best and only way."

"But how can I trust them to hold onto their end of the bargain? I might not have full belief in all your fae nonsense, but I know that whatever you are, your kind are known to be cunning and slippery!"

You felt like jabbing an accusing finger to her chest then,but you bit back the venom on your tongue and swallowed your carousing temper from erupting. Anger did no good in discussions after all. You learned that from years living with your step brother.

Despite it all however,Boe didn't seem to mind your frustration or hostility. In fact, she remained informative and calm, you began understanding why she had been sent up in the first place.

Unlike the Princes themselves, Boe didn't have any intimidation oozing from her demeanor. She came as a neutral party, neither to nurse nor make you submit.

Perhaps her words were the most trustworthy you'd have here.

Perhaps being a Champion was your only way out.

104 notes · View notes

animatedarchives · 4 years

Text

PARADISE

— 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

author’s note: hi everyone! this is a little something for the birthday girl @imagine-your-universe 🥳 kayla i was so touched when you came into my inbox and told me that you loved how i wrote chuuya 🥺😭 thank you for all your love and support bb i love you so much and i hope you like this hehe happy birthday 🥰❤️

genre: lots and lots of fluff 🥰

warnings: none

word count: 1.5k words

Your hair whipped around your face and the fierce wind pricked at your eyes as you pressed your face into Chuuya’s back, hugging him closer to you.

“You okay?” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good!” you shouted back, trying to make your voice heard over the roaring wind.

Chuuya revved his motorcycle and leaned forward. “We’re almost there, hold on tight, okay?”

You nodded against his back, the roughness of his leather jacket rubbing against your skin. The motorcycle lurched forward and you clung to Chuuya’s torso, holding on for dear life.

Eventually, you felt him slow down to a cruise and pried one eye open, not even remembering when you had squeezed them shut. The scenery rolled by seamlessly, and your eyes shone brightly as you admired the view. The ocean was glimmering in the distance, the bright yellow sun just barely kissing the surface of the water. The salty smell of the sea filled your nostrils as it blew in your direction, greeting you cordially. The usually white sand was now a light yellow, courtesy of the setting sun as it bathed the beach in a warm glow. You wondered if Chuuya would stop here, if this was the secret surprise destination he kept going on about.

“Chuu, where are we going?” you asked, the tiniest hint of disappointment in your voice as you rode past the end of the beach. What a shame. You would’ve loved to enjoy the view with your man but evidently, he had something else in mind. He chuckled and you could feel the vibration under your delicate fingers as you held onto him for security.

“I already told you, darling. I’m not going to ruin your birthday surprise,” he said. You let out a small whine and pouted even though you knew he couldn’t see you. With one hand steadying the bike, he took the other off the handle and moved it across his chest until it found yours. He gently peeled your fingers away from his body and held your hand in his. His thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand before he brought it up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. He suddenly perked up and slowed the bike to a stop, signalling you had reached the end of your journey. He dismounted his motorcycle with practiced ease, then proceeded to help you off as well, never once letting go of your hand.

You looked around at the unfamiliar area, trying to gain your bearings. The beach was no longer in sight, and soft grains of sand were now replaced with hard, uneven ground. Right in front of you lay a cluster of many trees, the thicket so dense you were unable to see through to the other side.

“Are you ready?” came his voice from beside you. You turned to him, a look of uncertainty in your eyes. You had no idea where you were, and it was completely deserted, save for the two of you. His sharp eyes saw the worry that was etched into your face and smiled at you reassuringly.

“You’ll love it, baby. I promise. Just trust me.”

His words were gentle but firm, solid with promise. Of course you trusted him. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t trust him with. So you nodded your head and he slipped behind you, one hand holding your own and the other reaching up to cover your eyes. His hands were cold, as usual, but his touch was soothing and you relaxed your body, entrusting yourself wholly to him.

You began your short walk through the woods, which seemed long considering you couldn’t see where you were going. Chuuya guided you every step of the way, both with his strong hands and his encouraging words. Eventually, you came to a stop and you relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Okay. You ready baby?” he asked. You could hear the smile in his voice as he tried to contain his excitement. His eagerness rubbed off on you and grinned as you nodded, eager to see what he had in store for you. “Okay, one, two, three.”

His hand removed itself from your eyes and you gasped as he revealed the most beautiful sight you had ever seen. You were standing in the middle of a small clearing at the end of a cliff. The woods were just behind you and it seemed like when you emerged from it, you had stepped into a completely different world. The cliff overlooked the same glittering ocean you were admiring at the beach, but this time it was definitely far more breathtaking. You didn’t even realise it but in the time it took for you to get here, the sun had started to set. Now it hung low in the auburn sky, dipping just below the horizon and bathing everything in a vibrant orange. The breeze was gentle and cool, balancing perfectly with the warmth of the radiant sun.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out, eyes sparkling as you appreciated Mother Nature’s handiwork. You were soaking it all in, wishing you could live in this picturesque haven forever.

“Yeah,” he said, snaking his arm around your waist, causing you to look up and meet his loving gaze. “But it doesn’t compare to you, my love.” Your cheeks heated up and you looked away bashfully. He laughed at your adorable shyness, and then looked out at the sea and sighed.

“I used to come here a lot last time. It was my secret paradise, and I’ve always felt the most at peace when I’m here.” He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “It always calms me down.”

You looked up at him curiously and he turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his.

“I wanted to bring you here today, not just to share the amazing view with you, but also to celebrate something very special.”

You smiled. He meant your birthday, of course. This was his present.

“Today marks your birthday. But it also marks the day I’ve found a new paradise. A place I cherish more than this and one that I’ve fallen completely in love with,” he says. Chuuya was usually very confident, so you didn’t understand why you heard the slightest shake in his voice as he was talking. However, those thoughts were pushed aside as he turned towards you, the softness in his gaze a stark contrast to the piercing blue of his eyes.

“You are my new paradise, darling. And this time, I never want to leave.”

Before you could even register what he said, he was sinking down onto one knee, and taking out a small velvet box from the inner pocket of his leather jacket. You gasped and covered your mouth, trying to muffle your sobs as he revealed a gorgeous diamond ring.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“YES!!! YES YES YES!!” you wailed as you threw yourself towards him, sobbing into his shoulder as he rubbed your back comfortingly and chuckled. He wrapped his arms around your body and hugged you tightly before sighing in relief. Finally, you pulled away, mascara running freely down your face as you wiped your eyes with your fingers.

“My makeup is ruined, isn’t it?” you let out a small laugh, wondering how much of a mess you looked in front of him right now. He brought his hand up and cupped the side of your face, using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“Makeup or not, you’ll always be beautiful to me.”

You pouted and felt your emotions welling up again. You sucked in a breath as you tried to hold them back with all your might. How was it that you were able to get such a perfect man? You would never understand, but you were eternally grateful. He held his palm out and you tenderly placed your hand in his, stretching your fingers out as he slid the ring onto your finger.

“Did you like your present, darling?” he asked, like there was any way you wouldn’t.

“Of course I did, Chuu. This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you,” you said, sincerity behind every word. You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his soft lips, not wanting to get your tears and snot all over him. But he didn’t appreciate the loss of contact and frankly, couldn’t care less about whether you were a mess or not. He loved you so deeply that minute details like that didn’t even matter to him. You were perfect to him, whether you felt like it or not.

Hungry for your affection, he leaned forward to kiss you again, this time harder, longer. You sighed into the kiss and brought your hand up to his hair, entangling your fingers in his burnt-orange locks. He broke the kiss and leaned his head against yours, both of your eyes closed as you quietly gasped for air.

“Happy birthday, darling,” was the only thing he said before he captured your lips with his once more.

#chuuya imagines #chuuya headcanons #chuuya fluff #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya bsd #chuuya bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x reader

100 notes · View notes

followyoursecretsmutblog · 4 years

Text

the lies you tell III.

Summary: You and Henry dated for 2 very happy years, when it all came crumbling down. Protection was the only thing on your mind. And now, 3 years later, on a lunch with a common friend, you are hit with the lies you told.

A/N: A short confessional.

the lies you tell. the lies you tell II.

“Ho-how did you get in here? How do you know where I lived?” My voice squeaks out, my heart still pounding in my chest.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

I close my eyes, hoping that when I open them again, he would disappear.

He does not. He is very much still there.

“That isn’t important right now.” He replies, sitting up straight.

“The hell it isn’t! Up until 10 hours ago, you didn’t even know I was here.” I take a step forward, my anger increasing with his lack of response. “How did you find out where I live?” I ask again.

“What? Are you getting frustrated because I am not giving you what you want?” He asks, his head tilts to the side. “I remember being that frustrated, asking the same question over and over again. Only to never get a proper answer.”

“That isn’t the same thing! This is about my safety!”

Henry stands, “And that was about my heart. My safety.” We stand there, staring at each other. “Tell me about how I was the lesser evil.” He says softly.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Nothing has changed. I told you the truth.” I wrap my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together.

“And I don’t believe that for one minute. Remember Ava, I know you better then anyone.”

I hesitate, searching for something other than this man to look at. “I’m not proud of what I did.”

“What you ‘did’? Did you cheat on me?” Henry’s voice cracks.

My eyes snap to his, “No, never. I meant I wasn’t proud in breaking up with you. It was the hardest thing I could have ever done.”

“Tell me why. I want to understand what I did wrong.” His pleading tone is not lost on me, it kills me to hear him.

“I will tell you, but understand one thing. I thought I was doing the right thing.” I whisper, looking down at my feet, trying to gain the courage to tell the story for the first time. I never told anyone what happened. It was my dirty little secret.

He sits back down, watching me as I sit on a chair across from him. Our knees grazing each other’s. I take a deep breath, picking my head up and meeting his gaze.

His eyes so blue, so clear, I could get lost in them.

I miss waking up to those eyes.

“It began slowly, the first grain of doubt being planted after Superman was released. When the world finally saw you as the attractive leading man that could have anyone he wanted, this object of sex appeal and box office smashes. This man came up to me, told me I was hurting your image. At the time, I was just your friend, tagging along with you so you would always know you had my support.” I stop, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I brushed it off, thinking nothing of it. Nothing happened between the two of us at the time, men and women can be friends all the time. Besides, you were honest in your interviews about being single.

“But a few years later, you asked me out. Made me the happiest girl in the world. Giving me something I didn’t know I even wanted.” I smile at the memory, how he went from being completely calm and collected in front of the cameras, but turning into a stuttering mess when telling me how he felt. “God, you were the biggest dork when you asked me out, I couldn’t help but say yes.” Giggles escape me, Henry smiles softly at the memory as well.

“Yeah, not my crowning moment.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “Go on.”

“Well, it happened again when you were working on Mission Impossible and working on re-shoots for Justice League. The man came back, visiting me while I was at your house watching Kal. He told me that I was ruining you. That if we continued to date, no one would hire you, not for a leading role, not for any role. The famous Henry Cavill dating a lowly girl from a broken family, from a backwoods town.” I stop, turning my head to the side, I watch the moon. “‘How could someone like Henry love someone like you? You are a nobody. You aren’t talented, you aren’t even pretty. You are just clinging onto him, waiting for him to sink along with you.’ He spoke as if he knew something I didn’t, making me think for a moment that you didn’t love me.

“I was crushed, but I knew it wasn’t true. I knew you loved me. But the man continued, ignoring the fact that I would never do anything to hurt you or your reputation, which it why no one ever knew we were dating. I didn’t want you to get hate because of me.” I wrap my arms around my middle, turning back and looking at him. “I finally got the courage to ask him who he was, why he was trying to push me away from you. He laughed at me. It was such a sickening sound, I can still hear it. He said he was part of your agency, someone that could control if you could be a lead, or to get a part with no credit.

“I knew how much your job meant to you. This man says he could completely destroy everything you worked so hard for. I didn’t want to stand in the way. You belong with someone like your beautiful co-stars, not me.” Tears start spilling from my eyes, the pain of that day still ringing in my body. “I didn’t deserve you. I loved you for years before you asked me out. And every time I looked to my future, you were always there with me, either as my best friend, or something else. Something stronger.”

His eyes widen, lips parting slightly at my confession.

Did I really just insinuate us being married?

“The man kept coming round, every time I was left alone. Threatening me. Threatening you. The last straw was about a week before that horrible night, that day I went with you to a quick meeting. While I was sitting in the waiting room, he walked by, stopped, and glared at me. He said that after the movie is released, he was going to run your name through the mud, insuring that you never get a proper role again.” I stop, putting my hand over my mouth, trying to stop the sobs from coming out. Closing my eyes, the tears fall, not knowing if they would ever stop.

I hear shifting, and then two thuds, a hand spreading my legs open, a body coming between my legs. Opening my eyes, I see Henry’s face so close to mine, him on his knees, sadness in his eyes. “Ava...” he says as he holds me.

I shake my head, “I’m not finished.” He sits back on his heels, one hand caressing my leg, nodding for me to continue. “For years I heard you talk about what you wanted, how badly you wanted to be an actor, how you loved what you did. I couldn’t take that away. I couldn’t let my selfishness for you stand in the way of your happiness.” I reach a hand toward him, my fingertips grazing his jaw. “You always looked your best when you were happy. I knew you would be able to find someone new. Someone better. All I had to do was break my heart.

“It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I did it so you could continue to do what you loved. I would have never asked you to pick me over your job, because I knew what you would say. “

“I would pick you.” He says, leaning his face into my palm, his eyes watching me.

“Exactly. But I know I’m not worth that.” I put my other hand on the other side of his face, making him look at me straight on. “You mean the world to me, and these last few years, I have been able to watch you do so many amazing things, building a very thirsty fanbase, a name for yourself, a legacy. You have done so much, and I am so proud.” I smile, the tears finally stop falling. “My heart is so full, watching you do what you love. Knowing that there is nothing you can do that would make me not love you.

“I fell in love with you because of your heart. Loving you was the easiest thing I have ever done, you make it so simple. I know what I said hurt, and you obviously know it was a lie, but please, don’t hate me for wanting you to live your dream.” I place my forehead on his, brushing my nose against his. Closing my eyes, I feel the warmth of him. How he smells the same, but now a bit more expensive.

“Ava. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I would have done something. I would have fired him.” He stops, his breath coming out jagged, “I would have done anything to keep you with me.”

“I know, but I tried to protect you. And I couldn’t even do that right.” His hands slide up my body, resting on my shoulders and neck, holding me in place.

“But that wasn’t your cross to bear alone. A relationship means that there are two people. We are a team.”

He tilts his head forward, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. My blood runs hot, my body turning to mush. I arch my body toward him, crushing my chest to his, tangling my fingers in his hair.

I pull away, trying to catch my breath. I watch as he opens his eyes, a hand wiping my tears away.

“I love you, Ava. I never stopped. There is no one I rather have on my team.” He whispers, brushing his nose against mine.

“I love you, too, Henry.”

The door to my apartment opens, “Honey, I’m home!” Chris sings, shutting the door.

“Fuck off, Evans. I’m still mad you gave Henry the key to my place.” I say, folding the last of my laundry.

“Oh, yeah! How did that go?” He flops on the couch, a pile of towels falling to the floor. “Oops.”

“Nothing happened. We talked. He left.” I violently refold a towel.

“Nothing happened? Like at all?” An eyebrow goes up, watching me.

“We can’t be together, Chris.”

“So, you are telling me you are still single?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“I don’t trust you,”

“As you shouldn’t. But come on, take a shower and get pretty. I made a blind date for you.”

“YOU WHAT!?” I scream, my eyes nearly popping out of my head.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #your local human disaster here #yoursecretsmutblog

178 notes · View notes

mangacat201 · 3 years

Note

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

So, this is probably a lot longer than this ask is meant for (certainly more than one paragraph, lol) but I tried take out a shorter piece and it just doesn't work without full context, sorry not sorry.

This section is a prologue of sorts to a longer fic called Spectrum and writing it marks me finding my mature, distinct authorial voice consciously for the first time, which is why it holds such a dear spot in my heart.

Work Text:

The sand burns bright and hot under his naked feet, but he pays it no mind. The heat makes the air around him shiver with distorted images. Spectres of light that might lead travellers astray, flit by in the baking sun. While they are looking for the relief of an oasis their hope turns into ash every time they climb a dune.

They have led a traveller into peril indeed, as he can see some distance away. A figure on a camel, both animal and man slow and weak in their movements, hours, maybe minutes away from folding up and succumbing to exhaustion and thirst – soon to be a rattle of bleached bones ready to be covered by the ever wandering dunes of the desert.

He turns and watches the man for a time, considering his fate for a moment; the impact of his life, lost or gained, laid out before him in the blink of an eye. It is not a great destiny; an ordinary life, unremarkable and brief. Neither his descendants, spread out across the continents, nor he himself are going to cause a particular ripple in history with either their existence or obliteration.

He turns his back to the man, looking out towards the massive mountain range he’s been heading for and curls his toes in the sand for a moment, feeling the small grains trickle past his skin. Then he takes the next step down the side of the dune. His feet sink into the malleable sand, leaving tracks that will shift and smooth out with the next gust of wind. Still, he feels the vibrations travel down deeper into the earth, to places that are no longer hot and bone-dry, but humid and porous. Drops of water gather in answer to the clarion call from up above and slip through the minuscule spaces between the ground stone to rise to the surface. By the time he has reached the valley of the dune, his steps do no longer sink into the shifting sands, but leave distinct imprints in the packed desert soil, moisture gathering in the places where his heels leave the deepest tread.

In the lowest dip of the valley, a small reservoir has already formed when he crests the dune on the other side and he feels the seeds in the ground, having lain dry and dormant among the kernels of sand, waiting to soak up the water greedily. They will sprout and grow soon enough, forming a splendid haven around the spring for a time, but in the immediate future, there is the traveller clawing his way up on foot from the other side, no longer willing to burden his beast, lest it topple and crush him.

He looks back then, watching from afar as the traveller spots the pathetic little puddle that will save his life by chance. Watches him scramble down with an air of disbelief about him until he gets close enough to the shallow pool to bury his face in the water completely, coming up with little clumps of mud sticking to his eye lashes and beard, his tongue tasting the sweet water on his chapped lips.

He stays for a few more moments, observing the traveller cup the water in his hands to drink, drag down the reins of the mount to take his place and smiles. Then he turns once again towards the mountains behind which lies the sprawling city of Damghan, the place he actually has in his sights.

The sun has sunk and risen by the time he reaches the ridge, climbing the mountainside with ease. He lets his eyes wander over the fertile valley to the left, more and more signs of life and humanity appearing on the horizon, until he can see the entire bustling city from the top of the range. On the ground, it is a sprawling marketplace, made rich by the turnover of the Silk Road, merchants with their camel trains passing through almost daily on their way to trade with the Christian kingdoms in the West. It is filled with rowdy, random movement, sounds and smells challenging the senses, but from up above, there is direction to it, the flow of people in the streets like blood rushing through the veins of the settlement. The roofs are square and bare or covered in tents and rugs, colours washed out by the blistering sun.

He looks upon one of the beating hearts of humanity, a place wrested from the desert in daily struggle while his spirit wanders down into the cracks, beneath even the stone, were the face of the earth isn’t hard and unyielding, but ever changing and fluid, where masses beyond understanding meet and fight in an eternally slow dance. There is a rift here, two giants meeting with a clash hundreds of years in the making. Less a battle than a brush of shoulders between two unstoppable forces acting as the immovable object towards each other. He has been watching out for this moment, waiting for this time and place to meet, but for some reason he cannot wrench his gaze away from humanity, even as he steps on a flint in front of him, grinding it into the dust, sending another call down, way down, where the moment has come.

It takes a while for the giants’ brush to travel back up again, first fine tremors that the people down in the valley cannot feel, even if they were looking out for it. The animals sense it of course, the horses skittish and disobedient all of a sudden, unsettling their masters who cannot fathom what agitates their beasts until the tremor turns into a tremble at their feet, travelling up into buildings, shaking dust from the roofs. By the time they realize what is coming, it is too late, rifts are opening up that rip streets apart and swallow houses, even though to the giants, they are no more than what a split fault line of dry skin on your fingertip would be to you. He watches fear and anger and terror sweep the settlement, shaking the humans in their spirit as the quake shakes their bodies before they are consumed. Finally the cracks have travelled all the way back up to where he stands, the seemingly unmoving mountain no match for the echoes of the force way down below. It splits, stone and gravel giving way, slipping down into the valley with a thunderous roar. And in the blink of an eye, the earth has buried hundreds of thousands of its creatures in terrible silence. Standing above, his toes dug into the new-born edge of the precipice, this time, his smile has teeth.

#asks and replies #fanfic #my writing #poetic prose

2 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Married at first sight AU part 4

A/N: I’m so sorry it took me so long to add another chapter! I’m thinking about applying for a writing course in college so i would really appreciate any honest opinion about my writing!

Summary: It’s time for Eddie’s part of the home-stays. Unfortunately, this also means that they’ll have to visit Sonia.

warning: there’s one sex joke in this (it’s Richie) and Sonia is in this so mental manipulation

@impalagurl67 @juhavs @werenotinhawkinsanymore (sorry if you guys didn’t want to be tagged anymore)

About five weeks into the experiment, Eddie is ready to call it quits. Not because Richie and him aren’t working as a couple, they are, really well actually, but because Eddie made a grave miscalculation.

He has long abandoned his own promise to leave the program as soon as possible, instead cherishing every date he and Richie go on that is paid by the production, spending more money on one date than Eddie has done in all his previous get-togethers ever.

It helps that for now they are in their own little world, away from every stress point of the daily life, in a place where they only have to focus on each other. He’s not ready yet to have to go back to work, or to move away from Richie, with him living in New York, and Richie residing in Chicago. Richie made him fall hard, and now he doesn’t think he ever wants to go to a house without him, for that house would not be a home.

As per consensus, Richie and him agreed on staying right until the week before the homestay at Eddie’s to avoid having to go and live with Sonia. The thing is, neither of them really kept track of what week they were on, for days in the same place blended together rather easily, or what the next would bring, not while they were having so much fun.

There’s no one else to blame but his own stupidity for that error, since they days before the commitment ceremony, they went to Richie’s homestay. It was only natural that Eddie’s followed. When that was revealed, Eddie and Richie looked at each other in shock, both of them cursing their obliviousness and forgetfulness, but by then, it was too late.

Suggesting that they forfeit anyway, Richie tried to help as best he could, but Eddie refused to do that, claiming it would portray them as a bad couple, and he wasn’t up for that; Richie deserved better than that. Not to mention his career. If they were to call it quits now, an explanation was obligatory, and that might result in reputation damage. For someone who worked in the business Richie did, that was not permissible.

That’s why they find themselves in a plane with destination New York, Eddie gripping Richie’s arm tightly, praying to whoever was up there to help them make it through the week. One might argue that Eddie isn’t forced to go see his mother, it’s only the home-stay, which means go to your own home, and Eddie wouldn’t have gone to her, if she didn’t live with him.

The last time they were on the plane, only days prior to this, their moods had been significantly better, Eddie full of anxious excitement at the prospect of meeting the people he had heard so much about.

Maggie and Wentworth Tozier lived in a fairly small house, only 30 minutes away from where their son lived, with a medium sized garden filled with all sorts of flowers and herbs. It may not have been as big as Eddie’s house was growing up, nonetheless it exhibited a warmth and serenity, the flowers and spices creating scents that lingered every time they entered the backyard, a welcome aroma that greeted them.

Maggie loved to bake, roping Richie and Eddie into baking one with her and bonding, while Wentworth set the table, and showed them his collection of Richie’s comedy specials, disks all neatly combined in one folder.

Their support in everything their son did was heartwarming, but it also pushed Eddie out of his comfort zone, made him feel out of place. He didn’t have that sort of support system, and he was clueless on how to act around parents who did.

Richie assured him that his parents adored him, and Eddie believed him, mostly since he was completely amoured by them too, and he hoped that they deemed him good enough for their son.

Right after dropping by his parents, the two of them went to Richie’s home. His apartment was the same size as Eddie’s in New York, the only difference being that Eddie’s was much neater, not filled with so much unnecessary stuff and memories. There were a lot of pictures, most of them of Richie and his parents, and the friends he made during stand up, but also a few of a dog he once owned as a kid.

The pictures forced Eddie to think about his own apartment, bare of anything that made the place him. He only had one picture, and that was the photograph that was taken when he was thirteen with his mom coiling him in her grasp, scolding when he didn’t smile bright enough for her liking.

He listened to her, as he always did, the smile more manufactured than her figurines she bought from China, but he remembers how much he longed to be in his room so he had the change to cry in peace, helpless and stuck while she controlled him like a puppet. He swore to himself that day that he’d stick up for himself, and defy her, but his rebellion only lasted a month, before he realized that it did nothing but cause her claws to stick in deeper, and stealing the little freedom he had.

He’s ashamed of himself for living with his mother, and for allowing her to wring her way back into his daily life like he needed her to be there for every decision, but it’s hard to be brave when you have no one else to fall back on. He never had a reason to fight back, but with Richie, he has found one.

His idea was to talk to his mother after the show, keeping his foot down and demanding her to move out, but since the wedding, he ignored every single call his mom made, convincing himself that he needed a little bit of extra time to gain the courage.

Because he dropped of the grid and didn’t contact her in any way, he understood that he needed to call her, at the very least to let her know Richie and him were coming.

However, Richie and him hopped on a plane first thing after a meeting with the experts, leaving him with no time at all to warm his mother about their arrival, and without a proper conversation between the two of them.

He’s certain, that as soon as Richie walks over the threshold, she’ll chew him up, and then spit him out like he’s a filthy piece of dog shit. And god damnit Eddie is sick of her being allowed to do those things without any consequences. Someone should say something about it, and that someone should be him.

The whole trip, he divides his time between prepping Richie for the monster that his mother can be if she opts for it, thankful that the cameras are nowhere in sight, and assessing every possible outcome to prevent a huge blowout from occurring.

He will address her about her behavior, just not on television broad cast, so he’ll try the whole week to appease her, without throwing Richie under the bus. That’s a slippery slope to ride on.

His husband, for five weeks already yet the word still causes him to brighten up, is animatedly practicing for his next movie roll, and cracking jokes, attempting and achieving to mollify some of Eddie’s fears away.

‘Hey Eddie Spaghetti, how much you want to bet that I can indulge this whole sandwich in one bite?’

‘If you even try, I’ll leave you on this plane all by yourself.’

‘Auch, dully noted.’

His mother may be a horrible person, but this time he won’t have to face her alone. That also is reason for concern be as that may, because even despite the fact that Eddie told Richie all about his mother, there’s a whole lot of difference between hearing about it, and seeing it in the flesh.

Though he obsesses and over analyses every possible outcome of his sudden appearance with his mother, he is taking aback by her reaction none the less. Knocking on his front door, after ensuring Richie to take everything that comes out of her mouth with a grain of salt, the sight of her tight-lipped smile emerges.

She’s wearing the same dress she wore on the day of the wedding, the door clenched in her fists, glancing at them with glare she is careful to keep hidden from everyone who is unfamiliar with her. It’s one of her specialties, to mask how much hell she’s about to bestow upon Eddie towards other people.

Eddie immediately knows that she is livid, and by the hand that falls on his lower back, he can tell Richie understands it too.

‘Come in Eddie-bear’, she invites them in, as if the flat isn’t registered in Eddie name instead of hers. Eddie allows himself one more moment of hesitation, before faltering inside.

The minute he steps in, he wants to run back out. The walls metaphorically close in on him, like he is going to buried under the concerns and scrutiny of his mother, hiding him from every real love he could ever hope to get.

It’s torture, and he fights against every instinct in him to stay put. The place has been under his name for six years, and when he first bought it, he associated the place with new beginning and freedom, causing him to happily skip home after school every day. He discovered what kind of person he is here, what his personality entails, and he despises the fact that, just like with everything else, his mother took this away too.

His knees start to get a little weak, and Eddie thinks he might pass out any second, until Richie comes up beside him, his arm thrown over his waist and allowing Eddie to lean his weight on him, all his muscles relaxing after being cramped up in fight or flight mode.

A feather-light kiss is pressed to his forehead, Richie’s body shielding him from the camera and Sonia’s havoc eyes for barely a minute, but enough for Eddie to compose himself.

‘Hi miss K, I’m Richie.’ The greeting is one that is so unlike Richie that Eddie comes close to calling the whole thing off, his heart bleeding with the need to protect and preserve everything good about the man who is goofy and kind-hearted.

‘Richard,’ Sonia allows with a curt nod, inching her body away from Richie when he tries to hug her as a salutation. He doesn’t let it get to him, Richie’s polite smile remains on his face, determined to prove to her that he is above all that pettiness that she’s displaying.

The camera man shuffles closer, presumably zooming in on Richie’s face, gauging his reaction. Her attempt to conceal her distaste is not working effectively, but that is the opposite of a problem for the tv-show.

People eat drama up, and this will be no different, except that Eddie is now the one they’ll be gossiping about behind his back. A shiver rolls over his body, annoyance prickling the back of his neck. It’s easy to forget the cameras are rolling when he’s enjoying Richie’s company, but the reality that others observe them and every move they make is under scrutiny, is infuriating.

‘Oh Eddie-kins, it’s been so long since I’ve heard of you.’

She attempts to embrace him, but he only allows if for a second, detangling them to create more space between them. A mother touch should provoke a feeling of safeness, of care and love, but Sonia’s hugs always made it feel like tiny bugs crawled their way across his body, and no amount of whipping would ever get them off of him, and he avoided them at all costs.

Try as he might, he can’t fight the need to practically fall on his knees and apologies to her, his earlier determination about standing up for himself slipping away like water between his hands. He manages to shrug in lieu of it, but only by the skin of his teeth.

‘You look so skinny,’ she adds, true to form already doing her very best to poison his mind with the ideas of him being unwell. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat too.’

She spurns Richie, failing to ask him if he needs anything, marching to the kitchen.

Eddie grabs Richie’s hand, their finger interlocking while he catches the reassuring smile Richie gives him. ‘Wanna go see my room?’

‘Oh kinky Eds, and the first time I’m visiting too? I didn’t peg you for such a guy.’

With a gentle push of expiration and an accompanied eye-roll, he drags them over to his bedroom, the only space in the apartment that holds any worthwhile to him, or at least the a box hidden under his bed does. He guesses his mother will be busy with her tea , the one that Eddie has such a distaste for he almost dry heaves every time he takes a sip of, for a little while so they have a bit of time to spare.

The bedroom door remains open so the camera crew can pile in after them, their equipment enough to block the door from his mother’s prying eyes.

He crouches down on the floor in order to grab the box, pausing to really think things through, and then takes out just the picture, the lone one that was taking of both him and his father, previous to standing up, and joining Richie on the edge of the bed.

If he wants to relationship with Richie to work, he needs to reveal everything about him, including the parts that have yet to be healed, but he rules out that conversation until they’re alone.

There were more stuff in the box that belonged to his father, but those aren’t as important s the picture.

The photo gets muffled away out of sight of the camera, saved for a time when all the production crew has gone to bed.

His intent was to show Richie around the rest of the apartment, but the tea is prepared faster that he had foreseen, so he backlogs his plans, and they move to the living room.

His mother has, gracefully, packed a third mug, which she fills to the brim with her disgusting beverage, and offers up to them.

While Eddie and Richie choose the seat next to each other, his mother sits opposite to them, the tea sloshing on the table as she swirls it. Inwardly, Eddie cringes, the need to clean it up presenting itself with such a velocity that his hands shake.

‘So Eddie, talk to your mommy. How have you been?’ Eddie is muddled over her behavior. On the one hand, she is much calmer than he expected her to be, but on the other hand, he knows better than to let his guard down around her.

‘It’s been great mom, I’m really happy that I got paired with Richie’, he remarks. He’s being intentionally vague, as to not give her any ammo to verbally attack them with.

From the moment they stepped foot into the flat, she disdains Richie, never once addressing him, and it’s starting to get on Eddie’s nerves. He almost wishes she would scream, so sheltering himself and Richie is an option, whereas now it feels like he’s waiting for the punchline to drop.

‘Oh yes, Richard.’ The malicious sneer has resumed it’s place, her eyes squinted together as she leers at Richie. Richie’s posture shift, his body ridging but his mouth still firmly shut, biting his tong. The fact that Richie refrains from any sort of humor, or talking in general, leaves Eddie unsettled and on edge. He doesn’t like it, and the absence is an experience he’ll avoid as much as possible in the future.

‘What have they been feeding you Eddie-bear? You are so skinny. It’s not good for you you know, staying away from home for so long. Are you homesick? Is that why you’re barely eating?’

Embarrassment tints Eddie’s cheeks bright red, her treatment of him not unlike that five year old, condescending in the worst way.

The penny drops, and Eddie all at once understands what her game plan is. She’s trying to manipulate the situation so that it seems like Richie isn’t a good husband or partner, both for the tv show, and for Eddie.

She must have known that demanding Eddie to come home would have only resulted in him turning his back on her even more, so she ventured to do it in a different way.

‘Eddie is perfectly fine, misses K, his abs and frankly the rest of his body can vouch enough for that.’ Richie laughs, but the joke falls flat and dies out at the hard stare he receives. Tittering awkwardly, he clears his throat.

‘He isn’t homesick either, in fact, he told me that he loved to travel, he’s fine,’ Richie defends him, their legs locking under the table, not in view of the camera’s and his mother.

‘Even so, I’m very essential to my sons life, Richard. If you even consider being part of his, I come with the territory.’

‘Eddie is perfectly cable of being by himself, he doesn’t need anyone. Are you sure that it isn’t you that needs him?’

Sonia jumps up from her seat, her lukewarm drink spilling over the top and dripping of the side. She turns pale, her whole visage drained of any color, so utterly devoid of any other emotion other than enragement.

‘Do you hear that? Do you hear the way he speaks to me?’ She screeches to the lens-man, who blinks sheepishly at her, finding her outburst rather strange., as there was barely any provocation. The man glimpses at Eddie and Richie, who remain quite, and he follows their lead.

‘Eddie, force Richard out of here, he is no longer welcome. I won’t accept someone talking ill about me.’

‘He is mom’, Eddie states, his voice trembling somewhat, although the words don’t lack conviction.

‘Excuse me?’

‘This is my home, and you’re powerless to decide who comes through those doors.’ The camera is glaring right in his face and he is tempted to push it away, which is almost the perfect outlet for the anger he’s experiencing, but he’s better than that.

‘Eddie-bear’, she chuckles uncertain. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you. You’re delicate honey, and people like him,’ she spat at Richie, ‘will derail your mind.’

Scoffing, Eddie rises from his chair as well, establishing eye contact to assert dominance.

‘He won’t. But even if someone would try, they wouldn’t succeed.’ The picture in his pocket calls his attention, and his hand wonders into the pocket to touch it for a second, drawing strength from it.

‘Not anymore.’

Sonia gapes, her mouth opening and closing, unbelieving that her sweet, innocent boy said such a thing to her.

‘We’ll talk more when I get back, me and Richie are staying in a hotel tonight.’

He denies her the chance to reply and ruin the day even more, trudging outside with as much confidence he has. Richie says something to Sonia, out of hearing shot from Eddie, before he too, falls into step beside Eddie.

‘I’m sorry that this home-stay turned out to not be such a ‘home’-stay after all,’ Eddie apologizes, using air quotes on the word home.

‘Hey, Eds it’s fine. I don’t care where am I, as long as it’s with you.’

The blush returns, now for a whole different reason.

#reddie #reddie fluff #My writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie tozier imagine #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2

30 notes · View notes

rosaetae · 4 years

Text

the chrysanthemum effect | 8.5

[this chapter is apart of the chrysanthemum effect]

☇ “Keeping your flowers, keeping your pain— it’s already everything you need to move on. How do you move on from things if you’re not willing to accept them?“

➣ pairing: taehyung x reader / jungkook x minji

➣ genre: hanahaki!au, model!taehyung, weddingplanner(ish)!au

➣ word count: 2.3k

➣ a/n: hi all! this chapter is mainly focused on jungkook’s relationship with minji being why it’s a half chapter. if you love mj x jk x annie’s storyline, then go ahead and read, but if not, i still encourage you to read their storyline lol but if ur here for kth and reader content then read the section after the last divider :)

➣ summary: the hanahaki disease has become a stigma in this world where if you had it, you are looked down upon. her flowers were white chrysanthemums and they have been for the past two years. she was in love with someone who obviously didn’t feel the same way, and this was her way of moving on— along with the people in her life who had to conform around the hanahaki disease.

Jungkook's favorite talk with Minji had to be a topic that revolved around cheese, spoken by true crackheads at the break of dawn. Minji asked about it first, wondering why there was so much cheese in the world and why there's so many different varieties and ended up, in her tired but marveled voice, making up a scenario in which two cheeses would make a new type of cheese.

It was these type of talks he had with the girl he loved so much that he grew comfortable and content all at once.

So, to walk up to Minji knowing that he is a complete stranger in her eyes and had no recognition of who he was or those early morning talks about the most frivolous things in the world was the most painful and hardest thing he had to do. Each step he took was like treading in quick sand or stepping on glass.

The person he was most comfortable and content with was a foreign soul who has yet to know he exists.

He notices as he was walking closer to her that she was looking at blue dresses.

Just as he was about to back out out of fear with his sweaty palms and racing heartbeat, Minji raises her head and their eyes lock.

In that instant, Jungkook never wanted to leave a situation so much before. Even when he couldn't hit a note in front of a thousand people on stage, that embarrassment was beyond an understatement of how he felt in that moment, eyes locking with the one person he's never resonated so much with before.

"Hello," Jungkook finally chokes out.

Minji's eyes switch from startled demeanor to a friendly, yet alarmed smile tainting her lips. "Hi," she speaks. "Can I help you?"

Jungkook realizes he didn't really think about what he would say to her. Usually he'd wrap his arms around her shoulders and surprise her, cover her eyes with his hands and whisper in her ear, sometimes scare her to gain her light yelps.

He opens his mouth before he closes it, wheels turning.

"Wait," she begins, blinking once or twice. "Jungkook?"

The feeling Jungkook felt once he heard his name roll off her tongue made him freeze. It was familiar, but foreign at the same time.

"You're joking with me. You're Jeon Jungkook, right?" She says with a growing smile. "I love your songs."

The realization hits him too fast that the feeling of that hopeful wishing plummeted so far down. The friendly look on his face must have dropped as he saw her eyebrows knit together.

"Sorry, am I dumb or you're just a really good look-a-like?"

"No," he feigns a smile. "You were right the first time."

Her eyes bulge, the pretty hues that twinkled with stars popping out. "Well," she says with a grin. "What do I have to offer for getting the Jeon Jungkook to approach me?"

He blinks. "We met at a party, but you were probably too drunk to remember me."

And just then, Minji immediately grows red, bringing her hands to cover her face. "No," she pouts. "What party?"

Jungkook, knowing her and her close friends, chooses the name Yuna, one of Minji's greatest friends. Minji, hearing the name, begins to her hide her mortified face of embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she says, voice muffled behind her palms. "You would think that I would remember if I met one of the greatest singers at a party, but if it's any luck, you look familiar?" She tries, only to cause both of them to let out a laugh. "I'm sorry. You saw me at my worst if I can't even remember you."

That makes him wince internally, knowing that he saw her at much worst and he was there for her.

And not be there at her best? Because she doesn't remember him?

"It's alright. It's nice to meet you again."

And he means that with the greatest genuineness he can elicit.

The look in her eyes when she smiles warms him nostalgically. "Yeah," she nervously giggles. "You too. Sorry you had to see drunk me. I can't even remember who I meet when I'm under the influence."

Jungkook chuckles lightheartedly. "It's alright. I was just looking for tuxes and I just saw you and... thought I'd come and say hi— see how you were doing. Obviously, better than that night."

"Oh. Oh," she stutters. "I'm doing fine, yeah... just shopping for dresses."

"Not to be nosy, but can I ask for what?"

"I have a community art showcase this Friday," she smiles proudly before she lightly gasps. "You should come! The more the merrier."

"Yeah?" He asks, taken aback by the sudden invitation.

"Yeah, of course! Unless you're busy and have something else planned, I totally get it," she nods. "You're Jeon Jungkook, you probably have a lot on your plate—"

"No, I don't," Jungkook says a bit too fast. Seeing that Minji is taken aback by his quick response, Jungkook clears his throat. "I mean... I would love to go."

"Great," Minji grins. "It'd be nice to have you there! Unless you plan to ruin it then I revoke my invitation."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Pretty sure Finn Museum is already pretty strict with who comes in and out."

"Oh?" She stumbles back. "You already know where it's at?"

Blinking in realization that Minji never once stated the venue in this conversation, he curses himself, letting out a nervous chuckle. She had her eyebrows furrowed and he can feel himself growing weary. It was an event that Minji always talked about with him— he saved the date in his brain the minute she told him it was official.

Minji was checking her e-mail while Jungkook went home early to make dinner for both of them. Jungkook remembers her scream that startled him so much that he dropped the ladle to the floor. And before he could get mad about getting scared, Minji was already in tears and running over to hug him.

They approved my art, she cried. My art is going to be showcased!

Jungkook, knowing how hard she worked for herself to get where she is now, forgot about the ladle on the floor and the soup he was boiling on the stove as he hugged her tightly and told her how proud he truly was for her. And the minute he was told about the date, he never forgot about it.

"I heard that Finn Museum is holding a 50th anniversary showcase on Friday," Jungkook covered. "I just assumed you were apart of that?"

Her lips make an 'o'. "Oh, yeah! That one."

"Then I'll be sure to be there. What time?"

"8 in the evening," she answers. "Just say my name at front and they'll let you in. Or you could honestly say your name and they'll let you in."

Jungkook, hearing the laugh that elicits from your mouth, smiles. "Wouldn't want to miss it for the world."

"Good," she laughs. "Okay, well, it was nice to meet you again, Jungkook. I guess I'll see you again on Friday?"

"Friday," he nods. "See you."

He may not be with her by her side as she achieves her best, but at least— and he takes this with a grain of salt— he gets to witness her at her best.

"How was it?" You finally ask when you meet him outside of the store, finding a seat outside one of the coffee shops. There's a smile on his face that makes you feel slightly satisfied. "You also owe me this much."

Taking the receipt from your hands, he stands in front of you. "How do you know?"

Looking up from the bags you were carrying, you purse your lips together as he stares down at you, instinctively being courteous and grabbing at the bags from you as he awaits your answer.

There was a momentary pause where you couldn't really begin as to how you know because in your head, it really was complicated.

"You had to choose between Minji and Annie, huh?"

Jungkook doesn't respond. Instead, he watches you, eyes filled with little to no expression, resulting to you to continue.

"I understand now why you did what you did. For awhile, I didn't. Mainly because I met Minji first at a club throwing up blue poppies in the toilet before I met you and Annie. And then when I met you, I was planning your wedding to a girl who loves blue poppies just as much as Minji does."

He stays silent.

"Then I went dress shopping with Annie and her dad. At first it was hard for me not to think of Annie as the sole reason for Minji facing unrequited love, but her father told me that you saved her life."

"I didn't do anything," he speaks up, but you shook your head.

"Yes, you did," you nudge him. "And it must have been a hard decision. You know, having to choose."

"It wasn't me who chose," he says. "Minji. It was Minji who chose for me."

You look up at him, arching an eyebrow.

"She knew it was going to happen," Jungkook explains. "Already suffering with the fact that we had to keep everything private and be super careful and fear every single thing we do, she knew that I would eventually fall for Annie, as well."

"And you did."

"I did," he says. "I didn't mean to, but I did."

Shrugging, you purse your lips. "You can't help with who you fall in love with."

"Yeah, isn't that the truth," he scoffs, swiping a thumb against his nose. "Minji came to me and told me it was okay to leave her. Maybe I was selfish, but I told her not to leave, but she knew I couldn't have them both. I warned her— god, I warned that she would get Hanahaki, but she still did it.

"She told me that it was alright— be with who you love and make it no secret, she said.... That I could leave her because she said that Annie doesn't deserve to suffer either. And she left. She cut me off, went off grid for awhile, and I guess she went through with the surgery."

Your heart, truly and empathetically, hurt for him.

"That was the first time I met her ever since she cut me off awhile ago. You know how hard it was to see her and recognize her in an instant but in her eyes she doesn't know who the hell I am?"

Admittedly, that was what scared you about the surgery. Knowing someone who has loved you and forgetting about them? But his stance was frustration and anger that he couldn't let out to the one person he needed to say it to. Now that person has no recollection of him.

He lets out a half-hearted laugh. "When I talked to her, she invited me to her showcase. What she didn't know was that she invited me to that back before this whole thing happened."

"At least you got invited," you suggest, but he looks at you. Rolling your eyes at him, you nudge him. "Listen, she may have lost memories of you, but realize that you can start new ones. She did all of that because she loves you, you know. She wants you to be happy with someone you love and someone that loves you."

"Is that how you feel with Taehyung?"

You look at him. "If you truly love someone, you'd want them to be happy."

Jungkook lets out a sigh. "It's hard because I do love her. Annie— she's... she is someone I wouldn't trade for the world, but I'll always love Minji from the bottom of my heart."

"You always will," you reach up to pat his shoulder, an encouraging smile on your face. "And that's ok."

"Hey," you smile at Taehyung, interlocking your arm with his when you see him standing outside your complex. At first he was taken aback by your sudden affection (even you were) but seeing that he wasn't opposed to it, you both walked to Planetarium while you clung onto his arm.

"You seem oddly happy," he notices and you laugh.

"I can't be happy that you're back?" You taunt, removing your arm from his.

"Don't do that," he says before he's taking your hand back, placing it where it was before. It makes your stomach flip. "I'm happy that I'm back, too."

"Good, you messed up my sleeping schedule just to tell me you miss me."

To that, he chuckles. "My apologies. I just wanted to express how much I missed you, but it seems like sleep is your priority."

"You were gone for like, two days."

"Two days away from you is too long," he says and truthfully, your mind is in a frenzy.

If two days from you was too long, why was he gone for two years?

"I feel like I've finally reached an understanding," you say randomly and he looks down at you with confusion before you let out a sigh. "I can see why it was complicated," you trace off, implying that he was right— sort of. "With Jungkook and Minji and Annie and all of that."

"Do you now?"

You nudge him a little, a smirk growing on his lips.

"Yeah," you narrow your eyes at him. "He had to choose between Annie and Minji," you say. "But Minji had to choose for him."

"He told you?"

"It kind of all clicked," you respond with a smile.

He lets out a light scoff, his warm breath evident against the cold and crisp air.

"I've known Minji for awhile," he says. "If there was anything I knew from her is that she would do anything for him to be happy. Even if it was to let him go when he couldn't."

"See, I think it's quite sad," you say truthfully as he nods. "Like a Shakespearian tragedy."

"How so?"

"Not everyone had a happy ending."

"I beg to differ," Taehyung says and you look up at him. "Their ending isn't just ideal."

"Do you think everyone can have a happy ending?"

He shrugs, eyes straight forward. "Depends. Do you think we have a chance at a happy ending?"

You stare straight ahead before you shrug, copying him.

"Everyone deserves one, but not everyone gets one."

145 notes · View notes

new-endings · 4 years

Text

The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Ch. 1; ao3

Chapter summary: in which Crowley learns and yearns.

“And in reality, it was probably here where Crowley fully and undeniably faced the ill-tuned music that he fell treacherously and helplessly in love with the Principality Aziraphale— who wanted nothing more than peace and was willing to marry off the prince to one unlucky and unhappy Archangel to achieve it.”

Step 2: Gather Intel:

The castle wing generously bestowed to Crowley and the rest of his Legion was lavish in its towering ceilings and ornate tapestries; pristine in its Heavenly whites and creams and the dutiful servants keeping offending grime away; and above all—it was spacious. Wide and echoing. Fit for royalty, one might say. So, it was quite understandable how it really chafed away at Crowley’s (remaining) patience (and sanity) to find Hastur and Ligur squirreled away in his quarters.

Again.

Yes, he understood that they may be his footmen, but this was also precisely why Crowley tended to “disappear” for hours (even days at a time) in his own abode in Hell’s Kingdom.

Crowley paid little heed to Ligur’s scrutinizing gaze as he approached the attached study; to do so would show weakness before his subordinates and that was a decidedly unwise thing to do given his current position.

The position being smuggling another one of Hell’s scarce literary publications for his Guide’s reading pleasure.

But it was Hastur that broke the silence with a sly grin and a meaningful look as he eyed what was in Crowley’s hands. “Another tome, Prince Crawly?”

Well. Some greeting to your Prince. Crowley shot him a scowl. “Another remark out of you and you’ll crawling back to Hell.” Nevertheless, Hastur looked nonplussed as always so Crowley shrugged; he’ll get back at him later for that. “Besides, this is payment,” he protested. More so for the Angel’s delightful company than any real progress in his princely responsibilities, but they needn’t know that bit.

“Payment to the Guide assigned to you by the Queen herself?” Ligur added with a derisive snort. “Ah yes, what a great boon to have this queer Bird in our midst.”

“A Bird in hand is worth two in a bush,” Crowley assured. Not that he would even entertain the absurd notion of replacing Aziraphale as his Guide. “Nothing wrong with a little encouragement.”

Ligur was decidedly unconvinced. “You two spent the last week traipsing about every fine eatery in this God-be-damned Kingdom. I think he’s plenty encouraged.”

“Ah, but perhaps not in the manner the Prince would like?” Hastur said with gleaming eyes.

Crowley didn’t outwardly flinch. Of course he didn’t. “He’s—” lovely to be around. “More than entertaining—”

“But not quite like the rest of your toy soldiers, eh Your Highness?” Ligur remarked with a sneering curl of his lips.

“Certainly treats him better than his own lot!” Hastur supplied with a chortle, sneaking a conspiratory smirk at the other. “Looking to nest with this particular Bird before gettin’ shackled to the old ball and chain?”

And that’s when Crowley decided he’d had enough. “Bah. No need to be so crass.” He waved the insinuation off, wishing he could do the same to the twin annoyances holding in snickers and rude gestures at his expense.

It really wouldn’t do to have them meddling in his personal affairs.

And yes, his blooming—whatever it was he had with Aziraphale—was most definitely personal.

Crowley cleared his throat. “His company aids in getting accustomed to being flocked by other Birds.” A bit of a lie, but what’s the harm in that?

Aziraphale was hardly like the others. He was an oddity, certainly, but a rarity with his unabashed enthusiasm towards his indulgences, his general love for his comforts and all matter of life around, the soft glow about him, such a stark contrast from the lurid light and air of sterility the others exuded.

But that was why Crowley liked him so much. He gave a brief hum. “Though I suppose I am curious.” And a grain of truth to really throw them off— “Why, indeed, send such a queer Bird to sort me through this whole mess.” He’d meant the question to come out—detached. Perhaps just a bit pensive. But it didn’t. “Out of literally anyone else.” It came off rather hopeful, wishful.

Apprehensive. It’s not so often that my luck happens to turn out all right. Makes a Demon all sorts of anxious, Crowley thought.

Thankfully, it seemed neither of the two picked up on it. “If he can put up with the likes of your company, why not? Besides…” Ligur eyed the tome in Crowley’s hands. “He’s certainly got you on your best behavior.”

There were several responses Crowley could have chosen. He could have denied it of course, playing deeper into the Demons’ hands at his own expense. He could prove them wrong—which in all intents and purposes would have been the more entertaining option, especially if he could pin the ensuing trouble he’d been itching to cause on to them. Or he could have played the Royal Card—remind them of exactly who they were serving: rotten branch of the Royal tree or not, Crowley was their Prince—at the cost of letting them know deep down, that perhaps yes, maybe Crowley did care a bit more for his Guide than what was probably, Demonly, comfortable.

Instead, he opted for a scoff, a one-worded rebuttal, and a suave saunter as he exited the room. “Nonsense.”

He had no remark, however, for why he took the tome with him as he headed off.

He was already late in meeting Aziraphale as it was.

Why was it that whenever one was late, it couldn’t be for a few seconds—or even a few minutes?

Some impassable obstacle just has to miraculously (or cursedly, really) manifest to snowball a small hindrance to an entire ordeal.

And that entire ordeal came in the form of a balding Bird with an insincere smile, just outside his quarters. “Prince Crowley, if I could have a moment of your time?” Crowley frowned all the while and didn’t relent his pace. “I couldn’t help but overhear, Your Grace—”

Right. The halls echoed, after all.

Crowley did his best to pay it no mind, already picking up his pace, legs widening their stride. A scan to his side and—yep. It*** was following him. Fuck. After a tick or two of silence, Crowley sighed. “Our people have long lost Her Grace—no need to address me as such.”

“Right. Of course,” it replied easily. “Sandalphon, Prince Crowley,” it greeted, though it did not offer its hand as customary for other Birds. “You have questions, I’m to understand? About the Principality Aziraphale.”

That gave Crowley pause. “Principality, you say?” His Guide? The book-hoarding, sweets-loving, sunshine-smile Aziraphale— a warrior?

Birds often didn’t give Crowley a good feeling—save Aziraphale, of course—but this one was particularly unpleasant. “Indeed, but by title alone.” Crowley didn’t like the way it seemed far too excited to share whatever it had to say: “His ranking—is…In a dubious state.”

And there it was.

Crowley gave it an unimpressed look. “Is it now.”

Unfortunately, the Bird was simply undeterred. “Oh, yes.” It nodded, almost somber. “He was an absolutely adequate warrior. Lead his own platoons during the wars past—”

“Aziraphale?”

Crowley knew he made a fatal error from the wide grin spreading across its face. It leaned in, whispering low. “He even served as Archangel Gabriel’s subordinate.”

It all suddenly clicked into place. So that’s why he’s so familiar with the Archangels.

This was…indeed quite valuable information. But even then—Crowley couldn’t see it. Aziraphale obviously didn’t want war—seemed to be wholly devoted to the cause of keeping peace between their kingdoms—at least, when Crowley wasn’t purposefully distracting him with little gifts payments and banter. He had thought that perhaps the Angel had been too soft for war; he never considered the possibility that perhaps he was softened by it instead. Still, it wouldn’t do well to have a little chinwag with someone so eager to defame his Guide. Especially with a being that knew full well his relationship with Aziraphale.

The professional one, anyways.

And Crowley had to remember to keep playing that part. “Well, it seems they brought the right person for the job, then,” Crowley responded, almost testily. He knew what the Bird was baiting him for, but Crowley wouldn’t comment on the status of Aziraphale’s title. To do so felt like a betrayal to his Guide—and to do such an incredibly thoughtless sort of thing that would no doubt place Crowley far from Aziraphale’s good graces.

Not that Sandalphon needed encouragement in the first place. “Oh agreed, Prince Crowley. It’s certainly a mutually beneficial little arrangement. Well of course, Aziraphale has everything to gain from it anyways.” This Bird was more than content to sing like a canary. It gave a wheezy chuckle. “Probably begged the Queen herself to allow him some task to prove his worth to her again.”

Crowley made a show of rolling his eyes and heaving an exasperated breath. “Are you content to prattle on about another Angel’s business to anyone who pays you mind?”

It backed off, raising its palms in an inoffensive manner. “I’m merely giving you some insight!” It gave another slimy grin. “You asked a question, after all.”

And damnit all questions were always Crowley’s favorite weakness. He gave one, hard look at the Bird before relenting, carefully keeping the uninterested façade. “All right. I’m listening.”

“Rumor has it—” It gave a cruel smile. “—that he was dishonored and stripped of his flaming sword. And no one knows why—save for the Queen and Aziraphale himself.”

There was a beat of silence before Crowley’s resolve further buckled. “A flaming sword, you say?” he asked evenly.

And how Crowley detested that wicked sheen in its eyes. “Yes. It flamed like anything.”

Again—quite a bit to take in. There were several methods and modalities available at Crowley’s disposal to respond to this influx of information. He could very well give a curt nod and leave it as is—allow the Bird to believe he ruminated the information for a moment—just a moment—before tossing it away as just a fanciful fact. He could very well thank the Bird for the interesting intel, perhaps even bait the being into telling him more—but honestly, even the offhanded thought made Crowley’s stomach churn in a way that wasn’t even remotely pleasant, so that was obviously off the table.

So, wisely, Crowley settled for a derisive snort. “Ah. Must have been impressive, especially to give such a dangerous weapon to a pacifist,” tone disbelieving, uncaring. “But if he no longer has it, then this information really serves no purpose to me. I’d be more concerned were it the case that he possessed such a weapon and used it in an untoward way against myself or my Legion.”

“Err…I suppose…” It responded cautiously, perhaps unknowing of whether or not to be affronted by the utter disregard for what it had known to be reality-shattering knowledge.

And perhaps—in a way, this information was.

But it would take a lot more than hearsay to change how Crowley felt about Aziraphale. “And you say these are—” He gave it a scrutinizing look. “Rumors, is that right?”

Sandalphon startled. “Well, they may be rumors, but—”

“All baseless drivel when it comes down to it.” Crowley huffed.

It must have known Aziraphale cared more for peace than winning an expensive, horrendous disagreement for power. It didn’t matter that in times past that the Angel was out there in the bastions and fortresses, armed and ready to lay down his life for this useless struggle.

To add a bit of insult to injury, for his Guide’s honor, Crowley added, “Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Who he is now is all that matters.

The Prince made a show of rolling his eyes when he was met with a beat of silence. “And to think I believed you to have something useful to tell me.”

And right now his Angel—his Guide—is waiting for him, waiting for Crowley. And damn it all, Crowley was really late!

“I—” it stammered.

Crowley turned, continuing his way as he gave the Bird a wave of dismissal. “That is all.”

It was quite easy to turn tail and head away from that blathering Bird and its rather rude insinuations towards Aziraphale—

But it was quite different to get away from what he’d learned. Rather, it was impossible to unlearn and unlisten to the implications. Not particularly aimed at Aziraphale, and not even the insinuation aimed at their…well.

Work relations, as it were.

Besides, it normally wouldn’t bother Crowley to hear that he was just an assignment—a woefully accepted obligation—he’s been used to that all his life. But what did bother him was that this didn’t seem like Aziraphale at all.

Granted, he’d only known his Guide for a little over a week—but Crowley prides himself in being an excellent judge of character.

Which was precisely why it seemed like this Angel was the only being he’d ever truly felt drawn to.

He didn’t know everything about the Angel, but he felt like he had one of the most important basics down: the Angel loved his comforts. He loved his fine wines and lazy afternoons, cozy reading nooks and buttery pastries. He hardly seems like the type who’d thirst for blood for his scorching, battle-ready blade. It was quite like a adding a tomato to a fruit salad: you know it’s a bloody fruit, but it doesn’t quite fit the description, nor fill the role.

The thing about these niggling thoughts, however, is that the harder one concentrates on not thinking about it, the harder it becomes to ignore. And it’s hardly Crowley’s fault—that stupid Bird brought it up—and even now, with Aziraphale regaling to him of the Archangel Gabriel’s penchant for fine clothes—the question burned at the back of his tongue. So, Crowley did the only thing a Demon could do in a conundrum such as this:

Yield to temptation.

“Say,” Crowley interjected. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

Aziraphale sputtered to a pause, a fragment of Fraisier slipping off his fork. “I—I’m sorry?”

“Yeah,” Crowley ventured, carefully casually. “Heard it flamed like anything.”

Aziraphale blinked, absorbing the words but not quite extrapolating its meaning quite yet. It’s fine. Crowley can wait.

He was prepared for the awkward silence and unrelenting tension that would no doubt follow. He was prepared for the Angel to deny it, lie with a flushed face and a nervous titter, and attempt to redirect the conversation. He was prepared for the Angel to sigh, soulful and deep, and ask who told Crowley. But Crowley, in his careless preparation to the consequences of opening this particular can of worms, forgot one, vital thing:

This was Aziraphale he was talking to. “I—I, well—uhm!” Prone to flustering. “That is…” And prone to being thrown into a prickly, nervous frenzy. “It’s—it’s hardly any of your business now!”

And prone to vehemently reprimanding Crowley about what should and should not be said in a public restaurant.

Crowley took a wary glance about them; most of the patrons and staff scurried from the Prince’s glare. He really ought to have chosen a better place to spring a question like this. “Angel—”

But it looked like Aziraphale was getting ready to leave—to flee.

And that was not something Crowley was prepared for at all.

“Angel—Angel, wait!”

But in a heartbeat or two, he’d vanished— strawberries and cream left unfinished.

Crowley supposed Aziraphale couldn’t be that mad. He didn’t fly off into the sunset leaving Crowley as just a sulking mote of dust behind him, after all. No, instead he simply chose to ignore Crowley as the prince helplessly, and hopelessly, trailed after him like an offending lover, ready to swallow his pride after a tiff gone awry while the Angel stomped all the way back to the castle.

“Slow down, you bloody Bird,” Crowley groaned and miraculously—

He did. He stopped right in his tracks and sat down on the stone bench overlooking the pond.

Crowley sagged against the garden bench, finding that while he was content to call out after the Guide, he wasn’t quite ready to lay out everything he felt like he should say just yet.

The prince cast his gaze to the scenery instead. The pond before them mirrored the vibrant pinks and indigos painting across the sky; the bustle of the castle and its inhabitants sounded so far away from behind the towering walls, encasing the sliver of paradise with silence and solitude.

Aziraphale had led them there, Crowley realized with a start, with the intention of talking without interruption and witnesses.

Beside him Aziraphale scoffed. “Really, Prince Crowley, to approach someone with such a personal inquiry in such a public area—”

“For the last time, Angel. Just call me Crowley.” He looked over to Aziraphale, seeing the mounting trepidation on his face and stiffness on his shoulders. But he was trying to keep the conversation open and he wasn’t running—that was better than what Crowley could hope for. “And better my asking than the other Birds,” Crowley countered. “Squawking behind your back, telling tall tales and spreading rumors—”

A pause. There went that nervous habit again. “Oh. So, you’ve heard from—one of them.” Soft, plump hands, tugging and straightening the whites and creams of his robes; delicate fingers and manicured nails, not meant to brandish swords and spill blood.

Hands Crowley wanted to take in his own, hold them still and feel those fingers curl and intertwine with his instead. “Not by my choice, mind you.” But Crowley didn’t. “The balding one—bit of a slimy fellow—”

“Sandalphon.”

“Yes, that one.” Aziraphale was avoiding his gaze, resolutely staring off into the still waters before them. Crowley swallowed and thought that at the very least—the Angel deserved to hear the truth. “Started raving about your title, or well lack thereof, and—” Quietly, gently, though it was easy enough for Crowley to say. “I didn’t believe it.” Because it was true. “Not the important bits anyways.”

There was a quick, darting look towards him and Crowley uneasily shuffled closer, facing the Angel fully.

“I know you’re a Principality—that seems to be common knowledge amongst the other Birds. But I don’t think you were stripped of your honor like that.” That response garnered him a questioning look. “At least—not for the reasons anyone else could think of.”

“What…what makes you so say that?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley hated them all for making is Guide sound so unsure.

He gave a chagrined smile. “Do I really have to say it?” He blew a noisy sigh, hoping to ease the ascending tension with petulant humor. “You’re an Angel.” No, not like them. You’re better than the others. “I don’t think it’s actually possible for you to do the wrong thing.”

Whatever reaction Crowley was hoping for with a response like that, he certainly wasn’t prepared for the heartbreaking disbelief and awe in those Angel eyes.

“Crowley…” Neither was he prepared for that something in the quiet, tender way Aziraphale gasped his name—

—that made Crowley want to dive straight into the lake to douse the turbulent flood of warmth that sank its fangs straight into his chest, squeezing the bleeding organ with its lovely thorns.

Crowley coughed, suddenly finding his throat dry and chest pounding. “Well, my theory was that you probably didn’t even want a war in the first place—and there’s really nothing wrong with that.” Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit oh FUCK THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING— “After all this war business is utter rubbish, I tell you. About damn time we made actual efforts in forming a proper treaty. Not that I completely agree with the modality they’ve chosen to enact in the name of armistice, but—”

“I GAVE IT AWAY!”

The thorns squeezed tighter. Crowley could barely let out a wheezing, “You…what?”

Aziraphale looked absolutely wretched.

And Crowley wanted to kiss that expression right off his beautiful face.

“The sword. The one given to me by the Queen.” The Angel raised his arm to gesticulate something before giving up halfway, letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, what was I supposed to do? Our platoon did our best to minimize the damage, but even then, that battle absolutely decimated that village! There could have been all sorts of terrifying beasts out there, not to mention marauders and the like with their defenses gone!”

“…What?” was Crowley’s ever-intelligent reply.

Aziraphale fortunately took that as a Please, do go on, I’m ever-so-intrigued by this turn of conversation and not at all finding myself at the brink of despair at the horrific realization of my own stupid emotions.

“So I thought, ‘Well, they need it a lot more than I do right now’ and I told the village leader Take it, don’t bother to thank me!” He rubbed his hands distractedly, frantic anxiety bleeding into his voice. “And—and, the magic on it should only protect them, it shouldn’t be used to start any—”

“You…gave your sword away. The sword given to you by Her.” Crowley’s heart was hammering now, driving the pinprick points deeper, yet it did little to calm the stone-drop of cold dread at the pit of his stomach. “To protect some vulnerable people? Angel…” That’s wonderful. You’re wonderful, you foolish, lovely git. “Well, where is it now?”

“In…” The Angel floundered, gaze darting to his lap again. “In a quaint village. Hopefully nicely repaired and thriving by now.”

“Well, go get it then!” Yes, please, let’s go—run, run far, far away— “Put an end to the rumors—stick it to Sandalphon’s grubby little face—”

--far enough that maybe then these feelings won’t reach you.

“It’s…not so easy,” Aziraphale answered apprehensively.

“Come now, Angel. I’ll even come with you—like one of our day trips!” Crowley himself was already warming to the idea. It was like a little adventure. Like seeking a lost treasure—a real one! Clearing the Angel’s name, off to conquer the Nosy Gossips of Heaven’s domains, to slay the evils of shit-talking— Prince Crowley and Principality Aziraphale—

Crowley and Aziraphale--

And maybe Crowley did want that. Maybe he did want to go off with Aziraphale, forget this Prince and Guide rubbish for just a while, escape to a small pocket in time where titles and responsibilities didn’t exist. Just them two, and a grand, old adventure laid out for them both. There were surely lots of places to see. It’s a great big world out there, just out or reach from the two borders of their respective kingdoms. The Other Side, where the maps ended but the skies continued on.

And where other lines blurred completely.

But. Baby steps. Crowley reigned himself in again, despite the frenzied beating in his chest. “I mean, you’ve been wanting to show off Heaven’s charming little towns—”

“Erm…” Aziraphale was starting to look panicked again. “That’s the thing.” He gave an anxious little smile. “It’s…not in Heaven.”

Normally, Crowley possessed a fine and rich vocabulary borne of years under strict tutelage all because his mum shacked up with the King of Hell and spawned him in the process. “What?” Today, all those lessons flew out his brain—

“It’s…a bit farther than that.” Aziraphale held his gaze to Crowley’s. “A bit further South, rather.”

—missed the pond completely and smacked straight into the white stones of the garden walls. “Angel…”

“Yes, okay?” Somehow, Aziraphale managed to look even more miserable—and dramatic, by far. “The village—my sword—It’s in Hell’s domain.” He gave an imploring and helpless look to the stone-frozen Crowley. “But shhh please, promise you’ll keep this a secret?” And just like that, he took Crowley’s hands in his own, asking, beseeching, “Just between us?”

Crowley would have confessed to all the Divines in the High Heavens that this was the moment Crowley fell—horrifically, dreadfully, disastrously, and absolutely— in love with Aziraphale. There, underneath the peaking moon and glitter of stars. In a garden, after Aziraphale shared with him his greatest burden—that this Angel had sacrificed his loyalty for love and protection for a people he did not know or understand, for a belief he didn’t know he had in himself.

“Yeah…” Crowley squea—no, no, that was not a squeak damn you. He hastily cleared his throat, covering those soft hands with his own. “Yeah, no worries there.” He met Aziraphale worried eyes evenly and vowed: “I promise. You have my word, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale slipped his hand out of from Crowley’s and Crowley’s stupid brain had the fucking audacity to think the appropriate response to that was to instinctively whine at the loss of contact.

Aziraphale, luckily, did not take heed of this offense. “Thank you…” he breathed, shoulders sagging, as he held his hand to his chest. Crowley wondered if the Angel’s heart was beating just as obnoxiously as his. “And…thank you, for. Well...” If the Angel’s heart mirrored his own. “It’s nice to finally get that off my conscience, really.” The Angel gave a tired laugh, one that didn’t really meet his eyes, one that sank and fell flat on itself. “I always did worry if that was the best course.”

“Like I said, Angel.” His hand came forward, floundering before finding its way to the slope of Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I’m not sure if it’s actually possible for you to the wrong thing.” You’re too good for that.

Too good for me, a dark, traitorous thought echoed back.

Crowley would decree that it was here, beneath starlight and Aziraphale’s sunbeam smile that Crowley would embark on the path of rewriting his own stars for a change. He knew that he was endangering his entire Kingdom and the Kingdom of Heaven by choosing Aziraphale, despite his royal obligations— but he’s a risk-taker with a lot of imagination. He doesn’t know how to persuade two kingdoms to accepting his choice—if that could even become a possibility at all.

And if not…

Maybe running off wouldn’t be such a bad option.

Running off—together.

But—baby steps. Firstly, he must start with getting Aziraphale to accept his courtship.

Speaking of which… “Oh! This is for—you.” He reached into his pocket, wriggling the tome out from where it had been jabbing him while he ran after the flighty Bird. “I brought you a little something.”

There was that smile again. “Crowley, this is—oh my…” The one that likely damned him from the start. “It’s lovely—”

Crowley attempted a scoff, though it likely sounded like a sputter. “It’s a rather sad and dreary one, written over a millennium ago by a rather sad and dreary fellow. I thought it’d be right up your alley.” He watched carefully from the corner of his eye, seeking any discomfort from Aziraphale, any sign that the gift was not to his liking, not to his standards, not up to par with what he deserved. “Always preferred the funny ones myself.”

“I’m honored.” But he could find none. Only an excited smile and eyes of far-off skies poring over the text; just the look of an Angel utterly enamored at the prospect of reading a new tale, exploring another world within the confines of word and mind.

And in reality, it was probably here where Crowley fully and undeniably faced the ill-tuned music that he fell treacherously and helplessly in love—this moment where the evidence stared back at him so boldly in his face, that he realized the extent of these rather inconvenient feelings he had towards the Principality Aziraphale—the Principality who wanted nothing more than peace and was willing to marry off the prince to one unlucky and unhappy Archangel to achieve it.

Because damn it he wanted Aziraphale to look at him like that.

And upon accepting that foolish thought as truth, it all came crashing down in that very instant.

Fuck. I love him.

------------------

Fun fact: Sandalphon’s pronouns in the book and script are “it/its.”

Thank you for reading~

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #top crowley #bottom aziraphale

32 notes · View notes

gustafsnightangel · 4 years

Text

On Pointe Ch 3

His mind never drifted far from her, even on the weekends he had away from the studio. He spent his time off practicing what Everly had taught him and meditation to gain some control over his panic attacks. Once he had the stress under control the rest of it calmed down.

At night he’d curl up by the fire reading and wondered what she would be doing after a full day at rehearsal. In the quiet he thought about her and his feelings for her. True he barely knew the woman, but there was something, like their souls knew one another on sight. It was rare to find that in someone in your lifetime.

For the following few weeks they went through the five positions over and over again until they were as fluid as they were going to get in the time that they had. For the last thirty minutes she decided to introduce him to some of the moves for out on the floor. He’d been taking note of her earlier warmups for rehearsal and knew them fairly well by sight.

“Now there’s a reason I taught you the five feet and hand positions in that order. Your feet and arms are going to need to be in those positions when I lean on you for support.” She instructed as he stood across from him. She had to crane her neck to look at him, she often caught him already looking at her, those eyes slowly undressing her.

“This is where I can break your toes.” She said seriously. “We are going to take this really slow. If our feet aren’t in the correct position when I go en pointe I can end up on top of your foot or toe and we don’t want that.” He nodded in agreement although his belly tightened at the thought of her against him.

“Most of the time I’ll lean on your chest, shoulders, or an outstretched arm. Sometimes your back though you’ll be kneeling. Basic rule of thumb for you is if I’m leaning on your chest you’re in second or fourth, fifth for shoulders, first or second for arms.”

“It gets more complicated than that but for what we’re doing let’s keep it as simple as possible.”

“Go into second.” She instructed and he did so with more ease than the first day.

“When I go en point, both toes, I’ll do so here.” She pointed with her toe to a spot dead center of his foot span. “Then I’ll lean into you. Then come down. You’re not going to move for the moment ok?” He nodded and had to remember to breathe.

“It feels very different standing like that with someone en pointe and having someone lean against you. This arm out.” She positioned his arm correctly. “This arm stays on the barre no matter what.” He nodded again. She was making this as safe as she could.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready as I can be.” He said nervously and watched her go en pointe exactly where she said she would.

She placed a hand lightly on his chest and used the other to hook a finger under his chin forcing him to look eyes front. He did so with a muttered curse and a smirk. Caught looking down at that tiny woman that undid his world. He straightened his spine and relaxed his shoulders at her instruction.

He felt his entire weight shift, automatically compensating as she leaned in. It was very different. He felt as if he wanted to take a step back but didn’t. She eased back up and stood normally.

“What did you feel?” She asked.

The overwhelming urge to hold you in my arms he answered in his head.

“I wanted to step back to brace.” His focus snapped back and she nodded.

“Good, that’s what you’re supposed to feel. Core strength is everything. When you feel like taking a step and know you shouldn’t, engage your core.”

They ran through a bunch of different leans and each time he could feel his weight shift. He did as she had instructed and engaged his core. That made it easier. For once he was glad he’d kept in shape.

His mind went to her body pressed against him and he had to purposefully focus on what he was doing. The smell of her hair, her breathing tickling his neck, the touch of those slender fingers on his chest, hell it was intoxicating and he wanted more of her, so much more.

“This one will be a little different. One hand on your chest, one toe instead of two on the floor into a penche. Same thing as last time for you but it’ll feel slightly different. Ready.”

He nodded and she went en point on her own, closed the distance to him, then dipped low into the penche, her ankle was almost level with his head.

Her hand slipped on his shirt as she leaned in and she felt herself start to fall. She tried to grip his shirt but fell forward no longer able to keep her balance, her elbow slamming into his shoulder and her weight bearing ankle rolled at the shift in position. The rest of her body followed into him as she brought her leg down in an attempt to stop the momentum. Her other hand braced against his chest so she wouldn’t crash into him further.

He felt it go wrong, the sudden slip of her hand, the weight change, the realization she was falling. He reached up and gripped her waist, taking his hand off the barre to step back and hopefully stop her head from slamming into his chin. Biggest mistake he could have ever made.

He suddenly found his arms full of woman and the momentum shift threw her into him, turning him slightly, and crashing his hip into the barre. It took all his strength to stop them both from hitting the floor in a tangled heap.

“Shit Sorry, I’m so Sorry.” He said and released her when she pushed off him as she swore under her breath.

He could see the slight tremor in her hands as she put them on her hips, breathed out and walked it off. He saw the limp and his gut plummeted. She scrubbed her hand over her face and he watched that unmistakable wince of pain. He’d hurt her. He’d fucking hurt her.

The silence between them was palpable. All he could do was watch her on the other side of the dance floor and wait. He felt the panic attack bubble up and slammed it down hard. He couldn’t lose it yet.

“My fault.” She said raising her hand slightly. “Are you ok?” She looked at him and she wanted to kick herself. Too much, too soon, she swore internally. Too fucking soon for any of this, he’s wasn’t ready. All his anxiety she had chipped away at from day one was now flooding through his system again, she saw it clear as day. More than that, self doubt. She’d fucked this up for him and she’d rolled her ankle.

“I’m fine, but more importantly are you?” He asked shakily. She could see the fear in his eyes, his entire body, She’d scared the fuck out of him.

“I’m fine.” She said and took a tentative step back from him as his hand reached for her, not ready to have him touch her just yet.

“You’re ankle?” He took a leveling breath to calm himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching for her again. He would not freak the fuck out was becoming an all too familiar mantra.

She waved off his question and continued to walk around. His eyes followed her every step, she was still assessing the damage. His gut sank further.

“Thank you for not face planting me, but next time, don’t step back, and don’t let go of the barre.” She said gently but there was no mistaking the tone, irritated teacher. “It’s better I crash into you than both of us tumbling to the floor, which very nearly happened. Had you been holding the barre and not stepped back I would have just fallen into you.” Her voice was curt and he could hear the anger which made him feel that much more of an ass.

Not his fault she reminded herself and she wouldn’t take it out on him, but damn it she wanted to rage at him out of pure fear, and at herself for being a fucking idiot. She should have waited. She should have explained better and she would remember to do so from now on. The only thing that saved them was the fact he was in shape and a stroke of luck at landing on the barre first.

“I wasn’t about to let you hit the floor, and I’m sorry.” His finger traced the wood grain on the barre. He had to keep them moving.

“Not your fault, completely mine. You didn’t know any better where as I should have.” And she felt like shit for it. “I should have told you why I wanted you to not let go of the barre.”

She saw his knuckles whiten as his hand rested on the barre and then grip it hard as if keeping himself in check. A self reminder to not let it go again. He would blame himself, she knew it because that’s the sort of person he was.

“You’re angry.” She said quietly and studied him.

“At myself.” He said softly and relaxed his hand. He had to get the anger in check before he could reign in the anxiety. “It was just instinct took over. You stumbled, I went to catch you.”

“You did what you thought you needed to. It’s fine.” She had to breathe and just roll with it or he’d never recover mentally.

She held the barre lightly and tentatively went en point. He saw the wince and she came back down quickly. She continued to move it and stretch it while she spoke.

“Usually we do this sort of work out on the floor. I felt you needed more support which is why I set you at the barre and not out there. With something to hold on to, to steady you, it would make it easier for you to learn and focus on what we needed to get you up to speed on. This would have been much worse had we been out there.” She pointed to the vast openness of the floor.

“I should have kept it simple for today. You’re doing really well and I jumped the gun a little. Going into a penche wasn’t the best choice, so that’s on me too. There’s more calculation that you have to do to keep balanced for that sort of move and I should have waited a week or so. For that I’m sorry.” She looked at him and saw the understanding in vivid blue staring back.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” Her voice was shaking and she pinched the bridge of her nose to regain some composure and to reign in the tears that were finally threatening to fall. Not yet she willed herself. Not yet and not in front of him.

“I’m not angry at you.” He assured her gently shaking his head. The self doubt he watched crawl into her was devastating. It consumed her in waves and he knew she’d beat herself up over this.

“One more then?” She asked and he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “I’ll understand if you want to call it a day or request someone else to continue what we’ve started.”

“Yes to one more if you’re up for it, and no, I like the teacher I have. Thanks all the same.” He said in a tone that clearly stated his decision wasn’t to be questioned. He wouldn’t let this fuck up what they’d started. On any level.

She nodded and walked a little. Even though his anxiety was up she felt they both needed to get through another one before they left for the day. He needed his confidence back and she needed to keep moving her ankle. She breathed out, then in, trying to force the air back in her lungs. It seemed like it had just all fallen apart on her.

“Give me a minute ok?” He heard her say from the far corner of the room.

“Of course.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye and tried to process what had happened and the feeling of her body pressed against his, his arms around her.

He watched her stretch at the barre at the other end of the studio and then run through a quick series of steps and pirouettes, both en and off pointe. She winced and tried to keep it from him but he saw it. She would try to shied it from him as much as she could.

He didn’t need to worry about this further even though she knew it would be on his mind for the next few lessons. Her ankle wasn’t broken but it was going to smart for a few days. She walked back a moment later and settled at the barre as if nothing had happened. They had to get past this.

He watched in amazement as she stood before him, took her three breaths and was calm when she looked up at him. All except the eyes he mused, those still had the flare of rare anger.

They went back to the bare basics and the first lean they had done today. He gripped the barre and set himself. He noticed the hesitation as she went to lean into him but did so anyway. He knew she was in pain and it killed him to know he had a part in it.

They did another three before it was time for her to go.

“That’s good.” She said quietly. “We’ll start with this tomorrow. I have to go, I’m sorry.” She couldn’t look at him. She’d fucked up and she couldn’t handle seeing that fear and anxiety in him again knowing she put it there.

“See you tomorrow?” He asked gently. This had affected her more than she was admitting. A nod was all he got as she moved away to collect her things and left him standing at the barre.

She didn’t get a warmup in and left with a quiet goodbye. She needed distance to process her fuck up and how not to let it happen again. And the feelings she had for him that had surfaced again.

“Everly?” He called softly and she turned with her hand on the door and looked at him.

“I’m ok.” She said quietly.

She slapped her hand against the door in the only show of her frustration and anger, and left.

He got home that afternoon and threw his keys on the counter with a little more force than he’d originally planned and watched them skid and fall on the floor. He wanted to hurl them against the wall he was so angry at himself. She’d rolled her ankle, or torn something, and that didn’t sit well with him as he paced his accommodations. He couldn’t settle knowing she was injured and he was partly responsible. It just fucking gutted him.

He worked out with the bag that night to burn off the anger, the fear, the insane feeling that she wasn’t going to be there to teach him tomorrow. Would she remove herself because of this? Would she feel the need to? He stopped dead in the middle of a punch and it landed softly at the thought.

“Fuck!” He swore and leaned over to catch his breath. He couldn’t lose her now.

He felt he was making great progress and he wanted to see if there was or could be something more between them.

He worked the bag hard until every muscle ached. He sat for meditation and let his body come down from the workout and the day, intense focus and breathing helped release the panic attack he’d kept a lid on. He felt it boil up and out, taking the rest of the day with it. He was in control not the other way around he kept reminding himself.

He ate dinner and watched the sun set before soaking in the tub. He could already feel the intense ache in his abs and core from earlier, and a stunning bruise was starting to bloom on his hip.

“Looks like the barre has a little punch in it too.” He swore bitterly. “Message received Barre, I won’t let go next time like a dumb fuck.”

She made it through rehearsal and almost collapsed through her front door with relief. Her ankle was better after dancing on it more and then plunging it into an ice bath before walking home. She thought of Gustaf as she soaked in the bath and elevated her foot with more ice.

How was she going to face him tomorrow, get herself back on track, get his head back on task? She knew he would crucify himself over this, he felt responsible when in actuality it was was her own stupidity. She felt her panic rise quickly now, she’d held it in too long.

She sat there soaking and let the tears of the day fall. She let the tears turn into sobs and consume her, letting it purge from her system. She’d kept it together in the moment, when internally she wanted to crumble in a heap at his feet. She wanted the comfort of his arms around her. His kiss, his warmth, that toned body pressed against hers. Something, anything other than the emptiness she constantly felt inside and the loneliness she had to come home to.

**********

He was sitting on the floor the following morning stretching when she came through the door to the studio. He let out a quiet shuddered sigh of relief at seeing her. His eyes dropped to her feet and he saw the strapping below the leg warmer. Shit he thought he really had fucked this up big time.

“Good morning.” His low soft timbre echoed around the room.

“Hi.” She said sitting on the floor to put on her slippers.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” He watched as her hands stilled on her feet momentarily before moving to pick up the other slipper.

“My fault, not yours.” The snap was more at herself than at him but it stung all the same.

“Your ankle ok?” He asked and wanted to reach out and touch her but didn’t. Almost begged her to look at him, to forgive him.

“It’ll be ok. Not the worst I’ve had.” She stood carefully and flexed both feet in the slippers. “Ready?”

“Sure, you going to warm up, I can wait.”

She shook her head.

“I won’t be doing much on my toes today with you. I need to keep that in reserve to rehearsals tonight.”

He knew the dismissive tone when he heard it. He needed to let this go for the moment, she was hurting enough as it was and it wasn’t just her ankle. She motioned to the barre and they got to work.

********

For the next week she was quieter than before and barely looked at him. Their lessons were repetitive for the moment as she couldn’t go up on her toes with him until her ankle was healed, the production came first.

He could see the tumble into him had shaken her. She was more sensitive than she would admit. Enough was enough on that front he thought. He could no longer stand to watch her crumble because of it. He knew it would affect her dancing in the end, something else he would be able to live with.

“Everly?” He saw her tense as they stood at the barre going through the positions as they did at the beginning of every lesson. He had to snap her out of it, she’d barely said a word to him since.

She looked up at him and darted her eyes away. She couldn’t bare seeing those eyes that saw into her soul focused so intently on her. He would see the pain and the self doubt she knew was there. He would see things she wasn’t ready for him to see.

“You’re not ok with what happened the other day.” His tone gentle. “I can see it, and I’m not just talking about your ankle.”

“I should have taken it slower.” Her voice was so quiet. “That’s on me. My hand slipped and I overbalanced. That’s on me too. And I should know better. You don’t know the mechanics as well as Dane. I forgot that for a split second and I’m sorry.”

She dropped her head away from him and his finger hooked her chin and turned her to look at him. She wasn’t going to hide from him any longer. He would get her past this, somehow.

“We have work to do.” He said gently. “I know you’re going to continue to beat yourself up over it but I don’t blame you. I’m ok and I want you to be.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. Her whole body betrayed her and shivered. It didn’t go unnoticed. “I can’t fix your ankle but you don’t need this added stress with the production a few weeks from opening.”

His fingers lightly brushed against her cheek.

“How do I make this better for you, how do I fix it?” He asked.

“You can’t fix it.” She said softly and almost moaned at his touch. “I saw the fear in your eyes and it freaked me out. I thought I’d hurt you, physically hurt you.” She said quietly and tried to look at him again but failed.

He wouldn’t tell her his abs hurt from the strain of keeping them upright, the large bruise at his hip from where he’d met the barre. What was the point of destroying her more.

He gripped the barre and leaned down closer to her.

“I’m ok. I was more worried for you.” He said a breath away from her temple. He wanted to comfort her, wrap her in his arms and hold her. “You have a little more to lose, and I’ll never forgive myself if this stops you dancing. I have time to heal, you don’t, and I know you’re going to be dancing opening night with that injury.” He grazed his lips over her brow.

“Knowing that doesn’t sit right with me.”

He took a chance and kissed her temple, lingering longer than he should have before letting her go as she stepped back. She nodded and composed herself not able to find her words as he’d just blanked her mind with his lips.

“It’s still not your fault.” Her voice wasn’t steady after his kiss.

“How about we split it and call it good?” He lifted her chin up to look at him again, his touch making her quiver. “Fifty fifty?” His tone sent a ripple of desire through her as those eyes looked deeper than she wanted him to.

“Ninety ten.” She said pointing at herself for the ninety, tearing her eyes away from his.

“Fifty fifty it is. And just so you know.” He said quickly before she could respond as he let go of her chin.

“I’ve taken harder bumps in weapons training. No lasting effects.” He said twitching and it got the laugh from her that he was hoping for. His character Floki and his quirkiness bailed him out on occasion.

“I’m ok.” He reassured her and reached out to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

She nodded and a faint smile touched her lips. Those fingers touching her had her melting.

There she is he thought, she’ll come back to me now.

“Pick up where we left off yesterday?” He asked as he took his stance at the barre.

She nodded. “As good a place as any.”

#gustaf skarsgard #On Pointe Ch 3 #all the feels

5 notes · View notes

thestarrythoughts · 4 years

Text

Confronting My Anxiety Around Food

After all these years, I have finally come to accept that I do struggle with food. Growing up, similar to many other girls out there, I used to go on ridiculous fad diets, restricted my food intake while increasing the frequency and intensity of my exercise and would purposely avoid eating with people just to make sure that I get to eat something “healthy”. Somehow, I was able to sort of convince the people around me that I was just into healthy food and that i managed to find a balance. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a picky eater and naturally, I do enjoy my whole foods like vegetables and grains! I avoid fast food and fried food because I do not enjoy them for they are oily and they get my quiet bloated at times. However, I realised that my anxiety around food started to change as I started to get older. Allow me to share my story with you; In my teenage years, say around 13-15 years old, it was the era where tumblr was the prime website where everyone was on. Instagram started getting more popular too. During those period, I started seeing more photos of other girls out there with picture perfect bodies. Victoria Secret was a big thing as well! The Victoria Secret runway show was something that we all looked forward to! Seeing those curvy and long bodies sure made me realise that my body looks nothing like theirs and I really wanted to look like that. With that, there were many different “influencers” and platforms that were promoting and advocating fad diets, the ones who were meant to be quick and effective. The trending diet culture was already screaming at us to EAT LESS!!! RUN MORE!!! EXERCISE IS KEY!!! So, I started exercising more and eating less. At that time, i was also in a physically demanding team sport, netball, so I was training two to three times a week. On top of that, I would add on my own physical training. During recess, I would try to eat as little as possible by buying fruits or yoghurt or I would bring a tuna wrap from home to munch on. What I did not realise is that this led me down to a road of binge eating and a lot of self-hatred. Whenever I stood in front of a mirror, I was never satisfied. I never got that 6 pack abs or that thigh gap and it would always be my fault. Being in an all girls school also did not help. I was constantly surrounded by girls who were skinnier and prettier than me. I guess I just wanted to look like them as well. I could not help but to blame myself every single time that I failed to adhere to a diet.

As I grew older, as a result of training harder for sports, I realised that I had to eat more to fuel myself for the intensive trainings. I started educating myself with regards to food. I came to an understanding that I needed to eat more in order to perform better. The struggle was that I did not want to eat more but I knew that I had to. So instead of trying to restrict my diet as much, i became obsessed with eating healthier. I became very conscious about the way that the food I was having was being prepared. Also, if i ate out and ate something unhealthy, I would make it up the next day by eating super clean. And this would be the current struggle.

Growing older meant that my body was going through changes, changes that I did not welcome. I started to get slightly bigger, my hips definitely got bigger and generally, I started putting on more weight. In university, I started to become less active because I was no longer playing team sports as often and I was just overall physically less active. I was staying on campus which meant that I did not really have access to “clean” food and to save money, I ate whatever was offered. I had a bad coping mechanism with stress as well. Sometimes I would take the healthier route by exercising and going for runs, but other times, it was easier to grab a snack. On some days, I would be super conscious on what I was eating. On other days, especially when I felt like shit, I would just eat whatever I wanted to. I faced multiple set backs in university and I was very stressed. It’s not surprising that I gained so much weight but yet I was very surprised because I rarely ate supper (like less than 10 times in my whole 2 years of university) and I still tried to exercise regularly. As a result, whenever I could, I would try to be super obsessive about the food that I was eating because I wanted to take control. I wanted to feel like I was in control. Unfortunately, I was bouncing back and forth between restricting food intake, binge eating, self-blame, trying to eat clean, breaking the diet... I was devastated and tired.

Right now, by being in quarantine, I am forced to confront my unhealthy eating habits. I realised that I get super stressed out about food and I’m always thinking about how to make my next meal the “clean meal”. I get super uptight when my parents would buy food from outside. Choosing the healthier option is not wrong, but it was more than just that. It was the guilt that came with that. I celebrated my 21st birthday in quarantine which meant that I had cake at home. My lovely family and friends delivered cake and cupcakes to my place and that led to the fridge being full of sweet treats. Because I did not want to waste the food, I started snacking on the sweet treats here and there. Though it felt great at that moment, it would not be long before the feeling of guilt would consume me again. In this period, I felt like i was yoyo-ing between different mentalities. Sometimes i would be forgiving to myself for being a little less restrictive, sometimes i would be super uptight about it. I would skip full meals just to have a cheesecake... well because the calories do add up don’t they? During this period, a lot of “fitspo” influencers started speaking up as well. People were saying things like “oh don’t put yourself under a lot of stress, just be kind to yourself”, and others were like “now is the best time to watch what you eat! Transform yourself in 1 month!”. As well-meaning as the latter were, it did not help that a lot of them were promoting short term gains and fast results! I could do a whole post on this! But anyway, in the first few months, I was constantly in a bad mood because I was so fixated on my food intake! What am I going to eat? How can I make this healthier? Blah blah blah. And every morning, I would go and check myself out in the mirror!! Is that even healthy?

I realised that I had to confront the anxiety when my mood started to affect my family members. The people around me were very conscious that I was in a bad mood. But it was weird because I was normally someone who is cheerful and joyful. I realised that I did not want to affect my family like that because being stuck in quarantine was difficult already, what more with someone who was constantly in a bad mood! So I realised that I needed to change. Firstly, I started eating the food that my parents bought. I became more free with the choices that I ate. WOW, roast pork is REALLY good. I would still avoid the fatty parts, but allowing myself to take a few pieces was already a step of improvement for me. I also started to allow myself to be a bit more carefree with the snacks I ate by limiting my portions and spreading them out over the day than finishing everything in one shot. This really helped me to portion my food and to stop when I was satisfied. Next, I also started to watch more youtube videos by different fitness youtubers who focus a lot on science and nutrition. By watching more people, I had a better understanding of how science and nutrition comes hand in hand! A few of them would be like natacha oceane and jeremy ethier! I also started allowing myself to order foods that I wanted to eat when I started to crave things like noodles. As I said before, my food choices are naturally more on the healthier side, but I would now allow myself to eat more carbs like noodles! Even though from time to time, I still struggle with the way that I eat, I am thankful for the journey that I have gone through so far.

I may go into deeper details soon as I consolidate more thoughts but this is the gist of my journey around food. I am determined to overcome my fear and anxiety around food and I am determined to do so in a healthy way as well! This post became slightly messier than I expected but it felt good to be able to vocalise the thoughts on my mind. I hope that to those of you who stumble upon this page that you would have a safe quarantine period. To those of you who struggle with food, you are not alone. We are in this together :)

#food #quarantine #diet #diets #fitness #foods #writing #journal #thoughts #foodinspiration

1 note · View note

zu-daba · 4 years

Text

Seeking Forgiveness

It’d been an hour or two, now. Zu’Daba’s body was still bruised in places from his mother’s righteous assault, but his mind had been soothed by some good herbal tea and a skewer of fish. They sat, face to face, across a fading bonfire; having already discussed much of what had come to pass since he left. Every little detail from his venture through Un’Goro, to his return to Durotar, to all that happened while he was overseas in Stranglethorn. Everything.

“Three kids?” His mother laughed, “An’ not even a single lettah.. Do dey know about me, Zu-Zu?” He asked, gently, having calmed down from earlier.

“Yes, mada.. Dey do. Ah would like fah dem ta meet you one day, or perhaps to have you come an’ meet dem in Zul’Gurub. You would be welcome there.” He spoke hopefully, his tone trailing off towards the end inquisitively.

“No, no..” She sighed, “My home is here, wit’ de Darkspear.. Ah would love to see dem, but ah am getting old my little son.. An’ Stranglethorn is far away. I know it is your home-- And I know you are proud of it.. But I cannot.”

There was a long, discomforted pause as Zu’Daba peered down into the sand; his toes curling among the grains as he sighed. “Ah understand.. Perhaps ah can bring dem here, but-- Et ain’ easy. Ah have a lot ta do back home.”

“Surely dey can be without you for a week, child..” Zin’adi wilted an ear.

“You don’t understand .. Ah have so much work ta do. So much ta make up fah. Ah do not have time fah personal mattahs.. Even dis may have been a terrible ting fah me ta do, aftah all dat has occurred. Ah should get home--” He paused, catching himself and peering at his mother as she narrowed her eyes.

Yet, the question which followed was unexpected.. “Aftah all dat has occurred? You’ve only mentioned a spare few tumultuous times ta me, Zu-Zu. What did you leave out while you were speaking?”

Zu’Daba took a deep breath, “De Shadowtusk Clan has seen much hardship, but dat which has occurred durin’ mah Chiefdom stands out ta me. De Alliance struck at oah city.. Butchered folk in de streets, killed dem in de shrines. Dey cornered families in deir huts an’ burned dem alive. Much worse tings dat ah would leave unmentioned, as well.. Et was horrible.”

“De Alliance.. Attacking Zul’Gurub? Zu-Zu, ah know you are not so foolish as to try summonin’ Hakkar.. An’ ah would’ve heard of et.. Why would dey strike at you in Zul’Gurub. What happened?” She asked, gently, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder with a soft squeeze.

“A boat..” He sighed.

“Elaborate,” His mother spoke.

“We made a boat.. Collected materials from around Azeroth ta make a vessel in de Zandalari style dat would be nigh-invincible. We got some materials from de outlyin’ regions, like Redridge.. Westfall.. Duskwood.. Blackrock..” He snorted, quite regretful. “Brought de fury of de Alliance down on us..”

“An’ why do you tink dis was your fault? Only yours?” She asked.

“..Ah ordered et. Et’s mah fault by default.” He laughed, bitterly.

Frowning, Zin’adi smacked him upside the head. “Don’ get short.. So you ordered your clan ta attack dese places? Ta thick-headedly draw de ire of de Alliance through reckless harvestin’ an’ butchery?” She didn’t seem so much angered by the thought of killing Alliance, so much as by the recklessness.

“No, no! I didn’t, no.. Ah-- Ah tried ta get dem ta be subtle, in a lot of places. But many of dem did not listen. Dey butchered innocents.. Dey were reckless in deir methods an’ did not disguise demselves. Most of de time, ah didn’t even know of et until far too late ta solve de problem.” The Darkspear rubbed his palm against the back of his neck and wrinkled up his nose.

“By Bethekk.. Zu’Daba,” Zin’adi spoke, immediately garnering his attention. It was not often she didn’t use her affectionate nickname for him. “Are you a mon who thirsts for blood?”

“..No, mada..”

“Do you lack subtlety? Are you witless?” She sighed.

“No, mada.”

“Did you start buildin’ dis boat wit’ every intention to piss off dese people an’ bring trouble upon your clan?”

“..No, mada.” Zu’Daba growled.

“So why are you blamin’ yaself? You said you gave good ordahs. You said you were intelligent. You tried ya best, an’ de whims of oddahs got in de way. Et is possible ta do all you can an’ still lose-- Dat’s jus’ how tings work. Life ain’t fair like dat, an’ you got a tough lot. Besides.. You beat dem back, didn’t you? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” She offered a supportive smile.

“Ah-- Yes, we did.. We killed de Alliance. Sent ‘em pissin’ back ta Stormwind wit’ powerful voodoo an’ a divine storm, den we killed deir commandah. Had to work for months in Zandalar ta get de support ta defeat dem, an’ ah led us every step of de way. But et doesn’t change dat a leadah must be able ta control everyting in de ranks of dose who serve him. All tings fall onto his shoulders--”

“Bullshit.” She stated, simply. “What kind of foccery is dat? You tink Thrall could have controlled what Garrosh did aftah appointin’ him? You tink dat Vol’jin could control de Darkspear Rebellion’s initial losses? A leadah can only do so much, Zu-Zu. You are not de savior of your people. You are not deir sole hero.”

“..Is dat supposed ta help me feel better?” Daba spoke, crestfallen.

“No. It’s supposed to humble you.” His mother snorted. “You are not de only one who controls de fate of your people. You remember dat phrase? You can lead a raptor ta watah, but you..” She trailed off.

“Can’t make ‘em drink.” Daba finished, for her.

“Right. Dis clan you lead made mistakes.. An’ maybe you made a few with dem. But unless you held de torch ta dese families.. Unless you held de rifles ta de back of deir necks an’ unless you directly participated in all of de torment dat your clan caused de Alliance.. Et is not only your fault. An’ while et is good dat you were willin’ ta fix what happened.. You should nevah have taken dat burden as your penance for your mistakes. A leadah cannot lead alone.” She rubbed a hand against his back with her brows furrowed.

“Anehone who says oddahwise doesn’t know what et means to lead. Anyone who blamed you, an’ only you, fah what happened.. Dey’re cruel.” She offered.

Zu’Daba sighed and sat up, looking at the stars. “Dat’s not de only problem.. A great creature, a C’thraxxi, stalks us at every turn. If ah had jus’ gone away.. It would never have come aftah us in de firs’ place. Maybe if ah go away now, it will too-- Et seems like et WANTS us ta fight. Ta draw inta oahselves. Am ah only makin’ tings worse in dis struggle?” The Shadow Hunter closed his eyes.

“Where would the clan be, if you weren’t dere?” Zin’adi lofted a brow.

“I.. Don’t know. I don’t know who would have led. I don’t know who would have stayed or left. I don’t know if de whole clan would collapse, dere’s no way to..” He trailed off, seeing her point and shaking his head out.

“Your loa, Legba, ever remind you of dat? Or did you simply forget ta listen ta his voice in ya Rush’kah? Ah shouldn’t need to tell you that, Zu-Zu.” His mother teased.

“Ya righ’, yes.. But-- De fightin’.. What if ah jus’ givin’ Garax what he wants? What if he wants us ta fight? He seems ta always be a step ahead in his grand design, an’ et seems like de more we fight de more power he gains.. Should we run? Should we surrender ta survive, or throw oah lot in wit’ anoddah?” He cringed at the mere thought, red-eyed gaze meeting the older woman’s.

“Can you run?” She canted her head.

“No.. No, we can’t. He’ll jus’ chase us..”

“Would you willingly surrender?” She narrowed her eyes.

“No-- No! Of course not, et’d cost us everything.. We’d all be consumed an’ all we fought ta build would mean nothin’. All.. Obliterated.”

“Would you throw your lot in with the Horde?” She finally offered.

“No.. We are not de Horde. We are many, many tribes.. Ta join de Horde or any oddah folk would insult many of mah own clansmates.”

“So.. What choice remains?” She questioned, assuredly rhetorical.

“Fight..” Zu’Daba clenched a fist.

“Aye. If you hadn’t fought, where would your clan be? What would have happened to all you built if you nevah fought against Skaldrean?” She continued.

“Gone ta dust.. Nothin’. We’d be homeless, an’ destitute.” He already seemed to be perking up in that moment of realization.

“An’ what will happen if you do not fight against dis.. Garax?” She grinned. Now you’re starting to get it, son. “You know de answer, Zu-Zu.”

“Mah children.. Mah clan.. De tribes we’ve aligned wit’.. All of dem will fall down an’ be destroyed, eiddah by time or shadow. We need to fight.” He snarled.

“Dat’s right. You do. An’ even if ah cannot join you in dat fight, Zu’Daba, ah know dat you can win et. When we are attacked, we do not sit on oah laurels an’ take et. We do not -bow- to de darkness dat would consume dat which we love. Even if we lose, as you have, we get righ’ back up an’ start fightin’ again. Until we are nothin’ but ash.. We must fight fah what we are, an’ what we believe in. Ah know dat is what went through ya fada’s head as he shielded us from de sea.”

After that speech, Zu’Daba swiped some tears from his eyes.. His teeth grit and he murmured ever so softly to his mother. “Thank you.. Thank you, mada.. Ah don’ think you know how much ah needed dat remindah. All dis time, ah been called a fool fah fightin’.. Fah strivin’.. Fah standin’ up fah what ah believe in an’ fah de culture of mah people. But ah knew dey were wrong. Dey jus’.. Scared. An’ dey not stupid ta be.. But we all pay in blood, one way or de oddah.”

His mother nodded as he met her gaze tearfully, leaning in to embrace her tightly and shuddering. His face pushed slightly against her cheek as he wept and took a moment to compose himself.

“Ah.. Should probably sleep soon, if you’ll have me here. But.. Can ah ask you something, before ah do?” He closed his eyes and sat back on the stump he perched upon. The cool ocean breeze brushed through his fur as his toes curled into the sand and the stars shone upon the waves crashing against the shore.

“Anehthing, Zu-Zu.”

“Did you know ah was still alive?” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Smiling, Zin’adi stood up and offered him a hand. “Do you remember what I tol’ you when you were young, aftah ya faddah died? Dat every time a great troll dies, de loa put a star in de sky ta honor deir passing?”

Zu’Daba nodded, standing up and grabbing his Rush’kah from the stump nearby so that he wouldn’t leave it out in the open to be taken by passersby.

“I never saw yours.”

0 notes

proxylynn · 5 years

Text

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #17

Chapter 17: Inconvenience WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Time behind the bar ain't that bad. Grillby is a very patient man in his teaching of me. There are drinks that every bartender, and now barmaid, should know that are put into different categories. Sours, Fizzes, Lowballs, Three-parters, and Milk Drinks. Sours contain citrus juice, should be tart or at least tangy and are usually shaken in a cocktail shaker and served straight up. Freshly squeezed juices are critical here, often paired with simple syrup (sugar dissolved in an equal volume of water) to sweeten. Fizzes include anything with bubbles such as highballs, Champagne cocktails, Collinses, mules, bucks. These drinks can be incredibly simple and are clearly the most refreshing. Plus it is not difficult to keep a few six-packs of sodas and 750s of basic booze in your liquor cabinet. With Lowballs, these old school short cocktails are simply sweetened liquor zipped up with something bitter. The sweet can come from sugar, muddled with fruit or simmered into syrup, or a sweeter liqueur like triple sec or maraschino. The bitter can be a few dashes of any of a vast variety of bottled bitters, or a bitter spirit like an amaro. Three-parters are harder as these drinks are the most spirit-forward of the collection, a three-part combo of booze plus what's known as a "modifier" (a lower-alcohol ingredient like vermouth) plus a bitter or a syrup. Here we find drinks like the martini, Manhattan, Brooklyn, Negroni, boulevardier, Rob Roy and all of their bold and boozy cousins. Milk Drinks are like an odd member of this liquor family. Milk can be paired with beer, cider, wine, and spirits. It's weird but then again I'm not an expert that likes liquor. With that aside, there are ten basic drinks that are always ordered here. The Old Fashioned, Negroni, Daiquiri, Manhattan, Whiskey Sour, Dry Martini, Margarita, Moscow Mule, Mojito, and Sazerac. The Old Fashioned was the one Grillby had me make for Papyrus and it's one of those old drinks that never goes out of style but can be made with either bourbon or rye whiskey. Such changes apply to many drinks and this variety is how two drinks, even if they are the same in name, are never the same in taste. But the Old Fashioned is one of those drinks that takes some time to save in your memory due to its steps. Grillby at least keeps my starter training to the drinks with simple steps. Such as the Negroni which only needs three things to make it, 1 oz. London dry gin, 1 oz. Campari, and 1 oz. vermouth rosso. Another easy one, which the ladies tend to go for, is the Dry Martini which is made with 4 oz. gin or vodka and 1 oz. dry vermouth that is typically topped with an olive as a garnish. Grillby limits me to just two of these drinks to learn so that by repetitively making them they have a better chance of being remembered in my brain. Not a bad plan really. Then he plans on testing me the next day to see if I do recall how to make them before he tries teaching me any of the other ones. Yet other than that, I do the normal things a cocktail waitress would do, bringing drinks to patrons and making sure that they get their grub. All in all, not that bad of a job really. I could get used to this. It also helps that my new boss is a flaming sweetheart in a world of douche bags that is as fun to tease gently. "Oh, pussycat...Doggo's steak is ready." "On it, Grillmeister." "Don't forget to..." "Check if drinks and snacks need refilling." "That too. But I was going to say, don't forget to empty out his ashtray." "He needs to smoke his biscuits outside. Damn things stink. Besides, you're already smoking...hot." Grillby merely chuckles as I go about my duties. From the times when Sans and I are in the bar, I notice that Grillby has a certain mood when it comes to puns. If they are in good taste, flirty, or flattering, he's okay with them. But negative, hurtful, or just plain bad ones get him rather perturbed. "well don't you look busy..." Speak of the skeleton and he shall appear. "trying to make yourself look good for paps?" "As if. I take it it's your break time. My how time flies fast for the wingless." "what can i say? my bones are pretty hollow. perfect for flight." I wave my hand in a side to side wave. "A bit of a stretch with that one." He rubs the back of his skull as he approaches his bar stool. "yeah, not my best wordplay." Grillby pulls out a mustard bottle. "Rough day?" Sans takes it. "you can say that. i'm just...having an off day." "Want to talk about it?" Sans seems to mull this over before bringing the bottle to his mouth. "some other time maybe...though..." He gulps the condiment a few times. "if i can borrow her for a moment?" Grillby and I share odd looks of confused concern, but I give him a nod to which Grillby does as well. "Do you want a booth or somewhere less...occupied?" "here's fine." Grillby waves me over as I finish catering to Doggo and take the seat next to Sans. "Everything okay?" Sans stares off into nothing while drinking. "i've been thinking a lot today." I prop my arm on the bar and support my head in the palm of my hand. "What about? Normal stuff? Or...secret buddy stuff?" After a particularly long swig of mustard, Sans puts the bottle down and his left eye flares with a magical glow. Suddenly, the bar goes dark except for a spotlight of light on the two of us and looking around shows that everyone in the dark has frozen still as if someone paused a movie. "i can't do this for long. takes a lot of magic to stop time like this." Wait, what?! "You can stop time? Dude! That is fucking epic!" And just like that, I'm a five-year-old seeing a shark for the first time. "Is it all over or just in the bar?" "the bar. now please..." His tone is calm but holds a seriousness that I pick up on over my silly childishness. "Sorry. You wanted to talk now?" He toys with the bottle a bit. "for starters...how come you don't look at me or pap when you come back from seeing gaster?" I pout and cast my eyes to the floor. "I don't mean for it to be insulting. But after dealing with what Gaster does to me, I honestly can't bring myself to look at either of you until I've calmed down." "how come?" "Because...I can see him when I look at your faces. Like how if you stare into a light then look away, the image still lingers in your vision. It probably doesn't help that there's a family relation thing too. But after being in the void...being experimented on for god knows how long...His face remains in my sight for some time. The part that really messes with me is Papyrus...He...He resembles Gaster even on the good days." I rub my eyes trying to make them clear and Sans takes another drink. "yeah, pap and dings take after our old man in the looks department. me? i got my devilishly handsome mug from mommy dearest." Something clicks in my head that hadn't before. "You have parents?" He snorts an amused chuckle. "well duh. how else do ya think we came about? it's not like we were just thought up and poof there's a baby skeleton." "I know. I had a brain fart moment. It's just...Forgive me if I'm overstepping...But while in your home, I never saw anything showing a family memory of any sort." His eyes go dark for a moment except for the left that still holds it's glow. "we keep that stuff elsewhere in our past." A bad feeling squeezes my heart. "They...They fell down, didn't they?" He remains silent for a long time. I mentally kick myself for this. This is a scar I should not touch. "what happened in the void last night?" He speaks. At least that's something. I sigh, giving the fainting bruises on my arms a passing glance. "I requested his help in finding a way to control or suppress the Black Soul. As you can see...He has a very hands-on approach." A short weak laugh comes from that small pun. "are ya sure that's a good thing to do?" I glare at the foggy memory of what happened in that dead timeline. I wasn't in control but I saw things through a blurry dark window. So much hate. Such blood lust. That thing was less than human. A beast. "If going through the pain of his experiments is what is needed to make that THING go away and to prevent any of THAT from happening again...I think it's worth it." He breathes slowly for a bit. "just...be careful around him. gaster is like a, what do you humans call it...a wolf in sheep's clothing? he'll offer what you need, but not because he cares or anything. he does it because it helps him in the long run. if he sees something he can gain, he will do what is needed to get it." "I figured as much." That got him to look at me. "you know?" "No good deed is ever done 100% out of good intentions in this world we live in. Gaster is less than subtle with his wants. He wants to study my soul, that's his goal. I'm okay with it because my goal is being done in his little fun time. I'm using him just as much as he's using me. Simple as that." Sans shakes his head. "you're dealing with a devil that you can't possibly understand." I shrug. "Sacrifices must be made to keep any more death from happening. I am willing to be that lamb on the alter if needed." "i didn't take you for the martyr type." I turn my head to look at Grillby, standing still as he was in mid-pour from one of the taps. "I am many things. I am a fool. I am a human. I am sad. I am flawed. I am not supposed to be here. But here I am. And I refuse to be a beast that kills without hesitation or remorse. I don't want that event to ever happen again. That is my promise to all in the Underground. No one will die. I won't allow it." Sans eyes me before scoffing. This bugs me. "Did I say something weird to you?" "you can't keep anyone from dying down here." "The hell I can't." "okay...so what'll you do if someone just died in waterfall?" I sneer. "I can't do anything in that situation. One, I'm not God and lack omnipresence to know what's happening everywhere at all times. And two, you are the only one that can teleport." "exactly. you are not god. you can't stop things from happening. sure, you can tap into that quirky RESET thing, but it's not going to stop events that will still happen without you there. you are just an insignificant speck among countless other specks. your intent can be good, but in the end, is pointless." "Wow...Someone woke up on the bleak side of the mattress today." "i'm just being real. we all die. you. me. everyone in this room. all things on this planet. all of it will die one day. maybe not today. maybe not tomorrow. but someday." "Dude, have you been hanging out with my depression? Because I swear I've heard that before." "don't be a smart ass." "At least I have one." He growls at me as I smirk. "What's wrong? Was that too cheeky of me?" He clenches his teeth to hold in a laugh. "Butt...enough jokes. You still look like something is troubling you. And you might as well say it before your magic runs out on this freeze frame in time." He guzzles the bottle and brings it down rather hard. "ya wanna know what's on my mind? alright...tell me...what would you do if ya found out a monster had a thing for you?" Well, that escalated quickly out of nowhere. I can feel warmth pool in my cheeks and my mouth forms into a goofy dumb smile. "Why, Sans, I had no idea you cared." I know he didn't mean himself. But he's been so serious that I couldn't help but try to rattle him out of it. And boy did it rattle him good. His skull practically glows in crimson blush and the mustard bottle in his grip is squeezed to hell. He tries to form words to negate this but all that leaves him are these sounds of broken stumblings that aren't quite words or noise but a strange mix of the two. I end this for his sake. "Relax, buddy. I'm just messing with you. I know you don't like me like that. Hell, I'm pretty sure you see me as an abomination." His left eye starts twitching in building rage. But I continue as I let my free hand's fingers dance on the bar. "Though to answer your question...I'd be flattered really." That seems to surprise him and dispels his anger. "really?" "Yeah." "...why?" I close my eyes in thought. "I am not an expert when it comes to things like this. Matters of the heart and all that jazz. If I'm honest here...I like guys, but I've never really been one to actively seek out others. Heh...I'll let you in on a secret that's not so secret. Papyrus isn't the only one to never be on a date. And if you knew of how messed up human guys were you'd agree that it's smart not to do so. I can't say some monster guys are any different from those schmucks, but others..." I smile while opening my eyes. "The good ones leave a mark that I can't help but like." "is grillby one of those 'good ones'?" Hmmm...Me thinks he is trying to make a point here. Should I take the bait or dance around it? "My good sir, whatever do you mean?" Guess I'm dancing. And he is not happy about it. "cut the crap. i remember what happened when he was dying. i remember the kiss." "And?" "and?! ya can't just say and!" "Why not? I don't see what the big deal is. So we kissed. What's the issue?" "because!" I sigh and put a stop to the dance. "Why not just tell me what's really bugging you instead of trying to shoehorn it in like you're a dad trying to get me to admit to sneaking off with the local bad boy to make out in his car." He suddenly grabs me by the collar of my shirt and snarls in my face. "do not fuck with me! if you hurt my friend i swear to whatever fucked up god that'll listen, i will end you! i will unleash pain the likes of which..." "Hold it! You think I'd hurt Grillby?" My confused tone takes some of that anger down a bit. "...you're not stringing him along?" I put my hands up defensively. "Sans, buddy, why would I do that? Grillby is like the only guy/monster to be genuinely nice to me. I'd have to be a massive cunt to do that." "how do i know you're not lying?" "Would a heartless bitch cry over the guy she was using?" I slowly put my hands on his. "Look...I know this is weird. Hell, I'm still figuring things out on my end too. But since being down here I've learned one important thing...happiness is hard to find. So why not try to find it with someone that is wanting to do the same and actually likes me?" He sees I make a point but is still wary of me. "do you like him?" I cast my eyes at Grillby. "I do. But it's a small like. I guess in level terms it's a small crush. But what can one really expect with limited contact? As we hang out more, who knows. Maybe that level will increase to something stronger or this thing we have will never change. Only time will tell." "ya do know that if anyone finds out that you're human they'll kill him for treason, right?" That squeezing feeling happens on my heart again. This time it's more a harsh pain than dread. "You think I'm going to announce myself as human? That was the problem in the dead timeline. I have no intention of repeating that. Never again." He stares at me hard and I notice the glow in his left eye starting to flicker out. I let his hands go as his magic sputters to its end and the light expands to fill the bar, resuming time once more for those on the inside. Seeing this, Sans lets me go before anyone questions the odd scene that came out of nowhere for them. "glad we could have this talk." "Yeah. We should do it again sometime." Grillby eyes us as Sans places a small amount of gold on the bar. "oh, before i forget...pap has this idea that you're up to some cockamamie evil plan to lull us into a false sense of security." A snicker leaves me. "What? Why?" "personally, i think it's 'cause ya act nice in the morning and night. throws him off when he knows ya for being a bitch." "Yeah, I can see that. But he's just being paranoid. I'm more nice at those times because no one wants to deal with shit when the day starts or ends." "i hear that." Sans hops off his stool and I do the same. "Leaving so soon, Sans?" If only you knew, Grillby. "ya know how my bro gets. he gets all pissy if i'm away for even a second." Sans looks at me and for a moment I can't get a read off his skull. "you...be good, lynsie." A warm smile curls my lips. "It's messed up how I want to hug you right now." He shakes his head. "just like that, ya killed the moment." He walks off towards the door. "later, kiddo." A chuckle scoffs out of me. "Later, bonehead." He flips me off as he exits and all I do is smirk. "What a dork...But in a good way." "Things okay there, pussycat?" I give my flaming boss of a bartender a goofy thumbs up. "Things be swell, boss-man." I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of Grillby's glasses and I blush a little bit. "Geez, is that what I look like? No wonder Papyrus is suspicious of me. Heh...Barely recognized myself for a second." Grillby slides the drink he was pouring to Ugly Fish with a knowing smirk. "Seems like you're the one letting your guard down." "As dumb as it sounds, how can I not when I feel so comfortable here?" I stroll my dorky self back behind the bar and grab a dry rag to do some dish work. "It also helps if there's a warm someone that makes me smile every so often." I get to my tidying task and try not to notice Grillby inching his way closer as he goes about doing other things. "These smiles you speak of..." He's at the beer taps. "Would they be real ones..." He's by the wine rack. "Or ones made to give off the impression of happiness?" He's standing in front of where Sans and I were sitting. "As if you were wearing a mask maybe?" He's gotten beside me now and I slow down in my task. "...I say personal things when drunk, don't I?" "No, not really. But you're incredibly honest when tipsy that's for sure." I scold myself for being so weak. "Not to mention you're a bold one too..." Drunk Bun blurts out while looming out of her booth. "Took some real courage to kiss ol' Grillby there. But look at the luck you got. Now you have a cushy gig and spicy sugar daddy to play with. Girl power at it's finest." A bad taste coats my tongue as my stomach churns. I think I'm going to be sick. Grillby takes note of this distress when I nearly drop a mug in my trembling hands. He tries to settle my nerves with a hand on my shoulder. "Don't listen to her. You know that's not how things are." It's not working. I know she's wrong. But that's not to say the whole bar isn't thinking the same thing. That I'm using Grillby. Hell, even Sans thought I was. Why? Why is it hard to just be happy for once? "This was a mistake..." He flinches and I put my things down. "I'm sorry for troubling you." "Pussycat...?" I go to walk away but he blocks me. "Where do you think you're going?" "Home." "No. You're staying here." "I'm not staying." "Yes, you are." "I'm not staying in a place where everyone thinks I'm a whore!" "But you're not a whore!" "I know that!" "Then why are you getting upset?!" "I don't know! I just want to leave so no one has to see me...*quietly* cry..." I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and he frowns at me. "Go inside and rest. We'll talk later when you're feeling better." I feel like a snot-nosed kid about to yell for their lost parents. With what little dignity I have left, I just nod my head and he lets me pass to enter his home. Though once that door is closed behind me I have a hard time holding this back. I suppress any sound until I'm at least in the living room, but once there, I'm a mess. It's really annoying having to cry. Once the water starts going it's hard to make it stop. And odder still, you get used to it then want to cry more when it begins to stop. Shit is weird. I hope Grillby doesn't get mad at me for this. Making a sad nasty mess out of one of his sofa cushions. But I'm compelled to do it. To hold it in my arms as if I were holding someone else. This instinctual need to have contact, even if imaginary, just to feel some sort of comfort when feeling so low. Back on the surface, I'd simulate this by putting one of my jackets on a pillow and wrap the sleeves around my neck. Argh! I hate being so fucking weak! This shit shouldn't be getting to me! Since when do I give a shit about what others think of me?! This isn't right! Fuck this stupid soul for making me feel these stupid things! Ugh...I need to be coaxed down from this shit! I've gotta call Toriel. Her mothering is actually something I could use right now. That and a hug. I could so go for a hug right now! [RING] "Hello?" "*sniffling* Nanny..." "Lynsie, my child, are you all right?" "*crying* I was weak...My guard was down...Something stupid got under my skin and now...I can't make the tears stop." "Do you wish me to sing to you?" "*sniffles* Yes please..." As babying as it is, something about Toriel soothingly singing to me settles me down when I'm upset. "♪Cry if you want to. I won't tell you not to. I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you want me...There's no use in keeping a stiff upper lip, you can weep you can sleep you can loosen your grip. You can frown, you can drown and go down with the ship. You can cry if you want to. Don't ever apologize for venting your pain, it's something to me you don't need to explain. I don't need to know why I don't think you're insane. You can cry if you want to.♫" Toriel knows many songs, some from the past and others from human things that fell down here. This one, "Cry If You Want To" by Karen Drucker, is from my iPod's 'feel better' playlist. She's a nosy mom. "♪The windows are closed the neighbors aren't home if it's better with me then to do it alone. I'll draw all the curtains and unplug the phone. You can cry if you want to...You can start at the ceiling, tear at your hair, swallow your feelings and stagger and swear. You can show things, and throw things and I wouldn't care. You can cry if you want to...No I won't make fun of you. I won't tell anyone. I won't analyze what you do or you should have done. I won't advise you to go and have fun. You can cry if you want to.♫" My breathing is calmer and my grip on the sofa cushion is less harsh. She's good at this. "♪The windows are closed the neighbors aren't home if it's better with me then to do it alone. I'll draw all the curtains and unplug the phone. So you can cry...When it's empty and ugly and terribly sad, I can't feel what you feel but I know it feels bad. I know that it's real and it makes you so mad. That you could cry. Cry if you want to. I won't tell you not to. I won't try to cheer you up, I'll just be here if you want me to be near you.♫" The tears have stopped before her last note and god knows how much I miss being around her. "My child? You are silent now. Are you feeling any better?" I wipe my face. "I miss you. I miss you, mom." "I miss you too. Do you know if you are able to come home?" "Sans would probably help with that, but Papyrus doesn't leave me unsupervised, and now I have a job working at Grillby's that I don't want to fail at..." "Grillby's?" "It's a pub in Snowdin Town that they leave me in while they work." "...They leave my child in a bar for hours at a time?" "It's fine. Sans stops by regularly to keep an eye on me. And the owner is...nice." "Oh? This proprietor is treating you well?" "That would be Grillby, and yeah. You may remember me calling him a trouble maker for eavesdropping on one of our last phone calls. He's...without sounding like a huge dork...a great guy." "You sound like you are quite taken by him." "Heh...He has a way of warming his way into the heart." "Hmmmm..." "I think you'd like him. The man knows his way around a kitchen. I can totally picture the two of you sharing recipes and stuff. Maybe even an embarrassing story or two about me." "I am not sure how to take you talking him up like this." "I see where this is going, but I'm going to stop you before you say anything else...No. Grillby is not my boyfriend. We, at the most, have a mutual interest in each other. Whether this seed sprouts anything or remains sleeping in the soil is up to time. So, please...Try not to get all overprotective about it." "My child, if the man can not stand being burned than he has no place being near our kitchen." "Well he's made of fire so, I think he's fine with increasing temperatures." She snickers a bit off. "Darn. I will have to think of another means of keeping him in line then." I sigh. "What did I just ask you not to do? Would it help if you were able to talk to him?" "...It might." "I don't know when he'll go on break next but he'll come to check on me soon. He gave me a break when I had my break down." "Hmmm...Maybe there are some monsters with good left in them after all." That's what I was trying to...Calm down, she's just a bit messed up, it's normal. "Glad to hear you're willing to try." "So you will be calling me back within the hour?" "Depends on when he chooses to go on break. He runs the bar solo and me breaking down instead of aiding him doesn't help. Heh...Some first day huh?" "My child, you are a strong and trusting girl. You see the potential in others. You have hope that they will use that potential. You must also harden yourself for when those do not do so." "I know. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. My emotions have been out of whack. One moment I'm normal, tough as nails and with skin so thick that negativity bounces off like dust bunnies. The next moment I'm a weak wimpy mess, getting weepy over the stupidest and lamest of reasons." "Maybe this Grillby is allowing the softer emotions of a proper young lady come out?" "Nah. I blame my soul. Since being out here, two more odd colors showed themselves." "Two more?" "Yeah. Now there's pink and white. Ever since they appeared, this emotional flux has been happening. It's annoying the crap out of me. I'm not in control over how I want to feel anymore." "Welcome to being a woman, my child." That got a laugh out of me. "Good one, Nanny." "While this talk has been nice, my child, I must end it. I am slowly simmering some vegetables for a stew." "Ah...Not your super veggie stew. That's my fave." "Shame then that I have no one else to share it with." "No fair. I can't teleport." "Maybe if you are lucky, I will have some ready and be able to give it to Sans." "No with my luck as if late. Still, thank you, Nanny. You're the best." "*giggles* Take care, my child." "Laters, Mom." [CLICK] I sigh and shut my eyes, letting a small wave of calm wash over me. I needed that. I needed to hear her. I needed to feel like there was a parent I could talk to. Heh...So this is what having a mom feels like? I like it. [RING-RING] The phone goes off in my hand. Maybe Toriel forgot to mention something or perhaps Napstablook wants to share some tunes? I flip it open and see an unknown number. Who the hell knows this number? "Hello?" "HELLO THERE, DARLING~. TIS I, THE ALWAYS FABULOUS AND EVER DELIGHTFUL, METTATON! " And I thought Papyrus had an ego. Mettaton? How the fuck did he...Oh, wait... "You traced the number, didn't you?" Robotic giggles are my answer. "MY, AREN'T YOU THE CLEVER ONE." "Not to sound rude but...Why are you calling me? And if this is for TV I'm hanging up." "NO, NO, NO CAMERAS OR RECORDINGS GOING ON, I ASSURE YOU. THIS IS JUST A SIMPLE CALL ON MY PART BEING DONE IN MY PRIVATE TIME." That didn't sound weird at all...not. "Then what do I owe the honor of a celebrity giving lowly me a moment of your time?" "OH SUCH LOVELY WORDS. THE NICEST I'VE HEARD IN AGES. WELL...I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS. I AM AN ADMIRE OF YOUR KIND AND I FIND YOU PARTICULARLY INTERESTING, TO SAY THE LEAST." I rub the bridge of my nose. "I suppose I too have a few for you as well. We could go back and forth if that's okay with you?" "SO GENEROUS. THAT'S A VERY ATTRACTIVE QUALITY. BUT TO START THINGS OFF...HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT I KNEW YOU WHERE ON THE PHONE WITH ME THE OTHER DAY?" Oh because I lived through your show before and died but no big deal. "Your show made no sense and was out of character. You were clearly reaching out for something. You created a situation that any normal person in the Underground would be okay with, killing someone deemed guilty. But you weren't looking to be called by a monster...you wanted me. The human that shows mercy." "HEHEHEHEH...YOU REALLY ARE SOMETHING ELSE. I LOVE IT. YES, DARLING, YOU SAW RIGHT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. I APPLAUD YOU." "Now my turn...How did you find out about me?" "DEAR, YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS. I WON'T SAY WHERE OR HOW MANY, BUT THERE ARE SECURITY CAMERAS PLACED FROM OUTSIDE THE RUINS ALL ALONG THE PATH LEADING TO SNOWDIN TOWN." My eye twitches. "What?" "OH YES. BUT NO WORRIES, DEAR. THOSE CAMERAS ARE NOT FOR TELEVISION PURPOSES. THEY ARE SOLELY FOR THE DETECTION OF HUMANS. IT'S HOW I'VE BEEN MONITORING YOUR PROGRESS." Great, just what I need, another guy watching over me that I can't do shit about. "BUT LIKE I SAID, THE CAMERAS ONLY ARE ON THE PATH TO TOWN FROM THE RUINS. THERE ARE SADLY NONE IN THE TOWN ITSELF." "That's something at least." "CAMERA SHY? HOW ADORABLE." "You sound so different off-screen." One of my inner thoughts became voiced. "...HOW SO?" Okay, he's not miffed about it. Maybe I can chat with him like normal. "In shows, you come off like everybody else. But this...You seem more at ease. Comfortable. Nice." There's a pause on his end for a bit. "I believe it's your turn." "OH...HUH...MIGHT I GET A TAD PERSONAL WITH THE QUESTIONS?" "Does that question count as your turn?" "NO." "Then...Maybe. Nothing too personal. I don't know you aside from the TV personality." "THAT CAN CHANGE, DARLING~. I AM MORE THAN DELIGHTED IN SHARING ALL THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT MYSELF WITH YOU." Thank god this phone can't do pictures. Because this suddenly is giving me creepy vibes that don't need visual aids. "AS FOR MY QUESTION...WHAT ARE THOSE SKELETONS DOING WITH YOU? LAST THING I SAW OF YOU WAS THAT TALL ONE CARRIED YOU OFF AFTER SMALLER ONE RAN TO YOU ON THE FAKE BRIDGE." "Why so interested?" "I ASKED MY QUESTION FIRST, DARLING." I'm a house bitch to guys that half the time can't tell if they want me dead or not. "I'm a pet." ...Why would you let me say that, brain?! "A PET?" "Yeah? Kind of? It's complicated in a completely humiliating way that I'm not really at liberty to discuss." "BUT A PET? REALLY?" "I know. But hey, it beats being killed for my soul." "IF I HAD FOUND YOU, YOU WOULD NOT BE A PET." "Oh?" "A RARE GEM LIKE YOU SHOULD BE TREASURED. I WOULD..." "Gonna cut you off there. Don't. Just, don't." "I BEG YOUR PARDON?" "You're being cliché. I'm not a fan of clichés. And you were about to ring the oldest cliché bell." "I ASSURE YOU THAT IS NOT THE CASE." "Let me take a stab at what you were going to say...*ahem* A rare gem like you should be treasured. I would tend to your every desire. You'd be a queen. My queen. Nothing is beyond my power if it meant I'd be with you...That come any close to where you were going?" "...I WILL ADMIT TO ABOUT 5% OF THAT BEING ON THE NOSE. THE REST I FIND GOOD ENOUGH TO USE IN A SCRIPT FOR LATER." "I watch a lot of anime so when I feel a yandere vibe I tend to try to avoid it." "YANDERE?" "How do I put it? I guess you can define it as strongly and deeply infatuated, head-over-heels, obsessed, or love-struck but without really feeling the true emotion yet believing that you do. In anime and other things that use this type of character, it's usually a girl that starts out being genuinely kind, loving, or gentle, but suddenly switches to being aggressive, twisted, or deranged, often homicidal when things don't go with how they plan out their little 'love story'." "OOOH...YES, I'VE SEEN MANY OF THOSE TYPES IN ALPHY'S ANIMES. I THINK SHE HAS A THING FOR IT." "Alphys...? The name sounds familiar." "SHE'S THE ROYAL SCIENTIST." "Oh yeah. I forgot about that." "YOU HEARD OF HER?" "Small talk from the skele-bros. Not much else." "SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT. I HEAR THEY DON'T REALLY CARE FOR HER. NOT MANY DO." "She's that bad?" "DEPENDS ON WHAT END OF THE SYRINGE YOU'RE ON." Well, that's not cool. Suddenly a faint beeping is heard on his end. "OH SHOOT!" "Something wrong?" "MY TIMER IS GOING OFF. I'M AFRAID I HAVE TO END THIS PLEASANT CONVERSATION, DARLING. I CAN'T KEEP MY OBNOXIOUS FANS WAITING." "The show must go on as they say." "I LOOK FORWARD TO TALKING WITH YOU AGAIN, DEAR. IT'S SO HARD TO FIND SOMEONE TO HAVE A DECENT CONVERSATION WITH THAT DOESN'T SWEAR EVERY FIVE WORDS." "Same. We should do this again sometime. Heh...If I can be honest, I was feeling like crap till this. It's nice to get lost in talk and forget about life for a while." "THE SOONER YOU CAN COME TO HOTLAND THEN THE BETTER. I THINK WE COULD USE EACH OTHER TO GET THROUGH THIS LIFE A LOT EASIER." "Not sure if I can. As you can guess, as a human, I'm on lockdown from really going anywhere." "AND THAT'S A PROBLEM BECAUSE...?" There's that vibe again. "Don't do whatever it is you're thinking about." "SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU. *FAKE STATIC* LOSING CONNECTION...*FAKE STATIC* SEE YOU SOON~." [CLICK] I glare at nothing and close the phone. "I'm gonna be abducted, I just know it. *sigh* Where is Liam Neeson when you need him?" Better get back to Grillby. I hate leaving him hanging because of some stupid emotional bullshit. But first...Make a backup plan in case of Mettaton creepiness. I reopen the phone and hit up my buddy. [RING-RING] "hello?" "Yo, Blooky. It's me." "L-Lynsie? is something wrong?" "Kind of. I just got a weird phone call and was hoping you'd keep on alert in case of something happening." "what happened?" "Mettaton called me." His side goes eerily quiet. "He is planning things. Doing things that are to get my attention. I believe his next course of action will either mean I'll be taken to Hotland or he may force me to travel there by threatening to expose my humanity. I wanted to inform you because I trust you, Blook-man. I have faith in you to help me when the time comes." Still, he's silent. "Napstablook?" "...he's always been like this." "What?" "...there's something I've been keeping to myself. no one else knows this. can you keep it a secret?" "Buddy, dude, this is me we're talking about. Nothing you tell me will ever leave me without a hell of a fight...or super torture. I'm only human after all." "*nervous* okay...*gulp* you see...Mettaton...he's my cousin." "...Ghost boy say what now?" "I know...it's his most secret of secrets. no one else knows except for that Alphys woman. she's the one that tempted him away with the promise of a 'perfect body'. damn bitch...we ghosts long for bodies. they allow us to feel alive again. but finding something that connects with us is easier said than done." Something clicks in my head. It was a while ago, but that moment stayed fresh due to how sad it was. "*cries* why did you go? you told me you wouldn't leave me behind...you said family sticks together...so why? why did you leave me all alone?!" Now it makes sense. Mettaton left him all alone and, based on how cherry Mettaton is now, he's not very concerned about breaking his promise to Napstablook. No wonder this poor spook hides away in the Ruins, home reminds of too much that he has no one. I need to help him. I want to fix this. "Napstablook..." "yeah?" "I'm getting that feeling when I'm gonna do something that might get me in trouble." "dare I ask what that dumb thing is?" "I'm thinking of running over to Waterfall and finding you so I can give you a hug that's been on hold for what feels like weeks but not really sure on how long." "...okay, that was kind of sweet. but for real, do not do that." "But if I did..." "please don't." "But if I did...What would be the fastest way that avoids being killed? Hypothetically speaking that is." "you're not listening to a thing I'm saying." "I am too." He sighs loudly with annoyed exhaustion. "can't believe the things you can make me do...I am only saying this because of Mettaton and I don't want something crazy to happen." "You're awesome, Blook-man." "just let me say this before I end up regretting it more than I already do." "Sorry." "see...there is a transport between Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland. if you take it, it will drop you off literally right outside from where my house is." I feel slightly pissed off about that. "Wait...So I could've been over there days ago? What the fuck, man?" "you told me not to get involved so I didn't say anything." I slap myself. "what was that?" "Realization hitting my face in the form of my hand. *groan* I'm my own worst enemy sometimes." "Lynsie...just please don't try to use it. if the royal guard is really keeping you and not turning you in, then running away is just going to piss them off." "I know, I know. I'm not going to do it. At least...Not as impulsively as I kind of feel like doing. I'm going to think things through before acting. Make a plan and all that jazz." "look at that. you're learning." "I try." "that's something, I guess." A sudden sound gets my attention. A door shutting. Better wrap this up. "I have to go, Blooky." "everything okay?" "Just life going on. I'll call again later." "alright. be careful, Lynsie." [CLICK] I quickly tuck the phone back in my pocket as Grillby's glow comes into view just a bit before he does. "Pussycat...?" "Hey there, boss. Sorry I'm doing so bad at this." He sighs with relief. "You're fine. I'm just glad to see you're feeling better." I get up and stretch. "Don't know what's up with my emotions lately. I've been so sensitive these last few days. It's freaking pissing me off really." "I might have a theory on why that is." "R-Really?" He waves me over and I oblige. "Remember when I told you about soul surges and how it's very typical of in monsters going through puberty?" No...Don't tell me something super humiliating and dumb is happening to me. Please, man, don't! "Y-Yeah?" "Well...When a monster goes through puberty, it's more than just their body, their magic does too. The soul begins to produce stronger magic and in higher quantities than in youth." "Grillz, please, don't tell me I'm going the 'change' again. Human puberty sucked enough to live through." He simply shrugs. "Again, it's just my guess. But based on what you told me, how your soul is getting used to being around magic and turning on old things in your DNA, it's likely that you are." I groan loudly and claw at my face. "It would explain the mood swings and sensitivity." I hate my life so much right now. "How long does this magic puberty last?" "Honestly? It varies from person to person. Could be weeks or even months. It all depends on how fast your soul takes to mature." My groan is even louder. "This is so much bullshit!" "Are you really telling me your 'mother' didn't tell you any of this?" I laugh at the idea of Toriel tell me about anything that sounds like I'm growing up. "Heheh...Nope. She told me nothing. She sees me as her 'child' and 'young one'. I would bet so much gold on her hiding any knowledge of the very concept of me 'maturing'." He smirks. "Sounds like she's not one to allow the birds to leave the nest so to speak." "Yeah. It's why she has me call her so often a day. But I don't mind. She has a bad history that she doesn't talk about, so...She's afraid the same mistake will happen again so she tries to prevent change." "That's understandable." "She also would like to have chat with you." That catches him off guard. "With me? Why?" I smirk. "Oh, no reason really. She just wants to get to know the nice guy that's letting me work in his lovely establishment. But no worries. Toriel is more intimidating than harmful." His eyes widen boldly. "T-Toriel? Your mother...the one down here...is the Queen?" I merely shrug. "So it would seem, my good man. Yet while she's Queen to you, all I see is my silly overprotective mum that can flip faster than a greasy light switch." I haven't seen much negative emotion on Grillby, just once and that was anger. But this? His breathing increases rapidly and his flames spark nervously. Is he having a panic attack? "Grillby?" "Don't make me talk to her!" Yep, this cool hot head is freaking out. "No one is making you do anything. So please, chill before you roast me. You're pumping out heat like a furnace." He fiddles around with his outfit, keeping his hands busy as a means to distract some part of his mind from the frightful thoughts it holds. "I...I can't believe it..." "What's that, boss?" "I can't believe I surged to the Queen's daughter." I blush with a smirk. "Ow. You wound me. You make it sound like a bad thing." He flinches and waves his hands in a small defensive panic. "N-No! No! I didn't mean it like that." I pat his shoulder. "Relax, Grillz. I'm only goofing." He sighs and leans on me. "You're going to be like this the whole time your soul is maturing, aren't you?" "Maybe." "..." "Grillby?" I feel his mouth press to my forehead. "Why are all the best people just a little bit crazy?" My mind blanks for a second. "Are...Are you really asking me or saying a rhetorical question?" He chuckles and moves off me. "Come, pussycat. There is still more to teach you before the clock times out." What just happened? Why was that funny? I'm so confused. "Sure, boss." I follow him back out into the bar and the few glances the patrons give me are either of fear or annoyance. I know not what Grillby did when I fled, but whatever it was, others are not liking this favoritism he's giving me. This instills a new mini-goal in my head. Keep this soul/emotion shit under control and do not bring attention to myself for the remainder of my time here. God, my life sucks. [Many hours later] "PICK UP THE PACE, SANS. DON'T THINK I CAN'T RECOGNIZE WHEN YOU START DRAGGING YOUR FEET." "geez, boss, ya sound like you actually wanna go there more than i do." "PLEASE. I MERELY WISH TO GET THIS DAY OVER WITH. IT JUST SO HAPPENS THAT WE MUST STOP THERE BEFORE WE CAN GO HOME." "yep. ain't life funny that way?" In all honesty, Sans wasn't looking forward to returning to the bar despite his joking attitude. The human was slowly making him want to keep away by just being there. Sure, confronting her about Grillby was a start and seeing those eyes of hers go from green to amber as her words got stronger. Made it hard not to believe those words. It's not like she wasn't right in the things she said. She wasn't using Grillby and, next to Sans himself, felt the most hurt seeing the barkeep dust away. Still, he didn't like it. He didn't like how nice they were to each other. He didn't like the flirting. He didn't like that they were closer than any monster and human should. It made him feel weird. And he hated feeling it. Papyrus opens the door to the pub and, aside from the faces that clearly fear or resent him, is met with a slightly warm welcome by the human. This facade does not fool the wise skeleton, no, not in the least. She may have his brother under the illusion of harmlessness, but not him. Just looking at her aroused all sorts of suspicion. If she was capable of breaking into their home than that's enough to have her thought of being capable of doing anything else. "That time already, gentlemen?" The fire elemental's pleasantries are cast aside by the larger brother. "SKIP THE FALSE CARE ACT, GRILLBY. YOU KNOW WHY I BOTHER COMING HERE." "Clearly not for the service." Snidely remarks the human while sweeping around the dog's poker table. "NO ONE ASKED YOU!" "but in a way, yes. we're taking your 'help', grillz." Grillby sighs. "Yeah, I know. Time to punch out, pussycat." She raises her brow playfully. "But I thought hitting was against the rules?" The bartender chuckles. "See you tomorrow, pussycat." She brings the broom behind the bar, shakes Grillby's hand, and moves to wait by the front door. "I SEE YOU HAVE IMPROVED HER LISTENING ABILITY." "She's not a pet, Papyrus." "I DISAGREE. BUT WHATEVER." "What is it that you want?" "WELL? HOW WAS SHE?" "Isn't that why you had Sans watch?" "DON'T BE DIFFICULT AND JUST SAY YOUR PEACE ALREADY." Grillby glares with a slight rumble. "Don't be a dick, Papyrus!" The human was butting in more than the skeleton liked. "IF YOU BARK ONE MORE TIME, I SWEAR, I SHALL THROW YOUR ASS OUT THAT WINDOW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BITCH?!" She waves Papyrus off dismissively and he snarls angrily. "Lynsie has been a source of great aid. I doubt you believe me, given how much you seem to dislike her. But maybe that's just because you feel inadequate about being able to handle her." Sans's sockets widen as the bar pretty much goes stunned and Papyrus is less than happy. "WHAT DID YOU JUST...?" "You're a smart man, Papyrus. But you lack skills to deal with people. More to the point...Skills with dealing with women." "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW, MY PEOPLE SKILLS ARE..." "Poor as shit!" "BITCH, DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!" "i think you're making his point, bro." "DON'T YOU START WITH ME, SANS." "To be fair, you do have to forgive pussycat for some of her words and behavior." "LIKE HELL I DO." "how come?" Grillby removes his glasses and huffs on them before wiping then putting them back on. "I had a little chat with her in private and we came to learn something. And since you boys are housing her, I think you should know about this." He waves the brothers in closer and they reluctantly oblige. "*hushed* Her soul is in the processes of maturing. Being down here is jump-starting her body's natural magic production. So she's a tad sensitive till it's over." Papyrus finds himself blushing whereas Sans is on the verge of a giggle fit. "*snickering* can you repeat that?" "Don't be a dick, Sans. No one goes through this well. Not even us." "*snickering* this is just too rich...i fucking love it." "SO...WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS...SHE'S VULNERABLE?" The grin on Papyrus has Grillby immediately regrets opening his mouth. "Forgive me, pussycat!" She looks puzzled before her eyes widen and her cheeks burn a flaring crimson in flustered realization. "You told them?!" "Lynsie, please..." She fumes, baring her teeth and seething into a chilling agitated calm. "You will pay dearly for this." She slams the door as she storms out and Grillby cringes with thoughts of the unknowns a moody woman is willing to unleash on him. One idea, in particular, makes the man of flame shiver with cold. "we should go after her." "DAMN, WOMAN. ALWAYS SUCH A PAIN." Papyrus follows the brooding human and Sans attempts to do the same, but Grillby's hand on his shoulder stops him. "huh?" "Sans...We need to talk." Sans blinks with uncertainty but nods slightly. "uh...sure." Sans sits down at the bar and orders a drink. This is going to take some time. "so...what do ya want to talk about? " Grillby looks uncomfortable and makes his voice low. "Sans...Do you know who is hurting her?" To that, the skeleton smirked. "you need to be a bit more specific than that." Grillby did not take this answer well. His hands slap the bar harshly, threatening to sear the gloss off the wood. "I am not playing around. I saw the bruises. Who is hurting her?" Mirth leaves Sans's skull as he drinks deep from his bottle of yellow condiment. "you wouldn't believe me even if i told you who it was." "Try me." Sans sighs, his fingers tap along the bottle. "let's just say...someone from my past has come back and taken an interest in her." Grillby doesn't like this either. But before he can voice his concerns Sans speaks up. "before you say it, no. his interest in her isn't the same as yours." Grillby's eyes widen a bit and his professional demeanor falters. "W-What? I don't know what you're talking about." Sans rolls his eyes. "look, it's kinda painfully obvious the two of you have this 'thing' with each other. and, if i'm being honest, i don't like it." "Sans..." "but...*huff* i ain't gonna be that asshole that gets involved in his buddy's private life. so...whatever." The barman smiles softly. "Thanks." "yeah, yeah, it's not like i care or some shit. just warning ya before you do something moronic by trying to get with her. bitches be crazy." That earns the skeleton a few dirty looks from the women in the bar, though some of the guys agree. "If that's the case...Are you willing to help me smooth things over with her?" Sans snorts a laugh that almost has the mustard shoot out his nasal opening. "are ya nuts? no way. you're the one that put your foot in your mouth." "She's not the kind of girl to try to get even, is she?" Sans could see this was making Grillby squirm. Part of him found it hilarious. The other part was starting to get hungry and knew Papyrus would be pissed if he wasn't there for dinner. Better get this over with soon. "don't know. but is she is, i'm willing to bet she wouldn't do anything spiteful or malicious. kid's all bark and weak bite. it's gonna get her killed one of these days." Grillby sighs with relief yet recalls something left unanswered. "This 'person from your past'...?" "i'm gonna stop ya right there." Sans downs the remains of the bottle with gusto. "i'm handling it. that's about all i'm at liberty to say. heh...i don't want her pissed at me too for saying things she tells me." To that Grillby felt odd. Of course Sans would know things no one else would about the human. She lives at his house and is easier to get along with than his brother. Still, a small ember of envy burns in him for knowing of this. What things could she have shared with Sans yet not him? How much trust would he need to earn for her to have that much faith in him as well? Sans is a lucky man indeed. "well...i better get going. pap might not handle her new moodiness well if on his own." "Wait! One last question." "okay. what is it?" "Do...Do I have anything to worry about with her 'mother'?" The question and Grillby's nervousness are random but interesting to Sans. "she's told you about her old lady?" Gribbly merely nods. "in my opinion...ya got nothing to worry about. she never leaves the ruins. though...i can't say she won't break that self-enforced rule if something were to happen to her kid. know what i mean?" Grillby nods again as Sans hops off his stool and puts down a small amount of gold. However... "You're short, Sans." Oddly enough, that made the skeleton snarl. "i ain't fucking short!" He really wasn't, 5'4" isn't what most would call short. But when living in a town where just about everyone, including your younger brother but not counting kids and slimes for obvious reasons, is over six feet, it's no surprise it leaves a pretty big chip on your shoulder. If anything, the only thing short about Sans was his temper when called that. Though that too was short lived when met with Grillby's annoyed glare. "I meant the amount, Sans." Nervous chuckles leave the bonehead. "right, my bad. it's all i got on me." To make his point, he pulls the empty insides of his pockets out and small lint bits fall. Grillby shakes his head disapprovingly. "hey, no need for that look. you know i'm good for it. just put it on my tab." A perturbed groan leaves the barman as Sans makes his leave. One of these days Grillby is going to call that tab in full and both men will be sorry. [Meanwhile: Sans & Papyrus's house] Papyrus didn't have far to go to catch up with the human. She was making a beeline for the house and seemed to know he was following since left the door open for him to enter when she kicked it in. What harsh reprimanding he was going to roar at her died in his nonexistent throat when he caught the full strength of her icy glare as she headed for the stairs. "Do not start with..." She pauses to take a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I am not myself. Please allow me to calm down before I end up doing something regrettable." Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to get in her face and pummel her face into the floor till it was nothing more than a stain on the floor. There were only two reasons he wasn't going to do that for. One, he didn't feel like wasting time cleaning bloody bits out of the carpet. And two, if what Grillby said is true, then her odd behavior as of late was more understandable. The Ruins were said to be abandoned or in the least home to a few monsters that couldn't take being around the majority, so the concentration of magic within must be very weak as opposed to out here in Snowdin with it's higher population of monsters. Soul maturing is an odd and uncomfortable stage. Even the mighty Papyrus went through it with less grace than he'd care to tell. Full of angst, rebellion, and pent up unknown feelings, with a need to just lock himself away because he felt like no one understood what he was going through. Ah, the silliness of youth. Knowing this, the great and terrible Papyrus relents...for now. "FINE." That was all that needed to be said. She nods and ascends the stairs, taking retreat to the bathroom. "Rough day?" The flower speaks up but Papyrus ignores it. He tended to do that as much as possible. He didn't know why exactly. There was just something in the back of his skull that made him distrusting of the floral fellow. Like a memory that was blurry but you still got a feeling from even if you're not sure it's real. He is about to shut the door just as Sans makes his way into view. "sup." Papyrus just motions him to enter and locks the door by the time he does. "dare i ask...?" "UPSTAIRS." "ah. and do you know...?" "NO. I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S DOING AND I DON'T CARE SO LONG AS NOTHING IS DAMAGED." Typical Papyrus. "you really think she'd be stupid enough to break something of ours?" "YOUR STUFF IS NOT MY CONCERN. SHE CAN BREAK THAT JUNK FOR ALL I CARE." "gee. thanks, bro." "Is anyone going to let me know what happened?" The flower chimes in again. And again Papyrus ignores it as he heads to his room. Sans kicks his shoes off and tosses his jacket over the sentient plant. "don't worry about it, weed. if you were meant to know, we'd tell ya." Flowey shakes the jacket off and glares as Sans too heads to his room, but not before knocking on the bathroom door. "you alright in there?" Nothing is heard other than the shower. "hey, ya don't have to worry. pap and i aren't gonna mess with you...much." Still nothing. "fine, baby soul, be like that. just don't come crying to me when you feel bad. i mean that literally. i ain't helping you." He starts to walk but then stops. "oh! and don't forget, you're making dinner. pap only let that slide because you were practically dead. so don't get any ideas thinking you can get out of it." "Did you just really say that?!" Shouted not her but the flower. "the hell is your problem?" "Did you really just insinuate she'd harm herself?" "i dunno...maybe?" "You can't say that kind of stuff to her!" "why not?" Flowey just stares at the skeleton oddly before realization clicks. "You...You don't know how she came to the Underground, do you?" This had Sans's attention. "she told me that she fell." Flowey becomes uneasy. He produces several vines and, rather impressively, repels himself up to the banister where he swings through the railing to plant his pot on the floor. "wow. a plant that parkours. see something new every day." "I'm not comfortable telling you this, seeing as she hasn't and I don't think it's my place, but I can't let you say idiotic things like that." Sans kneels down imposingly. "okay, weed, you have intrigued me. if she didn't fall, then how did she get here?" Flowey rubs his leaves nervously. "Well...Falling is how she came to the Underground. But...She didn't fall from an accident." If color could drain from a skull it would be doing so for Sans. "you're telling me she..." "She fell on purpose. She...was trying to die." Flowey shirks inward, not liking this subject and feeling like he's broken some bond of trust. "I don't know about her life on the surface. She doesn't tell anyone about that stuff, not even Mom. But I have been with her since the start and I can tell...Under all that toughness and pass the goofy dork innards...She's very sad deep down." A new expression comes to Sans, a look of reverence and understanding. The human put up with a lot being down here and more for just being with the brothers. But she never seemed to be like what the flower had said. How bad was the surface to drive her to end it all and yet want to live down here? "Um...You won't tell her I said anything, will you?" Sans's thoughts broke yet kept him a bit cloudy, hearing only bits and pieces of what Flowey said. "huh? oh...no. i ain't opening my yap about this." Flowey sighs with relief until the sounds in the bathroom are less water based and more like someone getting ready to come out. In a panic of getting busted, Flowey throws Sans under the proverbial and shoves the skeleton into the door before repelling back to the table on which he stays. Obviously pissed about this, Sans growls and aims to go pluck every petal from the flower's head. Yet before he can even get off his bony butt the door to the bathroom opens to give him a bit of a bop that wasn't all that hard. Understandably, the confused human in a towel peeking halfway out the door. "Sans?" Sans gave her one look before he turned away trying hard not to blush, grateful that the cloth was long enough to cover her form. Though his behavior gave her the impression of something bad happening. "Are you okay? Oh shit, I didn't hit you, did I? I'm so sorry. I didn't know..." "i'm fine. just stumbled is all. now go put something on, will ya? i can't deal with ya when like that." Recalling the last incident that was bathroom related, she pulls the towel up more and goes back inside. "My bad." He rubs his skull. "it's fine. you were just concerned." He picks himself off the floor and tries to regain his cool. "So I was thinking...How does some comfort food sound?" "depends. what ya thinking?" "Tomato soup and grilled cheese. Provided we have that stuff." "...yeah, we got that. i did some 'shopping' earlier." "Sweet. Thanks, buddy." The door opens moments later. "Will Pap be okay with such a menu? Do I need to brace myself for impact once he knows?" "if it was other soup than yeah. he's got a thing for the tomato stuff." "So I've noticed." He looks her up and down, nothing is different besides the towel wrapped around her hair. "What?" "you're wearing the same thing you had on." "I'm limited in my clothes here. It's not like I can go across the street to Nanny and change. The other outfit I got is in need of washing but I don't trust Pap not to trash or burn it just to piss me off." "seems legit." She goes to walk past him and what the flower told him has him feeling guilty. "hey..." She stops at the top of the stairs. "Yeah?" His jaw clenches, words struggling to form as he determines if he should say something or not. "i...i didn't...that stuff i said..." "Dude, chill, we're cool. Don't stress over it." Is she forgiving him so easily? "we are?" "Yeah. I'd probably say that stuff too if someone was getting close to my buddy too. But that just shows how good of a friend you are. I respect that." Sans felt dumbstruck. Did she not hear him at all? Fuck it! Roll with it. "y-yeah. thanks. i was just being cautious is all." "I get it. That's why we're cool. You don't want to see him hurt. I don't want to hurt him. That's why we're just friends. No rushing into unknown territory here. That's for sure. Not with this damn thing being so unstable." She points to her chest and, while he knows she means her soul, he sees a joke opportunity. "yeah...with a set of knockers that big, i can imagine it being hard to stable." His grin is cocky and the only clue that has her realizing what just happened. Her expression goes from puzzled to sly snickering when she gets the joke. "Ah yes, these annoying chest bags. Hard to miss such large targets. Good jab, my friend." She took the punches and merely walks off downstairs to get cooking. That had him feeling a little off. Normally she would at least give him a quick quip back. Maybe she was in a bad mood under all that nice. He rolls his shoulders and goes to his room. She'll let them know when dinner is ready anyway. "Lynsie? Are you okay?" Flowey comes into the kitchen, he sets himself on the counter beside me as I butter bread while the pan heats up and a pot of soup warms. "Yeah, I'm fine. Got to chat with Toriel today." "Oh? How is she?" "Missing us. She even tempted me with my favorite meal." "Low blow." "Did make me wanna go though. Not gonna lie. That sew is the bomb." "What are you? A cheesy 90's character?" "Word, yo. I'm super funky fresh to the max." He shakes his head in disappointment but his giggling says otherwise. "But for real...Did anything happen today? You came home upset." I sigh. "I'm going through magic puberty. That's as blunt as I can possibly be about it." I can almost hear the gears in his head grind while I add some milk to the soup. "...What?" "From what I understand, my soul's starting to produce magic to match my body's age and it's something that can influence my emotional state. *groans* Just like when I was twelve going on thirteen. Nothing like the last day of sixth grade to be welcomed into the wacky world of womanhood." "...Is puberty really that bad?" "It sucks for everyone, boy or girl. It's only different for each gender. With us girl humans, we know when we hit our moment when we suddenly gain weight fairly quickly. Then our chests begin to store fat, aka, make these annoying things. Depending on genetics, other parts store fat too. Our growth rate slows down. Hormones start changing things on the inside that affect the outside to the point where you can become a completely different person to anyone that knows you. And then there's a thing I'm not even going to mention because I'm making food right now but will allude to it being gross as hell." He cringes as I put the sandwiches into the pan, making a loud sizzling hiss. "That sounds awful." "It is. But we all have to go through it and learn to deal with it. Because no enemy is greater in this world than yourself. Yet if you can tame yourself than that enemy becomes your greatest ally." One hand of mine holds a spatula to flip the sandwiches and the other a long spoon that keeps stirring the soup. "So it gets better eventually?" "Kind of. But you hardly notice any of this after enough time passes." "Growing up sounds like a pain." "All I can say is this...Enjoy youth to the fullest. You don't have to give up being a kid when you grow up, but it does get turned down a bit. Back on the surface, I still have toys. I have video games and comic books. Sure, I don't play with them as often as I used to. But just seeing or holding them feels good. Let's me know the happiness I once had can never truly die." The mood gets a bit somber as I flip the sandwiches and restart that sizzling hiss. "Flowey..." "Yeah?" "Can I have a hug?" He jerks a little in surprise. "Where did that come from?" "Just feel like I want one. If that's okay?" He closes himself off and I know I asked too much. I focus on my cooking, turning the burners off when the soup begins to bubble and the sandwiches are a lovely golden hue. I go about covering the food to keep it hot as I head out into the living room. "Yo, bone-boys! Food's ready!" It takes a few seconds to hear Sans pop into the kitchen while it takes a moment or two for Papyrus to appear at his door. "Evening, Papyrus." "HUMAN." He heads down the stairs as I enter the kitchen and Sans comes out with a sandwich in his teeth. "Gooey enough for you?" He nods in content while dunking the sandwich into a mug of soup. "WHAT TRAVISTY HAVE YOU BROUGHT ABOUT MY KITCH WITH THIS TIME?" Feeling funny, I get hammy. "Forsooth, my lord of bone. I present thee with broth made from the berry of nightshade. And bread, grilled gold that has hidden within the finest viscus form of bovine lactation." Papyrus stares at me funny before looking at Sans. "THE FUCK DID SHE JUST SAY?" "tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches." "OH. THAT'S NOT SO BAD." "I thank thou." He flicks my forehead. "NO. BAD HUMAN. STOP THAT." I snicker. "Shall I serve you or..." "I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF GETTING MY OWN." "Of course. I merely just wanted to treat you after a hard day's work. Unless, of course, that's just part of my evil plan to lull you into a false sense of security. Oooooh." I tease and he glares at me hard before do so to Sans. "YOU TOLD HER, DIDN'T YOU?" "she ain't a threat and ya know it." "SHE IS NOW!" "the worst she can do is annoy us." "YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" "Master..." Papyrus flinches. "How can I prove to you that I mean you and your brother no harm?" "YOU CAN'T." [You give Papyrus the puppy dog eyes of guilt.] He backs up a bit. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" [You keep doing it.] He sweats a little. "S-STOP THAT." [You strengthen the look.] He looks to Sans but his brother is enjoying every moment. "MAKE HER STOP!" "why? she ain't hurting nobody." [You are determined to make him understand.] [It works...Papyrus gives in...but only so you'll stop.] "FINE! YOU'RE NOT A THREAT! NOW STOP MAKING THAT LOOK!" I smile and bow. "That is the extent of my power. I am now powerless since my secret is revealed. Congratulations!" He shoves past me and Sans laughs. "dinner and a show. today just gets better and better." I follow Papyrus in to take Flowey back to his table and he leaves the kitchen with his food as I get Flowey's portion before my own. "So..." I sit down with Flowey away from the one skeleton looking to kick my ass. "Will I be sleeping in the shed tonight? Because if so, a blanket would be very appreciated." "i'm fine with ya being indoors. pap, your thoughts?" Papyrus snarls while chewing. "he didn't say no." Papyrus gulps down his mouthful. "YOU DO NOT TALK FOR ME...BUT HE ISN'T WRONG." "Really?" "whoa. you said i'm right? i think hell froze over." "*GROAN* WHILE I AM NOT ALLOWING YOU TO BE INDOORS BECAUSE OF SOME SYMPAHTIC REASONS. I AM ONLY ALLOWING YOU TO BE INDOORS BECAUSE, AS A PROPER PET OWNER, IT WOULD BE A BLACK MARK ON MY RECORD TO HAVE YOU DIE DUE TO SOMETHING SO STUPID AS BEING COLD. THAT'S ALL." "Awe...You do care." "ONE OF THESE DAYS, I WILL SMOTHER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP." "Papyrus, you don't have to add icing to this cake. It's already sweet enough." "...ARE YOU SURE WE CAN'T HANDLE THE QUEEN IF WE KILL HER?" "bro, even asgore had trouble dealing with tori and that's his wife." Papyrus growls in reluctant agreement. The night continues on with us watching Mettaton on TV. Thankfully, it's one of his movies and nothing weird. Though it's not like his movies aren't odd sometimes. Mettaton seems to make a lot of action, thriller, horror, and psychological type films. Not bad stuff really. Though the CGI human that normally is a villain character is cliché and lackluster in character personality, merely filling the bad role. He needs help writing his scripts. Eventually Papyrus heads off to bed, Flowey nods off, and Sans lazily comes out of the kitchen sipping on mustard. "You headed for bed too, bone-boy?" "yeah. *yawn* don't stay up too late." "I know. I got work too now." "oh...i meant because pap will bitch about the light and noise. but that too." I watch him shuffle towards the stairs. "Sans..." "huh?" I feel unsure if I should mention Mettaton to him or not. Sans is someone I trust. But even he has trouble trusting me back. "Sleep well." I'm such a coward. "you too, kiddo." I mentally punch myself for that. He heads to his room and I shut the TV off once he's gone. With not much else to do, since all my doable chores are already complete and the other are not good to do while they sleep, I give in to the night. I lay down on the couch for some shuteye. Maybe things will be okay in the morning. Hopefully I'm wrong about Mettaton doing something to force me to Hotland. I doubt it though, as when my gut feels this twisted I tend to be right. Maybe these thoughts won't mess with my dreams. If I'm allowed to dream that is. Gaster should need time to go over what he learned last night. A shiver racks my spine at the memory. And then another because I still don't have a blanket. Nice one.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #flowey #Asriel #toriel #asgore #chara #frisk #mettaton #napstablook #alphys #undyne

4 notes · View notes

cherettes · 6 years

Text

the hitchhiker’s guide to getting shit done

so, when i’m lounging about and then my laptop screen blacks out to reveal my shame-filled reflection in an inky black pool of you-sat-down-to-write-and-now-you-haven’t-moved-for-twenty-minutes, my expression looks to itself and seems to mutter, “put up or shut up.” and... sometimes that works. other times I have to leave and pour a water bottle over my head and turn on Fall Out Boy really loud to try and motivate myself. sometimes that doesn’t even work and then i’m cold and tired for no reason.

i see these posts all the time about “calling yourself a writer when u ain’t touched a pen in ya life” or “man i love being a writer... should would like to write someday” and stuff. they’re all so fucking relatable i’m making a sticker out of one to put on my laptop. it’s all so true.

sometimes (an unfortunate amount of the time), writing can be like putting a space shuttle on your shoulders. so... as someone with a backpack full of executive dysfunction and 8 other textbooks, here’s how i get writing done -- even on the worst days.

okay firstly always have something to write with. notepad on your phone? cool. handy journal? trendy. legal pad in your front pocket? very Daniel Handler. i dig it. just as long as you have something to be able to scribble on whenever those finite, golden moments of inspiration/motivation hit you like Valentine’s goddamn arrow. the second you notice the motivation is there, it’ll be gone, so don’t be afraid to get shit done (no matter how small, no matter if it’s one thought or one sentence, just a thought or an idea) while you can. i deadass stopped a meeting with a financial aid officer because something he said hit me like a tonne of bricks, and all i could think was “oh jesus, i have to write that down.” and then i couldn’t stop. i knew if i didn’t get everything down right then, i wouldn’t be able to maybe ever, which wasn’t a fate I particularly wanted for myself.

he was kind about it, thankfully. i didn’t even end up going to that school.

what you can do with your notes is separate them by any category you like -- i keep my notes separate by POV, for example. also, title the note. don’t forget that part. it’s the only way you’ll know what the fuck’s going on. i keep one note for all my story ideas (it’s about 11 miles long, but at least they’re all in one place!), one note for character names/traits/tropes/ideas... and then drafts are separated by POV. it literally doesn’t matter when or where I get the inspiration, as long as I’m able to get something, anything, down... you’ve done something. you’ve put your foot on the next stair step, and while lifting your weight’s the hardest part, you’ve still made progress.

you don’t need to have it so fleshed out you can fork it like a steak. you can take time to develop it. the more you practice and absorb the world around you as things you can output into your own universes, the better a writer you become. this leads me to my next point.

secondly, and this is so fucking important, absorb content like a writer. as you watch something for the first time, critically analyze it. why is the story being told this way, why from this POV, why these details and not others, where could this be going? what would you have done as a writer here, why do you think the creator/s made these decisions (differently than you would, if at all)? authors don’t do anything without purpose, so how can what i’ve seen and learned thus far tell me about the future of this story? what tropes am I familiar with that can be applied here, and what do I know about these characters?

Why are these characters this way? Are they fleshed out, can I hold mental conversations with them? What makes them so 3-D? What can I take from this depth (or lack thereof) and apply it to my own creations?

I’ve been doing that shit for so long. The reason it helps me actually sit down and write, though, is because... okay, like, you know when you leave a pitch-black movie theatre after seeing a production that poked and prodded at your guts a little to hard? you know how blinding and unnerving it is to return to this reality? that feeling. poke and prod at it harder. why are you feeling like that? what about what you just saw/read/whatever is making you feel so skinless? because that’s material.

i’m not telling you to, like, exploit yourself for content. that’s not what it’s about. i’m saying that if you take realistic depth from your own life, from things that are impactful, you need to understand what happened to make it so impactful and genuine. every grain of rice. that way you can take it and apply that very same authenticity to whatever you’re creating. give yourself familiar language to write down when you have those experiences, and then return to them when you’re lost in the sticky pitch of writer’s apathy. relive those words and moments, and use them for your gain.

my roommate planted me on the sofa to watch Coco for the first time a few months ago, and I sat there and told myself, “I’m going to dissect this as it happens.” and do it with everything. everything. commercials, even. it doesn’t matter without that tactic, i would have never 1) come up with the ideas for my first two novels and 2) had something to work with from the beginning. world-building is fucking hard, okay, don’t be afraid to draw inspiration from other places. it was also particularly fun to watch their face as I guessed plot twists.

that’s another thing -- you can start to see why/how creators implement their ideas and what it means for the future of their story. it doesn’t mean they’re being shallow or predictable, it just means they’re developing an arc in a way that allows readers and viewers to be able to inject themselves into the universe. You’re no longer sitting in a living room and just... watching a separate life play out before you. You like... become Miguel’s meta-conscience. And with those new experiences in someone else’s reality/ies, you can pull it like a blood sample for your own. there’s no shame in being inspired.

as a side note... there’s no shame in struggling to pull ideas/inspiration from content. for me, barely anything gets me worked up to the point of “i want to remember this/use this/etc.” it’s not the content’s fault and it’s not my fault, it just happens. if you’re really struggling, return to something you know evokes something out of you. i’ve watched the same television series eleven or twelve times to pull ideas, because it gets me every time. every time, i find something new to hang on to. content can be analyzed endlessly, so don’t be afraid!

thirdly, don’t pay attention to progress that others make. can’t stress that enough. this day and age treats everything like a competition, where if you’re not the best then why try at all, where the success of others is somehow inherently your failure. it’s such bullshit i can’t even begin. having a multitude of societal deterrents in your head isn’t helping you.

sure, habits don’t go quietly into that good night, but here’s how it can help you... well, as my brain is helpfully supplying, “keep the stork flying.” it’s like a blinking neon sign. anyway.

one, return to your notes and your ideas. they’re all your own. no one can take them from you. you’re the only one who can develop them the way that you intend, with the way you want to tell the story, with the meaning that you’ve given them and want to portray. you’re the only one who can do that. even if your friends or family or peers are writers and they’re making the progress that you feel like you’re lacking, then just remember: you’re the only one who can write your story. it’s yours. it’s yours. if you’re not ready to write it, that’s okay. that’s okay. but if you are, if you want to sit down and write it more than anything else, then you can return to your notes. always look back at them. and build on what you have.

if you’ve juiced them to pulp, reflect on what happens before and after what you’ve written. nothing has to be linear, it doesn’t have to be directly before and after. if you intend for a moment you’ve created to have a specific impact at any other given point, then elaborate on what impact it’ll have and maybe draft that. fill in the gaps when you want to, not when you’re forcing yourself to. if you do that, you won’t produce anything you’re proud of, and you’ll inevitably start over anyway. if you’re not ready to give it everything, then maybe come back to it later. if you’re determined to write right now even if your brain feels like it’s just crawled out of a swamp wearing a wet blanket, see if you can turn that feeling into something that can be reflected/have influence on your story. is there any situation that could reflect the mood you’re in?

two, it... man, saying this makes me hurt, but use your own experience with being discouraged and put off as inspiration for something a character faces. who cares if it’s self projection. if you’re going through it, someone else is going through it, and maybe they’ll read what was originally a chicken-scratch in the back of your notebook one day, about how shitty you feel for not being able to make progress. maybe they’ll read it and be so fucking relieved they’re not alone in this... void, really, that it alleviates their discomfort. isn’t that kinda worth it?

fourthly, when you feel like shit, write it down. when you feel it, write it down. i know i kind of chipped off layers of this in previous points, but I wasn’t done.

people like relatable characters. people like seeing themselves in external works. not because we’re shallow, or... anything. it’s because we like to feel like we belong, like we’re not alone. you see it all the time -- headcanons! you see it everywhere. you’ve probably made up your own. you’re doing it for a damn reason. pull from it.

exhibit a: i have OCD something foul. a facet of that is that i ruminate like a motherfucker. my brain never gets anything done. you know who else experiences that? a startling amount of other people. when I write characters who ruminate, who check endlessly, who find themselves scrabbling over contamination, who... are completely aware how exhaustive their habits are on them, but they fucking have to, because otherwise, x/y/z horrible, horrible thing is going to happen... it’s because i’ve dealt with those things. it’s because i know people who deal with those things, and find relief in seeing fictional characters experience it. because they’re not alone. because someone else gets it. because it helps them feel better. because it’s so immeasurably impactful to see it.

so when... i have a thought spiral, i start ruminating, i start shaking because i try to only lock my car door three times instead of four, i write it down. and let myself deal with it in the notepad of my phone. and... use it.

exhibit b: some of the greatest and brightest people in my life are transgender and/or gay. i can list so many characters they’ve since penned on those spectrums in the time I’ve known each of them. it’s the same thing i mentioned before. if you’re... like, struggling with something specific to those identities, to something specific with your mental illness or financial situation, to your race or religion, write it down. use it in your stories. only you can provide those insights, and when others see them, they’ll be able to take them in for benefit.

self-projection unto your own characters/favorite characters isn’t always a bad thing. i refuse to accept that self-projection is a negative thing. it’s good for you and for your readers. my only recommendation here is that you don’t intentionally continue to carve out those negative feelings when you’re drained, because you can end up hurting yourself. take care of yourself first. your work can wait. just take this:

standing closer to the fire doesn’t mean you should be burned.

fifth, writing is just a slow ass process. asking to speed it up is like asking the earth to spin faster. Stephen King said some bullshit on Colbert about how he writes a shit tonne of words every day, and I don’t believe it for a second. it always takes a horrid amount of time to make progress, and getting yourself to make that process in the first place is... fucking drawing blood from a stone. like some Excalibur-level shit.

so, if you can’t make it go faster, make it go for longer.

i wish i was talking about just having Google Docs open in a tab while you idly scroll social media sites all night. if writing happened that way... i don’t even want to dream it.

i used to do this thing where everyday was 500 words. it didn’t matter what kind of words (rough drafting, planning, or actually revising... sometimes literally just “i know i want to use this word later, so i’m putting it at the bottom of the document”), but as long as there was 500 more to count, i could count that as definable and measurable progress. if i did that every single day, every week was a new 3500 words for me to work with. that made at least 14,000 words a month minimum. it was progress.

it doesn’t have to be rushed or done all in one sitting, either. i almost recommend that none of those 500 words be your final draft. leave it rough. revision is worth taking your time.

if you’re like me though and that sweet, sweet executive function bakes you like a cake on a regular basis, sometimes forcing that 500 out of yourself is hard (read: “fucking impossible, why do i even call myself a writer, jesus christ”).

so here’s my remedy for that: address your audience as you write. not for a final draft or anything, but if you make yourself as a writer or a character break the fourth wall, it’s suddenly... kind of hilarious and easier to move on with. nothing has to be beautiful, either -- write one sentence about what you’re planning to do, beginning with something ridiculous like “all right motherfuckers, buckle up. no, buckle your fucking seat belt, i’m about to tell you how [x]’s car gets totaled on a Tennessee highway.” and write it like you’re ripping someone a new one. then make it pretty. maybe not in the same day, but you’ll make it pretty.

that not working? make your character tell the future. how would they react if they knew what was about to happen to them? make them tell the story like it happened 20 years ago, or something. and then take out all the insights to make it present.

that not working, either? act like you’re being interviewed. like, let’s say your content is soon to be released to the public, you’re at a convention to promote it, and people are asking you about it as you stand at your booth. suddenly, you’re pulling a Tom Holland and accidentally giving something away that... maybe wasn’t supposed to be out yet. only write your part of the dialogue/situation, though. you’ll have a scene scribbled before you. even if you don’t particularly like it right then, you can fix it later. it’s okay.

you can always fix it down the road. that’s the thing, too -- if there’s something you’re unhappy with in it’s current form, make it a problem for yourself. if you’re able to attach some urgency to it, maybe that’ll help too. you don’t have to have the one perfect solution immediately, either. just brainstorm solutions in your notes, and something will fall into place one of these days. trust me.

on a side note but equally important: i say used to do this because sometimes you need to take breaks. sometimes those 500 words everyday was overdoing it and wringing the dry sponge of my mental capacity for the day. it’s still a practice i hold dear to my heart -- but right now i’m in a place where 50 words a day is miraculous. sometimes life’s that way, and there’s no shame in that. take care of yourself first, and push yourself when you’re ready.

also, be your own devil’s advocate and your own greatest cheerleader.

don’t let yourself think poorly about what you’re creating, that’s not what I mean. you have great ideas and they’re worthwhile, they’re important. they are. i promise. what i mean is that... like. if being talked to in an aggressive way gets you hyped, then that’s how you get hyped to write. if you like being given generous validation, then that’s how you get hyped to write.

me, i like it when people validate what i work on. it makes me feel excited and good enough to write and produce content when people tell me they like it. some people have to be told they “can’t do something” to find the drive to do it -- that’s the “devil’s advocate” part. sometimes you’re the kind of person who can give yourself those messages but have to receive the positive kind from others.

i always imagine my ideal self on the other side of a boxing ring taunting me, my current self, that i’ll never get to my ideal-self’s level. they tell me to “put up or shut up,” otherwise i’ll never get there. so that’s what i have to do. i can’t have anyone else do that, though. that’s just an example.

there’s a billion rearrangements of this idea to make it work for you. maybe giving yourself encouragement -- or, like, imagining it coming from someone you deeply admire -- could help. maybe it’s the reverse situation, with the reproach. once you find it... fucking squeeze it until it’s not helpful anymore. if it’s not helpful in the first place, then you haven’t found the right language yet. if words don’t help you at all, work on your bite instead of the bark. what actions get you going instead of words?

and maybe this tip is completely meaningless for you. that’s okay too. i just figured i would include it because it helps me, so maybe... it’ll help someone else, too.

maybe lastly... do you know how many creators quit working on their content and made unbidden returns to it? Jordan Peele wasn’t sure Get Out would ever be finished because he quit working on it 20 times, and now he’s got an Oscar for it. James Patterson is a worldwide bestselling author, and he dropped out of Vanderbilt’s writing program. JK Rowling was famously rejected by a dozen-or-so agencies before someone gave Sorcerer’s Stone a chance. you can fucking do this. i believe in you, even if you don’t. it’s gonna take time and maybe it’s gonna suck, but you can do this.

like, maybe this guide wasn’t helpful in the slightest. that’s fine. it happens! if that’s the case and you need encouragement or anything, you can always hit me up, too. i’ll listen and offer what i can, because sometimes having a shoulder is what you need, too.

take it from someone who ended up backing out of a book deal at Harper Collins. you can do this.

#writing tip #tips for writers #writer's block #writing help #writing inspiration #inspiration #ideas #help for writers #writing tips

39 notes · View notes