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chloelucia13 · 3 years

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Chapter 16: The Sauna Test

Pairing: Jonathan Byers x Henderson!reader

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter summary: Eleven, Max, Nancy, and Jonathan had all grown more suspicious of you and Billy after what El and Max had seen, but when everyone gets separated, the monster decides to rear its ugly head in more ways than one.

Word Count: 3352

Warnings: some angst, some fluff, some action finally (in more ways than one!!), a lil bit of cheating, language, pretty normal stuff

A/N: And we're finally getting somewhere with the Jonathan and reader plot line!!! I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and as always, my ask box and requests and tag lists are open babies! Love ya!

Tags: @just-my-fandom @nightbu-g

El couldn't let go of what she'd seen.

You being with Billy was weird enough and its strangeness had already burrowed under her skin, making her squirm. But the way you were acting, what she had seen that night when she was messing around, it wasn't right.

But what she had seen of Heather had made her downright disturbed. Sure, Billy was an asshole and she knew not to be around him, but he wasn't a murderer... right?

"Hey, there's nothing to worry about anymore, okay?" Max told her, noticing the way that El had gotten lost in her worried thoughts.

El gave her a doubtful look and let out a huff. "It doesn't make sense," she grumbled.

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Heather. The blood. The ice... Y/N."

"Heather had a fever, so she took a cold bath, but she's better now. And Y/N is probably trying to make Billy a better person or something. That has to be it. I don't know where that blood came from, but... we saw her. We saw them both. They're totally fine."

El stared at the wall, her brows furrowed. "What about Billy?"

"What about him?"

"He seemed wrong."

Max chuckled. "Wrong is kind of like his default. But it's nice to know he's not a murderer, because that totally would've sucked. Hell, maybe he seemed different because Y/N's making him better."

The two girls chuckled, and the conversation fell silent.

***

As soon as panicked panting sounded in the next room, Heather rose to her feet and walked over to the two people you held captive. Heather's parents.

You and Billy watched from afar as she spoke to her father, neglecting his pleas before stepping away and allowing you and Billy to replace her spot. Billy knelt in front of Janet as you knelt in front of Tom, both of you instructing them to stay still.

Simultaneously, you both rose to your feet and the three of you walked up the metal stairs. As you ascended the stairs, you could hear their pleas become drowned out by the guttural growls and snarls.

***

The next morning, you had awoke with a heavy pit in your stomach.

The image of Heather's overtaking was still etched behind your eyelids, and though you hadn't witnessed the other overtakings, you imagined that they occurred very similarly.

But the screams. You could never ignore the screams.

Silently, you slipped out of your bed and walked into the kitchen, pulling the freezer open and staring blankly.

The pint of strawberry ice cream from Scoops still sat there, perfectly untouched.

God, you wanted to sob. You wanted to scream. You wanted to go back to when your life was normal- well, more normal than this. Than being fucking possessed by this strange creature who was dragging you through hell.

You wanted to see your brother and his friends again. You wanted to see your friends again. Steve and Robin and Nancy and Jonathan.

Jonathan.

You were mentally kicking yourself, realizing that you spent the past six months avoiding him and now you don't know if you'll ever see him again.

You closed the freezer and scrubbed at your face, only to realize that tears had soaked your cheeks. Quickly, you swiped away the tears and rushed back to your room, not wanting to risk getting caught by your mother and having that creature take over once more.

After locking the door behind you, you curled up on your bed and pulled the blankets over your body. Maybe if you slept, you wouldn't have to deal with all this pain and guilt.

Just as you were drifting off, the doorbell rang. Immediately, your anxiety shot through the roof, and you contemplated not answering the door, but then the doorbell rang once more. You took deep breaths and slowly creeped out of bed, unlocking your door and leaving your room before stepping up to the front door.

Peering through the peephole, your heart sunk to your feet when you saw who was outside. Jonathan stood there awkwardly, his head bowed and his hands in his pockets.

You began to slowly walk away from the door when Jonathan began to speak, his voice traveling into the house. "Y/N?" he called out. "Are you home? I drove by the pool and you weren't there. I just... I was wondering if we could talk?" He sounded stressed, maybe even upset.

Your emotions took over, and against your better judgement, you pulled the door open. You watched as his eyebrows rose in surprise at the fact that you actually opened the door. "What's wrong?" you hummed. "I thought you had work today."

He chuckled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's uh... That's part of the issue," he coughed out. "Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping to the side and allowing him to come inside before you shut the door behind him. Afterwards, you stepped next to him and the two of sat down on the couch. "So, what's going on?"

"I got fired. Well, Nancy and I got fired."

Your brows knitted together in confusion. "Fired? How? I thought you were doing amazing at the post!" You tucked your legs under yourself and turned to face him directly.

"I was, and I really liked it there! But..." He let out a sigh. "Nancy had answered a call a few days ago from this old woman, saying that all of her fertilizer was going missing."

Sounds like a newsworthy story," you teased.

"Hey, it's serious!"

You held up your hands in surrender, but a giggle slipped past your lips. "Sorry, sorry. Continue."

He let out a playful huff, a smile cracking at the corners of his mouth. "Anyway, she realized that the fertilizer was going missing because there were rats in her basement that were eating it and the rats... They were getting sick, or something." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Nancy and I went to investigate, and we didn't ask any of the higher ups because we knew that they would tell us that it was stupid. We went, and we realized that she was telling the truth. The rats had eaten whole bags of fertilizer."

"Okay, hold on, you said the rats were different? In what way?"

He shrugged, shaking his head. "I have no idea. It was like they were feral, diseased." He let out a sigh before continuing. "We went back to work the next day and Nancy told everyone about what we saw. Like we expected, everyone just thought we were being stupid. That she was some paranoid and lonely old woman who sucked us into one of her many conspiracy theories so she could spend time with somebody."

Jonathan paused, lost in thought with a deep line set between his brows. Silently, you reached forward and smoothed the line with your thumb, brushing some hair away from his face at the same time. "So you got fired because you followed a potential story?"

He shook his head. "We went back last night, and we found her in her basement. She had eaten the fertilizer, along with a whole bunch of chemicals that we found around the house. She was screaming about how she had to go back." He stared silently at the carpet. "Luckily, the ambulance was able to stabilize her and she's safe at the hospital."

You could tell how much guilt he was harboring, how heavy everything weighed on his shoulders. You rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed, earning a small smile from him. "You saved her, Johnny. I don't think there's anything you should feel bad about."

A sigh left his lips. "Tom thinks that we abused his trust, and we fed into her delusions. So he fired us."

The mention of Tom gave you flashbacks to last night, but you quickly smothered them and instead gave Jonathan a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"I drove Nancy home, and we... we got into a huge fight about everything that happened. About how I needed that job and she didn't, and she fucked it up for both of us. I-I said some things I didn't mean, but..." He returned his gaze to you finally. "I'm just hurt and guilty and confused about how I feel at the same time."

"Well," you sighed, letting your hand drop from his shoulder to his hand, linking your fingers with his. "I know that you both did what you think was right, and I know that you both were so concerned about this because you've seen things that make you worry that it could be something... Out of the ordinary." You scooted a bit closer, looking him in the eye. "But I also know that maybe you let Nancy drag you into this big mess, and you blame her for everything that happened. But Nancy has been going through her own problems, and maybe she felt that she needed to prove herself and her judgement was clouded by that."

He was silent for a moment, letting his eyes search yours as he looked for the words to say. "I should call her. Apologize to her."

You sighed. "Maybe. Or maybe you should let it sit for a bit, make sure you have all of your emotions lined up, because I know you both get a bit hot-headed when you're defending your actions."

He chuckled at that, his eyes dropping to your linked hands and gliding his thumb along your knuckles. "Y'know, Max and El came up to me yesterday, and they said they were looking for you. That they were worried about you."

You resisted the urge to stiffen, instead taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah, they said that you were being really weird. That you were even hanging out with Billy. It even freaked me out a little bit. I... I guess that was part of the reason I came here, to talk to you. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and now I feel stupid for even worrying."

Please don't feel stupid. Listen to that gut instinct. Please.

"I mean, it definitely is a little stupid," you teased, nudging his shoulder. "I think those girls just have a bit of an overactive imagination. I'm just fine. Just normal old me."

"Thank god for that," he added, a full smile finally spreading across his face.

You returned his smile before rising off the couch. "Do you want something to drink or eat?"

He shook his head, also pushing himself to his feet. "No, I should probably get going. Thank you, though."

You nodded, walking him to the door and opening it for him. "Of course. Thanks for checking up on me, Jonathan, even if I didn't need it."

He stepped out the door and stood on the porch for a moment, eyes flitting over your face. "I missed you, Y/N."

A small sigh left your lips. "I missed you too. So much. Stay in touch, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay. Bye, Y/N."

"Bye, Johnny." With one final wave, you closed the front door.

***

After seeing Jonathan that morning, you had felt a sort of urge to see him again, a magnetic pull towards that boy who broke your heart.

You knew it was dangerous to see him, not only because he was now in a committed relationship with your friend (though after what he told you had happened between them, you wondered if that label would last), but also due to the fact that you had no idea when this creature controlling you would make you snap and do god-knows-what.

So you locked yourself in your room once more, staring at the ceiling as you laid on the floor and attempted to will this horrible longing feeling away.

To no one's surprise, it didn't work.

Your next idea was to go spend time with Steve, hoping that maybe he would talk some sense into you. You threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater and drove to the mall in the sweltering heat, not wanting to risk letting your skin bubble and sizzle under the sun like BIlly's had.

But of course, neither Steve nor Robin were working, and no one had heard from them.

Under normal circumstances, you would be worried about their wellbeing, but you frankly had too much on your mind concerning your own wellbeing that you didn't fret about it. Instead, you ordered a pint of strawberry and a pint of mint chip from the boy at the counter and hurried out of the mall.

Before you could even stop yourself, you had pulled up (in the

car you had finally gotten fixed) onto the rocky front yard of the Byers' house.

With a few mumbled profanities towards your impulsiveness, you grabbed both pints of ice cream and stepped up the front porch steps that creaked under your feet. You knocked at the front door and shifted awkwardly, turning slightly to glance at the setting sun.

"Y/N?"

You turned around to face Jonathan who stood at the door, now dressed in an olive green tee shirt and a pair of jeans. "Hi!" you hummed, smiling brightly.

"Hi," he chuckled, mirroring your smile. "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, brushing past him and walking into the house. "I thought you might still be feeling down about today, so I wanted to bring you some ice cream. You still like mint chip, right?"

His eyes followed your figure as you walked into the kitchen and grabbed two spoons for the both of you. "Uh, yeah. Thanks...?"

You finally stopped moving for a moment to take in his confused state. With a sigh, you sat down on the couch, placing the ice cream and spoons down on the coffee table. "And after seeing you today, I realized how much I missed spending time with you. I guess... I guess I just wanted to see you again and catch up."

His look of confusion slowly melted into one of comfort and slight melancholy. "I missed you too. I'm glad you came over." We walked over and sat on the couch, his leg bumping into yours. "And I'm glad that you brought me ice cream."

You nudged his shoulder with yours, giving him a beaming smile. "You're lucky I remembered your favorite. I was just about to get some only for me."

He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I don't mind sharing."

"I do!"

He laughed, resting his head on your shoulder as his shoulders shook with giggles. You laughed with him, but you were acutely aware of how close he was to you.

As your laughs died down, the two of you opened your individual pints of ice cream and began to dig in. "Have you talked to Nancy yet?" you asked before shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Not yet. I'm taking your advice and letting everything settle for a bit," he replied, leaning back on the couch. "I just... our argument made me realize a lot."

"Like what?" you mirrored his position, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

"I mean, I knew that we both came from different backgrounds and we would never agree on some things, but..." He poked his ice cream with his spoon. "I guess I never realized that though we've spent so much time together, she still has this idea that everyone has it as good as she does. That people can just throw away something that doesn't fit them perfectly because they have the money to do so." He lifted his eyes from his ice cream and up to you. "And maybe I'm narrow-minded too, spending time with other people who knew what it was like living without a lot of money."

You frowned as he spoke, slowly leaning forward to set your ice cream and spoon down on the coffee table. "Do you think that it could... hurt you guys in the long run? Knowing what she sees about the whole situation?"

He set his ice cream down as well, pulling his feet up onto the couch and crossing his legs. "I-I don't know."

Silently, the two of you searched each other's eyes with baited breath, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It was at that moment that your judgement took a back seat, and you felt that inky fog lurking in your mind.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. He let out a hum of surprise, but he made no move to pull away from you. Slowly, you moved your hands to the back of his neck and scooted closer to him so you didn't have to crane your neck. You huffed out a sigh of relief as his hands finally rested on your cheeks, his shoulders beginning to lose their tension as he finally relaxed into the kiss.

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, you felt the familiar surge of black course through your veins, your skin beginning to burn as black veins snaked up your arms and neck.

As the pull towards the creature grew stronger, your lips fell from Jonathan's and you fought the creature for control.

Jonathan gave you a confused look when you pulled away, but he quickly pushed himself away from you when he noticed the inky veins that adorned your skin. "Y/N," he gasped, his eyes wide with panic and fear. You immediately pushed yourself off the couch and rushed towards the door, only for Jonathan to lurch forward and grab your wrist. "Y/N, what the fuck is going on!"

You snapped your gaze to him, feeling that fog slowly take over your mind as you fought to stay awake. "Let me go," you begged. "Please, I don't want to hurt you."

"What?"

"Let me go, Jonathan!"

Your tone startled him, loosening his grip on your wrist just enough for you to slip away from him and out the door before the creature took control.

***

Jonathan began to pace back and forth a few minutes after... Whatever had just happened.

He knew those veins, those pitch black veins that flooded your skin. He saw them when he had to exorcise his own brother, and now another person he cared for so dearly was overtaken by that same creature.

When Will was fighting was controlled by that same creature, though, he didn't seem so... normal. Was it evolving? Learning?

That then made him question if it was even really you. Maybe it had learned your mannerisms, took advantage of the thoughts it had access to.

What if you didn't even want to kiss him, but that thing made you?

He shook the thought from his head. He knew you loved him, that you wanted to be with him. But he also knew that you wouldn't overstep since him and Nancy were still together, even though they had gotten in a fight.

But God, he'd kiss you again in an instant if given the chance.

With a huff, he sat back down on the couch and stared at the two half-eaten pints of ice cream, guilt and worry gnawing at his insides.

He needed to tell Nancy about what happened to you. Just not now.

***

You sat at the landing of the metal warehouse stairs, silently watching Heather patch up Billy's bloodied body as you thought back on what happened just minutes ago.

"The girl, was it her?" Heather asked, gently dabbing a damp cloth over Billy's shoulder.

"Yeah," Billy responded gruffly, his jaw set tight. "It was her. She knows now. She knows about me."

"Jonathan knows too," you voiced silently. "He saw."

He gripped onto Heather's wrist, stopping her actions. "She could've killed me," Billy continued, ignoring your statement.

"Yes. But not us," heather whispered. Silently, she turned to look over the rows of individuals you've sacrificed, people overtaken by the monster.

"Not us," you repeated.

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dipperdogrpg · 3 years

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Cloud and Aerith theories/facts and not canon pairing essay

Ended up writing way more then intended lol and thought to share what’s happening in the FF7 story between Cloud and Aerith. This is a response text I did on my youtube channel where I do commentary as a Cloti supporter. Instead I decided to move it here.

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Wahh lol I got carried away! I enjoyed but also felt bad for Cloud having to dance at the Honey Bee thanks to Aerith and her plans. Gosh darn it though Cloud dancing was great and I squealed along with Aerith, but a tinge of guilt hits when I see his troubled face haha. The thing people confuses here is that Cloud pushes himself to do it for Tifa because he was ready to walk away. Instead of busting through the mansion he sucked it up to ensure Tifa’s safety and chose to sneak inside as a woman.

Yes, I’m also very curious how Sephiroth's schemes will develop and how Aerith will try to stop him in Remake. She's much more focused on Sephiroth and stopping him compared in OG. In the other game Aerith originally joined to understand her Cetra abilities, but it feels pretty evident she has new mysterious powers as a Cetra in Remake and her relationship with Sephiroth is more personal. Also, I think Sephiroth and Aerith’s ancestry will have a bigger role and focus on Jenova and the Cetra's relationship/History. I plan to do an Aerith Theory and a character analysis in the future because she is, as the developers describe her, mysterious.

It's obvious Sephiroth is harassing Cloud mentally then later physically through his clones. He is scheming something big and I look forward how Aerith will try to counter it because she is probably the only one capable to do it as a Cetra. One of the big schemes was removing the Arbiters of fate, but I think they both wanted that. Both Sephiroth and Aerith want to change something that doesn’t fit with the planet’s “destined” agenda.

In Max's commentary he mentioned Sephiroth was intentional with stalling Cloud running into Aerith, which caused a butterfly effect to ruin the events the planet has planned. While it tries to fix itself, the party are becoming aware of the Arbiters of Fate existence and sees it as a problem. At the end the team removes it when Sephiroth had some control in manipulating it. Its been mentioned the three figures you fight are a representation of the three sephiroth remnants from AC, Kadaj, Loz and Yazoo. So maybe we are getting hints of Sephiroth's abilities with the clones and the lifestream which could lead to some complicated trouble. We also get evidence Aerith is already more powerful than her Og counterpart by creating the portal to fight the Arbitors. When the heck did she learn that?

My theory about removing the arbitors of fate are so the creators can have wiggle room for slight variation in scenes they've considered fixing in the past to improve a more consistent story and of course a new way for Sephiroth to exercise his goal along with Aerith because definitely getting hints those two know more then they should. My theory, they are from the future and traveled to the past using the Life stream and I’m using the OTWTS Novel as evidence when Aerith and Sephiroth talk about their time in the Life Stream. In there they gained new powers. Evidence- Sephiroth talks about it at the temple of ancients and that he gained new knowledge from there, so why not Aerith too. Either way the party will stop him at the end with Aerith's help because her role in the story is to save the world while Tifa's role is to save Cloud. That is a canon statement by one of the developers btw. Aerith and Tifa have their roles to play in FF7 that lead to its success.

Fun fact, but Cloud is not himself with Aerith. The developers did say Cloud truly is himself with Tifa. Why? because love. Now, the cool thing in Remake we are witnessing is Cloud learning how to make friends. A poor social skill set that may have contributed with his insecurity when he was a child. Wanting to join tifa and her friends but instead stayed away. To make himself feel better he makes up a story that he chose not to play with the other kids because he is special. In FF7 we get to witness Cloud learning these relationship skills, which helps develop his character to grow up until we get to the Lifestream sequence. It's after that he can stop pretending to be what he think is the ideal cool grown up version of himself and instead work on his real self with the new bonds of friendship he made who stuck around Cloud regardless of him pretending to act as someone else during their adventure. Cloud is still Cloud. Even with the messed up memories he had. He is not Zack. He is like a little boy picking up traits he likes from other people and mimic them. Very confused why people think he is Zack. He’s not. He is Cloud trying to be cool and does it poorly. That’s a canon thing.

Soldier Cloud is a facade, an illusion of himself he truly believed in until he sorted out his memories and realized "oh I'm not being myself and just mimicking what would Zack do. A friend I look up to" It's been pointed out Cloud isn't actually grown up mentally and is still a child with insecurity about himself along with 5 years of trauma thanks to Hojo. Poor BABY! This whole copy/mimic theme gets reflected with the kids in sector 8 that mimic Cloud in remake over time during the side quests. Cloud is doing the same thing with Zack. Even Biggs hints that Cloud and the kids have a lot in common. I'm not crazy about Sector 8 but it shows best what Biggs told Cloud before the plate falls. And one more thing I want to add lol. When Cloud gets his red drink from Tifa there's a pause of him looking up and down at the drink and Tifa, before he says beautiful. That moment of pause he thinks to himself what he should do here and then came up with what he believes a confident person/Zack would do. Zack doesn't hesitate when giving a compliment. Confident people don't normally hesitate when they talk. It's why we get moments of Cloud saying some awkward lines when he doesn't give himself time to think and its one of the best moments to watch lol cuz I think that's when real cloud slips out trying to act cool or is at a lost for words. It's canon by the developers that Cloud isn't cool but tries to act it.

Another Fun fact. Most party members and NPCs in Remake mention and hint in game they see past the facade Cloud puts up. Tifa, Barret, Wedge, Biggs, Marle, Jessie and Aerith are some of the characters that see past it and either go along with it, poke fun at his attempt or tell him to his face they know he's pretending to be someone he's not. Basically seeing past the character he pretends to be and can see he has a good heart over the course they spend time with him. Even though Cloud tries to convince others and himself he could care less about them and is only in it for the money.

Now OG is really awkward with the romance honestly from my playthroughs so far. (Follow me on Youtube Dipperdog15 if you want to catch my FF7 commentary when I go live playing OG and Intergrade.) But with Remake it's very clear they are building up Aerith's love story with Zack so we can cry hard later. All of Zack scenes so far is related to Aerith. In Remake and OG Aerith display some of Zack's mannerisms too because people copy/mimic what they do to feel closer to them when in love. She continues to wear the bow Zack gave her and the pink dress in memory of Zack. She's said "gotta move forward not back" in remake and/or that Zack probably moved on with another girl in Og but what if what she said is a lie. We have Cloud as the unreliable narrator so why can't it also happen with Aerith who is likely lying to convince herself to move on to protect her heart. In fact a lot of characters in FF7 lie to themselves and we get character development when they stop and face the truth. It's one of the many themes in FF7 which I think I’ll deep dive into on my podcast channel in the future.

Another thing to keep in mind is that Zack is risking it all to make it to Midgar to see Aerith while risking Cloud's life on this mission, because he promised her. Promise is a big important theme in FF7. Cloud and Tifa are the canon couple and Zack and Aerith are the canon couple in FF7 because these pairings promised each other. I won't disagree about Cloud not caring about Aerith, but he cares for all his friends as said in AC. Also why make it possible the idea to bring Zack back? To create a love square? No. It’s have us the players focus instead the reunion of Aerith and Zack. That’s more attention grabbing because we never got to see it before and I’ll cry when they cry finally getting to be together. If they don’t I’ll cry some more. The developers are pushing for Zerith and their development in Remake/Intergrade.

Another thing to notice, there are a lot of similarities between Jessie and Aerith's relationship when they are around Cloud. This directive choice, I believe, isn't a coincidence in order to water down scenes that are suppose to be special. It is instead not a “one of kind’ scene. They both get carried bridal style. They both tell cloud My Hero. They both invited Cloud over for dinner. They both ask about who Tifa is. They both got a pikachu face from Cloud when jessie optionally kissed Cloud on the cheek and Aerith wearing the optional red dress. They both have strong personalities that overwhelms Cloud and that is a developer canon statement. They both worked hard to befriend Cloud so he can open up and be nicer to them. Cloud treats them both the same.

Aerith’s relationship with Cloud in Remake is directing us to friendship. In the novel it mentioned she loves Cloud, in what way we don’t know. But we can say for a fact Cloud was living a lie in OG and his real self loves Tifa. In fact his other self loved Tifa too, you just have to catch the moment. Example, Barret teasing Cloud if he is eager to see his baby when you first see Tifa in OG. It happens when you run to the bar, but only if you catch Tifa on the porch before she goes inside. That’s means in both remake and OG, Barret knew something was up with those two. Another moment is the interest Cloud has with what Tifa almost said in the gondola. It was obviously sounding like some kind of confession from Tifa at Gold Saucer. When you get this date the story is more fluid when you arrive at the northern crater and Cloud says “only your opinion matters” to Tifa. Huge RED FLAG Cloud considers Tifa important to him. Meanwhile Aerith and Cloud’s relationship was open for interpretation that it may have been love in OG, but the scenes that helped implied it were removed in Remake. The point system was just for fun because it was a popular thing in the 90s. Plus the points for Tifa, Aerith, Barret and Yuffie’s are their feelings for Cloud not Cloud’s feelings towards them. Then you get rewarded learning a little about the character, but that’s it. FF7 remake/intergrade is not an otome game. Cloud ends with Tifa no matter what. Even if Aerith was to stay alive the Life Stream sequence will always be Cloud and Tifa’s moment to learn about their feelings for each other. The developers have said it is one of their favorite scenes, so they won’t change it. ok now back to Remake.

Aerith in her resolution tells him not to love her and it’s not real. A deliberate choice of words I think she picked to shoo away the thought they could be a thing for both their sakes and us the players lol. Doing that made it weird now because Cloud doesn’t want to ruin what ever progress he has with Tifa in Remake. Plus Cloud only known her for a few days and if his actions are making her think there’s this growing romance between them he’s not going to encourage it. Those lines raised his awareness to watch himself I bet, so Tifa doesn’t get the wrong idea and you can see the distance he put between himself and Aerith later in game. Meanwhile in Intermission we see Cloud continues to make quick glances at Tifa whenever he can. We get it Cloud. You can’t keep your eyes off her. Ok getting off track. So Cloud and Aerith are instead just friends. Doing this allows Tifa to pick up the role to be there for Aerith. Which will help develop their friendship to be stronger as the two girls encourage each other. because I didn’t pick up on the two being best friends in OG but in Remake it’s very clear. He already looked uncomfortable when Aerith grabbed his arm back at the ghost station in front of Tifa. To include Cloud with this idea of him falling in love with another woman in front of Tifa would leave a poor taste in our mouths after spending several hours watching him develop several intimate moments with Tifa. That freaking hug scene and train roll you guys screamed sexual tension and love. Cloud is not that kind of guy who easily falls in love. His whole hero’s journey is because of Tifa and he makes sure to be nice to her while trying to get her attention. With anyone else he is quite hostile with new people and slowly learns to tolerate them before liking them. Cloud treats Tifa differently in a special way. He’s been pinning for Tifa since they were kids and even imagined scenarios of Tifa noticing him. That’s right, not all of Cloud’s visions may be accurate. We may see more scenes of kid Cloud imagining moments with Tifa to confuse our perspective they are childhood friends. Again, Cloud is the unreliable narrator thanks to Jenova and 5 years of trauma. Now back to Aerith. Their relationship definitely felt different when Cloud, Tifa and Barret rescued Aerith. In fact Aerith’s relationship with everyone is different in a better way. The relationship between Tifa and Barret are better fleshed out compared to OG Aerith and I’m for it. Very happy they removed the jail scene. It was upsetting watching Aerith flirt with Cloud while Tifa was stuck in the cell forced to listen and Aerith owing Cloud a date. Which changed also in Remake. Taking Aerith home and spending time her was the date as mentioned in game by Aerith herself.

When I play through Chapter 8 and 9 I get this feeling Meta Aerith looks uncomfortable sticking to the OG lines of herself but does it anyways so the Arbiters of fate won’t come for her because she wants to hold on to her memories. Something she believes can help her friends I’m guessing. This is if my theory is right lol. What we have now is an Aerith that’s more mysterious than she was in OG. If this is OG Aerith making a return in Remake then I believe she was acting a lot, but then we see hiccups of her mentioning Cloud being a mercenary when he never mentioned it or acting like she knows Tifa for like forever before she actually met her in Remake. And then there was her knowing the plate would fall in sector 7. I’m betting the burden of knowing it was so hard to hide that Tifa picked up that she might be hiding something.

We are near the end!

Aerith’s resolution explored further. The resolution helps proves my theory this is OG Aerith that travel back to the past using the Lifestream to help her comrades in the fight against Sephiroth in Remake who also returned to the past. What’s also interesting about her resolution are the things she said are something you want to tell someone before you disappear. It was so sudden in OG that it sounds like Aerith wants to make up for it and also doesn’t want Cloud to suffer in guilt as he did in AC. Cherish the moment. Every one dies.

Aerith knows the truth with Cloud and Tifa’s relationship hence her stopping herself interfering. Now maybe Aerith did fall in love with Cloud, and maybe while Cloud pretended to be someone else was loving the idea, which is a stretch cuz there are plenty debunking the idea which I can go over later. They both may have been using each other to fill the hurt in their heart not having their true loves instead. Zack and Tifa. In her resolution, Aerith has declared she will not pursue Cloud as she did in OG and we have evidence of that when they rescue her. there were so many opportunities for Cloud to be Aerith’s hero. Instead those moments were replaced with Tifa consoling her and rescuing her.

The Arbitors of Fate are gone, so I believe Aerith’s normal clips of her flirting with Cloud will get removed or changed as many have already. This allows the directors to remove lines that painted Aerith poorly some moments and better her relationship with the team too. Aerith will still have flaws like everyone does. No one is perfect and I’m perfectly fine with that.

Crap if I keep going this will turn into a podcast in writing I think lol. Anywho, yes the arbiters of fate were eliminated, who knows if it's permanent, but as the developers have repeated, FF7 story will remain the same at heart. Iconic moments will remain. If it is not then that's a risky move to say to fans. Aerith will die to protect her loved ones and the planet and will reunite at the church in spirit with Zack perhaps. She can’t escape her role as the last living Cetra. That is her truth which she denied when she was little as shown in a flashback with kid Aerith. The other theme in FF7 is trying to move forward after a loss. Which extends to Advent Children which some of the team members has to deal with survival guilt. Some fans are getting their hopes up that Aerith will live. The developers are using Biggs and Jessie’s possible surviving scenes to prove lives lost can live in Remake. I think they may die later though if that is their fate, but we never actually saw them die in OG either. It was just implied. This is a set up so Aerith’s death scene can be impactful again in Remake, so we can cry again.

This was a lot and little bit everywhere, but I hope you enjoyed it. You can follow me on youtube in the link below where I invite other FF7 fans to talk about the story and Cloud and Tifa’s relationship Or me doing my own Cloud and Tifa commentary and Remake talk while I play the game. Thanks for reading! Hope you check out my channel and sub to check out my videos when convenient for you. Thank you!

https://www.youtube.com/c/Dipperdog15/featured

#cloti #FF7 Remake #ff7 #cloud strife #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7

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uas-fics · 3 years

Text

Title: Hop and Gloria to the Rescue!

Rating: G

Summary: Gloria and Hop are finally home for a visit after their stays in the far-off Crown Tundra and the Isle of Armor, respectively. But what's this? Someone is breaking into Hop's house!? And Leon's there alone? They have to save him!

Ships: Leon x Piers

Content Warnings: Mild spoilers for the SwSh post games and DLCs

Read on AO3

-----

"Anything but curry. Let's agree to that."

"Oh, definitely!"

Hop rubbed his stomach. "If I ever see another Max Mushroom curry in my life, it'll be too soon."

"At least the Dojo has a snack machine!" Gloria bumped into his shoulder with her own. "You know what I got to eat? Camp curry and carrots."

"So that means you got the best eyesight now, don't it?" Hop teased.

Gloria wrinkled up her nose. She moved to push Hop forward, but he dodged. She snorted. A smile played on her face.

For the last few months, the Galar continent separated the best friends, with Gloria exploring the Crown Tundra and Hop studying in the Isle of Armor. They kept in touch, of course, texting, calling,and sending pictures of interesting pokemon they saw, but none of that compared to walking and chatting with each other on their journey home to Postwick.

Both trainers had so much to tell everyone and each other.

Notebooks weighted down Hop's pack. Each one filled with notes, sketches, and photographs about the pokemon he'd been studying on the Isle of Armor. One, in particular, had a blurry photo of a black and pink bird pokemon that sped by the front of the Dojo one afternoon.

Hop already knew exactly how he would convince Gloria to help him track it down.

Gloria's pack, on the other hand, held a folder with all the notes she'd taken from her own journeys around The Crown Tundra with Peony. If the pictures of the Legendary pokemon didn't leave Hop gobsmacked, then seeing them registered in her Pokedex would!

Of course, once he knew she was tracking down Moltres somewhere in the Isle of Armor, he would have to join her.

But all that could wait until after a few days rest with their families.

Patchy clouds darkened the sun as the two crested the final hill to Postwick. Far in the distance, over the Slumbering Weald, the heavy clouds poured down. The travelers missed the deluge by less than an hour.

Gloria took a deep breath, enjoying air that didn't fill her lungs with an icy chill. Coming home a day earlier than she'd told her mum turned out to be the right idea.

Not just their families would be elated to see them. Gloria had message after message from Marnie: how she was improving her gym and the new boutique that opened near the Spikemuth pokemon center--and about The Big Secret.

Marnie had taunted her with the huge, life changing secret that was too sensitive to tell over the phone for weeks now. If Gloria wanted to know what the secret was, she would have to come to Spikmuth and hear it from Marnie face to face.

Hop ran over to a wooden fence.

"I didn't know how much I'd missed wooloo." He laughed and gestured to a herd of grazing wooloo.

One of the wooloo raised its head at the sound of his voice. It baa'ed at the two before trotting over. It butted its head against Hop's palm. Soon the rest of the herd crowded the fence line, baa-ing in delight at the attention Hop readily gave out.

"Remind me to let Dubwool out after we get home so he can talk to all his old wooloo friends. He's grown even stronger since the last time they all saw him. Master Mustard said he thinks Dubwool is getting stronger faster than even Lee’s Charizard did."

Hop scratched a wooloo under the chin. It bleated in delight.

Gloria leaned her arms on the fence. "Speaking of Leon, will he be home too? My pokemon are itching for a battle with him." She fingered the pokeballs at her belt.

If Cinderace didn't get a chance to battle Leon's Charizard, he would give Gloria the silent treatment for a week. After all the rememensing about the amazing championship battle Gloria and Leon had, Calyrex, too, wanted a good look at the former champion. Not to mention the rest of her team wanted to test their strength against the toughest trainer they knew.

Hop jumped back from the fence, much to the sorrow of the wooloo herd. "He should be. Lee told me he's been helping Mum and my grandparents around the house the last week or so."

"Well, if he's not home," Gloria punched her fist into her palm, "I'll go drag him back to Postwick myself."

Hop chuckled as he spun around towards Postwick. He wished he could see that: Tiny Gloria carrying his big brother over her head all the way through the Wild Area and back home. It was almost too bad Lee wouldn't miss a chance to see his little brother after so long apart.

He opened his mouth to tell Gloria as much when something caught his eye. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted.

"What's that?" He pointed.

Gloria followed his finger to see a figure in black with a hood pulled up walk through the gate to Hop's house. The figure shut the gate behind them before passing a large tree and leaving her sight.

"I dunno, but it gives me a bad feeling." Gloria grabbed Hop's wrist. "C'mon! Let's investigate!"

They hurried down the road until they came to the edge of the stone wall that surrounded Hop's home.

"Do you think we should go inside? What if that's a burglar? Should we call the police?" Hop asked. His fingers brushed his rotomphone in his pocket.

"Not yet. Let's see if we can tell what's going on first."

Gloria dropped her bag. With a leap, she effortlessly cleared the wall. She rushed past the tree and to the shed beside the house. Hop shouldered off his heavy pack and mimicked her until both their backs pressed against the worn paint of the shed.

"There's a window 'round the side of the shed. It looks into the kitchen." Hop jerked his head towards the house. "Let's see if we can see anything."

At the edge of the shed, Gloria and Hop exchanged looks. They nodded at each other then dropped to their stomachs in the wet grass. The smell of soggy earth filled their noses. They army crawled to the side of the house.

Hop's grandfather, or maybe even Leon, had recently cleared the leaf litter from around the shed into a tidy pile beside the house. The pile blocked their path like a sodded brown mountain.

Gloria started to ask, "Should we go arou--" when the kitchen window opened.

Hop slapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her until they were right next to the leaf litter pile.

A voice floated out the window.

"...won't be back until tonight."

Hop stiffened.

Leon! That was Leon's voice! So he was home. What about the burglar? The figure who walked through the gate. Did that person know Leon was home too? Did Leon know he wasn't alone?

Leon stuck his head out the window and gazed at the sky. "Rain's well past," he said before pulling his head back in.

Gloria held Hop against the wall to stop him from jumping out of their hiding place and dragging Leon out of the window by his shoulders.

She put a finger to her lips. "We don't know if anyone is in there with him yet," She hissed into his ear. "We don't want to scare him over nothing."

Hop swallowed the lump of worry in his throat. Gloria was right, of course. Maybe the figure was just cutting through his yard. People did that all the time, didn't they?

A hand with skin much too pale to be Leon's came from the window. It turned, palm to the sky, before returning to the house. The window shut with a click.

Hop and Gloria's eyes met.

There was someone in the house, someone beside Leon.

Without another word, the two crawled around the leaf pile and to the window. They waited a few heart-pounding moments before, carefully, peeking into the kitchen.

The figure in black, hood still up, had their back to Hop and Gloria. A sharp knife stuck out from their sleeves.

The figure started to turn towards the window. Hop and Gloria ducked down. Their hearts threatened to tear right out of their chests.

"Oh, Arceus." Hop sucked in a breath, going to his knees.

She put her hands on Hop's shoulders and shook him once. "Do you know what this means? It's not a burglar! It's a murderer!"

"But why? Who would want to hurt Leon? He is the greatest Champion Galar's ever had!" He paused a beat then added, "Ah, I mean--"

Gloria cut him off with a wave of her hand. "That's probably why! He must know something someone doesn't want him to. He has to have some top secret information about the League or someone very powerful."

"So they sent an assassin!" Hop interjected.

"Maybe more than one!"

Then, like a feedback loop of movie cliches, the mysterious figure walking through Hop's gate turned into a burglar, then murderer, then one of a team of well trained ninja assassins from Kanto coming to either kidnap Leon to extort information out of him or kill him to keep him from talking.

Midway through Hop's edition of a secret underground society of pokemon psychics, a scream pierced the air from inside the house.

"Lee!" Hop jumped to his feet.

He ran to the front of the house, weaving around the set of metal chairs and table near the kitchen door, and skidded to a stop, sending mud and wet grass up into the air.

He took a pokeball from his belt. "Dubwool, come out!"

In a flash of light, Hop's dubwool appeared. He shook out his fleece. For a moment, excitement rose on Dubwool's face upon being home. It disappeared when he looked at Hop's terrified expression.

Gloria let out her Cinderace. Cinderace took a breath for an delighted shout but Gloria shushed him with a hand over his mouth.

"There is an assassin in Hop's house trying to kidnap Leon," She explained quickly to the pokemon. "They probably have the door blocked, so we need to break it in then take out the assassin, got it?"

Dubwool and Cinderace nodded without a second’s hesitation. Their trainers knew exactly what was going on, and the pokemon always trusted their judgement.

Hop picked up one of the metal garden chairs and Gloria the other. They weren't much for weapons or protection, but they were better than nothing.

Another scream made all four jump.

"Let's go! Dubwool, use slam on the door!" Hop ordered, throwing out his arm.

Dubwool bleated. He pawed at the dirt once, twice, then rammed, horns first, into the door. The door flew from the hinges and crashed into the stairs across the hall. Photos rattled and fell to the floor with a shattering glass. Shards of glass scattered across fleece as Dubwool righted himself.

With a war cry, Hop, Gloria, and Cinderace raced through the door.

Cinderace jumped onto the broken door and used it as a springboard to leap across the living room.

"What in the world?" Leon jumped up from the couch in time for Cinderace's foot to plant firmly on his chest. His hat flew off his head as he landed, pinned between the wall and Cinderace's foot.

Gloria raised the chair above her head and threw it as another head came up from the couch.

The assassin ducked in time to miss the metal chair, but not the Dubwool who jumped over the couch to land on them with a victorious bleat.

The shelf above Leon swung down by one nail, disturbed by the chair hitting the wall. A trophy rolled and landed square on Leon's head with a bell-like ring.

Hop darted around the chaos towards his brother, his chair forgotten by the mess near the broken door.

"Lee!" Hop pushed a shocked Cinderace away and crouched next to Leon.

"H...Hop?" Leon squinted. "What are you doing here?" He winced, holding his head. A nice sized lump began to grow where the trophy collided with Leon’s skull.

Before Hop could answer, Gloria took a pillow from the couch and began beating the only part of the assassin's body that wasn't under a mass of thick wool--their thrashing legs.

"How do you like it, huh? You're not killing any champions on my watch! Bam! Ha! Boom! Take that, assassin!" She cried, repeatedly slamming the pillow against the assassin's ankles.

Leon gasped. "S-stop! Gloria, stop!" He tried to stand, but could barely lift himself up without falling back.

Hop wrapped his arms around Leon's shoulders protectively. Why in the world would he want them to stop? That assassin was trying to kidnap him, take him to their underground base, and torture him for information!

"Get the 'ell offa me!" The assassin yelled. With a grunt of effort, they pushed Dubwool off.

The sheep pokemon rolled onto his back, hooves waving in the air. Gloria quickly changed her angle and slammed the pillow into the assassin's face.

I hope I broke this jerk's nose! Gloria thought, though she didn't hear any cartilage crunching against her attack.

A pale hand gripped the pillow and tore it from her hands.

"What was all that for?" A familiar person demanded, throwing the pillowing back at Gloria. It hit her face and landed in a sad lump on the ground.

"Piers?"

Piers narrowed his eyes. A chill worse than anything she felt in the Crown Tundra ran up her spine at his icy glare.

"Did you throw a chair at me?" He demanded.

"I, I, uh..." Gloria floundered.

What was going on? Why was Piers, of all people, here? He wasn't a gym leader anymore, so he didn't need to talk to Leon about the League. Gloria couldn't think of a single reason the two would ever be in the same place together.

Unless something was wrong with Marnie. Was that The Big Secret she wanted to tell her? Had Marnie broken some sort of huge rule? Did something bad happen? Was her best gal friend in trouble?

Leon groaned again. Piers moved his gaze from Gloria and towards Leon. He jumped to his feet and hurried over.

"Leon? Are you alright?" He winced, seeing the blooming bruise on his forehead.

Hop tightened his grip on his brother. His head spun. Had his and Gloria's grand plan to save Leon been for nothing? No way they were wrong about the danger Leon had been in.

"I'm ffffffine," Leon slurred, "propsably."

Piers held up three fingers. "How many fingers I got up?"

Leon stared into the middle distance for a few beats longer than he should before squinting at Piers' fingers.

"Six."

Piers groaned, throwing his head back dramatically and slumping his shoulders. "I think you two gave him a concussion."

"Concussion?!" Hop nearly choked on the word. "But, we didn't mean to!"

Cinderace took a few steps around Gloria. He lowered himself to hide behind her, ashamed of the damage he'd caused. She reached back and patted him reassuringly. It wasn’t his fault. If Piers had been an assassin ninja, Cinderace would have just saved Leon from a dagger to the neck.

Piers disentangled Hop from Leon. He put his arm under Leon's and around his back before hoisting him up. Leon tried to take a step on his own, but wobbled back against Piers.

"Let's get you to a doctor. That's a nasty lump." Piers' voice came out softer than Gloria or Hop had ever heard it. To Hop, he asked, "Do we got to go all the way to the next town or is there a doctor in Postwick."

Hop's mouth gaped before he shook himself. "There's not, but if I call the one in Wedgehurt, he can be here in a jiffy." He already had his rotomphone out before he finished speaking.

Gloria, feeling useless standing there like a slowpoke on a stone, went to roll Dubwool back to his hooves. She dusted some of the wood chips and glass shards from his fleece. A few chips hit the cracked screen of a laptop on the floor.

She had a feeling she would be paying for that, and for everything else...

Leon rested his weight against Piers' side.

"Surry," He muttered. "This didn't go alls well 't all."

Piers shrugged as he carefully helped Leon through the broken mess on the floor.

"Believe it or not, this still isn’t the worst date I've ever been on."

Hop dropped the rotomphone and Gloria fell over herself, landing on the other side of Dubwool.

"Date?"

------

Piers shook the rain off his coat.

“Walk more,” they said.

“It's good for you,” they said.

“The weather is great today,” they said.

Bull crap!

That's the last time he takes his gym trainers' advice on the weather--no, not his gym trainers. They were Marnie's now. He hadn’t been a gym leader in a few months, but sometimes that fact still slipped his mind.

He should have gotten a taxi to Postwick. That way he wouldn't have gotten caught in the rain.

He hurried down the road to Leon's house. He opened the gate, surprised it didn't screech in protest. Well, Leon did say he'd been doing handiwork around his family's house recently. He probably oiled the gate.

Or maybe Piers just wasn't used to gates that didn't squeak from years of rust.

He shut the gate behind him as he wondered if he could talk Leon into helping him around Spikemuth's gym. Marnie might be the gym leader, but that didn't mean Piers couldn't still keep the gym up to snuff.

Leon opened the door after the second knock. He wore a floral themed apron with his sleeves rolled past his elbows and hair pulled back at the nape of his neck.

He covered a chuckle.

"Spooky. Are you the grim reaper today?" He gestured at the long black coat and hood.

Piers rolled his eyes and pushed the hood back. How he fit all of his hair in the hood, Leon couldn't fathom a guess.

Leon gestured for him to follow him to the kitchen. Piers peeled off his coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. Leon reached back to untie the apron.

"I lost track of time," he explained, hanging the apron on a hook. "I promised Mum I'd get the kitchen spick and span for tomorrow."

"How kind."

Hop came back tomorrow from the Isle of Armor. Piers' knew that well at this point. It seemed every other conversation lately had been about how excited Leon was about his little brother's return.

Leon couldn't wait to hear what kind of research Hop was doing and what kind of pokemon he'd met and all about how everything at the Dojo was.

Of course, Gloria was supposed to come back too. Neither Leon nor Piers had ever been to the Crown Tundra, but they knew the rumors of the incredibly strong pokemon that live in the barren, frozen north of Galar.

Both of them knew they would need to battle the current champ to see just how strong she'd become before she left to continue her explorations.

Piers peered around the kitchen. As far as he could tell, it looked fine. All the counters were clean and the cobwebs dusted from the corners, but he still asked, "D’you need help?" anyway.

Leon shook his head. "No. It's just a few dishes I have to do." He jerked his head to the sink.

In fact, Leon started cleaning all the nooks and crannies of the kitchen right after breakfast. He intended to finish well before Piers showed up, but only having a few pieces of silverware left wasn't that bad.

Piers took a dish towel from beside the sink and dropped it. Using his foot, he mopped up the puddle he and his coat created on the tiled floor. With one quick movement, he hooked the towel with his toe and kicked it up into his waiting hand.

"You're welcome." He tossed the towel next to the sink.

Leon snorted a laugh. "Thanks."

"When is your family 'ppose to be back? The movie isn't that long, but..." Piers trailed off, rolling his wrist to finish the comment.

Leon didn't need him to finish to know what he was talking about. They were a little secret, for the time being. Only the bare minimum of people knew they were dating, and Leon had been putting off explaining the situation to his family until after Hop and Gloria’s homecoming.

"My grandparents are visiting friends in Ballonlea. My and Gloria's mums are in Hammerlock, so, they," Leon opened the window over the sink, "won't be back until tonight."

Leaning over the sink, he poked his head out and looked up. The dark rain clouds moved on, leaving Postwick humid, but drying. A weather Piers didn’t seem to mind, though Leon couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of humidity being better than a sunny afternoon.

"Rain's well past."

Piers strode next to him and stuck his hand out the window. He turned his palm up, half expecting more rain, before pulling it back in. He shut the window.

"Too bad," he smiled slyly, "a scary movie is always better with some thunder and lightnin' in the background."

"I wouldn't want Hop treading home through mud," Leon replied, only half joking.

Piers took his coat from the chair and draped it over Leon's shoulders. He chuckled and patted his warm cheek.

"It's cute you care so much about your bro like that."

A faint blush crossed Leon's cheeks. Their faces were so close. It wouldn't take much to close the gap and--

"We should start the movie soon." Piers stole a step away. "We're doing this in the living room, yeah?"

Before he could get any farther, Leon took hold of his wrist and gently pulled him back. He placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I have to empty the sink first, so don't miss me too much."

Although he knew it was unlikely, Leon wished his impromptu romantic gesture would leave the formidable dark-type trainer flustered. It didn't, of course. Leon had only ever gotten him blushing and gobsmacked once, when he first proposed the idea of a date between the two.

Piers shook his head with a smile then pulled the hood over Leon's head.

"Smooth as a druddigon."

He paused, mentally storing that line away. It could make a good lyric someday. Smooth as a druddigon, loving as a gorbis? Bisharp?

He'd work on it later.

With Piers out of the kitchen, Leon sighed in defeat. Maybe next time he'd get him.

Instead of taking off Piers' coat, he put his arms through the sleeves. Piers was taller than him by a half a head, so the sleeves fell past his hands

Leon took the last fork and spoons from the sink and set them aside. Careful of the blade, he took a knife out. Mum used the knife to chop vegetables for dinner the night before, so it was a relatively easy clean.

Leon shuddered. The coat wasn't even that warm. Did Piers only wear it for the style? He turned away from the sink, knife still in hand and lifted an arm. At least the material seemed to dry fast after being caught in the rain. Maybe that's why Piers wore it?

As he turned back to the sink, something moved out of the corner of his eye. He frowned. Did a rookidee fly down from the tree in the yard just then? Setting the knife aside, he reached to open the window again when a blood curdling scream made him jump.

With his hand to his pounding heart, he hurried to the living room.

"What was that?"

Piers nodded to the laptop set up in front of him on the coffee table.

Leon craned his neck towards the laptop screen. The fakest monster costume he had ever seen loomed over a frightened woman on the title screen.

"Night Of the Living Nightmare" the title read in a dripping green and purple font.

When Piers said he had a classic of Galar indie horror to show him, Leon expected a movie with thrilling psychological horror and innovative use of pokemon moves for special effects, not a repainted rubber gyarados mask with extra teeth glued in.

"How old is this movie?" Leon asked, taking off Piers' fashionable, but impractical, coat.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was made only eight years ago?" Piers took the coat from Leon and tossed it in the corner of the couch.

"Really?" He sat next to Peers.

Piers scooted over and pressed against his side. Leon always felt warm, which was part of the reason Piers took his less than warm coat with him. A good excuse to get close as they watched the movie. At least one of them was actually smooth.

He hummed the affirmative.

'The Night Of The Living Nightmare' was a terribly cheesy movie. The fake blood wasn't thick enough, the teeth on the mask fell off half way through, the editing made scenes drag on much too long, and the actors either over exaggerated their lines or delivered them with as much life as a dead magikarp.

All together, 'The Night Of The Living Nightmare' made for a good date movie in Piers' opinion.

"Ready?" Piers already hit play before Leon could answer.

The movie started with a scene of a woman rising up out of a pool. The camera lingered on her chest and stomach and legs before it panned back towards the water. A ripple skittered across the pool water.

The scales on the wishiwashi making the waves gleamed in the harsh set lighting.

The woman dried her hair with a bright pink beach towel. She hummed a pop song that Leon remembered being popular when he was a teenager, but couldn’t recall the name off.

A set of rubber fins slapped against the pool tile. The music grew frantic with each wet slap as the monster neared the woman.

A three clawed hand reached out towards the woman. She spun, screamed in terror and--

"Is that a boom mic?" Leon paused the movie and pointed to the mic in the corner of the screen.

"There are at least seven hangin' around in different shots," Piers confirmed. "You think you can find 'em all?"

Now with a goal of finding all the hidden mics, Leon went to hit play again. Before his fingers brushed the space bar, something let out a loud "Baaaa!"

He bolted up in time to see the front door fly off its hinges, followed by a dubwool.The door and dubwool slammed into the steps. Picture frames crashed to the ground. Glass scattered across the floor.

Outside, several people screamed, then a cinderace then leapt over the dubwool.

It ricocheted off the busted door and aimed a well placed kick into Leon's chest.

----

"...And that's what happened before you brusted in." Leon adjusted the ice pack against his head.

The doctor from Wedgehurts said Leon got lucky that Cinderace's attack only left him with some bruises, bumps, and a mild concussion and not broken bones. When he left, the doctor tutted at the broken door and muttered about kids these days.

Piers set a glass of water on the table in front of Leon and two pain pills beside it.

From across the kitchen table, Hop and Gloria avoided looking at the older trainers. How could they let their imagination get away from them like that? Gloria was the Galar champion and Hop was a professor in training, and yet they really believed assassins had broken in.

How foolish! Leon was a champion, too. Of course he could take care of a few assassin's without their help!

"We're really sorry, Lee," Hop muttered then added quickly, "and Piers."

Gloria added in, "We just wanted to help."

"It's not the first time I've been hit by a pokemon, and it probably won't be the last," Leon reassured after he downed the pain killers.

Piers took a seat. He steepled his fingers and looked over Hop and Gloria with a hard, steady gaze. The two squirmed. Should they apologize again? Get on their knees and beg for forgiveness?

"This wasn't how this was s’pposed to go." Piers sighed, turning to look away and releasing the kids from his stare.

Leon nodded in agreement, only to flinch. He blinked hard until the kitchen finally stopped spinning. The doctor told him not to do anything that required much mental or physical exertion, but he didn't particularly have a choice in this case.

The thought of explaining the door, the wall, the shelf, his head, not to mention Piers, made his head pound in anticipation of the confrontation. Mum would be upset about the door, worried about him, and annoyed about Piers being kept a secret from her.

"I don't get," Hop frowned, "why you two keep this a secret from everyone? What's the big deal?"

Leon scratched his cheek with his finger. "Well, ah, that's because--"

"We were breakin’ rules," Piers cut in.

"Rules? What rules?" Hop wrinkled his brow.

Leon was a grown up now, so the rules Mum set up for dating when he was a teenager didn't apply anymore. Or, Hop thought they didn't. Had Leon broken his curfew to spend time with Piers? Did he leave for a date without telling Mum how long he’d be out?

"The Pokemon League rules. Members of The League aren't allowed to date each other. Conflict of interest and all that," Peers explained. "I was still a gym leader and he was still champion when this started." He nodded towards Leon.

Now Hop felt really confused. He couldn't imagine his big brother breaking a rule like that. Then again, he couldn't imagine Leon breaking curfew either, at least not without a really good reason.

Gloria crossed her arms. This was news to her. What a dumb rule. Who cared if a gym leader wanted to date another leader. What if she wanted to go out with a gym leader? The League could try and stop her!

"I don't think we'll get in too much trouble now, but we figured we'd wait it out before saying anything to anyone." Leon switched the hand holding the ice pack. He wanted this conversation over so he could go lay down and stare at the ceiling for a bit.

A thought crossed Gloria's mind just then. Could it be this The Big Secret Marnie had to tell her in person?

"Does Marnie know?"

"That you two nearly suffocated her brother under a hundred kilo of unknit sweater? She will when I get home." Piers glanced at the side of the kitchen where the pokemon were. Dubwool lowered his gaze. Cinderace coughed into his paws and turned to stare out the window.

"No, did Marnie know about you two?"

Piers raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. She knew."

Gloria's eyes gleamed. Now Marnie owed her a new secret, since Gloria knew this one. It was only fair after all! Maybe this whole ordeal was worth it to learn Marnie’s crushes!

Hop asked, "Is there anything we can do to make this up to you two? We messed up, and we deserve it."

Piers and Leon exchanged looks. Piers shrugged. He could always find them something to do at Spikemuth: the less artistic graffiti needed to be washed off walls, trash picked up, or moss scraped off buildings.

Leon, though, was the one who had actually been hurt so he let the punishment for the kids’ transgression be under his discretion.

"I can think of one thing," Leon said. He gestured for Piers to lean towards him. He covered the side of his mouth and whispered into Piers' ear.

Piers cackled and sent Hop and Gloria a smirk.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant." He clasped Leon on the upper arm and squeezed.

Leon set the ice pack on the table. He reached across and put a firm hand on one of Hop's and one of Gloria's shoulders.

He half smiled. "Someone has to tell Mum what happened to the door, and I don't think it will be me."

---

AN: I haven't written a fanfiction in like more than a year. But last year was 2020 so can you blame me?

#pokemon #piers #leon #hop #gloria #piersxleon #one-shot #fanfiction

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thecreelhouse · 4 years

Text

you are where I belong

Paring: Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Summary: A little glimpse into the life you’ve built in Hawkins, side by side with your soulmate, Steve, as the two of you get ready to celebrate Halloween. (Continuation of Feral Love, it’ll make more sense if you’ve read the series, however it should be fine to read on its own!)

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: maybe some language? suggestive themes if you squint, briefest mention of loss and mourning, but the rest is strictly absolute fluff.

A/N: hi y’all! It’s been a minute since I’ve posted! Like mentioned above, this is a little continuation of Feral Love, but I think it can still be read alone if you haven’t read that series! Either way, I hope y’all enjoy! Title is from paper route’s ‘sugar’. Also, please don’t mind me scrambling to catch up on missing the last two weekends of lil Halloween fics lol. Thanks for your patience and support! <3

A year has passed since you and Steve crossed paths in this life. One year since you, quite literally, crashed into his house and life, escaping your family and their destructive values. One year since you faced your sister, Victoria, to rid the world of her cruelty, to keep Steve, his friends, Hawkins, all safe and sound.

One year since you made a deal with Death herself, sending you into the Upside Down, keeping your end of the promise, so long as Steve was kept safe.

It had been one year since Death saw the love you had for Steve, the way you had sacrificed your own life to protect him. The way you vowed to destroy the Upside Down to keep everyone safe, to finally end the pain and suffering that had been looming over Hawkins for years. Death saw your efforts and resilience driven by your love, and gave you a second chance, letting you continue and keep this life with Steve, for as long as life would actually allow.

“Steve, honey, can you hang these lights for me? You’re taller than I am.” You ask Steve, holding out a bundle of string lights to him while you pout his way. Steve’s eyes narrow through his wire frame glasses at you, but still can’t hide the smile curling at the edge of his lips as he grabs the lights.

Steve steps up to the counter, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, and you feel the same butterflies you’ve felt every day this past year with him. You’ve felt this way in this life and your shared past life, and you can’t imagine existing without the warmth and safety his tiny gestures hold.

It’s been one year, and you’re happy. The two of you are truly safe. You moved in with Steve and Robin into the house they shared, and you eventually opened a cozy, quaint cafe in downtown Hawkins. You loved selling tea blends, knowing you were making a small, but good difference in people’s lives when they indulged in their hot cups of tea. You made others feel cozy, comfortable, and safe.

‘Safe’ had to have become your favourite word in the past year.

You lean your elbows onto the counter, watching as Steve presses up on his toes to reach a wooden beam above him, hanging the string lights across old nails left behind by the previous owners. When he stretches up, a sliver of his hip is revealed as his cozy sweater rides up. You can’t help but let your gaze travel over his body, letting yourself become lost in the intimate memories you’ve shared with him in the last year. Heat creeps up your face, standing your peach fuzz on end as you continue to silently admire Steve from across the room.

“Sugar, if you just wanted to stare, you could’ve told me.” Steve teases, glancing over his shoulder at you. The nickname is still fairly new to you, making your stomach flip each time he uses it. It’s sticky sweet, dripping in admiration and care for you, and it’s just another one of those tiny gestures that wraps you up in that warm, safe feeling with Steve.

You clear your throat as you stand up, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Sorry, can’t help it, love.”

Steve finishes up the string of lights before plugging them in; a soft, orange haze glows over the cafe, making the atmosphere even warmer. Your face lights up at the change across the shop, and Steve notices, smiling as he admires your happiness before striding across the room to meet you. His hands wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and you collapse into a hug, arms squeezing him back with a great force that makes him laugh.

“Anything else you want me to hang up?” Steve asks, one hand reaching to your back, gently rubbing it as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You shake your head, face buried in the soft, knit yarn of his sweater.

“That was the last of it. Thank you, love.” You mumble, getting lost in the comfort of the hug. “We’re ready for the best time of the year, now!”

Steve chuckles, pulling your face back gently as he looks down at you, hand caressing your cheek. “And we can actually enjoy fall together, this time.”

You press up on your feet, lips meeting his to kiss him gently, and Steve smiles into the kiss as he hugs your body closer to his. He flicks his tongue against your bottom lip, and you part your lips, taking him in, sighing into the kiss as it deepens. Steve backs you up to the counter, lifting you onto it before kissing across your jaw and down your neck, making you shiver under his touch.

“Steve!” You giggle, head lolling to the side as your eyes flutter shut in bliss while his soft lips linger on your neck.

“What? It’s not like the shop’s open right now.” Steve teases, nipping at your skin, earning a whimper out of you as he soothed the spot over with his tongue.

“Yeah, but-“ You pause, holding back a groan as his large hands trail up under your shirt, fingers tracing over your belly as he reaches further up. “- Let’s go home, love. We can finish this there.”

Steve sighs, resting his head on your shoulder for a moment in defeat as you giggle again, and he pulls back, admiring the way you looked flustered. He smirks before pulling his hands out of your shirt and nodding.

“You’re right, sorry, sugar.” Steve says, holding a hand out to help you down off the counter. He doesn’t let go when you reach the floor, only laces his fingers between yours. “It’s getting late, anyway.”

The two of you gather your belongings before you lock up shop, and begin walking to Steve’s car. You give his hand a quick squeeze before letting go, smiling up at him.

“Keep calling me that, and I’ll be putty in your hands all night, love.”

———

The month of October was filled with Halloween festivities. Nearly every day you kept busy with fun ways to celebrate with Steve, and usually the rest of the Party, too.

It was such a welcomed change compared to the year prior. From adventuring to the pumpkin patch with Steve and the kids, getting lost in a corn maze, scary movie nights— that you swore Steve only planned to cuddle with you more— and planning out your costume, these memories were slowly becoming priority in your mind over the war during last year’s October.

“What do you mean you’ve never had apple cider?” You whisper across the cafe’s counter, staring at El in disbelief.

She stares back for a moment before shrugging, not understanding the big fuss. While she’s a little older now- all the kids are, slowly growing away from the title as children- she still holds the same innocence and pure wonder she’s always carried. You wonder if it’ll be something she wears no matter what age she reaches.

You quickly whip up a batch of hot cider for the party, pouring it into round, little mugs for them all. You hand El’s mug to her, and as the warmth hits her palms, she beams a bright smile as a thank you before rushing back to the table.

Overhearing Dustin grumble, “Aw man, how’d you get yours first?!” to El, you giggle, looking over to Steve, setting up some pumpkins the kids painted in the cafe’s front window, humming to the songs over the radio.

Not wanting to bother him, you snap your fingers, sending the mugs up in the air before smoothly sailing over to the round table in the corner of the shop the kids have claimed as their own. You watch as Will’s eyes follow the mugs from above before they float down gently to the table. He’s wearing a grin that could be seen for miles; you can only hope and help where you can to make sure that happiness he always deserves lasts forever.

In a way, these kids that had become Steve’s found family, became yours, too. Just how Steve would do anything to protect them, you’d also do whatever you could to keep them safe and happy.

Arms wrap around your waist from behind before Steve speaks softly, “You might become their favourite grown-up next.”

You chuckle as you spin in his arms, admiring the way the orange lights glow over Steve’s features as he smiles down at you. You press up on the balls of your feet, reaching to kiss him softly for a moment before letting yourself back down.

“What? No way, they adore you too much.” You say to Steve, to which he shrugs playfully.

“You say that like they don’t adore you, too.” Steve counters, leaning down to kiss you. As his lips meet yours, a round of hollers and comments like ‘Gross! Ew!’, echo out into the room. Steve sighs, rolling his eyes before looking back at the party.

“Hey, shitheads, behave,” He warns as he points a finger to them. You tilt your head into his chest, trying to hide your laughter. “You’re lucky Y/N didn’t hex the cider.”

Feigning offense, you gasp, playfully pushing Steve’s arm as you face the kids, half of them pausing mid-sip.

“Don’t listen to this big goofball, I would never.” You reassure, and the kids laugh it off, going back to their conversations. Max, though, still looks over at you curiously, before asking what’s on her mind.

“Don’t you jump off the roof or something on Halloween?” Max asks, genuinely curious. The question still takes you aback; you never mentioned that tradition to anyone except…

“Shut up!” Dustin hisses across the table, and Max shrugs as she holds her hands up.

“What? You’re the one that talked about it!”

Dustin’s eyes flick from Max to you, to Steve, nervous, but you laugh heartily at his reaction.

“To answer the question Mr. Big Mouth had given you, technically yes,” You begin, taking a sip of your own cider, watching as Dustin shrinks in his seat, smiling off his own embarrassment. The rest of the conversations fade out, all eyes on you, patiently waiting. “But usually, it’s with the coven… which doesn’t really exist anymore, so there’s no point or excitement with just one witch, really.”

“What? Are you kidding? That’d still be so cool!” Lucas exclaims, and you watch Will and Mike nod in agreement.

“It was just- it’s very silly alone, you guys would not be interested in seeing that.” You try playing it off, but the kids all speak up at once, spewing their thoughts about the cafe.

“What was it for?” El asks, speaking up just enough above the chatty voices among her. The kids quiet down once more, looking back to you for another answer.

Steve gives your arm a comforting squeeze before you go on.

“It’s kind of a tie-in for Samhain, at least for our coven it was. Everyone has different ways of celebrating.” You explain cautiously, hoping it made sense to everyone around you. “Samhain is the time of year the veil is the thinnest between our world and the afterlife. So, jumping was sort of my coven’s way of cleansing our minds and souls before we would communicate with our ancestors. Y’know, kind of like… shaking off a bad mood.

“It’s not necessary for me now, though. It’s simply a ritual without much meaning when I have no one to contact anymore…” You trail off, thinking of how you’re the last left of your family, your coven. You shake your head as if to shake out the negative thoughts, “But- but that’s alright! We’re making new traditions, and I’m thankful you’ve all included me in your fun festivities this year.”

Understanding not to continue the subject, the kids nod and move on back to their previous conversations. You look back at Steve to see the small smile of sympathy he gives you, and reach for his hand, squeezing in return as a silent ‘thank you’.

———

Later that night, as you and Steve climb under the covers, cuddling up into one another, the topic comes back up once more.

“Hey, sugar,” Steve pulls you close to him, kissing your head softly. You stay silent, wrapping your arms around his body. “I’m sorry about earlier. The kids— they didn’t mean it, but-“

“That’s all, Steve. The kids didn’t mean it, they’re just curious, as they should be. It’s okay, really.” You interject, trying to reassure Steve. Still, he sighs heavily, tilting your face up to his with his finger lifting your chin gently.

“What about your parents?”

“My- my parents? Steve, you know what happened last year, right?”

“Right- yeah- yes— I know that.” Steve speaks quickly, “Can’t you try to communicate with them this year, though?”

The thought has crossed your mind many times this month alone, and you have considered it, but ultimately, what would you say? What would they say? Would they even answer to any attempts of divination? The relationship you had with your family was always strained, it wasn’t really worth the effort to reach out, even into the liminal space.

Still, even if it were worth attempting, overall, this was where you were meant to be all along. Wherever Steve was, that’s where you belonged. Nothing could change that force built upon a bond between soulmates.

“That part of my life is well over now, love.” You reply, voice shaky yet certain in your words. You reach up to cup Steve’s face in your hands, gazing at him with admiration and unconditional love. “I’ve found my real family, here, with you and yours.”

Steve stares back, searching your face for any signs of doubt or regret, but you remain calm, holding your statement strong. Steve runs his hands through your hair gently, peppering your face in soft and sweet kisses, making you giggle under his touch.

“I-“ he pauses to kiss your temple, “- love you-“ another kiss to your forehead, “-forever-“ he kisses the swell of your cheek as you continue laughing, “- and ever-“ a kiss to your nose, “- and ever”, his lips finally meet yours, and you melt into the kiss.

As you pull back with a grin, you look at Steve longingly before teasing him, “Sounds like someone else earned the nickname ‘sugar’.”

His face blushes up as he rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“You’ll always have a family with us. You’ll always have a place to call home with us.” Steve reassures, though you knew, you felt it strongly. Still, his affirmations were comforting, always.

“You are where I belong, Steve.” You murmur into the crook of his neck, kissing his skin lightly. Steve squeezes you again, at a loss of words perfect enough for a response.

Pulling back, you admire his features for a moment before speaking again, “We should get to sleep, we’ve got a big day tomorrow helping the kids with their costumes before trick-or-treating.”

“I think you are more excited for trick-or-treating than the party has ever been,” Steve teases, and you stick your tongue out in response.

“I’ve never done it before!” You counter, pinching Steve’s arm, to which he laughs at. “It’s a good thing Robin’s helping us with our zombie makeup.”

“I’m well aware you’ve never trick-or-treated, otherwise you wouldn’t have picked the most overrated Halloween costume,” Steve continues teasing, sneakily reaching his fingers out to begin tickling you. Your laugh rings out loudly through the room, and Steve is at ease when the sound hits his ears, admiring the smile growing across your face.

Steve pauses for a moment, drinking the sight of you, joyful, lost in safety and bliss with his goofy antics as your giggles slow down. You take the opportunity to flip the two of you over, hovering above Steve. His grin mirrors yours while he blushes again underneath you, reaching his hand up to cradle the side of your face. You lean into his touch, still catching your breath from your laughter.

Your eyes dart over to the clock on the nightstand, reading 12:00 AM, and glance back down at Steve excitedly. “It’s midnight, it’s officially Halloween!”

Steve chuckles at your enthusiasm, “Happy Halloween, sugar.” He pulls you down to catch your lips in a soft, slow kiss. The spark you’ve had in this life and the past, had never faded. It’d continue to shine bright into the next life, too.

Pulling back a bit, you gaze at Steve, feeling lucky that things fell into place the way they did one year ago, and how you’d never, ever take any moment longer with Steve for granted.

As if reading your mind, Steve murmurs against your lips your thought from earlier, “You are where I belong, Y/N.”

———

Taglist (from both S.H. oneshot and FL lists): @harringtown @harrington-ofhawkins @nxncywheeler @ilovebucketbarnes @stranger-noah @cececroft @heart-eye-harrington @comedy-witch @mochminnie @starssscary @anotherr-fine-mess @asheseiler

#steve harrington x witch!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things x witch!reader #you are where i belong #feral love #my fics #no i still dont have a name for my lil bundle of halloween fics mind ur biz

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iggy-of-fans · 5 years

Text

Of being a Ladybug

So this one will Hopefully be a little less angst and a little less salt buy still a good read. Hope you enjoy!

Cons of being a Ladybug

There are a lot of things about being Ladybug that made Marinette's life difficult. The fact she always got sleepy in winter, the fact that the cold affected her more strongly than before. The way she never got enough sleep because she had to patrol. Having to deal with Chat Noir and his tantrums and flirting. The way she sometimes had to ditch her other responsibilities in favour of fighting Akumas. Hawkmoth. But right now, the thing that got to Marinette the most was that she couldn't call Lila out. Being Ladybug, a hero, meant she couldn't use being Ladybug for selfish reasons. She'd learned her lesson the last time, and in the end it hadn't even been worth it. But as Marinette, she could at the very least gather some evidence, just in case she made good on her threat. Adrien may think taking the high road was best, but Marinette could see the damage she was subtly dealing to Alya, and also to the others, a toxic kind of take and never give mentality growing in the class in the week since her return. Little things, like Kim asking to copy Max's homework instead of simply getting help with his dyslexia, Alix getting annoyed at Nathaniel for paying more attention to the art than to her when they'd hung out last, Mylene getting frustrated and feeling neglected when Ivan took her to practices instead of dates. Things that had never bothered any of her classmates before were starting to cause rifts and fights. Lila wasn't the best liar, anyone could figure her out with half a brain cell and a smartphone. Her power really came in manipulating situations in her favour, her ability to cry on command and have people feel sorry for her. But her ability to read people was her only real genius. She always knew just which buttons to push to make people feel guilty, insecure or "righteous" fury. So it was subtle, but the classroom was becoming toxic to be in. Marinette, being so giving and kind, was the most taken advantage of.

But as it turned out, Marinette didn't really have to do anything at all. Alya did the work of outing Lila by posting an interview on "The Amazing Lila Rossi, the New Every Day Ladybug and Ladybug's best friend!"

Marinette felt bad for Alya, but also a bit vindicated, since maybe this might finally teach her to fact check. Marinette crossed her fingers in hope of Alya getting off with a slapped wrist and sent the video to Penny Rolling and the Italian embassy general e-mail. It was Sunday night, at least she wouldn't have to wait long to see the results.

Monday morning burned bright with hope, as Marinette saw a special interview announced from Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Prince Ali and several other names Marinette didn't recognize. Nadja Chamak was not going to be hosting though, as several people being interviewed had complained about "unprofessionalism" of the Parisian News anchor. Marinette shrugged, at least she wouldn't have to babysit. She went to school, hearing whispers of LadyBlog being shut down by Officials due to inaccurate information. Marinette sagged slightly, 'that sucks', she thought. She'd hoped Alya wouldn't be too badly affected. Suddenly a shadow fell over her and she looked up to the frowning face of Adrien Agreste.

"Adrien! Morning good! Good Morning! Hi!" Marinette stuttered.

"Did you have anything to do with the LadyBlog being shut down?" Adrien asked, his eyes spelling disappointment.

"What? It's being shut down? Why? And what do you mean me? What power do I have over anyone, let alone Alya to shut that down?" Marinette asked, a negative feeling travelling down her spine. What the hell was Adrien on about?

He smiled reassuringly suddenly," You're right. What was I thinking. You may be our everyday Ladybug, but it's not like you have the influence to get a free blog shut down."

Adrien smiled, patted her shoulder, and walked past her towards the classroom. Marinette stood frozen. Did… Did Adrien think… Did he think she was… Worth less? Because she wasn't rich? She stood there past the final ring of the bell, until Tikki popped her head out.

"Marinette, are you okay?" she asked quietly. She was highly dissatisfied with Adrien at the moment, but needed to focus on her own charge.

"Am I… Did Adrien… I thought he was better than that…. But… He actually thinks because… That because I'm not rich, that I have no power…?" sheshe frazed it like a question, but Tikki and Marinette both knew the truth.

"You should get to class, Marinette" Tikki said instead. Shaking herself, Marinette started walking, only for the alarms to start.

"Tikki, spots on!" Marinette shouted, and took off towards the sounds of crashes.

Alya woke up Monday morning excited to see the result of her post the night before. She'd worked with Lila all weekend to get it perfect and now the fruits of her labour would be sewn. She opened the blog and stopped. Yesterday, before posting the video, she'd had 675 followers. This morning, only 231 people were left. She scrolled to the comments.

"Oh yes, I saved Jagged's non-existent cat, from his non-existent private jet, on a tarmac which civilians aren't allowed onto. And I came to Paris months after Ladybug started saving Paris, but I was supposed to be the original and I just recommended my friend instead!... Yeah right! Who the hell believes this crap? "

" my favorite line in this video is where she claims to have grown up as jagged stones favorite person, but doesn't even get his home city right!"

" oh ladybug totally loves chat, she just wants to keep it on the dl. {attachment} this video taken a couple weeks ago while chat threw a tantrum cause she refused to go on a date with him"

"Clara Nightingale and I were ACTUALLY in the same dance class, and I don't remember a sausage with a mouth being in that class"

"if ladybug can heal her supposed tinnitus, why isn't she curing cancer?"

The comments continued along that line when suddenly a loading error came up. Alya scowled and reloaded the page, only for a [401: error. The page you are trying to load no longer exists]. Alya paled.

"No! No no no no no no no no!" she chanted as she tried to reload it, and then tried to go in to check the coding. Everything was shut down. Alya started to tear up. This couldn't be happening! She was sure Lila wasn't a liar. Marinette just didn't like not being the center of attention, just as Lila said. Marinette just, just this once, couldn't find the good in a person, but Laya could. Alya opened Google and looked up 'Jagged Stone pets', 'Jagged Stone cat', 'Clara Nightingale dance school', 'Prince Ali charity foundation', and finally 'Lila Rossi'. The only thing that came from the search was that Alya felt like a total idiot for not believing Marinette. And an Italian school site. She clicked it and had Google translate the page.

"STUDENT COMMITS SUICIDE AFTER SEVERE CASE OF BULLYING"

The name of the victim was never released, but schools in Italy were all warned about Lila Rossi. According to the article, this should be in her school files… Why did Mlle. Bustier not warn them? A knocking on the front door distracted Alya from her screen.

"EXCUSE ME?!" Alya's mother screamed, and Alya bolted to the door. Her mother rounded on her the second she opened the door.

"Alya! What is the meaning of this? You're being sued for misinformation and defamation and slander!" her mother continued, holding papers in the air and waving them about. Even still in her housecoat with messy hair, her mother struck a terrifying picture. Alya shrunk in on herself. There would be no sneaking out of this one.

Rose looked at her phone again, her eyes dim and her head bowed. Phrases like "I have never heard of this girl before", and "if this is the type of persons you surround yourself with", "Perhaps I was mistaken in trusting you", and most hurtful of all "This is the last time you will hear from me" jumped out of the email at her from Prince Ali. She had been so excited in her last message to him, telling him how Lila had told her of their adventure together, and Lila was giving her such good advice on her singing, dancing, songwriting and more. Her email had burst with praise from and for Lila, and wanting to hear Ali's version of events as well. Usually he emailed back within a few hours, but this time it had taken over a week to hear back from him. In the email he had sent, was an attachment to Alya's interview of Lila and a short message, saying only that he had never met Lila Rossi, and he'd thought Rose was smarter than to believe everything she heard, and if she kept that kind of company and believed such outrageous lies then perhaps he shouldn't have contact with her anymore, since she was seemingly too gullible and too naïve to take his friendship seriously. Tears dripped down her cheeks onto her phone. Why was Marinette always right about these things.

Jagged Stone watched the video that Marinette had sent to Penny on his big screen in his suite in Paris. He was not at all impressed with her obvious name dropping, made up stories of her greatness, and claiming he'd written a song about her. Marinette's short message of "HI Penny, I understand you and Jagged are crazy busy, but this interview ended up on my friend's website, and I just couldn't ever remember Jagged mentioning a pet other than Fang. I've even looked at some older interviews where he said he'd hatched and raised Fang when Jagged was only 15! I have no idea where this girl is getting her information, but I didn't want you to think that all of Paris had completely lost their minds and thought this heads up might put you in a better space to deal with weird questions if they ever come up. - Love, Marinette"

Jagged listened to the little chit on the screen claiming shevd received tinnitus from saving his cat. Geez! Did this girl have any idea the kind of implications this could have on his musical career?! The hell is wrong with kids today? And the girl interviewing her never even checked her sources? Poor Marinette, stuck with such complete idiots and liars. He really should try to talk Sabine into letting him take Marinette on tour with him again. This was getting ridiculous. He frowned even harder when Clara Nightingale was accused of "being jealous and stealing" sausage girls dance moves. He started feeling his blood boil slightly as he distantly heard Penny shouting into a phone for lawyers and interviews and "gosh darn it, anyone but some idiotic French Anchor". He honestly wasn't sure which of them was more pissed. Himself or his fiancée.

Clara Nightingale broke her phone on the far wall of her apartment. Two decades of dance and singing lessons, of poetry and practice and some little chit half her age thinks she can tell people that she stole it? Tears at the corners of her eyes, she was grateful Jagged had sent it to her with the assurance that Penny was already setting up interviews and lawyers. Thank Ladybug and all that is good for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. If she hadn't had the foresight to send this video to them, then there would have been absolute hell at their next public appearance. She glared at her broken phone on the floor. Steal her moves, did she?

At 4am in Metropolis city, Lois rolled over and sleepily answered her phone.

"Yes?"

"I know it's early, Lois, but I have a job for you in Paris…" came from the other end. Louis bolted up in bed.

"I'm listening"...

To be Continued

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bookspined · 3 years

Text

❝ that’s all history is after all: scar tissue. ❞

{ cis-man, he/him } huh, who’s FROY GUTIERREZ? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually SCORPIUS MALFOY. he is a TWENTY-TWO year old PUREBLOOD wizard who is A HEALING APPRENTICE. he is known for being CAPTIOUS, RETICENT, FACETIOUS, DISMISSIVE, and DRAMATIC but also RESOURCEFUL, CONSCIENTIOUS, FERVENT, INNOVATIVE, and OBSERVANT, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song IN DREAMS BY BEN HOWARD. i hear he is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on him. { merry, 24, gmt, she/they }

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (MCU), Simon Tam (Firefly), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins)

pinterest [blood, medical imagery tw]

wanted connection ideas

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty-three Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Lucius Malfoy & Astoria Céline Malfoy (née Greengrass) [Not biologically Astoria’s due to her health, if you ever point this out he’ll flay your eyeballs] Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: His pet toad, Jarvis, recently passed away. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovative, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventive, logical, practical skills and self assertion; lack of attachment to people outside his circle and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissive, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetious, rigid, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubborn. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic

HOGWARTS HOUSE ANALYSIS

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well. After a few years he leant into the sarcastic vague-snobbishness to hide the core of overwhelming anxiety.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t really due to him being a model student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on.

Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest. Some people he beat just to spite cause he hates them. It worked, whatever.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Even though the war culminated far earlier in this verse I imagine Scor would have had to have been relatively sheltered as a child if not for how emotionally sensitive and prone to periods of ill-health he was, it was definitely for his own safety. He is still the grandson of a known high-ranking Death Eater and that made him a media target and put one on his back for anyone else that might happen to be watching.

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, potion-making, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic are what define him to the Order. While everyone kind of knows who he hung out with at school and who his friends are he is deliberately very mischievous with releasing rumours and misleading people. He deliberately keeps his cards very close to his chest so most people don’t know that he is aligned with anyone, he usually uses glamours or a scarf to conceal his identity if he has to.

While he is knowledgeable about healing and anatomy, he is the WORST at taking care of himself. The literal embodiment of Healers make the worst patients, tends to forgo sleep and basic bodily needs if he’s locked into what he’s focusing on. Sometimes needs reminders to sleep and eat, like a child.

Healing is the most satisfying part of his life and he would never give it up, he likes to experiment as he has a fascination with magic and muggle science and where they might intersect. A fucking nerd honestly. While he thinks he’s being fairly subtle about it a large part of his academic life has been doused in research into blood maledictions, for obvious reasons. He does his best not to flutter too obviously around his Mum. She is capable and ten times stronger than he is.

Lives in a small studio flat in Diagon Alley that is mostly stacks of books and makeshift shelves.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm, his existence is an endless heat seeking mission.

Went to one Slug Club meeting and used his time to verbally berate and or challenge most of the contacts in attendance, he was not asked to return.

Potions Club, Charms Club, used to sometimes be willing to be dragged to Dueling Club but didn’t enjoy himself.

Plays quite a bit of chess.

Bruises like a fucking peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled.

Is a very skilled pianist almost entirely due to his Grandmother’s tutelage.

Surprisingly great with children/toddlers/babies, no one including himself expected this, he mostly feared them beforehand.

Bit of a mummy’s boy in that he practically GLOWS when people talk of Astoria’s achievements.

When he has time off from healing he will have chipped black nail varnish on.

Highly intelligent but rarely manages to match a pair of socks, chews his quills but no one else’s.

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

[ CREDIT : CHARACTER PSD template by @karmahelper (defunct url) I tried to find a current social this week by messaging around but couldn’t find anything unfortunately. Forgot to copy this over from the google doc! ]

#potterintro #finally #sorry if this is missing anything

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linenflower · 3 years

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Tangled alternate universe

Little clarifications.

I thought about this idea while in the shower

My first language is spanish, I apologize for any mistakes

The history is a lot similar to the original with some changes

This could be cringy

This is entierly my imagination and I'm not flawless

Finally, this is my first time writing an idea like this

I was thinking in some kind of alternate universe, like a parallel timeline and I came up with something incredible.

So, what if when Rapunzel traveled back in time during the episode "No time like the past" she created a whole new series of events and a new chronology. When she lectures Eugene, his personality changes and he mentally grows in another direction. He values friendship and companionship more. He reflects more on his actions, he's a little less egocentric, he's still with Stalyan but they are still a couple of thieves.

By the time Rapunzel is 18, Eugene steals the tiara with his girfriend/fiancee (during the years and a new point of view, they have grown closer and they are a more mature couple, they really know each other, and as we saw during the series, Stalyan isn't really a bad person). The pair arrives at the tower, followed by Max, they are knocked out by Rapunzel, the story continues in a similar way as the original movie: the deal about the tiara and the lanterns. During the I've got a Dream song, Eguene and Stalyan want an island filled with money away from the Baron (In this timeline, both had escaped Vardaron and the Baron hoping to create a new and free life, the Baron hires the Stabbington brothers to bring the couple back).

Following the reveal of Rapunzels powers, during a midnight conversation, Rapunzel is amazed by the love displayed betwen Eugene and Stalyan. Her dream now is not just seeing the lanterns but also falling in love. Gothel confronts Rapunzel, mother knows best reprise, and all that. By the time they arrive at Corona, Eugene and Stalyan had become like big siblings to Rapunzel.

During the day celebrating, Rapunzel sumbles upon a handmaiden from the castle, their eyes meet for just a second, both felt something in their chests for just a second, the woman became lost within the dancing crowd. Rapunzel was left confusied, only remebering those beautiful hazel eyes in a light blue dress.

In the night, the trio saw the lanterns, Rapunzel praises and thanks Eugene and Stalyan for everything, she gives them the tiara, they refuse it. In land, Eugene and Stalyan argue about the tiara and finally being able to live freely. Stalyan says that they can now leave everything beyond but Eugene is hesitant. Suddenly the Stabbington brothers appear catching them off guard. Like in the movie, Gothel had manipulated the brothers, the boat setup happens, Rapunzel is brought back to the tower and the death sentence.

With the help of Max and the Snuggly Duckling gang, Eugene and Stalyan escape prison and head to the tower. While climbing the tower, Stalyan is able to enter but Gothel stabs her and closes the window. Stalyan tries to crawl near Rapunzel but Gothel stops her. Gothel then tells Rapunzel how Stalyan was willing to leave her with the tiara. Rapunzel starts to cry but Stalyan, seeing the end near tells her about being scared, about how she has been scared of her father in the same way Rapunzel is scared of her mother, but unlike her, Rapunzel was willing to stand up and build her freedom.

Rapunzel then confronts her mother, saying that if she doesn't let her heal Stalyan, she will cut her hair. Gothe agrees and sets Rapunzel free, she aproaches her friend and when about to heal her, Stalyan apologizes and cuts Rapunzels hair. Gothel panics and taking advantage of the situation, Pascal commits murder opening the window and pushing Gothel out of it. Eugene finally enters the room only to find her love lying in the ground. He starts crying, making Rapunzel do the same.

When the first of Rapunzels tears land on Stalyans face, a light starts to emerge from her wound. Fine yellow strokes of the sundrop comence to flood the room. Stalyans eyes open and she thanks Rapunzel for giving her a the leap to have strenght in herself.

The trio travel again to Corona so that Rapunzel can reunite with her parents. They hug Rapunzel and shortly after Eugene and Stalyan too. Smiles and tears are shed.

The history ends with Rapunzel narrating her history, now wondering about her life in this new happily ever after. Eugene is seen holding the tiara and running in the palace halls trying to escape Rapunzel, only to trip over the new princess' lady in wating. She then gives the tiara back to Rapunzel, making their eyes cross again. Rapunzel thanks her and both share a smile.

The end

Congratulations to those who made it this far!! Well, so that's it, my reimagination of Tangled. Fell free to comment, I accept polite critique. Imaginig this scenario was awesome and if any one is curious, yeah, I made all this alternate universe so that Rapunzel is single when she meets Cassandra. In the future I'll try to expand in the history, maybe create a real fic or something, but only if the college lets me. Anyone is free to base more tales, draws, comics, or anything from this.

That's all for now! :D

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #stalyan #mother gothel #alternate timeline #alternate universe #tts cassandra #yeahImadeallofthistohaveRapunzelsingleforcass #tangled au

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drabbledragon · 4 years

Text

Linktober: Surprise

This post is very close to the day 4 deadline but honestly, I had a lot of fun creating and tampering with the plot! Be cautious, though, because there is quite a bit of violence in this one.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749021/chapters/65454667

Summary: A new friend is brought to camp, and it surprises a certain Ordonian

Warnings: Some violence

Day 4: Surprise

It was a surprisingly cold day out, Twilight mused, although that’s to be expected as the season goes further into fall. The cold, crisp air and colorful leaves reminded him of his home back in Ordon Village; if memory serves, he would be harvesting Ordonian pumpkins with Fado right now.

He sighed wistfully and tended to the campfire with a long stick. He wondered how everyone back home was doing. Beth, Talo, Malo, and certainly Colin missed him, and he was sure Fado was struggling to herd all the goats back into their house without his and Epona’s help. And of course there was his mentor, Rusl - well, one of his mentors, he supposed, now that he met Time - along with his wife, Uli, who were most likely busy taking care of their newborn child; it’s a shame that he was never able to meet their new baby, but if he knew anything about Rusl, he would excitedly tell Twilight all about his child from sunup to sundown.

And how could he forget Midna? Their meeting may have happened by chance but he felt that they were destined to meet. They had grown to be close friends during their travels across Hyrule - maybe even more than that - and not a single day goes by where he doesn’t think about her. He wondered what would happen if he managed to say what was on his mind before she disappeared into the Mirror of Twilight; if his thoughts and feelings would be enough to make her stay, or allow him to live in the Twilight Realm alongside her. He could only speculate at this point.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a tan snout poked at his shoulder.

“Wild, is that a bear?!” He shouted, and he looked up to see his protege sitting idly on the creature’s back, a goofy grin on his face.

“Yeah, isn’t it great? I was out looking for herbs when I found a bear following me around! He looked like he was hungry so I did a little bit of fishing for him -”

Which meant Wild had jumped into a river, Twilight frowned, again.

“- And then we became best friends! Like he watched me cook them by the fire and everything! Although he was starting to lose his patience towards the end.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if a bear watching him cook was just another daily occurrence. “ Anyways, did you know he’s a big fan of Hearty Salmon? I’m more of a Voltfin Trout guy myself but to each their own, y’know?”

Twilight was barely able to make it through the whole story without pinching the bridge of his nose, “ Wild, you can’t just bring a bear to camp. You know full - well that that thing likes to go through food and attack anything it sees moving.”

“But he won’t, I promise!” The smile from Wild’s face had now given way to a defensive look, “ He’s very polite and friendly and hasn’t done anything to hurt me at all! Plus you always let dogs and cats follow you around, and you don’t even care when Legend brings a whole flock of seagulls to camp!”

The Hero of Legend stopped whatever he was doing at the mention of his name and gave the two a pointed look, “ Hey, you two leave the seagulls out of this.” But he was paid no mind.

“That’s because cats, dogs, and seagulls aren’t actively trying to maul me to death!” The Ordonian’s voice dropped to a lower volume in order to prevent the others from overhearing. “ You know how many times I almost got killed by a bear? Eight, and five of those times were as a wolf. The last thing I need right now is to make that number nine, or to have anyone die thanks to some idiot bringing a bear into camp. Really, you’re like the only one here who’s constantly putting us in danger.”

Perhaps he went too far on that one. He watched all the fight leave his protege like a potion being drained of its contents, giving way to wide eyes and a pale complexion.

“Wait, Cub, I didn’t -”

But Wild didn’t want to hear it. With a gentle tug of the bear’s fur, the Hero of Wilds nudged his companion towards the forest and left, not a single hint of hesitance shown in his actions.

Twilight watched as the figure disappeared behind tall trees and overgrown bushes, and a large part of him just wanted to shift into his Twili form and run after their trail, but he paused instead.

Wait, why should Twilight go after him? Sure, he’s his mentor and all and he feels like he has a personal obligation to protect the kid but now that he thinks about it, hasn’t he been coddling him too much? Too many times has he taken to his Twili form to find a lost Wild that had wandered to the other half of a Hyrule just because he had a need for adventure, and too many times had he had to answer to Time for the crazy stunt his charge had decided to pull just for curiosity’s sake. Despite being 117 years old, Wild acted like a child - a feral child, at that - that would rather spend the whole day messing around in an open field rather than helping the people who needed him the most.

He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. Seriously, how was Wild supposed to grow up and take responsibility for himself if Twilight was always there to bail him out? Maybe it’s about time for the Hero of Wilds to learn that he can’t just do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He’ll learn in due time, Twilight assured himself, and he’ll be back by tonight for sure.

With that being said, he turned his back and went to go tend to the fire.

Wild wasn’t back that night. Everything seemed well among the remaining heroes, though: Warriors and Legend were locked in their usual banter, Wind and Four were telling exaggerated stories about their adventures, and Sky, Time, and Hyrule were all idly sitting by, amused by everyone’s antics; the only real difference tonight was Twilight and Wild, where the latter was nowhere to be found and the former worried profusely about his charge’s absence.

Twilight restlessly tapped his foot against the ground and stared into what Hyrule would call dinner. Seriously, where was Wild? The Ordonian thought that he would be back in maybe two, three hours max but it had been ten hours, and there was still no sign of him. Had he gotten hurt? Was he attacked by a hoard of Darias or Gerus that Hyrule often warned them about? Had a Zora grabbed him by the ankle and drowned him in a river? Twilight knew that his protege was very friendly towards Zoras so it really wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

“Go.”

He looked up to Time and stuttered out, “ H - Huh?”

Without ever shifting his gaze from the fire, he quietly whispered to his protege, “You’re worried about the cub, aren’t you? So you should go and find him; I’ll cover for you in the meantime.”

He processed the words for a few seconds, and then nodded. The old man was right: no matter how irresponsible, thoughtless, and careless Wild could be at times, he was still his protege, and as his mentor, Twilight should be there with him every step of the way, ready to help him up when he couldn’t find his footing in a situation. He left the group without so much as a sound, and as soon as he was out of sight, transformed into his Twili form and left, fervently following the scent of the former champion’s trail.

It had been about ten minutes by the time Twilight had finally found Wild. He was located in a small clearing of trees with, oddly enough, his bear companion laying down next to him; there was a small campfire going with a makeshift pot held over it, and the wolf could easily smell the tantalizing taste of Salmon Risotto.

He shook his head: this wasn’t the time to be salivating over the smell of real food. With a gentle command to his Shadow Crystal, his form shifted to that of a Hylian’s.

“Cub, I -”

Go away, Wild signed, and as if to emphasize, the large bear beside him growled.

The Ordonian immediately took a two steps back and sighed. This was going to be hard: not only did he have to worry about his friend fleeing if he got too close, but he also had to worry about a bear potentially running up and attacking him, and he really didn’t feel like defending himself from a creature twice his size. He finally chose to settle himself on the ground instead, intent on making himself seem as small and non - threatening as possible.

“Listen, I didn’t mean anything I said back there, alright? We got stranded in Hyrule’s Hyrule, we’ve been travelling for days, infected monsters are always showing up and trying to kill us, and I guess I was thinking about what was going on back home, so I was just really stressed out this afternoon. When you brought a bear to camp, I guess that was the final straw and I just took out all my anger on you. I mean, yeah, you really shouldn’t bring a bear of all things to a camp but that thing about you always putting us into trouble was completely wrong. If anything, we put ourselves into trouble, and it has nothing to do with you being here.”

He watched anxiously as his protege stirred the pot, never daring to meet Twilight’s own concerned gaze. He could see the bear beside Wild carefully watching him, paws resting readily on the ground as if it was anticipating for the Hero of Twilight’s one bad slip - up. After what seemed like centuries, the former champion finally let go of his ladle and brought his hands up to sign again,

You’re wrong, and that made Twilight lean forward, my whole life’s been nothing but bringing trouble to everyone. Back when my Hyrule wasn’t destroyed, everything I ever did just made things worse: I followed Zelda around, and she hated me; I protected people from danger, and now the Yiga are trying to kill me; I did everything I possibly could to prevent Zelda from dying, and I literally ended up dying right in the middle of Fort Hateno, and I was lucky that Impa was willing to put me in the Shrine of Resurrection. Now I’m here with eight different Links from eight different timelines and it looks like everywhere I go, trouble always follows. Just two weeks ago I led a bunch of Bokoblins to us because I took a couple of their weapons, and then five days ago I dyed Warriors’s hair green because I tossed him a green potion and it hit a branch and spilled all over him.

“Well that could happen to anyone,” Twilight interrupted, “ Those bottles are fragile so one small hit and they’ll shatter.”

Fine, but what about everything else? The Yiga, my Zelda, my Hyrule - everything’s a mess because I can’t get my life together; I can’t even remember what my life was like in the first place!

“That’s different! The part about your Hyrule being destroyed is all Ganon’s fault, not yours!”

Then why couldn’t I live up to be a true Hero of Courage like the rest of you? Why couldn’t I just stop this whole thing from happening in the first place?

Twilight was growing frustrated. Where was Wild getting the notion that he could’ve prevented an immortal evil demon from corrupting his Guardians? He was just a 17 year old kid back then, for Hylia’s sake!

He opened his mouth to respond back, retort at the ready, when a sudden axe whizzed by and lodged itself into the tree behind him. His surprised gaze quickly met Wild’s for a brief moment before he abruptly stood up, Ordonian sword at the ready. Just a few seconds later, a horde of snarling enemies pushed their way from the forest and surrounded the heroes from all sides.

The Hero of Twilight knitted his brows as he slowly stepped back toward the center of the clearing, “ Darias? But I thought Hyrule said they only show up around Death Mountain!”

“Infected.” Was all Wild whispered back, but Twilight completely understood. It had become a common occurrence by now to see monsters that they were sure only showed up in one place and one timeline now showing up all over different eras; and as if some of them having to fight monsters that they never encountered before wasn’t enough, the enemies’ blood seemed to make them stronger, allowing them to have the upperhand on any poor passerby they could fight.

And it looks like Twilight and Wild were a couple of those poor passersby.

The Hero of Twilight swiftly leaned his head away as one of the Darias swung its axe and in the same breath, the former pierced its chest and forced his sword up, causing the enemy to crumple to the ground in defeat. He rose his sword out of the corpse and grimaced: black blood, these are infected.

He perked up when he heard the dull thuds of feet running towards him and ducked just in time to avoid a monster from either side going to swing at him with their respective axes. He winced when the sound of two heads clunking filled the quiet night air and hastily got back onto his feet to slash at the two Darias writhing on the ground.

He felt light on his feet as he continued to attack the oncoming enemies. Some came to attack him on their own while others stayed stubbornly in pairs, but the process was all the same regardless: step, lean, duck, sidestep, block, spin, and end his foe with a well - practiced stab. If there were two coming at him, he just needed to be quicker, and that was no problem for a hero who was used to facing five Shadow Beasts at a time.

Every now and then he would catch a quick glimpse of his protege fighting just a few steps beside him, and just like always, every attack was graceful and cleverly calculated. The Ordonian grinned: Wild may act like a child at times, but he took his fighting seriously, and it showed through his undeterred concentration. No enemy should have ever made the mistake of crossing paths with the Champion of Hyrule.

The last enemy fell down in a graceless heap, and Twilight wasted no time in ending its life with an Ending Blow. There was something poetic about it, he mused as he sheathed his sword, ending a battle with an attack that his predecessor had taught him long ago.

He took an eager step forward towards his protege, congratulatory praises at the ready, when a scaled hand reached from behind and dug into his shoulder.

“Twilight!”

Wild’s shocked shriek rang through the air and Twilight had to do everything in his power to make sure that his pained yelp didn’t join it. His other hand scrambled to grab at the Daria’s wrist and when he did, he used every bit of energy he had left to force it back. The threat of an axe raised just above his head made adrenaline rush through his veins, and he became acutely aware of the blood running down his shoulder and soaking into his tunic; but he couldn’t pay any mind to it, because he needed to focus on biding time for a panicked Wild so he could swipe through his Sheikah Slate and find the weapon he needed.

But he didn’t need to wait for that because in a blink of an eye, a rush of brown fur dug its fangs into the enemy’s side and pushed its body aside, freeing the Hero of Twilight from the Daria’s grip. He watched the brown mass - which he now noticed was Wild’s bear companion - tear at the infected foe with sharp white claws and no mercy. The animal finally stepped back when the creature had been torn to shreds, and took a few seconds to make sure it was dead.

Twilight’s breath hitched when the bear started to pad towards him. He wouldn’t necessarily say that he had a fear of bears per se, but the sight of the very same creature that liked to use him for hunting practice was walking towards him did tend to make him feel a little bit unnerved.

However, to his complete and utter surprise, instead of the animal coming over to attack him, it instead gently nudged at his side and whined.

He froze. Was this bear trying to comfort him?

And with that very same suspicion in mind, the Hero of Twilight reached his free hand forward and tentatively placed it on the creature’s head, ruffling the fur in the same way the other Links did when he was a wolf.

“You saved me back there,” He smiled sincerely, “ Thank you.”

The creature yawned back in response.

He startled when he felt a gentle hand touch his good shoulder, and turned just in time to see the Hero of Wilds offering him a red potion.

“For your shoulder,” He urged, and when he saw his mentor ready to protest, he added in a quick, “ Don’t worry, I got 25 more in my bag.”

Twilight drank it greedily, and felt its healing effects immediately. He could dimly feel the gentle knitting of skin beneath his tunic, and when he looked at the injury, he found that there was nothing left but a few white scars; but even those would fade in a day or so.

He looked to see the former champion staring at the ground with his curtain of hair hiding his eyes, “ Jeeze, that was stupid of me. I should’ve kept an extra set of arrows at the ready; I could’ve helped you the second that Daria got you.”

“You did help me, well -” The Ordonian patted the bear standing quietly beside him. “ - your bear helped me, but you know what I mean. Sure, the thing saved me and all but if it wasn’t for you taming him in the first place, I wouldn’t have a ten foot tall animal here to save me. So really, because of you, I avoided getting an axe to the head.”

The Hero of Wilds beamed at him and for some reason, his small smile reminded him of Colin’s back home.

Ah, he wondered how Ordon Village was doing back home; how much Colin, Beth, Talo, and Malo grew up while he was away, and how Rusl and Uli were doing with their newborn, and how Mayor Bo and Ilia were running and keeping the town safe, and how Fado was doing with preparing the ranch for the winter; and how could he forget Midna? The leader of the Twili, the one who was always there to guide him on his adventure, the one he had grown to love. He missed them all dearly, but he knew he wasn’t alone.

Twilight ruffled a hand through his protege’s hair, “ Y’know, as much trouble as you are, I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Because when Wild laughed, he was reminded that the Hero of Wilds was his family, too, and he would do anything to protect the ones he loved.

#linkeduniverse #hero of twilight #hero of wilds #fanfic #linktober2020

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

Text

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 13 - In Which Charles Vane Wanders Towards Domesticity Via Bareknuckle Boxing And Jack Feels Feelings

Charles has been... not ignoring Jack – he's never cold or brusque – brusquer than usual, anyway. But he is giving Jack space that he's never really given him before. Space that they've never really had, living in doorless squalid squats always in arms reach of each other and often closer. But it's fairly easy to stay out of each other's way in a house this big.

And Jack has been exerting plenty of effort to stay out of Charles's way. Unfortunately, Charles has noticed – how could he not, when Jack routinely followed him like a particularly persistent shadow. And damn Anne for pointing that fact out, for now Jack can't help but acknowledge the truth of his long infatuation – there, that's a good word for it – infatuation, not crush, no matter what Anne says.

Anyway, Jack's is pretty sure Charles thinks he's is mad at him when in fact the problem is that entirely the opposite is true – Jack is lovestruck and giddy in Charles's mere presence. Practically doodling little hearts with his and Charles's names written inside them in pink glitter gel pen like it's still the nineties and he's just discovered the magic of perfectly coiffed boy bands. Which Chaz would tease Jack mercilessly about if he ever found out – tease him for both his teenage taste in music and for his feelings for Charles.

So Jack has continued to cloister himself in his workroom with Christine to work on his next fashion show. An activity that isn't quite as much of a safe harbor after the conversation Anne had with her. Something about managing Jack when he gets in a “mood” - as if Jack has moods! And if he does, as a rich eccentric creative genius type person, he's more than entitled to whatever moods he cares to have. So there!

Charles has been out of the house more often than not over the past few weeks. Partly because Jack's been holed up with Christine, putting together another fashion show. And every time Charles has tried to butt in – to remind Jack to eat something, damn it, or to just take a break – he's been very summarily excused by Jack. And ok fine Jack's in a tizzy, what else is new? But it's not like he really wants to be around for that shit.

And. And. And he's got that itch under his skin that means he needs either a fight or a fuck.

Fucking's off the table, cuz he's Jack's pretend boyfriend and they're supposed to be monogamous. Not that he couldn't find someone reasonably discrete and reasonably removed from the world they're moving in now. The world of rich marks who think a night of slumming it means going to clubs that only have twenty pound cocktails on the menu rather than fifty. So he could find someone who'd never have a chance of encountering one of the rick fucks who'd know him as Jack's boy toy and not as a scourge of the streets.

Hell, he could go find a lower class prostitute who doesn't give half a fuck about anything about him other than that he's got cash to pay for their services. Christine may even have been amenable before Jack had driven her crazy with all his ridiculous demands. But he had and now she flees the house at the end of every day, desperate to be away from his shit. Or maybe she's got something to rush too, rather than away from – Charles doesn't know or really care to. Regardless, that's that plan scuppered.

Of course, there's always other fish in the sea. Or corner boys and girls looking for a John. Christine is just the most available. But there's another reason he doesn't go seek someone else out – another prostitute or even just someone looking for a casual fuck after a long day of being a boring corporate drone.

It's because Charles knows now, after months of collecting information and blackmail on various rich shitstains, just how far some of them are willing to go to see their enemies brought low. Hell, Flint's boyfriend – or husband or whatever their actual relationship is with one another – Thomas Hamilton's own father had him exiled. Left him homeless and destitute and unacknowledged simply because his relationship with Flint might someday be a liability to his business.

All the so-called civilized motherfuckers are so ready to toss aside anyone they think of as lesser and then climb the pile of corpses to even more wealth and power. And Charles refuses to hand any one of those sorry fucks any leverage against him or Jack or any one of their crew. Refuses to see their plans, everything they've worked for, thrown away for a quick fuck.

So Charles keeps himself company. And starts looking for a fight.

He's not so far separated from his days on the streets that he doesn't still remember how to find the underground bare knuckle boxing ring that floats through London's abandoned warehouses and highrises. The place where all the flotsam and jetsam of the criminal underbelly congregate to see a little blood spilt. Or to spill it.

And Charles is not so far separated from his days on the streets that the guy watching the door – some big hulking bearded fucker who dwarfs Charles – doesn't gape and stare but still let him in. In to the derelict parking garage that was meant to serve a set of luxury condominiums that were never built and so the land remained solely as a tax dodge for an absentee landlord to launder his actual business's shady money through.

Charles descends into the dank depths of the service corridors underneath the garage. And he stands face to face with a ghost.

Some fucking idiot, with more money than taste – not that Charles himself is a paragon of that, but some of Jack's obsessive rants about good design sense had to have rubbed off on him – some stupid fuck has installed a huge black door, mirror shiny, at the entrance to the illegal fighting ring. And it reflects his face from endless murky depths.

He looks like a dead man.

He looks like he did before. Before prison and before Jack taking over the crew and before Max and before playing pretend. Before dressing like a rich fuck almost too stupid and self obsessed to notice anything beyond his own reflection in the mirror.

He looks strong. He looks casually cruel – looks like a man whose only goal is to gather strength about himself and to crush out weakness. He looks ready to spill blood and have his own spilled.

Charles pushes open the stupid, ugly, ostentatious door.

His reflection may not look changed, but everyone there, all the hard fuckers, all the street trash, they know what happened to him. They know where he's been and what – who – he's been doing. So he gets a lot of shit on first walking in, shit for being a poof and a dandy. For moving out of the streets and into a house – a big posh house and not a crumbling council estate. But mostly he takes shit for him and Jack being bum buddies.

Cuz news like that's always going to travel right down to the lightless, scummy depths of the lowest places in London. Especially when it's about someone like him. Someone strong, since they see that as a weakness. Someone masculine, since they see that as inherently emasculating.

No one had been surprised about Jack swinging both ways, for instance. He looks like a poof and acts like a poof, no big mystery there. And him so unapologetically larger than life like he is, it's not like he kept it quiet. Although the street's acceptance of him might have had something to do with Anne always lurking at his shoulder, ready to slit an adversary's throat before they even knew it had been cut. And with Charles too backing Jack when he'd been in charge of the crew, making it known that if anyone fucked with him they'd have Charles Vane to deal with.

Charles himself, though. That is a surprise. One that ripples around the ring of fighters like the wave that pulls back before a tsunami is unleashed.

Charles steps into the center of the ring. A dare. A challenge.

And once he's knocked a few dozen heads together, knocks a few dozen teeth in. Once he's standing bloody and bruised but unbowed, with his vanquished enemies at his feet. Well, they all leave it alone after that.

Cuz he's still Charles fucking Vane.

And he feels that more clearly here than in the posh streets of Camden or the West End they now frequent. Feels it in the brutality of the fight for his place here, his life. Feels it in the friendlier sparring that replaces it once he's proved he's worthy to stand among them – sparring no less brutal than his earlier fights, but much more full of camaraderie and less full of a genuine desire to kill one another. And it's nice to feel like his old self, to know he's still him even after everything that's changed.

But that doesn't mean it's not nice to go home at the end of the night, bruised and bloody and with his blood finally cooled and settled under his skin. Nice to emerge from the dank underground into the grey miserable filthy dawn of London streets and know he's got a home to go to.

Jack... Well, he's not waiting up for Charles, because that would imply that he's anxious about where he's gone. And Charles is a grown man, more than capable of going wherever he'd like at whatever hour he'd like.

But he may admit to waking up a bit earlier than usual and, when he passes by Charles's room and finds his bed empty and unslept in, drinking his morning coffee in the sitting room that faces the street so that he can see Charles first thing when he arrives.

Not to be a nag or a mother hen or anything. But simply because he finds he's rather missed having Charles around – barging into his space and interrupting his work and generally making a nuisance of himself. And it's Jack's own fault Charles has started going out more. It's Jack who's been driving him away. But Jack misses him.

And Jack's going to nut up and tell Charles he's missed him. Because he doesn't want to keep going on this way. And his feelings aren't Charles's problem and Jack never should have made them be.

So he's going to fix this, he is...

And then he sees Charles coming up the street. At first, Jack thinks he's just drunk – or fucked up. He's moving a little strangely, like his legs won't quite carry him in a straight line. But as Charles gets closer, Jack can see that he's dead sober – and that he's been beaten to a pulp. His hair is stuck to his face with blood from the cut on his forehead and he's got one hell of a bruise blooming on his cheek and his knuckles are split all to hell.

He looks wrecked. He looks almost as bad as he had after he'd killed Albinus.

Jack runs out to him, where he's standing looking lost and alone out on the pavement.

Charles smiles at Jack as he approaches - Jack who must make a ridiculous figure, rushing outside in nothing but a silk robe and fuzzy slippers - and his teeth are stained red with blood and the smile is really more of a baring of teeth.

“Chaz.” And there Jack stops, because he's really not certain how to go on.

“Jack.” And Charles's voice is steady, even if his footsteps aren't.

Jack places an arm under Charles's and helps him towards the house, towards the hanging open front door and the warmth and safety beyond. “Charles, what the fuck happened?”

Charles slumps against the hallway wall while Jack turns to close the door. “Got in a fight.” And he's grinning up at Jack, looking absolutely fucking unrepentant.

Jack throws his hands up in exasperation. “Really Chaz? You got in a fight? I never would have guessed.”

Charles's grin just gets even more smug.

“Who, pray tell, were you fighting? And why?”

Charles moves further into the house, to the hallway bathroom, where he starts dabbing at his cuts with a delicate hand towel. And yeah, that stain's probably never coming out. But it wasn't his decision to buy white towels, Jack. “Just some street toughs. And as for why...” He shrugs. “Sometimes a man just wants a fight. You know how it is.”

Jack certainly does not know how it is. He's always had the philosophy that fights are to be avoided at all costs – he would never seek out a, a recreational skirmish.

And Charles seems to realize that, because he turns away from Jack and begins dabbing in earnest at the cut on his forehead with a now dampened – and frighteningly bloody - hand towel.

Jack purses his lips but squeezes into the bathroom alongside him. “Here, Charles. You'd better let me do that.”

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #anne bonny/max #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 13

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kaibacorpbros · 3 years

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In with the New

Mokuba was a tolerant person. Even to a fault.

But there were still certain lines, ones he wouldn’t allow to be crossed.

Which was why this kid sitting near his table badmouthing Kaiba Corp for a solid hour had Mokuba as tense as a bowstring in his seat.

It wasn’t his business. Besides, probably a kid of someone that got kicked out when the KC switched to a gaming company. Kid looked like he could have been old enough to remember that many years ago.

Mokuba shouldn’t get involved.

“And Kaiba himself is sketchy. Ya know how he took over? His predecessor died. But all that news was swept under the rug like no one’s business. And he doesn’t give a shit about his employees. Threw my old man out on his ass over nothing—”

And then one of the members in the little posse said what Mokuba assumed was the name of the kid’s dad. Saying how nice the man was. But there was something that sounded familiar…

Mokuba didn’t even realize he had crossed the distance between him and the other guy. He knew who the kid’s father was. Seto had kicked the man out because he was a traitor. A lingering supporter of the Big 5 that was part of the employee purge Seto conducted. What kind of story did the guy give the family!? Not the truth by a long shot.

“Who the hell are you? We got a problem?” the kid barked.

Mokuba pushed the other boy out of his chair, and his fist collided with the other’s cheek. A couple of people around them started screaming. But this boy was much bigger than Mokuba, and after the initial shock, it didn’t take long for him to strike back.

It got messy, and eventually, the bystanders managed to pull the two apart.

Thankfully Mokuba had his hair up and a hat and scarf on, so it didn’t seem he was recognized. But looking down at the flecks of blood on his knuckles, a bit of the other boy’s and his own, the gravity of what he’d done settled in, and he bolted.

_____

“Ya don’t look like the brawling type,” the cashier at the gas station Mokuba had ducked into remarked as she rang up a bag of ice.

“I’m not, I—” but no decent explanation could leave the younger Kaiba’s tongue.

“It’s whatever dude, just try not and make it a habit, especially not around here, I was just about to close.”

Oh great. Oh great, it just kept getting worse.

“S-sorry…”

Mokuba handed the cashier a twenty and told her to keep the change as he pressed the ice to a bruise on his face and turned to leave.

“Hey! Don’t leave like that, all that blood on your knuckles is just gonna make a mess if you don’t patch it up.”

The young lady who’s nametag read “Riley" had taken her own backpack out from under the counter and within a few moments flung a box of band-aids at Mokuba’s face.

“Go outside and start opening those up while I lock the doors. But don’t put them on yet—I got some medicine somewhere in this thing, just gotta take a minute to find it.”

“R-right, on it.”

_____

“And I honestly don’t even know what came over me. I don’t usually get angry, nor do I even have much of a reason to be defending him after everything. Hell, I felt conflicted enough by shipping him a gift for New Years this morning.”

Was it wrong to be venting so much to a stranger he just met over hot cocoa in a twenty-four-hour diner? Probably. This lady wasn’t a therapist—but honestly with how she listened and discussed as the younger Kaiba babbled could have fooled him. But then again, maybe it was largely due to the fact that he hadn’t stopped for very long enough to really get a read on what opinion Riley had on everything he was info-dumping.

“Really? What’d you send him?”

“Just an outfit I designed, more lowkey than his usual stuff because I heard he’s been leaning that way anyway.”

Riley dropped another handful of marshmallows in her mug.

“That’s not exactly a low-effort gift, Mokuba.”

“O-Oh! I didn’t sew it all myself or anything—I can do a bit, but I had some friends in the theatre crew I’ve been working with help me out. Ha, pretty simple compared to what they’re used to.”

“What’s on their usual to-do list? Costume with exploding fake head?” Riley asks with a smirk.

“Well….”

A marshmallow gets tossed at Mokuba.

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“It was worth a shot,” Mokuba says with a cheeky grin. “But we did an exploding dummy once. Or…several.”

Light laughter lays between the two before Riley carefully considers her next words. She didn’t want to kill Mokuba’s mood more than it already was unless he wanted to truly hear what she had to say.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” The tink of a spoon hitting the edges of the cup as she stirs seems to be the only sound in the building.

After a moment of deliberation, Mokuba nods.

“I think…you’re so used to caring for your brother that you can’t imagine not doing so. But going how it sounds, it seems this isn’t a new thing. And I don’t think people like that change. No usually anyway.”

The expression Mokuba now had on his face made her want to backpedal. It felt like kicking a puppy.

“Of course not saying it’s a sealed deal or anything just—you know.”

Mokuba took to picking at the Band-Aids on his digits.

“No, I know—get what you’re saying. I…I’ll keep that in mind.” He clears his throat with a cough.

“I’d like to change the subject though. You uh, been working here long?”

“Ha! That old place? Nah, just a placeholder.”

Like every job was.

“I’m going east after this, everything’s too crowded here. And the prices are insane, I don’t even want to know how you’re getting screwed over by the conversion rate.”

Oh, Mokuba had an idea. And he was sure Seto was seeing that loss.

“Very. You traveling too, huh?”

Maybe they didn’t have to say goodbye so soon.

_____

Front or back? Seto wondered as he fiddled with his scarf hanging down his front. He’d grown used to wrapping it loosely around his neck and fall over his back so the eyes on it stared out behind him. But the design sketch for the outfit he’d gotten from Mokuba had it just hooked over the back of the neck down the front of the coat.

Turns out, he wouldn’t have time to debate over it anymore as the door to the apartment he was standing outside opened.

“How many white coats do you have?” Diva asked.

“I’ve…not really stopped to count.”

Maybe he should do that sometime. But what could he say? Blue white and black were his colors.

He gave a half turn. “Mokuba designed it.”

“How do you know? I thought—”

“He’s the only one who sends me clothes. And he has a style I can recognize. But no, there was no letter or anything like that.”

Diva held out a hand and after Seto nodded, straightened the scarf, so both sides were a bit more even.

“He has one I approve of,” the ex-Plana said with a small smile as the two-headed out together for the night. _____

// this is a hella late new years/holiday thing thanks to my lil hiatus rippp. Anywho, hope everyone had a nice holiday/winter.

The outfit that Mokuba designed and made was the one Kenjiro-san had for the Duel Opera! I’m sure you’ve seen fanart of Kaiba in them-- it’s all the same sans he’s got the previous blue chaos max themed scarf instead.

Also introduced and OC who may also be a bit of an NPC over on this blog for interactions with Mokuba. But mostly Riley will be over at @pledgedsouls

#(do not reblog)#blazing a trail [riley]#make the impossible possible | seto 💜 diva | indioragod #legacy [drabbles]#KC files [Lore]

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haloud · 5 years

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all grown up

for michael guerin week day 1 -- welcome to the party ao3

“It’s my year to pick what we do for our birthday,” Isobel says one afternoon.

Michael looks down at her. He’s standing on Max’s coffee table in order to get enough height to fiddle with the ceiling fan, which Max claims has started randomly changing speeds. He could easily use his powers for this, but it’s also vastly more fun to see Max’s face scrunch up when he walks into the room and sees Michael standing on his furniture.

Isobel flicks to the next page of her magazine, looking uninterested, but Michael knows she’s waiting for his response. Just a few inches from where he’s standing, her fuzzy-socked feet jiggle anxiously.

They haven’t celebrated a birthday in a while. Not together, at least. For lots of those years, Max and Michael could barely be in the same room with each other, let alone find anything to celebrate. And that’s probably a big part of the reason why Isobel’s own birthday became a subject of gossip as the one occasion she wouldn’t throw a party for.

Her math is right, though. This would be her year, if that was still a thing they did.

“Got any ideas yet?” Is all Michael says.

“I’m working on it. How do you feel about pedicures?”

“I live to be pampered.”

“Good to know.”

When Max comes home thirty minutes later, Isobel doesn’t bring it up again, just tosses her magazine aside and goes to help him unload groceries. Michael goes back to his tinkering, a smile on his face.

Isobel doesn’t live in the house she shared with Noah anymore. It’s empty at the moment—someday, she’s been saying, she’ll make Michael knock all the walls down and make it an open-concept office for her expanding business. They’ve already made a bonfire of the furniture—it kept them warm while they waited for Max to wake back up again.

It’s the best gift Michael can think of for her, and besides, their birthdays have almost never been about things. Still, just in case, he flexes his eBay skills and makes his way to the party with a two foot tall plushie of Littlefoot buckled into the seat beside him.

They do the party at Max’s house this year. As Michael pulls up to the driveway, it hits him in an unexpected way. This is the first time they celebrate out in the open. The first time there’s no one to hide the truth of Michael from, the first time they’re having an afterparty with other people, people who love them. Isobel has stayed meticulously silent for two months about her plans, but the afterparty she set up right away. She wouldn’t deny Max a chance to get sappy with Liz on his birthday, nor Michael a chance to get his birthday spankings. Given, however, that she picked the Wild Pony as the location, Michael can sense the truth underneath the teasing.

Michael climbs out of his truck and waves at his sister, waiting for him on the porch with her arms crossed. She stalks across the yard, and Michael frowns at the pinched look on her face, worry bubbling up from his stomach.

“Happy birthday?” He says, his voice rising like it’s a question, spreading his arms out either for a hug or to make himself a bigger target if she wants to hit him instead.

“Okay, yeah, happy birthday,” she says, then her jaw clenches, then she throws herself into his arms.

Michael squeezes her tightly, and she squeezes back, tension in every line of her. “You’re scaring me, Iz,” he murmurs into the side of her head.

“Okay!” She pulls back until he’s holding her at arm’s length. “Just first thing’s first, you are absolutely not allowed to laugh, because if you do I will—”

Her eyes flick over Michael’s shoulder, making eye contact with Littlefoot still strapped into the bench. A strangled noise, part shriek, part gasp, part delighted squeal leaps out of her throat, and all at once she shoves Michael aside and throws her upper body through the open window to retrieve it.

She buries her face in the short, soft fuzz for a long moment, and Michael’s face bursts into a smile. What he can see of her face is red and splotchy; her ponytail is coming undone; her outfit is perfect as usual. She’s Isobel, and god, it’s their fucking birthday.

Suddenly, Isobel jerks her head up again, shooting Michael with a squinting glare. “Did you cheat?”

Michael shakes his head vigorously, holding his hands up in surrender. “Cheat at what? Buying the perfect birthday present?”

“No, the theme of my party.” Her eyes drop, and she picks at one of the dinosaur’s smooth spots. “Seriously, Michael. Don’t laugh.”

“Iz, I’m not gonna laugh. I promise.”

After a second, she nods sharply, turns on her heel, and stalks back towards the door, Littlefoot tucked under her arm.

The second Michael walks through the door, he’s assaulted by a wave of—bubbles? The cheap, dollar store kind.

“Happy birthday, brother,” Max says, and blows another stream in his face.

The party? It’s perfect. It’s perfect in a way that has Michael in the bathroom three times that day to grip the sink and try not to bawl like a baby. It’s perfect in a way that has Max and Isobel red-eyed and sniffly too, on and off. Isobel is a genius, in a way that breaks all their hearts.

What do they do? They party. They eat too-sweet store-bought cake and drink lemonade they made themselves (out of powder from a jar, of course—what do you take them for?). They play Dance Dance Revolution on an old PS2 Isobel found in her childhood bedroom, basically untouched. They have a blindfolded telekinetic Nerf war across half the desert—which Michael wins, thank you very much, having a much more evolved grasp of telekinetic awareness than his two siblings, who are essentially fragile baby deer in the face of his mastery (says Michael, shortly before getting a dart to the mouth).

They have every birthday party they never had from 1 to 27, every single one in a day.

And after, as the sun starts setting late into the summer night, the three of them shove themselves into Michael’s truck, because it’s the car they can take with all three of them in the front seat. Isobel still has blue frosting on her cheek; Max leans his head on the window like he’s just being his pensive self and like Michael can’t see him tearing up in the reflection.

They’ll have a few beers with the people they love, and then the day will be over. Michael almost wants to take a page out of his brother’s book, but he has to keep his eyes on the road.

When they walk into the Pony, though, it’s to an explosion of confetti and a massive birthday banner—from some old birthday of Maria’s, most likely, because the year number has been cut out and the banner stitched back together—strung across the ceiling.

Max really is crying now, as Liz tugs his hands away from his face and laughs, leading him to the dance floor. Michael stands rooted to his spot, frozen by this, this earth-shakingly simple gesture, he just can’t, can’t get his brain to move his muscles again. They’ve got people here. They’ve got—Kyle and Jenna strung the banner up, probably, while Alex moved tables and chairs out of the way and made glib comments about how it would be an easier job for someone tall, like Max. Maria would have stayed behind the bar, mixing punch; Liz probably brought in food from the Crashdown, the best comfort food anywhere in Roswell. Michael can see it all play out so clearly, but it doesn’t make it any more real.

He wishes time travel was a power they had, just so that kid he used to be could know, could know even just a flicker, that this was gonna be his one day.

“It’s your birthday, you can cry if you want to, Guerin,” a teasing voice says at Michael’s shoulder, and then Alex is there, taking his hand.

And Michael lets him, follows him into the crowd, into the circle of his family.

#mgweek19 #guerinweek19 #michael guerin #isobel evans #max evans #siblings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#fluff!!!!!!!!!

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revcntulet · 4 years

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❝ The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing. ❞ SCORPIUS MALFOY looks a lot like that muggle, FROY GUTIERREZ, right? Only 20 years old, that SLYTHERIN alumnus works as a HEALING APPRENTICE and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a PUREBLOOD.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (Spiderman: Homecoming), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins)

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Malfoy & Astoria Malfoy (née Greengrass) Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: A crested toad named Jarvis. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovation, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventiveness, logical, practical skill and self assertion; lack of attachment to people and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissiveness, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetiousness, rigidity, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubbornness. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic

HOGWARTS HOUSE BREAKDOWN

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

9. The Expositor will have to destroy the one who they love. There is no other way. It cannot be avoided. Their fate – possibly even the entire world’s fate – depends on it.

39. You are in the Order, and as a spell inventor, you played a key role in helping the Knights mutate the Patronus Charm to create daemons. Because of this, you have a daemon of your own, and you have been experimenting with the limitations of the magic, trying to figure out if there are any ways to improve them.

Code Name Revontulet, which literally translates to “fox fire.” Legend says that an arctic fox dashed across the tundra swiping snow up into the sky, while others claim his bushy tail caused sparks when brushing the peaks of tall mountains to create the Aurora Borealis.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, honestly, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t due to him being an excellent student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest.

Scorpius was in his seventh and final year when the Knights were first created and he spent a lot of his time patching people up and teaching simple healing here and there, wherever he could. It was a natural transition to become part of The Order once he graduated, he still kept in contact with members of the Knights but while he had no way to access the grounds at all it seemed ridiculous that he be privy to everything, especially as sharing such information could have been intercepted by the opposing side. He was absolutely horrified by Harry’s resurrection and his stomach rolls every time he even thinks about it.

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic meant that he was an ideal candidate, in his head, to have the singular daemon amongst the Order and to test all of their hard work. Then the prophecy was slowly unravelled, silver spool of damning words in a pile at his feet.

Is in a strange place in that he can’t simply stop loving people he’s always loved whilst working simultaneously to strangle any potential for more people to be added to the list as frantically as he can. Tends to just try and put the prophecy out of his mind otherwise he stares at Cleo for too long and his hands start to shake.

Very nearly lost his apprenticeship due to his intensity over developing and refining the magic of the patronus charm. It was an all-consuming obsession, he went so far into the zone that he was a bit of a liability for a while there. He would turn up at any hour to other Order members for their opinions on an obscure theory, an element of the magic, the importance of ritual and their thoughts on his experiments with dementors. Alot of people were like you’re a bit young to be doing this aren’t you love? And he was like I’m not going to tell you to fuck off, just explain that I will not let this go and if you exclude me I will continue working on it alone.

[ DEATH TW ] Although this can be said for anyone possessing a daemon, he is protective of Cleo to the point of neurosis, the magic was experimental at the time of her manifestation and he felt every single layer of his soul flayed away and the creation of atoms from a matter that he still doesn’t quite understand. Only that it came from him. They have managed to limit the bitter, burnt iron taste that lingered at the back of his sinuses for two weeks, the numbness of his fingers and toes and the burst blood vessels in his eyes on other subjects. Oh and the part where he stopped breathing for nearly an entire minute. By the time he performed it successfully he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to ever experience it, the spell basically consumed his life for several years and when the research was finally over he was stood there blinking owlishly with no real concept of where the last couple of years had gone.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm. Bruises like a peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled.

Is a very skilled pianist.

Has a fabric sling that he wears across his torso that Cleo is often curled up in. Looks like a single dad at Order meetings, toad on his shoulder.

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

#ok can we not talk about the series of failed graphics tryna look like dragon age tarot cards? cool sweet #rev intros #blood tw #death tw

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 5 years

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Toy Story 4

I have given almost no thought to the fourth entry in the Toy Story franchise. I just felt like we were really DONE after Toy Story 3, you know? It was cathartic, it was meaningful, it made me bawl like a baby. I’d said goodbye and I was doing great. And then suddenly, Woody (Tom Hanks) and Buzz (Tim Allen) and the gang are back for round 4 and I’m just supposed to what, welcome them back with open arms? And now there’s a SPORK involved? I don’t know, fam. I was skeptical. But Pixar usually knows what they’re doing, so I sat down opening weekend ready to be transported back to the magic of childhood all over again. Could this entry in the franchise possibly live up to the greatness of all 3 of its predecessors? Well...

Gosh, it’s nice sometimes to be proven wrong. This movie is so delightful my face hurt from smiling afterwards. I think I laughed more at this than any other comedy this year. And its heart is still firmly in the right place, helping kids and grown-ups alike think about what it means to love and be loved, and what we’re willing to give up for a chance at happiness. Essentially, Woody’s new kid, Bonnie (Madeline McGraw) isn’t that interested in playing with him anymore. Instead, she’s made herself a new favorite toy - Forky (Tony Hale), a literal collection of trash barely being held together by silly putty and glue. Even though Woody isn’t Bonnie’s favorite toy, he knows how important it is for her to have Forky, and he will stop at nothing to keep Forky safe when Bonnie’s parents decide to take her (and all her toys) on a road trip. As you can imagine, some toys get lost, some toys get found, and there’s a lot of action-packed close calls along the way.

Some thoughts:

There is no Pixar short before this one, just FYI.

One thing I love about the Toy Story films is the thematic richness that is always so clear and well-executed. From the very first scene, it’s set up that this is going to be Woody’s movie, and it’s going to be about him choosing between two different types of love - the love of a companion or the love of duty in his role as a Kid’s Toy. All of the Toy Story movies are essentially Woody movies, but this one feels even more so than the rest, and it’s a lovely meditation on aging, change, and parenthood from the perspective of a character that many of us have grown up with for the last 24 years.

Some of the animation is so beautiful I want to cry. Woody lying in the rain. The LIGHT in the antique shop. Have you ever seen light look so ethereal and gorgeous in animation?

The four abandoned toys in Bonnie’s closet are voiced by the four greatest living comedians of our grandparents’ generation - Melephant Brooks (Mel Brooks), Chairol Burnett (Carol Burnett), Carl Reinerocerous (Carl Reiner), and Bitey White (Betty White). It’s a quick scene but man, what a joy for a comedy nerd like me.

Blink-and-you’ll-miss-them lesbians dropping off their son at Bonnie’s kindergarten class!

Throughout all the marketing, I have been so confused about Forky and why on earth he’s involved in this movie. However, within 2 minutes, I was completely sold. Tony Hale’s performance is perhaps the funniest performance I’ve seen in any media this year. Every single line delivery is gold, and he brings a real sweet earnestness to Forky’s identity crises and his confusion at a big world he doesn’t understand. And those goddamn googly eyes are the funniest fucking thing - it’s so dumb, but when a gag works, it works.

So I saw Child’s Play this weekend as well, and let me tell you - Benson, the ventriloquist dummy in the antique shop, is 10 million times scarier than Chucky will ever be. That motherfucker is going to haunt my dreams.

Now let’s talk about some other members of the ensemble. Is it just me, or does it seem like Buzz is being extra stupid here? I just don’t remember him being this stupid. A little obtuse, sure, but...this feels 10th season of a CBS sitcom bad. The one plot line I really hated was his dumb “inner voice” running gag. It felt like a lame gimmick in comparison to the really interesting nuanced interactions going on in every other plot thread of the film.

I love the idea of Bo Peep (Annie Potts) as a Mad Max road warrior feminist rebel.

Another thing I appreciate about the Toy Story movies - all of their villains are portrayed sympathetically, and usually due to a lack of love in their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I love a great campy evil just for the sake of being evil villain as much as the next girl, but there’s something to be said for a series of movies that show antagonists as people who are hurting, who have a need that was never filled, and are willing to learn and grow when they are confronted about it. I think that’s a valuable thing for kids and adults alike to see.

I particularly liked the parallel and inversion of Gabby (Christina Hendricks) and Woody here, how they’re both so blindly devoted to the idea of loving a kid that they can’t see anything outside of that, including how their actions might be hurting other people. It’s a tight script overall, and particularly in their stories it digs deep into a lot of interesting emotional material.

Fun easter egg: in the old toy disco that Bo Peep takes Woody to inside the antique shop, the first toy they interact with is the original tin toy from one of the first Pixar shorts!

I know he’s having a very it moment right now, which he deserves every single second of because he’s, by all accounts, a truly wonderful human being, but I would die for Keanu Reeves’ Duke Caboom, and I don’t care who knows it.

For people who are interested to know - there is a cat who experiences some toy-chasing antics, but no harm comes to her.

Did I Cry? Yeah, yeah I did. Nowhere near the waterworks of Toy Story 3, but when Gabby finds her kid, and at that last line, yeah, there was more than a light misting.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but this really is as good as all the other Toy Story movies. You’d be hard-pressed to name a franchise this consistent in quality, and I highly, highly encourage kids and grown-ups alike to travel to infinity and beyond with this crew one more time.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#119in2019 #toy story 4 #toy story 4 review #buzz lightyear #woody #tom hanks #tim allen #tony hale #bo peep #annie potts #forky #keanu reeves #duke caboom #christina hendricks #disney pixar #pixar #movie reviews #film reviews

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fairymascot · 6 years

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the unfathomable rachel amber

how is it possible for a teenage girl to be loved and adored by absolutely everybody?

for fans exploring rachel's character in light of season 1, and quite possibly for deck9 as well, this seemed to be one of the most pressing questions. what about rachel amber was so powerful, so magnetic, so irresistible to everyone around her? what kind of person does it take to leave the same impact on her surroundings that she did?

i've seen a lot of possible answers-- depictions of her as a time traveler herself; depictions of her as ethereal, some sort of goddess, like she was never quite human to begin with. depictions of her as a girl who poured all of herself into meeting other people's expectations, switching from one mask to another so rapidly she almost forgets her true self, and ultimately, deck9's depiction -- as the daughter of the district attorney, who's spent so much of her life acting on and off stage that it's become second nature.

all those takes are creative and engaging, and serve as foundation for compelling characters. but there's one line of thought that i haven't seen expressed before, and that's:

who says it has to be that complicated?

(cut for length.)

many interpretations, including the one that ended up being canon, depicted rachel as an onion. a matryoshka doll. like so much of her is carefully constructed and coordinated, and you have to peel away through layers of pretense and manipulation to get to the real person underneath. but i can't help but think that for someone like rachel, being as well-liked as she is would not have been particularly hard.

rachel was beautiful. max calls her photos 'mesmerizing'. and rachel knew it; she capitalized on that, focused all her efforts on paving a path to becoming a model. regardless of her personality, people would be naturally drawn to her, because the fact of the matter is that beautiful people draw attention and adoration.

her second strongest point is that she didn't care for cliques. within the blackwell bubble, neatly divided between the vortex club elite and the losers not cool enough to get in, that essentially made her a goddess. being of high social standing while refusing to restrict yourself to it is, in that highschool age where one’s image is everything, a near-unthinkable assertion of confidence.

outside of blackwell? that mattered little. when you ask the truckers in the two whales about her, they say things like 'oh, just another teen girl with a pipe dream', 'oh, i remember her-- asked me if i could give her a ride up to cali, once'. outside of blackwell, she was nobody. just another pretty face with aspirations far too big to ever fulfil. but because you play as max, a teenager herself, who is completely immersed in the blackwell bubble, rachel's influence surrounds you almost everywhere you go. it's easy to forget what that girl would've really looked like to any outsiders looking in.

on top of that: the two characters who knew rachel most intimately, who tell you about her in most detail, are chloe and frank. chloe's perception heavily colors max's (and the player's) own, because she is the single most significant character in the story, and the one who means the most to max. so if chloe's dedicated her life to finding rachel, whom she describes with nothing short of reverence, then of course you feel some sense of immense awe towards rachel as well.

then there's frank, who's remarkable in that he's the only one outside the blackwell bubble -- and a grown adult, at that -- who speaks of rachel in such depth. and he shows that exact same reverence towards her as chloe. frank's relative detachment from the rest of the cast is what lends all the more power to this view, and combining his and chloe's descriptions of her, it starts to feel like objective reality. rachel was an angel, a lioness, the most important girl in the whole world.

but let's think about this for a second. chloe and frank's relationships to rachel come from a very similar place. when she enters their lives, they're both lone wolves, jaded, isolated, miserable. and rachel swoops in with her endless beauty, providing them with warmth and kindness when nobody else would... of course she'd become the single shining beacon in their lives. of course they'd idealize her to hell and back. who else in their closed-off little world could even compare?

when you look at her relationship with frank, it's plain to see it wasn't some magical fairytale romance: the letters we find teach us they fought, seemingly often, going as far as to lash out against each other violently. Both Chloe and Nathan insist Rachel was only in it for his stash to begin with -- and though both clearly aren't free from bias, it's easy to imagine that as the common impression onlookers would get from their relationship. and maybe it was the truth; we never got the chance to ask rachel, after all. but in the end, it didn't matter, because she was willing to show frank affection when nobody but his dog would, and that was all it took to make her his savior.

when you break it down like this, there's no real reason to think rachel amber had some sort of jedi mind powers, or a master's degree in human psychology. she needed exactly three things to rise to where she did: beauty, confidence, and kindness.

and in the end, those were the things she suffered for the most.

though deck9 didn't take that route, i think that from looking at rachel's characterization in season 1 alone, it's easy to read her as someone with a compulsive need to be liked. she would literally go around handing out photos of herself to anyone who'd take them -- which you can say is ambitious, a way of getting herself out there, but isn't there also a sense of desperation to it? why would she give her photo to samuel, the school janitor? surely she didn't expect him to be able to kickstart her modeling career?

then there's the unused lines in max's nightmare in episode five, meant to be spoken by rachel. one of them is: 'now i'll never be a star, never be famous. no one will ever see my face again'. rachel hinged SO heavily on her appearance. her plan of getting ahead in life had nothing to do with her perfect 4.0 gpa; it had nothing to do with acting, which deck9 supposedly imposed on her as a means of giving her more depth, because who'd care about some vapid girl who wants to be a model? but that's the duality of rachel amber in season one, the thing that makes her so intriguing: she's a goddess, a force of nature, and yet in so many ways she's just another vain teen girl.

it doesn't take a lot of effort to read the effects of female socialization into rachel's character. girls are taught, from a young age, that their worth is rooted in two main things: their appearance, and their emotional endurance. girls are taught to be kind, to be understanding, to extend endless compassion and forgiveness towards everyone, but most specifically men. it starts as early as kindergarten, where girls bullied by boys are told not to mind it, because 'it just means that he likes you'. and those two traits are absolutely predominant in rachel amber's characterization-- her appearance is, in her eyes, her key to her future. she dreams of having fans. she needs to be admired; she needs to be liked.

and so, she feels compelled to extend sympathy and friendliness to everyone she meets because she needs everyone to like her. in most of her relationships, outside of frank and his drugs, there really doesn’t seem to be any higher motive than that. but because she's hardwired that way, she also instinctively reads too deeply into people, and is far too willing to give them the benefit of a doubt. in her journey to earn sympathy from others, she's been saddled with an overly-empathetic nature.

what her relationships with nathan, frank and jefferson all have in common is that she made the choice to see beyond their dark exterior and look for some hidden depth beneath it; convincing herself nathan was a troubled youth in need of a friend, and that frank was a decent guy whose rocky life led him down an unfortunate path. that jefferson was a tortured soul, some mystery in need of unravelling, who just needs someone to reach into his very core and open him up.

by blindly and indistinctly overextending her sympathy to everyone around her, rachel amber got tangled up with all the wrong people, and got pulled down a horrible, horrible path that she never deserved. the rachel depicted in before the storm-- some kind of all-knowing mind-reader, simply cannot be that same girl. there's nothing about the rachel amber in life is strange to indicate that kind of bottomless profoundness. she was, in many ways, naive. she was shallow, vain, fickle and quick-tempered. she was warm, loving, and kind to a fault.

at the end of the day, when you step back from that little bubble in a dead-end town's highschool she had made her domain, she was a nobody. no powers, no meticulous acting, no boundless wisdom beyond her years.

she really was just another girl.

#life is strange #meta #before the storm #text #my rambles

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wantisamlindyla · 6 years

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Your Ghost - Chapter 1

New York, 1999.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

A/N: Hi all. I’ve been sitting on this for a while I finally decided to post the first chapter. I have a rough outline but I don’t know how many chapters there are going to be, maybe 6? This is AU, Mileven, takes place 15 years after Eleven disappeared. Most of season 2 still happened, but there was no Mike/Eleven Reunion at the end of episode 8. Will eventually post on Ao3, but I dunno when I’m gonna get my invite to set up an account. Enjoy!

28 October 1999

“Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming here today. There will be a book signing of this amazing book after this session. Now, the reason for why we are all here today, and why some of you have been lining up outside the venue all night, is currently backstage, waiting patiently for me to stop nerding out and pull myself together to introduce him!

After publishing his first novel and topping the New York bestseller’s list at only the age of 23, he is here tonight to talk about his newest novel, titled the Ides of Winter, and the third book in the world famous Montauk series. Everybody, please join me in welcoming to the stage, Michael Wheeler!”

***

It was one month and 17 days into the book tour. Mike had one more stop in New York before he could call it a day and go home.

He was so goddamned tired, he still had several book signings, an interview with the New Yorker (with that pretentious prig, Howell), a TV appearance on the Today Show, and, a few radio interviews, before he can escape back to the Lake house in Lovell, Maine which he now called home.

It’s not all bad news though. New York means seeing Will again for the first time since Christmas.

Not that Mike has completely lost all touch with his old friends, quite on the contrary.

After graduating from a fine arts course at his brother’s alma mater, NYU, Will had decided to stay in the city. He’d eventually landed an unpaid internship at a small start up animation studio. Now Will split his time travelling back and forth from California to New York as the head character designer on a number of superhero animated cartoons that Mike watched religiously on Saturday mornings.

It wasn’t hard to stay in touch with Will, it was just that this last year had been manic. Mike had barely fit in time for sleep what with working frantically to get his novel finished, having to attend stressful and tense meetings with his editor, forcing himself to return his lawyers’ phone calls about a copyright infringement litigation his publishers had commenced on his behalf, and having to deal with ideas about for the short story anthology he had been working on springing up at the most inconvenient times.

He and Will still managed to talk every other day though, either by telephone or AIM.

Ever since Nancy and Jonathan officially became a couple around Christmas of ‘84, Jonathan and Will became regular dinner guests at the Wheeler residence. He and Will had become almost inseparable, more than anybody in the party.

During his parents’ divorce, which took place during Mike’s sophomore year of high school, with Nancy and Jonathan away at college, Mike spent more and more time at the Byers’ residence, trying to escape the tensions at home, right up until he left for college in ‘89.

At college, Mike made new friends, attended dumb keg parties, dated girls, but he never lost touch with Dustin, Will, Lucas, or Max.

You didn’t help save the end of the world with your friends, twice, and then drift away from them over trivial things like distance and attending different colleges.

In fact, Mike had just met up with Dustin only a few months ago. Dustin had been in Maine for some reason connected with his annoyingly mysterious job.

After Dustin had graduated from MIT he had immediately been recruited by a secretive tech company in California. Dustin couldn’t talk about where he worked or what he did at his job. Whenever people asked him where he worked he’d tell them Cyberdyne Systems with a straight face.

He and Dustin had attended the Phantom Menace premiere together with Dustin’s then-girlfriend, Cindy. The boys had left the movie theatre deflated and heartsore while Cindy had tried valiantly to console them by saying all the wrong things.

Dustin called Mike a few weeks later to inform him that he and Cindy were no longer going out.

“I had to dump her Mike, she said she thought Jar Jar Binks was cute. Also she refused to share her food with me when we went out.”

“So?”

“So? So? It’s weird. We go out for Italian and I end up having to eat an entire Pepperoni pizza on my own, which I don’t really mind, but then her ravioli looks good too, but she won’t let me have any because she likes us to have our own meals. And don’t even get me started on that time I took her to Wang’s Treasure Palace.”

Besides those occasional and surprising visits during the year there was always Christmas and New Years at Lucas and Max’s place to look forward to.

Of all of them only Lucas and Max had opted to return to Hawkins. Lucas quit his mechanical engineering job and got a position as an assistant professor, teaching at the community college only after a few years in Chicago. Max got a job as a mechanic at a garage. They bought a house, got married, and got busy starting a family.

Mike smiled at the memory of last year’s Christmas.

He’d practically lived at Lucas and Max’s house the whole time he was there since the picture perfect Wheeler family Christmases that his mom had worked so hard to create during his childhood was now only a distant memory.

Nancy preferred to spend her Christmases in New York with Jonathan and Mrs Byers. The Wheeler home had been sold a few years ago when Holly had left to go to college. Holly preferred to spend her holidays in Chicago with her boyfriend’s family.

His mom was away on another cruise, and, his dad was busy with wife number two.

So, Mike spent his Christmas and News Years at the Sinclairs. He’d taught their three-year-old son, Robbie, how to build a snowman. He conducted a twelve-hour D & D Campaign, pelted Dustin with snowballs, watched a pregnant Max eat all the ice-cream and listened to her complain about how gassy pregnancy made her, watched a star wars marathon and gorged on pizza on Christmas day (just because Max was the only girl in the party did not mean that she would be cooking and cleaning for four man-child wastoids who liked to mooch off her and Lucas).

Mike considered a detour to Hawkins for a visit after New York so he could meet the newest addition to the Sinclair family, baby Grace, who was about to turn 6 months old. He decided to bring it up with Will tonight at dinner.

Mike pulled himself back to the present and to the interviewer who was introducing him to her broadcast audience.

“You’re listening to Terry Gross on Fresh Air. Joining us today is Michael Wheeler, author of the best selling book series, Montauk. The series is set in the 60s, in the small town of Montauk in upstate New York, the town is haunted by the misdeeds of its occupants.

The main protagonist is Millie, a brave young girl, with a few secrets of her own.

When Millie’s best friend, Noah, goes missing in mysterious and sinister circumstances, she sets out on a journey into the woods near the town to find him. The first two books in the series have already sold over 80 million copies worldwide and a movie adaptation of the first novel is currently in the works. The third book in the series, Ides of Winter, was released recently.

Michael was only 23 when the first novel in the series was published. He was awarded the Hugo Award for best new author in ‘95 and he has been named one of Time’s most influential people of the year. Michael thank you so much for joining us today.”

“Of course, thank you for having me.”

Terry was one of the best interviewers Mike had the pleasure of meeting. Her soft spoken and inquisitive questions put him immediately at ease, so much so that so he almost forgot he was being interviewed on radio.

He didn’t forget to lie though.

When Terry asked him about where he’d drawn inspiration from for his twelve-year-old girl protagonist, he told her Millie was a blend of himself and the two sisters whom he’d grown up with.

When Terry asked him what drew him to the supernatural and horror themes prevalent in his novels, he only talked about the books and authors he’d read growing up.

“Michael, my favourite chapter of your second novel is the Cave of Horrors. I’m sure you get that a lot. I just wanted to ask you about that chapter, because it’s pivotal, its when Millie comes to believe that she may have truly lost her friend forever, and you write so well about grief, and loss, and the trauma associated with that at such a young age. I guess what I wonder is, was this kind of loss something you had experience with?”

Mike pauses for a long moment.

He doesn’t know what it was, perhaps it’s the kindness in Terry’s voice.

Maybe it was the year he’d just had, it’d been especially difficult.

Maybe it was the tour.

Maybe it was the thought of that big empty lake house waiting for him at the end of the tour.

Maybe he’s just so tired of the lies and the bullshit. He didn’t really even understand why he still did it; it’s as natural as breathing, but its been almost 15 years. All the men who could punish him or his friends for saying the wrong thing are long gone.

He doesn’t know why or what it is, but all of a sudden his chest feels as if it’s been cracked wide open and its like everyone can see the wound inside him, vulnerable and raw as the day it happened. He wants to tell the world about her, he wants to scream it from the top of the Empire State Building.

He’s twelve years old again, he can smell the tang of blood and the smoke of ashes that had never touched fire. He can hear the violent and desperate screams of a dying creature ringing in his ears and in between darkness and the flickering fluorescent lights, he sees her eyes, tired, resigned, and filled with pain.

Goodbye Mike.

He wanted her to live again, even if she could only come back to him through the pages of a book.

So he’d saved her the only way he knew how. She came back to life by people reading his book, by growing to love and adore Millie, the brave and wonderful girl that would face monsters and death in order to save her friends.

“I….I lost a friend when I was a kid Terry. I don’t really speak about it often. But the way that it happened….it was violent and sudden. I don’t think I was able to come to grips with it for many years. It’s hard to admit sometimes, I think I lie to myself about it, but so much of her is in my writing.”

Terry nodded thoughtfully even though though the gesture won’t be captured by the microphone.

“Did writing help you with dealing with that loss?”

Mike answered honestly, “I don’t know. Some days I think it’s made it worse, because she’s with me, everyday. I live and breathe the loss of her in work. But its just become inseparable from me, the pain. I think it’s just like an arm, or a leg. You heal, but you’re not ever the same. And you never really forget what you lost.”

#mike/eleven #mileven #fanfic #stranger things #au mileven #chapter 1 #authormike

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