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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Fools

Author: @izurusfattiddies/fxckthisfxckthat

For: @hadrian-pendragons

Pairings/Characters: Komaeda/Hinata, Nagito Komaeda, Hajime Hinata, and a splash of Izuru Kamukura and a few mentions

Rating/Warnings: Self Doubt, Hurt and Comfort

Prompt: Hurt/comfort Hinata and Kamakura and trying to figure out Komaeda.

Author’s notes: This is actually my first ever Danganronpa fic! If the characters seem a bit off I apologize. I had a lot of fun writing this however and I hope you like reading it!

Komaeda was certainly a man of… puzzling standing. While a seemingly normal person, the moment he opened his mouth made anyone jerk to a halt. He was needlessly self deprecating, and his mindset was far too complicated for most people to decipher. Even Kamukura had difficulty understanding him, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Then Komaeda would likely become boring. But Hinata wanted that. So they’d work together to figure him out. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

“I’m surprised you wanted to spend time with me.” Komaeda spoke as Hinata held out a trip ticket for him. Hinata sighs. “Of course I want to. You are one of my classmates.”

“I’m not sure I’m worth wasting the-”

“Where do you want to go?”

Komaeda paused then. Hinata could see the gears turning in his head, as if trying to figure out where Hinata wanted to go. A hand under his chin as he debated their options. “I suppose we could go to the beach…” And then they went off, changing into their bathing suits in their rooms. Though for a while, Hinata just stared into the mirror.

You know this won’t help, right?

“I just want to know him better, that’s all.”

You get attached too easily. It would be easier if I did this.

“You’re too cold. He’ll notice. He’s not an idiot.”

The little trip went well, though for the most part Komaeda stayed out of the water. They made a sand castle together, but a coconut fell on top of it as soon as they finished to Komaeda’s displeasure. He apologized for his luck ruining the event with the sweetest smile that almost made Hinata’s heart jump out his throat. Why was that smile so appealing? Hinata couldn’t tell you why but he just returned one of his own and reassured the other that it was fine.

But that smile kept him up that night. He couldn't wrap his head around why he felt the way he did. Hinata seemed to just be missing a piece of the puzzle. Izuru had other ideas however.

You l-

"No, I don't. I'm just curious about him."

...If you insist.

"I do insist."

Izuru seemed to have had their Hinata's feelings in order, much to Hinata's disappointment. The mystery of his own feelings had been solved by someone who couldn't feel in the first place. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The rest of the night is spent trying to figure out his own feelings and Komaeda. Trying to find out how he ticks. It didn't seem to click with him. All of those gentle smiles with such harsh words about himself. Holding everyone on such a pedestal due to their talent. His near obsession with hope. It was all just confusing.

The next day something suprising happened.

"Would you like to spend time with me? I know I'm not worthy of your time, but-"

"Sure, I don't mind." Hinata is quick to nip the self deprocation quickly. He has to admit, he's never liked when Komaeda goes on one of those tangents. "Any place in mind?"

Again, Komaeda seems to put just as much thought into his suggestion like the time before. "How about the library?" The curly haired male spoke up after putting far too much tought into his answer.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the building due to the nature of the island's set up. Pushing open the large door, the two enter. Komaeda seems to be on auto pilot then, maneuvering over to a certain section, Hinata just seems to mirror his pattern, following behind. "Know what your looking for?"

Komaeda nods with a small hum, crouching in front of the shelve, running his finger along the spines of the books. He seemed so focused, to the point where Hinata didn't want to break his trance. Soon enough, he plucks a book from the shelf, standing and reading the back for a moment before nodding to himself. "I've been looking for this for a while," Komaeda spoke up then. "It just always seemes to disappear when I came to get it. Just my luck really." He let's out a small laugh and that leaping feeling came back, a faint blush threatening to creep up on Hinata.

Komaeda's laugh seemed to have this way of lighting up the room. He wanted to know why.

"Is there anything you want to read?" Green eyes blink curiously at him. To be honest, he wasn't very big on reading. He mainly came just to spend more time with him.

"Not really, but what's your book about?"

Those same green eyes widen slightly, blinking a few times. Was... Was he not expecting to be asked that?

"Ah, I'm not very good at describing things, however-" He hands over the book, attempting to give a rough summary. The book was supposed to be a romance novel, and it seemed intresting enough even though he had no clue of what was happening, since he was jumping into the middle of the series. "If you want to, we could read it together...?" Komaeda offered.

Well a little reading wouldn't kill him.

Apparently Komaeda read much faster than him, having to wait for Hinata to catch up before turning the page. Though it didn't help that instead of reading he couldn't help but to let his eyes wander over to Komaeda, focused on reading with his head propped up on his hand.

Like the little frown on his face when Komaeda was focused on something. Or his little reactions as he read something, from having his eyes widen a bit to that frown deepening, to a ghost of a smile.

At some point during Hinata's reading. He feels something hit his shoulder. He's quick to glance over and what he saw caught him off guard. Komaeda had fallen asleep and fell against his arm.

Had his eyelashes always been white? Hinata never noticed before now. And he swore he saw faint freckles across his face. A part of him wanted to wake him up but it felt like doing that was a crime. For now, he just draped an arm over him so he wouldn't fall.

You should tell him.

Kamukura spoke up, as Hinata lie awake in bed once again.

"Tell him what?"

That you like him.

"Of course I do. He's my friend." He laid an arm over his head, staring up at the ceiling. At this point he had the pattern memories. He wondered if the other rooms had the same pattern.

Don't lie to yourself. I see how you look at him. You're infatuated with him.

"Whatever."

Days turned to weeks, the two kept spending more and more time together much to their classmates' dismay. Stolen glances had been frequent among each other. It had been a wonder how neither had been caught, though Hinata swore he'd seen a blush creep up on Komaeda more than once.

But now it was the night before the end of their trip. Everyone had been celebrating how close they'd gotten, and they were enjoying their last night together in this strange predicament regardless of the storm outside.

Hinata didn't mind sticking to the wall, occasionally chatting with his fellow classmates. However there was something missing. Well, someone to be more specific.

He hadn't seen Komaeda in the past couple of hours which was strange. Komaeda might not have always spoken up much in the group, but he always lingered near by. Hell even Nanami had been chatting, playing video games with some of the others.

He decided to go find him and drag him back if need be. The rain had picked up significantly since the party had started, Hinata being drenched with minutes of being outside. He looked around the hotel, even going to check Nagito's room and having no luck finding the male. He keeps looking however and it pays off, finding Komaeda sitting on the beach.

He's soaked to the bone, curls clung to his face as he stares out into the ocean. He looked like a wet dog, to put it nicely. Hinata makes his way over, standing next to the other.

"You're going to get sick out here, you know that right?"

Komaeda flinched hearing a voice he hadn't expected, though he looked up with a smile. "I'd get sick regardless Hinata. You of all people should know that."

He sits down next to the other then. "Gonna tell me what's got you out here?"

The response he gets is a shrug as he returns to staring out at sea. "I know I should be happy, that we all get to leave but... I'm not."

"Want to tell me why?"

"It's pointless."

"I'm not so sure about that."

A few moments pass in silence, though it never feels uncomfortable, like when a conversation falls between two close friends, enjoying the silence and each other's company.

"Do you think we'll keep talking?" Komaeda finally spoke, breaking their mutal silence.

"What do you mean? Of course we will. I mean, we did spent time together as a class-"

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"My luck gets people taken from me, Hinata. People die, or abandon me, or worse. I'm a hazard. Being around me is dangerous." Komaeda seems to curl in on himself then, pulling his knees closer.

"Maybe I like danger-"

"Don't say that!" Komaeda snapped, taking Hinata aback. He's not sure he's ever heard him yell before. "This isn't a joke! People have died because of my luck! I don't want to lose more peopl because of it! Not when I care so much for you!"

"Komaeda..."

"I've lost so much because of my luck!I can't lose you too! I've been trying so hard to hold you and every one here at arms length! Yet you just came back over and over!" It was hard to tell, but he knew some of the water on Komaeda's face wasn't just rain.

"Because I care about you Komaeda. I wanted to understand you, fuck I still don't fully. You're an amazing person, I just wish you'd see that." He tries to keep his voice calm, reassuring even. Though Komaeda's distraught look made that hard.

"You don't understand! My luck hurts everyone I love! I can't let you get hurt too because I love you too much!" The words blurt out before Komaeda can stop them. He's quick to try and get up and flee before Hinata grabbed his wrist.

"Komaeda I know the risks involved. I know you think you're dangerous but I know better. I know you have barely there freckles. I know your eyebrows furrow when you read. I know you have a soft spot for animals. And I know how I feel about you."

Slowly, Komaeda turns to face Hinata again. "You do?"

For once, Hinata reacted on impulse, pressing his lips against Komaeda's. He felt him tense at the contact before melting into the kiss. Saying it felt like two puzzle pieces clicking together felt like something from that cheesy romance novel, but it felt right.

Slowly, they pull away staring at each other. "Hinata-"

Suddenly a loud cheering is heard and Hinata's face burns a bright read as he recongized the sound.

"They finally did it!" Mioda cheered loudly. It seemed at some point the class had gone after the two as well. He also sees Souda forking over some money to Kuzuryu. He looks back to Nagito, who had a big smile worn like a medal.

Yeah, he was okay with this.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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boogiewrites · 4 years

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No. 9: The Body

Chapter One

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary: Eve, once a rebellious runaway had turned her life around through the help of others to now be a doctor. She tries to return the favor these days. When a mysterious man keeps popping up in her life, what will her natural talent for healing become when it finally meets someone else with abilities like hers? The introductory chapter.

Warnings/Tags: Meet Cute. Some medical/blood/injury stuff.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

The phrase, “business as usual” couldn’t really apply to work in an Emergency Room but when you worked an ER in New York, literally anything could be called as such. So the day began, and so did the rush of decisions, needles, charts, and blood as the job called for. She changed out her off duty uniform of pants that compromised mostly of spandex. For the season warm fleece-lined leggings were her go-to currently. Her boots needed replacing, as she’d bought new sneakers for work but neglected her everyday ones. What a metaphor for her life that was. You couldn’t really wear anything but boots in the city winter as the mess on the streets would seep through anything else. She peeled off her layers of a tank top, t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket to stuff into her locker and got into her sterile looking and feeling scrubs that served as her protection from whatever the wild night of New York emergency room drama would unfold. “Doctor Corpuz to the ER please.” She heard the intercom over her headphones. It was already starting. —

The night had been average, traffic accidents, assault, chest pains, overdose, nothing that would throw Eve off her game. Her years of residency had assured that. As usual, she became drained the longer the night went on, hitting the caffeine hard to make it through the last hours.

“Uh, hey, Eve we’ve got this guy in room 3 and he’s being…. a bit belligerent,“ the woman rolled her eyes as she casually leaned on the counter “He’s scaring the intern, you might wanna go help deescalate.” A half-smile that made it clear that the news delivered was something said more times than either of them could count now. “Since you’re so good at it and all.” She cracks her gum and even though it’s delivered sarcastically, the jab was actually true.

“Ugh.. why do I have to be the one that’s good at this?” She huffs and shrugs with heavy arms as she throws a playful pout her friend’s way. “Why can’t you just go yell at them? It sure scares me.” Eve quips as she stretches to prepare herself.

“I already did and he did not respond well to authority so… in you go Mr. Rogers.” She hits Eve on the shoulder with the patient’s file and she dramatically grasps it.

“Tired of being good cop. Let me yell at the next one alright?” She says back as she walks away.

“Got it Doc.” She answers as she begins to walk away.

Eve takes a deep breath and focuses before entering the room, trying to bring up that positive side of herself for the task at hand.

“I told you what I told ya, alright?” She could see from the chart and the bleeding man lying on a bed in front of her in a stance all black and leather ensemble. Her first thought was oh god what did he get stabbed with? He looks like he’s been at some BDSM party that went south, in the bad sense, and fast. It was multiple stab wounds to the abdomen and he was ready to be sewn up but wasn’t agreeing to be still despite the pain medicine he’d been given.

“Hey, dude we can we just shhh a little? Bring down the volume a touch?” She asks as the black-haired man turned his head her way. His dark brown eyes were glazed and he was clearly feeling the pain pills. A heavy brow lay low and angry as he sized her up a bit slower than he was accustomed to.

“Who are you?” He asks with a bite.

“I could ask you the same thing. I’m the ER Doctor tonight, Eve Corpuz. And you are?”

“I’m nobody.” He answers at a lower volume.

“Well Nobody, looks like I’ve got to stitch you up. Would you mind if I got to it?” She snaps on her gloves as the nurse pushes a tray with her instruments on it towards her.

“I need to get out of here.” He says, voice now at a more acceptable volume.

“If you let me sew you up you’ll be out of here right after and then we’ll all be happy, alright?” She gives smile his way that was softer than her tone. “I think I’ve got it from here Sherry. I won’t be needing any help will I Nobody? I can sew you up real quick and we can get on with our nights? Since you seem so busy and all?”

He looks to the other nurse and back to the doctor, muscles still tense but in a much more passive body language. “Yeah…okay.” He nods and his clearly scowling eyes kept on the nurse.

“Alright we’re good here. I’ll finish up and you can get Mr. Nobody here some pain control to take home ready?”

“I’ll be back in with the forms.” She responds, another way to let the doctor know she would be close by. After a shared nod, they said, “Yes I’m sure.” She was left alone with the scowling stranger.

“I don’t like her.” He pointed and laid back down on the table.

“That’s fair.” Eve shrugs, seeing a calm and casual approach was working best. “I just want to get you as best prepared as I can to heal up well, alright? I’m not gonna hound you for info like they were. That’s not my job.” She gives a humorous smile as she preps the areas on his stomach.

He blinks at her, looking down at her hands as she touches the wounds, and his nose twitches from pain. He says nothing as his attention is averted and her tone not aggressive and being reasonable with him.

“This part is gonna hurt. I’m not gonna bullshit you alright? But it’s not as bad as being stabbed so… Got me?”

His eyes meet hers. his round and partially, deep-set against full dark brows and goatee against his brown skin. “What kind of doctor says bullshit?” He asks with a head tilt.

“The kind that gets shit done.” She smiles and shrugs. “I’ve been on the other side of this situation before, I know it sucks and I’m not here to be the bad guy. I’m not a snitch… a narc or whatever, I’m just Eve and I wanna help. Because I know what it’s like.” She says earnestly and he doesn’t detect any bullshit as she’d said. He could read people, and he found her a little odd but… genuine.

“You been stabbed before?”

“I have.” She nods. “It fuckin hurts doesn’t it?” She laughs and nods, testing the equipment.

“Yeah. It does.” He gives a huff with a more relaxed expression before wincing.

“Where did you get stabbed?” He asks, brain still trying to read her.

“In the arm.” She nods casually.

“Ow.”

“Yeah ow.” She smiles he continues keeping her focus on cleaning up her space and open her tools.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why did you get stabbed?” she gives him a no-nonsense glance

“I was saving a cat from a tree.” his testy tone was full of pain med induced confidence.

“So did the tree stab you or the cat stab you with a 4-inch blade?”

“The cat.” He responds was as snarkily as she had in their back and forth.

“Mean cat.” She replies with a more casual smile as they begin to feel each other out.

“Yeah. He was a real asshole.”

She begins tapping the area and he doesn’t react. “Think we’re good now. Don’t move, please?”

“Kay.” He nods and lets his head fall back. As she works he watches her face. “So how did you get stabbed?”

“Would you believe a cat got me too?”

He gives a little confused smile. “I wouldn’t actually.”

“Then we have that in common.”

He grunts in appreciation for her attitude. Guess he’d have to work harder to figure her out. She looked warm, yet severe and her faded tattoos peeking out from her collar and sleeves were proving very interesting to him. She didn’t look or more interestingly feel like a doctor to him. He was used to pretending to be things he wasn’t, but if she was, she was better than him at it.

“Looks like I need to get more stuff.” She mutters, looking around the room. She covers two of three wounds and sighs. “I’ll be right back okay?”

“Okay.” He says with a face that she believed. But it wasn’t the first time her caring nature would’ve been taken advantage of, and the entertaining stranger was gone when she returned to the room. Nothing but the blood left behind and a warm indent on the bed. He was good, she thought. Actually, she was downright impressed he got past her. It’d be a headache for paperwork later but a good story to tell at least.

————————————

The next night the stranger named Nobody was the farthest thing from Eve’s mind. She was enjoying her take out, the container in hand, and chopsticks tapping to the playlist titled “classical: chill”. She’d made it to play when she studied in school and during residency and apparently she’d conditioned herself to be more relaxed while she played it.

The sun had just gone down and the winter chill was heavy around her windows. In her functional fashion, she wore sweats and slippers and layers topped with a hoodie. She was swaying and focusing on how good cold lo mein could be. The light of her standing lamp illuminating the solid rectangle of open space that was her kitchen and living room. Much like her fashion, it was cozy and functional. Nothing brash or bold, just neutral colors and lots of comforts.

Eve was winding down to sleep off her last shift, making some time to eat and enjoy herself before having to get back to it the next morning. Her dark hair was damp and twisted on top of her head, glasses mended with floss sat unsecured on her nose as she ate with her eyes closed. During the weeks where she had close shifts she usually took it easy on herself, her hours could vary wildly, and sometimes that worked in her advantage and sometimes it didn’t. But it wasn’t anything new to her. She figured if she made it through residency she could make it through anything, and right now the coziness, the juxtaposition of inside her little warm home and the biting January cold that lay just outside the windows. They sat with curtains that fell ceiling to floor, mostly drawn. Being on the third floor she had never been too worried about anyone seeing into her windows. But perhaps she should have been.

That, forgotten in this moment, Nobody was taking full advantage of the small space left by the curtains. He peered in, watching her. He drummed his gloved fingers over two healed fresh scared marks near his ribs. He could find anything sinister about her. She wasn’t any sort of plant in the hospital and she wasn’t there looking for him. She seemed like a nice enough woman actually, but he knew there had to be something he was missing.

He continued this for days. He would follow her around, trying to figure out what her deal was. He’d become a bit preoccupied with it, as was his nature. Since his return to the city, he’d been going from vigilante case to case to distract himself. It felt like old times in fleeting moments, but when the chaos that had surrounded him recently came rushing back at him, he wasn’t one to wallow in his sadness. Rather it hung around as he decided to go back to doing the thing he knew best. Without connects at the police anymore he was left with that familiar feeling of being a lone wolf . He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, and it wasn’t on his list of things to contemplate soon. So a mystery woman, ironically enough was what the doctor ordered when it came to distractions.

So far she was pretty boring. As far as people with powers went, he guesses. She liked coffee, take out. Nothing that interesting, except that he was now totally healed, scarred and the pain was only a memory. She was a doctor, sure, but he’d never healed that fast in his life. He’d worked himself up to conspiracy theories of her using some new medicine that was being tested on civilians without their knowledge. But he found nothing of the sort. There wasn’t a lot on her when he searched her name. First-year doctor at a hospital, went to medical school and college, what you’d expect. She spent most of her time working, goes out with some women she works with on occasion, then went home. No following her to a seedy alley for a secret meeting or her making coded phone calls. No, she was just a woman who left her curtains open and he felt like he’d hit a wall on the investigation. So for now, she remained a collection of scribbled notes in his apartment.

His other antics, most that involved fighting and men with guns and knives, understandably led to frequent injuries for him, most ones he could handle. But it just so happened next time he got really hurt, he knew exactly which doctor to go to.

—————

Eve got there early, a shoulder gunshot wound and a split open brow. A not unusual combination. She approached the room, and no one but her seemed to recognize the man that lay in the bed.

She noticed he looked almost relieved at the sight of her, which she wasn’t used to.

“I got it.” She says a nod to the nurse as he approaches him.

“Listen, Doc you gotta get me out of here.” He begins.

“Yeah I knew that was you…” she gives him a side-eye. “I think you need either new hobbies or new friends because this is the second time in what… a month you’re in here?

“You do recognize me.”

“Of course I do you know how much of a pain in the ass paperwork is when you disappear?”

“No.”

“Clearly since you ran last time.” She says more severely as she begins the usual process again.

“Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing personal.” he offers with a shake of his head. “ This time there’s gonna be cops and you can’t let them in here. They’ll see me and arrest me and I don’t want that.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why do they want to arrest you?”

“Because they think I did something.”

“Did you…?”

“No.”

She considers his eyes for a moment, whether he was being honest or not. “…What’s your name?”

“So you can tell the cops, yeah no thanks.”

“Fair…Then tell me how you got stabbed.” It was more of a demand than a request. A terms of service agreement for her involvement.

“I was after a bad guy and he fought back, then more bad guys showed up and one of them got me.” his response was as vague as he could get away with, they both knew that.

“You’re the good guy in this instance?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you some undercover…something-er-other?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Just a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted. Not a criminal.”

She sighs and he hisses as she begins to work on him. He notices her lips purse and her eyes making a decision beyond watching the work she was doing?

“Doctor Corpuz, there are some policemen that want to ask you some questions.

“Tell them I’m finishing up a procedure, to stay by the front desk and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Doctor.” the nurse bows.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

She stays quiet, finishing up sewing and reaching for a bandage. “Yeah.” she nods.

“Good, I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

She swings her eyes his way in a clear glare that told him she did not find his joke funny. “You aren’t helping your case any random nobody who’s been stabbed multiple times in the past month. You clearly are good at making decisions, maybe I should tell them about you.” she retorts with more sting and she gives his stomach a harsher pat before moving away.

“Uh…it was..it would be funny if you knew me. I don’t want to hurt you…Eve Corpuz.” he glances at the tag and then her face.

“No, we’re back on a Doctor-patient relationship now.”

“But you’re still gonna help me get out?”

“Yes, fuck, I said I would already.” she shakes her head at him and motions for him to sit up. “I’ll have them at the front desk and distract them, and you go out the back way. You’ll get some attention, but not from them.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the coolest doctor they’ve ever met?”

“They haven’t actually. Usually, they’re too busy screaming in pain when we meet.” she cleans the space and begins to walk out the door as he catches her wrist.

“Thanks. Doctor. Eve. Whatever.”

“Well, you’ll owe me I guess. What good that does me when I don’t even know you’re name, huh? Just get out as quietly as possible, alright? Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” he nods and releases his grip on her.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego gargeeves x ofc #tua fanfic #david castaneda #tua fandom #tua fan fic #tua fan fiction #diego hargreeves fic #diego hargreeves fan fiction

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dredreadsdrawing · 4 years

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Oc-tober Day 13: Future

........... Yall ready for a bigass story dump? Oh boi. Here we go..... (also bonus points and possibly a free sketch will be given to whoever guesses what this story was originally a fanfic of ;p) Again, hate these sketches but im short on time for these posts lol and my pen tablet broke. No more pen pressure, the lines come thick and round always now. big oof.

This story is set in an apocalyptic future.

Small note, i had written originally written half of this in a post, it crashed and didn’t save, so i rewrote it and it became more detailed and uh. im basically like. almost halfway through the fuckin story so..... please enjoy? :,3 I tried going full but its so much plz i cant ah i already have two other oc-tober prompts to complete ;o;

I would also like to specify that uuh this story situation is something I need to work out the kinks for lol. Definitely. Buuuut this is all I have for now XD please take it with a grain of salt. Oke here story:

- First and foremost, make no mistake, the Yellow and Pink siblings are the main characters. I haven’t fleshed out the others as much as I have these two because of this.

- It starts with Yellow and Blue. Friends since before they could walk. Their parents were already friends, so it was only natural. Pink was born once they finally hit school, and she grew up seeing Blue as a second brother figure. He was clearly a part of the family.

- As time went on, though, these familial feelings were turning into something else. Yellow was hit with the realization that he liked his best friend. More than that, he was head over heels in love. But there were lots of problems with this.

- For one, as soon as he realized his feelings, Blue had made it big in the newest gaming scene. The newest consoles had yet to be mastered, but he pioneered it, creating the first high scores, and charming the onlookers with his commentary as he did so. The rest of the bunker took him in as a new young celebrity.

- Another big problem was, of course, how close they already were. ‘Brothers’ this, and ‘siblings’ that. The world already saw them as having this relationship, Yellow himself has told them before that Blue was this to him. But now he wasn’t. Yellow could die from embarrassment and shame.

- And no matter how hard he tried following behind Blue, Yellow just isn’t as gifted; neither on screen nor with his people skills. Yellow does well enough to be a part of the top, but he never stands out. He doesn’t feel special enough.

- Meanwhile, Orange and Pink are the best of friends. When Pink was little and saw how well her brother got along with Blue, she felt she wanted something like that too. She found her match at school, with the shy and quiet Orange. She was always nervous, but when she opened up, Pink found her to be clever, quick witted and sarcastic. She was a blast. They were inseparable babies, and quickly, they made a promise.

- It started with Pink proposing to Orange. She liked her! They should clearly get married! But Orange wasn’t so quick to agree. Marriage is such a big commitment! Her mom would never allow it! So they compromised. No matter their future, they’d live close together. They’d always be together.

- Even as Orange’s older sister took a dislike to Pink’s rowdiness.

- As time went on, and puberty hit, some things came to light. Pink was very much into girls, in very explicit ways. Orange was…. Not. Nothing explicit for her, thank you very much. Through teenhood, the two kept their strong friendship, though, and always comforted one another. Lots of Pink’s girlfriends ended up jealous of Orange, but Pink would stop them at their tracks. Orange would always be a part of her life. If they don’t get along with her, there’s no point keeping a relationship that doesn’t recognize this.

- Moving onto the plot, here it is. Everyone is already an adult, Pink and Orange being the youngest. There is a prestigious event that’s going to happen; the launch of the newest console that will feel the most life-like. To celebrate this launch, seven players will be chosen through competitions, and they’ll get to play the first quest in a livestream. It’ll take them three days.

- Competitions come and most people that were already suspected to be chosen make it. With two surprises. Yellow, who barely got top due to pure luck. And White who… well, Orange is the best medic, hands down. Everyone knows she knows her strategies and most effective ways to save the group. She’s effective. Always where she needs to be. And yet, even though she got the highest score, she’s been pushed aside and her place in the team was given to White. Everyone screams malarky.

- Pink is pissed for her friend. She was going to have a great time with her in the game! They would be pioneers together! Orange calms her down. Pink should have fun without her, it’s not a big deal. Orange still has her high scores, and she can keep her notoriety. This won’t affect them in the long run. Pink relents but isn’t happy. She hates White and sees him as a prissy elitist. As they go to get lunch, they pass Red. Pink casually invites her to eat with them. Red says she’s busy. Pink is disappointed and Orange laughs. Pink’s got her eyes on Red. If she can’t spend her time with her friend, she’ll be spending it getting closer to her instead…

- Orange goes home and mopes in secret. She stayed calm for Pink’s sake but she’s really taken this loss hard. She needed to make a break in her record. Have a flashy accomplishment. And it was stolen from her. Her older sister comes in. She’s the head of coding for this new game. Orange mopes around her, begging for her to let her in, or to at least tell her why she didn’t make it. Her sister keeps her lips shut. But. She does concede that it was unfair. She prepares Orange’s favorite dinner and bought her favorite dessert. Orange smiles at the heartfelt show of sympathy and doesn’t bring it up again. Whatever it was that happened, it wasn’t her sister’s fault.

- White is from a legacy of high-rankers. They’ve always kept their marks perfect, and drilled perfection into their kids. IF there wasn’t a white player in a prestigious event, they had failed. Out of the newest generation’s three, White is the youngest and…. The least skilled. They try! They’ve worked so hard all their life, but their reflexes aren’t as polished no matter how hard they focus. They just can’t be better than Orange, the true best medic. Before the tournament, he had become depressed. He didn’t even want to try out for it, knowing what would happen. But he ran into Red, an old acquaintance from past games, who picked up on how red his eyes were. She treated him to a warm drink. She let him vent. She showed genuine concern, and was gentle as she reassured him she knew his worth. He’s always been a great partner in the games she’s played with him. She knows he’d be a great addition to the team if he makes this. With her words of confidence, he’s flushed. A renown sense of hope…. And a new attraction makes him try harder. He competes. He pushes and pushes to save his teammates. But he’s just not as effective or calculative and Orange gets the big win save for hers. She won, fair and square. But when they present the awards…. It’s White they call out. He’s…. floored. He didn’t win. Why was he getting into the group?

- He accepts the award. He’s not happy about it, but… it’s all he can do. He asks his family what strings they pulled. They never give him an answer. They don’t even congratulate him or leave any messages as he prepares to stream. He’s left alone to face the wrath of the people who knew Orange deserved his place, her best friend Pink at the forefront. To treat him like the petty sore loser he didn’t want to be. He slapped himself. He can’t let them win. He’ll do it. Red believed in him. He’ll show them what he’s made of with this game! He won’t die. And… he notices the looks Pink is giving Red. He doesn’t like that. He’s going to get closer to Red for sure. He knows he stands no chance with her… but he wants to be someone she opens up to too. And she may not like him romantically, but Pink is in no way someone who deserves her attention. With how brash, rude and self-centered she is? White hates her. They’re going to keep butting heads.

- Yellow and Blue practice together nonstop. They are in sync, years of getting to know each other’s play style has them adept to being a team. After beating a favorite of theirs, they go out to celebrate. On the way there, Blue keeps being stopped to be congratulated. No one congratulates Yellow. Not that he minds… he doesn’t do well under the spotlight. But… as they sit down to eat, Yellow’s concerns bubble up. After a few drinks, he comes clean. He’s not sure he deserves to be a part of the team. It was pure luck that he barely scraped by and got the most points. He doesn’t even remember what he did to get them. Blue pats his shoulder, and shakes him. He reassures him its only his insecurities making him feel like this. Yellow deserves to be there. And he won’t be alone. Blue will always have his back. Yellow smiles and they have a good time the rest of the night.

- After a month of preparation, presentations, and practice, it’s finally time. They wave to everyone as they step into the room that will start their procedure. They’ll be knocked out, have their bodies connected to the game, and awaken in it.

- They’re up. They’re in a metal chamber. They’ve already got their armor suits on, and their weapons are right beside them. It’s a survival game set in what the upper world would look like. They must treat this as real life. Supplies are provided; this is just a trial of the game. The setting isn’t on difficult. Their main focus is to not die, and to get to the end of this delivery mission. They’ll send a note to a sanctuary, the path already set, and it should only take them three days tops. Easy enough. They leave the chamber and take in the view outside, blinking at the harsh morning light. Their livestream begins, their helmets broadcasting what they see.

- The world is a dump. Nice graphics though. They step out and thus begins the journey. From this point forward, I’ll just mildly explain some events. Some will be more detailed than others cuz this is all a haze.

- First, as they walk around, they catch the attention of people in cars. Their first bad guys. The bad guys don’t stand a chance against them, and retreat. Red is cautious of them coming back.

- They stop when they reach an abandoned house, no neighbor houses anywhere. It looks so normal. They step inside and, though decrepit, everything looks ok. Until they reach the basement. An underground lab. Years of gaming has made them apprehensive. They can’t understand what’s going on but this doesn’t look good.

- Before they can find logs on an old computer, the bad guys they fought before indeed burst through with reinforcements. It’s a close battle, and most of the lab is destroyed in the process. The team beats most of them as one drops a light. The building is set on fire. The team runs away, but Green dropped her gun. Black can’t let them go empty-handed, he leaves his sniper with her and goes back to get it. The fire reaches the lab, to the gas storage and the house explodes while he’s inside. Black is out of the game.

- Green is miffed. He died so early, and for such a dumb reason! They told him not to go in!! Everyone crowds around them. He’ll be ok, they can yell at him when they win the game. They are comforted by that fact, but still, this loss is taking a toll immediately. They were supposed to be seven and now they are six. So they really will just die and not respawn. For now, they need to continue.

- The team move forward a bit more but stop to rest for the night once they reach an old city. Red just lost her second in command. She needs someone else to fill in. Pink and White go hard trying to impress her all night. Their stumbling and forcefulness leaves Red more exasperated. She ultimately chooses Blue instead.

- Where before, Yellow and Blue would be goofing off together, now he has to stay beside Red and help her be vigilant and strategize. Yellow feels a bit left behind again, but Blue reassures it’s only temporary. For them to win the game.

- They take a rest in an old mattress shop. Perfect for their sleep. They take turns being on watch, not taking off their suits. They were told to keep them on at all times. For safety reasons. And the slight discomfort they felt sleeping with them wasn’t unbearable. It was a calm enough night.

~~~

- A shift in perspective to Orange, she’s been watching the livestream nonstop from the comfort of her home. She checks the media (idk technology I guess these phones just work within their space? Underground? Lolol man idk XD sorry) and everyone is sad about Black being the first to go. Somewhat meanly, people start callously saying Yellow or White should’ve died first.

- The question pops up. When will they be seeing Black? Now that he’s out of the game, he should be returning. No answer from the game manufacturers. Radio silence.

- Her sister comes home late that day. She looks frantic and doesn’t even tell Orange hello. She goes straight to the kitchen, picks up a container, and packs in food. She does this when she’s staying the night at the office. Orange is concerned. She asks about Black’s return. Her sister flinches. She stops. After a few, quiet moments, she shakily confesses.

- “He’s…. dead.”

- It’s all over the media the next day. There was a malfunction in the game machine. There is a risk of the players dying in real life if they die in game. They just lost Black. Everyone is horrified and outraged. The government tries to reassure the public. They are looking into it. They will bring justice. Orange is beyond worried for everyone, but particularly Pink. She should’ve been there. She wouldn’t let them die. But here, at the Bunker, there’s nothing she can do. Only watch and hope.

~~~~~~~~~

- Two days left. They’re doing well on time. Their map is a general one, only showing the straight line they need to take. No small details or markers to be had. Pink and White are still at each other’s throats, blaming the other for not getting the position beside Red. A scuffle comes to them. Not the same bad guys, new ones. More sophisticated ones. They aim for their heads, and shout insults at them. Calling them ‘Bomberbees’.

- In the scuffle, Yellow notices something off. A child by themselves, no older than four or five, in the middle of the street, getting caught in the crossfire. They hide behind an old, toppled over car, but stray bullets hit the gas. It drips and Yellow remembers Black’s death. Without much thinking, they scurry from the fight to pick up the kid and run. Sure enough, a spark from a fire close by lands in the gas, and causes another fire. Then bam, second explosion. The kid is clinging to him, Yellow has gotten them out of the fire, but now they’re being chased by someone from the attackers. They get caught in a shop without exits. Yellow tries to shoot with one hand, but he can’t get the attacker. As they near, they pick up a heavy display, readying to crush Yellow and the kid. A shot hits them in the neck and stops them, making the heavy load also slip and fall on their head. They’re dead. Blue rushes inside. He’s furious.

- He’s cursing at Yellow for putting his life in danger like that. Yellow lets go of the kid, and they run away immediately, scared of Blue. Yellow is anxious, wanting to follow the child. Blue is incredulous. It’s an NPC. Yellow tries to reason. Maybe it’s a side quest? It’s a kid alone in this dangerous hell hole. They should help. Blue shakes his head, they already lost Black. They can’t lose Yellow. Not for this. He uses his rank, as second in command. Yellow can’t look for the kid. It’s an order. They return to the group.

- They had managed to kill enough for the bad guys to retreat, but the toll was heavy on their resources. In just these first two days, they’ve gone over half their ammo. Realizing their situation, Red begins prioritizing looting. She was right the first time when she said bad guys return with reinforcements. These new dudes can too.

- Taking advantage of the big city, they venture a bit to get more ammo. They split into groups. Unfortunately, despite her protests, Pink gets put with White. Red was hoping they’ll work whatever they have going on. They bicker as they leave, and she already regrets her decision.

- Yellow gets put with Green, and they go the opposite direction. Close to where the child ran off. He recounts what happened as they scavenge around, Green listening with only mild interest. Then she sees a kid herself, at the end of a street with a toppled skyscraper. It motions to them. They follow.

- The kid leads them to their home inside the topped skyscraper. There’s a bunch more kids. They’re surrounding one of themselves, a hurt girl. The boy Yellow saved quietly steps forward and asks him to help her too. Yellow and Green look at each other. Side quest?

- Blue and Red are on their own. They have the easiest time out of all of them. They started by looting the bodies. They never really got to appreciate it before, but these gory details…. Went above and beyond. Almost felt surreal to Blue that he was gathering bullets from the pockets of a man’s bottom half torso, his top half across the room. He suspected if he took off his helmet, the place would smell too. Red is quiet, but she eventually breaks the silence. She apologizes for putting Blue as her second in command without asking him. He shakes it off. It’s alright. Black’s death was unexpected. Black’s death. Blue almost shivers thinking about it. Everything in the game has felt so lifelike. He’d hate to go out with a bang like that. He tried making the situation lighter by bringing up what Black would be doing right now. Probably, he’d be escorted to the hotel nearby to stay and watch the livestream until his teammates finished. He’s probably beating himself up over being the first to die. Red shakes her head, remembering how her friend hated losing first. But more than that, he hated being separated from Green. This would be his true hell. And the comments he’ll get on his news feed! The roasts! They laughed, imagining it. All for his lover’s gun. Green has him whipped. Blue sorts through some more piles of trash, the laughter dying down. Behind his smile, he hid concerns. It was so fast to die here. No health bars to keep in check. Nothing but realism. He had to keep Yellow safe.

- Cut back to Pink and White. Though they hate each other, they do work together. There’s no point letting their disagreements drag the group down. They manage to find an old gun store. Jackpot? As they scavenge, a wild, and mutated animal enters the store. A chase ensues. White is quick and small. He manages to get away fast, leaving behind the stocky and slower Pink. She curses at him for not sticking to her. She gets cornered as more of the same mutants show up. She decides she needs to blow them in one go. It’s her only choice. Though it’s one of her last three, she readies her grenade, but is beat to the punch by a giant beam crushing all three mutants. The dust settles and she sees White on top of the beam, having pushed it down with his entire weight. He’s hurt.

- He turns on his healing, but it’ll still take a while. She helps him up. She’s salty, but grateful. He’s limping. They’re far from the group. And they still need to go back and check for ammo. Stuck together for longer, they finally break the ice. She was impressed by how quick he was. He hesitantly takes the compliment. As they continue, curiosity burns. She’s been chastising him for so long, she wants genuine answers. She asks him why he chose to be a medic. He says he didn’t. He was forced into it because, naturally, his siblings and parents already filled other roles. She doesn’t like this answer. So he relented? Just like that? She lets him have it. Orange loves being medic. She put her heart and soul into her job. He just does this because of his family.

- White bites back. Yeah he gave in. His family is so overwhelming. His entire life was already given goals he didn’t choose. An idea he had to live as. Of course she wouldn’t understand. No one but them would understand. He has no choice. But he doesn’t want to disappoint or be a burden. That’s his reason for training! He…. Breaks down at this. He cries. Pink is very uncomfortable. They reach the gun store and separate again. Its quiet with the occasional sniffles. Pink feels…. A bit bad.

- They do find ammo. White heals. They walk back. Pink relents after a few minutes, and tells White that… he isn’t.. the WORST medic. He did manage to be second in the competition. That counts for something. He’s surprised by her try at peace. He also gives in. He says he’s sorry for taking Orange’s spot. He honestly didn’t ask for it. But his family… Pink is surprised by this confession. So he didn’t get in because he pulled strings. It was his overbearing parents. She finally gives up her hatred for the short dude. It’s not helping either of them. They return more successful than the others, being the second group back. To Red’s delight, White and Pink aren’t fighting anymore. She gives them both a pat and congratulates them. She’s proud they can work through their differences. As she leaves them, they both sigh at the same time. Then look at each other. Oh yeah. They’re still rivals.

- Yellow and Green get back late. They tell the group about the kids. Blue is quick to groan, but Red takes an interest. She allows the team to accept the side quest. They just need to help one hurt kid, after all. They turn to White, pleadingly. Can he do it? White gulps, the pressure being on for him to succeed. Now was his chance to prove himself as a medic.

- Still not sure how to make the healing system work exactly, but ultimately, he succeeds. The kids swear he’s a wizard, but he brushes it off. Still, he’s flattered and riding a high from his success. They say goodbye to the kids, who take a liking to White, Green and Yellow for being nice. They still don’t like Blue and are wary of Pink and Red. Either way, they leave, and the three favored talk about how real the kids acted. The NPCs in this world are well-made.

- They’re on the move and there’s some lighter bickering between White and Pink as they continue trying to get Red’s attention, but she ignores them. They halt their walking as a familiar event occurs, dirty beat up cars coming and circling them. They stop and open. A big man, clearly in charge steps out. He’s there to give them a warning. When they stepped inside that normal-looking house, they were in Crumble territory. His lackeys foolishly followed behind, and now the building is gone. He’s barely placated these ‘Crumbles’ by making a deal with them. To catch this team and bring them back. His lackeys point their weapons. Are they going to come quietly or do they need to make a scene?

- Pink is excited. “Oh the plot is picking up!” It’s a fight. It’s super close, the hardest fight they’ve been in by far, but it’s completely thanks to their armor that they get the upper hand, and leave by stealing a vehicle. All those driving games taught White how to be a getaway driver well. They escape, and along the way, ditch the car in case they can track it. They survived the second day.

- Back to it being night, they make a fire and gather around. They have bedrolls to sleep in, but it’s uncomfortable. One person will stay guard while the rest sleep. They SHOULD be sleeping in their armor no problem. But especially with the bedrolls… its uncomfortable. So Pink takes hers off. As they choose spots to put down their rolls, she ends up setting hers next to White. She tells him he’s impressed her today. “If you can’t make it as a medic, you can definitely win competitions with those skills you know.” White is embarrassed, but… hopeful. He liked the thrill of going fast. Maybe… this could be something he’s good at. As Pink lays herself down, she slips and hurts herself on a jagged rock. She starts to bleed. White stares. They’re baffled. Having never taken their suits off prior, they hadn’t realized they can bleed. “It even hurts.” Pink laughs it off. “Damn, they went all out for this.” White agrees, but it still doesn’t sit well. Red passes them and his concern fades into thoughts of her instead. He gets up.

- Red is first watch. He stops by to just…. Tell her she’s doing a good job leading them so far. Red is surprised. He never talks to her first, always shy and skittish. She smiles back at him, sadly. She thanks him, but she can’t take the compliment. Black’s loss was a failure on her part. A real good leader would’ve held him back by force. It was a stupid death, no way around it.

- After an awkward silence (because White didn’t know how to follow that up), Red decides its her turn to be nice. She thanks White for saving them today. Her compliment is genuine, and she follows it with a head pat. He’s incredibly happy from this, and goes to bed looking beet red with a goofy smile. Pink notices. She decides it’s time for her to get a bit more aggressive. Gotta put down all her cards before slowpoke seals the deal.

- Pink’s shift is next. As she goes to relieve Red, she also tries for small chat. It doesn’t work. Red calls her out for not being in her armor. Pink says she’ll get it in a bit. Red starts to leave, she is tired. Pink blurts in a moment of impulsiveness.

- “When… all this is done, can we go for a drink?” Red stops and turns around. She’s confused. “Uh.. sure? I imagine we’ll all have a big celebration with alcohol anyways…” “Yeah, but I’m not asking to just get wasted. I’m asking to.. be able to get alone with you.”

- Ah. Now Red gets it. She’s embarrassed. After a momentary pause that feels like forever, she speaks. “I’m… sorry.” Pink is hurt. She knew she had less of a chance with her but she’s still hurt. Pink brushes it off. “It’s ok.” Red still looks like she has more to say, but… she turns back. She’s tired and now isn’t a good time. The stream is still on. God, Red remembered and so did Pink. She just got rejected in front of the whole Bunker... Pink is frustrated and cant sleep even when her shift is done.

~~~~~~~~

- Back at the Bunker, Orange watched the confession and felt terrible for her friend. She had been embarrassed today. Still, more than the concern for her love life, was the concern for her life. The confession was secondary to the threat of them all dying.

- The media has blown up much much more. Everyone was scared for the player’s lives already, but after today’s stream, more joined in. The people that hated White have mostly turned around, finding his day as redeeming. Instead, blame was shifted onto his family as they were now seen for the perfectionist robots they were. But more than that, they have now effectively put their youngest in danger for his life by forcing him onto this game. Very unexpectedly, the Whites…. Showed remorse. They never expected to sign away their child’s life. It was just supposed to be another prestigious event to get their name into. They’re mad at the game developers and are with the people hounding the government to get answers. They’re mad, and they want their family member back. Alive.

- Yellow also begins getting his own fans. Showing care for the NPCs, especially contrasted with Blue’s disregard of them…. Blue fans are buzzing. What kind of person doesn’t care for children, EVEN in a game? Defenders of Blue make their case, it’s a dangerous situation and they’ve lost Black. Though he doesn’t know it, keeping everyone in the team alive over NPCs IS the way to go. Still, it doesn’t sit well with half his supporters, and alliances are shifting. Yellow is gaining followers.

- Pink’s bold declaration made her gain new fans. Many proclaimed that if Pink made it out, they would gladly take her. Orange grimaced at these. Red, likewise, got a lot of…. Hate. Pink fans thought she was too mean with her rejection. Red stans defended her right to say no. There was a battle between the two, and in any other day this would be normal, but the underlying pressure of either not making it highlights their hate for one another. These could be their last moments, and now they’ll spend them awkwardly. Orange sighs and drops her phone.

- All day, Orange’s sister has been out of the house. Though she had taken food with her, Orange guesses it wasn’t enough. Orange hasn’t talked to her all day, not after finding out her friend was in danger and her sister was part of it. There are no words to describe her feelings. Still. With how stressful things are right now…. Her sister should be at her top game trying to fix this. She should be eating well. Orange makes her dinner, still… upset but resigned to what’s happened, and goes to deliver it. Having done this before, she has no problem getting through to her office. She meant to leave the packed, warm lunch in her desk if she wasn’t there, but she dillydallies when she finds the picture of White on her sister’s screen. She looks around. No one is watching her, everyone busy with the catastrophe at hand. She clicks through and discovers. Her sister specifically made the deal to keep her out of the game. To bring White in. In her emails, she seemed aggressive this be done. Even threatening to quit her beloved job. Orange hears the clicking of her sister’s heels and returns everything back the way it was. She sits down at her sister’s seat with the dinner in her lap and her phone in her hand, pretending to have been waiting for her. The interaction is normal. She hugs her, gives her the food, and leaves. On the way out, she sees a group of her sister’s coworkers rush out of a familiar room. The room that’s always been showcased as where the players would be held. She slips behind the cameras and peeks in through the door’s small window. The machine that was supposed to connect everyone’s minds is… empty. They’re not here. Orange’s stomach twists. Where are they then?

- Hearing more people coming, she rushes out of the corridor and out of the building. She has too much to think about. Too many implications. She. Wants. Answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

- One day left. They are close! They wake up and get ready. Their last stop crosses through a town. They’ll get to interact with more NPCs! Everyone is excited. They begin the walk, Blue talking to Red, Green to White. Pink stayed quiet. Yellow is concerned for his sister. All their time spent here, she’s been making googly eyes at Red, and now she won’t even look at her. Oh no. He knows whats up.

- He tries to cheer her up, reminiscing her old girlfriends… and some other nice girls waiting back home. Pink snorts. She’s not in the mood for this. Not from someone like him. Yellow is hurt. What does she mean someone like him? Much to his dismay, Pink gives him a look. Then she looks back at Blue. … she knew? “You knew?” “It’s… not exactly subtle.” She teased. “You’ve liked him since you wer-“ “PINK! SHUT UP!” “What? Rude.” Yellow looks furious. Slow realization dawns on her yet again. She forgot that they were on a stream. Ooh dear.

- Now they were both in a bad mood. Yellow terrified of going back when they won, to having clips of his sister’s words thrown in his and Blue’s face. He never wanted to confess! This will ruin their friendship! And the audience backlash!!!! Blue has a lot of diehard stans that… to put it mildly, are not keen on giving him up. To hear his own best friend, whom they barely tolerated already, has a crush on him. Yellow. Was. Scared.

- Pink feels so guilty. She was already in a crappy mood and now she’s gone and made things worse. It’s her turn to try to reach out and reassure Yellow, when more dust picks up from behind. They hear the sounds of vehicles. Oh great, there’s more. They ready for a fight, but are caught off guard when the cars aren’t stopping. They instead, zoom by, each one trying to wrap a rope lasso around a member as they move. Most of them dodge or cut the ropes in time. Pink doesn’t She’s caught by the midriff and dragged along, her armor taking most of the hits for her as she bounces along the ground. This is NOT her day! Her teammates chase after her, but the cars are too fast. Thinking fast, she pulls a grenade from her backpack. The one she didn’t use against the mutants. She aims, and luck is on her side as she’s able to chuck it inside the open window holding her rope. The car explodes and she’s blown back. She hits her helmet. She dents it. Her livestream is shut off.

- Her teammates get to her just as soon as the cars double back and try to lasso them again. They’re prepared now, dodging and even pulling someone out by yanking on the rope. They kill them. Per Red’s orders, they aim for the wheels. They get one car to pop, the others drive away, having failed. The car they left behind is quiet. They inch closer. They see the figure inside, staring at them. He opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, Green from behind everyone shoots him in the head. She needed to practice using Black’s gun anyways. Everyone congratulates her for her aim… though it wasn’t as good as it could be. She laughs with them, promising to give up being a sniper one this was over. She’s only taking over because she lost her gun.

- Pink gets up. From her reads, its clear her livestream set up is too jammed to start back up again. Her footage is lost now. It’s a bummer. Yellow helps her as they continue moving towards their destination, but neither speak. Still mad. Still guilty. They reach the town. It’s huge! And unlike the abandoned city, it’s full of people… They decide to stay and explore a bit. They had time, their destination was just a ways across from here. They’d make it.

- Trying to distract herself from her conflicting emotions, Pink leaves the group when they’re not looking to go to a bar. There, she finds what she believes to be a mini quest. An old man is complaining about what he calls ‘the abomination’ taking his wares the other day. Pink jumps into accepting this NPC’s quest, to defeat the abomination and retrieve his goods. She follows his directions to the outskirts of town. To a normal-looking cabin. Wanting this to be quick she carelessly blasts the front door open and immediately, a fight begins. The abomination has green fur, different sized golden eyes, and scales and spikes scattered around its body. The abomination makes some clear sounds that reminisce garbles. So it can’t even communicate. This has got to be it.

- They fight, almost destroying the home in the process. The abomination almost bites the dust with a full face blast, but manages to scurry away, Pink hot on their trail. In the chase, she follows it out of the town… into a valley… behind a fence clearly stating danger… The creature leads her to a cave where it gets darker… and warmer… By the time she notices her radiation alarms going off, she’s already feeling sick and exhausted. She passes out.

- She comes to outside, feeling something in her mouth. She swallows unconsciously, but gags at the foul taste and sputters. She looks up at the person holding her. The abomination. Pink is quick on the draw…. Except her gun is not with her. Neither is her suit. She panics but a voice is heard from behind. “She saved you, and you still want to blast her?!” She turns around to see a shiny, scaled person judging her. “You should’ve left her in the cave, Charger.”

- The abomination makes more garbles, with a shrug. Pink is confused. With the help of the draconic(?) (who is the abomination’s brother???) the situation is cleared up. So the quest was a lie. The old man is a smuggler, and the goods they confiscated where weapons stolen from another smaller town nearby. Pink was being played. Pink apologizes, not knowing what else to do. She had thought this was just another clear cut mini-mission. Who knew this game had moral complexity like this?

- Charger forgives her, to her brother’s annoyance. Pink stick around for a bit, offered a place at their dinner table. She got to meet their oldest brother, and taste what local food is really like. It’s not bad. She gets back her suit and weapon. She’s allowed to go. But before she does… she ends up opening up to these nice NPCs. Why not? Her comms where off and her livestream camera was busted anyways. The NPCs nodded along and Charger gave her a hug by the end. The middle brother gave a few words of wisdom. “So it’s not what you wanted. But at least you’ve got a great friend to add to your collection. And she sounds pretty bad ass… you gotta keep those close.” Pink laughed. Yeah… she’s been lucky in the friend department. She mused how much she missed Orange. She got to leave finally, a load off her shoulders. She went back to the group, where stuff… is going down. The town is in chaos and her team is in the middle of it. What happened while she was gone?

- When Pink left, the group had decided to split again. Green, Blue and Yellow went to see something (idk lol haven’t worked this out yet) and White and Red stayed together. They explore the local food and shops. They have a nice time taking everything in. They peak a few people’s curiosities, but they aren’t outright being aggressive, so the NPCs leave them alone. It’s a fun day…. One could even say…. It’s like a fun… date…

- White can’t hold it in anymore. He’s ready to confess. He takes her to a secluded spot and very nervously fidgets with his helmet… taking it off and begins to talk by bringing up a memory. The day Red helped him. Red’s attention is piqued. What about it? White continues. That day, he had hit his alltime low. He was ready to quit gaming altogether. But she… gave him hope again. Made him strive to be someone worthy of working beside her. Her cheeks redden and her eyes widen. She’s realizing where this is going. White continues. Being here, watching her work…. He was content with just staying in the background... but after today. He holds her hand, he himself turning into a tomato. Nervously, he blurts. He wants to stay by her side, even outside of this game. He has his eyes closed. No sounds respond to him. He nervously opens them to see Red’s expression. She looks sympathetic… but that’s it. His heart drops. “White…” His face stays aflame, he wants to cry.

- With a shaky voice he rushes out. “Oh-nonono its ok I just. I pushed this on you- Im ok I just-“ “No. White, listen to me.” He stops his tumbling and listens. He wont look at her, but he’s readying himself for her response. She sighs, and takes his shaking shoulders. “I like you White… but I’m not… interested in being in a relationship. With anyone.” White’s shakiness drops. Ok… now he’s looking at her. Her expression is sincere. White is confused. Red makes a disgruntled noise. “I should’ve explained this sooner to people… I’m not looking for any romance. I just. Don’t have any interest in it.” She looks away, taking another breath and continues. “I know most people don’t understand it but please… believe me. This isn’t me lying to you to make your rejection easier. I…. genuinely am trying to… get you to understand.” Her expressions. Her trying to hard. He’s seen enough. He’s convinced. And he’s honestly... touched. He sniffles and rubs his eyes, he was just about to cry a second ago. But he feels it’s silly now. He’s still sad, but more than that. He smiles at her. He thanks her for confessing this to him… he hopes this means they can stay friends. She smiles back, relieved, beaming. Of course. She thanks him for understanding and ends the conversation with a hug. It’s a nice rejection.

- It’s at this moment, that they are attacked. Caught completely off-guard, they are easy targets. Still, they put up a fight. Red can get to her gun and fends them off. White isn’t as lucky. He’s knocked down easily, tied and gagged. He’s got a concussion, but he’s still fighting to stay conscious. Red chases after them, shooting. People around the streets flee from the scene. Green, Blue and Yellow heard the commotion. They run and are ready to help, weapons raised. The kidnappers know they are outnumbered. But they have leverage. They hide behind White, holding his struggling body. If they shoot, they can hit his soft nogging. The one holding him grips his hair tightly. White makes a noise of pain.

- Pain. In game. The team looks at one another. Red tells them to put their weapons down. They slowly do. A car comes blasting through the now empty streets. Their ride. They’re taking White. If they want him safe, they’ll come with them without any problem. More bad guys get around them. They’re ready to bind them. Red is the quickest shot. She knocks back the person behind her, manages to shoot the two behind Green and Yellow, and Blue followed suit with his own. She points her gun to the one holding White, but a sharp cry of pain makes her hesitate.

- What was he doing? He twisted White’s arm forcefully and doesn’t stop until it snaps. White is screaming. His arm socket has popped off. It hangs loosely. The holder is cursing at them. They should’ve played nice! He throws White into the car and jumps in, closing the door. The car slams it. They shoot but its too late. White is gone. They’ve lost a member to an unforeseen obstacle.

- They’ve failed.

- And more than that.

- Those cries… wont leave their heads. Red throws her gun in anger. White was in pain. There is pain in this game. Real, fucking pain. Blue and Yellow immediately look at each other. Green is in shock. What the fuck is going on.

- Pink returns to this, White missing and the group in shambles. Pink is confused. Of course there is pain. Had no one else noticed? They look at one another. They never left their suits. They never got hurt before this. No. Only White has gotten bruises from the pillar he toppled. Only Pink has gotten cut from a rock. Their only concerns were dodging bullets that didn’t even penetrate their armor. They didn’t think pain would be a factor. This new information sets a series of horrid questions through their brains. It was this easy to get hurt. And Black? He died in an explosion. His suit may protect him from bullets but not from fires that hot. He may be chilling back home now, but at what cost?

- What madman programmed realistic pain into a fucking game.

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vulpesse-arc · 4 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by: stolen :) tagging: @scendant , @verumking , @sunszenith , @blackedsun , @saigeonmain , @quartlet , @shadowhelmed , @hotman , @devilglow , @drivenchaos , @re-no , @ladyfortunes , @cchilyoja , @quartlet , @deathboundinautumn , @ioniacriminal , anyone else who might like to do this :)

MY MUSE IS: canon / oc / au / slightly canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated.

IS YOUR CHARACTER POPULAR IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO. [ She is mayhap one of the most famous characters in the entire franchise as well as one of the oldest and who has suffered the most because of the fandom’s misconceptions. ]

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED HOT™ IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO / IDK. [ Once more, yes, she’s definitely seen as one of the hottest characters in the game. I suppose that this has both good sides and bad sides? Especially when you encounter people who refuse to see past her physique. ]

IS YOUR CHARACTER CONSIDERED STRONG IN THE FANDOM? YES / NO / IDK. [ Ahri might not be the strongest character in the fandom but she’s certainly not weak either. What she cannot accomplish with mere physical strength alone, she can accomplish thanks to her charming abilities so she’s definitely a strong and dangerous opponent to face. ]

ARE THEY UNDERRATED? YES / NO / IDK. [ Yes and no at the same time? People love and hate her in equal measure but, after writing as her for so many years, I have also come to realize that few are the ones who actually pay attention to her lore and to her depth as a character. I’d say that her fame has made people blind towards who she really is and this is very sad. ]

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN STORY? YES / NO, she’s more on the neutral side.

WERE THEY RELEVANT FOR THE MAIN CHARACTER? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [ LOL doesn’t really have a main character or someone who’s inherently more important than others: everyone is the main character of their own specific story. This is why she is relevant to those who encounter her and those who have come to become part of her tale ; for the rest of the world, however, she’s nothing more than a vulpine vastaya with a pretty face. ]

ARE THEY WIDELY KNOWN IN THEIR WORLD? YES / NO. [ Ahri is well known in Ionia due to her past as a vicious man-eater. However, such tales and legends belong to ages long passed and no one would be capable of discerning her true identity by simply looking at her ; this is why even fellow vastayas and ionians are usually unaware of her relation to the beast that devoured entire villages. As far as the whole world is concerned, no, she’s definitely not known by the majority. ]

HOW’S THEIR REPUTATION? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ I’d say that her reputation is definitely bad. As previously mentioned, she carved her name in the legends of Ionia with her undying hunger and through the unfair massacre of many innocent souls ; although such legends do not carry her name, you can still find visual depictions of the vixen who spread chaos and havoc through the holy lands. In the present days, she is still considered as someone who should not be trusted: rumors about what she is capable of have spread and only fools are willing to consciously approach someone who might easily dine on their souls and hearts. ]

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? — I began writing as Ahri many years ago, which means that her lore has been twisted and modified quite some times from the very beginning. Although I do follow her present canon and I do adore every little detail that has been shared in pursuance of giving her more depth, I cannot really leave behind everything that I have developed in the past years. An easy example is the fact that my Ahri is still loosely based on the Korean myth of the “Gumiho”, which is a detail that plays an extremely important part in my portrayal: Ahri is, in fact, more beast than woman, is someone whose morals will always linger in the darkest shades of gray, is someone who adores violence and who has yet to properly harbor any type of guilt for everything that she has done thus far ; another detail is the fact that she devours souls as much as she can indulge in the flavor of hearts and livers as well. So, I would say that my Ahri is canon but with her own little twists?

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — Ahri is an incredibly complex creature, someone whose very existence is quite paradoxical for she represents both death and the maiden at the same exact time. She can be cruel and heartless as much as she can be gentle and dulcet, she is always greedy for knowledge and there is nothing that she adores as much as listening to someone’s stories or learning new facts about a world that is still oh so foreign to her. She’s beautiful, elegant, has the fluffiest tails you will ever see and she’s definitely the best cuddle buddy! Despite her murderous nature, there is something oddly soothing about her company that will naturally lure you closer.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Ahri is not a good person, not even a good animal. She’s incredibly instinctive and easily becomes victim to her own whims and desires and feelings: if she decides that she wants something, she will not stop in front of anything in pursuance of quenching her thirst. Because of this, she’s a huge liar, she’s manipulative and sly and dishonest, she knows the weaknesses of those around her and does not hesitate to exploit them in pursuance of elevating herself to a higher plane. She’s not easy to deal with because she will rarely say the truth and will rarely allow others to come close to her ; it doesn’t matter who the other person is, her first instinct will always be that of hunting them.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE? — I was asked to write as this muse many years ago by a friend of mine. I didn’t even like her at first... I thought that she was nothing more than some easy fanservice for the game but I am so glad that I changed my mind because she has ultimately become my favorite muse and someone I always come back to, no matter how many years have passed.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? — Poetry is perhaps my strongest inspiration when it comes to Ahri! Poetry and visuals of idyllic landscapes, of flowers in bloom, of porcelain marred by blood. Music might sometimes help too (for example I do tend to listen to the OST of “Memoirs of a Geisha” whilst writing replies) but I’d say that poetry is indeed my strongest inspiration, it’s the one thing that makes me think of other aspects of her and that continues to fuel my motivation to be here.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

DO YOU THINK YOU GIVE YOUR CHARACTER JUSTICE? YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ I’m extremely hesitant and nervous about my portrayal, so... I do hope that the people I write with might eventually begin to enjoy my portrayal of Ahri. ]

DO YOU FREQUENTLY WRITE HEADCANONS? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ I think of headcanons very often but I must say that I haven’t posted too much on this blog lately. Some of them got stolen, others got ignored and... That lowkey killed my motivation to openly post the ideas I have about my muse. This is however something that I plan on changing soon! ]

DO YOU SOMETIMES WRITE DRABBLES? YES / NO [ It depends on my inspiration or on the prompt I am given. ]

DO YOU THINK A LOT ABOUT YOUR MUSE DURING THE DAY? YES / NO

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR PORTRAYAL? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ Not really... I love my Ahri, I love the headcanons that I have developed for her and I adore the interactions that she has had during this time, but... I’m always scared of people’s bad judgement, of being seen as uninteresting or as not talented enough to portray such a complex character. ]

ARE YOU CONFIDENT IN YOUR WRITING? YES / NO / A LITTLE BIT. [ I believe that I can still improve, especially considering that my writing style is constantly changing. But I am not too sad about it! ]

ARE YOU A SENSITIVE PERSON? YES / NO. / SORTA.

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL? — As long as the criticism comes with the intent of helping me to improve my portrayal, then yes, I do accept it well because it would allow me to look at things from a different point of view and thus help me to realize in which fields I am currently lacking. Due to the fact that the LOL characters can be quite ‘loose’ when it comes to their canons (especially in the case of those who weren’t given much material to work with in the first place), I do believe that everyone can take quite a large amount of creative freedom when portraying them ; however, I do realize that some of my headcanons might sound weird to someone else and I have absolutely nothing against explaining my side of things, the reasons that have motivated me to make Ahri behave in a certain way instead of another. Criticism is always good, as long as it’s not accompanied by free hatred.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU TO EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER? — Absolutely yes! I love it when people come and ask for more information about Ahri or when I receive really curious anons about the most mundane aspects of her life.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? — Why not? I might not drop the headcanon since I’m still certain that I am the person who knows my muse the most but I’m not against discussing things with another person, especially if our points of view are really that different.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT? — I admit that I’d be sad over it since I’m well aware of how much passion and effort I am constantly pouring in my portrayal. However, that wouldn’t be the end of the world! There are so many beautiful Ahris out there who have taken a different path from me and thus developed their muses in a different manner, so I’d just suggest to the person to try and interact with them instead.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT? — Ah, you would be surprised to know how many people hate Ahri in the fandom! What saddens me is the fact that such hatred usually stems from really useless and dumb reasons, such as her being more famous than another champion or her receiving more skins than their fave... Even in the roleplay community, I sometimes encountered people who hated her simply because she was “too famous” and that really annoyed me because it’s groundless bashing with no roots to support it. However, I can understand why someone might dislike a character who’s so manipulative and dishonest! Obviously, I wish that people saw more than just this one side of her, but... We can’t have everything in life, sadly.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS? — Of course, as long as the person is not rude about it! I am Italian so English is my second language and grammatical errors can and will indeed happen.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN? — I think I am easy going although I am incredibly shy and this... This is a huge problem when it comes to interacting with others since it might take me a while to respond to messages and open up to someone else. This is a side of myself that I truly wish to change and I’m working really hard on abandoning my comfort zone, but... It takes time, a lot of time. However! Despite my shyness, I can assure you that I’m the softest person you will ever meet and that if you manage to make me feel comfy around you, I will not stop speaking about Ahri and about music and about videogames and anything else that we might have in common! Once I do grow close to someone, I love to talk and meme and share things and... I think I also become slightly clingy? But I always mean good, I swear... I’m just a shy bun who wants to have fun and love you :(

#.• ❤ ─ ▸ love CHANGING shape each day. ╱ ❪ ﹠ study 08 ─ hcs games ❫#:O #this was interesting to write

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

In Our Bedroom After The War

[Broadway Kids]

Prompt: “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

Word count: 2944

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

Tommy can’t quite remember when Carrie stopped speaking. Some people said it was in the third grade after she brought that Bible to school and started praying in the middle of lunch, others said after the Christian Youth Camp incident and she swallowed so much water that she “permanently clogged her vocal cords” or something stupid. Whatever happened, something had made Carrie White go silent, and she’s been a target of mockery since.

Deaf and dumb. That’s what the other kids liked to call her. But she isn’t deaf, Tommy knows, because she always reacts to what is said about her with great offense and pain, and she certainly isn’t dumb because Tommy has seen her grades when her report cards are stolen and passed around by bullies. She’s a smart girl, very smart. If anything, he was the dumb one, because the amount of times he’s almost given away their little get-togethers was unbelievable.

It started a month into the school year, he believed. He went into senior year, while Carrie just started high school. He can’t quite remember what caused them to start meeting up in the hidden bathroom under the staircase in the C hall stair well, and he’ll admit that he had never imagined himself hanging out with the city’s resident freak and actually enjoy it, but he would seriously miss their reclusive meetings every Friday after school if they were to ever stop.

Today in particular was very special. 1) because he was finally going to try and teach Carrie about video games (she was fourteen! she should at least know the basics like Pokemon and Mario!) and 2) he had noticed that Carrie seemed a little off the past week and he wanted to ask her about it.

When you saw someone like Carrie White, you would assume that she was constantly in a state of anxiety and depression, but Tommy has learned to pick up on little ticks she does over time. Like how lately, she’s been tugging on her hair and biting her knuckles more often, something she only does if something is really bothering her. Because of their social status in the high school hierarchy, he was never able to ask her if she was alright, so non verbal forms of communication would have to do until their weekly meetup.

There’s the way he tried to avoid letting her out of sight, and if it isn’t that, then it's the way they move around each other in natural synchronicity in the hallway, like celestial bodies that have been caught in orbit for millennia. It's the way he makes excuses to walk alone to class just to make sure she doesn’t get any trouble on the way to her own. It's the silent conversations, an inquisitive look (“You okay?”) answered by a minute nod (“All good.”). It’s everything he wishes he had done for her before his final year of high school.

He tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about how Carrie would soon be all alone again after he graduates. Tried not to think about what would happen to her when he isn’t there as her silent guardian. Tried not to think about how sad he would be without seeing her every day anymore.

Tommy slipped inside the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible to avoid alerting anyone who may have been lurking around, and turned to face the rest of the space. Carrie is sitting at the sink counter on one of two stools Tommy had smuggled in there for them. She turned her head to look at him sideways, but she’s still got her nose buried in a sketchbook, which she still hasn't let him look at. He wondered what she's drawing. Maybe it's a treasure map. Or a secret code. Or that deer they saw earlier. Or him.

“The party has arrived!” Tommy has announced, his voice rebounding loudly off of the silent bathroom walls. He dropped his backpack on the floor, unlike Carrie had done, as hers was hung up on one of the hooks on the wall.

Carrie finally put her pencil down and swiveled around completely in her stool to smile at him. She doesn’t show any teeth with her grin, and it’s slightly wry, but it’s a smile nonetheless and Tommy is honored to get such a thing from her. He examined her quickly, luckily finding no new wounds from bullying, then crossed over. She hastily closed her sketchbook.

“One day,” He said. “One day I will see your masterpiece.”

Carrie gave him an apologetic look, her smile becoming a little more tight. She grabbed a nearby whiteboard to write on, but stopped when Tommy waved a hand.

“No, no,” He said. “No need for that! I’ve been doing really well in my ASL class- you can sign to me!”

Carrie looked skeptical, but Tommy doesn’t miss the flash of excitement in her warm honey eyes. It’s not often that someone understands her when she uses sign language.

“Come on, I’m smarter than I look! Don’t doubt my abilities to learn a new language!”

Carrie nodded. She held up her hands, shaking down the frayed sleeves of her shirt, and began to sign.

“What (something) we (something) today?”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t AS fluent as he thought, but Carrie looked so much more comfortable being able to sign! He could just use his context clues!

“Something very fun!” Tommy assured her. He took out his phone and turned on a playlist that they’ve been progressively adding more and more songs to (with Carrie having to write hers down and give the list to him, seeing as she didn’t own any electronics). You can tell who added what like this: if it’s Christian related or something grungy-chill, Carrie probably added it; if it has folk music vibes and/or a lot of acoustic guitars, it was probably Tommy, surprisingly enough; if it just generally sounds like it’s ripped from an indie movie, it’s kind of a toss up.

He took out the Nintendo Switch he got last Christmas next and set it up on the sink counter. Carrie tilted her head at it as if it were a peculiar flower that had just sprouted out of the porcelain countertop.

“Ever played before?” Tommy asked, although he already knew the answer.

“No. (something) I’ve seen (something) (something).”

“You’ve seen it before?” Tommy repeated, guessing just by the way Carrie had pointed to her eyes.

Carrie nodded.

“Well, now you get to play it!” Tommy beamed at her and she smiled back, but it seems a little forced. Something is definitely on her mind- he’ll have to ask once she’s a little more relaxed. “Hmm… How about Minecraft?”

“M-I-N-E-C-R-A-F-T. I’ve heard (something) (something).”

“It’s fun!” Tommy assured her, selecting the game. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” He put the controllers in her hands and she rubs her thumbs over the rubber protectors. “So the main goal is surviving,” He went on. “There's a lot of objectives actually, but surviving is always the first one. Once you get used to it, you can play in Survival mode and start making a good base and start getting tools and armor and stuff, then you can move on to other objectives. But for now you can just play in Creative. What should we name the world?”

Carrie thought for a few moments, and Tommy could practically see all the random names cycling through her brain. After a moment, she signed, “(something)”

Tommy blinked.

“One more time.”

“(something)”

“Can you fingerspell it, please?”

“V-E-N-U-S.”

“Oh! Venus! We haven’t learned planets yet.” Tommy said. “Wait- Venus?”

“V-E-N-U-S (something) (something) (something) cool place (something) live.”

Tommy laughed. “Can’t argue with that logic!” He helped Carrie type in the name and clicked through a couple of other settings before hitting “create world”. Within a few moments the world was up and running. Carrie’s character was off in no time, exploring the blocky landscape and sifting through her colorful inventory, although her movements were sporadic and jerky since it was her first time playing.

Decorating the base was by far Carrie’s favorite part. There were so many different flowers for the outside and wood types for flooring and even COLORED glass. The only thing that would make it better was if you could have animals and OH MY GOODNESS YOU COULD HAVE ANIMALS!!!!!!!!

For a moment, Tommy debated just leaving Carrie there and allowing her to design the base and play around however she wanted, but he couldn't. He was so worried that someone may waltz in and see her in the boy’s bathroom and then do something to her. Carrie being nearly drowned in one of the toilets, Carrie getting her head smashed against the sink counter, Carrie being raped, Carrie getting beaten into a bloody pulp- so many horrible scenarios forced their way into his head. Carrie getting her throat slit, Carrie getting her body stuffed in the air vent, Carrie getting sodomized with a mop stick.

Why? Why were kids so cruel to her? Why couldn’t Tommy protect her from everything? Why does he know he can’t?

There was a soft touch on his hand and he jolted out of his thoughts. Carrie flinched away, too, then signed something he couldn’t understand, but knew she was asking if he was okay by the pinched expression on her face.

“I’m okay,” He assured her. “Just thinking.”

She made the gesture of “what” and tilted her head. Then she pointed to herself.

About me?

“Yeah,” Tommy admitted.

That made Carrie’s nose scrunch up in a giggle.

“Don’t (something) S-U-E know.”

“If you think that I would cheat on my girlfriend with a fish, then you are very much wrong.” Tommy said. “What about you? What’s been on your mind?”

Carrie put the Switch controllers down and shrugged her shoulders. She began to play with the cuff of her sleeve, not really making eye contact anymore.

“Come on,” Tommy urged. “You can tell me!”

“People,” Carrie signed vaguely.

“People?” Tommy echoed. “People being rude to you?”

Carrie shrugged again, and it was clear she didn’t really want to talk about this anymore, nor did she seem to be in a mood to continue playing. Tommy packed up the Nintendo Switch and paused their shared playlist. He gave Carrie her backpack and they started to walk out of the school in mutual silence.

“Sorry,” Tommy said as they neared the parking lot. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Carrie shook her head, then signed, “You didn’t. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Well if it isn’t praying Carrie!”

Carrie went rigid, like she had been struck by lightning. She stopped mid-step and didn’t move as a group of seniors trot over, their faces alight with mischief and cruelty.

“Ross!” One of them called. “What are you doing with this freak?”

“Is she holding you hostage?” Another guessed, casting a look at Carrie.

“I bet she’s leading him out to his car to force him to let her ride him.” A third said. The group howled with diseased laughter at that. Tommy is appalled. Carrie looked ill. “Is that it, church girl? The need for sex has finally broken into you and you’re ready to sin?”

“Back off!” Tommy growled, shoving the boy away. He put himself between him and Carrie, becoming a barricade of sorts. “Leave her alone.”

“I wonder how loud she’ll moan,” A fourth member of the group mused.

“Can she even moan?” The second wondered out loud.

“If you plowed into her hard enough I bet she’ll make some sort of sound.” The first said.

Carrie darted left and sprinted for the nearby line of trees edging the campus. Tommy glared at the group of seniors, then followed, concerned.

The darkness of the forest quickly closes around them. Carrie is fast on her feet, but Tommy was an athlete and he caught up quickly. He snagged the back of her jacket in a loose grip. They stumbled together over uneven ground and exposed tree roots until Carrie collapsed in a hollow between two moss-covered rocks. Tommy slotted himself in front of her so that she’s shielded from all sides- the rocks and Tommy forming a barrier from the world.

He said nothing. He listened to the girl’s gasping breaths and knew that it’s nothing that words can cure- not anymore. Not after years of having no one, being stabbed in the back and spoon fed lies. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the rustling of oak leaves, the distant calls of birds, the persistent harmony of crickets.

He wondered what Carrie used to ground herself.

He wondered if she grounded herself at all.

Slowly, softly, Carrie calmed to some degree. It comes faster than Tommy expected, but he assumed that’s just because she’s grown used to the treatment she gets. She shifted, wiggling her shoes beneath Tommy’s thigh. Tommy doesn’t shift. He won’t leave until she does.

“It’s okay,” He finally whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Carrie whimpered and made a sloppy gesture- Why?

“Because I care about you.” Tommy said. “Fuck what they think. I respect you and if they don’t, I’ll break their knees.”

He wanted to make her laugh or smile or at least stop crying, but Carrie just whimpered again. She swiveled around to face him, eyes flashing with tears.

“Why?” She signed again, sniffling miserably.

“We’re friends.” Tommy told her. “You know that, don’t you?” The look he got said that she didn’t believe it. “Come on. Tell me some things you know about me. You’d be surprised how well you know me.”

Carrie hesitated, then began to sign, “Your name is Tommy Ross.” She winced at how bland it was, but Tommy only nodded, brushing a bit of his dark brown hair out of his eyes. Carrie’s face scrunched up like she’s memorizing her timestaple in front of him, struggling to bring that gridded mess of numbers to mind.

“You’re the tallest (something) (something) everyone (something) your team,” She continued. The sky overhead is eye-wateringly blue, with crisply white cotton clouds scudding along the horizon. A light breeze shakes the leaves of a nearby oak tree that has the initials of some high school sweethearts carved into the base of its trunk. They’re a little crooked from where someone’s hand had slipped, the flat of a switchblade arcing a little too close to the bark, and making a J thicker, almost a U when you looked at it dead on.

“That’s right,” Tommy said. He knows his role here is only background noise. That’s his job, whether Carrie knows it or not, and he’s more than happy to fulfill it. He doesn’t mind being subject to the scrutiny of befriending ol’ praying Carrie because of it. Not if it’s what she needs to feel better.

“Your eyes (something) like a (something) green-brown, (something) (something) like slimy algae. You always have (something) stupid red sports jacket on. Your sneakers (something) (something) white, once upon a time.” She managed to tease him, uttering out a tiny giggle.

“What can I say, Carrie, I’m a filthy gremlin, like all boys are-” He joked, and she swatted him lightly on the arm. She bit back a laugh, and Tommy wished that she wouldn’t- Carrie tips her head back when she laughs, unabashed and on the edge of hysterical, giggling and snorting, shoulders shaking with mirth until she’s brought her gaze back down again, cheeks flushed from the exertion of being host to that much joy despite everything that she’s been through. No one holds the weight of trauma and mistreatment as heavily on their shoulders as Carrie White does- Carrieta, the library to all of those scattered instances of would-be’s-could-be’s-shouldn’t-be’s. And still, there is a smidge joy. It’s beautiful. He thought that she’s most beautiful when she’s laughing (don’t tell Sue, and if you do, make sure you let her know it’s completely platonic. but just don’t tell her at all).

“You have, like, (something) favorite red shirt, with a light brown hood on it. And S-U-E thinks it’s hideous.” Carrie continued. She’s tapping her foot against his leg, a gentle soothing gesture, and he lets her. He knew that it’s more for herself than him.

“You have a golden ring (something) onto a necklace.” Carrie signed. “But you don’t wear it (something) you think it (something) you look silly. But it’s really pretty.” Pause, and when she signed again, it wasn't about the necklace anymore. “It’s (something) (something) like having a sibling.” Pause. Carrie looked up at him with glittering eyes. “You’re Tommy Ross.”

The weight that she placed on his name makes his heart stutter, catching in his chest- the warmth that he felt towards her is almost unbearable, and he found himself grinning, mouth gone crooked in the gesture.

“I’m Tommy Ross, that’s right,” He repeated to her, as if they’re introducing themselves at some shitty college icebreaker. “And I’m not going anywhere, Carrie.” He went on, a touch of urgency in his voice- and she smiles, eyes closing, though hers are more reserved than his, somehow. There’s a tear bright in the corner of her right eye, and it traced a thin path down her face. More come. They pool at her chin, dripping off of her face, and soaking into the softness of the earth. His chest ached.

“And you’re not going anywhere,” She whispered, voice hitching a little halfway through. He swiped a thumb over her cheek, flicked the tear off into the green grass behind them.

“I’m not,” He promised. “I’m not leaving you, Carrie.” And his voice had gone soft, her name cradled gently in his mouth, like he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

#it hurts because carrie kills tommy in the musical #dont tag as ship or I WILL pee in your sink #carrie #carrie the musical #broadway kids carrie #carrie white #tommy ross #carrie fanfiction #my writing

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jellydishes · 4 years

Text

i was tagged for wip wednesday by @enby-hawke, amd i'm tagging @well-this-is-hawkeward, @persephonechiara, @askweisswolf, @connorguerrin, and @igpitn

i had to go digging for a story i haven't used for one of these recently, and i found this old dragon age story:

One year and an entire ocean away from the blight, and Aednat Surana was discovering to her displeasure that the life of a deserter from the grey wardens was nowhere near what the stories had made it out to be. She was not half so brooding or attractive as the deserters always were in those tales for instance, which she was given to understand was a requirement, and the number of bounty hunters sent after her was somewhere between one and zero. The precise number was unimportant. What was important was that it was nearly impossible to get properly drunk with a warden's constitution. She had already known that, but knowing it and being unable to wash away persistent nightmares with cheap ale were so different as to not even be on speaking terms.

She frowned down at her mug. It was leather, and hers, with a strap to tie it to her belt. Usually she was quite fond of this mug, as it had been a gift from Oghren when he had quit drinking, but right now it was betraying her. It held far too little ale in it, and she had no more money with which to buy more. "Say," she said with a winning smile at the bartender, "did I ever tell you about the time I saved your life?"

"My life? Really,” he said with, she thought, unreasonably drawn out syllables. "Do tell."

"Well, I'm not one to save and tell, but it involves ravenous hordes and your being so grateful that you give me that bottle in your hand."

The bartender scoffed. "The only hordes I know about were driven back underground by the Hero of Fereldan a year ago," he said as he very deliberately stowed the bottle back into its place above the bar. "And you have to get up a lot earlier -or a lot later- in the day for me to be that grateful."

"Well," Aednat said thoughtfully, earning her a considering look until she finished with, "what if I said I knew the Hero personally? That she called me one of her very best friends, who deserves, no, is entitled, to that bottle of mysterious liquid?"

"I'd call you a liar," he said, but was laughing, which was more than could be said for Aednat. She'd opened her mouth in preparation for a truly stunning joke when she spotted a woman out of the corner of her eye, musclebound and bristling with weapons. She made it a point to be aware of what such people were up to, seeing as it often involved moving said weapons towards her face far too often for comfort, and sighed when her instincts were proven right as the woman slowed to a stop when her eyes fell upon Aednat. Aednat could almost visibly see the wheels turning in her head, and allowed her shoulders to slump as she leaned back on the bar. If she just so happened to allow one hand to settle upon the twisted end of a glaive she had adapted as a staff, well, that was her business.

The woman stopped short of her, which was nice, and did not immediately go for her sword, which was nicer. "I find myself in need of a grey warden," the woman said, all stiffness and clipped words, and Aednat tilted her head to peer at her. She had the distinctive accent of a Ferelden just off the boat. Dressed like it, too, with more than her fair share of furs and leather. Not that Aednat was complaining, mind, but it certainly did mark the woman out, as did other things.

"What do you want my help for? Anybody in Kirkwall will tell you I'm an impostor, you can ask anyone. Isn't that right?" Aednat asked, twisting to look at the men at the table beside her, who grinned. They were well familiar with her stories by now, which changed every time you asked her. Sometimes she had won her armor in a game of strip poker, sometimes she had stolen it from a warden taking a bath. Everyone generally agreed, however, that she was a harmless fool. Compared to some of the other things humans could assume about a wandering elf with dalish markings, she was more than happy to go with that.

"Oh yes," the first said, chortling into his beer. "Last time I heard she made it herself out of salad forks and spit."

"That's not true!" The second man said excitedly, near tripping over himself to say, "I heard she's a player! That she toured all over Orlais and Antiva, but the last play she was in ended in tragedy, and she has refused to break character ever sin-"

"Look!" The Ferelden snapped impatiently, cutting the man off with a slice of her hand. "That doesn't matter. Are you a warden, or not?"

"You'd be better off going to meet the one in the sewers," Aednat said gently. "I think he can help with a few other things, too."

"Such as." It wasn't a question.

"Well, he's a healer." Aednat was smiling, flashing her lone dimple. "Seems only natural he could help remove that stick up your a-"

"Enough!" The Ferelden woman was flushed, which was a pretty look for her, as was the sight of that lovely square jaw tensing. "I will not stand here and be mocked like this."

"Then sit down," Aednat smiled. "I'll even be generous and allow you to pay for the next round."

The Ferelden sputtered and turned on her heel to stalk out, which Aednat watched with interest, and not just for the obvious reason. The mention of needing a warden had of course gotten her attention. The man Anders was rumored to be more than competent, she knew, but there was no substitute for doing things yourself.

#aednat surana #dragon age #sometimes i write

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Note

Starker - “You may have stolen my sweater, but I learned to buy doubles.”

do the thing - send a number and i’ll write a little ficlet

I thought a little domestic Starker would be nice for this one, hope you enjoy!

word count: ~1400

The best part of dating Peter came from getting to know the man for who he was – all the little intricacies that built up his character and personality. Which, now that Tony’s aware of a lot of them, there were many. All of them cute in their own way – some of them more annoying than others, but each one compiled together to make the beautiful person that was Peter Parker. In all the time he’d been alive, Tony never made the effort to get to know somebody like that, taking them apart little by little. It deepened the connection, his entire being understood that now.

The thing Tony found the most endearing was Peter’s affinity for stealing his clothes. It took him a while to notice the t-shirts that were missing, or the sweatpants he’d been sleeping in for a week suddenly disappearing. He figured those things got lost at the cleaners or fell behind one of the many things scattered around his bedroom. It didn’t occur to him that Peter might have them – that, guiltily, the younger man was starting to hoard things that Tony liked to wear more frequently.

Walking into the lab, Tony immediately got where all the missing things were – Peter had his favorite AC-DC shirt slung across his shoulders, the dull fabric making it almost see-through on the sculpted torso. “Is that my shirt?” Tony asked, his eyebrows quirked, realization dawning on him in droves. No fucking wonder things disappeared when Peter spent the night – no fucking wonder.

The redness of Peter’s cheeks felt like answer enough – Tony walked over to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, a hand slipping across the fabric of the shirt on his boyfriend’s stomach. “It looks good,” he muttered, his lips skipping across Peter’s ear as he spoke. He held him with one arm for a second longer before stepping back and heading over to his own desk.

There were modifications he needed to make to his flight boots.

The longer they were together, the more it seemed like Peter wore Tony’s clothes more often than his own – during the colder nights in New York, he wrapped himself in the MIT sweater that’d been in his closet since college. Tony’s sweatpants sat low on Peter’s hips and it was both sexy and endearing – the other obviously got something from being wrapped around the clothes that touched Tony’s body beforehand.

Every so often, Peter would leave some of the clothes behind. Tony would always pick them up and put them back into his own rotation. It was a nice little cycle between them. Whatever attracted Peter to it, Tony didn’t mind playing along. After a while, it felt like a game – whenever someone would comment on Peter wearing it or compliment it, Tony felt a little giddy on the inside, his own liking of the situation coming the more it happened.

There was something about seeing his clothes on Peter’s back that fueled the fire. It felt like silent ownership – like they were claiming each other in front of the others without actually coming out and saying shit out loud. Tony was more than positive everyone knew – they weren’t the sneakiest when it came to going back and forth between each other’s rooms.

Despite their obviousness, it felt good to keep things unspoken – like if they didn’t say it, things could stay just between them for a little while longer. And for Tony, having something that was just his was novel – he didn’t get to do things without people commenting from all directions. The only people that were even remotely privy to the fact enjoyed their privacy just as much as Tony did his – so they respected it.

No rush meant letting things happen naturally, on their own time – the exact way they should.

After a year of being together, both Tony and Peter both were getting a little antsy to start getting out and about – even if that meant getting some media attention from it. They were able to juggle the anxiety and angst that came along with being a superhero and still maintain a relationship that wasn’t revolved around alter-egos and superpowers. Tony wanted Peter to establish himself as his own person before they revealed anything about a relationship between himself and the younger man.

The last thing Tony wanted was for anything negative to ever be thought about his other half – Peter was smart, capable, and way more than anything Tony could give him. Tony felt lucky he got to come along for the ride. He knew that the glaring age gap and Peter’s position within his own company would already be questioned, it needed to be clear that integrity was the most important thing for the both of them.

Peter didn’t want to make his life revolve around being Spider-Man – and he was too intelligent to not contribute to the rest of the world. Tony wasn’t going to let anything stop that.

It’d been a particularly difficult patrol, Cap and Bucky were both a little worse for the wear – the simple fact that they were enhanced the only reason they weren’t completely debilitated. Peter narrowly missed that very same fate and Tony felt himself yearning to be able to hug the young man, hold him close and remind them both that they were safe – that the mission was over, and things were back to normal once more. Instead, he brushed a hand along the small of his back and retreated to his room – an eagerness to get out of his battle torn clothes more overwhelming than anything else.

Stepping into the shower, Tony closed his eyes and let everything wash away – the anxiety of almost losing teammates, the closeness of Peter joining their comrades in injury – all of it. It was the only way to juggle being so far in the shit and so close to another person in that same position. Every time they went out, their lives were at stake – losing the most important person in the world could happen at any time, in any of the moments where they selflessly protected the world.

He toweled off and settled into one of the sweaters he picked up off the floor, the warmth of it surrounding him in the way he needed the most. Running the towel through his hair, Tony went back out into the fray – though, the common area was surprisingly empty. A soft breath slipped from his lips when he settled into the comfort of the couch cushions – a true feeling of relaxation surrounding him for the first time all day.

Cap sat down on the other side of the couch a little while later, his head lulling against the back of the sofa. His eyes bugged a little bit, a confused look washing over his face. “I just saw Peter in that sweater,” Steve remarked, his words magically summoning the other man.

Peter walked into the room, a soft smile on his face. His face lightened even further when he saw Tony, though – the size of his eyes grew like Cap’s, Peter’s cheeks coloring instantly.

“Told you,” Steve muttered, his eyes moving back and forth between them. Like a key switching the tumblers of a lock, genuine realization washed over the man’s face. A smile slipped from ear to ear.

“I took this from you last week,” Peter started, his hands thrusting into the pocket on the front of the sweater.

“You may have stolen my sweater, but I learned to buy doubles.” Tony remarked simply, letting the words roll off his tongue. He didn’t blink an eye when the words confirmed what he knew Cap confirmed just seconds before.

The blonde man jumped up off the couch, his hand thrusting into the air in excitement. “I told you all!” Steve exclaimed, his feet echoing as he took off down the hall.

Tony met Peter’s gaze and gestured him over, the younger man moving quickly until he was nestled into the older man’s side.

“Well, that’s one way to tell everyone, I guess,” Peter muttered into the skin of his neck, lips trailing after the words.

Chuckling, Tony pulled Peter further into his embrace, his arms tight around him. “The only way, probably. I’m not mad about it.”

#starker #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #sharing clothes au #canon divergence #au #bobbie writes

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in-arlathan · 4 years

Text

These Stolen Moments

More Solavellan fanfiction, yeah! <3 ______

Time period: During DA:I Characters: Female Lavellan (Elenara Lavellan), Solas, Leliana Pairing: Solavellan Chapters: 1/1, Length: 2,971 words Rating: PG-13, Teen And Up Audiences

Summary: One night at Skyhold, Lavellan finds herself unable to rest. Trying to find peace in the Inquisition library, Solas seeks her out to offer some comfort.

A/N: Like many Solasmancers, I thought the relationship between him and Lavellan deserved at least one more cut scene. But since the game didn’t give us that I spun my own little fantasy and transformed it into fanficition. It’s much more romantic than the stuff I usually write, but it made me happy so I wrote it anyway. I hope you enjoy it. <3

You can also read this on AO3.

______

The castle was quiet at last. She couldn’t recall the last time things at Skyhold had been so peaceful. Ever since the Inquisition had taken refuge in the old edifice, the courtyard and corridors had been bustling with people. Even the gardens, a place dedicated to silent contemplation, was filled with an on-going hum of conversations and prayers.

Elenara stood in the door that led her quarters in the Inquisitor’s tower and breathed a sigh of relief. She had grown so accustomed to the noise that she almost forgot the comfort of silence.

In her youth she would often steal away from the camp of her clan to seek out the quiet places in the forest. She would look for clearings or a patch of grass by a water course where she would lay down and stare up at the lush canopy and the bright blue sky beyond. In these moments, she felt the vastness of the world that made her sorrows seem small and petty by contrast. She would close her eyes and just listen to the rustling of leaves or the distant songs of birds and allow herself to just be.

How much simpler life had been back then.

Elenara readjusted the stack of books she carried with her and began walking down the great hall.

Once, she had listened to the voices of nature. Now, all she could hear was the sharp metal shriek of blades, the commands bellowed by Cullen and his officers, the battle cries of thousands upon thousands of Inquisition soldiers. And the prayers, of course. More prayers than she had ever heard before. Even at night she could hear the faithful calling out to her. Not much else seemed to exist, but the crushing burden their words carried to her.

So, she was glad for these rare moments of silence. She enjoyed the soft hissing of wind slipping down the hall, as well as the crackling of dying flames in the fireplaces.

She reached the door on her left that led to Skyhold’s rotunda and opened it. The circular room beyond was dark, just like the rest of the castle, and a pang of disappointment hit her. A small part of her had wished Solas would be awake, still working on his mural, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It’s alright, she told herself. You’ll see him tomorrow.

At least she hoped she would. Her entire relationship with Solas – if one wished to call it so – had been a constant back and forth between them. First, she had kissed him, but felt like she messed up. When she tried to withdraw from him, he held back and kissed her in return. Much later, he would come to her, admitting to having not forgotten what had happened between them, just to walk away from her. But not until they had kissed once more and he had said the words that turned her world upside down completely.

Ar lath, ma vhenan.

Her heart skipped a beat every time she remembered this moment. She was not certain if Solas had spoken in Elvish on purpose to conceal the meaning behind his words, or if he did it because he knew she would understand. Either way, she was very much aware of the meaning behind his words.

I love you.

Elenara felt her throat go tight. Solas was a mystery to her, one she would gladly like to figure out. But it would take time and if there was one thing she didn’t have in abundance, it was just that. For now, all she knew was that, if he’d stayed but a moment longer with her on that balcony, she’d told him how much she loved him in return.

You can wonder about this some other time, she thought, chiding herself like a child. Concentrate on what lies before you.

Letting out a sight, she crossed the room and slipped through the door to her left. Her steps echoed on the stone walls as she climbed the stairs to the rotunda’s upper floor.

The library was silent as well and the candles had been put out a good long while ago. Luckily, she knew where Helisma kept the flintstone she used to light them.

Elenara placed the stack of books on the chair Dorian usually occupied during his studies in the library and hurried over to the researcher’s desk. With only soft streaks of moonlight to illuminate the room, she had to fumble around before she found what she was looking for. With the flintstone in hand, she returned to Dorian’s reading nook and lit the candles on one of the candelabras. Their golden glow was soft and subtle, but it was enough to help her read the titles.

She turned to the pile of books and picked the one on top. It was a massive tome with golden letters ingrained on its cover and spine, an old Tevinter text Dorian had recommended to her to help her understand the inner workings of his homeland. The writing was so dry and tiresome, it had taken her ages to get through the text, but it had provided some insight into the cultural shift from the worshipping of the Old Gods to the Chantry, and that was good enough for her.

Scanning the spines, Elenara searched for the spot where the book was kept on the shelves. Thanks to Dorian, all of the books at Skyhold were sorted in alphabetical order which made the task of returning them to the library much easier. When she found the gap on one of the shelves where the Tevinter tome used to be, she put it back and returned to the rest of her stack.

She had just grabbed another book when she heard something. For a second, she believed it was a soldier or a servant walking from the tavern across the courtyard, but she dismissed the idea quickly. The sound had been much closer and much softer, not like the heavy cluck of booted feet.

“I see you are still awake,” someone said.

She whirled around on instinct, her senses on alert, her body ready to fight. Only then did she recognize the elven figure that moved closer from the other side of the library.

“Solas!”, she exclaimed and let out a sigh of relief. “Good Creators, you startled me!”

He chuckled softly as he stepped into the circle of soft candle light. The golden glow covered his face with stark shadows. “I’m sorry, vhenan,” he said wringing his hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

She let out a long, shuddering breath.

“It’s alright,” she told him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Where did you come from? I thought you’d already gone to bed.”

“I was out on the balcony for some fresh air,” he said gesturing towards the door through which he’d entered the library. “Then I heard footsteps and concluded that it was you, so I came to see if you’re alright.”

“You knew that it was me … by my footsteps?” she asked, baffled.

“Of course.” He said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just… something a hunter might do, not a mage.”

“You should never underestimate my tracking skills, vhenan.” A sly smile tugged at his lips. “I survived on my own in the wilderness for a good long while, after all.”

For a moment, he seemed incredibly young. It made her think about a conversation she’d overheard back at the Storm Coast. She and the rest of her party had been tracking down a group of red templars that sought to gain a foothold in the area, when Blackwall and Solas had started to exchange war stories. She remembered the Grey Warden being delighted to share his experiences with another soldier, and also rather perplexed.

“For all your experience, Solas,” Blackwall had said. “You don’t carry yourself like a soldier.”

And Solas had beamed at the elder man. “Oh, you should have seen me when I was younger. Hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight.”

She’d never admitted to Solas that she, too, had had trouble picturing him as a warrior in full armor. But now … with this smile …

It made her want to kiss him, badly.

“Why are you still awake?”, she asked quickly.

“There was something wrong with the tea”, he replied and pressed his lips together for a moment. “It was caffeinated and kept me awake long after dark. Well, keeps me awake”, he clarified and looked around the empty library. “I am still waiting for the effect to wear off.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said and gave him a warm and soothing smile. She knew Solas found comfort in the Fade just like she used to find comfort in the old tales and legends of her people. Without it, life was much harder to endure.

“What about you?” he asked, looking at her intently.

She weighed the book in her hand and hurried to place it back on the shelves. “Couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted and was surprised by how tired she sounded. “There is just… so much to think about…”

Solas took another step towards her. Before she knew it, he reached around her with his left hand and placed it on her lower back. The faint smell of his skin lingered between them. Her heart jumped into her throat. Suddenly, she was very aware of his presence.

“If you like to share your thoughts with me, I’d be happy to listen,” he said in a quiet voice.

She coughed and looked away to avoid his gaze. His eyes were filled with such longing that it was almost too much to bare.

Studying the tomes on the shelf beside her, she said: “I’ve been reading all lot of these books lately. I had hoped to find some answers in the old text, but all it did was made me think. How can anyone do justice to this world? How can you set everything right, seeing all the bad things happening to good people?”

She sighed. “How am I supposed to do all this?” she asked in a much lower voice. Her throat went tight with grief and the crushing feeling of responsibility.

A saturnine look crossed his face. “I don’t know if I can provide a satisfying answer to your questions,” he said. “I’m not sure if anyone can. All we can do is trust in your capabilities to lead this Inquisition, for better or worse.”

Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “I was afraid you might say that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking more troubled than she had ever seen him.

“Don’t be,” she replied. “It’s not like any of this is your fault.”

His hand on her back twitched ever so slightly, but she noticed it anyway. These days, she seemed to notice everything about him. The slight changes in his moods, the way he carried himself when he thought no one was looking. Even the expression of serene joy and delight when he was working on his mural. He was a miracle with a thousand little details and she wanted to know each and every one of them.

“Is there something on your mind?”, she asked. “You seemed to be on edge these last couple of weeks.”

That must be the biggest understatement in all of history, she thought to herself. Solas was always on edge, especially when he was alone with her.

“It is nothing to concern yourself with,” he said evasively and his gaze flicked to her lips. “My troubles will pass, one way or another.”

“Is there anything I can do to lift your spirits?” she asked teasingly.

“A kiss might be a good way to start,” he admitted after a short silence.

Elenara raised her eyebrows in surprise. Did she hear that correctly?

“Come here, then,” she said softly and turned until they stood face to face. Her heartbeat quickened, as she placed a hand on his cheek. He let his hand slip from her back to her waist, bringing up the other one to hold her tightly.

“It would be kinder in the long run,” he’d said the last time they kissed. Since then, his words had made her wonder what he truly meant. She knew there was something between them, he had admitted it himself. Yet, he was determined to not give in to his feelings for her. But why?

Was it because she was Dalish, still?

Back in Haven, he had confessed to her that the Dalish had attacked him on sight and that he had no desire to get in touch with the clans any longer. His words had caught her like a kick to the stomach. Though it had not been her own clan who had attacked Solas, she knew it might has well have been them. She herself had fought off countless bandits in her time as a hunter.

Yet, she knew that the clans were only protecting themselves and more often than not, they had good reasons to be suspicious of strangers. But the thought of Solas being wounded by a Dalish arrow had left her feeling guilty and distressed. She wanted him to see the many admirable attributes of her people in the faint hope it would make him feel less lonely. To show him that there was no reason to be afraid of them.

Of her.

“My heart,” she breathed, caressing his lips with her thumb. She smiled at him, then guided his face towards hers. He allowed Elenara to brush her lips against his, while he drew long breaths through his nose. And she drank from him, relishing the taste of his mouth.

When she was out of breath, she pulled back ever so slightly, resting her forehead against his. Letting out a quiet satisfied moan, she let her hands slide down to his chest. He was breathing just as heavily as she was. His chest heaved under her touch.

“I enjoy kissing you far too much,” he said with a soft smile. His breath smelled of honey and herbs, sweet and delightful.

Elenara tilted her head to look at him. Was that regret in his voice?

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

His cheeks colored. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” he hurried to say. “It’s just... I’m not …”

“… used to it,” she said, finishing the sentence for him. “I know. We should do this more often, then.” She let her lips touch his once more. It was not a kiss, not quite, but it set her body on fire nonetheless. “Besides, I enjoy kissing you, too.”

She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His body tensed and for a moment it seemed like he wanted to flee from her, but when she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, he finally relaxed. Accepting the invitation, his lips parted and his tongue entered her mouth.

There was the passion she’d first experienced back in their shared dream in the Fade. It washed over her like a rising tide, almost sweeping her off her feet. She returned his kisses with the same fire, losing herself in the embrace. She couldn’t tell if his hunger was greater than hers or if it was the other way around. All she knew was that they both wanted more, fully aware of the fact that no kiss would never be enough.

“I want you,” he whispered.

His body was radiating heat like a bonfire. She wanted to take it all in, even if she might get burned in the process. All her life, she had waited to meet someone like him. Someone that made her feel alive.

“I want you, too,” she said and kissed one corner of his mouth. He sighed softly, his eyes half-closed. It was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard in her entire life – and she wanted more of it.

With the greatest effort, she let go of him.

Elenara took his hands and squeezed them gently. “Come with me,” she said, nodding in the vague direction of the Inquisitor’s tower. Up there, in her chambers, they could continue what they had started in a more private setting.

“I don’t think…”

“Lady Inquisitor!”

She flinched.

That was Leliana’s voice!

In an instant, Solas parted from her and took a step back. The lack of his warmth right next to her hurt more than she would like to admit. “Don’t…” she gasped, but Solas simply shook his head.

“You have other matters to attend to.”

She knew he was right. If Leliana needed to speak to her at this hour of the night, it must be important. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

She only hoped her face didn’t look as warm as it felt.

“Goodnight, Inquisitor,” Solas said in a casual tone and took another step back. He bowed ever so slightly just when Leliana reached the top of the stairs. The spymaster stopped dead in her tracks and watched as the elven apostate turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

Elenara felt like her heart would tear apart at any moment, when she forced herself to look at Leliana. “How can I help you?”

Leliana stared, as if she had forgotten, why she wanted to speak to Elenara in the first place. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway through which Solas had made his exit.

“Leliana?”

The spymaster blinked, her focus returning to Elenara.

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry” she said and squared her shoulders. “I have news from Halamshiral, my lady. You should look into this.”

Right back in the mess, Elenara thought as she followed Leliana up the stairs to her office.

__________

Thanks for reading. <3

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #solas #lavellan #female lavellan #solavellan #in relationship #solas romance #fluff #mild hurt/comfort #elenara lavellan

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thesirgonian · 4 years

Text

Star Wars 5e Character Backstory: Chimera

It’s long so I’ve put it under a read more. Also, no peaking, J. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise if Chimera does eventually get into the game, would we?

Nine years, ten months, three weeks, and five days, that is how long that bastard kept me hostage and tortured me. Nearly a damn decade of my life stolen from me by the man who forced me to call him "Father" and took my own name away from me. But I'm getting ahead of myself in this little story, aren't I? Let's go back a bit, to where this story starts and my life changes forever. I was but seven years old, an orphaned urchin on the streets of some outer-rim shithole nobody from off world could even be bothered to learn the name of. Never knew my parents, never much cared to know them either; like most urchins there, I was raised by the older children, we took care of each other. That was until one day when I was out on the streets scavenging for any food or trinkets I could find and I met him. A hunched over man in a tattered robe, looking frail enough that a stiff breeze could knock him over, everything I'd learned from the older children marked him as a prime target for pick-pocketing. It wasn't until I sneaked behind him and got a hand close enough to one of the pouches on his belt that I would come to regret my poor judgement in mark-picking. He whipped around, one hand shooting out from under his robe and I remember thinking how much stronger his grip was than I expected for someone in his shape. That thought was then quickly interrupted by a hard hit to my face and a fade to black. When I eventually came to, I was alone in a dank, dilapidated, prison cell of a room that seemed like the only thing keeping it from collapsing in on itself was the will of the Force alone. My sorry accommodations lacked windows or any sort of natural light, being only dimly lit by a handful of lights along the room's walls that occasionally flickered off and on again. Not that there was much to look at in my new room anyway, there was a musty blanket tossed on a bed of grass, a small table so worn that putting any weight on it had it threatening to fall apart, and a single wooden chair that was only marginally more comfortable than sitting on the ground. I was left alone in this room for several hours, I gave up on finding a way out after what must have been nearly two and a half hours, my voice gave out from the yelling shortly after that. Eventually, I was greeted by my captor standing at the barred door to the room. I was ordered to pick up the chair, take it to the middle of the room, and sit down. I was young, tired, and scared, I did as I was instructed. The man entered the room and locked the door behind him and then informed me of the rules that would come to define the next decade of my life. He told me that I was to call him "Father" and that I was now "Son", any attempt to speak my old name would be met with punishment, a threat I would come to learn was very real. He went on to explain that my purpose here, the reason he kidnapped me, was so that he could practice his "craft", "gene splicing", he called it. Of course, I was just a kid, that meant nothing to me and I had no idea what I was in for in these experiments. I was told that he would raise me from now on, teach me to read, write, and expand my mind; and that if I was good, I would be rewarded with books. If I was bad? Well, second verse same as the first, punishment was doled out for causing trouble or disobeying him. It was about then that I attempted to stand up from my chair to run. Where? Who knows, the door was locked after all, but I didn't even make it that far. He was quick, two hands on my shoulders and back down into my seat I went, unable to squirm free from his grasp. And then I learned how severe his punishments could be. I was beaten and after I was too sore to stand up, he made his exit from the room. Over the course of my stay, I would come to learn these rules and others by heart, and how to play by them, my life depended on it. The next several years of my life would be filled with beatings, sometimes not because I disobeyed, but out of frustration with me and his work. When there were no beatings, there were the experiments. He would have my sit down in the chair, come in, cuff my hands, and then lead me to the lab where he did all his work. I was strapped down to a table and poked, prodded, cut, sliced, injected, and spliced for upwards of several hours at a time. It was several years into my stay with him until he finally made some actual progress in his work and my first mutations began to manifest. When there were no beatings or experiments, there was learning. He taught me how to write, but never allowed me to use it to express myself or tell stories. He taught me to read, but the only books I was ever given were dry dissertations, theories, academic journals, and formulas. I was given nothing that would allow me to fantasize about the outside world or provoke any kind of wonder or entertainment. A book contained a passage about a planet, once, I made the mistake of asking questions about it and he took the book from me and more carefully vetted the works I would be allowed to read from then on. On occasion, he would have me set up the table in the middle of the room, bring in a second chair for himself, and set up a game of holochess or Cubikahd; though I am convinced this was more for his own amusement than mine. Perhaps these games helped assuage his own boredom, perhaps he simply enjoyed having another way to exert his power and superiority over me, or perhaps he genuinely enjoyed teaching me these games. It very well may have been a combination of the three, but after years of playing and losing to him, I started to get good, real good. Good enough to eventually even beat him in a game. The first time I bested him was in a game of Cubikahd, the look on his face was of pure confusion and I'll never forget it. The next look on his face I'll never forget either, I must have looked a bit too proud of myself for having finally managed a win, and his face twisted from confusion to anger; he threw the table aside and gave me what is still one of the most severe beatings I ever received from him. After that, on the much more rare occasion he would play me in a game, if I showed any signs of potentially winning, he would end the match early and leave my cell. The next round of experimentation would always be particularly painful after that. Once the old man realized I was finally starting to get the better of him in holochess and Cubikahd, I guess he had to find a new way to entertain himself with me. One day he came into my cell with an instrument, "It's called a viola" he told me, "and I would like for you to learn to play it." Now, I didn't know the first thing about playing any instrument and I tried telling him that, but he insisted on it, and assured me that I would be able to pick it up "in no time". And I've got to tell you, for the first three or four months, me trying to play that thing sounded like a tauntaun wrecking itself, but he sat in a chair outside my cell and listened to every second of it. After a few hours of that, he would tell me to stop and then come in to retrieve the instrument. However this was purely for his benefit, I was only allowed to play on his time and only what he wanted me to play, he never left me alone with that thing to play how I wanted. Between you and me though, I've gotta say, after those first few months of sounding like a dying cat, I got pretty good with it; I only wish I could've taken the thing with me when I finally got out of there. I was seventeen now, closing in on nearly a decade with that monster when he cuffed me and brought me in for experiments again, a routine I had grown all too used to; but this time he was going on and on to himself about how this round was going to be "revolutionary" and a "breakthrough" in his work. The anesthesia hits, I faded out, and a while later, I faded back in, only this time I'm not in my cell like I usually was when I woke up. This time, I'm still on the table and his back is turned, cleaning up the lab. My head was absolutely pounding and I felt... something; I had never felt anything like it before. Almost instinctively, I glanced at the bindings on my wrists and ankles and they seemed to just, pop open. The sound must have grabbed his attention because he spun around from his work; like a cornered animal I was already on my feet and trying to back up towards the door. His hand was up and he was trying to slowly inch his way towards me, talking to me like I was a lost puppy... he had something behind his back. As soon as I noticed his other arm behind his back, before I barely even had time to process what I was going to do, I threw my arm up and flung it wide, suddenly the "good" doctor goes flying across the room and slams into a wall. Without any more thought, I bolted. I could hear him yelling, calling out to me from where I left him in the lab, but I didn't care, my legs weren't going to stop now. Somehow, despite having never explored this labyrinth of a building, I managed to find my way out, like something had been guiding me. Of course, now I know it turns out the dumb bastard had tried splicing me with some force sensitive species of animal, only it worked better than he could have ever imagined. At the time though, I had no idea what could be going on, I'd just flung a man across a room with a thought. There were those new instincts again though, telling me to keep running and it what direction. I eventually found myself face to face with an actual settlement of not-insane people, I'm saved, right? Dead wrong. The minute I set foot in that place, people were screaming and running while I was just trying to explain myself and ask for help. It wasn't a minute of that before a blaster bolt nearly took my head off, a dozen or so people all armed with rifles all stormed out of a building and started chasing me. I finally tasted freedom and it turns out, it tastes pretty similar to a storm of blaster shots whizzing past you. All my genetic augments finally turned out to be good for something, after nearly being killed I finally managed to escape my pursuers and found myself by a river and for the first time in almost ten years, I finally got a look at myself in my reflection. I was a fucking monster. My eyes were solid white and glowing, it looked like someone cut off the front of my nose, and my jaw, good fucking Force, my jaw. The thing was split in half down the middle and could open up like something out of a nightmare only to reveal rows of pointed teeth. My face almost made what I had on my back look normal, a damn second set of winged arms with talons for fingers. I collapsed next to that river and I'll be honest, I never wanted to wake up again, but I did. With my new instincts and genetic alterations, I managed to not just survive, but thrive in the areas outside and around settlements. After about a year, I finally managed to scavenge and piece together enough cloths, fabrics, and courage to form a makeshift cloak and scarf to cover my more, let's be honest and say "monstrous", traits. I made my way to the closest settlement and wouldn't you know it, it was my lucky day, they had a freighter ship passing through dropping off supplies and the crew was off drinking at the local bar. I made my way to where the freighter was landed and I guess I must have been staring too long trying to figure out a way to get on without getting caught because eventually a man approaches me. He introduced himself as Jarrik, offered me his hand, I shook it, and when he asked me for my name, I just went blank. I sure as shit wasn't "Son" but between how long it had been since I used it and it being beaten out of me, I just could not remember what my name was anymore. Then I remembered a word I saw in one of the science journals I had been allowed to read, "Chimera", an organism containing a mixture of different genetics; fits me perfectly, doesn't it? After what must've been quite an awkward pause, I finally introduce myself to Jarrik. Jarrick mentioned that the freighter was heading to the moon of Nar Shadda and when I asked him if he could get me onboard, he looked at me like I was crazy. "You actually WANT to go to the Smuggler's Moon? Friend, let me tell you, if you don't have any business with Nar Shadda, it's best you don't go making any business with her. Full of nothing but bounty hunters, criminals, gangs, and other scum from around the galaxy." The look I was giving Jarrik must've told him none of that was dissuading me, so with a sigh, he went on, "...BUT if you did want to get off this backwater excuse for a planet and Nar Shadda was your only hope, I wouldn't blame you." After a pause, he began again, Alright look, I used to be a smuggler back in the day, so I can absolutely get you aboard that freighter and make sure you stay hidden for the entire journey there. That said, smuggling can be a risky business, so I prefer my credits up front." Jarrik held his arm out like he was just waiting for a pile of credits to drop from the sky into his palm; so I held up my arms just enough to show him what I was wearing, a years old shirt and pair of pants that were barely being held together, covered in holes and tears. I didn't even have a pair of shoes to my name back then. Jarrik lets out an even deeper sigh, this time and pinched the bridge of his nose before talking again, "Alright, fine kid, you look like you've been through the wringer, so if you can give me a good reason why you need to get aboard that ship and get to Nar Shadda, I'll get you on board." My eyes went wide, my heart started to race, the only reason I could give Jarrik was my jacked up face but there was a not insignificant chance that if I showed him what I was working with, it would be a repeat of that first time all over again. I had already made it that far and I needed to get off that planet and Nar Shadda sounded like just the right place for someone like me, so I made the choice to show Jarrik my face. Turned out to be the right one in the end. I made sure no one else was around and slowly reached up to my scarf and pulled it down from around my lower face. Ah, poor Jarrik, the minute he saw my face he could barely keep himself together, but he was a professional, he quickly put his hands on my scarf and pulled it back up around my face. Jarrik flattened out the wrinkles on his shirt and let out a deep exhale to calm himself down before he started to speak again, "OK, yeah, alright, I can see why you would want to get out of here and with your looks, you'd fit right in on Nar Shadda just... you know, don't go around flashing that mug too much, ey? I'm going to get you on that ship." And he did, ol' Jarrik was good on his word and I made it to Nar Shadda safe and sound. If I ever saw him again I'd buy him a drink and thank him, it's all thanks to him that I'm where I am now. Of course, nothing ever really prepares you for Nar Shadda, especially when all you've know for most of your life is a cell. The noises and sights were almost too much at first, but I managed to settle in after a bit. I Eventually took up work as a bounty hunter at a local Guild. They were, of course, skeptical of the kid who walked in wearing little more than rags but I was persistent. I showed up to their building every day for a week begging for one job, just to prove myself. When I finally got my chance with some low level bounty, I don't think anyone expected the outcome. Only an hour after getting assigned the bounty, my target, some low level thug no one really cared about, came running into the office begging for them to take him in. And then in walks me not thirty seconds behind him, all eyes in the room went from being on him to being on me. That was when the Head of the Guild invited me up to his office and wanted to know both how I could track down a man so fast and just what in the hell I did to make him run into their arms so willingly. And so with a shrug and a "fuck it", I threw off my cloak and scarf and revealed my mutations. All told, the Guild Head was ecstatic and took it pretty well, you know, after he stopped freaking out. And the rest is history. I've been with the guild for several years now and have put out consistently impressive work and am one of their top earners. I report directly to the Head of the Guild and while we're pretty friendly, he still has to try to hold down his lunch whenever the scarf comes off but hey, everybody's got their hangups, right?

#dnd #dndcharacter #sw5e #star wars #Chimera

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ofxcxdemics · 5 years

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THE TRUTH OF DAISEY RUTHERFORD.

trigger warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood, assault.

it was the night of the bonfire; the crackle of a fire, the snapping of twigs underfoot, the crunch of leaves, the whisper of fall breezing through the trees, the moonlight pouring in through askew branches.

the lingering breath of a killer.

he regretted it. his hubris had made the academic insatiable, standing by an illicit bonfire on the edges of the st etienne campus. he had no desire to socialise with his fellow classmates, nor entertain the idea that he was ‘one of them’. in light of the scandal that had rocked his life, he had been a recluse. his superiors no longer talked to him, his peers combed over his frail physique with questions. underclassmen laughed when he walked by. although the transformative blog that once belonged to daisey was a well kept secret between the twenty nine other students chained to a fate as caustic as his own, it didn’t stop the blaze of gossip to burn rampantly through private circles and consume attention throughout the school.

texts. emails. word of mouth. even the fucking school therapist approached nate not two days later, their sanguine vocals tinged with sympathy as they drawled, ‘do you need someone to talk to ?’ no, he did not. he wanted to be left in his self appointed isolation, hidden from the world until the torment of his truth had long since ceased. however, it was like... his pain was necessary. his humiliation a means to an end. it had to happen.

that friday night however, the corrosive feelings of pity had malformed into something far more insidious — a rage was building inside of him. even as a child, the foundations were set to his inherent anger. every time his parents dismissed him and praised his brother, every time he spoke of joy in academic pursuits that only went on to be ignored, every time his character was made out to be something it wasn’t. brick upon brick upon brick. the wall of his rages now resembled a jenga tower, and that night at the art gallery was enough to send the entire wall crumbling down into a pile of debris.

nathaniel had no interest in attending the bonfire, at least, not for puritan reasons. he did not want to revel in the jollies of his fellow youth, nor acclimiatise to the life he could have had, if things… were different. if his childhood hadn’t been marred by something supernatural that tainted his ability to form connections with those around him. that made him unable to pursue anything other than the truth, and to do things... that no other people understood. no, nate had found himself on the outskirts of the bonfire, the woods surrounding him as the flicker of flames licked at the sky. he heard laughter, shouting. the occasional clang of a bottle against wood for those too inebriated to keep their drinks in their hands. concealed in a curtain of darkness, his eyes traced over the people before him. in particular, the infamous thirty: of which one was a killer, a sentiment that only made nathaniel think of daisey, of the fights they’d had, the truths she’d stolen, and the fate she met.

and the guilt that would forever swirl in his stomach from what he did, and what... he has to do.

—

“trust me, nathaniel. playing people is what i do best.”

i stared at her. she sat on the sofa as though anything that wasn’t a throne caused her tremendous discomfort. her legs were crossed, her eyes steely, her eyebrows knotted. her lips full. the look of disinterest was shared in my own, and we stared at each other for an unnatural progression of time.

“his misery has no applicable utility to my everyday life that vigorous study and academic pursuits could not achieve. your proposal is inane.”

we were as still as marble, or as though we’d been ripped from a painting and left to dry. the infallible daisey rutherford had just become engaged to my brother, through familial connections. neither the future bride nor groom were happy about the arrangement, but money had a way of guaranteeing silence on the matter. upon one of her visits to the ballantyne manor, she sought me out; trouble in her eyes.

“maybe it’s not about what is useful,” she purred, her lips slowly twisting as she uncurled from her spot on the love seat, strutting over to me. she closed the space that once permeated the room. “maybe it’s about what you want.” her hands on my chest, her head cocked proactively to the side, her tongue tracing her lips - i stared at her in morbid fascination. i swiped her hand away before rising to my feet, towering over her.

“i have no use for your ulterior motives. your touch will not promise a transaction, nor will an expression elicit the response you are trying to coach from me. be forthcoming with your true intent, and i will hear you. if your desire is to play games, then tear to shreds the manual you’ve used before me. you cannot anticipate my next move.”

the smile on daisey’s face was something i’d never forget. a spark of recognition, awash with something akin to... pride. comfort. taking a cautious step back, she presented her hand in an offering of solidarity. “marrying your brother is my own personal hell, and i want him to pay for it. i need your assistance in making sure that happens.”

despite my better judgement, the clause in my own personal contract that prevented anyone else from joining ranks in my life... i took her hand. and we shook on it.

that was the day i let daisey rutherford into my life.

—

the plan was simple. daisey had planned to use me as a weapon to carve out my brother’s heart. the brother who has been used to getting everything he ever desired, being the best compared to his strange and odd brother. in front of him and him alone, she endeavoured to make my brother jealous. daisey was free to have any dalliance she liked, for if anyone were to speak out about it, no one could possibly conceive the estranged match that she and i were. this meant that my brother was sentenced to watching what he assumed was a flourishing relationship as it slowly chipped away at his self worth.

it had been months now. the charade was no closer to ending.

after one of the many parties the rutherfords’ hosted, i had found myself lingering in a drawing room towards the rear of the house, away from the calamity of the event. daisey got what she wanted, the pained look in my brother’s eyes as we were to pretend not to latch onto each other’s hands as though he couldn’t see. the mask i had been forced to wear had become suffocating, and began to itch. a dissonance struck me whenever i met with daisey. what she and i wanted no longer aligned, and the purpose of our act seemed fruitless.

it wasn’t long until daisey sought me out. there were only so many places i was known to hide in, and the look on her face suggested that this was the first place she had ventured to. closing the door behind her as she entered the drawing room, clad in a dress made only from the most expensive of fabric, she raised an eyebrow at me.

“you look miserable.”

“incorrect. this is my natural predisposition.” i deadpanned.

daisey paused for a moment, a sliver of discomfort painting her features.

“ your natural disposition is your nose upturned, your lips thin. right now, you’re acting like someone you care about fucking died.”

nothing more was said, as the silence simmered around us. turning around, i walked to the window and turned my back to her. as inaccessible as my inner thoughts were, it was true that i had grown tiresome of the predicament we faced. i no longer wanted to be attached to a fictional daisey as i played a fictional nathaniel. but she was a leech; sucking out your blood and extracting your inner most secrets like she had a right to them. she was impossible to quit.

gnawing on her bottom lip, daisey sauntered over to where i stood by a windowsill, resting her head to the highest point she could reach of my arm, wrapping her arms around them. the act was... domestic in nature. i turned to her in confusion.

“but… there’s no crowd. no benefit. no purpose. who are we trying to fool?”

if there was one thing you had to know about daisey rutherford, it was that she took what she wanted. she didn’t know the word no. she got everything she could ever dream of, simply by aligning her attentions to attaining it at any possible cost. to this day, i still do not know if her succeeding actions were motivated from desire... or utility.

“ourselves,” she whispered, turning my head to face hers.

she closed the gap between us, and she pressed her lips against mine.

i didn’t stop her. i don’ think i ever had a choice.

—

“stay. don’t leave me,” daisey whined, her lips pursed as she sat on the corner of my bed.

i stared at myself in my full body mirror, slowly buttoning up a white shirt. my expression was stoic as always, painted almost as pale as the fabric that covered my body. “i promised oz we’d go, dais. categorically speaking, you enjoy all social events.”

daisey rolled her eyes at me, before slipping out of bed in her everyday attire, which always somehow managed to eclipse the best formal wear of others she was in acquaintance with. her lipstick however, was smudged.

“i enjoy you. i tolerate social events. they’re useful to me.”

i paused. it was not... in the plan for daisey to not attend the homecoming party that night. with the 2019/20 st etienne year beginning, nate could agree that the last place he’d desire to be is an event in which intoxication and duly conversation was its’ goal. but despite his reticence, they had to go. they... they had to go.

“your peers will find your absence suspicious.” i commented gingerly, knotting my tie around my neck. my breath hitched for a moment. daisey evaporated by my side as her face rested on my shoulder. she put herself on her toes, and she did not look impressed.

“why do you want me to go so bad, nathaniel ?”

i didn’t know how to answer that. and so i didn’t, and instead, stared at her blankly.

“ugh.” with her signature groan, daisey tossed her hair out of her face before heading to my closet, where a generous stash of her clothing had been deposited over time.

the feeling sank in my stomach as i watched her go. i couldn’t look anywhere else. i knew that this was a sight to be savoured.

—

holding onto the bark, jutting into his skin until it drew blood, nathaniel stared at the students, completely oblivious to his looming on the edge of the woods. his mind swirled with thoughts of his secret, out there, floating on the tips of the fire. his mind was affixed to the fact that one of the students in that very woods knew what happened to daisey. his daisey. his mind was also caught on the blog, a killer, a mural, the never ending threats. the role they were all made to play.

after everything that had happened, nate wasn’t the same person that he once was. and no amount of therapy, of people in his life, or even academic pursuit could change that.

vengeance in his blood, the brunette stepped away from the trees. he fell into the shadows of the night, as the naive innocence of his fellow students chimed around him. they were happy. they didn’t know. they didn’t know what he did. and as nate slowly fell into the night and the landscape of trees, one thing was true:

that was the last anyone would see this nathaniel ballantyne.

#( nate ; self para ! )#law and order vc: DUN DUN #IF YOU READ THROUGH THIS #I LOVE YOU

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not-a-space-alien · 5 years

Text

Into the Unknown, Part 1: Crowley’s Big Plans

Prologue | Dramatis Personae

Series masterpost

On AO3

Force equals mass times acceleration. This law of nature, elegant in its simplicity, the undeniable truth that big things go boom when they go fast, had been applied to everything from bullets to cannon balls to fists, from swords and rapiers and daggers and automobiles and rockets, trebuchets and boulders.

And it was currently being applied to a ball of polished stone rolling very fast, over and over, logo whizzing in and out of view in turn, down an aisle of slick wood.

Olivia’s bowling ball smacked straight into the lead pin with the force of something launched from a cannon, striking the formation with military precision. It sent the whole thing collapsing into an explosion of pins, which jiggled on the floor against each other as the arm came down to sweep them away.

From behind her, Oryss erupted into a cheer, accidentally knocking over her basket of nachos.

Olivia turned around, snapping her fingers and holding her arms aloft. “And that’s how it’s done, folks.”

“Wow,” said Crowley. “I’ve never seen anyone bowl a perfect game before.” He still hadn’t. He hadn’t been watching Olivia bowl; he had been too busy setting everyone’s nicknames on the outdated computer system the bowling alley used to keep score. Currently the lineup on their game was Snake Charmer Suprem,* King Puddinghead, Turkey Master, and Nachofingers.

*Not a typo. There was a character limit.

“Marvelously done, dear girl,” said Aziraphale.

The bar moved down to highlight Nachofingers. “You’re up, babe,” said Olivia, slapping Oryss on the back.

Oryss took a moment to use some hand-sanitizer before retrieving her bowling ball, sighting down it like a deadly weapon and flinging it with an air of utmost seriousness.

It plopped into the gutter, missing the pins entirely.

“Can we please play with the gutter rails up?” Oryss whined.

“Come on, you still have another shot,” said Crowley. “I’m sure you’ll get a spare.”

Pouting, Oryss retrieved another bowling ball and rolled it down the lane, knocking over a measly two or three pins.

“You’re not even using the same ball each time!” Olivia said. “How are you going to really feel it out, you know? You’ve got to get the feel of the ball.”

“I feel like I’m going to smack you,” said Oryss.

They played one more game, much to the dismay of Aziraphale, who had mostly spent the last one chiding Crowley for changing the names on the displays of the lanes around them to silly things. At Oryss’s insistence, they played with the gutter rails up this time. This resulted in the discovery that Oryss’s bowling strategy was mostly to just bounce the ball off the rails a bunch of times and hope it eventually rolled near the pins.

Olivia absolutely demolished the competition, and Crowley handed over the fiver he had promised her upon hearing the claim that she could get two perfect games in a row.

“Well, that was a lovely time,” said Aziraphale, letting the door to the bowling alley swing closed behind him.

“How did you get so good at this?” said Crowley.

“I’ve had a lot of spare time since Heaven collapsed,” said Olivia. “Since we’re all basically unemployed now. Finally feel like I have time for a hobby. Haven’t you been doing anything different? Now that Hell’s not breathing down your neck making sure you’re productive.”

I’ve never been productive in my life, Crowley thought, except maybe that one time with the M25. And Manchester. “Mostly just been watching Netflix.”

“Lazy.”

“I’ve earned it.”

Olivia shrugged.

“What would you prefer to do next?” said Aziraphale. “You’re the guests after all. It’s not every day you visit London, so we can do whatever you like.”

“There’s a stationery shop around the corner I wanted to check out,” said Olivia.

“A stationery shop?” said Aziraphale.

Olivia turned towards Crowley, and said with a painfully unsubtle wink, “Yep! I think you’d really like it, Aziraphale! Oryss and Crowley would find it dreadful, though.”

Crowley winced and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Mmm-hmmm,” said Aziraphale. “…All right, then.”

They walked down the sidewalk. A familiar figure came whizzing towards them, with long brown hair streaming behind him.

“Why, it’s Adramelech!” said Aziraphale.

Adramelech rolled past them at top speed on a pair of rollerblades, gesturing grandly and beaming. “Hi, Aziraphale!”

He whizzed away. Sylvia appeared in his wake, struggling to stay upright on a pair of pink roller skates. “Hi, Aziraphale!”

“I didn’t realise you were in London!” said Aziraphale.

“Watch out, Botis is right behind me,” she said, rolling away.

“Huh—”

Aziraphale flinched backwards as Botis appeared, grinding along the guard rail beside them on a skateboard. “Hello, sir! See you later!”

“Uh,” said Aziraphale.

Finally, Kyleth came last in line. She was jogging, the only one not outfitted with wheels.

“Kyleth, I didn’t know you were all in town,” said Aziraphale. “What’s going on?”

“Just going on vacation!” said Kyleth cheerily, with an exaggerated wink at Crowley.

“All of you at once? There’s a lot of familiar faces who normally live quite far away.”

“We have time to travel now,” said Kyleth. “Anyway, see you!”

Oryss and Olivia continued on once the sidewalk was clear. Aziraphale stood bewildered. He pulled at Crowley’s sleeve. “Crowley, dear, let me talk to you.”

Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sure, sure.”

“It seems like an awful lot of our friends are in town all at once, without notice.”

“Yep,” said Crowley.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say it looked like you were planning a surprise of some sort.”

Crowley pursed his lips. “Good thing you do know better, then. Shall we?”

Aziraphale looked hesitantly at Crowley’s proffered arm. “Crowley, I—”

“Nothing going on.”

“This is because I made that comment about getting married, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale had made a comment a few weeks ago about how he had always fantasised about marrying Crowley. The angel had immediately backpedaled, saying how since marriage was a sacrament of the church it only made sense Crowley wouldn’t like it, and how any event traditionally taking place in a church would surely feel inappropriate and uncomfortable for Crowley. But Crowley had seen the desire on his face, and the flush of silly, embarrassed joy at the thought.

“Look,” said Aziraphale. “I—I want you to be comfortable more than anything. I would never wish for anything you didn’t want too, and—”

“I know, angel.”

“It would only be a token gesture at this point, anyway. It isn’t necessary.”

“Few of the nice things in life are truly necessary.”

“It’s not as though—”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have them.”

Nevertheless, Aziraphale’s face creased in worry. “I would never ask you to do this just for me, Crowley, you know that, right? Nothing so ceremonial and trite could change our relationship after everything we’ve been through together.”

“We have no reason to be afraid of a wedding now,” said Crowley. “We’re surrounded by people who care about us, and everyone who hated us is gone. The world is gentler now.”

“What a strange world we live in now,” said Aziraphale quietly. “That an angel and a demon can get married, and invite both archangels and archdemons to the wedding without fear of repercussions.”

“An unfamiliar and foreign place and time,” said Crowley, offering his arm for Aziraphale to take. In the distance, Olivia and Oryss beckoned them to come on. “Shall we go off into the unknown, then?”

Aziraphale took his arm, and they strolled away.

“And besides,” said Crowley, a twinkle in his eye, “there’s nothing happening anyway. We’re just out for a day of shopping with our friends from out of town.”

Aziraphale gave a wry smile. “All right.”

“Here it is!” said Olivia, pointing excitedly to a shopfront that had very small windows such that anyone inside couldn’t see the sidewalk. “Can’t you just smell the…paper?”

“It looks lovely,” said Aziraphale, obediently entering the shop.

Crowley waited till Aziraphale and Olivia had both disappeared into the shop, then he and Oryss ran off.

“First the jewelry shop,” said Crowley, “then the catering, then the flowers.”

“All right,” said Oryss. “Olivia has a list of at least five shops she could drag Aziraphale through, so we should have at least two or three hours.” She clapped her hands. “Thank you so much for letting me be a bridesmaid, Crowley, I know the maid of honour normally helps with choosing the food and decorations and stuff but—”

“Yes, well, I think we both know Maltha wouldn’t be very naturally talented at picking out this sort of thing,” said Crowley. “Though she would certainly try.”

Oryss giggled, bouncing a little. “I can’t wait to see all the pretty flowers and try the different cakes—”

“All right, well, remember we’re only picking out things for the engagement party right now, not the wedding itself. We’re not getting a wedding cake yet.”

Oryss nodded, but still bounced with excitement.

The jeweler’s was the first stop. They spent an entire one of their two to three hours in the shop, and Oryss was considerably less happy coming out than she had been going in.

“Rubbish,” Crowley muttered.

“None of them?” she said, frustrated. “Really? None of them?”

“It has to be perfect,” said Crowley. “I don’t want to propose to Aziraphale with just any old ring. It needs to be…special. Like he is.”

Oryss wanted to tell him that while Aziraphale was nice, he wasn’t nearly special enough that none of the rings in the finest jewelry shop in London were good enough for him. But she thought better of it. “Okay. That’s fine. We can come back to this later. Let’s go focus on the catering for now.”

They spent the second hour of their two to three hours at the catering shop, and they both walked out just as unhappy, but this time it was Oryss glowering.

“Come on, Oryss.”

“Out of all the things you Brits stole from Africa, you think you could have at least stolen some decent food.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Oryss twisted her face.

“Do you want to cook, then?”

Oryss seemed to seriously consider it for a moment, and Crowley rushed to add, “That was rhetoric. I don’t expect you to cook for ninety-six people.”

“Why is it you care so much about what Aziraphale wears on his finger but not what he eats? He likes eating. I don’t think he’s ever expressed much interest in jewelry.”

“It’s—It’s—symbolic of—nevermind. Look, it’s a picnic. We’ll be at a park. We just need some finger foods.”

“Let’s come back to this, too,” said Oryss, who had an unfortunate habit of simply pushing difficult things off to think about at a later time, when she was older and wiser.

“All right. Flowers are next.”

Oryss licked her lips.

“Oh, so that food isn’t good enough, but flowers are acceptable catering?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it. Ahh!”

This last bit was prompted by the sudden appearance of a hellish figure towering over them, stepping out of a swarm of flies. Oryss and Crowley both jumped a little, then relaxed.

“Oh, h-hi, Beelzebub,” said Crowley.

“What brings you up here?” said Oryss.

Beelzebub held a small package with a note attached to it. “King Noah haz zent me up to deliver thiz,” he buzzed. “He regretz greatly that he will be unable to attend the event to which you kindly invited him, and zent thiz in hiz ztead.”

“Oh,” said Crowley. “That’s all right. I know he’s busy. Does he still intend to come to the wedding itself, though?”

“Yez, he haz zworn to attend.”

“All right.”

Beelzebub handed him the package.

“Thanks.”

Beelzebub inclined his head, then stepped back and faded into the shadows.

“Huh,” said Crowley, hefting the package in his hand. “I think that’s the first time Beelzebub has addressed me respectfully without putting up a fuss.”

“I’ve heard the archdemons are all getting along well with Noah’s new rules,” said Oryss. “Even Dagon.”

Crowley grimaced. Dagon had been the one to deliver him to Satan for torture, and Crowley had never had any pleasant interactions with him. Regardless of how much Noah reformed Hell’s higher-ups, he still felt just a little uneasy around them.

Not that he had much reason to, though. He trusted Noah’s judgement absolutely. He had grown up to be far wiser than Crowley could have imagined.

But still.

“I wonder what’s inside it!” said Oryss, looking like she wanted to tear the package open herself.

Crowley carefully removed the note and read it.

Crowley,

I’m so delighted to hear of your and Aziraphale’s engagement. Forgive me for not attending the engagement party, but I’m needed down here. I will be at the wedding, come Hell or high water. In the meantime, please accept this. I think you will like them, but don’t feel obligated to use them if you have already found a suitable ring. I found them in Hell’s treasury and thought of you; use them however you wish. They also have a special enchantment on them called the Lover’s Charm. When you activate it, no matter the distance separating you, you’ll know you’re with each other. The charm takes twelve hours to charge up but otherwise can be used however you want. Enjoy.

-King Noah, Lord of etc. etc.

Crowley suppressed his excitement at the word ring and dutifully read the rest of the letter before unwrapping the gift wrap.

The package was a satchel containing two velvet ring boxes. The black one opened to reveal a handsome silver ring set with onyx and, in the center, a deep red garnet. The white one contained a gold ring garnished with diamonds and a clear sky-blue lapis lazuli. They both had an occult sigil of some sort set in the base, pulsing very faintly with a minor charm.

Crowley’s eyes began to water.

“Crowley?” said Oryss. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” said Crowley, choked up. “Just glad I didn’t settle for that diamond back in the shop.”

****************************

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’”

Uriel’s eyes drifted uncomprehendingly towards Beth’s hand, which tapped the deck of cards sitting on the coffee table. “What?”

Beth sighed. “You have one card left, but you didn’t say ‘Uno.’”

Uriel looked at her card, which was very clearly and visibly to everyone in the room a green six. “Why do I have to say ‘Uno’?”

“That’s the law of the land here in Beth’s house,” said Maltha. She was stretched languidly out on the carpet with her chin on the coffee table, looking morosely at her enormous stack of cards. She knew vaguely this meant she was losing, but she wasn’t entirely sure how.

“It’s just the rule of the game,” said Beth. “When you have one card left, if you don’t say ‘Uno,’ another player can make you take two cards.”

Uriel furrowed her brow. “And what if I refuse?”

Beth hid her expression with the meat of her hand. “Then that’s cheating. Look, just take two cards. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it if we play a few more rounds.”

Uriel took two cards.

“All right,” said Beth. “My turn.”

She put down a reverse card.

“Now it’s your turn again, Uriel.”

“I just went,” Uriel cried. “I thought it was my turn after Maltha!”

“I just played a reverse card,” Beth explained. “So now we’re going the other way.”

“Um,” said Uriel. “Okay.” She put down a card.

“You can’t play that. Your card has to be either the same colour, or the same number as this one.”

Uriel put a six on top of the proffered nine, upside-down.

“I guess that counts,” said Beth. “Now Maltha goes.”

“I thought it was your turn to go,” said Maltha tiredly.

“I played a—Look, it’s your turn, okay?”

Maltha drew a card. Then she drew another. Then another.

“I’m not sure you understand the point of the game,” said Beth. “You’re supposed to get rid of all your cards.”

“But why?” said Maltha. “I have the biggest stack. I’ve hoarded more resources. I have the most power.”

Beth put her deck down and sighed. “Why this? Why is it Uno? I have yet to meet a single angel or demon that can play Uno properly. We’re not even using any house rules.”

“The thing about saying ‘Uno’ is a house rule,” said Maltha.

“That’s not a house rule.”

“But it’s the rule in your house.”

Aggravated, Beth made a motion like she were going to strangle Maltha. She was interrupted by the intercom buzzing.

Beth walked over and pushed the button for the intercom. “Yoo-hoo,” came the voice from the tinny speaker. “It’s Adramelech, just dropping by for a quick chat.”

“Hey!” said Beth. “Come on up.”

“You have a package here; I’ll bring it up for you.”

“Thanks!”

Beth went and unlocked the door, and Adramelech came in gesturing grandly. “Beth, darling, I—Oh, I really must be going, would you look at the time.”

The shift in tone was sudden and prompted by Adramelech noticing Uriel sitting on the sofa. Adramelech pulled a U-turn back out the front door.

“Adramelech, wait,” said Beth, pulling his arm. “You just got here. Don’t be silly.”

She took the package from him and set it on the counter. “Ah-ha-ha, of course,” Adramelech said, masking his unhappiness very poorly.

“Do you not want to be here with Uriel here?” said Beth.

Adramelech didn’t answer, pursing his lip.

“She’s changed,” said Maltha.

“So I’ve heard,” Adramelech said sourly.

“She’s right, you know,” said Beth. “You should give her a chance.”

The shimmering feathers on Adramelech’s head rose.

Uriel stood, smoothing out her dress. “Adramelech, was it?”

Adramelech nodded.

“I shall apologise to you.”

“What for?”

“I owe every demon an apology.”

“Ah,” said Adramelech. “Thanks. But, well, listen, I know it’s on good authority that you’ve turned over a new leaf. But all the same, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not hang around you.”

Uriel deflated. “Oh.”

Beth looked supremely disappointed. Adramelech winced and backed towards the door.

“I suppose that’s fair,” said Uriel. “I wish you well.”

“Thanks,” said Adramelech coldly. “We can talk on the phone later, Beth.”

He exited. “Hmph,” said Beth, shutting the door behind him. “What an utter killjoy.”

“He is slow to trust,” said Maltha. “As a general rule. I do not blame him. It’s a healthy fear, even though most demons seems to be growing out of it since Noah took the throne.”

Beth nodded. “Yeah. Like poor Crowley, he’s always been an anxious mess, but he seems like he’s doing really well now.”

Maltha nodded.

“Oh, the package,” said Beth. “It must be the cufflinks.”

“Cufflinks?” said Uriel.

“I ordered them online,” said Beth, tearing the package open. “They’re adorable—shaped like little angel wings. I got a pair for Aziraphale and one for Crowley. I know they said not to bring presents to the engagement party, but I figured, eh, I could give it to them at the wedding at least.”

Uriel looked up sharply. “Engagement party?”

“You knew Aziraphale and Crowley were getting engaged,” said Maltha. “Didn’t you? That’s why everyone’s in town.”

“Well, yes, but….” She twiddled her thumbs. “I didn’t know there was a party.”

Beth grimaced. “Oh. They didn’t invite you, then…?”

“No.”

Maltha shuffled her cards. Beth cleared her throat.

“I don’t suppose I blame them,” said Uriel. “Though it’d be a lie to say I’m not disappointed.”

“I thought with Maltha’s reports on how well you were doing, surely they’d invite you,” said Beth. “But I guess not. I’m sorry.”

“Would it still be polite to get a gift?”

“I suppose,” said Maltha.

“Hmm,” said Uriel. She reached into her purse sitting on the floor; it was a cream-coloured shoulder bag, which Beth had got her, and in which she kept a number of interesting things she thought would be fun. It was Maltha who had given her the assignment to fill it with things that were purely for enjoyment, and so it was now filled with odd knickknacks one didn’t usually find in purses.

Her hands ran along one such item, which was purple, and long, and thin, and pointed.

**************************************

“Thanks again, Oryss.”

She pulled back from their hug, patting him on the back. “Of course. Just let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be in town until the Tuesday after the party.”

“Great.”

She exited with a tinkle of the shop bell. That left Crowley to hide his purchases, and to especially stash the rings somewhere where Aziraphale wouldn’t see them.

He held the two ring boxes, one in each hand. Part of him wanted to simply keep them in his pocket so he didn’t have to let go of them.

But that wouldn’t do. He had to find somewhere to keep them where Aziraphale couldn’t find them.

Still holding the two boxes, brow furrowed in concentration, he marched out into the shop.

“Hello.”

Crowley jumped straight into the air, dropping both boxes, at the voice. “Oh, ah…” He ran his hands nervously down the front of his suit. “Oh.”

Uriel had come into the shop, staring at him with her hands crossed in front of her. He was a little alarmed by the huge spikes in her hands, until he realised they were large knitting needles. They were neon purple and still had a bit of yarn spun around them.

Crowley knelt and retrieved the two velvet boxes from the floor. “Oh, um, hi, Uriel…”

“I heard about your plan to propose,” said Uriel, with unsettling quietness.

Crowley was still on his knees to scoop up the white box from under the counter, leaving Uriel to loom over him. It made him uncomfortable, and he stood and brushed himself off as soon as he realised. “Yeah?” he said, with a tinge of nervousness.

Uriel held out a misshapen piece of fabric. “I made this for you.”

It was a hat, Crowley realised. A frankly rather shoddily-constructed and ugly hat, but a knitted hat nonetheless.

“As a congratulations gift,” said Uriel.

“Oh, th-thanks,” said Crowley, taking the hat. The fabric felt like it wouldn’t be very comfortable on his head, but he pulled it on anyway. He suspected he looked ridiculous. “Did you make it yourself?”

The needles in Uriel’s hands clacked against each other. “Yes. Maltha suggested I should take up a hobby. To relieve tension.”

“How long have you been working at it, then?”

Uriel looked at the needles with an unreadable expression. “Four years. I haven’t gotten any better at it.”

“Oh,” said Crowley.

They both just stood there for a moment.

“How’s Metatron?” Crowley asked.

“They and I do not talk much anymore,” said Uriel, sounding very subdued. “They mostly stay in Heaven.”

“Ah. Um…so how are you doing, then?”

“Not bad,” said Uriel. “Questioning is still scary, but it’s more manageable now. Maltha and I have spent a lot of time together. She is a very good friend. Beth, too, which I didn’t expect from a human.”

They stood in awkward silence again. Crowley cleared his throat. “Um, not to be rude, but I was kind of…I was in the middle of…”

“Oh, right,” said Uriel. “I just came to give you the hat. I hope you enjoy it.”

“Thanks, I will.” The coat closet would, at least.

The bell tinkled as Uriel opened the shop door. She turned back to him briefly. “I wish you and Aziraphale all the happiness in the world. You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” said Crowley, almost shocked by such sentiment from Uriel, of all people. “Oh, um…”

“Yes?”

“Is anyone teaching you how to knit, or…?”

“No, I’m mostly working by myself.”

Crowley dug in the section of the bookshop where Aziraphale filed his arts and crafts books, pulling out a basic knitting book with very large and clear illustrations. “Here, this might help you. You can have it. Aziraphale will never know it’s gone.”

Uriel took it, her facial expression remaining melancholy. “Thanks, Crowley.”

She left him alone in the bookshop, and Crowley watched through the shopfront as she descended the stairs to catch the tube.

Aziraphale appeared in the window in font of his nose, looking unsettled. He cracked the door open. “Is everything all right? I just saw Uriel leaving.”

“Yeah,” said Crowley. “Nothing to worry about. She was just offering her congratulations.” He almost said condolences, based on her tone, though she didn’t appear to bear them any ill will.

Aziraphale shut the door behind him. “She’s not nearly as horrible as she used to be.”

“Yeah,” said Crowley. He suddenly had a realisation and moved to swipe the two ring boxes, sitting out on the counter, out of Aziraphale’s line of sight.

“What’s that?” said Aziraphale.

“Nothing at all,” said Crowley.

“Not rings, is it?”

“Of course not,” said Crowley. He was a good liar as a rule, but not even Aziraphale swallowed this one.

“Interesting, because those boxes had the jeweler’s logo on them.”

“Hmm, weird for a box that doesn’t have a ring in it.”

“Indeed.”

“What would I even have a ring for?”

“Some human cultures, including the one we currently live in, use them as matrimonial symbols.”

“Mmm,” said Crowley. “Interesting. I’ll write that down in case I need to use it in the future.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “You old silly.”

Crowley beamed. “Hey, you don’t have anything planned for Saturday, do you?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “No.”

“Yes, you do now.”

Aziraphale grinned. “It’s a date, then.”

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

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mary-whoisleft · 6 years

Text

1976, Summer After Mary’s 5th Year

Lydia + Mary’s Tree No Boys Allowed

Mary ran her fingers over the words that were carved into the tree. She still remembered when they were put there many years ago, before she had gone to Hogwarts. Before she had even known she was a witch. A 12-year-old Lydia clumsily dug a pocket knife into the wood, one they had stolen from there father and definitely should not have been using. Looking at the way the letters jut off in all directions, showing where the knife had slide this way and that, she was amazed Lydia hadn’t taken off a finger in the process.

The tree was an old willow, with branches and leaves hanging down almost to the ground. It didn’t create enough shelter to actually hide them from parents who were looking at them, but enough that two young girls could believe it was a secret place just for them. And over the years, it would become the place they returned to again and again whenever they needed some Quality Sister Time.

“So, are you wondering why I dragged you out here?” Lydia already was sitting at the base of the tree, comfortably leaning against the trunk. She had a way of making herself at home no matter where she was, like the place she truly belonged was just whatever place she happened to be inhabiting at the time.

“Is it to play another drinking game? Because we already know you always win. And last time mum and dad definitely heard us going back into the house. If we’re not careful, they’re going to stop pretending they don’t know that we drink,” Mary said as she joined her.

Lydia shrugged. “Let them. I’m eighteen now, what do I care.”

“You have no concern for your little sister?”

“Nah, she’s kind of a bitch anyway.”

Mary gave Lydia’s arm a small slap, but not before they both were softly laughing. It was a normal moment of a normal night. She had missed having normalcy in her life.

“But the reason I brought you out here was because I wanted to tell you a secret,” Lydia spoke up again. “You can’t tell anyone else yet.”

“I’m all ears,” Mary said. And she really was. She had been the keeper of many of Lydia’s secrets over the years. Tales of boys she shouldn’t have kissed, tattoos she had gotten on a whim, nights spent out having fun hoping she wouldn’t be caught sneaking back in the house in the morning. Mary sometimes thought that even if she wasn’t her older sister, she would still idolize her, just a little. How could she not? Lydia lived life with such freedom, such enjoyment.

“I’ve decided not to go to uni,” she said. “And I just know mum’s going to freak.”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll think I’m throwing away my intelligence or something like that.”

“No, why don’t you want to go.”

“Oh. Because I don’t want to go to more school to learn how to do something so I can get a job doing that thing so I can only do that thing for the rest of my life.” She explained it in an exasperated way, like it was the most ridiculous concept ever. “I want to be more than just one thing.”

Mary thought over that answer. It was a very Lydia answer. And there were maybe some flaws in the logic, some counterpoints she could point out, but because of that reason she knew none of it would do any good. Lydia had made up her mind. So she said, “What are you going to do instead?”

“I think I’m going to work with dad for a bit on the boats. Save up some money. Then spend all of it on traveling. Then, maybe I’ll come back and do it all again. Maybe not. I’ll figure it out as I go. It’s what I do best.” She said it with such a confidence, it was hard not to believe her. It wasn’t a typical path for life, but Lydia wasn’t a typical person.

“You’re right,” Mary said, turning her head towards her sister. “Mum is going to freak.”

“You gotta help back me up.”

Mary sucked in air through her teeth, like she was weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to her plea. “Alright. But only if you back me up when I tell her I’m not going either.”

“Really?”

“It’s not really a thing in the wizarding world,” she said with a shrug. “Certain jobs have training programs or something, but real school usually stops at Hogwarts.”

“Wow. Can’t believe I actually agree with those rich pricks on something,” Lydia said, using one of her new favorite nicknames for the people Mary shared her new world with. Mary, in reply, snorted but then paused for a moment. Out in the field where they were, curled up under a tree, it was quiet without being silent. Soft sounds of nature around them, the distant sound of waves on the closest shore. It was a comforting kind of quiet. She used to think Hogwarts at night had a comforting kind of quiet. But now she just found it unnerving.

“You know,” Mary finally spoke up, “I actually thought you brought me out to talk. About what happened.”

Lydia looked at her younger sister like she was studying her face for something. Then, she looked back out past the tree branches like she had gotten her answer. “I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would bring it up. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright then.” Lydia wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulder pulling her closer. “I’m here whenever you do. But until then, let me tell you about all the place I’m going to go-”

1979, Niall and Katherine’s 25th Wedding Anniversary

“Really, Mary, I don’t think you’re going to need any more blankets,” Lydia said, looking at the pile Mary had already put on living room couch. To be fair, it was a ridiculous amount, especially considering the fact that the weather was getting warmer and she would certainly die of heat if she used them all. But she liked to be prepared, especially when things around her were feeling strange. And that day, the strangest thing of all had happened: Lydia had brought home a guy. Just showed up to their parent’s anniversary with him, saying she wanted to introduce him to them all. The entire family was still trying to figure it out.

“You know, I offer to sleep on the couch so you and Mr. Ten-Feet-Tall can have our room to yourselves, and you come out here and make fun of me?” Mary huffed in faux-annoyance.

“Not making fun,” Lydia answered, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Just trying to offer a little sisterly advice.”

Plopping down next to her blanket bundle, Mary curled her legs up to her chest so there was room for Lydia to join her. The house was already quiet, everyone else having already gone to sleep. It had been a nice day. Her parents had thrown a small party for their anniversary, guest list including some extended family, close neighbors, and all three of the Macdonald children. “It’s been awhile since we’ve been together, huh?”

“Yeah. You and I have been busy,” Lydia said, but her tone made it obvious that she meant two different things by that word. Lydia had been busy traveling and working strange but interesting jobs that kept getting offered to her. Mary had been busy dealing with a war. Something no one in her family knew the details of. But Lydia always had a way of knowing things without having to be told.

“So why are you down here and not upstairs snogging your incredibly attractive boyfriend,” Mary said, far too obviously changing the subject.

“I already shagged him in the bathroom earlier. Figured I’d give him some time to recover.”

“Oh my god,” Mary said with a playful eye roll. “Seriously, though, who is this guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s been ten years worth of guys, and the only time I ever met one was when he was trying to sneak out of the house before dad caught him.” She heard a lot about the guys who had come in and out of Lydia’s life. But only as secondary characters of her stories, there one moment, gone the next. But not this guy. Even before Lydia showed up with him that day, his name had been popping up in the letters she wrote. There had even been some pictures sent of the two of them. It made Mary insanely curious. What romantic interest managed to make his way into her life and settle in there? “Now you’re introducing Ian to us? He must be pretty special.”

“He is,” Lydia said in a dreamier way that Mary had ever heard her talk before. “ Alright, alright, I’ll tell you.” She paused for a dramatic effect, but could only last a few moments before she got too excited and burst out: ”We’re getting married.”

Lydia had always managed to keep everyone one their toes. But that was the one thing Mary had not seen coming.

“What?” She was trying, and mostly failing, to even begin to process that information. “What, are you serious? How long have you two been dating?”

“Seven months. And Mary, he’s incredible. I’ve never felt this kind of connection with someone before. And I’ve met a lot of people. But Ian, he’s so much fun, and we love traveling together, and we’re alike in a lot of those ways. But he’s a bit more level-headed and practical and I’ve realized it’s nice to have someone like that around.” She was gushing. It was bizarre. Mary had never seen her talk like this about anyone. A cool rooftop view she had found in Paris, sure. An awesome new band she had found, yeah. A particularly good piece of chocolate cake, of course. But never a guy. This really was different.

“Wow. You are serious.”

“Very serious.”

“I guess I just didn’t see you getting married, like, anytime soon.”

“Me either. It all happened so fast. But with these things, when you know, you know.” She paused, like she was waiting for Mary to interject. Lydia never asked approval from anyone. She just did what she wanted and if people didn’t like it that was their problem. But now she looked at her sister with wide eyes that asked her to approve of this. It made her look younger, in a way, which threw Mary off. When she hesitated in answering, Lydia continued on: “And maybe it won’t turn out the way I want it to. But mistakes are just proof that you’re living life. So I have to take my chance at the wonderful life I could have with Ian.”

Mary let it roll around in her head one more time. Who was she to say this was a mistake? This was not the next surprise she saw coming in Lydia’s life, but she couldn’t deny that her life was full of surprises. Chasing after things with her whole heart as they popped up, that’s what she had been doing for years now. And it had worked out really well for her so far.

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re right! And I’m happy for you. God, congratulations!” Once she finally let herself accept it, a huge smile broke onto her face and she practically threw herself at her sister to hug her. Which quickly dissolved into both of them giggling far too loudly and shushing each other so they wouldn’t wake anyone up. By the time they were able to get their giddiness back under control, the pile of blankets had been entirely knocked to the floor.

“When’s the date?” Mary asked

“Oh, we don’t know yet,” Lydia answered. “We just got engaged last week. We think we want it within the year. But first I wanted everyone to get the chance to meet him.”

“So no one knows yet.”

“No. We’re going to tell them at breakfast tomorrow. But I wanted you to know first.”

“So I can back you up?” Mary asked suspiciously. Not that she would mind, of course. It was a role they had played for each other countless times over the years.

“Nah, I think Ian and I can handle any arguments they throw at us.” She turned to look at her sister more fully. her eyes shining with an excited light. With all the shit Mary had been going through lately, it was nice to see a moment of such genuine happiness. “But I wanted us to get to be excited about it first, before we let anyone else in on it.”

Mary smiled back at her sister, taking just one more moment to think crazy and wonderful it all way. And then she pushed herself off of the couch. ”Well then, I think there’s gotta be a leftover bottle of champagne. I say we break it open, drink the whole thing, and you can tell me every single detail about you two.”

#m:family #m:lydia #i was going to wait until i had all three done but of course i have no impulse control #so enjoy some slice of life

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intoxicatingimmediacy · 6 years

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Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal on “Blindspotting” | Medium

[...] In the film, your characters play movers who come into contact with a wide range of customers, including a photographer who shows them photos about the oak trees that can no longer be found in the city named for them, and he asks the two of you to stare into each other’s eyes. Tell me what inspired that and what you were thinking about in that scene.

RC: The exercise was stolen from one of my mentors, Chris Walker, who made us do it when I was teaching at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. He would have the students do that and then there were all these mimicking games and stuff. It was about getting the giggles out and establishing intimacy between two actors or two performers. That’s also just a very hippie thing to ask someone to do something you really love. I think the Bay Area is so hippie in that way and the idea of making two grown men try to connect in an intimate way was a way to display how uncomfortable that is for two guys who have known each other their whole lives. It just felt like a fun thing to do early in the script. Performing it — we have a different level of comfort than Miles and Collin do so that was easy for us. There were a few moments during the photoshoot for the film where they had us so close together it was so funny. For the photo we were within an inch away and I go, “This is alright but normally only a girl or my dog could get that close to my face.”

DD: There were all sorts of different versions of who the character was but they were all a particular Bay Area energy that we didn’t have represented other places in the film, somebody who despite being forced to interact with capitalism in the way that we all have to would much prefer to peddle understanding as opposed to paintings. He would rather give all of his pictures away and just be able to promote these moments of true honest understanding with each other. So he sees an opportunity here and one of the things he gets to bring out is that we get to see how difficult intimacy even on the basic level is for two male friends despite being friends their whole lives. There is something awkward about just being this close together and actually looking each other in the eye. Most of the time you don’t look at the person you are talking to. But that is where all of the cues for how somebody is feeling are.

Why is it that your characters can live in a community of interracial relationships that seem completely accepted but as the movie shows, the world around them is still having trouble dealing with racial differences?

RC: I don’t know that no one notices the differences. I think we’re presenting a reality where those conversations have been had already. That melting pot does not happen without a ton of talks about it. That’s why I think a lot of the conversations that do happen on screen happened a few steps into the conversation. We assume that any place that has gotten to a point where these are the kinds of relationships that are around didn’t skip forward and get to something like racial harmony. The world is not there, but they’ve had those conversations or some degree of those conversations with each other. It’s not like Miles and [his wife] Ashley have never talked about the fact that she’s black and he’s not; they’ve definitely had that conversation.

DD: I’m mixed, a ton of my friends were mixed. By virtue of being mixed I’ve almost never dated somebody who was of the same race as me in a relationship, so growing up that wasn’t a thing. That was normalized to a degree that nobody batted an eye about it and so I didn’t know until I left that that it would be a thing anywhere else and I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand any of the hang-ups with it. I felt like we were having a discussion that I was born already having had and it was pressuring in me in a certain sense but I think the fact that communities exist under the fact that people are able to interact in a lot of ways within a community has really nothing to do with what’s happening in the country on a grand scale.

One of the themes of the film is the struggle with gentrification of the neighborhoods.

DD: I think it’s natural to be fearful of somebody literally taking your resources and removing you from them. That is what’s happening to a lot of the folks in that community it’s what’s happening to Miles and Colin. The [expensive] green juice [suddenly showing up in the store to appeal to the hipster community] isn’t the problem; the fact that it is reasonable for the green juice to be priced at $10 leads you to beg the question of who is that for and why did it never exist before we started seeing these new people coming in. It’s not like nobody in this neighborhood has been health-conscious before. Val [Collin’s ex] loves going to SoulCycle and she’s so excited that that is part of this community now. She uses it all the time but it didn’t exist until very recently and the thing that comes along with its existence are raised rents and a difference in policing. Police are being called to events that they would not normally be called to. That recent story about “barbecuing while black” is this beautiful example of where here is something that’s been happening in the same place for over a decade every weekend and because the neighborhood changed, somebody called the police on it, on a bunch of black people just having a barbecue.

[...] One of the things I loved about the film was the range of tone. You’ve got just outright funny stuff, you got very heightened stuff, you’ve got very realistic drama. Did anybody push back on you and say “hey pick a lane?”

DD: We heard that early on a little bit, but I think philosophically for us we wanted to portray the Bay area honestly. It had to be in the DNA of the film so it wasn’t just swinging wildly it was actually intentional. This is how we all laugh one second and cry the next and I think that is not Bay Area specific. I’ve never felt one thing at a time. Nobody has. We are often pushed in art to focus on one thing, to mine all of the available material out of one lane. For us to try in order to be true to life as we could which was the premise of us making this film I couldn’t find a way to do that.

RC: That tonal specificity is a fear-based constraint of studios, not a capacity of the audience. Our job is to push the medium. We don’t just want to make a film within a medium; we want to move the medium. The excitement was to go, “Well, the great news is we didn’t go to film school. We don’t know any of those rules. All we know is honesty.”

What is it about hip-hop that makes it so vital a part of today’s expression?

RC: Heightened language is just the mechanism that tells you how important information is. It is an attractive thing to listen to that functions the same way that musical theater does. When a feeling or idea crosses over to be too emotional to just talk about it, something elevates, so you sing. You could put it in the hip-hop bucket but that’s just songs and poetry and it predates all of that. There is a cadence to the way in which we use hip hop, as well as the concept of disenfranchised communities using verse to shout from the mountaintop when they’re not being listened to otherwise. But the idea of verse as a way to elevate language has been in the arts since the arts began. So I think we both were allied on the very contemporary mechanism that has its roots in something that has a very feeling mechanism which was creating dense and beautiful language to tell you what’s important about the moment.

#blindspotting #rafael casal #daveed diggs

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violetosprey · 6 years

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TDDUP My thoughts on Aria

Doing one of these for each of the 5 stars in TDDUP (yes, even the ladies). This is incredibly subjective, so I decided not to call this a review. Rant sounds too negative to me, it’s more a mix of gushing and analysis here. Anyways, MAJOR SPOILERS ahead because I may talk about stuff not revealed until the very end of a play through. In fact I’m probably going to talk in a way that just assumes the person reading this has completed TDDUP. Kinda like, “Oh I won’t give the whole story of this scene because you know what I’m talking about.” Without delay, let’s talk about Aria.

Alright, I’ll get right to the point on this one: Aria scares me. In the BTD series and TDDUP, there are a lot of scary characters who do horrible things. And honestly, I’ve been pretty good with all the characters. I kind of think of it at times like when I went to see the new 2017 “It” movie. The only thing that scared me in that film were the brief jump scares. The rest of the time, it was just exciting to watch (gets your adrenaline pumping). I loved the movie! I definitely would not categorize it as anything but horror, but I was having fun watching the events unfold. It’s not like the subject matter is light-hearted either. So I guess I kind of always thought of the BTD and TDDUP characters like that.

You know that disclaimer about the beginning of these games though? The one that mentions “This game was built to thrill,” and “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, close the game and take a break?” Aria is the ONLY character in the entire series the made me physically take a break from the game to get my composure back. I could not go back to her route or the game at all for several hours (and this was when I was all hyped up after the release). These games are a choice to do and I really encourage people to take their time and not push their boundaries to an area that’s beyond their comfort level.

I did manage to recover and actually got all of Aria’s endings. But I don’t think I will ever be able to play her route again. It’s funny, we’ve had endings and characters involving snuff films, getting your head sawed off, being burned alive, getting ripped apart, having your soul stolen, getting turned into a living doll, getting shot, being dismembered, being left to die alone in a creepy forest, being forced to eat yourself, getting eaten (which happens more often than you think in these games), being boiled alive, being beaten to death, being chained up, being forced to observe necrophilia, being mind broken, being caged, and having insects put in your ears just to name a few. All that stuff? Been fine with. The endings for me have ranged from being “meh” to “oooh that was so dark I love it.” Not to mention I start to embarrassingly even gush over some characters (especially a certain yandere *sweats*).

But go figure that the one person to freak me out, is not only one of the completely human characters, but probably the one who...is the least threating honestly. There is no way Aria could take on ANY of the other cast with the exception of maybe Ellen (only because...I don’t know who’d win in a fight, they’re really different).

First off, I guess I need to say what DOESN’T bother me about Aria before anyone starts to think anything: the incest angle. To be perfectly honest, I feel pretty neutral about her having feelings for her brother. Actually from a story standpoint it kind of helps a little better for her to have that to explain why she goes so far. Because when I think about it, if she didn’t have those forbidden feelings, she’d come off as overprotective of her brother still yes...but I think this gives her character a better dark edge believe it or not. Incest in real life, not a fan of. Incest in fiction though I have a different view entirely. I have both shipped incest pairings, as well as cringed and nearly vomited at them in fiction. The problem is I can’t distinguish what causes me exactly to ship or hate an incest pairing. I’ve tried to write the notes down, but there’s really no consistent criteria. All I know is it STRICTLY depends on the the characters themselves and I think how it affects the story. In this case, I don’t really feel like Aria and Chris would make a good pair, but I think Aria having feelings for Chris gives her more character.

So then what does bother me? One ending. ONE ending out of all five shook my core and made me legitimately afraid of this character: “Aria walled you in.”

It’s weird because I’m not claustrophobic, though I do cringe at the thought of someone sewing a person’s mouth shut. But this ending really managed to get under my skin and I had to think for awhile why exactly. Horror is indeed meant to scare you, and I finally found something that did scare me in these games. But it not only scared me, but disturbed me.

I think the key here is the entire scenario for the route. Remember, the MC in Chris’s path is a verbally abusive spouse, and Aria is a VERY mad sister-in-law. She’s there to give you your comeuppance. So while Chris was violent, Aria tortures you while keeping you in her basement. MC starts to realize towards the end of the path that what they’ve done to Chris is wrong, and they want to make things right. The thing is though when you look at all of Aria’s endings...she never planned to let you redeem yourself from the very start. The only ending where she doesn’t kill you...she sells you (fun fact: I actually liked this ending because it’s a tie in to Gurobob’s “The Hunt” game for the future- so cool!). Chris in his endings, if he doesn’t get furious and kill you...either leaves you alone (sometimes even turns HIMSELF in) or you compromise. This is what makes Chris a good person (just the violent snap was a bad decision).

However, I think the kicker with the ending where Aria walls you in, is the fact that you hear Chris and her talking upstairs. You’re listening to him moving on without you and the two of them laughing happily. Meanwhile, your mouth is sewed up, and you’re left trapped in the walls of the basement. Aria’s not coming back to torture you. As far as she’s concerned, it’s better if you just disappear. So you have to spend the rest of your days, unable to scream, unable to move, listening to Chris and Aria live happily without you there. You can never apologize to Chris. Inevitably you’ll die of starvation and/or dehydration.

This ending doesn’t just scare me for the claustrophobia and the “I have no mouth but I must scream” trope; It’s disturbing because it’s also very sad. Someone finally told you off for your behavior all those years, gave you your punishment, and then you are left to die. And this is where you have to ask the question: Did the MC indeed deserve this fate? It’s actually a question that scares me to think about because I’m not sure I know the answer to it. Is it pretentious to think that I as the MC would be entitled to fix my mistakes after years of abuse to Chris? Or is there indeed a limit to how far a person like Aria should go when someone has hurt their loved one?

I think the key here is WHO is giving you punishment: Chris vs. Aria. You have Chris, who has been the victim in all of this and is a very sweet guy. He gets violent when he snaps, but can realize his mistake later. Aria is not the direct victim here but a sister who cares very deeply to her brother (too deeply even). Of course most people like Aria would want to smack Chris’s spouse in the face. But is she entitled to kidnap and torture you? I don’t know...The problem here is I actually don’t know all that much about Aria as a character. She loves her brother a lot, and she helped Marcus out with his divorce because he was a friend of Chris’s. So she’s good and loyal to some. She’s also incredibly smart. Beyond that though, how does Aria even act around the average every day person? Is she like Marcus, who is “generally” a good person and a good cop, just one minor flaw (his obsessive love with MC). Or is Aria actually more of a cruel, even sadistic, person naturally? That’s not stuff we learn about, so it really makes me wonder if she’s the type of character that deserves to torture you.

When all is said and done though, I need to thank ElectricPuke here. Of course Aria scares me legitimately and she’s my least favorite character in the series because of it. But I’m really glad she’s there actually. Listen, these are all FICTIONAL characters. No one needs to really get up in arms about who likes what kind of dark material as long as it’s enjoyed in a safe manner (and the atrocities are not replicated in real life). As long as people know their own boundaries and don’t push others into something they don’t enjoy, everyone can coexist peacefully. Creating a villain character doesn’t making you a villain either (If it does, we might need to keep an eye on Stephen King :P). There was a tiny part of me going through these games though that wondered “Gee, there’s a lot I let slide in fiction. Is this still sane or healthy?” So when Aria actually spooked me, I felt better. It’s good to know that yes, I do have limitations. They’re not easily apparent, and this game caught me off guard by the scenario. But it’s nice to see I can recognize a stopping point for myself.

Please be respectful then to people who say “Character A in TDDUP I love, but I’m afraid of Character B.” Everyone has their own tastes and their own thresholds. Sometimes for reasons they can’t even explain. By the way, I’d bet good money that Jack freaked out the most people for his hobby :P

So yeah if you read this post vs. the one I wrote about Marcus...completely opposite ends of the spectrum here, haha. Also like Marcus, I’m not sure if I can probably judge if Aria is a good character or not because I’m so afraid of her. I don’t hear people talk about Aria or Ellen as much as the guys, so I don’t know what the general public thinks either. I’d be curious if people actually liked Aria and thought she stuck it to the MC well, or if people got creeped out like I did.

For any future games likes these, just remember to watch the warnings guys! Enjoy yourself, but don’t push yourself. I’m still looking forward to more of Puke’s character’s for sure.

Only one more character to go now!

#own post #credit source material to owner #electricpuke #tddup #aria king #horror

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