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writer-akihiko · 3 years

Note

so mc running away i love it the angst 👌 so if its alright can you the same but with the dorm leaders?(pls do a good ending my poor heart cannot take it-༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Dorm Leaders + MC Running Away

So I apologise for the lack of happy endings, if you want to call it that. The scenarios turned out much more different than the First Years probably because of the power gap I had in mind. Also, for anyone wondering, the Vice Dorm Leaders will have a shot of saving you next! When I get to it... Cut for length. Also please help to share because I limited the tags!

Warnings: Character Death [Not you or the main boy], mentions of abuse and emotional manipulation [On the Reader] and violent actions [The Dorm Leaders]

"I'm not going back."

"Wh... What?" He was astonished. "YN... I've looked far and wide for you- please-"

No words left his mouth as you stepped away from him, tears in your eyes and you were going to make a run for it again.

Malleus Draconia

Your words struck a chord in him. He didn't mean it, but when you said that you weren't going back, he almost lost control. What did you mean you weren't going back? You promised him to be his Queen!

No... he's not accepting this. His Queen deserved better. His larger hands encircled your wrists, stopping you in your tracks. No matter how much you tugged and pushed, Malleus' strength was beyond you. In your sole despair, you fell in his embrace.

Every ache and injury struck your core, as you cried your heart out. "I can't go back Malleus," you whimpered. "I... I'm sorry."

Your hands gripped tighter onto his clothes. "I don't mean to fight against you, I-"

The Fae Prince sealed your bruised lips with his own, pulling your smaller form into his lap as he took in the moment of the bittersweet, longing kiss. "YN... listen to me," He said, his own ice cold tears falling onto your cheek, healing your wounds. "You never have to apologise for your suffering. Not even to me."

Malleus held you close as you drowsed off. The gentle smile hardened into a growl, as his back arched, black wings bursting out of his body. Malleus, in his dragon form, summoned the thorns to protect you, holding you as if you were his personal dragon hoard…

The principal, or more accurately the culprit, Dire Crowley was a fool to step out. It disgusted Malleus to his very core, his claws setting the very ground on fire as Crowley stepped closer. No words were exchanged between them. For all the suffering you faced, it was to be paid in tenfold as the dragon took a deep breath, releasing the fire in his chest.

"It was a fraction of her suffering…"

Riddle Rosehearts

He was ballistic. Riddle had been eager to bring you back immediately, but the sheer refusal and attempt to run away made him think that you hate him. He was blaming himself, sobbing to the ground.

Riddle's breakdown made you stop. No matter what you did, you still love him. Riddle's hiccups of sobbing paused at the feeling of your arms wrap around him. He wanted this, he wanted your warmth, he wanted- no… he needed you so badly he'd ceased to function without you.

"I don't hate you Riddle," You said, kissing his tears away. Your pretty Queen of Hearts had ruined the uniform he so proudly kept up with and Riddle himself was unkempt. Riddle cradled your sore body, letting you tell him your stresses and your breaking point abused over and over again by Crowley.

Riddle's heart softened ever so much for you, as he realised that he was to a fault as well. It was then he started to cry for you. "YN… I… I lost control. I know I can't be forgiven for the stress you went through so-"

"Rosehearts! You found her, how wonderful!" The jovial Principal cried out. In his hand was a magic tracking spell and that's when Riddle was struck with guilt once more. He doomed you, again. He… no, he refuses to end it this way.

Your loving self became meek, frightened by the aspect of being under Crowley's care once more. You trembled, reaching out to the hem of Riddle's coat. "Riddle… Please don't let them take me…"

He pulled you up, whispering to you. "When I cast my magic, run YN."

"Ridd-"

"Never thought you'd defy me, Rosehearts. Being a law abider and all~"

"Off With Your Head."

Kalim Al-Asim

"Y-YN?"

Kalim desperately hung onto your ankle, on his knees, begging and bargaining you to stay.

"YN… Please don't leave me again," He begged. "I'll… I'll stop dragging you to parties! I'll get you anything you want just please… please come back to me."

His tears wet your foot, as his grip left light marks on your ankle. Kalim never meant to harm you. He was so desperate to make you stay, but in his heart, he knew that he didn't have the strength to keep you with him if you desired to leave.

"How could you think that?!" You cried out. You stooped to Kalim's level, tackling him in hug so hard that he crashes to the ground. "I… I'd never leave you if I had the choice! I couldn't stand NRC anymore…"

You sobbed into Kalim's chest, wondering when it'd all end. You could never refuse Kalim, but what about everyone else? What about Crowley? Your spine shivered at the monster's name, wanting everything to disappear except for you and Kalim.

Kalim didn't know what to do. He didn't understand why Crowley would do such a thing to you. If Crowley was causing you such pain… He'd just have to get rid of the problem. You only deserve the best, after all. It's not his fault, nor is it yours.

You had cried yourself to utter exhaustion. Kalim gently wrapped you up in his jacket, cradling you to his chest. As if clockwork, Crowley appeared to the heartwarming scene, simply glad that you were going to be returned.

"Al-Asim, Dire should patch her up nicely-"

"No."

Crowley coughed. "What was that?"

"I said no," Kalim reiterated. "I have no reason to listen to you…"

"Since YN and I aren't your students anymore."

Azul Ashengrotto

How grateful he was to find you near the water. He almost turned red at the thought of you willing to search for him. Azul never thought you'd long for him this way, but you knew him, and you knew him well.

As if on cue, you looked beyond the trees to see your beloved, running from the sandy shores barefoot to be caught by your precious Azul. Azul doesn't have the best reflexes, trying to catch you without hurting you.

Azul took one good look at you, and the sight was enough to make him cry. Messy hair, cuts and bruises littering your skin possibly from running through the rocky forest, feet with sores from rocks… and tearful, sorrowful eyes.

Not an inch of sadness deserved to touch you. That was one of his core beliefs. He didn't say anything to prompt you to tell about what you'd been suffering. He knew. He knew every line of the story, and it made him ever so guilty that it led to this. If he just paid more attention to you, or at least try to.

Azul offered you everything. An ear to listen and his body for comfort, with his arms wrapping about you. If the simple action was enough for your forgiveness, he'd do it over and over again.

It was for a moment Azul held you, before running the water with you in tow. From the forest emerged the tweels, but what was behind you made you scream. Crowley, with his magic, retaliating against the twins' magic.

Azul wrapped you around his tentacles, drifting further into the ocean with you. He bent down to whisper in your ear. "YN, close your eyes. Don't look."

You shut your eyes tight as you did, hiding yourself in Azul's chest, away from the scene.

"May we never see you again, Crowley."

Azul and the twins in their merforms plummet into the ocean, deep down where Crowley would never come to touch you.

Idia Shroud

He wasn't surprised that the huge robot scared you. It was his secret project after all. He immediately let himself out of the robot, but he was hesitant to step into the forest. Idia was scared, but he still had to protect you!

"Y-YN..."

"Idia!..."

You stopped running, seeing your boyfriend pop out of the robot. Idia was quick to get over his reluctance as his panic shifts to your injuries instead. He wanted to cry out of joy from the mere chance of finding you.

Idia tried to treat your wounds as best as he could with the emergency kit conveniently equipped [he really did think of everything] although his wrapping technique was unkempt at best.

Idia's attempts to heal you made you forget of all the suffering. You couldn't help but laugh, realising how much you missed Idia. He knew that you needed this time. Oh, how he wanted to whisk you away...

But he might as well. You're his, right?

Crowley didn't get close to reaching you. Idia thought of it all. He tracked every move the principal made, fooling Crowley to think that Idia was with you the entire time, with the tracking device that Crowley so faithfully gave him.

"How desperate... it's honestly funny..." Idia scoffed at the idea of Crowley getting to you.

With the S.T.Y.X androids, Idia confronted Crowley, who was in sheer confusion.

"Crowley… burn in hell."

Leona Kingscholar

Leona didn't hold back. He couldn't believe you would say such a thign to him… The only conclusion he reached to was that you hated him. You hated his very core, just like everyone else… He was scared. It frightened him to the core that after everything he did, you still hated him.

"YN… stop fucking around with me," He said, grabbing onto your wrist. He wasn't about to throw a tantrum then and there. He had to get things straight. "Hey… tell me. Was I just a waste for you?"

"W-What are you talking about Leona?" You pushed against his chest, trying to get some distance but Leona was way stronger than you. The lion couldn't listen to reason. He simply went on about how you must've hated him, and how much you despised him.

"Did I mean nothing to you, YN?" Leona was shaking, his shoulders trembling from the mere thought of hearing those words.

You wrapped your arms around Leona, pulling him in close. "I never did… How dare you think that you stupid lion?!" You said, sobbing your heart out. You were equally hurt, but you never once thought Leona would think such a thing.

The emotional reunion was interrupted by the principal himself, pretending to be moved by such a scene. The false pretense of safety caught on to you, and you were sent into a panic, clinging onto Leona for fear of your life.

"I hate you!" You yelled, your body crumpling to the ground just as Leona caught you. "I hate you, I hate you. I don't want to go back, don't make me!"

If you were to scream anymore, you might collapse from exhaustion. Leona was quick to carry you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, where you were comforted by his heartbeat.

"Hoi, good for nothing principal," Leona called out, a single claw drawn out, igniting his Unique Magic.

"Move before I turn you to sand."

Vil Schoenheit

He was stunned to see you in such a state. He called out for you, and you stopped in your tracks. Was he that incompetent that he can't keep you with him? Did he not treat you right? Was his mere presence just torture for you?

Vil couldn't keep it in anymore. He needed to know. "YN… why won't you come back? Tell me, is it my fault? Am I not worthy of you?!"

The once prideful queen fell into shambles of insecurity as his mind won't stop painting images of you walking away from him, of you calling him your doom, of him being your captor… No, he didn't mean it…

"Was I the villain in your story?! WAS I?!"

Vil had never cried as much as he did. He needed to know that you didn't of him as a nuisance. He really was worthless if he made you feel unwanted… so please, he needed an answer.

"How could you think that, my love?"

You stooped to Vil's level, brushing away the tears that ruined his makeup with your very hands. Oh, your poor Vil… You were too selfish, thinking of your own suffering. With Vil in your arms, you felt whole once again. You gave Vil your actual answer, relenting every moment of your stress that stemmed from Crowley.

Oh… how his sweet potato must've suffered. Vil had a stuck of guilt, considering that he was under an Overblot as well. No matter, he had to make things right. For your sake, for his love's sake.

"YN, Crowley is trying to find you. But I… I have to set things right," He said, pulling you up.

The rustle of leaves had you on guard as from it came Dire Crowley, revelling in the scene.

"Schoenheit. You are supposed to bring LN YN to me immediately as I ordered."

Vil for once scared you. It scared you how enraged he was, and your heart wrenched at seeing the ink droplets by his hand.

"Vil, don't you dare-"

He turned back to you, whispering for you to run to Rook's safety. "Don't cry, my love."

You tried to hold the tears once again as you saw Vil shifting forms to an ink-like mess, this time his rage directed at Crowley. You could only run away, praying in your heart that Vil was safe.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #twst angst #twst dorm leaders #twst azul #twst idia #twst kalim #twst malleus #twst leona #twst vil #twst riddle #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #kalim al asim #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts

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jisungscaramel · 3 years

Text

dare | han

❀ genre; smut, a little fluff, best friends au ❀ pairing; han jisung x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2k

[warnings] explicit sexual content, oral, unprotected sex (be safe y’all), (mild) edging, cockwarming, saucy truth or dare

The intangible friction between you and your best friend was undeniable, yet with conviction, you held this idea that it was all in your head, and instead of fleshing out the inkling of frustration you felt every time you’d hang out, you chose to ignore it.

You chose to ignore the way he’d press his palms into the small of your back when he’d pull you close, the way he’d keep your body tight on his when he’d hug you, the way you’d catch his curious stares, the way his eyes seemed to send endless subliminal messages.

You chose to ignore the way the butterflies would flutter in your chest whenever that physical contact was made, the desire that would pool in the pit of your stomach whenever your wordless gazes collided.

You chose to ignore it.

Until today.

Honestly, you couldn’t say if he was on the same wavelength as you but as soon as he said these words on what you perceived to be a usual Netflix date (hold the chill), you were definitely suspicious: “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You knocked him on the head. “Han Jisung, you know there’s only two of us here… right?”

He blinked at you innocently and rather cutely, as if he couldn’t see the correlation between your questions. “Yes… you’re point?”

You clicked your tongue, sinking back into the worn in leather couch with your arms crossed. “Have you ever played truth or dare with just one other person? I sure as fuck haven’t.”

He rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly exasperated manner. “No, but I don’t recall there ever being a rule saying you can’t.”

“But,” you turned to him to put on your best puppy dog face… which was mediocre at best but a valiant attempt, “don’t you wanna watch Avatar? We’re almost done with Book 2.”

“We watched it already… 4 times actually… in the past month.”

“Yes… your point?” you wrinkled your nose, repeating his previous words.

“Let’s do something different for a change.”

You turn the television off. “Ok fine,” drawing out the latter word as if it were stuck on your tongue.

Next thing you knew, he was constricting your body with his limbs, happily rubbing his cheek on yours like a child. “Yee!” and then all of sudden, he was sitting back, deadpan, folding his arms with determination. “Truth or dare?”

“Hmmm truth.”

And then that small child was back. “What? Why? That’s no fun!”

You shrugged. “You wanted to play truth or dare, remember? Emphasis on truth.”

“Fine, is it true that you hooked up with someone in the library?”

“Ji, I already told you that story.”

“I know, but it was so wild that I didn’t really believe you. Now you have to tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think I’d be any less truthful otherwise? And also, what makes you think that I’d absolutely tell you the truth now if I was possibly lying before?”

He widened his eyes and flared his nostrils in a rather comical manner. “If you can lie during truth or dare, you must be satan.”

You stared at him rather blankly, speaking quite frankly, “that… made no sense.”

His lips pressed into a firm line. “It does; you just won’t admit it.”

You snickered, rolling your eyes. “Whatever… truth or dare”

“Dare, I ain’t no bitch.”

You smacked his shoulder - playfully. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he pouted, rubbing his shoulder. “Nothing… nothing at all.”

“I dare you to leave Felix a voice note confessing your love to him.”

He offered you a begrudging glare but he wordlessly unlocked his phone with no hesitation, opening his messages with his roommate. He lifted the end to his lips: “Oi Felix! I just wanted to let you know that I love you bro.” He smiled in satisfaction as he sent the note.

“That’s not what I meant!” you protested.

To which, he shrugged. “You didn’t specify what kind of love.”

Your hand made contact with your face in embarrassment. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you,” he placed his palms on his cheeks to squish them, “love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ok, truth or dare?”

“...Just to make you happy: dare.”

“Hmmm,” he bit his lip in contemplation, “what should I get you to do?” he gripped his chin.

“Please don’t make me eat wasabi. I almost burned my nose off that one ti-”

“I dare you to kiss me… on the lips.”

When you met his eyes, you expected the usual teasing glint, but you saw none. He was dead serious, and you felt the saliva thicken in your throat, forcing you to swallow a little harder than normal.

As if your body was moving on its own, you leaned forward toward Jisung, resting your hands on his shoulders, distance lessening an inch by every passing moment. You were only planning on giving him a peck, but it just felt more natural to slightly part and purse your lips into a proper kiss. As your eyes fell shut, your heart began trembling in its confines, rattling your spine - you just hoped it wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to you.

His plush peach lips were as soft as you imagined - though you’d never admit you’d been imagining it in the first place. And for a moment, maybe two, you passed through the mix of emotional signals, focusing instead on the physical, the subliminal body language: how his hands found themselves on your hips, how his lips occasionally broke the rhythm to tug on your lower lip, how he’d let out the softest groans every time there was a change in pressure.

But then you removed yourself from your physical position, remembering the mental position you were in, biting your lips and looking away, biting your lips as if you wanted to say something, but your words clung to your throat - so you cleared it. “...truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you want me to kiss you?”

His expression was serious - something you weren’t used to. He leaned back, folding his arms, lips parted, tongue smoothing over his teeth to graze the edge of his top lip. “Same reason why you couldn’t get your hands off me.”

You didn’t even have a moment to be dissatisfied with his answer. “Truth or dare?” there was a sultry tone to his voice, and although it was out of character for him, it was perfectly in line with the vibe he was giving in that moment.

“Dare.” The first time you’d chosen that, it was for no reason other than to spare yourself of Jisung’s complaints, but this time? Curiosity laced your tongue, wondering where he would take it next, if he would take it anywhere at all.

“Go down on me.”

You tugged on your lower lip with your teeth as a subtle smirk grew on your face. Of course, he would. You got down on the floor, kneeling in front of him.

You placed your palm over his crotch, feeling a stirring beneath the fabric of his jeans. “Are you gonna help me with this?” You prodded the top button with your index finger.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You’re a big girl.”

Challenge accepted.

The finger on his button flicked it undone, but you took your time pulling the zipper down. You were in no rush.

But he was.

You could tell from the slightest gestures: the way his back kept sinking back in the couch, the way his fingers kept combing through his hair, the way he hissed under his breath, the way his hips rolled up - if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed any of it.

When you finally took it upon yourself to free his personified frustration, you were taken aback, not because of his girth or the throbbing redness - although that was in the back of your mind. You were teetering on a metaphorical edge of your friendship. The kiss was one thing but now you were approaching the gate of no return. But you’d have plenty of time to worry about that later... and after the fact.

You let the lust shroud your head with its black clouds as you leaned in closer. You delicately ran the flat of your ring finger up his length while dragging your tongue down, eliciting an explicit gasp from him.

And he couldn’t help but squirm under you when you circled your tongue under the head, where he was the most sensitive.

Your lips secured around the tip, and you sunk them down as far as they could go, until they pressed firmly on his pelvis. The vulgar gurgling sound you inadvertently made while fighting your gag reflex only did more to stir his arousal.

“Fuck, since when were you this hot?”

You started bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollowing as a result of the increased suction. Every now and then, you’d slow down to trace his prominent veins with your tongue, and when you’d pick up your pace again, grunts and groans continuously trickled down his lips.

You wanted to smirk. Your nostrils flared as the corners of your lips lifted up as much as they could in their limiting position. You had to take your hands away from his hip and the base of his dick to place them behind your back just to show off.

When Jisung’s sounds became gruffer and more primal, you had an inlinking of what was to come. So, you stopped, smacking your lips with a loud pop.

“Truth or dare?” Desire poured from your half-lidded eyes, lacing your voice in a tone that sent electricity through Jisung’s nerves.

“...Dare,” he whispered, still heavily breathing.

You stood up. “Take your pants off and don’t move for the next five minutes… no matter what.”

He peered up at you with suspicious eyes, but did as you asked. His suspicion turned into surprise as you pulled your leggings and panty off in one motion, setting the garments on the ground.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice as you straddled him, gripping the back of the couch for support, aligning your now-dripping heat over his erection.

“Making,” you started lowering yourself, taking him in, “things more,” all in, “interesting.”

He threw his head back, “Fuck.”

“Remember,” you tapped your phone on the other side of the couch to see the time, “no moving for five minutes.”

“You’re so evil.” He glared at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you knew this already.”

“I didn’t-” his attempt to amend his statement was cut short when you attached your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses up its line, slowly, taking your time.

He held his breath when yours blew into his ear, heat searing his skin, and you could feel him twitch inside you.

“I’m gonna destroy you when my turn is up.”

You tapped his chin with your finger. “If you can manage to behave until then.”

“You think I can’t?”

“It’s not that I think you can’t… I just don’t think you can.” You waved your hips to increase the pressure between your connected skin, and you could tell he had to bite his tongue just to suppress a moan.

When your lips latched onto his neck, he gulped, staring at the clock at the other end of the room. He tried to fixate on the constant movement of the second hand, but his body had a different agenda, preferring to focus on how good your lips felt on his sensitive skin, how you alternated between sweet pecks and French kisses, hard sucking and soft nibbling.

He felt the heat radiating from his skin, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as a result of his attempt to hold himself back. He grit his teeth, frustration crippling his body; he was this close to caving, this close.

“Time.”

He bucked his hips up, gripping yours tightly. “Such a fucking tease.” But he still held back, keeping his pumping slow and steady. “Truth or dare?”

You crashed your body to match his tempo. “Truth.”

“Do you want it harder?”

“...Yes.”

><><><><><><><

A/N This one is also a reimagined version of a scenario I wrote for a different idol years ago

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Jongerrymartin but make it noir.

HI PIT. this was probably not what you were expecting, but hope you enjoy *jazz hands* this is current jongerry, pre-jgm

please let me know if i should tag anything!

Martin stared up at the faded gold lettering painted on the door, wiping a clammy palm against the fabric of his trousers. The other gripped his manila folder tightly, refusing to loosen his grip for even a second, not after all the trouble he’d gone through to get it.

Delano & Sims, the words read. Private Detectives.

He’d talked to one of them over the phone yesterday, a man with an achingly posh accent, who’d said to come at precisely fourteen hundred hours and not a moment later. That clipped, dry tone had almost been enough to scare him off, but...no, he needed this too much to run away.

Martin took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called, and he pushed inside.

The first thing he noticed were the swirls of cigarette smoke so thick that the weak light overhead glowed a thin silver. His eyes immediately began to water at the intensity of the smell, and he desperately wanted to bury his nose in his collar.

There was an exasperated sigh from one shrouded corner of the room, and then, “Christ—Jon, open the window, would you?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” There was a clatter as the blinds lifted, and then a solid thunk, and suddenly fresh air and natural light was pouring through the open window, throwing the room in stark relief.

“Sorry about that,” the man next to the window said, leaning heavily on a handsome wooden cane. He was just a wisp of a thing, dressed in a sweater vest like he was some sort of professional academic, with salt and pepper grey hair and dark, keen eyes. “Forgot we had someone coming.”

This must be the person I talked to over the phone, Martin realized. Sims.

“Do me a favor and try not to kill our clients, Jon.” He quickly turned to look at Delano—who else could it be?—who was stepping away from the fan now juddering to life, swirling the quickly dissipating smoke. It was almost startling how different the two partners were; where Sims was thin and short, Delano was tall and wiry, with inky black hair and cool, gunmetal eyes. The weathered leather trench coat and chunky boots had obviously seen some better days. “We need all the ones we can get.”

Martin’s face flushed as he was struck by how unfairly attractive these two people were.

“Duly noted,” Sims drawled, limping over to the heavy desk stacked high with papers. He set the cane aside and propped himself against it with a quiet sigh, then gestured toward one of the ratty looking chairs. “Take a seat, Mr. Blackwood.”

Martin shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, I don’t…”

“No need to stand on decorum, not around here.” Delano pointedly plopped into the chair behind the desk, grin wide and toothy. “Jon just likes to pretend that we’re more professional than we actually are.”

“We’re professional,” Sims protested, sounding deeply offended. “Just...unorthodox.”

“Well, alright,” Martin said, and lowered into the surprisingly comfortable chair.

Delano cleared his throat. “Right. So what brings you to us, Mr. Blackwood?”

Martin thought for a moment, not wanting to speak rashly, or to give away anything too personal. “Well, I’ve heard rumors that you two are capable of...discretion, so to speak, and I would prefer that this doesn’t get spread around.”

“Ah.” Sims’ eyes quickly flicked up and down his body, one eyebrow raising. “Out of curiosity, can I ask who referred you to us?”

“Tim Stoker?” Martin shuffled. “He said that you helped him out of a similar bind not too long ago.”

Sims and Delano glanced at each other, their eyebrows doing a complicated little dance, though what information could’ve been conveyed through such a medium, Martin had no clue. They turned to look at him again in unison, expressions very serious.

“When you say similar…” Delano trailed off.

Martin immediately shook his head. “Oh, nothing to do with the Circus. I’m not stupid enough to get involved with them after what happened with Tim and his brother.”

They both relaxed immediately.

“That’s good for you,” Delano told him. “We’ve run afoul of Nikola and her merry band far too many times for comfort. If you’d said you’d gotten on her bad side, I’m afraid we would’ve had to ask you to leave.”

Martin glanced at Sims, who was staring very hard at his feet, then Delano, who was observing him calmly, patiently, the way a bird of prey sights down a mouse. “Oh.”

“Quite,” Sims murmured.

“Anyway,” Delano gave a wide, grandiose gesture. “Please. Why have you come to us?”

The manila folder suddenly felt very, very heavy, and he fiddled with one of the corners, rubbing the material between his fingers. “Well...I work for this, um, this shipping company. I mostly do busywork, administrative tasks, that sort of thing. It’s not very glamorous, but it—it pays really well, despite the company being kind of small.” Martin traced the grain of the paper with one finger. “I think it handles a lot of….specialty items.”

“And the name of this company?” Sims asked, pen poised over the little notebook he’d appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Anxiety plummeted his stomach into his toes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel comfortable giving away that information.”

Delano’s eyebrows rose. “Discretion, remember? Besides, we’ll need to know if we’re going to be able to help you.”

“If we decide to help you,” Sims muttered.

Martin took a few fortifying breaths, swallowing the nausea down. “Right,” he murmured. “Right. It’s, um...Tundra shipping company? Run by Mr. Peter Lukas.”

Sims went very, very still, pen poised above his notebook, expression fixed like it’d been molded into his face. Delano loomed forward, the gunmetal of his eyes gleaming like the sun reflecting off of a loaded barrel. “Is that so?”

Martin glanced toward Sims, wondering at his demeanor, then turned back to Delano and nodded. “Yeah. You two—you know him?”

“Do we.” Delano let out a dry chuckle. “Continue.”

“Right.” Martin shook his head. “Well, one day I was doing some bookkeeping, just...routine stuff, you know? But I noticed something off with the numbers, like...really wrong. And I double checked my math several times just to make sure, but…” he swallowed. “I think that someone may be cooking the books, or...or something. I don’t know.

“Anyway, I went back the next day but the numbers had been changed, and—and Mr. Lukas called me into his office and said some really weird stuff that I think may have been a threat? It was hard to tell.” Martin shook his head, biting his lip. “There’s been other stuff, too. Contracts with companies that I know don’t exist, visitors at odd hours. I think something really rotten is going on, but I don’t think that I can handle it myself.”

Delano and Sims shared an unhappy look. Then Sims pushed away from the desk and began to circle the perimeter of the room, his eyebrows furrowing into a thunderstorm on his brow.

“We’d love to finally be able to pin something substantial on the bastard—on Lukas,” Delano said. “But insinuating those types of claims without a shred of evidence...that’s a nonstarter. We’re going to need a little bit more than that.”

“But I do have evidence?” Martin asked, lifting the manila folder. “I took photocopies of the pages, and notated where the discrepancies were.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wasn’t about to just write on official financial records. There’s also some of the weird contracts I was talking about. I kept copies of everything.”

Sims, who’d walked out of sight while Martin had been talking, suddenly appeared behind him, reaching for the folder. “Can I see?”

“Be careful with it, that’s the only copy,” Martin said nervously, but handed it over.

Sims walked back over to the desk, hopped up on the edge, and eagerly tipped the contents of the folder on the space between him and Delano. They quickly sifted through the papers, wordlessly handing things to each other like a seamless, well-oiled machine.

“This is good.” Delano’s voice was almost hushed, almost awed. “This is...really good, actually.”

“But you see why I can’t go to the police with this, right?” Martin twisted his hands fitfully. “You see why I need your help.”

“Of course not,” Sims said dismissively, though there was an eager gleam in his eyes. “The police are so deep in Lukas’ pocket you might as well have kissed your life goodbye if you’d gone to them.”

“Oh.” Martin swallowed, trying and failing to come up with anything more intelligent than that. “Oh.”

Delano drummed his fingers against the desk pensively. “Speaking of, it wouldn’t be a good idea to pursue this recklessly. We appreciate you bringing this to us, but it does put you in a significant amount of danger. Do you have friends or family outside the country you can stay with, Mr. Blackwood?”

“Um…” He had cousins in Poland, he was pretty sure. Whether or not they would take him in was another question entirely. “Possibly.”

Sims reluctantly gathered the papers up and slid them back into the manila folder, before holding it out. “Come back when you’ve got something lined up.”

Martin lifted a quelling hand as he got to his feet. “I’d...prefer you hold onto it, honestly. It’s probably safer with you.”

Sims blinked, then shrugged and set the folder back down. “I see.”

“We’ll be seeing you later, Mr. Blackwood.” Delano’s grin was a sharp, toothy thing. Despite its grimness, Martin found himself inexplicably comforted by it.

“Please,” he corrected before he could help himself. “Call me Martin.”

-0-

“So,” Gerry said, long after Martin had left and the excitement had faded. He filled a glass with some ice, then tipped a finger of whisky over the top. “What do you think?”

“I don’t trust him,” Jon said almost before Gerry had finished talking, accepting the glass with a quiet murmur of thanks. “It’s a bit too good to be true. After years of searching, someone just...emerges with hard evidence of Peter’s wrongdoings?” An incredulous snort. “I don’t think so.”

Gerry propped himself up against the edge of the desk, staring at the dark bags under his partner’s eyes, the cynical curve of his mouth. He looked exhausted. “You never know,” he said mildly, taking a sip of his whiskey sour before continuing. “I think we’re about due for a lucky break.”

“We don’t get lucky breaks. We get fooled into thinking that we have a lucky break, only to get royally fucked later,” Jon snapped, thumping his cane against the ground for emphasis. “You should know that by now.”

Gerry frowned. “Don’t take this out on me.”

Jon metaphorical hackles went up, and for a moment it looked as though he were about to start shouting—but then he abruptly deflated and looked away. “No, you’re right, it’s just…”

Gerry sighed. It was difficult to stay angry at Jon when he bore such a striking resemblance to a kicked puppy. “I get it.”

They fell silent for a moment, sipping their drinks, lost in their respective thoughts.

“Shall we go?” Gerry asked, setting his glass aside.

Jon paused for a moment longer, before letting out a long, gusty sigh and draining what was left in his drink. “Sure.”

The elevator was still broken, so unfortunately they had to take the stairs. While Gerry knew better than to offer any assistance, his heart still clenched at how tight with pain Jon’s jaw had gone by the time they reached the bottom. They stopped for a few seconds to let Jon get his breath back, before continuing toward home.

About a block away from the office, they froze at the sound of pounding footsteps growing unmistakably closer.

“Hear that?” Jon murmured out of the corner of his mouth, the dying light of the sun glinting off the switchblade in his free hand.

“Mmhm,” Gerry hummed, slipping a hand into his pocket.

Martin was very, very lucky that Gerry recognized him as he rounded the corner; otherwise, it was very likely that Jon would’ve run him through. As it was, Martin crashed into them both, gasping frantically for air, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with abject terror.

“Martin?” Jon demanded, shoving the switchblade away. “What the hell are you—”

“They’re after me,” Martin gasped out, scrabbling at Gerry’s coat. “They—I don’t know how they found out, but they, Peter, he—”

“Shit,” Gerry muttered, suddenly becoming aware of the second set of pounding footsteps growing nearer. He took a moment to assess their surroundings, before grabbing Martin’s shoulders and hauling him into the nearby alley. “Martin, hide behind that dumpster. Jon, distraction time.”

Despite the situation, Jon’s eyes lit up with an exhilarated gleam. Gerry had just enough time to fondly think, adrenaline junkie, before Jon tucked his cane over his wrist, twisted his hands in Gerry’s lapels, and shoved him against the wall for a bruising kiss.

Gerry gasped into Jon’s mouth, his hands instinctively falling to cup Jon’s slim hips. He deepened the kiss, humming encouragingly when Jon shoved his jacket over his shoulders, exposing the thin black t-shirt beneath.

Jon was just beginning to press little kisses down the juncture of his jaw and neck when the harsh beam of a torch fell on them. Jon, who’d been a drama queen long before he’d joined am dram in uni, pulled away with a theatrical gasp, his annoyance almost startlingly genuine. Gerry tucked his face out of the way and adjusted his jacket, affecting embarrassment.

“Do you mind?” Jon asked.

“Oh,” the person on the other end of the torch said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable. Gerry tried to peek a look, but the beam was too strong for him to see into the darkness beyond it. “Sorry to disturb you sirs, um...you wouldn’t happen to have seen a person—?”

“No, we haven’t seen a person.” Keeping one hand curled in Gerry’s jacket, Jon took a step back, lifting his chin defiantly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we were busy.”

“Right,” the person muttered, and then the torchlight abruptly vanished, dropping them once more into the dying light of the sun.

They stood there for a moment, Jon breathing hard, cheeks flushed. Gerry tipped his head back against the wall, letting his eyes flutter shut as his pumping heart slowed.

Then the grip in his collar loosened, and Jon let out a pained groan and sank against the wall. “Fuck.”

“Alright, take it easy,” Gerry murmured. He pressed a kiss against Jon’s hair and rubbed a soothing hand against his back. “You did beautifully.” Then louder, “Martin, you can come out now.”

There was a brief pause, and then a shadow tentatively emerged from behind the dumpster. Martin looked far less rattled than he had when he’d first run around the corner, though there was still a healthy flush to his cheeks. He peered up the alley, wringing his hands. “Are they…”

“For now,” Jon said, grimacing as he dug his knuckles into the tight muscles. “We should leave before they get back.”

Martin’s eyes honed in on him. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jon snapped, straightening. “You should be more worried about yourself. You can’t go home, right?”

The question seemed to remind Martin of the current situation, because his eyes went a little wild again. “No, they...I left to do a bit of shopping, and then came back and, and there they were.”

They fell silent for a moment, considering that.

“Well, there’s nothing for it,” Jon said brusquely. “You’ll have to come home with us.”

“What?” Martin gaped.

Gerry was already nodding. “We don’t have much room, but we can make up the couch for you.”

That only seemed to make Martin all the more aghast. “Wait! Wait, won’t that put you in danger?”

Gerry looked up and met Jon’s gaze.

“We have...a certain degree of protection,” Gerry hazarded delicately. “It won’t do much against the likes of Peter himself, but lesser threats…”

“You’ll be fine,” Jon completed. “Now unless you want to run into them again, we had better get going.”

Martin glanced mutely between them, looking like he wanted nothing more than to argue. Then his shoulders slumped, probably realizing that he had no other choice considering how dire the situation was.

“Alright,” he murmured, defeated. “Let’s go.”

#tma #ask #pitviperofdoom #iceeckos12 writes #my writing #jongerrymartin #noir au

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mego42 · 3 years

Note

I know it’s the writers fault, and I feel like this season rio is a different person than seasons 1,2 and even 3. But if I ignore my opinions on the writers and the odd choices they’ve made for him, and just watch the show as a normal viewer, rio is fucking pissing me off. Like all he had to do was tell Beth she was being followed. He made the mess. And he’s such a dick. Like at this point kill her or don’t. But this whole “Rio can’t hurt Beth/rio has love for her/brio love triangle” thing? Like nah I’m not seeing it. He’s being literally stupid for no reason.

i'm v sorry he's pissing you off and you’re super entitled to feel that way! but tbh, personally i don't totally agree that he's different or that he's being stupid for no reason (though, if you're not buying into the idea that he's genuinely into beth than yeah, i can v much see why you would feel that way, i think that's a p significant puzzle piece).

imo, the primary difference between the rio of s4 and the rio of previous seasons isn't in the character, but how much more context/insight/backstory we're getting for him. we’ve seen bits and pieces before, but they’ve been very sporadic (something that’s been a p consistent complaint since i joined the fandom) and i think s4 has really dug into shading rio’s character and backstory in with much more detail and depth than we’ve seen so far. i also think the show's p steadily developed the idea that he has some degree of genuine feeling for beth (and that they make him act rashly and stupidly) along the same pace.

putting the rest of this below the cut bc it got long and should you continue, do so with the caveat that i’m not here to change anyone’s mind, i’m just breaking down why i disagree.

in s1, rio was a p one-dimensional character (like, on paper he's basically a walking first page google search result for "mexican gang banger stereotypes") and it's a testament to how much manny brought to his performance and the way he sparks with his scene partners (particularly christina and jim) that he came across so engagingly and elevated the character far enough that people so easily overlook that. over the course of s2, they peeled back the curtain a little bit and rounded him out more in ways that (imo and ymmv) really efficiently counteracted that stereotypical portrayal like introducing marcus, being softer with beth, and the different faceted glimpses of him we saw through his personal and business spaces (the club, his loft and bar). in terms of his feelings, while a lot of the softness with beth was him working an angle, we still caught glimpses that hinted at something real developing in his reactions to her that either served no purpose for keeping her in line (the way the camera lingered on his face falling in 209 after beth had turned away and couldn't see him) or, most significantly imo, doing things for her that actively undermined his authority (retrieving!!!!!!!! the!!!!!!!!!! dubby!!!!!!!!!!!!).

and speaking of 209, we also saw him react in increasingly more irrational and outlandish ways (ignoring her calls/texts about the fbi closing in on a business he’s somewhat tied up in, sending her body parts in the mail, kidnapping her) in reaction to beth quitting him, underscoring both the idea that 209 (and beth) meant something to him and that he gets real dramatic and questionably intelligent when he’s in his feelings.

there's nothing to really say any of this was a swerve from s1 bc s1 left p much everything on the table. s3 built that out a bit more both in terms of what we know about him (thinking specifically of fitz's rundown of what he gets up to when beth's not around) and his feelings for beth (how he handled the wake of 213 was, uh, illuminating and it’s been made even more illuminating with the context s4 added with nick’s involvement in rio’s business and the fact that nick knew nothing about lucy).

s4, to me, is building on all of that (see the above comment about the new layer of context to lucy and repeat, for one). we’ve met his family (who they’ve already hinted he’s very close to through the photos in his loft), we’ve found out how he got involved in crime in the first place (and i've seen criticism of the tragedy aspect of it and how that disproportionately applies to characters of color and that’s super valid, though i do think there’d also be a lot of valid criticism if they’d gone the opposite route and written rio as knowingly and gleefully deciding to be a criminal. the show kind of put itself in an impossible position there, but that’s something that goes back to s1 and the entire concept of his character. i’m not saying there isn’t a nuanced way to tell this story but, i don’t think anyone in the fandom would argue the gg team doesn’t often do so well with narrowly threaded needles, hahaha), and we’ve also seen that rio’s got some kind of big, complicated feelings for beth that result in him making moves and choices that both are and aren’t in his best interest/at her expense and the dichotomy is sloppy bc, as established, those kinds of feelings make rio sloppy.

honestly, i think one of the biggest reasons rio’s deepening characterization is so controversial is bc by holding off for so long (a choice that i admire conceptually from a storytelling angle—keeping him shrouded in mystery keeps the audience firmly rooted in the girls’ POVs which is where they want us to be—but v understand how it hasn’t worked for a lot of people and do think they’ve fumbled it at a couple of key steps), it allowed people to sort of choose their own rio and now that the show’s committing to their vision, it’s demolishing a lot of people’s personal versions and that sucks! if the show ever canonically says rio and mick haven’t been friends since they were kids, i, for one, am going to elect to ignore it bc FALSE!!!!!! but this phenomenon is also, you know, part of watching tv. someone else writes it, you ultimately have no say in it, you can really only decide for yourself when it no longer sparks joy enough that it’s a dealbreaker and you walk.

BUT yeah, i guess to wrap it all up, i do think s4 rio tracks with and has been directly built on the rios that have come before, but also think that accepting that he has big messy feelings for beth is a crucial part in understanding the choices he’s making, and if that’s not working for you, i don’t see this trajectory ultimately being v satisfying bc uh, yeah, i think it’s only going to get exponentially messier as we go.

#MY B THIS GOT LONG #i know i talk a lot of shit about rio but that's bc gently roasting is my love language #and i really do love him and think a lot about him #i mean imo you have to to satisfyingly write his pov #which i hope i do #at least somewhat #ANYWAY #rio good girls #nbc good girls #i refuse to start a meta tag #gg spoilers #i mean not really but it's fresh after an ep so just being safe i guess

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cicada-bones · 3 years

Note

Could we get a snippet of The Warrior and The Wildfire please?

Hi! so first of all im so sorry for leaving this in my inbox unanswered for like 2 months, second of all i have graduated!!!! So now ive got some free time!!!! Extra long snippet for you guys as a treat (and perhaps a bit of a bribe lmao) for being so patient and nice to me ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Rowan spent the better part of dinner trying to convince Aelin to say something, anything, about what their next step was. How he could help, what she was doing with the money she get from the bank that day, even just what she planned for them tomorrow morning.

But Aelin just smiled that pretty smile of hers, and munched on a spare bit of toast. Apparently, all she could cook was breakfast. Rowan had to keep himself from smiling, and remembering all the ruined meals she had made back at Mistward. Those few nights they had spent around the fire, beneath the trees. He really should have tried harder to teach her how to cook.

Rowan would never regret coming to Rifthold, even though it had been against her direct orders. But he wished he could spirit her away from here, from this dank city, crawling with people and shrouded in the scent of monsters. Wished he could be back in the wild again, where the air felt clean and open all around him. Where his magic wasn’t crushed deep within him, so tightly that it made his skin crawl.

He had slowly gotten used to the feeling, though it was still uncomfortable. And every now and then, tremors would still wrack his muscles, making him shiver in discomfort. But they were getting less and less.

He could adapt, he could endure.

Aedion kept silent through most of his cajoling, either still nursing a grudge from their fight this morning, or already accepted it as a lost cause.

Aelin had decided to keep them in the dark, and Rowan would just have to figure out how to live with it. He just wished that he could explain to her that she didn’t need to bear this burden on her own, that the reason he was here wasn’t only because he wanted to be. She deserved help, and so much more than he could offer her.

So once again, they separated after dinner, Aedion moving into his bedroom while Aelin pulled Rowan into hers. Again, he grumbled as she insisted that he share her bed, but he put up far less resistance than he knew he should.

Aelin went to wash her face in the bathroom, and Rowan turned to the window, stripping off his weapons and extra clothing. It was dark in the bedroom, so he knew no one could see in. But still, he scanned the nearby streets and rooftops, watching and listening for anything untoward.

Of course, he didn’t notice anything. But when had Lorcan ever been known to leave a trace?

Rowan sighed and turned to slide between Aelin’s cloud-soft sheets, forcing down the guilt that pooled in his stomach. He knew it was a mistake to let her get so close, to let their scents get even more tangled up in each other. But he just couldn’t help it.

It was an inexpressible comfort, to have her so close, almost wrapped in his arms. It made him settle, feeling the undeniable truth of her safety.

Or it would settle him, if she wasn’t so insistent on provoking him with her scandalous clothes every night.

This time, the nightgown was a delicate blue. The soft silk hem stroked over the tops of her breasts like petals, and those paper-thin straps barely held the dress in place on her shoulders.

So narrow, so light, so easily brushed out of place –

Rowan shook himself, barely keeping his gaze from dragging down further, and glimpsing what awaited below. But that meant he couldn’t miss the brazen confidence of Aelin’s smile. As if she knew he was fighting a battle doomed to loss.

Aelin slipped into place beside him in bed, the silk billowing over her chest as she turned on her side to face him. “So, what do you think? Pink, or blue? Personally, I’m more fond of the pink, but I figured I’d test this one out, see where your preferences might lie.”

Rowan just clenched his jaw, scowling at her.

Aelin laughed at him.

···

Within a few moments, she was asleep, her breathing calm and even, eyelids fluttering with night visions. But once again, Rowan lay awake. Trying in vain to calm his blood.

It kept seeming to get worse and worse, more and more difficult. He had wanted her in Wendlyn, during those many nights they had spent together in the fortress. But his ties to Maeve had kept the desire in check for him. He had wanted her during those nights they had traveled together back from Doranelle, especially that first night, the night he had given her that tattoo. But abstaining, keeping himself and what he wanted in check, hadn’t been so difficult.

Now, it felt like trying to move mountains with his bare hands.

And seeing that ghost of Lyria today, seeing that remnant, that reminder of her, it had pulled all of his fear and doubt right back into place.

Hearing Lyria in his head again, those screams of agony…it had been far more complex than just pain. There was so much guilt there. And not that old, familiar guilt of his unforgivable failure. It was new guilt. Fresh and hot and roiling in his stomach.

The guilt of having fallen for another. And seeing Lyria, or at least this facsimile of her, and not being cleaved in two, not being rent through with agony – had him stunned in place. Unable to move.

Not with pain, but with shame. It was only the echo of a remembered hurt, one he had held on to for far, far too long. But one that Rowan knew he should still be holding on to. One that he knew should weigh on him until his deathday. And it honestly scared him more than he could admit, scared him senseless, scared him motionless, that this wouldn’t be true.

He had betrayed her once again. Betrayed Lyria in death, even. And Rowan had no idea how he could possibly atone for such a deep, yet wholly unexpected, betrayal.

And then Aelin had taken him to the theater. She had taken him to this small sanctuary from her past and she had reminded him of just how beautiful she was. And not the beauty of her body, but the beauty of her very soul.

And Rowan knew that he couldn’t help but love her. No matter who it betrayed, no matter if it was a tearing of his own soul, of the partner of his heart, of the only person he expected waited for him in the Afterworld.

It was like the movements of the tide, the phases of the moon, the rising of the sun in the east and setting in the west. Uncontrollable, unstoppable. He couldn’t help but love her.

And gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But Rowan just closed his eyes and turned over in bed, forcing himself into an unsettled, disquieted sleep.

Until, in the deepest part of the night, he felt the covers rustle slightly as Aelin silently slipped out of bed and across room, heading right for her black armor.

#rowaelin #rowaelin ff #snippet #queen of shadows #we were robbed of more pining in qos so i am legally required to give yall as much of it as i can #i promise no nightgown scene will be skipped! every night will be covered!#unlike sjm who deletes them because she has page counts and pacing and whatevethat shit is to deal with #i will try to be less petty about acosf #and the fact that rowaelin deserved at least as many sex scenes!#but i will fail lmao

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starrshaddow · 3 years

Text

QUILTS

A gender neutral reader who is mute. They have hyperacusis and sensitivity in strong flavors.

Written: July 8, 2021

Published: August 29, 2021

Words: 1,144

— She find you very intriguing.

- Even at the start when she first met you, she never thought of you less when you sheepishly smiled and signed at her after she asked you how you were enjoying the celebration of the hospital.

- You signed at her that you were just passing by, and came for your therapy.

- You two were drastically different even from then.

- She was a doctor, both in Oasis and Talon.

- You were a civilian.

- But somehow, the two of you made it work.

- There was a time when you were sitting beside her, the lamp turned on while you quilted and she read her book.

- She was always careful when it comes to making a noise; like shutting the door, closing cabinets, cooking, and using her keys.

- But when you tapped her hand, turned to her and signed,

- "Can you read a little louder? I want to hear your voice."

- She was surprised, though she smiled at that as she cleared her throat ever so softly.

- She always spoke to you in a hushed manner, since she didn't want it to inconvenience you.

- But she raises it, a little.

- After reading a line, she glanced at you to make sure you weren't in pain.

- But you were quilting, a subtle tilt on your lips as you listened intently to what she has to say.

- And it wasn't anything important, really.

- She held a scientific book in her hands with references and information in it that is vital for her progress; yet you enjoyed listening to it.

- So she continued, rising from the bed to press her back on the headboard, like you are, as she read in a low voice with a calming Dubliner accent.

- Moira adores you, perhaps more than she shows.

- It's written in her stares when you're just quilting on that chair of yours while the dog pawed at your leg for attention.

- Or when your face scrunches up when you didn't like the taste of her new recipe.

— Whenever the two of you are outdoors after you've taken the dog on a walk or when going to therapy

- Moira is aware of how painful the noise can be

- But all the while, she's just so proud of you for being the way you are.

- A strong individual that is capable of anything and everything.

- Even if sometimes, there would be people that would be disrespectful to you. Pushes you, and yells at you.

- It would be a brief moment where something dark flits over Moira's eyes, like clouds shrouding the sun for a moment before it shifts to worry when it falls to you.

- She reaches out for your hand, thumb lightly brushing your knuckles as she asks softly;

- "Are you alright?"

- You were shaken a little by the loud outburst of that stranger. But you'll always recover and cock your head in a nod, a smile worming its way on your face as you look her in the eyes, your fingers sliding between hers to interlace them as you lift your spare hand to sign.

- "Bitch."

- Moira snorted at that.

— Moira finds it adorable everytime you'll let out a noise when she'd capture you in her arms.

- She's incredibly subtle when it comes to affection but in those rare moments where she is, she just loves to hold you tight in her arms.

- Feel your warmth and be soothed by it.

- She'd rest her chin on your shoulder. Close her eyes with a smile.

— All the finished quiltings you've made your home colorful.

- Moira also have some in her personal office back in Rome, and she didn't accept it from you, she bought it from you.

- She didn't like the idea of receiving such a beautiful craft that you worked so hard for as easy as that. No no. She's going to pay for it just like your customers do in that small yet charming shop you have in Oasis.

- It didn't feel right in her office at first. In a vile organization like Talon.

- But looking at it makes her feel less stressed at work, especially if their allies are being such a pain to work with.

- And as she trace the seams and patterns you've made, her frustrations melts away as she recalls the days you spent making them.

- Every seams and patterns.. Details and flaws.

- It all reminds her of you.

- This is your creation.

- One that reflected you as a whole.

- And god, does it make feel giddy that she's with you.

— You never busy yourself quilting when you're with her. Whether it be casually lounging at the couch or eating dinner together

- You'd ask her how she was.

- Not about her work, or day.

- But about her.

- If she have eaten right, slept well enough, and took breaks while she was away.

- And you'd sign it with such genuineness, with a small vibrant smile on your face.

- It made Moira wonder if she didn't show it enough.

- That she adored you so much that it hurts her that day when you sat up on the bed.

- Back turned to her as the night dawned to you.

- You signed at her,

- "I don't understand why you're still be with me."

- Your hands were shaking as you signed at her.

- "Don't you think you deserve to be with someone.."

- You stopped, and you were just staring at her straight in the eyes now. Your eyes wide, and cheeks stricken with tears as you finish.

- "..Better."

- It was just a silent pause, where it's just the two of you.

- A heavy weight on your shoulders as it dragged you under and suffocated you.

- "Is that what you believe in?"

- Voice hushed as she reaches out to you.

- "Has the truth ever occurred to you that I'm still with you, because I love you;"

- and she says with finality, breathes it out right from her heart. Your face in her hands.

- "(Y/n)."

- And now you're staring at her, mouth agape as your hands rose and shook, but couldn't— didn't— know what to say to her.

- Instead your eyes fluttered closed, as you let out a breathy wheeze with a big smile on your face.

- You mouthed to her. The words forming on your lips.

- 'Moira,'

- You leaned on her hand, placing yours over them.

- 'I love you too.'

- A subtle hint of flushed pink rises to her cheeks, a quiet moment where the tears fell down from your eyes, and you've hugged her so tight like you never wanted to let her go.

- And honestly she didn't want to either.

- If she can always have you in her arms like this.

- She absolutely will.

NOTE:

This was inspired by a fic I saw under the #Moira tag on Tumblr with the same prompt.

I really want to give a representation to everyone. I hope I did okay.. I don't wish to offend anyone who experience this, if there's any inaccurate moments or resemblance please let me know so I can fix it! :)

Also I have longer Moira fics on the work (and is so so excited to share them!!) one of it is already in 5,000+ words and the other is in 1,000 words?.. I think. I just hope I'll be inspired and have enough time to finish them.

I'm really sorry about all the requests on wait, schedule's been pretty packed, I also get side tracked plenty of times. I can only write for an hour and a half a day.. Which is pretty annoying since I want to share a lot of emotions in my words.

#moira x reader #moira #moira overwatch #gender-neutral reader #fluff #a liiiiittle bit of angst #chunks of plot #I really love plot >:D

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janekfan · 3 years

Note

for the bingo board, would you mind doing health scare with jon and the crew? i love your writing btw

Thank you so much!!!

Uh, I filled this probably unconventionally? But I hope it’s okay!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514178

Jon first noticed something was off when he woke up shivering in the dead of night. But temperatures had been dropping steadily, there was no reason to think that it was anything other than the thin, poorly insulated walls of his flat causing the problem. Exhausted, Jon knuckled enough sleep from his eyes to retrieve another blanket, deciding before he slipped away again to wear a warmer cardigan tomorrow because the archives had a tendency to be chilly.

When Jon limped his way into the office the next day his joints were already burning and loose, feeling all too much like they’d been crushed into powder. He knew better than to walk that extra stop from the train but he was so embittered about his new, illustrious position as Head Archivist that being crammed like a sardine with hundreds of other people all but reading his mind, knowing instinctively that he wasn’t cut out for the work, was unbearable and he’d needed an escape. It wasn’t that bad; he was just tired from trying to fix Gertrude’s mess, that’s all. He just needed to redirect his attention away from the needles stabbing into him every time he took a step and focus on the mountain of files he had yet to sort through.

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how they were organized, but he had been able to use the dates scrawled across the tops of the stiff yellowing papers to get some semblance of a timeline going. That was where Jon found himself when Martin dropped off a cuppa, thanking him absentmindedly as he compared what was either a nine or a seven to another, clearer script.

“Um. Jon?”

“Hm?” It couldn’t matter that much and Jon filed them away in deference to the tea. Jon hadn’t realized how thirsty he was...what time was it?

“I. It’s half three.” Oh. “And I. I just haven’t seen you eat? Anything?”

“Oh.”

“You’re so busy, of course! It’s natural to get, uh, caught up! I could fix you something, if you’d like?”

“I’m.” Not hungry, that was for certain. Either the pain or the exhaustion was upsetting his stomach and the idea of eating right now was--

“Jon?” Maybe he’d eaten something gone off? Past the expiry?

“Oh. Um. Actually.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Some. Some toast would be lovely, Martin, thank you.” A bite or two would help and as strange as it felt to take Martin up on his offer, the slightest bit of tension bled out of his shoulders.

Things had been.

Tense.

Since he’d accepted the position.

It was clear, no, true, that Sasha was better deserving of the job. She had more experience, more knowledge, more everything and yet Elias had passed her right over, giving Jon the ridiculous choice to resign or take it.

He should have resigned.

Finding a new workplace would be easier than watching his friends pull away from him. He didn’t blame Tim for siding with Sasha. She needed support right now. And anything he could think of to say to her would make him sound ungrateful that he’d been selected over her. Couldn’t very well go up to her and admit that he hated this and wanted everything to go back to the way it was in Research, because she really did want it.

And he.

“Toast’s up.” Martin sidestepped into the room to place the small plate on the corner of the desk. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like with it so I got a few things!” Cheerful and bright, he placed the jams down with a small spoon. He couldn’t have known it was exactly the right thing to do, that dry toast was about all Jon was going to be able to manage. “Anything I can help with?” Tentative, it was no secret that Jon was prickly at the best of times.

“Ah, um.” Jon gestured to a box, repressed a flinch when it seemed like his shoulder would jump from its socket. “I’ve been organizing by the dates on the top? Just, just for something.”

“Got it.”

Jon made his way slowly through one slice, later agreeing with Martin that he’d gotten too caught up with work to think about the second.

Things didn’t improve.

Maybe it was this.

Maybe it was that.

Excuse after excuse, because anything would be better than what he knew in his heart this really was and finally late one evening Jon clutched the bed spread despite the fire flaring in his fingers and buried his face into the soft fabric. It was foolish; it wouldn’t change anything to be so upset and he should be better equipped to handle it considering these spells would continue happening. He breathed in, out, slow, measured, but instead of calming him, he burst into sobs, muffling himself in the sheets and crying despite the pain and as he lay there, coming down from his tears of frustration, Jon realized, accepted, what was happening. The reason for his fever, headaches, the increase in pain, the trouble eating, sleeping--

“You are fine.” He whispered repeatedly into the cold isolated dark of his bedroom. “It won’t last forever. It never does.” But it always felt like forever and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be this time. What mistake did he make to cause it, even though Jon knew deep down it didn’t matter. That these things came and went with the wind and no matter what habits he changed to try and mitigate it, it never mattered. It was as if he was only able to talk himself down in time for it to flare up again and the constant fight to convince himself he would be alright, that he would make it through again and again and again was exhausting because it meant he was done in before the day even began.

Jon’s body ached like one giant bruise, crushed, pulled apart, at once boneless and so heavy that moving out of bed was out of the question. Brain stuffed with cotton wool and foggy thoughts meant that to speak meant to hurt so he didn’t, knowing he came across as spiteful but he didn’t have the energy to explain, not when he was so focused on making it from train to Institute to door to stairs to office; each leg of such a routine journey worse than the last. Sitting up was an ordeal and Jon had to drag his stick and string self out of bed after each restless night with caution, lest he pull something loose out of place. Braces, tape, hidden, hiding, normal, normal, normal. How he could be so tired and still not be able to sleep at night was a torture he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Greetings, pleasantries, small talk all standing in the way of Jon reaching his desk and taking a break from what was essentially waking up. But it hurt. It all hurt. And it made it all worse because they were already angry with him and they wouldn’t stop being angry at him unless he put work into mending their relationships and he couldn’t put work into it when he wanted nothing more than to lay down and be unconscious for however long it took until this all passed.

The worst part of it all was that he needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. Not with the cold shoulders, the whispers, the looks. And he only had himself to blame. The desk phone caught his attention and Jon was surprised it wasn’t shrouded in a layer of dust, still weighing his choices. Call someone, probably Martin. Or drag himself out of his office. One would only wound his pride. Gingerly, Jon cradled the phone to his ear, licking chapped lips before dialing Martin’s extension.

“Oh, J’Jon?” He’d never called any of them before. “Uh, what can I do for you?” Thank god. Trust Martin’s helpful nature to override any other questions.

“Ah, Martin. Yes, thank you. If you could--” There was a scuffle, a yelp, muffled through his door, followed by the dramatic clearing of a throat and:

“You can’t hide in there all week, Jon!” Came Tim’s sing-song reply and the hang up was two fold; through the receiver and the clang of the thing on Martin’s desk. Jon took a deep breath, pushing back the emotions threatening to flood him, tipping his head back and begging the tears to stop.

Having to ask for help was almost impossible and the longer he waited to show his face, the worse it would be.

The only thing he’d accomplished by picking up the phone was to put himself on a time limit.

This was too overwhelming.

Their desks are meters away but it may as well have been kilometers with how much he was hurting. But Jon pushed himself to his unsteady feet anyway, wishing both that someone would just notice and that he was masking his symptoms enough that they wouldn’t. He wasn’t foolish enough to leave his cane behind. It took concentration to keep his expression neutral, to force himself to walk smoothly. To pretend it was a regular day.

“That’s a level ten scowl, boss.” Jon rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’ve been so moody lately.” Tim looked up from where he was twiddling away on his phone. Taking a break, that’s all, nothing to be upset with even though he couldn’t help but compare the number of files stacked on their individual desks. Jon swallowed hard around the tangle of hot disappointment.

“I’ve b’been, uh. It’s well, it’s a lot.” He hadn’t heard Sasha come up behind him, tone droll and capricious and all too familiar these days.

“I thought you’d be happier considering your position.” When Jon laughed nervously, it was damp with suppressed emotion. “It’s like you didn’t even want it.” And good lord at this moment he’d never wanted it less. But how could he talk to her about how difficult this transition had been when he was the thief? So he didn’t defend himself, instead going along with their jokes at his expense, trying to explain what he’d tried to call for. It was difficult to breathe in their presence, it was difficult to stand. It was difficult to accept that his friends were actively making things harder.

How would they know?

Tell them.

They’ll think you’re lying.

You were fine the other day.

“I was hoping you’d help me collect some files.” Jon wrapped his pompous academic exterior around him like a shield and for a horrifying moment he thought Tim was going to tell him off.

“Why didn’t you say so, boss?” Sarcasm dripped like crude oil from each syllable. “You just tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.”

“Ah, j’just uh.” Jon pointed to what he needed in the stacks and Tim grunted with the weight of it, chuckling without mirth.

“Letting being the Big Boss go to your head are you?” He wiped a hand dramatically over his forehead. “Too shiftless to collect your own work?”

Why was he being so cruel?

“Too busy, I think you mean.” Jon shot back, letting anger and frustration seep through the continuously forming cracks. It was that or sob.

“Yeah, well. If you need anything else, you know where to find us.”

Jon absolutely refused to cry in his office.

It was stupid of him to not ask for help.

But he’d needed help with so many things this week past. Small things. Moving things. Carrying things. Things a normal person could do without constantly relying on others and the idea of parading himself into their midst again made his eyes sting with tears and his knees and hips burn. They hurt so much even with the bulky braces and sticky tape hidden beneath his trousers literally holding his joints together he didn’t think he’d be able to make another trip back and forth.

Which is how Jon found himself staring dumbly at his dangling arm for full seconds after trying to lift a box.

He’d dislocated his shoulder if the audible and sharp pop! was any indication and when the hot flush of agony hit he yelped mostly in surprise before controlling his fall to the floor. Someone was digging around in his shoulder socket with a superheated spoon as he writhed on the ground and he took just a moment to feel sorry for himself. He’d just wanted to do this one thing by himself and not have to surrender the tiny scrap of independence he’d been clinging to with his fingernails. Cursing himself for being so stupid and cursing himself again when his mewling brought all three of his assistants to his door, Jon looked up, feeling not unlike a beetle trapped on its back and waiting to be pinned. Now he was surrounded, in pain, under the glass of their frightened stares and he couldn’t spare the breath to tell them that he was fine. Just needed a moment to, to fit the puzzle pieces back together while he was being torn apart at his fragile seams.

“Boss--” A cacophony of panicked voices rising higher and higher and--

“Don’t!” They were reaching towards him, stopping at his tight command. “Don’t. I need. I--a minute. It’s fine.” Sweat streaked into the greying hair at his temples.

“This isn’t fine.” Tim sounded angry, scared, and Jon didn’t have enough in him to explain. Not right now. “Jon, you need--”

“Don’t tell me what I need!!” Surprising even himself with the vehement strength behind his declaration Jon put real effort into slowing his rapid breath. If he couldn’t control that, he couldn’t control himself, he couldn’t control the situation. At some point he closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, listening to the sound of Tim’s angry footsteps, Sasha’s following, their muffled voices upset and far away. He sensed Martin kneel beside him.

“Got you a cold cloth. Would you…?”

“P’please…” carried on the gust of his next exhale, the hum of relief stuck in his throat when Martin smoothed it over his eyes and it dulled the constant headache.

“You feel warm.”

“S’normal.” Martin was a surprising well of calm, not pressing or pushing or probing.

“Can I help?”

“In a, need another minute.” Experimentally Jon wiggled his fingers to check for numbness before trying to extend his arm and ultimately asking Martin for help.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to, to make it worse.”

“Can’t. Not really. Just there.” Martin’s hands were soft and warm as he maneuvered his arm over his head, helping bend it at the elbow and Jon grunted at the sensation of it falling back into place with a cool wash of relief.

“Oh! Uh, better?”

“Much.”

“I’ll make you some tea.” As though it were the man’s answer to all ills.

Jon took his time sitting up and getting to his feet, grabbing his cane and making his way to the breakroom where he knew he’d find Tim and Sasha. They at least gave him time to get settled before Tim launched into his interrogation.

“What happened?” Jon squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny, eyes downcast and focused on the glare of the fluorescent lighting reflecting off the surface of the tea Martin made him and glinting off the untouched foil backing of the paracetamol blister pack. His arm was in a sling. A sling he happened to have in his desk. A sling he happened to have in his desk “because this just happened sometimes.” The pain had decreased significantly but it didn’t feel right and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I tried to lift a box.”

“A box.” Jon could really, really do without the incredulity.

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, because you never talk about it!”

“Because it’s always the same!” Jon didn’t mean to shout, but they wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t. And no amount of explaining or talking about his symptoms or complaining when he was hurting because he was always hurting would make a difference. “People don’t want to hear about it, Tim. It’s. It’s depressing.” They don’t believe me. “It makes people feel bad and then they get awkward. It’s easier for all of us if we just. Pretend.”

“Jon--”

“You’ve known since Research.” Jon wrapped sore arms around a sore stomach. “You know what these episodes look like, if not what it is.” And you didn’t care enough to even ask. It goes unsaid. Blaming Tim for something so far beyond his control wasn’t fair and Jon refused to do it.

Noticing would have been nice.

Not being forced to haul himself out to their desks to ask for help would have been nice. He understood they were acting out a bit of revenge and he didn’t blame them considering he’d stolen the job out from under Sasha. But it had been a blow to his pride all the same. Every time. Like being kicked when he was down.

Tears sprang to his eyes.

“And I. I don’t need. I don’t need to be coddled. But.” It felt stupid to say he wasn’t always able to walk between their desks and his office. He should be able to do that. It should be easy and he hated that it wasn’t. “I n’need to be allowed to, to.”

Leave. Leave here and never come back because he’d never felt worse than he did right now trying to beg his assistants for permission to use the phone.

“Call us.” Martin provided. “On the bad days.” Jon nodded, hiding his trembling lips behind the mug of cooling tea.

“Jon.” Tim sounded stricken. “I, I never meant--I.” Jon knew that. Tim was kind, had helped him when they worked upstairs together. But being punished like a child for saying yes-- “Jon.” He looked up to see that Tim was sitting across from him, hand outstretched on the table between them. Reaching. “Jon. I’m so, so sorry. That was. I shouldn’t have taken it that far.”

“I never. I didn’t say anything. You didn’t know.” It was Jon’s fault for being stubborn. It was Jon’s fault for not explaining.

“That’s no excuse for acting like a prat.” Jon ducked his head, embarrassment heating his face.

“I just. I chose y’you because.”

I trust you.

When Sasha sat beside him and bundled him into a gentle hug, that’s when the tears came in a biblical flood.

“Oh, Jon. I’m so sorry.” She rested her chin atop his head and the relief outweighed the unprofessionalism as he let himself be held. “We’re going to be better, alright?”

“Al’alright.” Salt damp and trembling, Jon was too exhausted to worry about what they thought of his greatest secret.

Hours later Jon blinked awake, bleary and warm, on the couch, head in Sasha’s lap as she read through a case and wrapped up in one of Martin’s jumpers.

“Almost quittin’ time, boss.” Oh. “You okay to make it home?”

“Uh, y’yeah, yes.”

It was nice to be asked.

It was a bit like walking on eggshells, the first few days of them navigating Jon without smothering him but the support was a far cry from the isolation and loneliness he’d dealt with since this whole thing started.

And then finally it began to break; the pain that’d been ratcheted up to eleven finally started dying down to a more manageable five or six.

“Need anything while I’m up, Jon?” Sasha poked her head into his office on her way by, a familiar, easy smile on her face and one he’d missed dearly.

“Ah, no, I--oh. If it’s not too much trouble, Martin was working on a translation?”

“Sure thing.”

Simple as that.

#TMA #the magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #gen #hurt comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Jon has a cane #Jon has EDS #chronic pain #chronic illness #internalized ableism

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

THE OBEY ME BOYS AS YANDERES: GAKUEN EDITION

**thank u @sl33pymimikyu and @thelazystrawberryboi for the ideas! es para todos ustedes

You are accepted into a particularly exclusive, prestigious school. As you are of low class, it is an acceptance based purely on merit. A fact that some of your wealthier classmates use to bully you. Due to your lonely upbringing – your parents and close relatives died when you were young – you find yourself determined to make friends, pass with honors, and prove yourself.

Unfortunately, you just so happen to draw the wrong kind of attention.

Word Count: 3,369

TW: Blood, Violence, Mention of Sexual Harassment, Yandere

PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO / TRIGGERED BY THESE TOPICS. I HAVE TAGGED AND INCLUDED TRIGGER WARNINGS.

BELPHEGOR

You can’t remember the last time you’ve managed to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. Time passes by in a sleep-addled haze, given your penchant for afternoon naps and sleeping in, and each day is a struggle to focus on your classes. Belphie tells you that you should see a professional for your narcolepsy, that he can pay for the best medical treatment, but you won’t hear it. You’re not even sure if it is narcolepsy, considering its strange, sudden onset. You’ve tried time and time again to cure your condition. Pills, alarms, strict sleeping schedules – you’ve tried them all, to no avail.

Thankfully, you have Belphie at your side. At his behest, you’ve taken residence in one of his guest bedrooms for the time being. A precautionary measure to watch your condition. Without his generosity, you’re not sure if you’d have the ability to keep your scholarship.

You struggle to read the textbook in front of you. The words go in and out of focus, making you dizzy, and you grip the edge of the desk to stop yourself from falling over. It only works for so long. One wrong movement, and you feel your body tumble out of the chair and towards the ground.

Much to your surprise, Belphie catches you before you can crash into the floor. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” Belphie chides, firmly placing you back in your seat. You mumble a quiet thank you, trying to hold him in your wavering vision, but he merely waves off your gesture of gratitude. “Coffee’s by your book. If you want more, just tell me.”

The coffee mug is warm in your hands. Freshly brewed, homemade, and steaming, with the coffee beans roasted to a deep flavor. Belphie insists on making cups of coffee for you day and night, which you greatly appreciate. Honestly, you’re not sure if you would even be able to stay awake without the extra caffeine.

LUCIFER

You’re sure that this is a direct violation of school policy. One involving sexual harassment, specifically. Lucifer, your biology professor, is close enough that you can feel his breath tickling the nape of your neck. His skin radiates warmth, even through the fabric of his dress shirt, and the darkness of the classroom shrouds his expression from you. The result of a random and unexpected blackout during your tutoring session. While the contact isn’t exactly unwelcome – Lucifer is very, very attractive, after all – you’re not certain that you’re comfortable with the current situation. Especially when he hasn’t made any indication of –

“There’s something dirty on your uniform,” your professor says, pulling the aforementioned object off your shoulder. You blink. “I see that blackouts are a bit too nerve-wracking for you.”

Oh.

He sighs. “I thought you heard me tell you that.”

You didn’t, but he could have just repeated himself. It’s not like you don’t have the ability to straighten your uniform. The blackout does have you a little on edge, besides – it would have been better if you had done it yourself.

The conversation for the rest of your tutoring session plays out nearly as you had expected. There is pride in having a perfectly clean, composed school uniform, he states, and it is imperative that all students learn the importance of appearance in the workplace. All impurities must be cleansed. Removed totally from one’s person and the surroundings. That is a major part of the school’s creed, after all. It would do no good not to follow it.

You wish you had listened that day. You wish that you had noticed the hunger in his gaze at the time.

Yet you would only realize the importance in his words months later. Your hands handcuffed to a pipe, the light flickering above in the sterile laboratory, and that hungry gaze branded on Lucifer’s features. The classmate that had dared to kiss and touch you without your permission had been strapped to the table.

You hadn’t bothered to listen to him the first time. If this lecture in biology isn’t enough, Lucifer says, then he’s not sure how else he can explain it to you.

MAMMON

He did give you a chance, he explains. Countless chances. If you had just agreed to be his the first time, you wouldn’t have forced his hand. If you had just allowed him to be greedy with your time, he wouldn’t have had to pay off his hitmen. If you had just given him everything of yourself – your time, your touch, your smile – then he wouldn’t have felt compelled to do what he did. So it is your fault that all your friends are dead, really. It is your fault that you have no one else but him now, if you can even consider it that.

Which you don’t, of course. You had glared at him from the golden bars of your cage as he had gone on and on in his spiel, adjusting your position in your shackles, and then you had spat on him when he dared to come close. While he had effectively monopolized your time, he would never have your heart. He would never truly have all of you, no matter how much he tried. No amount of money could buy it. You had called him a monster, a demon, a complete fucking bastard – anything and everything that you could think of. You had told him that nothing he could do would ever win you over. Your demands on being freed from your prison had fallen on deaf ears.

Even now, with a knife to your throat and his body pressed too close to yours, you don’t regret that decision.

“If I finally stop fucking around and take ya for myself, would ya hate me?” Mammon draws out, testing the blade against the delicate skin of your neck. You force yourself to stay still as blood begins to trail down the edge. “’Course ya would. But I’m nicer than that, so I think I’ll go ahead and explain again. Just for good measure.”

You gasp as you are driven higher up the golden bars of the cage, the cold metal digging uncomfortably into your back. Still, you fail to relent. Your glare is just as intense as ever, focused on Mammon, and Mammon responds in kind. The cocky smile that makes itself known on his features does nothing but irritate you, as is the sickening knowledge that you have little control over the situation. Your escape attempts have only angered Mammon further.

“I’d carve yer tongue out first, ya know,” he reassures you. “I’d carve yer heart out and take it for myself before ya gave it to anyone else. If ya think you can pull a fast one on me – well, ya got another thing comin’.”

LEVIATHAN

Each drop that falls from the shower head is a needle against your back. Piercing, biting, and numbing in the most unpleasant manner possible. Worst of all, it is a sensation that has forced you into a violent awakening, as if your mind had been clouded by some unknown entity. Denial, contradiction, some sort of psychological defense mechanism – regardless of whatever the name is, it is one that has been ripped away from your consciousness. And so you find yourself curling into fetal position on the floor of Levi’s shower, attempting to drive away the thoughts that threaten your already fragile psyche. Needle-like drops bury themselves into your skin, the tiled floor of the Levi’s exorbitant bathroom has rendered your fingers numb, and your wet hair plasters itself against the nape of your neck.

You should have known. Perhaps there was some part of you that was aware of Levi’s atrocities, quietly connecting the murders and disappearances to his obsessive adoration for you. Perhaps some part of you had known all along, and you had chosen to ignore it.

“Do you need help in there?” Levi’s voice calls beyond the door. You flinch. “You didn’t fall or anything, did you?”

Your mouth is dry when you open it to speak. The words are silent.

The cases were too clean to be anything but planned. You’re painfully aware of that now. The fact that they were all romantic rivals of some sort hadn’t been a coincidence. They hadn’t drowned on their own, either. Something had pulled them under, deep into the black waters and underwater caves, and they had little choice but to do so. Nitrogen narcosis and hypoxia could only occur so many times. Someone with a knowledge of the underwater cave systems near your school had known of its dangers and lured the victims there.

Who was more suited to do that than the captain of the swim team? It is an answer that is almost too obvious – as well as one that he had skillfully manipulated to hide himself in plain sight.

A knock at the door. It swings open. You can’t bring yourself to move.

Levi tuts as he gathers you up in a towel, doing his best to pat you dry. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he says, sighing. “Still, if you were too tired to shower without falling over, you should’ve told me. We’re friends, right? You can ask me to do anything.”

You hadn’t asked him to drown every one of his romantic rivals, but you keep that to yourself. Instead, you mumble something that you hope sounds like agreement.

Even as Levi works to dress you in your catatonic state, you think of the last expression you had seen on your date’s face. A mixture of surprise and bewilderment. You had noticed the familiar glove of the hand that had pulled him under, and the revelation had shocked you into complete and utter stillness for a few moments. Then you were desperately swimming upwards, your panic forcing you to use too much of your oxygen. You’re not sure if Levi dragged your date into a false chimney. You’re not even sure how Levi got you out of the water and to his family’s manor.

Regardless, you’ve been unconscious for nearly a day, your date’s body hasn’t resurfaced, and you’re now trapped in the same room as a murderer.

SATAN

While you haven’t sustained a concussion, you’ve awoken with more injuries than you would like. Which is just as well, considering what you’ve been through. One of your many harassers had saw it fit to throw you from a story balcony – payment for your uppity nature, he had said – and you had been powerless to fend him and his friends off. Your books had gone off the railing first, your papers fluttering to the ground. Next was your bag itself, your pens and pencils, and the calculator you had saved up to buy. You had flinched at the sounds of your belongings cracking and scattering against the concrete below.

And then it was your turn.

You remember screaming. Begging for your life. Despite your pleas – you wouldn’t score as high next time, you hadn’t cheated, this could very well kill you – they had decided to toss you off the balcony.

The crack of your own bones was sickening. You had fractured your femur, broken one of your arms, and earned more than a few lacerations and bruises from the impact – but you had lived. Satan had managed to find you mere seconds after you had fallen, he had explained. A fortunate coincidence. As the heir of a healthcare corporation, it had been no trouble to call an ambulance and have you treated for your injuries. He and his family could waive the fees for your treatment, of course. It was the least he could do as a friend.

Yet you have a nagging feeling that something is wrong. Something off about his story. You were dragged out of your dorm at night and taken to a secluded part of campus that night, you remember. How had he known you would be there? How had he found you in such a short amount of time? And the perpetrators had mentioned something about being paid off, too. If you didn’t know any better, then you would think that –

The door to your hospital room slides open.

“How are you feeling?” Satan asks, a worried expression on his face. He crosses the room with quick, long strides and places a tray of food by your bed. Curried vegetables, white rice, and a hot cup of tea. “I know it’s not the best, but I hope it’s to your liking. I had you put in a more private wing, too – I figured you’d want some space.”

He shouldn’t feel obligated to apologize for hospital food of all things, you tell him. A pang of guilt strikes you. How could you think so badly of one of your only friends? You’re grateful that he was there.

Satan smiles. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he says. “My family owns this hospital, so feel free to stay here for as long as you like. I’ll inform the school later.”

You offer him a grateful smile, thanking him. He responds in kind.

Why would Satan pay someone to throw you off a balcony? The idea itself is completely ridiculous. Maybe you should get yourself checked for a concussion. Satan – your bookish, glasses-wearing, and studious friend – is about as dangerous as a newborn kitten.

ASMODEUS

It was, admittedly, a slow process. Anyone that had ever dared to harass and bully you had disappeared for a variety of reasons. Inexplicable ailments that sent them to the hospital. Drug overdoses that turned out to be fatal. Air embolisms for a variety of reasons, despite the youth and health of the victim. Calling cards that sent them to schools overseas. Freak accidents regarding pharmaceuticals. Mix-ups in medication.

Yet you ignored the strange occurrences. You sorely regret that decision.

Asmodeus twirls a ring of keys on one of his fingers, offering you that familiar, teasing wink. Given that you’ve been locked in this lavish room for days, however, it has an entirely new meaning now. He steps towards you with deliberation, his heeled boots clicking lightly against the marble floor, and you swallow audibly. He’s trying to intimidate you. He’s only trying to scare you. Asmodeus hasn’t raised a finger to you once since your capture, so you can at least have faith in that. Other than the drugged tea he had given you – a measure to render you unconscious and drag you in here – he hasn’t done anything else untoward.

“You’re really cute, you know,” he teases. “All that planning and scheming and plotting. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I thought you knew me better than that.”

You won’t say anything to anyone, you tell him. If he lets you out of here, you won’t tell anyone what he did. It would be disastrous if his family were to find out that he was using their pharmaceutical company for such purposes, wouldn’t it? While you don’t understand why he’s killed so many people, you promise you’ll –

Asmodeus stops for a moment, thinking. The keys are just an arm’s reach away. If you can just bolt off the bed fast enough and knock him out, you’ll have them. You’re fairly sure that you can overpower your waifish former friend.

“Really?” Asmodeus pouts. “You promise?”

You promise. You open your arms to give him a hug, urging him closer. You two are friends, right?

A moment passes. The tension between the both of you is thick and palpable, as is the silence.

And then Asmodeus is flying into your arms. You find yourself relaxing for a brief second as he sinks into your embrace, holding you close in that familiar way, and you let your guard down. This is the person who so valiantly defended you from harassment during the first few weeks in school. This is the person that helped you clean up your locker after class, emptied the tacks out of your shoes, and wiped off the derogatory scribbles on your desk. This is the person that had bothered to introduce himself on the first day of school, regardless of your status. If this hadn’t happened – if he hadn’t drugged and imprisoned you here – you would have considered him an infallible friend. Now, if you could just shove him to the –

Pain shoots from your shoulder. You turn to see a bright syringe sinking into the skin of your shoulder, the liquid forcing its way into your body. Asmodeus offers you a smile as you sink to the floor. Cradles you as your body goes slack. You mouth wordless questions at him.

“You idiot. You didn’t think I was that dumb, did you?” Asmodeus draws the now empty syringe from your shoulder. He sighs. “I thought you’d have figured it out by now, but I guess you’re still as dense as ever. Guess you’ll need some more reinforcement.”

Your vision blurs. A lock of hair is brushed away from your face and tucked behind your ear. Your limbs are unbearably heavy, your body refusing to listen to you, and your eyelids follow suit.

“It’s okay, though,” he reassures you, placing a quick kiss against your forehead. “Even if your mind breaks, I’ll still love you.”

BEELZEBUB

Despite being on the way to inherit a number of high-class restaurants, you often find Beel doing menial work in the kitchen. It was a sight that had caught you off-guard the first day of your part-time job – one that you haven’t gotten quite used to, actually. Beel explains that it’s best for him to know every aspect of the food and customer service industry, that it takes a load off the other employees, but you don’t quite believe that. You’re pretty sure he’s just there to snack on bread sticks and extra food. Most of the time, anyway.

Still, you can’t deny that he’s exceptionally good at cooking dishes made of ground meat. It becomes tradition to make you dinner after seeing you working in one of his father’s restaurants, which you gladly welcome.

And so you are treated to pub burgers topped with blue cheese and arugula. Spaghetti with wine-infused meatballs and freshly shredded parmesan. Baked mac and cheese filled with ground meat, five cheeses, and cream sourced from a local dairy farm. Shepherd’s pie with perfectly piped mashed potatoes on top. Wild mushroom soup with buttered, crusty bread. Stuffed zucchini drizzled with olive oil. After a long day of both school and part-time work, you gladly clear your plate each and every time.

You watch a news segment on your phone over dinner one evening. A newscaster prattles on about missing students in the area, some of their names seeming vaguely familiar, and you find yourself staring at their photos. While they are suspected to be murdered, it appears that the bodies are nowhere to be found. The killer must have some way of disposing most of the body parts, if not all of them. Anyone with information is welcome to –

Beel reaches over and turns off your phone for you, much to your surprise. There is a strangely serious expression on his face as he informs you that it’s rude to have your phone out at dinner – especially when he’s gone through the trouble of frying up croquettes. A hot plate of freshly fried, meat-stuffed croquettes is placed in front of you, and your thoughts about the strange news segment are immediately dismissed.

Halfway through dinner and with most of the croquettes devoured between the both of you, it occurs to you that you’ve never asked what kind of meat you’ve been eating.

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stormra · 3 years

Note

For Osomatsu-san: How would the brothers treat their S/O, who’s a popular musician but has to travel around all the time (tours, concerts, etc)? Would they come with their S/O? Or stay and support them from afar because they don’t want to get in their way?

❝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒/𝐎

— type : headcanons

— characters : the matsuno brothers

𝙊𝙎𝙊𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ While he’d support you and love you unconditionally regardless of what you want from him, he’d definitely want to leech off of your successes. You can expect him to instantly say yes upon being asked to travel with you. Staying home wouldn’t even be a consideration for an array of arguably stupid reasons that read as follows:

❧ “It’s no big deal! What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, baby~”

❧ However, if you’re into being a less-official version of a sugar Mommy/Daddy/Parent, you might not care about him tagging along and using you for your money/fame. At least he loves you? Just look at it that way! Osomatsu isn’t all that bad.

❧ Sure, he’s greedy, but he’s not extremely selfish. He’d recognize that you have feelings that deserve to be acknowledged. Besides, we all know he doesn’t think very highly of himself in the first place.

❧ He’d love to listen to you play/sing for him and would often go out of his way to watch you perform. While he might not know much about music, he’d value your dedication, as he has exactly 0 ounces of that mystical concept. Knowing that the people he loves are successful is euphoric.

❧ If you show him off to the public or so much as walk around with him in public, expect him to die. He wouldn’t be focused on suddenly gaining fame and popularity like some others would. Instead, he’d be stuck on the fact that you, a popular musician, chose to show the world that you belong to him and that he belongs to you... just a lowly NEET dating someone exponentially more successful. Something about that would warm his heart and make him feel valued for once.

❧ Did someone say he’d finally accept his identity? He’s constantly having internal crises. Your presence would only solidify his existence.

❧ While he wouldn’t be much of a comforting boyfriend, he’d pose as a great distraction. The celebrity life can get rather tiresome; Osomatsu would recognize this without a problem. Instead of coddling or comforting you, he’d use his childish nature to distract you from the stresses of the music industry, influencing you to take breaks and lazy days with him.

❧ He’d constantly ask to be in any sort of photo shoots you may have. He just wants to pose in funny positions with you!

𝙆𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ While Karamatsu wouldn’t exactly want to stay home in order to keep himself from making things harder for you, he’d do so if you asked or made it clear that you’d prefer such an option. If you’d expect him to ask, no. He’s far too polite to do that.

❧ It’s important to note that he considers himself to be a bit of a musician as well. Therefore, he’d be even more compelled to go with you, but, again, he’d never ask. You’d have to ask him and express a trillion times that you actually want him to tag along.

❧ This might sound like a stretch, but that grandiose act he loves so much? It would disappear rapidly with the knowledge that so many people could learn of his existence just by dating you. Without even being the celebrity in the relationship, he’d crack under pressure, reverting back into the timid, people-pleasing man he truly is. Get ready to have some fun teasing him and/or helping him establish true confidence.

❧ Expect a lot of praise to fall from his lips. He would admire your successes without being overbearing. In fact, you’d inspire him. A lot. You can also expect a lot of his own songs to center around your success and beauty.

❧ Honestly? Give him musical advice! He’d accept it wholeheartedly; especially if it comes from someone like you. Your career would influence him to grow and learn from his mistakes in the field. You might have a model singer as a boyfriend before the end of the tour! While giving him critique, be sure to praise him just as much. He loves you endlessly, but lots of critique with little praise will leave him feeling a bit insecure. However, I’m sure you know this, as this aspect of his character is far from unnoticeable. Be gentle with him. He deserves it!

❧ If you imagine playing/singing duets with him, you’re on the right track. He’d love to sing for you and hear you sing with him in return. The same can be said for any instrument you may happen to play. He’d eat it right up! You’re his everything, after all.

❧ Will wear your merch—especially merch with your face on it. Please wear his tank top with his face out of respect.

𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ Although some would assume he’d want to stay home for your sake, as he calls himself the most “responsible” brother, I know it wouldn’t be anything like that. Have you seen the way he acts around Nyaa-chan? This guy would ask you daily, disguising his motives with innocent claims. He’s a tricky bastard who should never be underestimated.

❧ “I only want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you!”

❧ “Don’t you need an assistant? Emotional support?”

❧ “If you don’t want me to come, I understand, but I think this could be a learning experience for the both of us!”

❧ While he would be more than willing to be your crutch and sense of normalcy, for he isn’t heartless, we all know he has a weird thing for idols and that would primarily spawn his desire to travel on tour with you. It doesn’t matter if you’re nothing like the idol he praises. You’re close enough and that’s undeniably attractive to him.

❧ The fact that he’s even dating a musician is enough to scare him. Can you imagine how he’d act traveling with one? Pushy and controlling, you’d hardly catch a break, as he’d be riding your ass to get things done and to take care of yourself. If you like that sort of thing, good for you. If you don’t, then you’d need to talk to him about it. Although executed with good intentions, his overbearingness can be... well, overbearing.

❧ Please keep him humble. As we know his ego is the size of the sun, he’d willingly or unwillingly use your existence as his partner to set himself apart from his brothers. Again, we know he already thinks very highly of himself, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he started using your relationship as a boost to get ahead of his “worthless” siblings.

❧ “I’m dating a musician and you five can’t even get jobs!”

❧ However, he’d never you to show him off to the public.

❧ On a more wholesome note, as I feel bad for giving him mostly negative headcanons, his doting-ness would be welcomed as well as detested. On your bad days, he’d be there to comfort you and offer objective solutions. Albeit uncharismatic, he’s rather skilled at speaking and getting his words across when they need to be conveyed properly.

❧ He buys all of your merch and wears the shirts everywhere. Really.

𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ It would take a lot of convincing on your behalf if you desperately want this man to travel with you.

❧ The threat of exposing himself to the public is a deep-rooted fear that keeps him from doing simple things within his mundane life—so one can only imagine the stress that would sit on his shoulders in an environment such as the celebrity one. He’d constantly find himself within ruts and deep pits, trying to stay out of the spotlight.

❧ In that case, he’d be staying home. Let him stay home. However, the problems wouldn’t end there, so you best be on your toes.

❧ Jealousy can overrun the best of us. Ichimatsu couldn’t stomach the idea of going with you in the first place, but that wouldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts telling him that you’d end up leaving him for another musician who is leagues more talented and better looking. This obviously wouldn’t be your fault; he’s always been disgustingly insecure. A lot of communication would need to be reached: such as phone calls and texts. Although he wouldn’t be clingy, he’d need some frequent reassurance that you, in fact, love him. Praise him for being so sweet for you. Call him handsome as you FaceTime. Hell, write a short song for him.

❧ On another note, you as a musician would literally be his northern star. As a man so shrouded in negativity, seeing you, a person who can communicate feelings through fingers or a voice, shining like the sun whilst on a stage surrounded by thousands, would leave his soul feeling all light and fuzzy. The mere thought that his partner is someone so ethereal would bring him some form of internal peace.

❧ He’d listen to your music every night. It’s how he’d fall asleep.

❧ Surprisingly, he’d be the best at comforting you and helping you stay grounded. He knows what it feels like to feel hopeless.

❧ Sing him to sleep over the phone! If you play an instrument, play for him! Oddly enough, he’d have one of the most prominent adorations for your musical skill out of his brothers. Something about it just warms his heart. You’d impress him to no end and inspire him to try and do something with his life.

❧ He’d name one of his cats after a song of yours!

𝙅𝙔𝙐𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ Undoubtedly, he’d be the most eager to travel out of his brothers. He’d ask you daily, jumping up and down like a hyper puppy. He’d hardly have a reason as to why he’d like to go, but something about it would forever and always appeal to him for some unspoken reason. He might just crave adventure and some excitement.

❧ Are we really surprised?

❧ Identical to a dog, he’d beg. He’d ask with various bone-crushing hugs and weird stares that are hard to deny. He’s not exactly the brightest, but he’s cute and knows it. No, he’s not manipulative, but if he wants to go, he’ll sure try his best to convince you to take him with you.

❧ He compares you to Karamatsu a lot. In good ways, of course.

❧ Upon letting him travel with you, he’d be one of the best distractions on a bad day. Of course you can’t silence discomfort by just “being happy”, but Jyushimatsu sure likes to make you laugh even on your darkest days. He’d be a great listener that lets you spill all of your darkest worries as an artist. He wouldn’t give the best advice, but his presence would be an award in it of itself. Like Osomatsu, his childish nature is a breath of fresh air. He’d also be remarkably skilled at reading how you feel.

❧ Undoubtedly the loudest supporter at your performances. Will go out of his way to make sure his voice is the one you hear screaming over a sea of thousands. Also, I can’t promise he won’t tackle-hug you after performances, let that be offstage or onstage. Be ready!

❧ He’d love wearing your merch—specifically oversized t-shirts with your face on them! Much like Karamatsu, he thinks that’s all sorts of romantic and cute. He could care less about being viewed as weird.

❧ There’s no way you can keep Jyushimatsu out of the public eye. He loves you and he loves having fun! The poor guy would probably have a hard time understanding why he shouldn’t tackle you in front of your fans. Your best bet is to establish some boundaries and come to a conclusion that works best. If I’m being honest, he’d be a harmless public partner. He’s just all smiles and laughter... mostly. (:

𝙏𝙊𝘿𝙊𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙎𝙐 :

❧ Ultimately, this little bastard is hard to read. He can either be the sweetest man to ever grace the Earth or the most devilish and selfish.

❧ He’d tell you he doesn’t need to go on tour with you, but the answer he’s looking for is a yes. He enjoys playing “hard to get” and wants to come off as responsible and kind. Much like Choromatsu, he knows how to play his social cards and will do what he can to seem like a perfectly indecisive partner who is “totally okay with whatever you want.” That’s a lie. If you wouldn’t allow him to travel with you, he’d try to give you reasons as to why you should let him go. He’s complicated and I won’t sugarcoat that. You’ll find that I try to be realistic with these heavily romanticized NEETs.

❧ Regardless, if and when he goes on tour with you, except to have yet another mini assistant. He’d always try to offer fashion tips and elements of which you should include in your songs to appeal to the public. Although a NEET, he’d have a strong idea of what the fans are looking for and what you could do to be more appealing. However, he’d understand if you’d like to keep up with your own thing and stray from conforming. He’d be fine with whatever you want, but that wouldn’t stop his opinions and tips. Maybe he should become a musician.

❧ He’d get fussy over not having enough of your attention. His degree of fussiness wouldn’t become overbearing, but it’s always important to acknowledge the feelings of your partners to reach a conclusion. Remind him that you love him and he’ll eventually come around.

❧ Easily the best advice-giver. Can both solve your problems or be the shoulder you cry on. He’d be fantastic at helping you through the trials and tribulations that come from being a musician. While he might seem apathetic, he really isn’t and understands just how pressuring expectations can be. This star of hope has seen some things.

❧ Although it may seem easy to assume he’d only be there for the fame, that wouldn’t be his only motivator. He’d truly want to see his beloved grow beyond others. His confidence will skyrocket whilst on tour with you.

❧ He’d design most of your merch: very minimalist designs that fit in with almost all aesthetics. When all is said and done, he’d wear the clothes with pride. What a dork.

❧ Likes to post pictures of you with him on his social medias.

#headcanons #headcanon #osomatsu san #ososan #osomatsu san headcanons #ososan headcanons #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #osomatsu san content

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

Note

Hi Capri, you're recent "what if I have to go" post got me thinking. How would Leona, Ruggie, Jack and Idia react to an s/o (female) who wants to break up with them? Feel completely free to ignore/delete this If you want 💞💞

I'm not very good with angst but I hope this is good enough! You all have been so nice with asking me for Requests and I just wanna say that if there is a request I'm not comfortable or able to do, I will definitely inform said user that sent me the request,so if I haven't sent any to you it means I am working on your request (I'm just super slow on updates im sorry 😔) Okie that's it! thanks for reading and enjoy! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

A Sense of Abandonment

Leona Kingscholar

- He wouldn't take it so kindly.

- In the first place,being able to get as intimate as you did with him was hard enough but now you wanted to break it all up?

- "Sure" Is what he'll say, and from how casual and nonchalant it sounded, it was as if he didn't really care, but what he's really saying is "Are you fucking kidding me?"

- If you thought being his partner brought out his predatory possessiveness, you should think otherwise.

- Any other male getting near you was an offense to him now, and he doesn't hesitate to make his aggression known.

- He still acts like you're his and every single time you tell him off for it, he gives you that dull expression of his.

- Leona conflicts you.

- He says he doesn't care, acts cold to you, but then you confront him and and he just toys with your temper

- He's hurt and you've wounded his pride more than it already was before

- Of course you won't be forgiven so easily nor would he be able to forget you

- The way you always seemed to bring out his softer side, and how genuine you were with everything you did for him.

- How did it end up like this? How could he have lost something so valuable without being able to fight for it?

- The breakup leads to a deep rooted frustration for Leona, and before he gets over it, it's going to be a turbulent ride. For both parties.

Jack Howl

- This young pup would be both confused and extremely hurt.

- "Why?" Would be his first reaction to it and even when you try to tell him it wasn't anything personal, he'll see it as him failing to make the relationship work

- He'll put it in his mind that he wasn't good enough and that he had neglected your needs as a partner

- Jack is still rather protective over you but he doesn't really talk or even get near you like he would used to do before the break up

- He'll do a lot of self reflecting and even attempt to get back together, Though he'd see if you were comfortable with it of course

- Unlike Leona, he doesn't hold a grudge against you but whenever you're mentioned near him, Jack's expression turns hard and the heartbreak starts all over again as if it happened yesterday

- It's just a lot of confusion for this young male, and talking it out is the last thing he does because honestly,he doesn't know what to say

- He loved you, still does, but you didn't want to be with him anymore and there was nothing he could do to change it.

- Eventually,he moves on and realizes that in life not everything you love stays with you, but as long as he sees you happy and well, he's satisfied and doesn't disturb your social life or try to include himself in it

- Acceptance is hard but Jack learns to embrace it on his own and sees your falling out with him as a lesson for the next time he gets into a relationship.

Idia Shroud

- It wasn't really a surprise. He was expecting it.

- After all, someone as vibrant as you being with someone as dull as him? It was impossible from the beginning

- So Idia just nods and doesn't even spare a glance as you walked out the door.

- He was expecting it,so it doesn't affect him at all.

- Or so he thought.

- He's online and playing games as he always spends his time when his eyes shift to the one corner of the screen,where messages would pop out and there's one left unread.

- It's your name and it was sent a few weeks before the breakup.

- He's staring at it blankly, not even realising that his hand on the mouse drifts towards it and opens the message.

- [ "Oh my god, I didn't see the message icon until today lmaoo, HI IDIAAAAA." ]

- His chest caves in and for a moment, he doesn't know why he couldn't breath all of a sudden, or why his vision seemed to blur.

- He pushes away from his computer, hands trembling as it clutches his chest.

- Everything hurts.

- He wants to scream but when his mouth opens, nothing but a breathless gasp escapes him and Idia falls to the floor. His figure crumbled and hunched over.

- He can't fucking breath for God's sake,was he dying?

- Ortho finds the blue flamed male desperately trying to compose himself, and the first time he reaches out to touch him, Idia screams.

- "Get the fuck away from me!"

- It's shaky and harsh,almost a grating sound and it makes the younger boy flinch.

- Idia's eyes are just a pool of sorrow and once it fixes on Ortho, they seem to lose their colour.

- "Why..?" He murmurs, gasping for air. When he slams the ground with his fist, the room seemingly tilts and Idia's crying fills in the silence.

- Ortho comforts his brother, quietly listening to his sobs and senseless blabber.

- He keeps repeating the same questions

- "Why?"

- "Wasn't I good enough?"

- "Why didn't I stop her?"

- It's a combustion of anger and sorrow, and poor Idia doesn't handle it well. It was hard enough confronting his emotions when you came to confess to him, but now, you were gone and he was supposed to just be okay with it?

- He doesn't want to hate you, a part of him still hopes for the day you'd come back to him, but each time he somehow passes by you or even hear your name, he feels like burning the entire place down. So he will always find a way to avoid you.

- Idia doesn't even try to talk it out with you or entertain the thought of just being friends. He can't cope with it, thus it's best he did what you did which is go his own way without looking back.

- Ortho gets him back on track by distracting him with either work or new ideas for inventions, and as time passes on, Idia learns to not let his occasional heartbreak bother him as much

- Though a second relationship isn't something he'd dive right into, he might even reject the idea of love all together. But could you really blame him?

Ruggie Bucchi

- Ruggie wished he hadn't gotten so attached in the first place

- He should've known you were going to ditch him soon enough, everyone leaves behind dirt after all.

- He'll play it off like he never took the relationship seriously but it leaves a serious wound on him whether he admits it or not

- Like Idia he tries not to hate you for choosing to leave him but that slight tinge of hurt and betrayal he feels whenever you send him a smile and wave to him as if you didn't just crushed his heart ticks him off

- Ruggie just can't stand to be in the same room as you and whenever people ask him about you, he'll be quick to make the relationship seem like a joke to him

- He doesn't want to go to you and beg you to give him a second chance but he's grinding his teeth when he sees other guys get close to you

- Ruggie's heartbreak comes with Jealousy and anyone trying to take a chance with you is going to find themselves falling over their feet (literally), he'll use his unique magic and make you unapproachable to other guys, anything to make you feel as miserable as him

- There's times when he tries to figure out what went wrong or how he could've made you stay but then the frustration of it all would just lead back to only one solution; No one would wanna end up with a street rat like him.

- To say he'll move on is just another way of saying that as long as he doesn't have to stay inside the same social space as you he'll act like the relationship didn't even exist

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst wonderland Headcanons #twst wonderland angst #leona kingscholar #twst Leona #jack howl #twst jack #idia Shroud #twst idia #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twst x reader #angst headcanon

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luxury-leeches · 4 years

Text

Vampiric admirer

“Hi! Could I ask for a headcanon or image where there is a vampire rocker (like a bad boy) with a s/o who is a cute, shy, half gothic and with girl [(who doesn’t like being close to him because of his negative energy but he tries at any cost to approach her?) Like a sofy yandere]? Thank you so much for your attention and have a great day/ afternoon/ light - strange nameless”

I tried my best, so hopefully it’s fine! I don’t know much about witchcraft or paganism so if I did something wrong please let me know for future reference! If you want me to change anything or make a part two please let me know, strange nameless!

Word Count: 1,671

You loved this cafe, you’ve been going here ever since you were small. Your parents were part of a coven and they met here every Thursday for lunch. But that was years ago, your parents have moved with the coven and thus, you couldn’t part. The cafe baristas knew your name, a tiefling named Axel, a gnoll named Sebastion, and an Orc named Jackson. The cafe was owned by a wonderful couple that once used to be apart of your previous coven and even had a small store within that held all an aspiring witch could want. It did quite well, what with all the foot traffic the city provided but you still went every day.

But, that was until he showed up. A few months ago a new band had shown up, made up of monster all alike, you didn’t really pay them any mind since they played hard rock and beyond what most people thought, you mainly listened to lofi playlists, indie rock, pop, and alt music but even you could admit, they weren’t bad. But that’s not what made you stop going to the cafe, oh no. It was a vampire named Matthew but he insisted people call him Eri.

Now you first met Eri when his band had shown up at the gothic cafe, and started making a ruckus. You didn’t pay them any mind until Axel said something. “Could they be any louder?” they chuckled as they took a sip from their latte, his long hair swinging ever so slightly as they leaned over the counter in front of you, a smirk brought upon their lips as their eyes looked beyond your frame. You set your book down in front of you as you looked over your shoulder at the group that was hooting and hollering in the cafe, annoying people around them obviously.

There were 5 of them, a naga, an oni, a mothman, an elf, and a vampire. The naga was a piebald from what you could tell, he was also a type of python but you couldn’t say, his skin decent darkness but the lightness of an everyday latte, their tail different shades of greys and the lightest of pink even an artist couldn’t imagine, had a sleeve of tattoos on both arms made up of different combined designs, hair longer than their human torso and white as snow, with two piercing green eyes to match. The oni was beautiful with skin a soft bluish-purple, piercing pink eyes all three of them, arms muscular with a few what looked like tribal tattoos colored black, hair fuffed out and jutting in all different directions with a few strands dyed blue, and his teeth jutting outwards that looked like they could poke an eye out of he wasn’t careful. The elf was just as beautiful if not more than the oni, their skin was an opalescent white, hair in a messy bun that was a wonderful lavender, long ears pierced to with all types of styles with mainly large gauges, sapphire blue eyes, and fingers with small delicate looking rings. The mothman was giant, brooding shoulders, fur, and wings a dark blue, fluffy antenna sitting atop their head, and bright unsaturated red littered throughout his fur and the tip of their wings, with black eyes the darkest of coal. The vampire? Now he was interesting

There was something about him, maybe his perfectly tanned skin? Was it his unusual green eyes for a vampire? His large canines that only barely jutted out of his lips? Was it the piercing that littered his eyes and some of the skin? Maybe his shaved sides and short fluffy red mohawk? The black ripped sleeved vest that was littered in patches that barely covered his decently muscular arms? Or maybe it was his negative energy he secreted like sap from a tree.

You hummed slightly as you turned back towards Axel who held a devilish glint in his eyes. “Whatcha think of them?” He hummed out as he pulled his apron up and tied it around himself. “Annoying.” You mumbled as you took a sip of your lavender and chamomile tea from your cup. “I think I’m gonna go home,” You said as jumped out of your bar stool, your knee-length black skater skirt switching slightly with the movement. You grabbed your dull gray cardigan from the back of the chair and pulled it on, pulling your satchel on but not before you put your book back within. You didn’t notice the vampire boy approaching you until you went to reach for your drink, only for it to be grabbed by a dull nailed hand. “What kind of drink is this?” He said begrudgingly as he sniffed it then took a swig only to spit it out. You already hated him, his negative energy, his loudness, and he’s gone and ruined your tea!

You glared at him slightly as you took a few steps back and went towards the cash register to order another tea. “H-hey! Why’d you walk away from me, I was only joking around!” he said nervously chuckling as he walked after you and stood beside you, hands on his hips as he looked down at you with a smile. You simply ignored him bringing your arms close to you, gripping your satchel close, and whispered your order into Jackson's ear your shyness taking over. You waited awkwardly for your drink and as soon as it was ready, you sprinted out of there never to be seen for months.

Any time you went out he was there, whether he was with his bandmates or not, you always seemed to run into each other uncomfortably. He was relentless with trying to get you to talk to him, his negative energy shrouding him and strangling you slowly anytime he stood near you for over five minutes. You being a meek little thing could hardly spit a few words out near him, not like you wanted to, but sometimes he caught you while you were talking to a friend or ordering something.

But one day, while it was storming, there was a knock at your door. You peaked out of the closed curtains behind the couch you sat upon, but it was too dark to see who was out there. Thinking it may have been a friend of yours, you got up from your couch and opened the door. There before you was a shivering Eri, hair wet, and a shaking smile on his face. “Hey, lil bit!” He said, but you closed the door on him spooked. “Wait Wait! I just want to talk!” He yelled out as he banged again your door some more. After about five minutes of consistent knocking, you finally gave in.

You didn’t say anything as you stepped to the side and opened the door towards him. He stood there a shocked expression for a second before he ran inside, while you were just about to change your mind as well. Closing the door you turned to him. “Why are you here?” you mumbled as you walked past him to grab a towel from the hallway closet. “What? I can’t say hi to my favorite lil human?” You held the towel back out to him, with him accepting it with a smirk on his lips. You peered at him with a face that said ‘Are you serious?’ causing him to chuckle slightly. “Okay okay, just don’t gimme that look sugar.” He threw the now damp towel on the floor as he walked closer to your form. With every step forward, you took two back slowly backing yourself against a wall.

“I just wanna talk.” He said again as he stood in front of you, his figure towering over you, with his hands planted against your hips. “You’re a tough lil thing to find, sugar! You had me running all over this huge city just to find your lil self, ain’t that right?” You nodded slightly as wiggle around slightly, both out of embarrassment and of nervousness. “Wh-what about it?” you asked as you peered any place but his face. You gasped slightly as his breath hit your neck. “My my my, you smell absolutely divine, sugar.” You whimpered slightly as he rubbed his nose against the crevice between your shoulder and your neck, your hands gripping his damp shirt.

“I just wanna know why you’ve been avoiding me, sugar. Every time I try to talk to ya, get to know ya, ya leave me high and dry! Why is that, lil bit?” You shook like a leaf in the autumn breeze as he scrapped his canines against your neck, humming slightly. “Y-you scare me,” you barely squeaked out as he picked you up and carried you back to the couch, setting you down and sitting right beside you. “I scare you? How do I scare, lil bit?” He chuckled at your scared expression. “I-I’m not...sure but-but you scare me.” He groaned in distaste as he leaned against the back of the couch, his back popping loudly in return. “Well, I’m sorry I scare you, sugar. I’m just trying to get to know ya, I swear.”

“Well, you kept following me around like like a stalker!” You said scooting away from him causing him to peer at you with his hands behind his head. “Well, tell me how to make it up to you, sugar. I could take you back to the cafe, you haven’t been back there for a while, yeah? Your friends miss you, they keep blaming me for your disappearance and it’s kind of annoying honestly.” You sat there for a while, trying to figure out all outcomes. You signed softly and you peered up at him through your eyelashes while your hands fiddled with your fingers nervously. “If it’ll get you to leave me alone...”

He smirked as he stood up and walked towards your door and opening it, looking over his shoulder at you. “It’s a date, lil bit.” And with that, he walked out.

I have no idea where I was going with this so please forgive me! Requests are open!!!

#vampire #exophilia #monster boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire boyfriend #male monster x female reader #male vampire x female reader #male vampire #male monster #female reader #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x girl #monster x human

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tenspontaneite · 4 years

Text

Cat’s Cradle (Chapter 2/?)

In which Hikaru's life undergoes some rapid adjustments due to the unceremonious entry of a particularly weird cat therein.

(Chapter length: 8.5k. Ao3 link)

---

Hikaru wasn’t entirely sure what he did for the next few minutes. Either way, they concluded with him absolutely blubbering, the rims of his eyes swollen with tears and his cheeks salt-burned and stinging. At some point, the cat – Sai – migrated to his side, and patted at his leg with a white paw. Hikaru looked at the blurry white shape and, caught between at least four different intense emotions, started laughing. It was sort of sobbing at the same time, but the point was, he was laughing. A little hysterically.

“You’re a fucking cat.” He gasped, between uneven bursts of tears and laughter. He had no idea what was going on. What had happened to his life? What had happened to this week? It was going to kill him, honestly.

Sai huffed at him, ears very slightly slanted backwards, and that just set Hikaru’s laugh-crying off even worse. It looked like Sai, was the thing, with that vaguely sulky expression he got when Hikaru was being particularly unreasonable, just…translated to a fuzzy cat face. It was stupid. So stupid.

“A fucking cat.” He said again, utterly unable to get over it. He laughed, and gasped, and caught something approaching a measure of breath. He shuddered, and breathed, and giggled, then breathed again. “Okay.” He muttered, a little more calmly. “…You’re a fucking cat. You’re…” He swallowed back a fresh burst of hysterical tears, then matter-of-factly reached out and pulled Sai-the-cat to his chest. The cat in question made a surprised chirping sound at it, and he was fluffy, and small, and that was so weird when it was Sai. Whenever he’d hugged Sai before, he’d been bigger, and shrouded in so many robes that he was twice the size he should be. “You’re so little.” Hikaru blurted, stupidly, and received a vaguely disgruntled noise for his troubles. He held Sai up to look at him, utterly uncertain what to make of this situation. “You’re a cat.” He said again, for approximately the hundredth time.

Sai made a grumbling murmur that was definitely approaching a growl, and glowered at him. I did notice that, Hikaru, he might have said, if he’d been capable of it. And that was a thing, wasn’t it, Sai was here, and actually alive, though in a thoroughly unexpected form, but he couldn’t even talk now. And…

“I can’t believe you got yourself reincarnated or whatever and you still can’t play your own Go stones.” Hikaru said, and Sai hissed at him, thoroughly displeased. He was probably feeling very salty about the situation as well. But…he had got those first hands onto the goban somehow, hadn’t he? “How did you get the first bit of the game onto the board, anyway?”

Sai’s ears flickered, and then he squirmed easily out of Hikaru’s hands. It was kind of weird, actually – his grip had been pretty firm, but…Sai was unusually strong. Maybe that was how he’d managed to jump nearly to a second-floor window.

The cat padded neatly over to the stack of textbooks Hikaru had noticed earlier, and then moved up to sit on it. Then, very very carefully, he demonstrated how he could very clumsily lodge a stone between two of his toes, holding it in place with the other paw, before putting it back down where it had been. He had to pat it into place once it was on the board, as it had skidded away a little, but…well, he could sort of place stones. He looked up at Hikaru, the expression on his face saying, clear as day, see? I absolutely can place stones, Hikaru, you take that back.

“Consider me told.” He said, giggling again, and for a moment thought it was going to bubble back up into hysterics, but…he sighed, put a hand to his face, and collapsed backwards onto the floor. Sai made an alarmed mow sound, and quickly padded over, staring anxiously down at him from fairly close proximity, given he wasn’t all that tall.

“Maow?” He asked, looking a little worried.

“I can’t believe this.” He said, conversationally. “This is just…fucking nuts. I’d literally just started accepting that you were gone, and now you’re here and you’re a cat.”

Sai offered a thin purr that seemed like it was meant to be comforting, but given he still looked hilariously worried, it was mostly just…funny, and a bit endearing.

“Why did you have to be a cat?” He asked, suddenly a little exasperated. “My mum is allergic to cats.”

The cat meowed sadly, and looked down at him with wide pleading eyes. It was a much more effective expression now that he was a cat.

Hikaru sat up, shaking his head. “I mean, obviously I have to keep you.” He said, and received a happy trill in response. “What? It’s the only option. If I don’t then you either get sold to someone or put in a shelter, or you have to live wild. We’re not letting that happen. Duh.” He said, and Sai’s fur went a bit bristly at the thought. Maybe he’d been worried about that? If he hadn’t been able to get Hikaru to realise who he was…

Hikaru shivered. Yeah, it didn’t really bear thinking about.

“I guess if my mum won’t be okay with you, I’ll have to move out.” He thought, out loud. “It’s not easy to find cheap apartments that allow animals….but I guess I could always just not tell them. You’re not a normal cat, it’s not like you’re going to pee on the walls and scratch the furniture.”

Sai produced a very insulted mrow! At that, which neatly conveyed his thoughts on the matter.

“And yeah, that’s another thing.” Hikaru said, pensively. “You’re not a normal cat. But are you just like that because you’re Sai, or because you’re actually…a bakeneko, or nekomata, or something? Like…I don’t really know much about what those are meant to be able to do. Set things on fire, maybe? Have you noticed any weird powers? I mean, you can jump way higher than normal cats, but…anything else?”

The cat shrugged at him, helplessly. It was a really weird gesture to see on a cat. After a moment, he stood and walked over to the minifridge that Hikaru had in his room but didn’t actually use for the purpose. It was never plugged in so he just used it as storage. It was metal, though, and when Sai held up a paw and extended his claws, Hikaru was definitely watching.

Then, with a horrible screeching sound, Sai proceeded to score several long lines through metal. He retracted the claws and padded back again. “Mow.” He said, a little smugly.

“…Yeah.” Hikaru said, for lack of anything else to say. “Okay.” And this just after Hikaru said that Sai wouldn’t scratch any furniture.

He sat silently for several minutes, mind working furiously over all of the implications. So far Sai could jump stupidly high and scratch metal, but he was still pretty young. Would he gain any other weird abilities? Would Shimura be weird about letting Hikaru have him? Would his mother be weird about letting Hikaru have him? How would he and Sai communicate, when he couldn’t talk? How would Hikaru have to care for him? What did Sai even eat, anyway? Cat food? That seemed…demeaning.

In the end, Hikaru leant to the side and fished around in his backpack for a pen, and then tore off a bit of notepaper from one of his notebooks. He scrawled a quick note on it – ‘Figured out what’s up with this cat, I need to talk to you about him tomorrow.’ He figured there wasn’t any need to sign it. He set it aside, and gestured at it. “I’ll want you to take that to Shimura tonight when you go back, and then…I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

He could have done it today, but…frankly, he was feeling pretty emotionally exhausted right now.

He shook his head and sighed. “You’re a pain in the backside, Sai.” He said, finally, and the cat grumbled at him. “But, you know what…let’s just finish this game. We’ll figure everything out later.”

And so Hikaru sat down with a cat to play Go. It was absolutely fucking ridiculous. He also had to stop several times throughout to weep into his arm a little, usually corresponding to the most archetypal Sai-like moves, but he thought he could be excused for that. Predictably, Hikaru lost.

He’d never in his life been so overjoyed at such a crushing defeat.

----

“Hi, kid.” Shimura greeted him at the door, and waved him in. “I got your note. You said you figured out what’s up with the demon cat?”

“Yeah, I did. Where is he?”

“Just in the next room. There’s no point trying to keep him cooped up when he’s that smart.” Just then, Sai apparently heard his voice, because there was a loud and excited string of chirruping cat-sounds, and then he was practically sprinting through the doorway to weave around Hikaru’s feet, feathery white tail held high. He was bright-eyed and seemed exceptionally cheerful. The neighbour raised an eyebrow at the sight, which meant it was apparently unusual.

Hikaru stared at him for a second, the surreality of it being Sai occurring to him once again. “Hi, Sai.” He said, grinning reflexively just at being able to say that. “You alright?”

The cat nodded happily, then skipped away into the next room, stopping to look behind him to make sure Hikaru was following. Obediently, Hikaru moved forwards, Shimura trailing after him.

“Sai?” The man asked, curiously.

“That’s his name. It’s part of what I’ve got to talk to you about, anyway.” Hikaru nodded, and went to sit beside Sai on the part of the sofa he’d migrated to.

Shimura made a token attempt at offering refreshments, but his hospitality instincts clearly weren’t very strong, and he readily accepted Hikaru’s hand-wave without any fuss. He settled on the armchair and eyed Sai curiously. “Weird to see you so cheerful.” He said, to the cat, who deliberately turned his nose up in the air as he curled into Hikaru’s side. Shimura snorted and looked up at his first. “Well then, out with it. What’s up with this unholy thing my cats produced?” Sai did not seem to appreciate that wording, ears flicking back and eyes narrowing with distaste.

“Okay.” Hikaru took a breath. “So, it turns out this cat is actually someone I know, reincarnated. That’s why he’s been following me around.”

Shimura stared. And stared. He looked between Hikaru and the cat. “Are you fucking with me?” He asked, eventually. “That seems very damn unlikely.”

“I’m not fucking with you.” He assured. “I’d actually been, you know, mourning him. Because a few months ago he just…disappeared. But it’s definitely him.”

Shimura looked at Sai. Sai nodded. “…Well, damn.” He said, finally. “I guess it’s not any more unlikely than his impossible genetics. You know I had him tested? A few weeks in it was damn obvious he was growing too fast, so I sent off some samples.”

Hikaru looked at Sai curiously, as though he’d expected the cat to tell him about it. “Really? That’s cool. Was there anything weird?”

“Ha.” Shimura barked, and leaned back in his chair. “That cat, according to his DNA, is meant to be short-tailed, short-furred, with a blue blotched tabby pattern and white marks, and amber eyes. I thought I’d somehow sampled the wrong cat at first, but nope. Instead of how he’s meant to look, he’s…that.” He gestured at Sai, who remained long-tailed, long-furred, and utterly white all over. “I’m pretty sure he’s got extra vertebrae in his tail, too. He won’t sit still long enough for me to count them, but that tail is too fucking long to be normal.”

“Is it?” Hikaru asked, looking at Sai. The tail in question swished to the side. “I wonder if you’re going to grow another one, Sai.” The cat looked distinctly uncomfortable at the thought, and curled his single extant tail tightly around himself.

“I think nekomata tails sort of start splitting at the end until they’re two tails.” Shimura interjected. “He could just be a bakeneko, though.”

“I don’t really know the difference.” Hikaru admitted, and Sai looked up inquisitively, as if he was curious as well.

“Yeah, well, when you’ve got a cat like that, you research cat demons.” Shimura said, shrugging. “Both of those types have been mentioned with weird abilities, like standing upright, and talking-“ Sai looked very excited at that- “-and sometimes even shapeshifting-“ Sai actually trilled. “-but nekomata are a bit different. They're the ones with two tails, they’re meant to have fire and necromancy powers, and they’re pretty much always evil.”

Sai produced a very displeased hiss. Shimura ignored him.

Hikaru snorted. “Sai doesn’t have it in him to be evil. And if he did all you'd need to do is show him a frog and he'd give up right there.” The cat looked tremendously wounded at that.

Shimura grinned. “What, he doesn’t like frogs?”

“He hates them,” Hikaru assured, ignoring the betrayed meow at his side. “Anything that even looks a bit like a frog turns him into a complete mess, it’s hilarious.”

Sai hissed at him, just slightly, but on account of him being so small and fuzzy it wasn’t particularly threatening. Even though he could scratch through metal.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, if he acts up.” Shimura's amused grin flattened somewhat, becoming a wry and slanted half-smile. “So the cat's supposedly your dead friend. How do you know he’s not just...brainwashing you, or something, to make you think that?”

Hikaru stared, and actually thought about it. He didn’t have any doubts, of course, not since the game. But someone who didn’t play Go wouldn’t get that, really. He tried anyway. “We played a game of Go. There’s no one else in the world that plays like he does.” He shrugged, leaning back.

Shimura cast him a sceptical look.

“Trust me, anyone who’s really good at Go would agree. This cat is the best player in Japan.” He gestured at Sai, who sort of drew himself up in a very regal manner. His body language was somehow even more expressive now that he was a cat.

“...Well, if you say so.” Shimura said, finally. “It doesn’t matter that much to me. You’re going to be taking him off my hands, right?”

Hikaru, who had sort of been biding his time and waiting for the right moment to bring that up, blinked. He nodded warily. “Sai’s important.” He said, uneasy, and automatically settled a hand onto white fur as though to shield it from view. “I...can't really let him go anywhere except with me. And...I know that’s kind of awkward, because...”

“Because he’s a cat I bred and therefore legally own?” Shimura suggested, voice mild.

Sai's ears flattened straight back, and he hissed. Not quietly, or hesitantly. His fur rose just enough to bristle at Hikaru’s skin.

He winced, and said “He's a person, not an animal, and just because – look, I’ll...buy him, or whatever, if I have to. I don’t know how much fancy cats are meant to cost,” he paused, long enough for Shimura to name a somewhat hair raising figure. “...and yeah, I could afford that, especially now I’m working again, but...” He looked at Sai, still sitting angry at the implication of ownership. “It’s not right. I’ll pay if I have to, I’m not letting him end up...somewhere else...but.” He stopped, at a loss for words.

Shimura sighed, and raised a hand as though to forestall any more words. “Yeah, kid, I get you.” He said, wearily. “Feels a bit too much like being a slave owner to ask for money for him. Besides, even if I were a shittier person, holding a demon hostage for money sounds like a great way to get myself in deep supernatural shit.”

Sai settled a bit, ears outwards rather than flattened back, but his eyes were narrow and resentful. Hikaru glanced at him, and then back at Shimura, feeling reluctantly optimistic. “...So....?” He ventured.

“So, you can take the bloody cat.” He said, and Hikaru’s breath came out almost explosively. “I’ll give you his fucking pedigree and everything, not that it’ll be much good to you. Don’t you have to check with your parents before you take a cat home, though?”

“I already decided that I’ll just move out if my mum doesn’t let Sai stay.” Hikaru said, hoping desperately that that wouldn’t come to pass. “I might have to, but if I do I can afford it.” Provided he kept winning games, at least.

Shimura eyed him dubiously. “Well, that’s dedication, which I always like to see.” He said, finally. “But aren’t you a bit young to be moving out? How old even are you, twelve?”

“Fourteen.” Hikaru corrected, a little balefully, and received a dismissive noise in response. “And it’s not too weird for young pros. A friend of mine moved out a good while ago. If I need to I’ll do it.”

“Hmph. If you say so.” He sat back. “Your family not like cats or something?”

“It’s mostly that my mum’s allergic.” He shrugged uneasily, and Sai pressed against his side.

“...Well, in all likelihood, you could call him hypoallergenic.”

Hikaru looked up, startled. “What does that mean?”

“Means he might set off allergies less than normal. Even if his body works the same as a normal cat for allergenic purposes, he doesn’t wash himself like a normal cat does, and the thing people are usually allergic to in cats is a protein in the saliva.”

“Er.” Hikaru looked down at Sai, whose ears flattened very slightly. He looked away as if embarrassed. “So what, people get allergic to cats because cats lick the thing all over their fur?”

“Pretty much. It’s produced in the skin as well, but the main source is the saliva, which is groomed into the fur. And he doesn’t do that, which makes more sense if he used to be human, I suppose. So you’ll have to brush his fur daily and maybe bathe him sometimes to keep him clean.” Shimura snorted. “He doesn’t seem to mind warm water too much, at least, but he was not happy with me washing him. Maybe he’ll tolerate you better.”

Hikaru stared, a thread of insistent hilarity trying to squirm out of him at that knowledge. He kept quiet for a few seconds as he tried desperately not to laugh, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll tell my mum he’s...hypoallergenic? Hypoallergenic.” He glanced sideways at Sai and tried desperately not to giggle. Sai eyed him back, clearly disgruntled.

Shimura shrugged. “Well, good luck, kid.” He said, leaning back. “I can host him for you till you sort out your situation or whatever. Hope the talk goes well.”

Hikaru could get behind that sentiment.

But, unfortunately, the talk did not go well.

---

Mitsuko listened long enough to hear ‘hypoallergenic' and was not especially impressed, and she listened long enough to hear ‘I'll pay for feeding him myself’ which she could at least vaguely approve of, but when Hikaru started on ‘Shimura-san said I can have him ' and ‘if it's a big problem I can just move out ' she had decidedly had enough.

“Hikaru.” She said, firmly and decisively enough that his jaw clicked shut automatically. “You stay here. I'm going to talk to Shimura-san about this.”

His eyes went wide and he tried to protest “Wait no, you don’t need to-“

She shot him a look, and he fell mutinously silent. She wasn’t certain he wouldn’t just follow her the instant she shut the door, but she could live with that. “I’ll be back in a while.” She said, and left with the contents of her usual handbag to commence the journey to the neighbour.

Generally speaking, Mitsuko was the very picture of a polite and demure Japanese housewife, just as in her youth she had generally been the picture of a demure and obedient daughter. One would not think her the sort to harbour any sort of temper. One would be wrong. One would be very, very wrong.

Mitsuko held the reins of that well-hidden, well-contained, and utterly vindictive temper very carefully indeed as she knocked on the neighbour's door. When it opened, and she recognised Shimura-san, she smiled politely. She thought that, from his sudden wariness, her ire was exactly as close to the surface as she wished it to be.

“Shimura-san,” she said, pleasantly, without a trace of antipathy, and yet still somehow making the man warier. “I would be interested in discussing why my son has just told me that you offered him a cat, and I would be especially interested in hearing why he seems to think that moving out is a perfectly acceptable option for being able to keep that cat.”

He stared at her for several long seconds, expression turning distinctly weary and satisfyingly resigned. She waited patiently. Finally, he said “I’ll happily invite you in to talk, Shimura-san. But please be aware the house might not be good for your allergies.”

Mitsuko nodded curtly, noting that Hikaru had apparently informed the man of her cat allergy. “I should be perfectly fine, but thank you for your concern.” She answered, and allowed herself to be invited in, and accepted an offer of tea from her host as she settled in the sitting room. She inspected her surroundings while she waited, noting that there were traces of cat hair everywhere and that she could already feel the tickle of it in her throat, the itchiness around her eyes. She would cope.

Movement flickered in the corner of her eye. She turned, and saw just the hint of a wide-eyed and familiar feline face disappearing around the corner of a doorway. She watched to see if it would reappear, but it didn’t. In the end Shimura-san returned with her green tea and she accepted it graciously, sipping politely as he took a seat in the armchair.

“...So.” the man said, when she had been regarding him with a heavy and expectant gaze for several seconds. “I get the impression your son didn’t tell you everything.”

Mitsuko blinked, and found herself off-balance. “...Why do you say so?” she questioned, faltering from her steady ground of maternal indignation.

“I get the impression you'd have started on a different topic if he had, is all.” The man answered, and she eyed him a little disapprovingly.

“Hikaru certainly isn’t the most open child. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had failed to mention something.” She agreed after a moment. “But I have difficulty seeing what could change the fact of the matter, which is your offering an animal to my son, who knows full well he isn’t allowed it.”

“The cat isn’t just a cat.” Shimura-san said, frankly and without hesitation. “Forgive me for how ridiculous this sounds, but he’s a fully intelligent supernatural creature that has befriended your son.”

Mitsuko sat, utterly still, and felt so incredulous that it bubbled up into a simmering anger, hissing as though water in a kettle. “Shimura-san, I have never heard anything less believable in my life, and I wonder that you think it acceptable to say such things.” She said, voice utterly icy. Was this what he had been saying to Hikaru? Her eyes narrowed into visible distaste and she didn’t try to stop them.

“I have proof.” The man said, and...he didn’t sound bothered at all. She stared at him, noting how he still looked tired, still looked resigned, but somehow perfectly confident regardless. She would have expected at least an ounce of contrition from him, at least some trace, but there was none. He spouted such ridiculous words and was utterly shameless as they passed his lips. It was almost outrageous. “Plenty of it.”

She eyed him silently, wishing very strongly to put aside the stupidity of humouring him. “Oh?” she asked instead, very unimpressed, and waited to see what he would say.

“The cat himself is a physical impossibility. I can explain the reasons why, if you want. There’s quite a few.”

“Please, by all means.” Mitsuko prompted coldly.

Shimura-san nodded, and sat back. “You’ve seen him around, I think? He's a white cat with blue eyes, large ears, a long tail, and a wholly different body type and face to either of his parents or ancestors for at least five generations. Some of that could have been random chance, like the long tail. The coat and eye colour though are actually not possible, genetically.” He seemed to consider his words for a moment, apparently disregarding her disapproving stare. “It's not possible, considering his parents, for him to be a completely white cat and have blue eyes. That just is plain impossible, it’s not something that can happen naturally, because of how white coats work with cats.”

He paused, as if to give her an opening to speak, and she accepted it. “I don’t claim to know much about genetics, Shimura-san. But I understand it’s possible for random mutations to happen sometimes. Surely this cat could simply be a unique case.” She suggested, not convinced in the least.

His lips quirked upwards at the edges, as though amused. “I wondered the same thing, at first.” He said, and shrugged. “Which is one of the reasons I sent off his blood to be tested in a lab.” He met her suddenly uncertain eyes with the same tired confidence, even nonchalance, he’d been maintaining the whole time. “It was expensive, but – Shindou-san, please understand this: that cat looks nothing like his DNA says he should, which is completely and utterly impossible. If he were just a random mutation we would see that in the blood. Instead, he’s running around looking like he is despite the tests suggesting he should be just like his siblings. Which, by the way, he is now about three times the size of.”

Her brow furrowed, and she blinked. “...What?” she said, dubiously. “He didn’t seem very large when I saw him.”

“I mean he’s growing more quickly than a cat should.” The man elaborated. “He looks like he’s over twice his actual age. And rapid ageing of that kind is another completely impossible and unheard of thing.”

She stared for a long moment, and sighed. “Look, Shimura-san, you have to understand how ridiculous this sounds.” She did not outright say ‘I think you’re possibly insane and I don’t trust any evidence you care to show me’, but she thought the implication was in the words regardless.

He hummed, still unbothered, and glanced briefly to the doorway. “Well, it’s true, me telling you this stuff isn’t going to be all that convincing. If you want proper proof, you should just talk to him.”

Mitsuko eyed him dubiously. “Talk...to the cat.”

The man smiled wryly at her. “He can’t talk properly, but he can nod and shake his head and all. I’ll let him convince you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped, seeing a white shape appear around the doorframe in that very moment, as though summoned. It was the same white cat, young and graceful, with startling blue eyes. It lingered in the doorway nervously, ears held outwards and tail lashing slowly. Following her gaze, Shimura-san looked over and saw it. “Hah. You were listening in, were you? He asked, and it was very plain that he was asking the cat.

The cat straightened, almost haughtily, and then stepped carefully into the room. It looked up at her, and approached at a slow and sedate pace until it was a bare metre from her legs. Then, in a motion too deliberate to be mistaken, it bowed. Bowed. Mitsuko stared, and suppressed the impulse to bow back.

She looked up at the neighbour, who only gestured expectantly at the cat. She couldn’t shake the odd suspicion that he was playing some ridiculous joke, that he was waiting for her to talk to the cat and then laugh at how he'd fooled her. But surely there was no reason for him to do such a thing, even if he was insane.

Finally, she swallowed the self- consciousness, and conceded to the attempt. “Cat-san,” she said, very dubiously. “I am told you are intelligent.”

The cat...nodded. suddenly she felt a little light-headed. She reminded herself that nodding was well within the scope of behaviours an animal could be trained into.

“You’ll forgive me if I need to confirm that. I’d like to test this.” She told the cat, as if she believed it were possible for a cat to fully understand the speech of a human. The cat nodded again, and she decided that she absolutely would not be relying on a cat's head movements for something like this. “Please tap your left paw four times on the floor.” She requested, and waited.

She expected the cat to nod, or to do nothing, or perhaps even to shake its head, as Shimura-san had indicated it knew how to do that. She did not for a moment believe the ridiculous concept of a random housecat being a supernatural and highly intelligent creature. She expected everything except that which actually happened: the cat raised its left paw, tapped it on the flooring, and then did it thrice more.

Mitsuko went utterly still. Shimura-san, for his part, didn't comment, or move. He only watched with interest.

The cat watched her, too. Its blue eyes were utterly uncanny. Too intelligent. Too aware. Too focused.

But that was ridiculous. She inhaled quickly, and huffed her breath out again. “Your fur is black,” she said abruptly, and the cat and neighbour blinked at her with confusion. “If that is true, nod your head. If false, shake your head.”

The cat shook its head. Her pulse quickened, shocked again, but she couldn’t believe it. Surely, surely, it was a fluke. Somehow, it wasn’t significant. It wasn’t true.

“The weather today is very cloudy. Stand up if true, or tap your paw three times if false.” She instructed, and couldn’t help but inhale at how the cat craned its neck to the window as if to make sure. The cat tapped a paw three times, and indeed, the sky outside was perfectly clear.

It couldn’t be real. Couldn’t be true. She gave the cat instruction after instruction, even had it jump up onto a chair to make sure it was a real animal with a proper range of natural motion, and got more and more desperate to find some way to deny what was right in front of her. She did not believe in such fantastical things. She didn’t.

“Tell me, Cat-san, do you know basic mathematics?” she questioned, and looking startled, the cat nodded. So she presented fingers on her hand and had the cat tap out the number, had the cat tap its paw for the solutions to basic addition and subtraction and finally there just wasn’t any denying it any longer.

Mitsuko sat back in the chair and rubbed at her itching eyes, and didn't say anything for at least a minute. Finally, Shimura-san ventured to speak.

“Has he convinced you yet?” The man asked, and the cat looked up at her expectantly, as if asking the same thing. Well? Its face seemed to ask. Are you convinced?

She looked back at the cat, her emotions rendered quiescent and muffled by what felt like a thick blanket of shock. She wasn’t certain what to think. “God help me, I think he has.” She admitted, exhaling carefully, and noted the way the cat and man both seemed to relax. What a preposterous situation. Surely she was dreaming. She sighed again and glanced up to meet the neighbour’s eyes. “I still don’t understand, though, why the cat being a supernatural intelligent creature is reason for you to offer him to Hikaru.”

“Oh, right.” Shimura-san said in tones of sudden comprehension, as though he had forgotten to mention something critical, which might well be the case. “Yeah, sorry. So it turns out this cat was so obsessed with your son because he’s actually a friend of his reincarnated, or something.”

The words hit Mitsuko like a blow to the stomach. Her eyes widened and her hand rose to her mouth, shocked far more by that than even the undeniable intelligence of the cat. Said cat, now looking decidedly anxious, crouched down a little as if he wanted to hide. “A-“ She started, faintly, and looked at the cat. “A friend of his – but – surely that means-“ She stopped, aghast, the unfinished sentence playing out behind her teeth: surely that means a friend of his must have died.

“He told me he’d been in mourning recently. Don’t know if you knew anything about that.” Shimura-san looked sympathetic now, for all the good it did her. She couldn’t quite come to terms with the words, but – it made sense. It made so much sense.

It had been so sudden. Hikaru had run off to visit some place or the other and when he came back…he’d been so different. So subdued, as though all the life had drained out of him. He’d stopped playing Go, stopped going to his matches, stopped meeting his friends…as though someone had reached out and switched off the vivacity and passion and enthusiasm he’d once held. She hadn’t known what to think. He wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t talk to her, or even Akari-chan. He wouldn’t talk, but-

“He was grieving.” She murmured to herself, utterly stricken, and felt pain well up in her chest at the thought of what he’d been suffering, alone, without even a word to her about what he was going through. She wondered who it was that had died. Not Isumi-san, of course, but what of his other Go friends? Was it someone she had met, or heard of? Was it someone she hadn’t? She looked down at the cat, and wondered who it was sitting there.

It should have taken more thought, to accept that an apparently unnatural cat bore the reincarnated soul of one of her son’s friends. She had doubted the concept of the cat himself so much, so why not this? But…

Hikaru had been grieving. Of course he had. Of course that was what she’d been missing.

“I think I need to speak with my son.” She said, quietly, and rose from the chair. She suppressed a sneeze as the motion disturbed the air, bringing who-knew how many allergens into her system as she breathed. “Please excuse me.”

“Seems like he’s kept a lot from you.” The man nodded, and he did seem very understanding. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Mitsuko allowed herself to be shown out to the door, head reeling and heart aching, and swept her eyes quickly over the street. By some small mercy, Hikaru hadn’t followed to eavesdrop, or if he had he’d already abandoned the effort. She strode quickly across the road to the not-so-distant door of her home, turned the key in the door-

Hikaru rose from his chair the instant she entered, faltering half-standing as he looked at her. There was something heartbreakingly uncertain in his expression, something anxious and afraid. She wasn’t sure when she’d last seen him looking so vulnerable. He hid so much from her.

Before he could say anything, she crossed the space between them in a few steps and pulled him into her arms. He was so tall now. But he tensed as she embraced him, then trembled oddly, air escaping him in what felt like a failed attempt at speaking. “I wish you’d told me,” She whispered, every word hurting. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it. You were grieving and I didn’t see it.”

He shook in her arms. “He…” His voice broke off at the first word. He swallowed and tried again. “What did he – what did he tell you?”

“A lot of things that we’ll have to discuss.” She said, as gently as she could. “But the most important thing to me is what he said about you. You lost someone, Hikaru? That’s why you’ve been so withdrawn these past months?”

Her son sniffed, like he was trying not to cry. He always had been an emotional boy, even when he grew older and started trying to pretend he was untouchable. He felt things so strongly. “…Yeah.” He said, in a very small voice.

Mitsuko exhaled, her heart breaking for him all over again. She raised a hand to stroke carefully over his hair. “I’m so very sorry for you, Hikaru. There’s nothing worse than losing someone you love.” She carefully did not think of her own losses, long since buried and mourned.

He didn’t answer. But the trembling was response enough.

She drew back from him enough to look at his face, at the green eyes held averted as if he were afraid of meeting her gaze. He’d not said anything about what he’d been going through, and had just…suffered, alone, with her helpless to understand him and not knowing what to do. Part of her wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him for that, demand to know why he hadn’t just trusted her, but…

She exhaled, closed her eyes briefly, and tried to distance herself from her own hurt. Yes, she was upset that he’d not trusted her. But she knew what her son was like – if she confronted him about it, that would more or less guarantee he’d never come to her about his emotional issues ever again. He was already far too secretive and evasive, he didn’t need her exacerbating the problem.

…he’d confided in a stranger about something he’d not told her, his own mother, for god’s sake – but no, no, it wouldn’t do her any good to get angry or upset about it…

Instead of speaking any of the hundred hurt or indignant things that wanted to pass her lips, Mitsuko breathed, and then asked “What’s his name?”

Her son peered at her, in a sort of quick there-then-not flick of his eyes to hers. “…Huh?” He expressed, apparently stupefied by the circumstances or the question or both.

“Your friend.” She clarified. “That you lost. Who is…a cat now, apparently. What is his name?”

“Oh.” Hikaru blinked, looking vulnerable and almost shy. “Um.” He cleared his throat, with a sort of daunted expression that implied he wasn’t quite keeping up with the conversational turns, and would need to sit down and do a lot of processing later. “…Sai.” he said, in the end, and – that wasn’t the name of any of the friends she’d met, was it? So why did it sound so familiar? “He’s called Sai.”

“…Sai.” Mitsuko repeated, as if tasting the name, and wondered where she’d heard it. “No family name?” Did the reincarnated cat have a bereaved family out there? Should she be trying to convey him to them? Although…if the cat had been ‘talking’ with her son, and he wanted to return to his family, surely he would have been able to communicate that?

But if the cat had no bereaved family, then what did that mean? Had Hikaru befriended an orphaned child without telling her about it? Had he befriended some sort of street child, or young criminal? That would certainly account for her having never been told about him before…

“…Fujiwara.” Her son admitted, breaking through her runaway thoughts, and she blinked at him. Processed the name, and nodded. It was a standard enough family name, so why did Hikaru look almost guilty? Like he was getting away with something?

Perhaps the street child theory had some credence to it after all.

“How did you meet him?” She asked him, in the end, as politely and non-intrusively as possible. “I don’t believe I ever met him while he was…ah…alive, did I?”

Hikaru looked positively constipated at that. “Er….no, you didn’t. I, um….” He appeared to be gathering his wits, or his words, or something for several seconds. He squared his shoulders, not meeting her eyes, and eventually admitted “I met him a couple years ago. He’s…actually why I started playing Go.”

…Oh.

Mitsuko absorbed that, mentally downgrading the likelihood of her street child theory, and said “I see. Is he good at Go, then?”

“…Way better than I am.” Her son agreed, still looking shifty, like he was hiding something. And wasn’t that something, that her son the professional Go player willingly admitted to such a disparity in skill between him and his friend? This ‘Sai’ must truly be a talented player. In that case, it seemed unlikely he’d have been a street child, or some other variety of unfortunate or wastrel. She couldn’t imagine it being likely for someone in such diminished circumstances to have the opportunity to learn so much. “That’s actually how I figured out the cat was him. We…played a game, and I recognised his Go.”

She somehow hadn’t thought to wonder about that. “Oh my. I see.” She said in the end, uncertain how else to respond. She didn’t know the first thing about the game, but she supposed…modes of playing must be somewhat recognisable, then? Like an art style? “Honestly, Hikaru, I’m just barely managing to convince myself that this isn’t all a dream.” She admitted after a moment, recalling the intensely surreal experience of proving the cat’s sapience.

Hikaru actually choked out a laugh at that, and shook his head. “Me too.” He confided, and she met his eyes, and they shared a moment of utter bemusement at the circumstances of their lives.

The moment could only last so long, though. And then the problems of reality were pressing at her, and her mind went off again, wondering, wondering… “Where do you imagine this going from here, Hikaru?” She asked eventually, because the way this had started had been her son trying to negotiate for the entrance of this decidedly supernatural cat into their household.

He blinked at her, startled, and shifted uneasily. “Well…I was thinking Sai could just…move in with us?” he said, in the tones of a question. “I mean – he’s a cat, it’s not like he can be a Japanese citizen and get a job and his own house, and – yeah.”

Mitsuko eyed her son, and tentatively asked what she’d been dying to for half of the conversation. “And…he doesn’t have family he could go to? No other Fujiwara-san who are mourning him?”

Hikaru’s shoulders hunched. He carefully avoided her eyes. “…No.” he said, and despite the fact that he was obviously hiding something, that sounded truthful. “I’m pretty much the only person he has.”

If anything set off alarm bells in her mind, it was that. Though she wasn’t sure if the alarm was on behalf of her son or his obviously tragic friend. Or perhaps both.

But what to do about this? If the cat were genuinely a person, which evidence seemed to point to, consigning him to live the life of a regular cat – as property, with no dignity or autonomy – would be an appalling thing to do. He needed to live with someone who recognised his sapience and wouldn’t abuse their legal authority over him. And if the cat – Sai – had this evident personal connection to her son…then wouldn’t that make him the best choice to assume that responsibility?

But Hikaru was only a child. Responsibility for an entire not-quite-human being seemed a heavy thing to allow him to put on his shoulders. But…oh…wouldn’t that still be better than the depression he’d endured these last months, in the midst of his grief?

…Couldn’t they find someone else to host the cat? Someone close enough that Hikaru could visit with him, as he must have done when Sai was alive? The idea of what was essentially adopting another child into her household was not a very comfortable one. Even if the child was cat-shaped, and wouldn’t require schooling or clothing or whatever else. Would he complain about his bedtime? Would he be picky with his food? Would he track mud through the house? The more she thought about it, the more aghast she was at the idea.

“…It would be one thing if he was actually a cat,” Mitsuko said, eventually, deeply uncertain. “But this is a person, Hikaru. You’re asking me to take another person into the household. That’s…quite a thing to ask.”

“He won’t get in the way.” Hikaru assured her hopefully. “He won’t need much. You can just pretend he’s not there, he won’t mind.”

….she hoped that was just her son trying to convince her any way he could think of, rather than something indicative of how his friend had experienced life as a human. She tried desperately not to label this cat as an abused child, because that would make her feel protective and far too sympathetic, and then all her reservations would crumble in a second flat. “It doesn’t work that way, Hikaru.” She told her son, in the end. “If I accept him into the house, knowing that he is a person, I have a responsibility to treat him like a person. To care for him and his upkeep. His medical bills, such as they might be – we’d need to find a vet.” She shook her head, daunted at the thought. Animal medical costs would not be covered by her insurance, that was for certain.

“Then let me handle that stuff.” Hikaru returned, stubbornly, arms crossing. She eyed the set of his jaw and the line of his shoulders and acknowledged with an internal sigh that her son had well and truly dug his heels in. She lifted her hand to her head, rubbing briefly at her temples. She didn’t speak for a moment, which Hikaru took as a cue to keep talking. “If he needs a vet, I’ll find one, and pay for him. I’ll pay for his food and stuff too, if that’s a problem. I’m not really doing anything with my income, so I can.”

Mitsuko lifted her head, and regarded him silently. He was…extremely resolved about this. He’d sink his wages into caring for this cat who’d once been a human friend, and not even hesitate about it. How much of an impact must that death have had? Certainly, enough to amputate him from all joy and passion for months on end… “It’s very commendable of you to go that far, Hikaru.” She said, eventually. “But is it really your job to care for him?”

Hikaru looked at her with his brow furrowed. “Who else is supposed to do it?” He asked, as if he were genuinely curious.

No parents. No family. “Shimura-san?” She suggested, half-heartedly.

He made a face, but didn’t immediately dismiss it out of hand, as if he were actually trying to think about a good reason to refuse. That was another extremely potent sign of how much he cared about this. “He’d probably do it.” He admitted, reluctantly, after a while. “But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be happy about it, and Sai…” He trailed off.

Mitsuko’s lips pursed. No, she had to admit, it could do no child good to live in a home where he was unwanted. Even if that child did happen to be a cat now.

Hikaru had already shaken his head and kept talking. “Anyway, I kind of don’t see the point. I’ll just move out and take him with me eventually anyway. You could stop me from doing that now, you know, because you’re my parent and everything.” He sounded sullen at the admission. “But you couldn’t stop me once I turned eighteen.”

Despite herself, she was almost a little fascinated at this display from her son. Being obstinate was normal for him, true, but…the forethought? The steely resolve? He wasn’t afraid to tell her that, with or without her permission, he’d be taking his friend in eventually. “That’s true.” She said, mildly.

He eyed her suspiciously, as though not sure what to think of that agreement. “So, the only reason you can really have for not wanting to take him in is if you don’t want the…responsibility, or whatever, of having an extra guy around.” He told her, almost challengingly. “And if it’s just that, then you let me move out with him, and it’s fine.”

“What if I wanted my son to live with me while he’s still a child, but didn’t want to take in another child?” She wondered, almost curious now. Hikaru twitched at that, and stared at her with a sort of narrow-eyed confusion that didn’t seem to match what she’d said, but rapidly rallied himself.

“Then you’d suck, because you’d be making Sai live somewhere he doesn’t want to be for years for no reason.” He informed her.

Involuntarily, she smiled. It seemed to perplex her son greatly.

“What?” he demanded, wary.

“You’re being a very caring and protective friend to this Sai of yours, Hikaru.” She said, and he stared at her, nonplussed. “While it’s a little inconvenient for me, under the present circumstances, I can’t help but be proud of you for it.”

He reddened, shoulders hunching, and didn’t quite seem to know what to do with the praise. She patted him on one of those shoulders, and sighed.

Just to be sure, she took a few moments to stare off to the side, thinking it all over again. But, inconvenient as it might be, her conclusions didn’t change. She sighed again, and felt the weight of stress settling into her bones. There was nothing to be done.

Ultimately, the only choice which didn’t involve accepting the cat-friend into her house involved standing in her son’s way, and obstructing him for years, and in the process putting an innocent person into a potentially very unpleasant situation. Knowing her son, she didn’t expect him to meekly accept her ruling, either. Three years under those circumstances could breed an untold amount of resentment between them, and he certainly wouldn’t make it easy for her. As a mother, and as a person, she only really had the one option.

“I have little idea how much of an issue my allergies might be,” she started, and watched Hikaru’s head jerk up, a cautious light in his eyes. “And little idea how the needs of a supernatural cat might differ from a normal one. If there are any problems…or he proves very expensive to house…I might have to reassess. But for the time being-“

“You’re going to let me keep him?” Her son blurted, incredulous, looking utterly stunned about the whole thing. Almost insultingly so, actually. Of course she won’t listen, that expression seemed to say. Of course she won’t understand. It troubled her, more than a little, that Hikaru apparently thought so little of…her willingness to compromise? Her receptiveness? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like it.

Instead of saying any of that, Mitsuko sighed at him again. And said “We’ll certainly give it a try, Hikaru. I…don’t think I can be a parent to this friend of yours. But it would be very unkind of me to deny him shelter in his unusual situation.”

Hikaru had made a very weird face at the word ‘parent’, but didn’t address it. Instead, he held mute and stunned for several moments more, watching her face as though scanning for any sign of duplicity. When at last he was satisfied-

He seemed almost as surprised as she did when he darted forwards and hugged her, arms tight around her middle. He seemed almost embarrassed at it, but- “Thank you,” he mumbled, shaken and indistinct into her shirt, and she couldn’t regret the upheaval that her decision would surely bring.

Gently, she settled her hands around her son’s shoulders. I hope you’ll trust me a little more from now on, she thought to him, but did not say.

Barely a half hour later, the two of them went to collect the newest member of their household.

---

End chapter.

Notes: so I had the vast majority of this written and sitting around for the last x knows how long, and then a few weeks ago or something I wrote a random 1k in it and finished it, and then yesterday I realised that today was Hikaru’s birthday and it would be a good chance to post the bugger. Hope you enjoyed it.

Declined to read over and edit this today because I decided I wasn’t in the mood for it. Therefore, chapter is presented mostly unedited.

Author’s thoughts: though it's been a fair while since I was in Paper Cranes brain, there are two main things that stand out as bizarre to me when writing/thinking about this fic. The first: compared to Paper Cranes Hikaru, this Hikaru is astoundingly well-adjusted, and it's very weird. The second: Paper Cranes Hikaru would probably rather saw off his own foot with barbed wire than come even slightly clean to his mother about what's going on in his life, so it was very very weird for things to go this way here. I work off a baseline of Paper Cranes Hikaru when writing in this fandom, ok, so this is just plain mcfucking strange.

My current writing status: still writing in Dragon Prince, which is basically my permafandom for the foreseeable future, and am unlikely to stray hikagowards for aeons. Sorry y’all.

#hikaru no go #hikago #shindou hikaru #fujiwara no sai #nekomata #cat's cradle #i do enjoy crack treated (semi) seriously

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ineloqueent · 4 years

Text

Starstruck: Part 7

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 7 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, angst

Historical Inaccuracies: none that I can think of!

Word Count: 4.3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The sun made you wonder. Made you wonder why it was shining in the first place. How wretched of it to shine so prettily when you felt so miserable.

It was a misery too out of reach to be pacified, for it was not the obvious sort, the kind in which you cry and shudder and feel like you’re suffocating. This was the kind of miserable in which you mope, staring out the window in a daze, and the only thing you are aware of is the frown on your lips; you opt for bitterness with every word and thought. This is the miserable where you feel detached and lost, like you exist in one universe and your feelings in a neighbouring dimension.

Brian hadn’t spoken to you for over a week.

It had rained every day since.

When classes had resumed the following Monday, Brian didn’t smile at you when you chanced a ‘good morning’. He merely pressed his lips together and ducked beneath his curls. That was how you knew he was avoiding you.

On Tuesday, Brian failed Carmichael’s test. This you knew because he ripped it in half as he stormed out of the door, following the lecture And he was glowering. You’d never thought that timid Brian could even have the ability to glower.

On Wednesday afternoon, Deacy called you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Rog for tea today?”

You bit your lip slowly. “Just you and Rog?”

“Yep!” he said. “I’ve told you that Veronica’s just gone up to see her parents for a couple of days, and that I’m working so she thought it best for me to stay behind, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” you replied. “And Heather went with her.” Heather and Veronica had grown up in the same town, and so Heather, behind due to visit her own parents, had boarded the train with Ronnie.

“Oh, yes.” John paused, then asked hesitantly, “Are… are you okay with just me and Roger, for tea I mean?”

You breathed quietly in relief.

“Y/N? Who are you avoiding? You haven’t fallen out with Heather, have you?”

“Oh, no no,” you assured him.

“With Veronica, then? Surely not.”

“No, Deacy, she’s lovely.”

“She likes you too. You get along well. Maybe you should go shopping together or something sometime,” he babbled.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly.

“Well, you have our number. And you know you’re always welcome over.”

“Thanks, Deacy—”

But Deacy was still trying to work out who it was you were supposedly at odds with. “Not Roger!” he cried. “That’s why you’re not sure about lunch. You and Roger are arguing, aren’t you?”

“No, Roger and I are fine, John.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed. “I was worried for a moment. And I’ve already had to diffuse so many fights this week, in the band, y’know.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “you wouldn’t believe it. So many. It’s like cats and dogs at the moment. Not sure why. Yelling and throwing various instrumental gear. Drumsticks, microphone stands, cables… clumsily. Almost an amp, yesterday.”

You winced, “That sounds, uh, violent?”

“Actually,” he considered, meanwhile you pondered the reason he was jabbering nineteen a dozen, “they’ve all sort of been started by… Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, Y/N, dear,” he said in a pitiful tone. “You’re avoiding Brian.”

“Am not!” you exclaimed.

“Are you not?” He sounded genuinely surprised this time.

“If anything, he’s avoiding me,” you grumbled, because at this point, Brian deliberately turned his head away when you passed him in the mornings. He seemed so pained by your presence that wondered if perhaps there was something more to the death of his aunt, if you had unknowingly poured salt on a second wound.

“Well…” began Deacy, seemingly at a loss. “Well, why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. You’d not been sleeping well for the past few nights, awake and alone with your pestering thoughts. “I asked where he’d been, when he disappeared off to god knows where the other week.”

John’s puzzlement was apparent. “And?” he said.

“And nothing. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“That’s terribly odd, Y/N. I asked. We all asked. He said he’d been up to visit his parents when they lost power in a storm. Whole phone lines came crashing down, apparently. Too much of a mess to get any sort of communication through to anywhere, and he figured we wouldn’t worry badly.”

You shook your head, then remembered that you were on the phone. “That can’t be true, Deacy. And even if it were, we did worry, remember?”

“I suppose we did worry,” Deacy conceded. “But what do you mean, that can’t be true? Did he not tell you the same thing?”

The air gasped from your lungs.

He hadn’t told anyone.

Except you.

“No, Deacy,” you said. “He— he said… His aunt died.”

“What?”

“His aunt died.”

“Yes, I heard you, Y/N, but… He lied to us?”

“Or he didn’t tell you the whole truth,” you suggested. It was something you did often; you didn’t like to lie, but naturally, you didn’t want everyone to know everything.

“I suppose. That’s just so terribly unlike Brian,” John said concernedly. “He doesn’t like lying.”

“Um… who do you know that actively enjoys lying?”

“Oh, Freddie’s near-pathological,” Deacy said off-handedly. “But Brian’s got more of a moral compass than I have!”

“That’s slightly concerning…” you remarked. “So, how is Freddie?”

“I talked to him and he said he was well,” Deacy related, “but now I’m not so sure. He’s seemed a bit off lately. Something to do with Mary, I think.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think something’s wrong.”

Deacy sighed. “I’m beginning to think the only people who are okay are Veronica and myself.”

“Roger isn’t okay?”

“He’s usually the person Brian takes his temper out on.”

“Oh.”

“Tell you what,” said Deacy, “come to tea at mine at seven tonight and we’ll talk more then. I imagine you’ve got lectures to get to.”

“Just finished with the last one for today, but some studying wouldn’t hurt,” you replied. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay, see you at seven. Bye bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Deacy.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You spent the rest of the afternoon studying. Or rather, you tried to study. The formulas and theories and diagrams mostly swirled across your page today, as much a spiral galaxy as the Milky Way. You speculated your lack of sleep and your lack of water could be the cause. Or maybe your lack of interaction with other humans. No Heather, no Freddie, no Roger, barely John. And no Brian. It was a wonder you’d not yet become a total hermit.

At six thirty you threw on your scarf and coat and went out the door, a bottle of wine in one hand.

At six thirty-two, you had boarded the tube and remembered that the scarf wasn’t actually your own. It was the rainbow scarf. You nestled your face into the wool and fibres tickled the tip of your nose, subtle scents of coffee and lilies shrouding you in their homely warmth.

You missed the owner of that scarf.

At seven precisely, you rang the Deacon-Tetzlaff doorbell.

The door swung open and John Deacon beamed at you. “Ah, Y/N! You’ve made it to my little party.”

“Careful, Deacy,” you admonished, “you’re beginning to sound an awful lot like those old film villains.”

“I think I’ll need more evidence than that,” Deacy kissed your cheek in greeting. You returned the gesture and went on inside, offering the wine bottle which he accepted cheerily. He was just closing the door when there came a shout from the street.

“Hold the door, will you, Deacy?”

Roger had arrived, dressed extravagantly in a fur coat and thin, orange-tinted sunglasses.

“Bit over the top for tea at mine, Roggie?” Deacy laughed.

You nodded to Roger’s sunglasses. “Surely those aren’t necessary.”

“They just complete the look. And honestly, you two are daft. Coat’s for warmth. It’s bloody well snowing.”

“Snowing?” you and Deacy repeated, leaning out the door.

Roger was right; little flakes fluttered down from the dappled grey sky, dusting his hair, and now yours as well.

“And so it is,” John said with another laugh. You held out your hand and let the glittery while specks fall into your palm. Despite your love for warmth, you liked snow. It was like catching stardust.

“Brimi would love that analogy,” Roger kissed your cheek as well, and you realised that you’d spoken aloud. You swallowed, settling your features back into a mask of nonchalance.

“He wouldn’t love that fur coat, though,” you tapped Roger’s sleeve.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” grumbled Roger.

“At the moment, he doesn’t love much at all, really,” Deacy remarked as he shut the door when you were all inside.

“Yes,” Roger echoed the sentiment, “can we discuss that? He’s a right bore.”

“More than usual?” John joked.

“God, yes. Thinking of throwing my bloody hi-hat at him next time.”

“He didn’t get the message from the drumsticks?”

“Apparently not. Went past his house this afternoon. He’s still moping.”

You tried not to think about the fact that you were the reason why Brian was moping. Meanwhile, John and Roger bantered on as you hung up your coat and— and the scarf.

You missed the majority of the conversation, having drifted into the abyss of your own thoughts once more. It was becoming a bad habit.

“Champagne? Oh, perfect!” John was saying. You’d reached the kitchen. “And it’s Moët et Chandon, too. Fred would be proud of you.”

“Funny, it was actually his idea,” Roger mused, closing his sunglasses around the collar of his shirt.

Deacy’s eyes widened as he pulled a tray from the oven. “Freddie better not have suggested anything else.”

Roger raised his eyebrows. “What would he have suggested, John?”

You wondered whether Roger was alluding to Freddie’s dampened temperament of the past many days, his tearfulness on the floor of a public bathroom, his obvious discomfort when you spoke of Mary.

Deacy waved an oven mitt and squinted through the steam that rose from the loaf of bread he had pulled from the oven.

“Deacy?” you said when the latter did not answer.

“Food’s ready!” he said brightly, and you all gathered around the kitchen table, Roger’s question forgotten.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You’d eaten your fill of John’s homemade risotto and bread, which was quite a large portion. Deacy was an excellent cook, in contrast with the likes of Freddie and Roger, neither of whom knew how to boil an egg.

“That was lovely, Deacy,” you said, positioning your knife and fork at twenty-past four.

“Agreed,” Roger nodded from beside you. “I’d ask you to give me the recipe,” he addressed Deacy, “but you know I can’t cook.”

“Oh, yes, we all know, Roger,” John sniggered.

“Freddie can’t cook either,” Roger pointed out petulantly, as though this made up for his own downfalls as a twenty-four-year-old who had moved away from home without learning certain basics.

“So, why are we here, Deacs?” you said.

“Mm,” said Roger. “You never call meetings, John. That’s always Freddie. And if it was about Queen, you would have actually invited the other two idiots over. Not Cinderella, here,” he elbowed you in the ribs.

“Ow!” you yelped. “Better Cinderella than an idiot, though.”

Roger narrowed his eyes at you. “Then dress the part. Otherwise I’ll have to take back the title.”

“Dress… in cinders and dirt, like you have?”

“This is an expensive shirt!”

“Hey!” Deacy interjected, but you and Roger only paid attention after he stood and tapped his knife to his wine glass.

You looked at Roger and grinned. Roger waggled his eyebrows; he had the same idea. You took a breath—

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” you cried together.

Deacy rolled his eyes. “How I put up with any of you is a wonder. Might as well not tell you, now.” He made to sit down.

“Well, I wanna hear it,” Roger pouted.

“Yeah, go on Deacy,” you patted his side of the table.

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t. He glanced down at the tablecloth instead, adjusted the cutlery on his plate with two fingers, then inhaled slowly.

“You’re not dying, are you?” said Roger. You elbowed him to shut him up.

“Right then,” Deacy straightened up. “Y/N, Roger,” he toasted you each with his glass and you smiled back bemusedly. He paused for dramatic effect. Then, “Ronnie’s pregnant!”

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh, Deacy, you sly bastard,” Roger stood and clapped his friend on the back.

Deacy rolled his eyes again, but he was still beaming.

“John, that’s wonderful!” you said. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Deacy replied, pleased as punch. “Freddie and Brian found out by accident, and they were both busy tonight anyway, and I wanted to tell you before Veronica came back because she was going up to tell her parents,” he gushed, “and by then Freddie wouldn’t have been able to keep the surprise a surprise anymore.” Deacy practically shone, he was truly so happy. You couldn’t imagine more of a family man than John Deacon would be. He doted on Veronica and would dote upon his children even more.

Roger suddenly laughed, and you and Deacy looked at him. “Now I get it,” he said.

“Get what, Rog?”

“The champagne.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Thursday, you woke up with a violent headache. You had definitely overdone the champagne last night.

You rolled over to turn off your alarm clock, but instead rolled over the edge of a sofa.

And kicked Roger Taylor in the face.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Roger groaned, pulling his fur coat up over his face. He had used it as a blanket for the night, rejecting Deacy’s offer of actual bedding. “If you wanted to sleep on the floor, you could just have said so, not kicked me awake to take my spot.”

“I was perfectly fine with the sofa, thanks,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples.

Roger sat up blearily. “God, what a headache,” he complained.

You nodded in agreement, your eyes screwed shut.

“Good morning!” John appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“Shhhhh,” Roger hummed.

“Not my fault you never learnt to be responsible,” Deacy shrugged. “Can I interest anyone in coffee?”

“May I order some silence?” you asked. “And a black coffee, please.”

“On my way,” Deacy left for the kitchen.

“Yes please, I’ll have a cup,” Roger called hoarsely after Deacy. “With one and three-sevenths sugars.”

“One black, one with one sugar?” John called back.

“One and three-sevenths sugars, please.”

“Three sugars, Rog?”

“No, one and three-sevenths.”

“Seven sugars?!”

“DEACY. One and three-sevenths!”

Laughter trickled through the kitchen door. “I’m just winding you up, Roger,” Deacy returned to the living room.

Roger sighed. “Well, thank god. I was beginning to rethink our friendship. You should know how I take my coffee.”

“We’re not married, Rog. And if you really felt so fondly about me, you should have told me so before I took my girlfriend to bed sometime last year.”

“Which was far too long ago.” Roger took his mug of coffee when Deacy offered it to him. “You take a long time to fall in love with, Deacs. Couldn’t possibly have beaten Ronnie to that chase.”

“Speaking of rethinking our friendship…” John muttered.

After finishing your coffee, you swore at the time the clock on Deacy’s mantlepiece displayed, made your apologies, and rushed off to your morning lecture.

And still Brian would not even look at you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

At nine o’clock that night, you sat down in your armchair by the fireplace and made two phone calls.

First, you called your mum.

Then you called Brian, who had neglected to turn up for the evening’s derivatives-and-guitar session.

Three guesses as to who took your call and who did not.

You went to bed soon after that, but sleep would not draw you away until two hours past midnight.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

On Friday evening, two of your housemates decided to get shit-faced. As Heather and Roger had taken up residency in your room, you decided to join in the getting-shit-faced.

Joan and Paulie were waiting for you in the kitchen and cheered when you entered.

“Our favourite Y/N!” Paulie hugged you, and Joan grinned from where she sat atop the kitchen counter, already holding a poured drink.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked. But this was apparently the wrong question, because Paulie’s bright eyes turned suddenly tearful.

Joan hopped down from the counter and wrapped an arm around Paulie’s shoulder.

“Just some hypocrite called Paulie a slag,” Joan sipped her drink. “Now we’re celebrating the fact that little Pauline here packed her first punch, eh, sweetheart?”

Paulie blushed crimson, and it was clear that she was not on her first drink either.

She turned to you, “What’ve you come to celebrate, Y/N?”

You laughed bitterly. “Perhaps my wasted heart.”

“It’ll be a large drink, then?”

You nodded, and Paulie frowned sympathetically. Joan stuck you a glass, filling it to the brim with alcohol.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It was midnight, but tonight, there was no magic in the hour.

You sat in the window seat and leaned your head against the wood of the window frame.

The heating was broken and it was raining ice outdoors. Sleet. Yes, that was what it was called. Your muddled brain struggled to keep up with your racing heart.

You’d left Joan and Paulie in the kitchen, because the thing about Joan and Paulie was that they were mad for each other, though they appeared to be the only two people in the world who were blind to the phenomenon. Tonight, however, they’d made some discoveries regarding that area of their lives. They’d stopped drinking early on and had begun snogging instead, so you’d taken a bottle of mulled wine with you to the window seat and now sat drinking alone in the darkness.

Or perhaps the darkness was what you were drinking, and what was drinking you.

From the cinema next door to the house, you could vaguely hear laughter, and the smell of popcorn lightly permeated the air that drifted in through your open window. It was no longer raining, and the sky with its spatter of stars was once more dimly visible above the silhouettes of London in the nighttime. The mulled wine was made of elderflower and blackberries, and it had heated your cheeks and filled your head with poetry and your eyes with a mist.

Swirling the wine in your glass, you imagined this was what it would be like to live on the cusp between tragedy and comedy in a Shakespearian work.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” slipped the words of Hamlet from your lips, “doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

You sighed and wished for the night to grow day as you stared out the window, searching for planets and solar systems you knew very well could not be found by the naked eye.

The rainbow scarf warmed your skin.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Saturday, as went without saying, was characterised by a fierce headache. Again.

And with Sunday came the Sunday Blues.

Well, really, you’d had the All-Week Blues, but Sunday did not care about this; you could now add the coming week of studying and assessments to your list of worries.

You listened to Freddie’s records and mindlessly memorised every word, every line. The music was your anchor, as it had always been. But it was now more so than ever.

You hated feeling worthless, but there was nothing you could do to not feel so.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy and Brian, they had each other. They wouldn’t have missed you, you told yourself, and it was only fuel to fire that Freddie did not trust you enough to tell you what it was that was going on with him. Then there was Heather, and Heather had Roger. And then Joan— Joan had Paulie. And Kate’s friends were Amélie and Jenny. No one was yours alone.

No one was yours at all.

And the fact that Brian May so actively avoided you just proved it all— who needs you?

Who needs you, it was in his lowered eyes.

Who needs you, it was in his silence.

Who needs you, it was in your head.

It was all only in your head. But sometimes, it was difficult to discern the world from your head.

So you picked up your guitar to prove your head, the world, wrong.

The strings stung your skin, and the memory of gentle smiles ghosted along your pulse where fingers had once applied their tender touch.

Your misery rose a wave and crashed as anger.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Two more weeks cycled past on bell-less bicycles; they passed utterly without consequence.

February had yielded March, and snow had melted to an incessant rain. But the rain fostered new leaves and flowers, and turned London to all the colours of the rainbow in the glory of Spring.

It would have been pleasant, to leave classes and hurry through warm, sprinkling rain and spots of sunshine, for but the claustrophobia that the gaze of a tall and blushing young man provided you with, in every waking hour of your life, whether in person or by way of imagination.

You waited for everyone else to enter the lecture hall, hanging back so that you would be the last.

When the final dawdler had passed into the hall, you approached Brian, who, of course, was holding the door.

“Bri,” you began gently, willing him to look at you. He didn’t. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.” He radiated hostility, but you felt uplifted by the fact that he’d acknowledged you at all.

“I know. But I meant it. And I mean it.”

His eyes flicked over you. “We’re going to be late.”

He let go of the door.

You grasped the handle before the frame could smack you in the face. The edges of your patience were tampered with by his gaze; they had now become short and sharp.

If he was going to behave so pettily, then you would stoop to his level.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It began as stealing Carmichael’s questions before Brian could answer them.

Then it was politely saying ‘good morning’ to everyone you encountered, except Brian.

Then you temporarily overcame your hatred for mornings in order to arrive at the lectures early, before Brian. You held the door for everyone. Until he arrived. Then you let go and went inside.

On the third morning that this occurred, Brian glared at you and you sneered back.

How quickly you had gone from friends to… to rivals was slightly disconcerting.

Freddie seemed to think so too. He invited you to rehearsal one evening, and though you clenched your jaw at having to be in the same room as Brian Harold “Petty” May, Freddie begged and pleaded and wore you down.

But when you arrived at one of Imperial College’s unused lecture halls that evening, Brian was the first person you saw, and at the sour twist of his lips, you huffed and stormed back out the door.

Freddie and John were calling after you, and you vaguely heard Roger ask Brian what the hell was wrong with him. Yet, you kept walking.

And then you ran.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

I’d had it with Brian. I really had.

So caught up in that bloody head of his, and for what? What had Y/N even said? What could have been so bad? She, like the rest of us, had naturally been worried by Brian’s disappearance, and he owed it to us, to her, to let us know that he had been at least physically all right.

I’d gotten it out of Deacs that Brian had lied to us about where he was the other week, and I’d been furious— how could he lie to us? Brian never lied.

I’d been good and well ready to knock him about a bit, that was what I’d been, and I had threatened to do just so, before Freddie materialised, as he often did, and pushed me back onto the drum stool before I could go anywhere. He demanded to know why I was so pissed off, and John explained.

Freddie frowned. “Yes, that is rather unlike him. And he’s utterly miffed, constantly. Looks about as cross as a cat caught in a rainstorm. Has done for fucking weeks.”

“Yes…” John folded his arms over his bass. “It’s got to stop. We’re not getting anything done.”

“We need to start working on the next album, and with him in this state, he won’t write anything of use,” said Freddie in agreement. “His muse is sadness, not anger.”

“That makes one of us,” I grumbled. “Gimme his guitar and I’ll write you a song, right here and now.”

“I would, darling,” Freddie sighed, “except that you’d probably destroy it, and you know he never lets it out of his sight anyway.”

“Hmph.”

Deacy ran a hand through his hair. “We have to intervene.”

“Mm,” said Freddie. “There’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.”

“Any ideas?” Deacy asked. “Freddie?”

“Not a thing, dearie. Got enough troubles of my own, right now.”

“Rog?”

I was about to shake my head, no, when I remembered a trick I’d pulled on two of my mates back in school, years ago.

I smiled. “Oh yes. I’ve got a plan.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: I definitely wrote Joan and Paulie to resemble John Lennon and Paul McCartney, oops :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @hgmercury39 @stardust-killer-queen @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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coredrill · 3 years

Text

alright here are my rwby8 thoughts now that i’ve had a few days to sit on ‘em!! spoilers for the entire volume under the cut

so if anyone happens to open this and is like “wow this is more words than i’ve seen you use ever” lol yup! it’s probably the most words i’ve written since high school lmao. feel free to read through if ya really want but this is mostly just my own way of organizing my thoughts for this kind of stuff rather than making a million different posts on random parts of it. this way if i want to look back in the future and say “haha wow can’t believe i thought THAT” it’s all in one easy location! i don’t expect anyone else to be reading all this shite lol

thoughts on the volume as a whole:

honestly i loved it!! there’s very little that i would’ve changed and most of that is nit-picking stuff. i’m very impressed that this volume was made in quarantine lmao. the animation in and of itself was STUNNING (shout out to the finale’s water animation...the aura break particle effects...the cinnamon topography of the amity scenes...all of the facial & body expressions...the whale disintegrating...)

i’d honestly say that it’s probably my second favorite volume?? volume 4 is still my beloved but v8 was so good. i’ll probably need to watch it through a few more times but god. i LOVED IT.

honorable mention cause idk where else to put it: some of the scores were breathtaking!!! i tend not to notice background music on my first watch unless it really sticks out to me and there were quite a few scenes where that happened in a good way this volume. the ones where cinder breaks into the atlas control room and the one at the end when atlas is flooding are probably my favs!!! also there was this one part where it was just screeching over ironwood and it worked really really well.

okay so now for individual characters. let’s start with ruby:

i would like to fund her therapy

very surprised that she didn’t “break” this volume! i was sort of expecting it to happen--between ironwood, the amity plan only kind of working, the hound, the virus, and the fact that she was separated from her usual support system (qrow, yang, and jaune), i was definitely expecting her to. i’m glad she didn’t though cause it’s gonna be so much harder when she actually does (probably when she finds out that cinder has the relics and penny’s dead...)

massive shout out to lindsay jones for managing to make squeaky-voiced ruby still sound like ruby even while going through a whole host of emotions we’ve never seen ruby go through before!

god. that scene where crescent rose fell into the drink and ruby scrambled after it. my heart dropped lmao.

also. this is likely because i’ve got an engineering degree (which came with a free stick up my butt when it comes to technology in media) but the line where they say “mass no longer matters” wrt her semblance??? WHAT??? bro splitting mass up into smaller chunks doesn’t change the actual mass of the material itself what is going on here 😭😭😭 (this isn’t a real criticism of any kind i just yelled WHAT after they said that line lmao)

weiss:

i have one single weiss criticism and its that, in the scene where she’s leaving whitley to go fight the hound, she says “we still need to work on your attitude” and for whatever reason, the voice track doesn’t sound like it was quite mixed right? like it sounds like she’s just standing there rolling her eyes but my girl is BOOKING it out of the room lmao

other than that: weiss you are PERFECT. she really spent this entire volume saving and taking care of the people she loves!!! and i loved every second of it!!!

i would’ve liked to see more of her and klein/whitley/willow. i think there’s a lot of great stuff in that dynamic (not me crying when klein showed up at the manor...) and especially between weiss and her mother. i hope we get one big schneeuinon in vacuo once they + winter are all in the same location (but that’s gonna be a while i think lmao)

it’s been said a million times before but weiss?? shaking and crying but using gambol shroud anyway?? even though she thinks her teammates are all dead?? giving ruby the staff and pushing her out of the line of fire and pulling blake back to safety??? fighting cinder, a fucking wholeass maiden, with no aura because she needs to protect penny?? only unable to get up and keep fighting after she watches gambol shroud (the last physical piece she has of her teammates) go over the edge??? bro. BRO. i’m legit tearing up just TYPING THAT. god she’s gonna find her team at that island resort and never let them go. gonna be like v4 jaune all over again huh??

blake/yang:

not as much here since they didn’t get a whole lot of focus this volume, but i enjoyed all their scenes! yang just fuckin going at salem was 1000/10.

i will say...i think blake’s gonna kiss yang when they meet up in tropical paradise. and good for her!! (especially if this volume’s been planned since the beginning, it makes sense that this would be the writers’ idea for where they wanted their first kiss to be)

jaune:

going from ren saying “he has no fear. he believes that we can do this” about jaune to, five chapters later, forcing jaune to deliver a killing blow to penny was just CRUEL

the fucking dissonance of jaune haha!-awkward-renora-moment-exit vomit-boy-through-the-portals hit-in-the-head-with-a-rock arc being the one that penny asks..............bro. don’t hmu.

it’s going to be such a long time until we see him smile again.

also. the moment when crocea mors snaps in half...again, my stomach dropped.

but it’s okay! he’ll be fine without a weapon! he’s the ~strategist~! *breaks the fuck down*

it hurts so much too to think about, like oscar mentioned.....even if/when he does reunite with ren and nora, he’s not gonna be the same person he was when they last saw him. he’s not gonna be their goofy, wholesome, soft, snarky, healer team leader anymore. he just got his shit sorted out, he just stopped being actively suicidal, and tbh i think this might affect him worse than what happened with pyrrha. especially since they were compounding in his brain--what he did gave penny more of a choice than pyrrha ever got, but GEEZ.

pain. just. pain.

nora:

NORA MY BELOVED

okay. OKAY. so like she was passed out for half the volume but what we did get of her was fucking amazing

nora’s mom i am going to find you and have some words. i’ve mentioned this before but this woman has the same energy as the mom from grave of the fireflies who was like “i know we’re actively being bombed right now but i’m going to abandon my children and get myself to safety.” SQUARE UP BITCH. i hope we never see nora’s mom in the show because i will become filled with rage

but nora herself??? flawless. perfection.

i really did love her journey this volume. realizing that she wants to become her own person apart from ren, and then telling him that when he says that he loves her?? nora sweetie that was heartbreaking but i am SO SO PROUD OF YOU.

nora putting herself first for once and being told that people love her WE FREAKING LOVE TO SEE IT

except NOW that’s all gonna go haywire 😭😭😭

like...the moment in the finale where you can see she’s hesitant to leave jaune to to go vacuo but she goes anyway because he’s her leader and he doesn’t like splitting up either and she loves him and she trusts him only for her to get STUCK ON THE OTHER SIDE BANGING ON THE PORTAL. that scene fucking BROKE me. you just KNOW she’s gonna be hating herself for going through and leaving jaune (even though nobody knew it was one way!!!) and when the portal dissolves and he doesn’t come through........

she really thinks that she’s lost TWO teammates now. that’s TWO teammates that she wasn’t able to save. she saved ren from the nuckelavee but pyrrha’s dead and as far as she knows jaune’s dead too

and jaune’s her fucking family!!!!!!!

and like. when we see her on the vacuo side of the portal, we see that she’s got the happy huntresses behind her. she did her job and she gathered them but now she can’t get back through and AHHHHHH. FUCK. when she drops to her knees because she realizes.........that fucking killed me. i’m tearing up now just typing this sdmndbm

and like. the worst part is that she just realized that she wants some time away from ren. but everyone else is gone and just like when they were kids he’s all she’s got and they are gonna lean on each other harder than ever because this time they both lost EVERYTHING. not just jaune, but ruby, who was their teammate for a while too. weiss, who took such great care of nora while she was injured. penny, who nora helped with blake’s advice. yang, who ren had time to bond with this volume. FUCK

it’s gonna hurt so bad to watch but i cannot WAIT to see what nora does next and how she moves forward. god. this is gonna kill her. it’s killing ME and i’m just a viewer lmao

ren:

remember that one week where neath went on twitter and was like “i love renora and i’m gonna make that everyone else’s problem”??? yeah. that was a good week lmao

speaking of neath. MASSIVE PROPS TO HIM FOR HIS WORK. he managed to give ren every single emotion in the book this volume and none of it sounded ooc despite ren being such a repressed character before. he did incredible!!!!

I LOVED REN SO MUCH THIS VOLUME GOD. i mean i love him in every volume BUT HE HAD SO MANY GOOD MOMENTS AND SUCH A GOOD ARC

i’ve already talked about it at length but the scene where his semblance evolves is one of my favorites in the whole show. he’s so fucking full of love that it’s literally tearing him apart and when he finally accepts that fact his ENTIRE SOUL levels up!!! he looks at himself and there are pink petals falling off of him because he can’t contain the love in his body anymore!!! it’s there in a literal, physical manifestation and it’s so. fucking. GOOD. FUCK.

and also my obligatory remark about how he was thinking about oscar and pyrrha and his parents in that moment. people he loved platonically and familially. rwby goes so fucking hard for platonic love and i can’t ever thank them enough. to see ren have this realization because he was thinking about oscar.....god i’m gonna cry again LMAO

and then after that the way that he just. looks at jaune in every scene with the biggest fucking heart eyes. i’m gonna fucking combust he loves his leader SO MUCH. (which. as i mentioned in the nora section. pain now)

and the nora stuff........JUST AS GOOD

another thing i’ve talked about a lot but to see him apologize, be emotionally open, listen to what nora’s saying and what nora needs, TELL HER THAT HE LOVES HER FIRST, not holding a single thing against her, agreeing to wait for her to be ready.........literal perfection holy shit

romance is normally not one of my favorite aspects of any media but i will make an exception for whatever the fuck ren and nora got going on

basically as a ren stan / jnpr stan i was thriving this volume and then that finale hit me and i know i will be in pain until they reunite again

i have a handful of jnr gifs that i was planning to make during the hiatus but now they’re all PAIN aksjhdasjdh

oscar:

deeply worried about the quickly approaching merge. i’m really hoping that oscar and oz stay separate but i also love seeing all the animation/voice acting nuances that indicate that they’re getting closer to the merge.......AH

this volume really hammered home just how strong this kid is. he stands up to SALEM and does the right thing even despite the torture cause he’s so BRAVE and STRONG and when he trusted hazel with the password DESPITE IT ALL. ugh. so good.

i love oscar so much and i’ve loved seeing him grow!!!

penny:

serious stuff coming in the next bullet point but. GOD. her model’s head is so big and i don’t know WHY but this stuck out to me every time she was standing next to someone else. it might be because of the volume of her hair (but yang’s hair also has a lot of volume, and her head is normal sized)??? idk it just threw me off a lot. every time she was like, talking to ruby or something, all i could think about was how her head was bigger than ruby’s ENTIRE TORSO lmao. (also why didn’t they give her human body shoes skdjhaksjh)

that said.........oh, penny 😭😭😭😭😭

i’m surprised that she died but only because i thought her plot armor was pretty thick LMAO. narratively it makes a lot of sense and i’m glad her story ended the way it did.

i’ve seen a lot of people interpreting her actions in the finale as “choosing to die,” but i don’t think that’s the case?? penny’s friends all saved her every single time that she presented her own death as an option. that’s what makes this so tragic, is that they successfully saved her every time she offered that, and that in the end, she still died. she was gonna die anyway. she was impaled by cinder--jaune didn’t have enough time to heal her before cinder defeated weiss (who had no aura!!) and turned on them again. penny made her own choices when 1. she asked to die at the hands of a friend, rather than by cinder’s soul-sucking grimm arm and whatever horrible fate that includes and 2. to choose her successor. and i don’t blame her for making either of those choices! she wanted to die with as much dignity as peace as she could and to choose whose life she would be intertwined with. and while it’s very sad, i’m glad that penny finally got some sense of control over herself and her legacy.

and like...she was so happy when she met up with winter!! she was so happy to have full autonomy for once!!! that scene was both heartwarming and heartbreaking!!!

i also think that penny’s death reinforces the idea that remnant is gonna be very different by the time rwbyjnorqe is done with it. now not one but two kindhearted girls have gotten killed because they got tangled up in the maiden powers—which were originally meant to be a gift!! and i’m very interested to see what the resolution is gonna be!! (i know it’s gonna be in like. volume 52 or something alsjfndnx but still!!)

also, if nothing else, i am very glad that whole “pietro sacrifices the last of his aura to revive her” theory is gone. i hate that theory lmao

i will say, while i enjoyed penny’s role this volume, i do think that maybe some of her screentime could’ve gone elsewhere. i get that there needed to be a lot of focus on her, so that we would be attached when she died, but i think it would’ve been beneficial to spread that screentime elsewhere just a bit, especially since she wasn’t really developing at all. hitting the same point with her like seven times did start to feel a bit repetitive lol. my vote would be for extra time with the schnees, or the jn(o)r reunion at schnee manor, or maybe a scene checking in with pietro and maria!!

emerald:

EMERALD MY BELOVED

YOU DEFECTED!!!! GOOD FOR YOU GIRL!!!!

i hope we get a LOT more time with her in the future. she’s still gotta work out the cinder thing of course but i also think it’s gonna be super interesting to see how she acts now that she (alongside oscar, ren, nora, the hh, and winter) is one of the closest things their group has to a “leader”

also like........good for her for being one of the LEAST traumatized people this volume despite being THREATENED BY SALEM

somebody give emerald a nice long hug

i love her

that is all

winter:

WINTER OH MY GOD

seeing her struggle with her emotions all volume.....only to finally accept them and save marrow’s life.....and because of that choice she realizes how long overdue it was and goes all in on helping the heroes.....and is eventually chosen to become the next winter maiden by the girl who challenged her to accept her emotions in the first place......😭😭😭 chef’s kiss

“you chose nothing. this was a gift.” *demolishes ironwood but doesn’t stick around cause he’s not worth it* *fights cinder* POETIC CINEMA!!!!!

also i cannot wait to see her schneeunion with willow, whitley, and klein.......even if she does have to be the one to tell them what happened to weiss 😭

cinder:

CINDER I HATE YOU BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE SUCH A GOOD VILLAIN

her backstory was pretty self explanatory but i think this was a good time to spell it out especially while we were in atlas. the culmination of that, her consistent failures to achieve her goals after v3, and watts dragging her really all just came together to make her so much more intimidating and efficient and i loved watching it.

like i know there’s people who don’t like her as a character but she’s always so fun to watch and her va does AMAZING and she’s just. so INTERESTING

also. i cannot wait for her to find out that ruby and neo are both alive (and especially when salem finds out they’re both alive LMAO)

also also her line to ruby about never being born feels.......awfully specific??? i wonder if it’s a hint at some other part of salem/cinder/ruby/summer lore (like her “and i refuse to starve” line from last volume)

also also also CINDER.......lying to salem is gonna backfire on you at one point or another.......HM

salem:

gosh i love salem. she’s such a good villain and i loved all her scenes (especially the fight scene...SO COOL).

very interested in whatever she does next!! since the only remaining lackey she has is cinder (who is now starting to try to manipulate her) and tyrian and mercury, who are in vacuo, i’m curious about her next steps. is she gonna keep recruiting, now that people know who she is?? is she gonna come to vacuo herself?? she could definitely do a WHOLE LOT OF DAMAGE with the refugee situation there, so i’m super excited to see how her next moves play out!!

hazel/tyrian/watts/merc/neo:

rip hazel. glad we were able to get an INSANE fight scene out of him before his death BUT ALSO WHAT’S WITH YOU BEATING THE SNOT OUT OF A 14 YEAR OLD HUH

listen. listen. i know merc-rescues-oscar was never a possibility BUT i still love that idea. it lives in my mind rent free!!!

i feel like mercury’s gonna be so insane after the worst road trip ever in a confined space with tyrian that he’s gonna be immediately redeemed by team sssnn and the power of himbofication upon landing in vacuo LMAO

real talk though, i am VERY interested in what happens when mercury sees emerald again and learns she defected. like, this is his friend, who he’s tried to keep safe the only way he knows how (by keeping his head down and not angering their abuser) and she got out but he didn’t. GOD. AND in the first fight she was in after defecting, she used the move that she learned by watching him!!!! that’s gonna be SO GOOD and i can’t wait to see it!!!

neo is a wildcard and i love watching her fight and i think it’s SO INTERESTING that she went over the side with rwby and jaune and i CAN’T WAIT to see what she does next.

WATTS MY DUDE. what a GOOD volume for him. like the stuff where he yells at cinder was SO COOL to see and it was so funny that he thought that wasn’t gonna come back to bite him LMAO. i think this was super fitting for him and while i like him as a villain, i think this was a good place for his story to end. i had a lot of fun watching his scenes this volume.

qrow/robyn:

I LOVE THEIR SIBLING ENERGY. robyn talking qrow down and them bonding over their semblances together was so great.

i also loved qrow’s semblance...evolving?? changing?? idk what exactly happened yet, but i know that if i too hung out with robyn hill for 48 hours straight my outlook on life would improve dramatically.

i do hope robyn makes it to vacuo soon because she will be invaluable at handling the refugee crisis there.

on the other hand, if qrow gets to vacuo and finds out that ruby and yang (and three more of his adopted kids) never made it........PAIN. oh my god it’s gonna be like summer all over again 😭😭

aceops:

did not expect to get teary-eyed when vine died. and yet i did. that “themes of death” cw on the finale was CERTAINLY SOMETHING HUH

hell yeah marrow!!! what a good boi!!! i loved his defection ofc and him going off on ironwood...chefs kiss

i hope marrow sticks with the main cast. he’s my favorite and he deserves to see his friends again!!!

as for elm and harriet, i’m not sure?? i think harriet still has a lot of work to do before she’s redeemed in my eyes. maybe they can be dropped off at beacon to help glynda fight the grimm/rebuild so that they can be back for the show’s ending but the cast is somewhat trimmed for vacuo lmao

also. i know they’re not aceops. but WHERE ARE FLYNT AND NEON ARE THE MEME KIDS OKAY

happy huntresses:

may marigold is literally perfect in every way

loved them! would’ve loved to see more of them lmao. maybe even just cutting back to them in the crater reacting to some of the stuff going on.

i very much hope we get to see them in the future! i know the vacuans aren’t gonna be happy with the atlas/mantle people showing up unannounced but i feel like if there’s anyone who’s gonna be able to earn their respect, it’s the organized-and-saved-the-lives-of-those-downtrodden-by-atlas-happy-huntresses.

maria & pietro:

okay. SO. my thoughts are either that they made it to vacuo (penny did see where amity would touch down, so it’s possible that a portal was placed in that location and they made it through) or qrow picks them up.

either way, i hope we get to see them again. I LOVE THESE TWO GEEZERS!!!

oh, pietro......... *cries*

ironwood:

not much to say here except that i loved it. i loved how he got more and more paranoid, i loved that he vaporized jacques schnee, i loved that he only went cartoon-villain at the last moment, i loved that he died unceremoniously surrounded by the thing he thought would save them all. i love that cinder got in one final chess reference beforehand. 10/10

the hound:

it feels like a lifetime ago that this guy died but holy shit. holy SHIT.

i want whitley to summon the hound!! it was an enemy that pushed him to grow, i think it would be neat!!

ambrosius:

LOVED THIS DUDE. i LOVE how his powers work!!! like, even though it’s magic, it’s so realistic because that’s how creation works!!! you gotta design the EXACT thing you want or else its gonna be fucked up!!!

like. okay. so (back on my engineering bs again lmao) for example. let’s say i’m writing a program where the user enters a number from 1-10 and it’s displayed on the computer screen. so i write whatever code i need that says “take user input and put on screen.” that’s what ambrosius did when he created the portals and the pathways between them!

and then let’s say i also put a warning to the user that says “only enter numbers from 1-10.” that would be ambrosius saying “do not fall.”

but...the user can still enter whatever they want. what happens if they put in the number 100? what happens if they type a letter? this program only puts numbers from 1-10 on screen, so who knows what’s gonna happen. and that’s what happens when people fall off the railings!!!

“oh, but you told them what numbers to enter” yeah but humans are unpredictable and ya gotta account for the human element when doing stuff like this!! team rwby didn’t account for people falling off--because why would people fall off if they were told not to? but the human element messed that up anyway!!!

anyways i’m a fucking nerd apparently but it was super cool to see that reflected in ambrosius!!! i’m a big fan!!!

like whenever people call him tricky or sneaky...no!!! he was just doing exactly what he was told to do!!!! so good!!!

also i wanna see him hang out with his sister jinn lmao

alright and here’s my thoughts/predictions for v9:

first off i just wanna say that this entire section (this entire post really, but especically this section) is just me spitballing lmao. we literally have ZERO clue what’s happening next or where they are, i’m just throwing out some stuff that’s crossed my mind! whatever crwby gives us is gonna be infinitely better than whatever i come up with lmao

that said, i have two ideas for what could be happening in madagascar.

option one is the one i’ve seen other people toss around, which is the whole wonderland-land-of-the-dead thing. i’m kinda torn on this because i think it could be good for penny’s storyline, but not really anyone else’s?? sure, yang and ruby could see summer, but weiss would see...jacques?? and blake would see...adam?? i’m not sure what weiss and blake would have to say to them/learn from them the same way ruby and yang would.

on that same idea, jaune could definitely see pyrrha, but again, i’m wondering what purpose that would serve? obviously jaune’s actions in the finale were guided by pyrrha (or specifically her mom, and realizing that pyrrha never had a choice either), but it’s clear that that’s the case for all of team jnpr, and it will be probably forever. their scene together at pyrrha’s memorial felt like they were closing the door--specifically--on their grief. on the other hand, those actions are super relevant right now and i will never turn down the chance to see pyrrha!!! it’s just free waterworks babey!!!

neo also has roman, but i can’t really see roman admitting to anyone that he got swallowed by a grimm 😭😭 just seems too embarrassing for him LMAO

for penny, i think this could work nicely. all she ever wanted was to not have her life controlled by others--kind of like alice in wonderland (the disney movie version because i am fairy tale illiterate lmao). if penny gets to exist after death in a land where she gets to choose everything for herself i think she would be very happy!

again, if this ends up being the case, crwby could 100% make it work! (and i am 0% opposed to maya model pyrrha.) i just personally am not as sold on this being the case as some others are.

option two imo is vacuo but in the past. which i know seems kind of weird BUT i have reasons!

so we know a few things about vacuo. one, it used to be an oasis and was considered a paradise until atlas and mistral destroyed it for the dust. two, it has giant motherfucking crabs that people like to eat. yes this is all i have to go off of BUT both of those things are in the end credits scene we got!

also, them landing in past-vacuo makes sense on ambrosius’ level. their “one way ticket” probably didn’t include all four dimensions of coordinates--so i could see them landing in the same x, y, and z as the official doorway, but at a different time. the creation would still do exactly what it was asked to do--drop them in vacuo.

there’s also a couple other things. “vacuo” means “in a vacuum” which i’ve heard v9 is supposed to be. also in before the dawn, sun saw some bigass magic tree that awakened his semblance which this one definitely could qualify as

(okay. side note. when i first saw the tree i thought of the glowy tree from james cameron blue people avatar. IDK WHY, i haven’t seen that movie in years??? i also had to google it to make sure i wasn’t making it up and apparently it’s called the “tree of souls.” which would also make sense if it helped sun awakened his semblance. i don’t think rwby based something off of blue people avatar, it’s probably more likely that blue people avatar is based off of some fairytale/mythology that i don’t know anything about LMAO)

i don’t actually think option two is gonna happen, but it was fun to think about!!

also either option opens the opportunity to time not passing 1:1 in current vacuo & rwby’s island getaway which???????? AHHHHH

alright so now to the actual characters lmao. i mentioned wby earlier. i honestly have no clue what neo’s gonna be up to, she’s such a wild card and i LOVE IT.

ruby and jaune is gonna be...........PAIN. NO MATTER WHAT. i have no idea how ruby is gonna react--she might just be so overwhelmed by everything that she snaps/yells at jaune which. PAIN. but she also might not?? which. ALSO PAIN. i feel like no matter what ruby does, jaune’s gonna blame himself anyway. god. i love their friendship SO MUCH and this is gonna HURTTTT

and on that, he doesn’t have ren and nora this time to pull him back from the ledge. this dude’s guilt complex is gonna go crazy especially since he doesn’t have his team and double especially if ruby/rwby blames him for what happened. god it’s gonna HURT TO WATCH.

on a wildly different note, i hope we do get to see vacuo/qrow throughout volume 9. if i go a whole volume without ren and nora i WILL cry lmao.

also it’s gonna be super interesting to see how their group fares!!! vacuo’s fuckin nuts and i’d love to see winter just destroying the grimm there (3 headed giraffe my beloved) and see how the atlas/mantle refugees handle the climate--and how the vacuans react to all of them LMAO

ALSO!!!! THE SULFER FISH WERE THERE!!! very glad to see that they’re in vacuo too because from the concept art it seems like they have super unique abilities and i’m excited that we may get to properly see them, instead of just cameos!!!

team cfvy pspspspspspsps theodore and rumpole pspspspspsps team sssnn pspspspspsps

and, of course, i gotta mention that any possible jnr reunion WILL tear my heart out and i will probably cry for days. i gotta start emotionally preparing now LMAO

alright and that wraps it up!! if anyone makes it down to the bottom props to you!! i don’t expect anyone to actually read this mess lmao. tldr: INCREDIBLE volume and i’m so hype for v9 already!!!

#f: rwby #t.txt #this took me two whole days to type lmao

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